Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 12 — Into the Unknown
"Daphne."
She looked up from the textbook she'd picked out, wondering who would approach her, especially in a distant corner of the library.
To her surprise, it was Astoria.
Daphne's eyes widened, staring at her younger sister with a measure of disbelief. Her neutral expression gave nothing away.
She'd probably exchanged less than a handful of words with her in the past year, and not for lack of trying.
"Y-yes?"
Astoria held a letter out towards her.
"It's your reply from Father."
Her heart raced as she accepted it, carefully laying the parchment down on the table. Just as Astoria turned to leave, Daphne found her voice.
"Why did he send it to you? Why not me?"
She'd been wondering why it'd taken so long to get a reply, but she'd also half expected it to be ignored. The other girl looked her up and down.
"He wanted my input as Heiress Greengrass. It also came with another letter. For me."
Is she trying to rub it in?
Having other matters on her mind, she blurted out another question before she could stop herself.
"And what did you say?" Daphne asked before her younger sister could run off.
"Father misinterpreted the first letter I sent," Astoria answered blankly. "Potter's a good match, and it's one of the better choices you've made recently."
Ignoring the barb, Daphne was confused. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost think that her aloof sister cared.
"But why?"
There was a pregnant pause.
"You should ask fewer questions," Astoria said eventually, her voice low, "but I'd rather see you with someone you want to be with. Besides, it's better than he thought you would be able to do. Father was looking."
Daphne was left alone to stare at her back as she immediately turned and left. She was somewhat dumbfounded at having an actual conversation with her, however brief it might've been.
Was her sister not as keen as she'd thought on her rumoured betrothal to Malfoy?
She thought she'd have a relatively boring Saturday afternoon, trying to get the hours to pass as quickly as possible whilst studying. Even though the day had been impossibly dull, her excitement at seeing Harry tomorrow evening had gotten her through it.
He'd told her all about his encounter with Tracey, and that had only added to her stress. What was her former best friend up to?
The Dark Lord's interest in Harry unnerved her greatly. Daphne supposed that she should be grateful that Tracey had seemingly opted to side with them, but found it hard to forgive the girl so easily.
If anything, it made her dislike Tracey even more. She'd still betrayed her, and even worse, she'd tried to get to Harry. To take him away.
That was unforgivable in her mind.
With shaking hands, Daphne unfolded the letter on the table, smoothing out the creases carefully. The crackling of the dry parchment made her wince, obnoxiously loud in the quiet library.
Then again, if Madam Pince hadn't interrupted them during Astoria's visit, she likely wouldn't notice.
Daughter,
Inform the Potter heir that I will meet him on Monday night with his Head of House. Even if your sister insists that his efforts to court you are genuine, I must verify that he is a suitable match, regardless of his inheritance or status.
If the betrothal is to go ahead, ensure that he has the galleons available to pay the bride price. 6,500 is the figure at which I will begin negotiations.
Regardless of the outcome, payment will be required immediately if the marriage is to go ahead. This is non-negotiable.
Lord Greengrass.
It was about as impersonal as one could possibly write a letter, and rather than irritated, Daphne was just saddened by it. She suspected that by 'suitable match', he'd want to see that Harry would follow his lead and do as he asked. It was the way of the world to him.
The price of her bride price was also stupidly high. Daphne wasn't ignorant. She knew that someone like her didn't demand nearly as much as her sister might, but her father operated entirely around galleons. It worried her. Would Harry change his mind? Did he even have enough?
At the same time, she couldn't help but feel slightly optimistic. Never in a million years would Daphne have thought that her father would let her get her way. It seemed that Astoria had pleaded her case effectively, and it gave Daphne hope that her sister was finally letting her back in.
Though, Astoria's motives were unknown to her. Did she just want to help her sister?
Because Daphne wasn't sure if it was within her power to return the favour. In a way, her sister had already saved her.
Previously, she'd thought that the loss of her status as Heiress Greengrass had been the worst blow her father could deal to her. But it could've also been a blessing in disguise.
Daphne had lost her whole network, and all of her friends, now including Tracey. She'd lost her social status and most of her inheritance. She'd lost her attachment to her family.
But she'd gained Harry.
And for her, it would all be worth it if the others were willing to toss her aside like that. In a way, she was glad that they had. It showed her what truly mattered. It showed her who mattered.
There was no impending marriage for her to be forced into unwillingly, as she might've just been saved from that. There were no obligations and no need to appease those around her.
Perhaps Daphne would even be able to reconnect with Astoria. Her previous bitterness at her sister had been rapidly dispelled.
Unless the future was kind to her, however, that was all wishful thinking.
With butterflies in her stomach and one last glance at the letter, Daphne packed up her things and headed towards the dungeons. She needed to think.
Will Harry be okay with this?
They would need to be exceptionally careful, seeing as her father hadn't been let in on the plan surrounding Tracey and Harry. If he let anything slip to the wrong person, they would lose their chance. It was a guarantee.
In her nervous state, she completely forgot about going to dinner.
"Daphne, what's bothering you?"
She looked up from fidgeting with the circular tablecloth to see Harry in front of her. Somehow, she'd completely missed his entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens.
He sat down across from her at what had become their table in the corner, gazing at her expectantly.
Without a word, Daphne pushed yesterday's letter across the table. She didn't want to plead or beg. The anxiety had been plaguing her since yesterday, as the more she thought about it, the more she didn't think he would agree.
Her stomach had become a pit of dread.
Harry picked it up carefully, meeting her eyes once more before he began to read.
Daphne watched his face carefully, waiting for his reaction with bated breath.
It was a lot of galleons, and a big ask for Harry to meet her father. She'd spelt out the man's association with the Dark Lord to him already. They could run as they were but wouldn't get far whilst underage. At least one of them had to be a legal adult, and that was assuming that Harry would be willing to give everything up for her, too.
He placed it back down on the table without a word. With one look at her, his expression softened again. Her nerves were more visible than she'd thought.
His arms opened to her in silent invitation, and Daphne darted over to him so quickly she thought she might've apparated. Sitting down sideways on his thigh, she leaned into him and waited for him to speak.
"We'll manage," he soothed, an arm around her waist.
She looked at him disbelievingly.
"You'll do it? Even with that many galleons? That's insane!"
He looked back at her and rolled his eyes, although not mockingly.
"Daphne, you're meant to be trying to convince me. You're too good for this world."
His remark served to dispel the tension rather quickly, and she marvelled once more at his ability to calm her down.
"I… it wouldn't feel right to lie. You don't need to, I'd understand," Daphne responded half-heartedly.
"If you still want to, then I will," he insisted.
"This isn't about me," she pressed. "This is about you. The betrothal was meant to be our last resort. Do you want to do it? Even with all of the problems it will cause? "
Staring into his bright green eyes, Daphne could almost see the sincerity of his next words.
"I do."
"Why?"
She couldn't look away now. His gaze seemed to suck her in.
"I love you."
The words resonated with something deep inside of her, and her heart pounded against her ribcage. All Daphne could do was stare at him with wide eyes, a silly grin stretching across her lips.
She closed the distance rapidly, her forceful kiss a little too enthusiastic. The chair toppled back, ending up with her sitting on his chest. Daphne didn't let it deter her.
Drawing back eventually, she repeated those three words to him in a whisper, separated by less than an inch. His face lit up in a way that she would never forget.
"I have for a while, I think," Daphne continued. "I don't know what it was, but you were willing to look past so much for me."
Harry touched her cheek gently.
"I know it's quick," he said, "and that we've been partially forced into this, but I don't regret any of it. I couldn't imagine going without what we have now."
"You're not forced into it, Harry. You don't have to agree," she replied somberly. "I would never do that."
"I know, and that's why I'm okay with it. I trust you. You've been nothing but honest."
His words, even though he'd said some of them before, still rendered her speechless. The trust that Harry placed in her was staggering. Daphne couldn't fathom the lengths he was willing to go to. If things went sourly, she suspected he was at risk to lose far more than her.
He smiled up at Daphne, then playfully lifted her by the hips and set her down beside him.
"We do need to discuss this, though," Harry said, sitting up and scooting back against the wall.
They probably made for an odd sight, sitting together with a chair on the floor, behind their table. The house elves were continuing with their business as if nothing had happened. For Daphne, though, the last minute would be remembered for a lifetime.
It was a euphoric feeling, knowing that someone cared for her like that.
"We do," she agreed, leaning into him again.
His arm came up around her, and Harry began to run his hand through her hair.
"I want you in there when I talk to your father."
The statement took Daphne by surprise. It was not traditional nor considered 'proper' to have her present during a discussion of that nature.
"Why? I… well don't you think he'd prefer it if we did things properly? That's what you said before," she replied.
As much as she appreciated it, her father was not an easygoing man.
"That was different, Daphne," Harry sighed. "I hate that I have to go in there and haggle for you like you're some common good. You should know every term of the contract."
His words touched something deep inside of Daphne. She wondered if she would ever be able to show him exactly what they did to her.
"If you insist," she replied softly. "I couldn't care less what the terms are as long as he gets as little as possible, and I get you."
"I'll try, but I won't take risks I deem to be unnecessary."
"I trust you to make the right choice."
"I will," he promised. "I can't say for certain if it will work, but I have a plan of sorts."
Daphne tried to reply, staring down at the ground, but her appetite seemed to have caught up with her. Harry smiled at her fondly as her stomach growled. Her skin tingled, a warm sensation spreading across her stomach as he rubbed it gently.
"And you, miss, need to eat. The rest can wait because I can't have you starving yourself again."
Harry walked with Daphne by his side, her hand in his. He could sense her nerves, and it pained him that he was unable to comfort her enough. Though she tried to give him encouraging smiles, they were strained. He squeezed her hand again.
The perpetual gloom of the Hogwarts dungeons now hung in the corridors like a weighty abyss. It pressed against him, seemingly trying to persuade him to avoid the upcoming confrontation. Harry pressed on, however. Nothing would stand between him and Daphne.
He'd even leave the country if it came to it. There was little left for him here.
The bride price price worried him too. If this was a muggle wedding, then he should've been jumping for joy. Of course, wizarding customs were different. He would be responsible for the bride price payment.
Muggles required payment from the bride's family to the groom's. This was to ensure that the couple-to-be had the funds for their own household.
In contrast, wizards had to already be wealthy in their own right to enter a betrothal. Otherwise, their low status wasn't worth the risk. The bride price functioned more as a purchase price — compensation for taking the daughter away from her family. He briefly wondered how many galleons he would be out of pocket after this, but banished the thought. Harry was never one to care much for galleons.
She drew closer to him, and Harry saw her eyeing the door ahead warily. It hurt him to know that she was painfully anxious. If he had a family, and they were embroiled in this mess just as much as hers, he knew it would bother him. Even if he wasn't fond of them.
Professor Snape's office was just as depressing as the rest of the Hogwarts dungeons. The large, black oak door loomed ahead, looking as if it had been forcefully pressed into the grimy dark brick wall without a thought. Of course, the corridor in which it was located was a dead end, too.
Harry had only been here a handful of times, and not having an escape route always set him on edge. Maybe it was a practised wariness, or some inherited sense from his animagus form, or even a remnant of his childhood. Either way, he hated it. Of course, Daphne's father also had to schedule their meeting for Monday of all days.
Daphne stopped next to him. Harry turned and met her eyes, filled with worry. He could almost feel her heart racing through the heavy pulse in her warm hand, which was now holding onto his with surprising strength.
Softening, he pulled her in, and she hugged him tightly.
"Thanks, Harry," Daphne murmured into his chest. "You didn't have to do this."
He drew back, leaning down to kiss her temple gently.
"I'm not doing it because I have to. I'm doing it because I want to. For us."
Her eyes watered, but she grinned before biting her lip.
"One for good luck?" Daphne asked nervously, tapping her mouth.
As if I could say no, Harry thought as he obliged.
When he pulled back, her smile was much brighter than before.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Daphne nodded, a rosy tint on her cheeks.
They continued, approaching the door. Harry looked at Daphne, squeezing her hand for the last time before they entered, and steeled himself.
If it was a trap of sorts, he always had the trump card of his animagus form, but he would do his best to keep that hidden from all but Daphne as long as he could.
He reached for the door handle and gripped it firmly. The iron hinges creaked as he pulled it open, but it eventually gave way. Harry knew it would have been polite to knock, but he was not here to make friends with the man. He was here to free Daphne from her lifetime of neglect. Regardless, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, wishing for the hundredth time that Daphne's parents would've been kinder.
You can't choose your family.
It was something he knew all too well.
The room was circular, and book-laden shelves crowded the walls. It was not as dim as the corridor outside, yet felt even more confined. The light didn't seem to reach the bookshelves, leaving an oppressive dark ring around its edges.
Harry immediately met the gaze of the man sitting across from the door.
The eyes were dark and narrow, containing none of the warmth of his daughter's and instead instilling a sense of unease. Black robes hung off broad shoulders, accentuating his frame. His jaw was wide, but strong, matching the rest of his severe features. Harry was momentarily taken aback by the formidable man but held his gaze unflinchingly.
A throat cleared from the corner, and he spotted Professor Snape watching the two of them curiously.
"Shall we?"
Soren Greengrass stared into the boy's hard green eyes, which bored straight back at him. The beginnings of chiselled features were beginning to show, his jet-black hair bordering on messy. Heir Potter was not what he'd expected. Whilst he was of average height, he radiated a presence that seemed to fill the room. His movements betrayed no nervousness, rather they were deliberate and smooth. If he was anxious then Soren had no way of knowing.
Impressive, for a mere boy of fifteen.
He knew straight away that this would complicate things. Potter would not be as easy to convince him as he'd thought if his confidence translated into stubborn negotiation.
Soren shifted his gaze to his daughter, who still hadn't left the room, and was instead standing beside Potter. He eyed their intertwined hands curiously as he stood. She seemed uneasy, not meeting his eyes, yet also stood her ground beside the boy. Her face gave nothing away.
Holding out a hand, he stepped forward.
"Lord Soren Greengrass," he greeted, allowing his slight Danish accent to filter through.
Potter let go of his daughter's hand and also stepped forward, grasping his firmly.
"Harry Potter. A pleasure to meet you, Lord Greengrass."
His cool tone suggested that it was anything but.
"Likewise, Heir Potter," he acknowledged, glancing back at his daughter as he let go of the boy's hand. "You may now leave us, Daughter."
"She stays," Potter immediately answered, so quickly that it was almost an interruption.
He looked down at him incredulously.
"It is not traditional to involve the witch in such discussions, nor does it conform to social etiquette. I would have hoped you to be fluent in wizarding customs…"
Potter's expression hardened.
"If you wish for this meeting to go ahead, you'll let her stay."
Frustration began to mount within him, but Soren restrained it, still staring back at Potter. He was partially impressed by how the boy was pushing the envelope already. At the same time, he felt that the boy had already given away too much.
By agreeing to let her stay, Soren would be the one to make the first concession. In the spirit of business, that meant that it would already be Potter's turn to make one.
He would allow it, for now, even if it irritated him. It could pay off.
"So be it, but everything comes at a cost, Heir Potter. You'd best remember that."
The glare he anticipated never came. His face remained blank, and he didn't answer, instead choosing to expand the small settee with his wand so that there was room for his daughter too.
Both sat, though Soren never took his eyes off the boy. The Slytherin Head of House remained standing, appearing disinterested from where he leaned against a bookshelf.
"I trust you have the galleons?" Soren asked lowly, not quite ready to slide the betrothal contract onto the table that separated them for him to sign.
He wanted to prod some more before then. Soren hadn't been entirely honest in his letter to his daughter, but that was business. Some things were better left unsaid.
It didn't concern him whether the boy was a moron. What mattered was that he was mildly competent, and not too rebellious.
"I do, but do you not think the sum to be quite inflated?"
He'd expected such a response.
"Let me ask you this," he replied, pausing to let Potter stew. "What dictates the bride price price exactly?"
"The social status wealth of both families for the most part, as well as the age and fertility of the bride."
Soren could tell that the boy was somewhat unnerved.
"Whilst somewhat correct, you are missing one certain detail. Competition. You are not the only one interested in one of my daughters."
Potter's expression remained as blank as ever, but something flickered behind his eyes.
The higher the bride price, the more it'll help her status, Soren thought. Both of us benefit.
"6,800 galleons."
Potter didn't even try to question it, which surprised him, but he'd never turn down a better deal for himself.
"7,500 galleons," he countered.
"6,850 galleons."
"7,000 galleons and regency over your two seats in the Wizengamot until you are of age."
Potter frowned at this but didn't seem to dismiss it outright. His daughter, however, looked on with wide eyes.
"7,000 galleons and my support in the Wizengamot until the election of the next Minister of Magic if you get me into my seats early," he offered after thinking for a moment.
Daphne Greengrass began to bob her leg nervously at that, but Potter placed a hand on it as if to stop her from protesting.
Soren smirked inwardly at this. The boy seemed to have no idea about the current political situation. He just seemed eager to feel like he had a measure of control. After all, how would he know?
Fortunately for him, his daughter stayed silent.
Perfect.
Cornelius Fudge was firmly in the pockets of the various Lords, himself now included. Soren had privately aligned himself with Lucius Malfoy, who was the de-facto hegemon of their various… alliances. The offer he'd received for his multiple businesses would've been outrageous to decline. Now he paid no import taxes, was able to move large amounts of questionable product freely, and all he'd needed to give in return was his vote in the Wizengamot on relevant matters and a small stake of said businesses. Soren had also received an immediate injection of galleons, with which he'd begun to upscale his operations.
There was little chance that Cornelius was going anywhere soon, not with all of their support. Potter's offer would give him far more time and influence than two years of regency could ever provide. All it would take was a private request to the Minister and Potter would be emancipated. It didn't even have to be a spectacle — there would be a ready-made case for it.
Being the last of his line and betrothed, Potter would need to be a legal adult to organize the marriage itself, as it was up to the wizard's family to finance the event.
Never before had there been a wizard betrothed with no remaining wizarding relations. Usually, being in Potter's situation resulted in an immediate erosion of social status so severe that no one in their right mind would agree to a betrothal.
Lineage was nothing to brag about if they were all buried.
Yet, Potter was a unique case. His status had grown exponentially instead, and being the Black heir only added to that. The boy would make for a powerful pawn. He was lucky that he'd gotten to him early.
Public opinion would sway quickly, and there was no precedent against it. Soren almost couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd kill two birds with one stone, and that didn't even include the potential it provided to grow his wealth and status further. It would be exponential.
His only lingering concern was whether or not he should send a letter to Lucius first.
There was much that could go wrong if anyone else got their hands on such information. They only discussed such matters in person, after all. Soren was hesitant to face the others, as he knew Lords Nott and Avery to be particularly machiavellian. They wouldn't hesitate to see if they could claim something for themselves. Whilst the two would never sabotage Lucius, Soren was a new variable and wasn't yet established enough to warrant the necessary level of respect.
Lucius also had his 'benefactor', who Soren hadn't yet met, but believed to also be a powerful man based on how he was spoken of.
He would need to keep it a secret for now, as he trusted no one else to look out for him. The potential for something to go wrong was too high.
His allies could make for dangerous enemies. They were infamous enough already. All it would take was a slip of the tongue.
A deadly game, he decided, glancing at his daughter.
As neutrally as he now felt about the girl, he'd not risk her life needlessly. Not when a proposal such as this was essentially handed to him.
With the younger Malfoy's interest in Astoria, Soren's future would be easily secured. Two more powerful families linked to his own, and three if he included Potter's Black inheritance.
He reached out to shake the boy's hand.
"You have a deal."
Potter, however, did not take it.
"There are some small matters that I wish to clarify before we continue."
Slowly lowering his hand, he looked at Potter curiously. As much as he wanted to feel insulted, Soren did not want to give up such a tantalising deal yet.
"Do continue," he spoke firmly, shrugging off the perceived slight.
"I want only Daphne to be the one who can break the contract, and I want the bride price to go to her if I die before the wedding commences. Only she would be able to spend it. I do not have a requirement for the wedding, but I want us both to be sixteen before we are forced to consummate it if we have not before then."
Whilst noble, Soren couldn't help but feel that the boy's request was horribly naïve. Nobility was also easily exploited, however. Looking at his daughter, he could see that even she was shocked.
Why the boy thought death to be such a pressing matter for him, he didn't know. That was the only part that set him on edge. Risks, however, were an integral part of doing business.
"Har-"
Potter quieted Soren's daughter with a look. He was glad that she'd kept her mouth shut. She had no mind for business, and he was once again comforted by his choice to make Astoria the primary heiress instead.
The girl simply did not act in the best interests of her family.
Potter's request itself was a trivial thing, as he could never fathom his daughter having the nerve to rebel to the extent at which she would cause unfixable problems. Having it written onto a betrothal contract, however, was hugely untraditional, going against more than a handful of wizarding customs on inheritance.
The goblins would likely accept it, though.
Soren eventually shrugged.
"Alright, but it'll cost you," he reminded.
Potter stared back with narrowed eyes.
"8,000 galleons with everything we agreed on before, and you can keep the galleons if she breaks it herself. I will vow to never force her to do such."
Soren's hand shot out like a bolt of lightning.
"Deal."
This time, Potter took his hand and shook it over the table.
Ludicrous, he thought. They'll be green with envy when it's done.
Close to an hour later, Soren slid the newly-made contract onto the table for the boy to sign. Whilst it would usually require the signature of a legal adult, Soren already had that covered. Before he filed it at Gringotts, he would send the aforementioned letter to the Minister and be 8,000 galleons richer before the week was out. The goblins would be able to confirm that it was Potter's signature, even if he'd signed it whilst technically underage.
He walked over to the Professor's floo and travelled home without so much of a glance at his daughter, a spring in his step. It was one of the best deal's he'd made in his lifetime. Never did he think he would be able to fetch so much for his eldest — he'd been dreading the impact that his actions in stripping her title from her would have on her bride price.
Soren had been entirely wrong.
Or so he thought.
Daphne's mind was in overdrive.
She couldn't believe the number of concessions Harry had made for her.
And the galleons…
Part of her wanted to scold him for giving her father so much. Even Astoria's bride price likely wouldn't be that high.
As soon as they made it to the Room of Requirement that night after her father had left, Daphne tugged on his hand.
Whilst they should've probably gone to bed, neither seemed to want to be parted just yet. Too many unspoken words hung in the air between them.
Harry followed her to a large armchair, not unlike the one they'd both just sat in, and seemed to wait for her to speak. She sat back against him, wondering where to start. A volatile mixture of emotions swirled within her.
It was weird, knowing that she was now legally bound to marry someone.
"Are you sure?" Daphne eventually asked.
"More than anything. It was worth every galleon, Daphne."
"Even the contract?"
"Even the contract," he confirmed, "no matter if you break it or not."
"And supporting my father in the Wizengamot?"
"He seems to be under the delusion that I plan to take up my seats when emancipated. I never stated anywhere that I would. The only way that part of the deal will take hold is if I went and claimed them."
Understanding set in. Her father, with all of his so-called business acumen, had been played by Harry. The man probably assumed that it was a given that Harry would take up his seats, as it was tradition, but she knew well by now that Harry was not a typical wizard.
He never failed to surprise her.
If anything, she was shocked that her father had not thought twice about it. In his rush to make the deal, he'd completely overlooked it.
"You'd even give up that for me?" she asked incredulously.
It was his birthright, after all, to at least take up the Potter seat. He had two, but he seemed content to let them continue to gather dust for her.
"Yes. Politics are a rotten business anyway."
She knew the implications of what Harry had accomplished. If luck was on their side, he would be emancipated shortly, and that would give them a much greater chance at survival. As long as her father didn't let anything slip, anyway. Daphne thought she knew him well enough to know that he would keep it secret.
The way he'd barely acknowledged her had hurt, but not as much as it used to. Daphne knew what to expect by now. Soren Greengrass could go to hell, for all she cared. She was but a means to an end for him.
Daphne held no ill will against her mother. Lise Greengrass was far too timid to ever stand against her husband, and she had forgiven her inaction a while ago. The husband could exert supreme control over the household if he wished, and her father had done just that. Daphne didn't even think she could blame Astoria anymore. Her sister had been young and impressionable when the heiress switch happened. She still was to some extent, just like herself.
She finally suspected that there was a chance for them to close the gap that separated her from her sister, but much stood in their way. For one, there was Malfoy's interest in her.
Judging by the way her father had conducted himself, he would try to extract as many galleons as possible before signing off on a contract.
Thinking of the potential of a contract reminded her of the other provisions Harry had insisted on. Even though she thought she knew him so well by now, Daphne had never expected those.
"Why did you give me the ability to break the contract and keep the galleons? That's a lot of gold, Harry, and please tell me you don't think you're going to die…"
She trailed off as he cupped her chin gently and tilted her head up so that their eyes met when he leaned over.
"I didn't want you to feel trapped. As for the galleons, they mean nothing to me. Do you have any idea just how big the Black Estate is?"
She shook her head, enjoying the sensation of his lingering touch.
"Even if they squandered a lot of their wealth in the last war, there is enough to live comfortably for a long time, and I'd trade it all for you. That's not even a question," he stated firmly, "and if something were to happen to me, then I want you to have a chance. I can't leave you alone with nothing."
"Would you hate me if I said that I don't want to break the contract?" Daphne asked.
She had to blink away a few tears that blurred her vision. One leaked out and carved a track down her cheek, being halted in its path by Harry's thumb.
"No," he answered quietly. "It's your decision, and you know how I feel by now."
Daphne hated how emotional she'd been this semester already, but Harry never seemed to mind. He was always there to pick her up when she fell.
"I do," she replied.
She was still in awe that someone loved her. As a brief silence settled, Daphne burrowed back into him further, desperate to seek out more of his warmth. Since it was nearly winter break, the castle had been even more frigid than usual.
"There's another reason for that provision, by the way," Harry admitted eventually.
She settled back against his chest and leaned her head back, patiently waiting for him to explain. He was staring ahead with glassy eyes, something that Daphne had learnt by now to suggest that he was in deep thought.
"If your father does somehow inform the others that I'm about to become a legal adult, they'll panic. It goes against everything they wanted to do with Tracey. In my mind, that certain clause will at least make them hesitate to outright kill me. If they do, then you'll at least have the gold to flee, but I don't want to leave you alone. I want a chance for a family."
"And you'll get it, Harry, " Daphne promised, a lump in her throat at his brutal honesty. "I want one too. We'll get through this mess."
"I hope so, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. You'll also be a legal adult if we marry. We'll need to decide what's best," Harry responded.
"As long as you're with me."
"I will for as long as I can be."
She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. One of her hands snaked up and around to the nape of his neck, trying to reassure him as best she could through her touch.
Tomorrow was Tuesday, and they had a few weeks of classes left before the winter break, but Daphne didn't want to move. She was more lying than sitting at the moment, anyway, and Harry made for a comfortable pillow. Settling her head on his chest, she chose to rest her eyes for a minute.
Vaguely, Daphne felt him cradle her head against him. Small vibrations came from his torso, hinting at his amusement, but sleep claimed her before she could react.
A/N
Big chapter this time, even though I've been very busy. I'm glad so many seem to be enjoying this story. The reviews have been great lately. Thanks to all those that continue to leave them, and if you haven't, then feel free to.
Yes, it pained me to write her father like this, but I must do the story justice. I hope I have.
