The last few days of the term passed quickly, and the friends were soon on board the Hogwarts Express once more. They spent the first part of the journey discussing logistics for Draco's visit to Tracey's house - Tracey would have to talk to her father, but she would try to get Draco a Portkey as soon as possible so that they had time to get everything done. They couldn't guarantee that they'd find what they needed in one afternoon, and if they had to make any side trips - to the Ministry, for instance - they needed time to take care of everything before they had to return to school.
Hermione was unusually quiet during the whole discussion, opting to sit in the corner and listen instead of actively contributing. Draco could tell something was bothering her and had a feeling he knew what it was. He shot her a concerned look, but she gave her head a quick jerk to the side.
"Not here," her eyes said. "Not now."
As soon as he could, Draco excused himself and Hermione and pulled her from their compartment into the empty one next to it.
"You know I don't want this," he said quietly. Hermione sighed and sank onto the closest seat.
"Of course I do," she said. "I've never doubted that. You've been working just as hard as any of us to find a way around this. But it's like Blaise said – magical contracts aren't meant to be broken. They're written so carefully so as to close all possible loopholes. We can cross our fingers all we want that we'll find a way out, but what if this contract really is unbreakable?" She took advantage of their still linked hands to pull him down next to her. "We've thrown ourselves wholeheartedly into the research side of it, but you and I haven't really talked about the fact that we're facing a betrothal here."
"You have no idea how much I hate that my father took that choice away from me," Draco replied. "He signed away my life when I could barely talk, and I hate the strain it's causing us because we haven't found a way around it." He sighed and squeezed her fingers. "Tracey is a good friend, she really is, but I could never marry her. Even if I wasn't already with you, I couldn't do that to her. Wizarding marriages are for life, and while we might've grown to care for one another, there would always be that 'what if' hanging over our heads. No, I couldn't do that to her – I can't, nor can I do that to Blaise, or to you." He moved one of this hands to her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone.
"I've loved you since we were seven years old, Lotte, even if I didn't realize it or have the guts to tell you until we were fourteen," he said softly. "Magically binding contract or not, I can't be with anyone else - I just can't. And I promise you, I will find a way to break the agreement – you know I will. I'll force it if we can't find another way, I'll offer Tracey's father my entire Gringotts vault if that's what it takes."
"A very Gryffindor approach, going in with wands blazing," Hermione said, smiling slightly in spite of herself.
"I prefer to look at it as the very Slytherin solution of doing whatever it takes to reach your goals," Draco replied. "And my goal is to be with you. I hate that I have to make it a goal at all, but it is what it is."
"I just feel so helpless," Hermione whispered, a lone tear slipping from her eye and down her face, where it caught on Draco's thumb. "You know how much I hate not being able to find the answers, and this is so much more important than an Arithmancy solution or a counter-charm - four people's lives will change against their will if we fail."
"Where's that Gryffindor bravery, Hermione?" Draco admonished her gently. "No more thinking like that - we've gotten through seemingly impossible obstacles before, and we can do it again."
"I'm trying to stay positive, I really am," Hermione promised. "It's just hard. I'll feel better when we find something concrete."
"That's my girl," Draco said fondly. Hermione looked confused.
"What did I say?" she asked.
"You said when we find something concrete, not if," he replied. "Your subconscious is already thinking positive." He sat back against the bench and pulled her close, bringing her head down to rest on his shoulder.
"Always forgiven," Hermione whispered. Draco smiled softly.
"Always forgiven."
They stayed in the compartment for another fifteen minutes, neither talking nor moving but merely enjoying the comfort of each others' presence. Just before returning to their friends, they used their last moments alone to exchange a soft kiss, a kiss full of promise and resolve with their eyes saying what words never really could, and neither spoke on the way back to their compartment.
"You two alright?" Harry asked as Draco slid open the door and stepped inside, Hermione close behind. The couple exchanged soft smiles, which were small but genuine. Draco's answer was a truthful one.
"Yes," he replied. "Yes, we are."
Tracey's father was apparently delighted at the thought of his daughter's betrothed paying them a visit over the holidays, and as such, Tracey was able to send Draco a Portkey the very next morning. The Portkey was set for the second day of their holidays, and Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny, all of whom were staying at Grimmauld Place, took advantage of the day in between to go over the plan once more. They also spent a little bit of time talking about the Horcruxes, but as they didn't have too much to go on besides what Dumbledore had told them and had to be careful lest anyone else overhear, that conversation didn't last long. After dinner, they spent several hours playing Exploding Snap and chatting with Tonks, who'd dropped by to speak to Mr. Weasley about an Order mission and was thrilled at the chance to catch up with her cousin and his friends. Tonks promised to stop by again before their holidays ended, and the friends went to bed in high spirits despite their nervous anticipation of the following day's events.
At precisely ten o'clock the next morning, Draco's Portkey took him to Tracey's home. The building itself was far smaller than Malfoy Manor - it was a large house, but not what one could call an estate - but it was tastefully designed and sat on several acres of immaculately kept lawns, with beds of colorful flowers adding a welcoming air to the front of the house. A house-elf answered the door when Draco rang the bell and showed him into the sitting room, where a tea service sat waiting.
"Master and Miss is being here shortly," the elf said in a squeaky voice, and it bowed low before scampering from the room, leaving Draco alone. He didn't have long to wait, however, before the door opened again, admitting Tracey and a man Draco guessed must be her father.
"Draco Malfoy, I presume?" the man said. "Yes, you look just like your father. Beauregard Davis III." He held out his hand, which Draco shook.
"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Draco replied, remembering his manners even though he was inwardly reeling at the other man's pomposity. "Although it's Draco Black, if you don't mind - I adopted my mother's maiden name as a child and have used it ever since."
"Hmm," said Mr. Davis, frowning slightly. "You'll be retaking your birth name when you come of age, yes?"
"I don't think so, no," Draco answered smoothly. When they'd talked yesterday, Tracey had said it was best to be as honest as possible - maybe they'd get lucky and Mr. Davis would be displeased enough by Draco's answers to break the engagement that way. "The Malfoy name doesn't exactly project the image I'd like to show the Wizarding world, if you get what I mean." Draco then turned to Tracey.
"Tracey, it's lovely to see you again," he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles as was proper. They both thought the gesture was ridiculous - Draco had only ever kissed Ginny's hand before, and that was more to make her laugh than anything else - but they figured Mr. Davis would frown upon a hug or other openly friendly greeting, no matter how much more comfortable it would've made them. Being honest with their words was one thing, but blatantly disregarding the expected motions was another. No, they were going to behave like proper pureblooded children and stick to tradition while they had to, then drop all pretenses as soon as they were alone.
"Tea, Mr. Black?" Tracey's father asked.
"No, thank you, sir," Draco replied. "I'm still rather full from breakfast, I'm afraid." Tea would prolong the time he and Tracey were forced to spend in her father's presence, and Tracey had also warned him that her father was not above slipping truth serums or other such things into his guests' drinks. Better not to risk it.
"Perhaps I might show Draco around the house, Father?" Tracey interjected smoothly. "After all, if we're to be married, wouldn't it be best if we got to know one another a little better? Sharing classes doesn't leave much time for socializing." Draco had to hand it to Tracey - as much as she hated the idea of sucking up to her father, she was playing her part beautifully.
"Yes, yes, very well," Mr. Davis said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "I must insist that you join us for lunch, then, promptly at noon."
"Yes, sir," Tracey replied. Draco offered her his arm, knowing the gesture would look good, and the two teenagers left the room as quickly as they could without rousing suspicion.
"Nice thinking in there, Trace," Draco said under his breath as Tracey led him to the main staircase. "Your dad's a tough one – 'Beauregard Davis III', seriously?"
"I wasn't exactly exaggerating," Tracey muttered back. "And believe it or not, it's actually Maximilian Beauregard Davis III – the air of self-importance was definitely hereditary in his case." They snickered and climbed the stairs, at the top of which hung a large painting of four people.
"Family portrait?" Draco asked as he studied it. The portrait was of Tracey, her father, and a dark-haired woman and boy, whom Draco assumed to be Tracey's mother and brother. The boy looked to be approximately ten years old.
"Taken in fourth year, yes," Tracey replied. "Me, my father, Carina, and Benjamin. He's a second-year now."
"Carina?" Draco questioned. Tracey shrugged.
"She doesn't like being called Mother, or anything like that," she said. "Benjamin used to be able to get away with it sometimes when he was younger, but he doesn't really do it much anymore, and she's always corrected me - not that I ever did it much in the first place. Easier to just comply, she's rather strict."
"Tracey, you didn't tell me we had guests," a cool voice said. The teenagers turned to see the living counterpart of the dark-haired woman in the portrait, who was wearing flowing green robes and a disdainful expression.
"Carina," Tracey replied, nodding her head ever so slightly. "This is my intended, Draco Black."
"A pleasure," Carina said, though the sentiment didn't reach her eyes, which were as dark as her hair and very cold. "See that you're on time for lunch, Tracey, and don't go causing any trouble."
"Yes, Carina," Tracey promised. Draco swore he actually heard the woman sniff as she marched stiffly down the corridor and out of sight.
"Trace?" he asked. "Is there somewhere we could talk privately? I wanted to ask you something."
"Outside," Tracey said at once. "It's the only place we can guarantee we won't be overheard." Curious as to what Draco had to say, she wasted no time hurrying back downstairs and out the front door, and the two friends commenced a walk around the grounds.
"What did you want to ask me, Draco?" Tracey asked when they'd been walking for a few minutes.
"That portrait left me a little confused," Draco said. "Have you never noticed that you look absolutely nothing like your mother?"
"I know I don't," Tracey replied. "And I don't think she's actually my mother, either." Draco stopped walking and looked at her.
"What?" he asked, looking shocked. Tracey rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Drake," she said. "I'm not stupid. Of course I've noticed that I look nothing like Carina, and while I share some features with my father, there are too many left unexplained - my eyes, for instance, or my hair. They're both rather unusual, and while I don't really know much about genetics, I know enough to know that distinctive characteristics like that don't just come out of nowhere." Draco had to agree – Tracey's hair was a unique shade of caramel, and he'd never met anyone else with her eyes, which were a very light, almost yellow-green color.
"Well no, of course not," he said quickly. "When I was at Malfoy Manor last summer, I could definitely tell from their portraits which features I'd inherited from my mother versus my father. But what do you mean you don't 'think' Carina's actually your mother?"
"I meant exactly what I said - I don't think she is," Tracey said. "I've never actually heard it straight from my father's mouth, but he and Carina didn't marry until 1982, and you heard what Blaise said about purebloods keeping mistresses - bastard children complicate things immensely because they can't inherit, so purebloods are always careful to make sure they only have children by their spouse. But I was born in 1979, so how do I fit in?"
"Were you born out of wedlock, then?" Draco wondered. Tracey shrugged.
"I have no idea – honestly, I don't think I'd really care, if it meant I knew who my mother was. Your father accepted my father's proposal of a marriage contract, though, and I highly doubt someone so obsessed with bloodlines as Lucius Malfoy would have okayed a union between his heir and an illegitimate child."
"Very true," Draco said. "The Malfoys definitely prided themselves on their blood status - only a proper pureblood girl would have been acceptable. But I think we need to look into finding out who your real mother was - if nothing else, you deserve to know the truth."
"It would be nice to know," Tracey agreed. "My father forbade me from asking questions about my looks a long time ago - and honestly, you've met my father; in cases like that, it's so much easier to just go along with what he wants - and there are no photos of anyone other than the four of us in the house. I don't remember another woman in my life - I was barely two years old when Father and Carina married - but I know that Carina has never treated me like a daughter. We're civil to each other, but that's about it - and she absolutely fawns over Benjamin when she thinks no one's looking, so she definitely has the capacity to be warmer than she usually acts."
"So let's do something about it," Draco urged. "Your father didn't object to leaving us alone, so I don't think he'll object if I ask to take you out for the day - we'll call it a formal outing if we have to."
"When, today?" Tracey asked. "Both my father and Carina have already insisted on us joining them for lunch - I don't know if we could turn them down again without one of them getting angry. And where exactly are we going?"
"We'll go tomorrow - I'll ask for their permission at lunch today, and I can't imagine they'd say no. I'll just say I'm taking you out in London - that's a good place to take your fiancé, right? I'm thinking we need to start wherever they house birth records, which is probably either St. Mungo's or the Ministry. I'll ask Padfoot tonight."
"I can't believe we're actually doing this!" Tracey said, and though she sounded a little apprehensive, she also sounded excited. "It's like we're solving a crime or something."
"Not quite a crime, but we're solving a case nonetheless – the case of Tracey Davis' identity," Draco replied with a grin. "Now, let's go back inside and act like proper purebloods so we can get what we want."
The rest of Draco's visit passed almost painfully slowly, but the teenagers obtained permission for Draco to take Tracey out the following day – neither mentioned exactly where in London they intended to go, or that they most likely wouldn't be going alone, but Tracey's father didn't need to know that, of course. Draco promised to send Tracey a Portkey that evening, and he returned to London in high spirits. Sirius created the Portkey as soon as Draco had told everyone what had happened, and they sent it off without a second thought. The teenagers went to bed late that night, all of them preoccupied by Draco's tale and what it possibly meant for Tracey.
Tracey arrived mid-morning the next day, and Draco went outside to meet her and let her in on the secret of Grimmauld Place. As Draco's guardian, Sirius was going with them, along with Mr. Weasley in case they required Ministry access or aid – although the others desperately wanted to come along too, the fact that none of them could Apparate yet made things too complicated, and so they resigned themselves to meeting up for a late lunch in Diagon Alley. Tracey asked that they pass along the invitation to Blaise, and the quartet left the safety of the house and Disapparated.
Their first stop was St. Mungo's, which was responsible for keeping records of all of Wizarding Britain's citizens, including birth certificates for those who'd been born in that hospital. Tracey wasn't sure if she'd been born there or not, but if she had, her birth certificate would give them her mother's name, and that would be a huge help.
"Excuse me," said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to the person on duty at the welcome desk. "We'd like to speak to someone in records, please."
"Your business there?" The staff member was a young girl, in her early twenties by the looks of her, and she both looked and sounded extremely bored.
"This young lady would like a copy of her birth certificate," Mr. Weasley replied, unfazed by the girl's borderline rude response. "She recently turned seventeen and has decided she would like to have such things for her records." It was a bit of a fib, but it was definitely a believable excuse, and the girl asked Mr. Weasley to wait while she sent a message down to records asking if they had a moment to see them. The affirmative memo returned shortly thereafter, and the girl pointed towards the lifts and gave them directions.
St. Mungo's housed their records in the basement beneath the hospital, though the storage space was as bright and clean as the medical floors above. A second witch met them in the records room – she had curly, dark red hair tied back in a long ponytail, and she held out her hand for a firm handshake.
"Alexandra Wright," she said. "I'm in charge of this place. I understand one of you is looking for a birth certificate?"
"That's me," Tracey replied a little nervously. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure if I was born here or not, however."
"Not a problem," Alexandra said. "We can find that out easily enough. Name and date of birth, please?"
"Tracey Renee Davis, born the first of December, 1979," Tracey said promptly. Alexandra was already halfway to a section of files they guessed contained the birth records. They were neatly labeled in chronological order, and Alexandra unlocked the files for the specified year, waved her wand, and muttered an incantation they couldn't hear. One of the files lit up with a bright pink glow, and Alexandra nodded.
"You were indeed born here at St. Mungo's, Miss Davis," she said as she extracted the file. "Right on time, and healthy as can be." Another wave of her wand, and she held a copy of the birth certificate, which she handed to Tracey, who tried not to look overly eager as she accepted it.
"Thank you," Tracey said. "Thank you very much."
"Anything else I can help you with today?" Alexandra asked. Tracey looked up from the certificate, which she was studying intently.
"Yes, actually," she replied. "My mother – could you tell me if she was born here?"
"Do you know her birth date?" Alexandra asked. Tracey shook her head.
"No, I don't – I've only just found out her name, actually," she admitted.
"Not the first time I've come across such a thing," Alexandra said. "The spell for records without a birth date is a bit more complicated, but it's still doable – what's your mother's name?"
"Marianne Christina Gardner, before she married," Tracey replied, reading from the certificate. Alexandra performed a series of spells, but no glow came from anywhere in the birth records, and she got the same results from several other attempts.
"I'm sorry," she finally concluded. "I think you can guess from the lack of response that your mother wasn't born here."
"No matter," Tracey said. "Just giving us the name has been a big help, thank you." Alexandra smiled.
"Of course. If you find you need anything else besides the birth certificate, just come back."
After St. Mungo's, the group stopped at the Ministry of Magic's records department. What they learned there was arguably even more interesting than Tracey's mother's name – as the information they sought was public record, it was very easy to obtain copies of Tracey's parents' marriage certificate, which gave them the names of Tracey's maternal grandparents. Just to be sure that Tracey had her facts straight, they also requested a copy of the marriage certificate between Tracey's father and Carina.
"I'm really curious as to what happened here," Draco muttered as he studied the two certificates. "Your father's first marriage was dissolved in late 1981" – he pointed to the first certificate, which did indeed have an additional sheet of parchment attached detailing the termination of the marriage – "and he was remarried less than six months later. I think we're missing something important."
"Yes – we don't know why the first marriage was ended," Tracey said. "It must have been something big, for my father to never even mention my real mother to me, but what was it?"
"Might I make a suggestion, Miss Davis?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Of course – and please, call me Tracey," Tracey replied with a small smile.
"Tracey, then. Now that you have their names, you might want to consider contacting your mother's parents – they might be able to tell you what happened, and from what you've told us about your father, it sounds like a far safer option at the present time. Best not say anything about this to your father until you've got all your facts straight."
"I think I will – write to my grandparents, that is," Tracey agreed. "If nothing else, it might be nice to get to know the rest of my family."
As promised, they met up with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise for lunch, Sirius having returned to Grimmauld Place to Side-Along Apparate the teenagers, and Draco and Tracey wasted no time in telling their friends what they'd learned. The others agreed with Tracey's decision to contact her grandparents, and they helped her compose the letter over an enjoyable lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. They posted the owl immediately after the meal, not wanting to waste any time, and Tracey promised she'd tell them as soon as she received a reply.
They passed the remainder of the Easter holidays in nervous anticipation, trying their hardest to focus on their heavy loads of homework, but the day came when they had to return to Hogwarts, and Tracey still hadn't contacted them. In fact, it was almost a week into the summer term when a nondescript brown owl finally flew Tracey's way during breakfast, and Tracey had to hide her shaking hands from her housemates, who had no doubt noticed by now that she hardly ever got any post.
"Do you want us to be with you when you open it?" Draco asked, taking care to keep his voice low. Tracey thought on it for a long moment.
"Yes," she said finally. "This letter could contain something very personal, but you all have helped me so much that you deserve to be there."
"Right after breakfast, then," Blaise said. "I know the three of us have free periods first thing today, and if the others don't, we can fill them in later. You can't wait to read that, not now that you have it." Tracey agreed, and Draco dashed off a charmed parchment message to Harry explaining the plan. Ginny was unable to join them – not only did she have class, but her O.W.L.s were also alarmingly close – but Harry and Hermione had frees, and the five friends hurried to the Room of Requirement as soon as they'd finished eating. When they tried to get in, however, they found the room blocked.
"What the hell?" Harry muttered. "Why isn't it letting us in?"
"Is somebody else using the room?" Hermione wondered. "We've never run into that problem before, have we?"
"Maybe somebody else from the D.A. is practicing?" Blaise suggested. "But never mind that, we need somewhere else to go – first class is only so long, and Tracey needs to read this letter before she explodes."
"There are a bunch of empty classrooms not too far from here," Hermione said. "Follow me." They all but ran down the corridor and were immensely relieved when the first door they tried opened easily.
"Ok," Tracey said as they took a seat on some cushions Hermione conjured. "Ok." She took a deep breath, slit open the envelope, and removed the letter inside. For a long moment, all was quiet as she read. Then:
"Oh my…holy Merlin…"
"What is it, Trace?" Blaise asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I…I don't know," Tracey admitted. "Here – it's probably easier if I just read it." She cleared her throat and began to read aloud:
"'Dear Tracey,
It was both a surprise and a delight to receive your letter – we'd honestly expected never to hear from you after what happened between your parents. While the thought of our daughter saddens us greatly, we will do our best to answer all your questions honestly and completely.'"
"Why does the thought of their daughter make them sad?" Draco asked. "What happened?"
"Hush, Dragon," Hermione scolded. "Let Tracey read."
"'When we first married, we tried for years to conceive a child, but had no luck. After countless episodes of frustration and tears, we turned to adoption and brought your mother into our lives. Many people looked down on us for adopting, but we didn't care – Marianne was the brightness we needed after so long of feeling hopeless, and she was our pride and joy. As is the case with most parents, we'll never forget her first display of accidental magic, and we were so proud to receive a letter from her after her first night at Hogwarts, where she'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw and was already making friends with her new housemates.'"
"Your mother was adopted?" Blaise said, his interest piqued.
"Yes – and there's more," Tracey said quietly. "'Seven years at Hogwarts flew by faster than we could have ever imagined, and before we knew it, the little girl we'd welcomed into our lives and our hearts was a grown woman, ready to go out and conquer the world. She had excellent marks a promising apprenticeship, and she was in love. She'd started seeing Max Davis – your father – in their sixth year, and they were still going strong when they left Hogwarts. Many of her friends questioned her for dating a Slytherin, but she insisted that he was better than a stereotype, and they married just a few years after leaving school. You were born in December of 1979, and to the world, you seemed a very happy family.
'As is the case with many adopted children, Marianne often asked questions about her birth family. It took us an exceedingly long time to track down any satisfactory information – the adoption agency could give us almost nothing, as it hadn't been Marianne's parents who'd brought her to the orphanage in the first place, and we hit countless dead ends during the course of our search. When we finally found out the truth, we were shocked. That Marianne had been brought to a Wizarding orphanage was merely by chance. Our daughter was magical, but her birth parents were not – by birth, our daughter was a Muggle-born.
'Please do not misunderstand that last statement – though we were shocked by the information, we were no less thrilled to have Marianne in our lives. We might be a pureblooded couple, but Marianne's true blood status meant – and still means – nothing to us. We cleaned up enough of her scrapes over the years to know that her blood is exactly the same as ours, and she is our daughter, plain and simple. Unfortunately, your father and his family felt differently – Marianne loved him enough that she told him the truth of her heritage as soon as she knew, not wanting to keep any secrets from him, but Max did not appreciate the knowledge and dissolved their marriage as soon as he could. Blood status was apparently far more important to him than she'd ever known, and he didn't stay married to her any longer than was necessary. We hesitate to suggest anything when we don't know how close you are with your father, but we suspect that the only reason he kept you was because Marianne died suddenly shortly after the marriage ended. We're sorry to say that we don't know the details of how your marriage contract came to be, but we wish you all the best in finding a loophole – no one deserves to be forced into something that should be for love.
Tracey, thank you for finding it in you to write to us, and we hope to hear from you again soon. If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to ask – we will do all that we can to help you.
Fondly,
Jeffrey and Celeste Gardner'"
"Holy Merlin is right," Harry said after a lengthy silence. "That's a lot to take in, Trace."
"Your father even changed his name when he remarried," Draco pointed out. "He introduced himself to me as Beauregard, but your grandparents referred to him as 'Max' in their letter."
"I guess I just assumed he'd always gone by his middle name," Tracey said. "But I guess not. And my mum – my mum is dead." She stared at the letter, reading the flowing script over and over as if it might disappear if she looked away.
"I'm sorry, Tracey," Hermione said softly, reaching over to squeeze the other girl's hand.
"It's ok – I don't even remember her," Tracey said just as quietly. "I just…it would've been nice to have a chance to meet her, to get to know her. Now I know I never will."
"You could still meet your grandparents," Draco pointed out. "They seem more than willing to accept you into their lives, and they sound like decent people."
"We've overlooked one extremely important thing, here," Blaise said. Harry, Draco, and Hermione looked to him for an explanation, but Tracey understood.
"My mother's blood status," she said immediately. "And by extension, mine."
"Yeah – you're a half-blood," Blaise said. To everyone's surprise, he was grinning madly.
"I am," Tracey acknowledged. "But you all should know by now that that doesn't matter to me – what difference does it make that I'm not actually a pureblood?"
"In this case, it makes all the difference in the world," Blaise insisted. "It makes a huge difference, because it means the contract is a lie. The contract specifically creates an alliance through the marriage of two pureblooded children, but you're not a pureblood. That's your loophole – you can dissolve the contract."
A/N: Another long chapter. They found the loophole - YAY! So what did you all think of Tracey's story? Funny coincidence that I only just learned the other day - if you've ever seen the photo of the 'original 40' list from JKR, Tracey Davis is actually listed as a half-blood in those notes. Great how that worked out, isn't it?
Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Hope you're all enjoying so far!
JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)