Snakecharmer
Chapter 6
In Vino Veritas
–
"Thanks for meeting with me, Harry," Glenn greeted, as I closed the sitting room doors behind me.
I nodded, taking in the room, seeing a number of the ledgers we'd acquired from Hawkins the day before arrayed on a table, two bottles of sherry, and what looked to be a few contracts. Looking back to my host, I grinned slightly. "No need to thank me, it is your house."
Glenn scoffed, indicating a seat. "Perhaps, but social graces are what keep us separate from barbarism. Now, I'm sure after such a full day yesterday, you realize we have much to do?"
Affecting a resigned sigh, I nodded, and we shared a chuckle as the table between us became littered with things to sign, read, and consider.
I had the sense of mind last night to ask Gally to show me to an owl, and wrote out a small inquiry to Gringotts asking for my current balance, and a rate of exchange to Pounds. I knew I'd need this to figure out what options I had for the inheritance, so best to get started. By the time I had finished the letter however, I had no idea if they'd accept it. It wasn't as if I could tape my key to the thing.
Greengrass ran into me on the way back, apparently needing to owl something as well. Only, it looked like his was a Howler. How odd. He just didn't strike me as the kind of man to send such a thing. We briefly discussed options, and he took me to the study and introduced me to a truly irritating device called a Blood Quill.
My signature in blood would prove my claim to the vault, and as he explained, the loathsome things were used for all kinds of binding documents. Just one more oddity of the wizarding world, I suppose.
I pulled the notice to my side, and did the calculations for the balance in my vaults. The trust vault was explained simply enough – I could do whatever I wanted with it. What lay in the family vaults however, I would need the approval of either a legal guardian or...
Legal guardian. My quill fell out of my hand. "You. You made the Dursleys sign over my guardianship to you."
Glenn sat back, a somewhat pleased smile on his face. "Yes. And the day after, I submitted the same forms to the Ministry's liaison to the Crown's offices for verification and notarization."
Sweet Merlin on a bike, the man had me by the throat and I didn't even know it. "So all the things you talked about with me yesterday-"
"I knew. How do you think I could get a solicitor to look into the situation?" The smirk on Greengrass' face made me absolutely ill. "Harry, think for a moment. Why would I take you to such a meeting? Why would I explain the situations to you, and ask for your input?"
I closed my eyes, as the maddening rush of panic in my head calmed marginally. The man had a point. He was acting, had been acting, like council to me, or an advisor. If he wanted to, he could have likely just signed all the required forms for regency or whatever the hell it took, and just ran with it at day one. Instead he hired someone to essentially explain it to me, and then turned around to ask me how I wanted to do things. "Alright. Alright, I'm just going to say that was well played."
"Thank you."
"And I ask you actually explain it when you have me by the balls in the future, if I don't see it immediately."
Booming a laugh, Greengrass sat back and regarded me with a smile. "Alright, Harry. I promise. But you do see that I've tried so far to inform and act on your behalf? I've made no actions other than securing that guardianship, which also acts as a safeguard. Nothing short of conviction and sentencing to Azkaban for me and my wife will counter it." With a feral grin, he jabbed the table with a finger. "And if they tried? I have a few other counters put in place."
I swallowed nervously. "What kind of counters?"
"Tell me Harry, what do you think of the Delacours? Ever consider learning French?"
I gaped at the man. "Your... your counter is to send me toFrance?!"
"You and my daughters," he amended, causing me to sit back. I never expected the man before me to be so well connected. "Jean-Paul Delacour is a business partner of mine, and casual acquaintance. However, he was most accommodating, once I asked his opinion of a certain savior of his youngest daughter. Gabrielle, I understand, has taken quite the interest in you."
Glenn finally stopped laughing, once my sting of curses died off. Returning to my calculations, I finished tallying my finances, at least in liquid form, and converting the numbers to Pounds. I slid that total to Glenn, who nodded with a slight frown. "Problem?"
Shaking his head, Glenn did some of his own calculations. "Not as such. I can take the Inheritance Tax out of your family vault, but there won't be much left, which does pose a problem. We need to get those wills. I'm sure there are more properties listed under them. I don't recall Godric's Hollow being in the ledgers at all yesterday."
I winced at the mention of my parent's former home and the site of their death. Still, what he said made a kind of sense, "Did you ask him to research all of what I would be inheriting, or just what was under those titles?"
Greengrass looked at me blankly for a moment, before rubbing at his temple lightly. "The curse of age, Mr. Potter, is that you start assuming you know everything." Sighing, he penned a quick note and rose, "I'll be right back," he muttered, walking off grumbling something about needing more owls.
While he was away, I spied on his notes, and couldn't stop the low whistle in response. He wasn't joking. That damned Inheritance Tax would drain quite a lot of my liquid wealth. There was quite a bit more money tied up in old investments and properties, and there was of course the option of selling one of the titles – Greengrass had scratched out a rough cost-to-profit schedule for zeroing the debt on Cyfarthfa Castle, then either selling it or as his options noted, converting it in some fashion.
I wasn't terribly enthused about that, but saw the possible necessity. Only the title of Earl Ravensworth was hereditary, the others were tied into the ownership or custodianship of the lands and responsibilities they accompanied. It just irked me, that I might have to take such drastic measures.
When Greengrass was back, I was studiously scratching out my signature on the claimant's forms, and itching the back of my hand. Wretched little device...
"Alright, Hawkins will Floo me later, possibly tomorrow on the status of the wills. Likely, as Sirius was incarcerated, they were never opened."
I nodded and sat back, rubbing at my eyes. One of the things I found rather bothersome about wizarding legislature, happened to be the contracts. Unlike what I recalled from my admittedly limited exposure to the muggle variety, everything legal and magical so far was hand written, in massively loopy and archaic form. Frankly, it gave me a headache.
Greengrass seemed to read my mood and passed me a glass, half full of amber liquid. "Cheaper than headache potion, and not nearly as rough going down," the man commented, tossing back a mouthful of his own.
Shrugging, I mimicked his action, and nearly spat the mouthful onto all the documents I'd just signed. "Gah!" Glaring all the while, I managed to choke down the sherry while Greengrass laughed.
Once the initial paperwork was done for working up the claimant's portion the the Wizengamot and the Ministry, things sped up, as the Crown's forms were much simpler. Those we'd need to deliever to the proper offices, and have an agent of Her Majesty swear me in. To my amusement, I found the muggle portion of this more ceremonial. According to Greengrass, all I had to do for my part was state a motion during a Wizengamot session, and declare my intent and my regent.
Seemed simple enough.
While we sipped sherry, conversation turned toward less weighty topics, and my host asked if I had any questions. In truth, I did, but likely not in the direction he was thinking. Once again I was thankful for the Occlumency studying I had done, and for the clarity and focus it gave me. If not for that, all the revelations the last few weeks and following events would have likely left me so emotionally unbalanced as to be striking out randomly and brooding in corners.
After my unpleasant interlude with Astoria the previous afternoon, I took a hard look at things and realized she was, in her own small, irritating, and evil way, correct. Since my first year at Hogwarts, so much that went on had been about me, revolved around me in some fashion. Even here with the Greengrasses it seemed the same, but that not-so-subtle reminder did quite a lot to adjust my views.
Glenn approached me, much like he would a very questionable business partner. He secured my cooperation – given, he didn't have to try hard to do so. I may not hate my relations, but given the choice to escape the Dursleys and the memories there to train, learn, and actually make something like progress for a summer? It wasn't a real choice, in my mind.
After that, he built up security between us. I was protected here, even if it was as I said, a gilded cage. I was under no illusions on that, ever. It was my choice to stay there though. I could have slipped the leash in London easily enough. If at the time my reasons were flawed – desperately wanting to escape the Dursleys, a desire to do anything to distract me from the reality that was Voldemort, a chance to do something other than scullery duty over a summer – then I could live with that. I'll be the first in line to say I make mistakes, and am not perfect. I can live with an imperfect decision.
Finally, Greengrass began laying out the details of our deal. This was as much about him and his family as me, I could tell, and so I had reason to think he would be fair. Why? Becausehesoughtmeout. He needed me, and so had to make it appeal, make it attractive to me. Call me narcissistic if you want, but it's more than I've gotten so far.
"Oh, Harry, you're a wizard – you get to go to Hogwarts!" It was a wonderful thing, but did I have a choice? The trend continued. Greengrass admitted he was willing to take me by force those weeks ago, but first he approached me not as a child, or a tool, or a possession, but an equal.
Of course I wanted to see where things would lead.
Yesterday gave me a lot to think about, but in a way, also very little. My inheritance was a simple matter, provided I could get the money from my family vaults. I would pay the tax, make sure the former school wasn't going to be sold, and deal with Dorham and his complaints, and the needs of Collingwood, if funds allowed. If not, then we'd figure something out. Maybe I'd repair and bring one of the properties back up to livable conditions. I didn't want to stay with the Greengrass family forever, after all.
One more afternoon of chatting with Astoria, and I may find myself forced to look up Snape for more accommodating company.
Newcastle and the Eslington Barony I didn't know what to do with, yet. That I could potentially oversee and be responsible for an entire metropolitan city was... appalling. Did no one think these laws through? Was the simple possession of blood, a passing of name such a determinant of ability, that people would blindly follow such a thing? Obviously not, considering the many wars, both civil and abroad, that centered on unfair rule.
No, it wasn't rule I was given over Newcastle. I was responsible for it.To it. My decisions could impact thousands of lives, in positive or negative ways, and those choices be cause for anything from praise to open revolt and... and what? Was there in place, systems like Dorham meant to use, to remove those responsibilities from me? I would have to look such things up.
My decisions toward my inheritance were simple – I would work to bring honor to my heritage. I wouldn't let anyone take that from me.
It was the other item that had been weighing on my mind, that refused to sit comfortably in the box I made for it. Oddly, however, I didn't find myself upset or wanting to brood as I had, after realizing I missed my chance with Cho. This was of course fundamentally different, but I only had so many points of reference to call on. Daphne, I realized, had become a fairly regular part of my day, and because of that, things that affected her place in it upset what I'd come to think of as my comfortable routine.
I could only give this notion more merit, as my feelings, jumbled and inscrutable as they were, settled into a kind of holding pattern. I wasn't upset about Montague, therefore I could not be jealous. Did that mean I didn't care about Daphne? Not exactly. I wasn't sure there... she was a bright, attractive, and without sounding cliché, I admitted a very unique girl. Daphne was her own person – and damn anyone who tried to make it otherwise! I let those thoughts drift back to the safety of routine notion, where they settled uncomfortably, but without much argument.
Was I worried about her? Yes, I could answer without hesitation. Did that mean I wanted something more between us? Considering her usual method of dealing with me was to either berate me about something, ignore me, or curse me, I had to say no. I would need to understand her better, and perhaps know that she was accommodating to the idea, before such a thing could happen, and right now, those things were lacking.
In the future? Hell in the future I could be dating Katie Bell. Dwelling there was unhealthy. One day at a time.
I was pulled out of my introspection by Mr. Greengrass nudging a glass my way, "Are you feeling well?"
Realizing I'd just spaced out on the man, I apologized, and we shared an amused moment at my expense, thanks to the strong drink. "So," I breached the silence, "What did you want to talk with me about?" There was this, also. He's told me quite bluntly he had a few things to discuss with me – one of which was my earlier question on his goals – today after business.
Glenn waved a hand vaguely about, "Life, the universe, everything," he said airily, to my bemused expression. "No?" Obviously something he expected was lacking in my reaction, and he sat back with a sign. "I'll have to have Daphne loan you those books. Quite entertaining.
"Speaking of my daughter," he none-too-gently guided the conversation, "I was wondering if you had anything you'd like to ask me?"
Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and peaked my fingers in a gesture I'd picked up from him, "Perhaps. Was it truly necessary for us to study Occlumency together?"
I'd put a number of things together last night, and the biggest of them was this. If Greengrass intended me to stay on at his home beyond the summer break that is be housed her during holidays while school was in, yes – Daphne would need to learn Occlumency. This didn't seem to be the case, as he literally took me by the hand to one of my properties. By his own reasons, however, that of protecting our minds at the Wizengamot, or from others about the nature of my stay here, the answer was no.
It was just unlikely Daphne would be singled out. Perhaps he was doing so for safety, but was it needed? I can't imagine so.
Glenn looked pensive, swirling his sherry in his glass slowly. "Needed? Perhaps not at the same time. She is young yet, and it can be dangerous for one without the talent to learn Occlumency if they have no skill in it," he admitted. Throwing back the rest of his drink, he poured another and observed it carefully. "Will you forgive me a father's foolishness?"
Closing my eyes, I nodded once, having come to this conclusion earlier. "Go on."
"I had hoped," Greengrass muttered, shaking his head, eyes distant. "You had enough political potential to secure not only the future of my family, but the prestige and reputation, if guided properly, to have enough momentum to be nearly unstoppable. I would teach you the art of politics, and you two would grow close, protecting one another, bolstering and helping each other." Grimacing, he huffed out a half-hearted curse. "Never wager on the hearts of young girls, Mr. Potter. You will always loose."
I was far from happy with him, but what was I to do? Take a potential ally and discard all they represented? I hoped I was smarter than that. "Look," I said bluntly, foregoing all social graces, "I do like Daphne, she seems a decent enough person. Currently, we're barely friendly with one another. I don't know what you expected to happen..."
Greengrass colored somewhat and huffed, "Nothing of that sort. I know she bonded well with young Longbottom, and has close friendships with both Miss Davis and Mr. Zabini. I just had hopes the same would occur, and that the two of you would find... companionship."
"Companionship?" I asked with some incredulity, though I kept my voice even.
"Someone to confide in. A friend. I hoped studying Occlumency would give you both insight into one another..." trailing off, he took a long drink of his sherry and grimaced. "Perhaps I was too optimistic. I hope you will forgive a man his machinations."
"Why me, though?" I figured it was a decent enough question. Aside from the benefits he mentioned, I also carried quite a lot of negatives. There was a Dark Lord in there, somewhere, if I recall correctly.
Laughing somewhat dryly, Glenn stood and paced about slowly, obviously thinking better on his feet. "I knew your father, though only by reputation. He was a just, honorable, upstanding young man – once he got out of school," he amended. "Lily seemed to anchor him. Evie and I have a wonderful relationship, and it strengthens us both. Sometimes we aren't our best, without someone there to be our best for.
"Do you hope, Mr. Potter?" The sudden question made me look up with surprise, and Glenn continued. "Hope for the future? Hope for something better? I mentioned a wager," pausing, the man stopped his pacing, and looked down at his hands wearily. "What would you do, to make sure a good future came to those you cared about? Would you sacrifice everything? Would you do everything in your power?
"Daphne... she's an amazing girl. Strong. Stronger than I could have hoped," Greengrass explained, a slight smile coming at the mention of his daughter. "I'm not a fool. Dumbledore may think he has a monopoly on secrets, but they are a currency trafficked widely. I know you faced You-Know-Who in your first year. I know of the basilisk, and what the Chamber implied, though one day I would like to hear the full tale. I know of your godfather, and I know thathepicked you, to be part of his resurrection." Glenn closed his eyes a moment, looking old and worn and unhappy. "Strength calls to strength, Harry. It pools and gathers and swells. Some destiny rests on you. My hope lies in you realizing it, whatever it is, that you point your strength at it and overcome. My hope is Daphne, and Astoria."
I sat, speechless for a score of minutes. "You... you would put them on the line, overhope?"
"No," he countered, a thread of anger at my accusation. "I would put myself on the line. For them, I only want the best; an open promise for the future."
"Why me, then?" I asked again, uncomprehending.
Glenn Greengrass came, knelt down before me and put a hand on either of my shoulders. He stared into my eyes with such a frank and earnest belief, it nearly hurt. "Because you will win. Because you will win."
–
Perhaps it wasn't the most tactful thing to reply with, but I could honestly think of no other response. "Are you daft?"
Laughing, Greengrass sat back on the floor, and I realized with a jolt, that the man was drunk. Looking to one of the bottles of sherry, I noted it was easily over half empty already, and recalling when I had joined him... he had obviously begun some time before I arrived. "Perhaps," he hedged, shrugging. "Evie says I am. That this is a fool's errand. Perhaps it is."
"You... intended on me falling for your daughter?" I asked, foregoing any tact. "You set us both up, in hopes we'd get close, and that... that what? What do you gain?"
Shaking his head, Glenn made his way back to a chair, dropping his glass onto the table with a heavy 'thunk'. "Are you happy with this world, Mr. Potter?"
Greengrass' changes in direction during our conversation were dizzying. At times I frankly wondered if I should just call Gally or his wife and hope he was more coherent another day. Still, this was a shining opportunity to learn things the man would otherwise not allow... with a start, I realized that may very well be the point. Glenn wasn't a foolish man, nor was he prone to excesses, that I'd seen.
This in mind, I regarded my host evenly, before heaving a sigh. "No. I'm not happy with it. It robbed me of a childhood, my godfather of more than a decade of his life and sanity, my parents their lives... and it suffers fools to lead." Standing, I refilled my own glass, suddenly feeling an aching burn in my head that just gnawed at me. "So, to answer your question," throwing back the alcohol, I cough, wheeze, and catch a stilling breath. "No. I'm not happy with it."
"Do you realize, that what Voldemort intends, is to remake Britain in his idea? Before his temporary banishment, his views were... frankly, revolutionary.
"Oh, they weren't new ideas," he clarified, leaning back and closing his eyes, content to tell his tale. "Traditionalist ideas. Wizards before muggles, pure blood before thin. Things like the old Inquisitions of the Spanish may seem long ago and far away to muggles, who live maybe for seventy, eighty years, but when we can double those lifespans, it brings such things home." Chuckling darkly, Glenn shook his head, "No, we have long memories. So many things changed this last century. Muggles did so much. They outstripped us wholly," bitterness crept into the man's voice, here. "The Moon. Can you believe it? Flying. Diving into the depths that we can only imagine. They can even make creatures of their own now. Like Chimeras, pieces from this and that.
"And the wars," going still, Glenn sighed, slumping. "Mr. Potter – Harry – I am no fool. I know what will happen if Voldemort wins. It will not be the dawn of a new age for wizarding kind. It will be the dawn of our apocalypse."
I wonder how much of this is due to drink, and how much is his frank belief. "What do you mean? It would be stupid of him to destroy that which he wants to rule over."
"Oh no," the man amended, "He was no fool. Scary brilliant. Quite the charming, charismatic leader in fact. But he hated, and that hatred blinded him, I have to think."
Greengrass went on to tell me stories of death and destruction, at the hands of the more militant Death Eaters. Tests, he claimed, on what he could get away with, pushing at the boundaries of what would come after. "And in the end? I think he realized what so many of us refuse to. Fear. It can control us, even when we don't know what causes it. He could slay an entire village of muggles – what would our Ministry do? Nothing. Cover it up. Obliviate. Adhere to the Statutes. Why? Because they didn't want to be next. What would the Crown do? Send investigators, send police... all which would accomplish nothing, except put them on edge. Chip away at that wall between us."
"But, if Fudge actually spoke to the Prime Minister, or the Crown – whoever it is he deals with – then the two powers could coordinate."
I was put aback by Glenn's laughter, "Harry! You expect awizard, a wizard who bullied his way through the mire of the Ministry to the head of it, to entreat tomuggles? Fudge would rather give you an Order of Merlin for calling him an idiot!" His laughter ebbed, died down and settled to a sigh. "We are proud, Harry. Too proud to see the threat there. Voldemort cannot pull punches anymore, or he'll loose more face. You've defied and bested him too many times.
"He has to strike, and when he does so, it won't be lightly. Otherwise he'll loose what support he has, or can gain." Grimly, my host continued, "And that will be his blindness. He will eventually go too far. Something will break in the muggle's tolerance and ability to disbelieve in us. And then?We will end."
My mouth was dry, and I didn't really like the angry buzz in my head, so took another drink. "I can't be that bad."
Greengrass snorted. "World War Two. The bombing of Hiroshima," the man pointed out, and my eyes widened. "It wasn't against a magical location. Purely muggle vs. muggle aggression. However, there was a heavily warded district within the blast range. It was scoured, obliterated," the man mumbled, a haunted look in his eyes. "The wards were useless. How can they not be? What kind of power could resist something like that? Nothing we know, that's for certain.
"Maybe they won't use those hellfire bombs on us, but imagine, Harry," the man went on, swirling another glassful of sherry. "Imagine the outcry. Centuries of us, obliviating, hiding, sometimes preying on, disregarding them. Using them. How much hate do you think they can bring to bear? More than Voldemort could withstand? He doesn't have a monopoly on it. One country will tell another, and another. Proof will be submitted. The veil between us and them will be torn away, and then what?"
With a grim smile, Glenn toasted as I threw back my sherry, ignoring its acid burn. "Dear god."
He snorted, "I doubt he or she or whatever cares. But feel free to pray."
The alcohol loosened my thoughts, something I wasn't prepared for. Sure, I had about as much experience with drink as I did girls, so color me naïve if you like. "So, this is why you wanted me."
"You will be a hero," Greengrass cheered, albeit quietly. "With power akin to Dumbledore's own behind you. The recognition of your deeds, paving ways at your feet. Even among muggles, you'll have respect and a place, if you treat Newcastle kindly, and make the proper inroads via your Peerage."
It sounded good. It soundedreallygood. "I could..."
Nodding, laughing, Greengrass nodded. "You could. What? Who knows! Does it matter? No!You. Could."
Heady. Intoxicating, in ways the alcohol wasn't. Greengrass wasn't pulling any punches here, and I was reeling. "All I have to do is beat him."
Another laugh rang out from Glenn, "All? Hardly." Standing unsteadily, the man clapped, summoning Gally. "Er. Gally?" The diminutive little horror nodded, ears making slapping sounds against her head. "More sherry. Quickly." I realized with a start we were halfway done with the other bottle. When did that happen?
We sat and waited for the return of the elf, drifting back on the currents of our conversation, "So what else will I need?" I asked, warming to the subject.
"Esteem," Greengrass replied, counting out points on fingers he squinted at. "If the wizarding world doesn't respect you, it'll be an uphill battle. They may even take you for another Dark Lord, but in the end, maybe that's for the best."
I nearly spat my sherry at that. "What? You can't be serious."
"I am," he insisted. "Think on it – Establish yourself as apro temdictator, knowing magical Britain would never follow your ideals. Ally yourself with the Crown, putting wizards at their mercy, promising an end to the madness against muggles," grinning madly, the man threw his hands – and by association, his sherry – wide, "You could even frankly just lie to the Crown, and paint the Dark Lord as the head of the insurgent faction, the one responsible for all our trespasses. Aim them at him, and sit back. The threat of the entire press of muggle Britain coming down on them would cow any rebellion, till you set up a system of government to enforce a fair and moral rule."
"Merlin," I murmured, shaking my head. I didn't know if the man was mad or inspired. "It's like... Voldemort onlybackwards." Snorting at the idea, we shared a long laugh, and I was wondering where the elf and sherry were. My glass was nearly empty.
Greengrass cleared the tears from his eyes, smiling and leaning back. "No. It won't be easy. You'll need help, and that's why I approached you. I saw potential, and I want to see how far you can go. I want to be the one to help. I want the Greengrass name to be there next to Potter when the rolls are called, and the new order begins."
Ambition in spades, I thought, whistling lowly. "So, that's why you put me with Daphne."
"She's a fine girl," Glenn sighed, his happy expression falling. "I worry about her. I worry she'll get pulled into the madness that was Voldemort's ideas." Growling, the man seemed lost in thought a moment, before throwing his glass with some force into the fireplace. "Nott and his damn contract. Stupid boy had to whine to his father over my daughter, as if she were some trophy! Pushing a contract on us... denying it would be as bad as waving Dumbledore's flag in Diagon!" Greengrass sneered at the idea, pacing about like a caged animal. "No. We sat on it. There are periods, allowances for time that are usual in these things. I will take that up to a limit, to make sure she's safe."
"What did you hope I could do?" I asked quietly, awed by the man's fervor. I'd never in my life seen this kind of devotion to family, and frankly, it was both terrible and inspiring. For someone to care and fight this hard for me... The idea simply caused me to go very still, and very warm. Was this what true family was?
"Hope," the word came out of Glenn's mouth simply, but I felt he put his entire being into those four letters. "Even... even without the bond of anything more than friendship between you, I would risk much, just for that. I've seen how you defend your friends, Harry. Was it selfish of me, to put you in such a position in the hope you would see my daughters as such?
"You have defied him. You will win. If anyone could keep them safe, it is you," he concluded softly.
Here was this man, who out of hope and a belief in me –me, the media's scapegoat, the Ministry's most hated son – risked everything. If Voldemort, the Ministry, or Dumbledore learned of what had happened or his plans if he truly did feel the way he said, any one of them could destroy him and his family. I respected Glenn Greengrass for that. That belief, in me. It at once humbled and empowered me and I felt... good. Better than good. I feltvindicated.
He was right, of course. I've proven it, for good or ill, over and over. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll keep them safe. I don't know what Daphne is to me, or me to her, but she's..." I swallowed, shrugging. Words didn't seem to want to obey me, so I didn't force them. "I'll keep them safe, Glenn."
A soft clearing of a throat startled us both, and as one we turned to see a stony-faced Daphne, Mrs. Greengrass with a slight frown and the beginnings of tears in her eyes, and an inscrutable Astoria standing at the doors to the study.
"Sees, theys is soused," the chirpy, far too pleased with itself voice rang out, from the general location of Daphne's knees. Again, Glenn and I turned our eyes as one, and in another show of solidarity, swore, "Godsforsaken elves!" at the same time.
Gally, displaying sense so far unseen by elf-kind at least to my eyes, fled with a shrill shriek and a pop.
Walking in a calm and stately way to Glenn's side, Mrs. Greengrass took his hand, and helped him to his feet. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter, that I'll be requiring my husband for the rest of the afternoon. If you will excuse us?"
I stammered an affirmation, as the two adults and Astoria left the room. Swallowing nervously, I noted Daphne closing, locking and regarding the doors silently for some time, her back to me. "I don't know what to think right now," the young woman murmured, voice barely reaching me. "My own father..." sighing, she turned and stalked to a seat to my left, closer than the large chair that her father had vacated.
Fighting down my nervousness, I cleared my throat. "How much did you hear?"
Daphne reached up and rubbed idly at her temple. "Since he began blathering on about hope the first time. Gally fetched mother, who brought 'Tori, around when he was talking about setting you up as some kind of overlord."
Hearing her put it in those terms, I had to admit, didn't seem as flattering. Unsure what else to say, or what I could say, in light of what she had heard, I simply murmured an apology.
"Don't, you... I don't know what you're sorry for."
I could think of a few things. "For... complicating your life, for one," I tilted my head, squinting a the light as it painted phantom angels in my eyes. Maybe I need to clean my glasses...
"My life was complicated before, Potter," Daphne replied testily. "Don't flatter yourself," despite the venom her words could carry however, the last three were quiet.
Reaching up to rub at my nose where my glasses rested, I hazarded, "I'm sorry for walking in on that argument, yesterday. It wasn't my business."
Daphne paled, and studiously began sorting the hem of her blouse where it lay on her lap. "That... that's alright."
"No," I asserted, "It wasn't. I shouldn't have lingered-"
"Stop," she blurted out, looking up. Whatever I was going to say died on my lips at the intensity of her look. I don't know what she was trying to say, with her eyes, but it undid whatever tightness had settled in my chest over this Montague thing, this argument I was never meant to hear. "Just... I wish you could forget hearing that, it had nothing to do with you," she muttered, cursing quietly. Standing up and pacing much like her father, she walked a well-worn path from one wall to another, pausing to pick up a book at the end. "People do things, sometimes, not because they want to, but because there's a goal beyond that must be reached."
Looking down at the book in her hands, she grimaced and simply let it fall to the floor. "Shakespear. Lovely," she sniped. Turning back to me and my bemusement at her. "Did father tell you about the contract Nott sent him?" I nodded, and she seemed to recollect herself. "What father doesn't know, is that I'm not as useless as he imagines."
"I can't see him thinking that," I shot back, remembering how he spoke of her, earning me a small smile.
"No, perhaps not," she allowed, shrugging. "But there is a lot he doesn't know. I'm quite good at memory charms, for instance," the young witch almost idly explained, causing my eyes to widen. "Oh, father isn't as subtle as he likes to believe himself to be. Our dealings with muggles have been somewhat... strained, at times. I've often had to clean up the mess."
I considered the young woman before me, recalling the almost idle ease she cast the confounding charm with. "You've been doing them for some time, haven't you?"
Smirking, Daphne nodded slowly. "Astoria... she forgives me. Now," the witch explained, and my eyes flew wide. "Yes. I tested on my own sister... and nearly broke her. Her 'natural' Occlumency talent? A reaction to all my trial and error."
"Merlin," I breathed, observing her warily. "Have you ever-"
"No," she immediately denied, shaking her head vigorously. "I've never used them on you, or my parents. I only use them when I absolutely have to. The mistakes I made with Tori weren't worth it. I won't do that again. But I am talented with mental magics. Not so much with other things," shrugging, she took her seat again, posture still somewhat stiff from her damning revelation. "Montague thinks I am his girlfriend, for instance."
My mouth worked silently for a moment, before I leaned back and laughed. Oh, it felt dirty, because I remember the potential mess Lockhart could have made of things, me and Ron specifically, but I laughed nonetheless. "So... it's an act? A cover?"
"I need my parents to believe it, so they will tell Nott of my behavior, backing up Paul and his family," she explained, an expression reminiscent of the one I recalled Narcissa Malfoy having, setting her lips in a sneer of distaste. "Father would do something drastic and damning after the deadline on Nott's contract. I plan on making them retract it before then."
Finally seeing her plan, at least seeing what she explained, I winced, and despite her frown, poured myself another drink. "But... what if Montague gets the same idea? And what about once school begins? The rumors?"
Daphne shook her head. "Paul's family is too low of station to offer a betrothal contract to me. He is, however, a decent dueler."
"Dueler? Wait." I bolted my sherry and stared at the dark-haired witch as her smile grew absolutely predatory. "You expect Nott to confront him."
"One of them will likely be... removed from the picture. Considering Nott is about as powerful magically as a Niffler," she picked at her nails idly. "Montague is no threat. But he does make a reasonable tool."
Frankly, I'm a bit stunned. "I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled," I mutter, eying my glass shrewdly, then the decanter. "And the rumors?"
With a wave, twist and snap of her wand, a pale white nimbus settled around her. "Virtue testing charm." She made a face, before rolling her eyes. "Rather, physical virtue."
"So after Montague goes telling everyone you're... involved, Nott flies off the handle and cancels the contract, challenges him, Montague offs Nott," I paused the languor of my thoughts not letting me connect things so quickly. "Then, once Montague starts putting on airs, you disclaim it all, and make him look like he's utterly mad."
Smirking, the witch sketched a slight curtsey. "You are rather quick, when you're inclined."
One thing still bothered me though, and I was frankly worried that I'd not like the answer. Still, the alcohol burning its way through my veins assured me it would be fine, and I was inclined to listen. "Why tell me though? If you can't trust your parents, then why me?"
She shot me a glare, but looked away shortly after meeting my eyes. Heaving a sigh, she picked up her father's discarded glass and downed its contents. "Because I'd rather someone know, and if I can't trustyou, who can I trust? I need my parents to believe the lie. Otherwise this all falls apart. Besides, I think you can help."
It was simple, and made sense. I had enough Occlumency that my mind would be a safe vault, and frankly, I may not like what she was doing, but I liked Daphne a lot more than Nott and Montague.
Bloody neanderthals couldn't play real Quidditch worth spit, after all.
"Alright," I agreed, a tension in my shoulders easing. "I'll keep your secret. But how can I help?"
"I never had any doubts," Daphne countered archly, a gleam in her eye. "As for helping... you can be my insurance.
"I'm not ignorant of where you two are going with things," she murmured, watching the play of amber drops race around the bottom of the crystal glass. "Father has your guardianship, correct?" I nodded, a thread of anxiety working its way up my spine. "I knew what he was planning, with you and I, when he dragged me along with him to get you.
"'Let her see how he's lived,'" she mocked in a rather convincing imitation of her father's voice. "'She's not heartless,' bah. No, I'm not, but I also havesometaste, thank you very much."
"Hey! I happen to be somewhat fanciable, you know."
Daphne raised a manicured brow. "Oh?"
I sat back with a huff. "Well, so I was told."
"It takes all kinds," the witch murmured with a roll of her eyes. "Regardless, I do happen to agree with some of my father's points."
I was pondering what this vague idea of insurance was, when she said this. "Which parts?"
Breathing out a slow sigh, Daphne drew her legs up beneath her, "For one, that Voldemort is going to push too hard. I think that almost inevitable, from what I've read regarding his first uprising. His views put him in far too much conflict with the parts of our world that contact the mundane one for it to go unnoticed."
What followed was the two of us downing the rest of a bottle of sherry, though if I were honest, it was her two glasses, to my two thirds. I recanted what Glenn and I had discussed, mostly explaining the details surrounding my inheritance. Feeling it important, I touched on my Barony in Collingwood, and how it was tied to the family seat at the Wizengamot. Then I explained the situation regarding Malfoy.
"Oh thathadto irk you. Imagine Draco in the Great Hall, thanking you for so kindly abdicating your Wizengamot seat to his father," her smirk became mocking, "Because, as we know,everythingrevolves around that boy's father."
The growl I loosed caused her to laugh musically, "I'll sell every share, put loans against every property in my name to keep that feckless little prick from touching my heritage," I snarled, noting her sudden lack of humor. Reigning in my anger, I continued, if somewhat heatedly.
I briefed her on the thoughts her father had, on how to capitalize on the war, once it was over. She seemed incredulous at how flippantly I regarded dealing with Voldemort. I was still riding the high from Greengrass' belief and faith in me though, and didn't linger on that topic.
I would win. And that was that.
"My father is a romantic. This is just the sort of... utterly unbelievable situation he would adore one of his children being in," she muttered darkly. "And I know he's serious, which just makes it more... infuriating."
With the last of the sherry halfway to my lips, I paused, "I thought you agreed with him?"
Rolling her eyes, Daphne regarded me as if looking at a particularly dim child, "I agreed with using you for your political power, to secure my family. I agree with using you as a counter to any other stupid contracts." Here she tossed back her hair, lips thinning. "Insurance. We will sign a contract of our own. We will not date, or finalize it, but it will be on record and take precedence over any others."
The glass in my hands slipped free and fell with a chiming crash to the floor. "Absolutely not."
"Oh?" Leaning forward, Daphne made a great show of proving, yes, she was quite female, if the view down the low neck of her dress was to be believed. "And why not? You did agree to help me."
"I agreed to keep your plan to myself," I spat back, wrenching my eyes up to her own, denying her that lever against me. "I didn't agree to...marryyou."
Daphne scoffed at that. "And I'm not asking," she countered, leaning back with a frown. "The contract needs only declare intent. It precludes any others, and keeps us both safe."
It was my turn to laugh, "Safe?What do I need a contract like that to protect me from? Your father doesn't seem inclined to force the issue, and if he does, I'll turn on him like a rabid dog," I snapped, standing and pacing toward the fireplace. "How quickly do you think Dumbledore would annul his efforts? I bet he could find a way," I mused, rocking back on my heels. Daphne's eyes spoke volumes of murder, at my threat. "And the Delacours? Unless I'm mistaken, they owe me more than Glenn." Smirking, I leaned back against the stone, "Gabrielle may be young, but she'll grow up in time. And you're no Veela, Miss Greengrass."
"Son of a bitch," she cursed, slamming her glass down on the table. "You think you're the only one who can make threats? I'll see your Dumbledore, and raise you a Dark Lord, Potter," rising as well, she met my incensed glare with one of her own. "I may not agree with his methods, I may hate what he stands for, but I'm not above selling you like a gaudy bauble for my family's well-being. You think we haven't considered what to do, if he did win? How far away we could run, and how deep we could hide? You'll buy us that chance."
We stood and glared at one another for a handful of seconds, before I felt the first bubble of laughter break my lips. Within a minute, we were both laughing, and I can only guess she shared my reason. Here we were, children, threatening each other with a vastly more dangerous version of "I'll tell mommy!". Maybe wewereboth serious. How far back under Dumbledore's thumb would I go, to dodge another with aims to control me? Would she really make a deal with the proverbial devil? It was just silly, for us to play that game.
I had to think so. Letting it become serious was madness. She reclaimed her glass, emptying the rest of the decanter into it before patting a spot by her on the settee. Ambling over and taking a seat, she shoved the glass into my hands, "Alright. Now that we've gotten that out of our systems," I nearly snorted brandy at her mimicry of McGonagall. This girl had some talent. Daphne sketched a slight bow, before continuing.
"What about a compromise?" Considering her earnest if somewhat nervous expression, I motioned for her to go on. "As long as I'm a lever against my father, these things will continue. Holding your regency, he'll come under more fire. Right now, were sitting on the fence – we aren't backing Dumbledore, and we aren't backing You-Know-Who. That's why these things are dangerous."
Mulling that over, I nodded hesitantly. "Turning them down out of principle shows a bias. You may be neutral, working for your own ends, but to someone outside it just looks like you're against them."
"Exactly," the witch beamed. "We're content to play merchant, and not get involved. It just so happens that unlike normal business, these people kill you for the discount."
I tried not to laugh, and failed. This earned me a pinch, which resulted in us being back in separate chairs. "Anyway," I huffed dryly, rubbing at my abused arm. "What's your compromise?"
Licking her lips, Daphne looked away for a moment. Her gaze settled on the bookshelves, and stayed there through her explanation, "Benefits. You sign the contracts, but we don't finalize them. They stay there as insurance. I get security for me and my family, and you get..." trailing off, she shrugged.
It took me a count of ten to understand what she meant. "What?! You can't be serious. You're what –fifteen?"
"Look, Potter," she snapped, dragging a haunted gaze my way, "This isn't my first choice. That would be forcing you into it with the Imperius and then obliviating you, but frankly, you proved quite well that won't work." Drawing up her knees, Daphne settled back into the crook between the back and arm of her couch. "Frankly, I don't have a lot to offer," she noted quietly. "I'm just the daughter of a pureblood family. We're commodities. Points on which to build alliances, secure political power, and assure bloodlines.
"Nott wanted me because he's a lech and has been fixated on me since my first year," she growled. "It just happens his father is an open sympathizer for You-Know-Who, and that our decision would get put under too much scrutiny."
I rubbed a hand over my face, upsetting my glasses. Putting the sherry glass down before I let it shatter too, I leaned forward and just stared at the witch across from me, thinking. I didn't put it past her to actually obliviate me after she got her part of the deal – that threat was always going to factor in between us, until I got an oath. That was an option, as well. I didn't like her allusion to her own worth though. Was that how pureblood society really saw their daughters? Despicable. Shortly, she began to fidget and glare.
"Daphne," I began, thinking back. There were also other things to consider, as well in this. "You mentioned Nott could retract the contract?" Her dark hair bobbed with her nod. "Alright. So that means I could as well?"
Biting at her lip, Daphne nodded. "If we put in that clause. Usually if we agree, but do not finalize, it would take a joint retraction. Both sides."
I decided to make her squirm. It was the least I could do, considering. "Well, you do realize that if I agree to this, your virtue charm defense would be moot."
The look of shock on her face was shortly followed by a fierce flush. That was followed by curses – literally. I was still laughing as the stuffing from my chair was being blown about the room. "Youprick!You're supposed to be noble and agree to it on principle, not... uaaagh!"
I cast a minor shield and stuck my head out, "Come on, Daphne, you mean you don't fancy me?"
I ducked back laughing again, as her growl was punctuated by two piercing curses, three inches over my head puncturing the back of my chair. Alright, best to calm this down before I get injured. "Hey! Cease fire!" I peeked out of the corner, and got a stinging hex in the face, but that was all. Rubbing at my cheek, I glared at the witch. "I'll agree to a compromise – that doesn't endanger your virtue – but I have a few conditions of my own."
The angry look on her face evaporated, replaced by look of cool calculation. "What conditions?"
"Oaths," I said bluntly. "That you'll never obliviate me without my consent, and that if I decide to terminate the contract, you will as well – without question."
She bit her lip, looking down for a moment in thought. "What's to keep you from just doing so if we get mad at each other?"
I smirked. "You, not making me mad."
"Slim chance of that," she retorted, crossing her arms. "We can't go fifteen minutes without quarreling. I want an Oath as well."
"Alright, I'll consider it, but you do realize you're the one benefiting from this?" Shaking off the haze that kept trying to cloud my thoughts from the alcohol, I nodded, "So, what Oath?"
Daphne looked conflicted a moment, before nodding apparently to herself. "Think of it like a guarantee, in what you agreed to with my father. That... ah."
"Hard thing to word? 'That I will protect you'?"
"How does one make an Oath like that?"
With a sigh, I shook my head. "It would be like a ward, Daphne. There's no way I could fulfill an Oath like that. If you fell, and I was nearby andcouldhelp you, but just didn't because I didn't think to cast this spell, or throw someone under you, then I would break it. It's too broad."
Lips thinning unhappily, she nodded, understanding. "Alright. No Oath then."
"Will a promise suffice?" She raised a brow, but I held up a hand. "I take my promises seriously. Maybe wizards depend on Oaths to make them keep their word, but I can do that on my own. If I promise to try and protect you, then I mean it. I will."
Shaking her head, a sad smile bent Daphne's lips, "But where would you draw the line? Would you defend me, over Granger? Would you stand before me, if You-Know-Who walked in that door right now, and demanded you hand me over or he'd kill one of your friends?" I saw what she meant, and could understand why she'd hesitate in relying on such a thing. What was a promise worth if it had so many things that could twist it, denature its purpose?
The only answer I could give, I did, "You'll just have to trust me."
Her incredulous look halted, and her mouth shut quietly. There were a range of emotions flickering behind her eyes, that finally settled on a grim acceptance. "Alright. I'll try. You... do have an alarming tendency to do the right thing."
I snorted at that. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
"This makes me wonder, you know," her voice was low, unsure. "My father is gambling a lot on you. Everything, in fact, on that he thinks you can defeat You-Know-Who." She stated, tone flat, eyes showing nothing. "Why? Why does he think that?"
I rose unsteadily, and moved to stand before her, cursing sherry and house elves in my mind all the while I stumbled across the deep carpets. Apparently dodging curses took less coordination than walking in a line. With a sense of deja vu, I unbuttoned my cuffs, and rolled up my sleeve. As she looked on, I bared the scar from the ritual. "This is where he took my blood. He called all his marked Death Eaters. He and I dueled, but I didn't die. His Death Eaters could not stop me from escaping with Cedric's body.
Taking my wand, I focused on the feeling of vindication that flooded me earlier. That someone believed in what I could do, for my own merits. I murmured the Patronus charm, and Prongs materialized with a faint sizzle. "When the Dementors attacked me and Sirius by the lake, I drove them off," I let her reach out, her hand passing though Prongs' side with a crackle of restrained energy. Daphne giggled, then clamped a hand over her mouth, glaring. I let me focus relax, and Prongs faded into an indistinct mist.
"This," I pointed at the basilisk fang scar, then the showed the other side of my arm, letting her see how it had pierced me clean through. "Was a basilisk fang. He left an image, an echo of himself in a cursed book, that nearly killed someone, draining their life. He could cast, he could command the beast." I met her eyes, and she flinched away. "I lived. It didn't."
Lastly, I held up my hands, before her face, though I didn't crowd her. I let her lean forward, looking at the callouses, the scars, the wrinkles between my fingers and across my palm, waiting on my next declaration. "Quirrell. He had the soul of Voldemort in him, riding him like some kind of parasite," She looked up with wide eyes, and I could practically hear her memories, of Dumbledore announcing the stuttering professor's sudden absence. "With these hands, I burned him to ash."
Whatever black muse had kept me going, fled me then in the wake of all those memories. The alcohol swirled and surged up to my head, making me dizzy and lightheaded. Feeling like my strings were cut, I slumped to the floor, an arm thrown across the seat beside her, my head resting on it as I just sat, and thought deeply of nothing.
I don't know if I blacked out for a moment, or just let that nothing inside swell up and take me for a moment. When my awareness sharpened again, there was a small, warm, delicate hand brushing my hair away from my scar. Daphne's voice was low, quiet, but she made sure I could hear her, "Killing Curse. You lived, and threw him from his body, or killed him... no one knows. You survived... he was banished."
"How do you keep on," she asked quietly, but I had no words to answer. I was weary – body, bone, soul. "Anyone else would have just... I don't know. I couldn't be this strong." I just shook my head, as if to deny her words. "You don't think you're strong?" There was the hint of a smile, in her voice after that, "Oh, I see. Stubborn. You're simply too stubborn to die, is that it?"
I snorted, and managed a single laugh, before closing my eyes again. Her hand was still doing something with my hair – I don't care what. It was comfortable, and I wasn't going anywhere. The last thing I remember hearing, before that comfortable numbness claimed me, was her whisper. "What am I going to do with you, Hero?"
–
"Nnnnngulach-" I leaned over the side of the bed, as my stomach tried to push its way out through my mouth by sheer force and determination. The hammering in my head was a sick ache, that ran from my eyes to spine and back again, bringing echoes of its own infernal tempo with it each pass. Every circuit to my head reverberated through my stomach, making it wrench and spasm.
"Oh, Merlin," I groaned, hanging my head as spit, bile, and what looked like pink foam dripped from my slack lips. "Someone A.K. me and just get it over with."
There was a tisking sound behind me that made me think of large, dry, snapping branches next to my ear. "My my, Mr. Potter, you really need to work on holding your drink."
Mrs. Greengrass, lovely woman that she was, could go jump in front of a speeding bus that moment and I don't think I'd blink. "Urgh," I replied gamely, slumping so that the ache in my shoulders would pass.
It was a vain hope.
"You should know," the woman remarked, coming around to the side of the bed I was currently hanging off of, "that normally, we don't abide guests that have such bad manners."
Any coherent reply I could have made was washed away by the unholy ache that resided in my skull, bashing around like a bludger in a bottle. Instead, I gurgled something inane, hoping the vile woman would just go away. There was a whisk of air, and the mess before me was vanished, leaving only clean, neat smelling carpet. It made my stomach churn all over again. Then the bloody wench levitated me upright. "There we are. My, you and my husband really do get along well. He's just as bad... lucky for you, my eldest is rather forgiving."
I recalled her words later. Currently, I was wondering what condition they'd pen on my death certificate, as the room's single light speared into my eyes and bored its way slowly through my skull. "Liquefied brain, leaked out of ears," seemed a fair guess.
A few more wand flicks, and my body was held rigid, and a cold sort of pressure sat against my stomach. "I have to remove the anti-nausea charm once you start swallowing. Understood?" I nodded, relishing in the momentary peace that my gut was currently in. "This is a hangover potion. It tastes..." pausing the woman gave me a wicked smile, reminiscent of Astoria. "Unique. Consider it incentive to avoid needing another dose some day."
Hangover potion. It could have been distilled Voldemort sweat and I would have happily guzzled it, as long as it banished the personal hell I was in. I almost did an about-face though, once the foul goop hit my tongue.
The charm came off, and I nearly spat what was in my mouth back into the goblet on reflex, but a supreme force of will and a hand to my own throat kept the concoction down. One swallow dulled the riot in my stomach enough to let me drink the rest, each gulp relieving some layer of torture that I was in.
By the time the foul stuff was gone, I felt moderately human again. Beaten half to death, but human. Panting lightly, I looked up with watery eyes to my hostess, "That... was from sherry?"
"A bottle of sherry, maybe more," the woman corrected, casting this and that charm at me, a rather interesting experience. By the time she was done, my slept-in clothes were cleaned if not wrinkle free, my breath was minty, my eyes clear (clearer, anyway), I smelled fresh, and my outlook on the world not quite so apocalyptic.
GoddamnI love magic.
But I'm staying the bleeding hell away from the drink, for the foreseeable future.
My mind replayed the conversation – one sided as it was – from the last few minutes back, and I frowned. "Daphne made the potion?"
With a cheery nod the witch's mother affirmed it so, "Yes, she was up early, figuring you and her father would rather not be mistaken for Inferi and incinerated by Astoria. She has a phobia for corpses."
I shook my head slowly, closing my eyes. "I... have no idea what to say to that."
"Nothing at all will do," the older witch chirped, her bubbling cheer cloying in the room like the smell of candy. I hate morning people.
I'm not precisely sure what it was that happened, after I passed out last night, but whatever it was, I was afraid. Standing with a slight wobble, I found my glasses, my wand, and the door, in that order. "Well, er. I'm just going to go say thank you to her then."
Humming as I sped off, Mrs. Greengrass waved.
Walking and clean air helped me get my mind back in gear, and as I sped down the stairs for the kitchens, I recalled the previous night. With a sense of dread, I wondered if Daphne would think me insane. "Holy shit," I muttered, banging my head into a wall. I had agreed to enter a betrothal contract with her.
On top of that, I had to wonder if Mr. Greengrass would laugh and rib me endlessly, for the preposterous things we discussed. He couldn't have been serious, could he? And then his reaction to what Daphne and I agreed on... maybe it was a hallucination.
He had his hopes – I had mine.
Did he really think I could not only beat Voldemort, but then go on to literally remake the magical world, off the momentum of such a thing?
Was he seriously trying to set me and Daphne up with one another, even if it was in a weird passive kind of way? I stopped on the bottom of the landing, brow furrowed, as I considered that.
If I were honest with myself, that did have the best chance of success. My reasons yesterday and the night before as I tried to understand my thoughts for the witch affirmed it. He gave us a chance to get to know one another, and the opportunity to grow together. I wasn't forced to love her by potion or spell, there was no trickery with contracts, and he seemed genuinely honest about being content with us being friends – or at least having a bond of some kind that would urge me to protect her, and Astoria. If we came to our own agreement in regard to a contract, it meant nothing. I made sure of that, with the Oath I'd want included. I even turned down 'benefits'. Not that she was serious, after all, but my head was in the right place.
Perhaps I should be irritable for him forcing us together to learn Occlumency, but we did help each other, and it worked to be a positive. It wasn't like I was forced to work with those that would actively sabotage me, like Pansy, or Draco. So, Daphne and I could work together, and despite arguing on occasion, I could see it becoming friendship. I did, genuinely, want to help her, after all.
I had to give Glenn some credit. The man had talent.
Reaching the kitchen, I was somewhat surprised to see Daphne, sitting with a cold plate of food before her, staring distantly out of the window that faced east. The sun was shining brightly, and it did interesting things to the blue in her eyes, leeching the tone from them and leaving almost a pale silver.
She started, jumping a bit in place as I scuffed a foot. "Oh! Damnit, Potter, stop sneaking around like a thief!"
I couldn't help myself – I started laughing. It was just such a relief that things weren't awkward between us. Yes, she had become part of my daily routine. No, I find I didn't mind that at all. Yesterday didn't change a thing that mattered. Leaning back against the kitchen wall across from her, I kept on till she was glaring, her eyes narrow and her face flush. "Good morning, Daphne," I greeted with more warmth than usual.
The witch stared, blinking at me once or twice before shaking her head slowly, "Just like my father. Least this one has reason to be touched in the head," she muttered, shooting a pointed look at my scar.
I snickered, before seeing a furtive little figure, trying not to be seen nearby. Gally the elf was doing the morning dishes, her toga looking rather more lived-in than usual today. I shushed Daphne, as I slinked over and loomed over the elf as she worked, her attention fixed on the dishes she was cleaning. I noted her shooting me little glares when she thought I wasn't looking, and crept up between them. In my best Hagrid impersonation, I boomed, "Godsforsaken elves!"
There was a muted shriek and the cracking pop of an elf fleeing, before I collapsed into snickering laughs.
My vengeance sated, I turned sharply and saluted my companion, as she rolled her eyes and murmured something about mental lions. Slipping into the chair across from Daphne, I got a stern poke in the forehead (not the scar). "No more drinking, Mr. Potter."
I chuckled, nodding quite seriously. "No worries there. I never want to wake up like that again."
Smirking, the witch waggled a fork at me. "Good. Because next time I'll take advantage of your state, strip you down, and sell the pictures to every publication in Europe," she threatened, causing me to pale.
"You'd... you wouldn't really..."
"Try me, Hero."
There was a slight, unfamiliar smile curving her lips. I rather liked it. Instead of continuing our verbal fencing, I helped myself to a plate of the cold breakfast, and sat back down beside her. Daphne shot me a look, before shaking her head. "You realize my father wasn't joking, don't you?"
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. "He wasn't?"
Nodding, Daphne turned slightly in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "He confirmed it this morning, when I took him his hangover potion."
I swallowed thickly, mind racing. After a minute where I replayed the night in its totality again, I closed my eyes. "So that's why he wanted me to learn Occlumency."
"The fact he's conspiring to commit high treason, possibly even terrorism, and wants you as an accomplice?" Daphne speared on of my sausages, daintily snipping it in half with her teeth. "I would say that's definitely reason enough, considering he plans to do at least some of the work from the inside."
Laughing quietly, I had to agree. Fine reason indeed. "Well." Picking up my glass of juice, I held it up in a toast. Daphne quirked a brow, but followed suit. "Here's to the revolution."
Snorting back a laugh, the witch beside me rolled her eyes, "Viva la Revolución!" She countered, tapping her glass to mine. "Now, get me another sausage, Hero."
My face broke into a wide smile. "Yes dear."
She sputtered. I laughed. Everything was going to be alright.