Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Four
Astoria and Draco
Harry and Daphne stopped at Andromeda Tonks' on the way home, to return Teddy. Andromeda demanded Daphne sit down as soon as she arrived, convinced she needed to get off her feet and take a little break. A pitcher of mineral water, and a pot of tea, along with glasses and teacups, appeared immediately, and a house elf brought a plate of butter cookies and passed it around.
Andromeda was well-acquainted with the Weasleys, who had always treated her well after she fell out with the Blacks and the other pureblood partisans over her romance with Ted Tonks. Harry and Daphne filled her in on the latest Weasley-and-associated-persons-and-families news. Andromeda blinked a few times when they told her about Ginny and Millicent's announcement, but didn't say anything, positive or negative.
"Good for her," Andromeda said of Ginny's retirement news. "She's a Harpy for the ages, no question, so she should get out while she's healthy and go on to the next thing. Maybe we should have a little tea for them, just witches, what do you think, Daphne?"
"Let's talk about it. Winky and Kreacher would pitch in," Daphne said. "They're both mad for her."
Eventually, the tea and talk started to run out and Harry and Daphne said good-bye to Andromeda and Teddy. They'd had the foresight to actually plan where they'd be going after Andromeda's and seconds later appeared on the top step at #12 Grimmauld Place, just as Kreacher opened the front door.
"Welcome back, Mistress Daphne and Master Harry, how was your Sunday?" Kreacher asked.
"Wonderful," Harry said. "Thank-you for asking."
Daphne decided a short nap was in order, and headed upstairs. Harry considered a trip to his dojo, but changed his mind when it occurred to him Daphne would be trying to sleep just one room over. Instead, he walked to the back of the townhouse and out to the garden.
"Kreacher," he said, "Can you bring me something to put trash in? I need to clean up the garden."
The townhouse garden at the rear of #12 Grimmauld Place must have once been a jewel, Harry thought, as he removed accumulated trash and dead plants from the raised brick beds. With a little imagination, one could see flowering plants, succulents, bonsai and others in the mind's eye. The garden was in shade much of the day, so he'd have to plant with that in mind. He didn't think plant choice would be a problem. After all, he had two of the best magical gardeners in Britain, Fabio Greengrass and Neville Longbottom, in his immediate circle. Those two could probably garden on the moon, if they put their minds to it.
Harry gave himself up to the uprooting of dead plants and picking up the pieces of wastepaper that had drifted in over the years. While he worked, Harry was careful to avoid disturbing the young plants that were coming up among the stalks. He had no idea what they were, but was resolved to get some help with identification. He was vaguely aware there were annuals and perennials and some came up every year and others kept growing from year to year. Harry suspected at least some of the beds had been used for plants with magical significance. Those could be useful in the Potters' magical household, just as they had for the Blacks.
Harry got the dead stalks and trash bagged up and stood looking around for more basic maintenance chores.
"Dazzling!" said Daphne's voice from over Harry's shoulder.
"Not just yet, but I can see possibilities," Harry answered. "Once I've consulted with some knowledgeable gardeners. Have a good nap?"
"Perfect," Daphne said. "One hour, and I'm totally refreshed. Want to sit out for a little while? Kreacher?"
Kreacher apparated to the garden, appearing with a 'pop.'
"Kreacher is here, Mistress, what can Kreacher do for Mistress, and Master Harry?"
"A pitcher of lemonade, and two glasses, if you would, Kreacher," said Daphne.
"Of course, Mistress," Kreacher said, disappearing with a 'pop.'
Daphne and Harry sat down on two of the chairs pulled up around the patio table. Kreacher was back almost immediately with a pitcher of fresh lemonade and two large tumblers.
"Thank-you, Kreacher, that will be all," Daphne said.
The elf bowed and disapparated.
"You are so good at this," Harry said. "I really don't know how I lived without you."
"Potter," Daphne said, a little exasperation coming through in her tone, "You were living just fine and would have continued, but you didn't have a close relationship with anyone, and now that you are in a reciprocal, loving, respectful relationship you associate the positive feelings from that with success in doing daily tasks. The two don't have to have anything to do with one another, but you're happier in your personal life, and that makes you think you couldn't have ordered a pitcher of lemonade before."
Harry pondered Daphne's short guided tour through some elementary psychological jargon.
"I should have died from exposure, or starvation. I'm giving you full credit for my continued existence," he concluded.
"Fine," Daphne said, giving up while they both still possessed some shred of dignity.
"There is something we need to discuss, though," Daphne said. "I should have brought it up before, but I didn't know how to raise the issue. Iolanthe has put an end to my wobbliness."
"Iolanthe Astoria is ringing some changes," Harry said.
"Iolanthe Astoria will continue to do that, and more," Daphne said. "Now, what I should have brought up before. Someone in my Davis ancestry was cursed, generations ago. You may have noticed Astoria getting tired before everyone else, or needing more rest. That's the curse. It's a blood curse, stays in the family line, pops up every three or four generations. The curse has shown up in Astoria. She's perfectly normal except she's easily tired. She has to pay attention to diet, fresh air, exercise, and rest.
"Astoria is the reason I'm a healer. I spent years in the magical literature, countless hours with Madam Pomfrey, then started in on muggle medicine, trying to find a way to break the curse, or at least help her get stronger. Until someone makes a breakthrough, though, it looks like Astoria will have to live with it. That's what I should have told you before we got to this point. Iolanthe or one of her descendants could be next.
"I'm so, so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to deceive you, but it feels like I have."
Daphne suddenly felt a need to turn her head away from Harry, who sat there, trying to digest what he'd just been told. It didn't feel to him like Daphne had deceived him. He had been face to face with problems much more challenging than a tendency to tire easily. Harry reached over and grasped Daphne's shoulder, trying to turn her back around, while she put some strength into keeping herself turned away.
"Daphne, stop this," Harry said. He gripped her shoulder a little harder.
"Daphne," he said, "Enough."
He tried to put some auror into his tone, hoping it would get Daphne's attention. Slowly, Daphne turned around, tears running from both eyes.
"Harry, you have every right…" she began.
"Please, listen to me," Harry said. He stood up and pulled his chair closer and sat back down, his knees touching Daphne's, and took both of her hands in his.
"You haven't deceived me. No one we know hasn't either been cursed, and survived, or had someone in their family tree cursed. Any witch or wizard who thinks otherwise is appallingly naïve. You know I've been cursed, and it doesn't bother you. Who knows what kind of residual effects are rattling around inside of me? What kind of man would I be if I let an old curse that has nothing to do with us push us apart? Do the best you can for Astoria. Don't worry about Iolanthe at this point. We'll face whatever comes, side by side. Hasn't that been working pretty well for us, up to now?" Harry finished.
"It has," Daphne said, "That's what I feared I'd ruined, by not telling you right from the start."
"Okay, now I know," Harry said, then, "And, according to the terms of the debate as stated by you, I am the authority on whether I've been deceived. Of all the things you have to think about at the moment, that is not one of them. Drink some lemonade. What should we plant back here? Do you know of any useful shade-loving herbs? She'll be toddling, one year from December. Toddler-safe, shade-loving herbs. I wonder if there is such a thing?"
Harry's speculations were cut off, along with his wind, by the arms Daphne threw around his neck. That was only temporary, though, and easily managed. She set him free just as another thought occurred to him.
"Has Astoria said anything about using The Mill? A couple of restful days after the wedding might be just what the healer ordered."
"Nothing definitive," Daphne said, drying the last of her tears. "It sounds like they'd both like to."
"I don't mean to meddle," Harry said. "We'll probably be too busy to use it anyway. With a wedding in the first week of July, and whatnot."
"Thanks for reminding me," said Daphne, the sarcasm mostly under control.
"Where are you so far?" Harry asked. "I know you've been doing some preliminary…"
"Oh, you do, do you?" Daphne asked, clearly amused by Harry's presumptuous claim to insider knowledge. "How?"
"Observation. The planners that seem to be in evidence whenever you and Mrs. Greengrass are in the same place. An increased incidence of Tracey sightings. That sort of thing. I'd go further, strictly on speculation, you understand, that you'd like to get married in Fabio's gardens, but since it is just a month after Astoria and Draco, you'd like to strategically limit the invitations so the same people don't feel obligated to attend two weddings in the same venue a month apart.
"Have you thought about who you want to perform the ceremony? I think I could get Kingsley, if we ask him soon. His calendar fills up quickly."
"That was the last item on the list. It's all done, otherwise. Merlin, Potter, that copper brain is capable of careful observation, collection of data, analysis, and drawing a conclusion. That's what we call science. And to think up until now I'd been considering you useful primarily for making my kittens and defending our den. If Kingsley is willing, that would be perfect," Daphne said.
"I'll ask him tomorrow. Seventh of July, ten a.m., Greengrass Manor?" Harry asked.
"Uncanny," Daphne answered.
Draco and Astoria were married at Greengrass Manor at ten a.m., on June tenth, and did, as it turned out, spend the next two days at The Mill. Harry arranged for Winky to come by for a few hours both days, from mid-morning until mid-afternoon, to tidy up and manage the cottage, which really didn't require a lot of managing. Mrs. Greengrass orchestrated their meals, sending Trix over three times a day with trays of established Astoria favorites.
Winky's assistance freed Draco and Astoria from any responsibilities more complicated than enjoying each other's company. The weather cooperated, but for one rainy interlude, providing long, pleasant summer days for lane-strolling countryside rambles. Draco found the way back to the site of the destroyed manor. Astoria knew a useful charm for temporary seating, and conjured two simple chaises, and they stretched out, looking over the valley of the Dart for an hour, saying very little, just enjoying sitting together. Aside from a few family and close friends, no one knew where they were, so the world didn't intrude on their solitude.
The sky began to show signs of rain, and they conferred on timing, the consensus being they had time to walk back. They did, just, and ran the last hundred meters to the door, racing the fat drops that had begun to fall. Within minutes after they had reached the great room, the rain was pounding out a long, sustained drum roll on the slate roof. Draco climbed the stairs and did a careful inspection of the upper story, but he saw no sign of leaks, from the roof or around the windows.
"Draco?"
Astoria's voice sounded faint, and Draco hurried down the stairs. He looked around, didn't see Astoria, and started toward The Baths.
"In here," he heard, and turned around.
When he got to the door of the bedroom he saw Astoria's head and shoulders, the rest of her concealed under the sheet and light blanket.
"We have to change out of our wet clothes anyway, so, why waste…?"
"Are you sure?" Draco asked.
"Get out of those wet clothes, Draco," Astoria said, with a bit of edge in her voice.
Draco didn't need to be told twice.
"Draco," Astoria began, when he'd joined her under the covers.
"Astoria," Draco acknowledged.
"I want to try to have a family, Draco, and I'm going to try to have one with you. Do you understand? I won't be talked out of trying. Maybe it will happen and maybe it won't, but I will give it my best. I get the best care available, anywhere. Nature made us so that I'm perfect, physically, right at my age. Talk to Daphne if you don't believe me. Okay, end of lecture," Astoria said, and gave her husband a huge smile.
Draco smiled back, pulled Astoria's hand out from under the bed covers and held it. He lay there, looking at the ceiling, enjoying the sound of the rain on the slates and the company of the love of his life.
"Something wrong, Draco?" Astoria asked, after several minutes had passed.
"I want to give you what you want. I don't want to endanger you. You see my dilemma, I know you do," Draco answered.
Astoria slid closer and lifted herself up on her forearm.
"Draco, the night Madame Rosmerta kicked us out of the Three Broomsticks, I went back home, sat on Daphne's bed, and told her I was going to marry Draco Malfoy, and magic help me, I was going to have his children. If you think, at this point, I have not been over and over this with the best healers in Britain, and my sister, and my mother the greatest rune-witch of the age, you haven't been paying attention. You have been paying attention, haven't you?" Astoria asked, while using her thumb to softly stroke Draco's cheek.
Draco made some vague reference to paying attention, but that was the last sound for some time, other than the rain on the slates.
The Baths, Fabio's contribution to civilized life at The Mill, really did hark back to Rome. Besides the usual bathroom fixtures and fittings, Fabio had designed in a small magical steam room for both baths. A little steel basin filled with smooth river rocks sat atop a tripod in each steam room. The purpose wasn't apparent unless one could conjure a certain kind of flame that burned for an hour or more, depending on the magical strength of the caster. A skilled witch or wizard could have steam coming off the rocks in about ten minutes.
Astoria had figured out the steam room on their wedding night, and they had both succumbed to the charms of steam and marble benches. Nothing stimulated conversation, nor made it more compelling, than a quiet room full of steam and two people wearing towels. Years later they would both say it was their consensus second favorite honeymoon activity.
"I hate to leave," Draco said. It was their second full day at The Mill. They'd planned to go to Durres, Albania the next day. A correspondent potioneer of Lucius Malfoy owned and ran a small tourist hotel in Durres with a view of the Adriatic. Catering to magical tourists on honeymoons and short getaways didn't make him a lot of money, but he liked having a place to put up witches and wizards who came to work with him for a few days.
"Me too, but it's important we go, Draco," Astoria said. "Mr. Malfoy was so thrilled when we accepted. You'd think he was the one going. Has he been there, or just seen the pictures?"
Draco, who was dipping more water for the basin, laughed out loud at Astoria's question.
"He hasn't been. I am at least half convinced he really wants us to go and write a review for him. He has a standing invitation, so he could go any time he wants. I've thought about it and I can't come up with any other reason he is so eager for us to go," Draco said. "No matter, it's too late to back out now. We'll go, have a good time, come home with stories, blah-blah. Potter will let us come back here again, won't he? If we ask nicely?"
Astoria paused to think before answering.
"Anyone can mis-read another person," she said, "But I believe Harry would be thrilled to have someone take an interest in this place. He works on it with Winky and Daphne, and it seems to have a big presence in his mind. He really likes taking people to see it. My guess is yes, whenever we want to, as long as we don't burn it down, he's happy people want to be here."
It wasn't long before Draco and Astoria decided they'd had enough steam, Astoria put out the flame, and they left for the traditional post-steambath shower. They returned to the great room and saw that Trix had delivered their supper of cold meats, cheese, pickles, potato salad and the Greengrass Manor version of Mad Monk bread.
"Winky," Astoria called. Winky apparated into the kitchen with a 'pop.'
"Winky is here, Miss Astoria," said Winky.
"Winky, Mr. Draco and I will be leaving in the morning, so I would like it if you could come and do one of your thorough cleaning jobs on The Mill, especially The Baths. We enjoyed the steambaths so much, but we want Mr. Harry and Miss Daphne to have nice, clean baths when they come. Can you take care of that for us?"
"Winky will take care of it," said the elf. "Can Winky do anything for Miss Astoria or Mr. Draco this evening?"
"No, Winky," said Astoria, "You've done a fine job, and we're very grateful, but that's all for today."
Astoria and Draco spent another night at The Mill and left for Durres the next morning. Lucius' correspondent, and their host in Durres, had arranged for a port key that took them both to the roof of the hotel. The gentleman was waiting at the door of a little penthouse on the roof when the honeymooners spiraled down to the bull's eye at the center of a painted target.
"Perfect!" said their host in greeting. "You are Draco, son of my esteemed colleague Lucius, and you are Astoria, our new Madame Malfoy. Welcome to Durres. My name is Kadare'. Whatever you want, please ask the desk. They've been informed to give your wishes the highest priority. Please come with me, your lunch is ready."
Astoria looked around. In one direction she could see the Adriatic, with a long corniche between the last street and the water. Here and there were café tables topped by colorful umbrellas. Looking the other way, she saw what could only be some classical ruins, which appeared to be the exterior of some monumental public building.
"Roman?" she asked Mr. Kadare'.
"Very good, yes, that is the Roman amphitheater. It was buried for centuries, so it is very well-preserved. We'll make sure you get a full tour. Just this way."
They followed Mr. Kadare' into what appeared to be a conventional elevator, although the trip from the penthouse to the lobby seemed exceedingly quick. Each had brought a minimal overnight bag, and Mr. Kadare' waved to a bellman who took the bags off to put in their room. The hotel dining room was just off the lobby. Mr. Kadare' led the way inside.
"I took the liberty," Mr. Kadare' said, waving his arm in the direction of a table that could have seated six, at least, laden with a cold tray of sliced meat, cheeses, raw vegetables, something that looked like little turnovers, two or three kinds of bread, and some condiments that resembled British cousins, but were clearly of another lineage. Draco saw several of the familiar tall, green bottles of Italian mineral water here and there in the dining room.
"Please, sit, eat. We didn't know your preferences, so the kitchen staff prepared a variety," said Mr. Kadare'. "This is a little wedding gift for you. While you eat, I'll tell you a bit about our city.
They wanted to give Mr. Kadare's introduction to the more interesting facts about Durres the attention it deserved, so they moved slowly as they selected a few vegetables, slices of bread, and cheese from the very well-provisioned tray.
"There are no particular hazards for witches or wizards in Durres. We observe the secrecy statute, much as I understand you do in Britain. You are free to walk about, like any other tourist. The hotel entrance has a little charm that makes it difficult for the non-magical person to pick out from the building fronts on both sides.
"Durres is a port, on the Adriatic, which connects it to the Mediterranean. There is little crime, certainly not in comparison to Marseilles, for example. I recommend you use an occlusionary charm, just as a precaution, if you want to stroll the corniche after dark.
"If you would like to see anything outside the city, let me arrange for someone from our local magical community to accompany you. Everyone on staff is a witch or wizard, and if none are available I know other, trustworthy people. Now, what would you like to do during your time in Durres?"
"Tour the amphitheater!" said Astoria.
"History. She likes ruins," Draco explained. "I want to walk the corniche, sit under an umbrella, and drink strong coffee with some of that mineral water."
"The cafes open around eight and close late. Mid-day can be very hot, depending on whether we have cloud cover. It's cooler along the water, as you'd expect. The sea is to our West, of course, so the sunset is spectacular," Mr. Kadare' advised. "If you want to see the sunset and return after dark, it shouldn't be a problem. The view is fine if you walk straight down the block toward the water. There is even a little coffee wagon with a few tables and chairs.
"Now, ruins—I'll get you some information on Butrint, and Madame can decide if she wants to tour it. It's in a national park south of here, but I can arrange for someone to take you by floo. There is a little magical hostel in the village near the park. They're connected to the network, so it's very convenient. I recommend an early start tomorrow morning, so you do your touring when it is a bit cooler. Butrint is somewhat remote, so crowds are almost never a problem."
Mr. Kadare' left with best wishes and a promise to send some literature on Butrint to their room. Draco and Astoria had managed to pick lightly and listen during Mr. Kadare's presentation. They got serious about lunch upon Mr. Kadare's departure.
Astoria's creation leaned towards green salad with some small sides of white beans in tomato sauce, grilled zucchini, yogurt, and cold boiled new potatoes. Draco built a sandwich of cold meat, sliced tomato, raw onion and mustard on some variety of very dark bread. A couple of days of rustic living and plenty of fresh air had done wonders for their appetites, it appeared.
"No need to gobble, Draco," Astoria quietly advised. "The strolling will take place as scheduled."
"I can't help it," Draco said, putting his sandwich down. "It's right outside! I can smell the sea. That corniche wants walkers, and I'll do my best to oblige. You'll come?" he finished, with only a slight plaintiveness coming through.
Astoria looked at him.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said, "Do you really need to ask if I'll use the precious minutes of our honeymoon to stroll the corniche in the company of my husband?"
"Mmmm…That was a silly question, wasn't it?" Draco said.