Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Forty-five
Ties That Bind
Pansy's evening had gone much better than her workday.
She had been home less than an hour when Morag knocked on her door. Their greeting formalities went well, considering the fact that Morag had to shed her cloak while she was in a clinch with Pansy, cheeks pressed together, with Pansy's right arm like a vise around Morag's waist.
"Sit down," Pansy ordered as she hung up the cloak.
Two fresh cups of coffee sat on the coffee table. Pansy sat, primly, with her hands in her lap, keeping a little distance between them.
"I have something to tell you," Pansy began. "First, I'm sorry if I was too pushy. I know you are still putting your life together and grieving for Livia. You don't need more piled on top of that."
"No, Pansy, no," said Morag. "You've put yourself out for me, from your first visit! I wouldn't have gotten through losing Mum without you, not to mention Daphne, Harry, Blaise and everyone else you brought in. I really needed someone and you came through."
"Still, you get to drive," said Pansy. "I took a long walk yesterday. To think. I got clear about a number of things. We can go on, as fast or as slowly as you like. I know what I want from a relationship, now. At least I think I do. You can decide if you want to try that with me. And, then…"
Pansy let out a long sigh. She looked away from Morag, took a deep breath and drew on her courage.
"I love you, Morag. Without a doubt, you have my heart. Everything about you…"
Morag moved first, opening her arms, her eyes inviting Pansy into her embrace. Pansy barely got her arms around Morag when she heard the first sniff.
Their conversation wasn't very profound after that, except for the two parties sitting on a couch, squeezing and rocking and affirming that they were mutually in love. Serious minutes passed before they finished. Pansy slid back to her end of the sofa, settled and looked at Morag.
"Do you need anything to eat, or drink?" Pansy asked.
"No," Morag said with a little laugh. "You?"
Pansy shook her head. They each stared into the other's eyes while they waited to feel it was time, then stood together, each one holding out her hand. Morag squeezed Panys's hand, hard, letting Pansy lead the way down the hallway of the flat. Morag stopped just inside the threshold of Pansy's bedroom, a little smile of surprise on her face. The linens sparkled, the pillows were fluffed and the bed covers were neatly turned down.
"Nice!" said Morag.
"I thought, just in case…" said Pansy.
"So sweet. I'm flattered," laughed Morag.
Neither of them had gone exploring with another witch at Hogwarts so they didn't know quite what to do, or what to expect the other to do. Holding, kissing and touching all felt good, though, so they enjoyed those while they exchanged expressions of love and affection. Pansy didn't know why, other than instinct, but when she felt the need to wiggle into a slight position adjustment she did it just right and Nature's perfect design clicked into place.
"Ohh," Morag groaned. "Ohhhh…PANSY!"
"Yes, Baby, yes, right there, just like that," Pansy whispered as she studied Morag's face, looking for the sign that she had found her lover's rhythm.
It was still early, a few minutes past eight, when they agreed they could eat something. They decided on the Dragon, for sentimental reasons, Pansy having the foresight to negotiate in advance something beyond spring rolls.
Pansy normally went directly to the tea room at the beginning of her work day, leaving the opening of business at Potter and Associates to Harry. When he arrived the next day, Harry took a small piece of parchment, wrote a note saying, 'Back Soon,' which he hung on the door with a little sticking charm and left, walking over to the Leaky Cauldron to see if he could entice Neville Longbottom into a conversation.
The breakfast rush over, Hannah actually used 'shoo' to send Neville forth for some socializing.
"Coffee?" Harry asked as they stepped out into Diagon Alley.
"Always ready for coffee," answered Neville. "You do know we have it back there?"
"True, but then I'd have to offer to pay and you'd be in a spot," Harry said. "Besides, Kreacher needs the exercise."
They walked on toward Potter and Associates, enjoying the sunshine and the kaleidoscope of magical folks' comings and goings on their magical high street.
"Anything in particular?" Neville asked as they leaned back in their chairs and sipped away.
"Yep," said Harry. "Do the Longbottoms have a marshal?"
Neville nearly choked.
"What…what brought this on? We do, as a matter of fact, but that is quite the piece of magical trivia, Harry."
"Oh, well, that's great," Harry said. "Who is your marshal these days?"
Neville held his mug in both hands, looking at his friend, wondering where Harry was going.
"Harry, if there is something wrong between our families, just tell me now, and I promise we will work it out to your satisfaction," said Neville.
"What? Neville, who said anything about something wrong? We're allied, last time I looked," Harry replied. "What gave you the idea there was something wrong?"
"Harry, I'm the Marshal of the Longbottoms, and when a marshal is invited over for a little hospitality and gets queries along the lines you're pursuing, out of the blue, one starts wondering if the other party is delivering bad news. See?" asked Neville.
"NO, not at all," Harry exclaimed. "I can see I haven't handled this well, not by a longshot. How'd you get to be the Marshal of the Longbottoms, anyway? If that is something I'm allowed to ask."
"So we're good? No beefs?" asked Neville.
"Of course," said Harry.
"Sure, okay," Neville said. "I'm the marshal because there wasn't anyone else. I have been since I was fifteen. Gran had to hold everything together after the parents were hospitalized, so we had a few years there when we were really exposed. When I turned fifteen I was eligible and Gran did the investiture ritual before we went back to Hogwarts. She didn't want to spread the word too widely because it was obvious by then that we were in the runup to another war and the old Death Eaters were starting to act out again."
"I never knew," Harry said, shaking his head.
"We know your magical education has some holes, Harry. We're all happy to help."
"Thank-you, Neville," Harry said. "I'm very appreciative, as always. By way of explanation, I was reading some Black family history and came across a reference to someone being a marshal. That sounded interesting so I kept reading and discovered they were the Marshal of the Blacks. It appears that was typical for families back then. The chief would appoint a marshal who would do some ceremonial stuff and generally assist in the family administration. They got more of a workout if things came to real violence."
"Well said, you've done your homework," said Neville. "You have all of the basics right there. There were sound reasons for Gran appointing me. Dad, Frank, was incapacitated and confined to the ward at St. Mungo's. Gran was effectively the head of the family, with no allies near at hand. Once I was appointed marshal I was treated as an adult, legally, if called upon to defend family and property. Of course, it goes without saying I was fair game if the other side targeted the Longbottoms."
"Luckily for our side…" Harry began.
"Damn right!" said Neville. "Why do you think I stuck so close to you all of fifth year? We didn't take the time to think it through and discuss it thoroughly but I was probably better off staring down Bellatrix, standing next to you, than I would have been back at Hogwarts."
"Nagini," Harry observed.
Neville nodded.
"That one was unfortunate," he said. "She was beautiful, as a woman. I've seen the old post cards, from the circus. Then when she couldn't transform back, the only one who treated her with anything close to kindness was Riddle."
"I know. Wish we could make amends to her. Even if she did try to kill us all. Thanks again, for handling that," Harry said.
"What are you thinking about, in regard to the marshal?" asked Neville. "You have two positions, it would seem. Are you sure you don't have at least one incumbent?"
"I have a candidate in mind, for the Blacks," Harry said. "We don't have one and it's within my purview to appoint another when required. Narcissa Malfoy was Narcissa Black. She and Daphne get along. Narcissa isn't afraid to speak her mind and she knows all the old-time Black lore. When we aren't fighting, she could be really helpful when we have to throw a dinner or similar. Daphne works a lot. She knows entertaining and protocol, too, but I thought she might appreciate a little help."
Neville paused to observe Harry, once more.
"And?" Neville said.
"And, what?" answered Harry. "You don't think that is a good idea?"
"As far as it goes," said Neville. "Or possibly, as far as you've gone."
Harry took a moment, along with another pull on his coffee mug.
"And?" Neville asked, again.
"Lucius," sighed Harry. "For a convicted war criminal, he is showing signs of continued interest in public life. He's into some do-gooder stuff, widows and orphans, donations to student literary journals, that sort of thing. We're semi-related now, with Draco, and me, married to the Greengrass sisters. I can't go do my own oversight. That would get really complicated. It would probably blow up in my face, if not Daphne's as well. On the other hand, Daphne and Narcissa have some kind of chemistry. They speak one another's language. Sorry, that is vague, I know, but I can't think of another way to describe it. If I appoint Narcissa Marshal of the Blacks, in recognition of services rendered to Lady Black, then she will hold an office outside of the Malfoys. That might be just the thing. It could keep Lucius focused on the sunny uplands and the delights thereof. Just a little reminder wrapped in some family warmth for Narcissa. I'd hate for him to revert."
Neville started laughing before Harry finished talking.
"I knew there had to be more. That is brilliant, Harry!" Neville said. "You give her a little ceremonial position…"
"Keeping her grounded in the bosom of her birth family," said Harry.
"Which is now headed by you…"
"Got the house, got the title…" Harry ticked off his talking points. "Got the right to make appointments to vacant positions."
"Then Daphne goes to Malfoy Manor once or twice a month," Neville went on. "Chats up Astoria, Narcissa puts out the teapot and scones, the three of them sit down in the parlor and talk witch-talk, maybe touch on a Black family issue or two…And no sign of Harry Potter!"
"Well, yeah, right along those lines," said Harry. "I'm not even there. What do you think? Got an opinion?"
"Yeah, do it!" exclaimed Neville. "You're an old-time clan chief, Harry. One of the smart ones. Gran loves to tell me stories about the old days, when she was a girl and on into her twenties, and there are always people like you in them. Wizards who didn't stop with wingardium leviosa. They kept working on their magic but they knew how to raise their whole family up and keep it there. That takes more than belligerence, not that I'd call you belligerent, just because you've got plenty of fighting spirit. That takes a certain kind of intelligence. Guile, maybe, would be the word. I'm all for it."
"Good," Harry said. "I have to talk it over with Daphne, though. Wouldn't do to spring this on her. Can I count on your discretion? Just until I talk to Daphne."
"Certainly," said Neville. He put his coffee mug on Harry's desk and stood, extending his hand.
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said. "I appreciate your counsel, and candor."
"I owe you," said Neville. "That's the least I can do."
Harry and Neville were standing outside the front door when a delivery person arrived with a big bouquet of cut flowers. Harry accepted the flowers, found he didn't have any coins handy and was pleased when Neville lent him five sickels for a tip.
"Pansy" said the little envelope. Harry looked on the back and found the flap bore the stamp of the St. Mungo's gift shop.
"Ah-ha!" he said, smiling. "Pansy has acquired an admirer."
"Good for her," said Neville. "She's good people."
"Kreacher now has an errand," said Harry. "See you later."
"Anytime. Just let me know," said Neville.
Once back inside, Harry summoned Kreacher and asked him to get a vase and fill it with water. He put the combination in the precise middle of Pansy's desk and went back to his reading.
Pansy arrived just after one. She called out a greeting from the foyer and went straight to her office. Harry interrupted his reading, not seeing any point in improvising a pantomime. Moments later Pansy stood on the threshold of his office, hands on hips.
"Who brought those?" she demanded.
"Delivery," said Harry. "Never saw them before."
"What did you see? Did you read the card?"
"Of course not," Harry said. "It was in an envelope."
Pansy looked less skeptical for the explanation.
"I did see the stamp, from the gift shop, on the envelope," said Harry. "I drew no conclusions."
"Boss, you are a good citizen," Pansy declared.
"Don't worry, Pansy, for Pete's sake," said Harry. "You're entitled to a personal life, same as anyone. Want to leave it there?"
"Oh," said Pansy as she turned and left. She had prepared herself for some prying, preparation that was now useless.
In less than a minute she was back, a big grin on her face.
"I'M SEEING SOMEONE!" she shouted from the doorway before turning around and leaving again.
Harry's main goal for the day had been to speak to Neville, which he had accomplished before noon. With Pansy occupying the office there wasn't anything keeping Harry in London so he cleaned off his desk and told her he was going.
"We'll be in the country," he said. "Give us a floo call if anything comes up. I'll set the wards."
The weather was pleasant when Daphne joined Harry at Potter Manor, later that afternoon. Harry suggested a stroll around the gardens.
"I'm going to propose something," Harry said. "I'd like to get your perspective. Okay?"
"Go," said Daphne.
"I can make appointments," Harry began, "To jobs. Family jobs. Like Cyrus can, if he wanted to."
"Uh-huh," Daphne agreed, her curiosity aroused.
"Noble houses can have a marshal," said Harry.
"I've heard of that," said Daphne. "You want one?"
"I want to appoint Narcissa," Harry said. "I want to offer her the position of Marshal of the Blacks."
Daphne walked along, silent, turning over Harry's comments.
"Why?" she asked.
"The piece you read at breakfast, about Lucius," said Harry. "We need to reward Narcissa for her loyalty, especially since Our Place. You made me think about Lucius. It wouldn't hurt for him to have a little encouragement to stay on the right path. He has been in and out of Dark circles since he was a schoolboy. We clashed once or twice, you'll recall."
"To his chagrin," Daphne said.
"Every time," Harry agreed. "It's not that I want direct oversight, although I would not be surprised to find he was involved in yet another underground conspiracy of some kind. It might be enough, were there a permanent reminder that Lucius should consider the consequences before going off on unproductive paths."
"And Narcissa?" asked a puzzled Daphne.
"As Marshal of the Blacks, she does a little ceremonial task once or twice a year," Harry explained. "She isn't working for Harry Potter, she's a Black, doing something for her birth family. I could send them a Potter and Associates wall calendar at the holidays, I suppose. I just think this is more subtle. Something for him to consider while he's waiting to go to sleep at night."
Daphne walked along, quietly, for a little while, then the snickers began.
"You like it?" Harry asked.
Daphne left snickers behind and laughed, a genuine heart-felt laugh.
"Do you think it is diabolical enough?" Harry pressed on. "Sufficient misdirection built in to obscure the real purpose?"
"Oh, Harry, yes, it's diabolical enough," said Daphne. "Even if he deciphers your intent, Lucius will have to go along to keep Narcissa happy."
"You'll still be a presence, of course," said Harry. "The primary one, certainly. Astoria's sister, lots of contact with Draco. It's all mutually-reinforcing."
"Oh, ye-ahh, and Harry Potter nowhere to be seen!" Daphne said, getting with the spirit of the occasion.
"So do you think you can do some tentative contact? It would be better. If we invited everyone to dinner and I just announced the appointment she might decline," said Harry. "That would spoil the ceremony, wouldn't it?"
"Wouldn't want that, no sir," said Daphne. "What ceremony?"
"Well, Narcissa would be accepting a position of authority and responsibility," said Harry. "A proper investiture seems indicated. There is even a badge of office."
"Where did you get all of this?" asked Daphne.
"I'll show you," said Harry. "In here."
They had arrived at the front door so Harry led the way to the salon with all the ancestral portraits. The book of Black history sat on a table at one end of a leather-covered sofa.
"Here," Harry said when he'd found the page he wanted.
"Oh," said Daphne as she scanned the first page. "Marshal of the Blacks…onyx…rank…"
She read, thoroughly, then looked up and stared at her husband. He really was going to do it. He was going to appoint his distant cousin the Marshal of the Blacks. It was a pre-emptive move that would fence in an old enemy who would find himself within a triangular paddock, one side comprising his son and Harry's sister-in-law, one side his wife's ally, Daphne Greengrass Potter, and the third side his wife, born a Black and wearing the onyx and silk rosette declaring her Marshal of the Blacks. Harry Potter, the accidental Lord Black, would honor his cousin with a chivalric relic, a bit of silk and a black stone, and plant an ally in Lucius' bedroom. Of course there would be no move, overt or otherwise, on Lucius or any of his prerogatives. Lucius and Narcissa would even be elevated a few notches on the graph of social standing among the magical society of Britain.
"It really is true, we do catch more flies with honey than we do with vinegar," Harry said. "Think about how you're going to present your case to Narcissa. Dinner?"
Harry stood up and offered Daphne his hand.