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July 20, 1996
Sunday Evening
Today marked one week since he learned who his wife to be was, and during that time, his mind had been in absolute shambles despite Andromeda's best efforts.
Pansy Parkinson, a girl who'd been a bully of his since his first year right alongside Draco, would be the girl he'd have to marry in the coming months. She was a part of the crowd that'd caused him no small amount of headaches, so bad were his thoughts of the girl that her mere mention was met with negative connotation by him and his friends when together.
And yet, he was expected to marry the girl under threat of forfeiting vast amounts of wealth — Andromeda had told him there was more at stake than that too, but he hadn't the stomach to learn of it. It wasn't like he couldn't guess one of the things she'd tell him either, he could practically see it already in the Daily Prophet once word was leaked.
'Harry Potter disrespects Pureblood, Wizarding Culture as a whole', by Rita Skeeter or one of the other 'journalists' who reported for the propaganda-like paper.
Personally, he didn't care if Pansy's lot felt slighted by him if he shunned the marriage. All that kept him from taking the hefty penalties were the thoughts of Voldemort gaining all the resources Sirius had endowed upon him. As horrible as that was, Harry rated it only slightly lower than his soon-to-be forced marriage to Pansy… he knew it wasn't anything close, but it didn't stop the comparison from being made in his mind.
Merlin, to think he'd let Andromeda talk him into a meeting with his fiance today. Nothing could get him out of the marriage, they knew that now. Not unless they'd like to forfeit a vast amount of wealth and investments that House Black had made throughout its existence. That wasn't an option. Least of all when he'd still find himself married to another member of House Parkinson lest he wanted more losses and a legal complication, Pansy's Mother might be all for that, but her father didn't seem overly against him.
Maybe the man's already excepted the circumstances we find ourselves in, Harry pondered. He didn't seem Lucius-like… Andromeda seemed to have a healthy respect for him.
Andromeda's respect for the man meant an excellent deal to Harry even if their relationship was in its infancy. If Sirius trusted her and after all the aid she'd given him; there wasn't a reason for her to guide him wrong. Dora had made a pretty good impression on him too.
Harry huffed and looked out the nearby window, to the world at large. All along the street, people moved about with conversations, smiles, and laughs, careless to the world he'd once been ignorant of. It was still so strange to him, the Magical world, and its traditions weren't any less strange. If anything, the traditions and culture were more jarring than magic was. The whole wizarding world was like a living reminder of the past, or rather, one that could have been had the whole world developed magical abilities.
Good thing that didn't happen, that.
"Harry?"
The voice came from Andromeda, and from how her voice echoed and bounced off the walls, he reckoned she'd just got home from her work. Merlin, he was horrible — he didn't know what that work was.
He smoothed his clothing to banish the myriad of wrinkles that'd formed in his mindless gazing and started off toward the staircase to reach Andromeda. There was a conversation to be had, he imagined, and with the recent events unfolding as rapidly as they'd been, he didn't want any delay in handling them. There was already more than enough drama for his liking, and still, the thought of dating Pansy Parkinson… was more than mildly disturbing. He'd never come to like her, not when his limited interactions with her were almost entirely negative.
Sure, he'd worked once or twice with her on a project when forced throughout his various classes, but by and large, the mutual dislike between them was well-established and prominent whensoever they communicated. Just because a deal signed centuries ago was finally coming to fruition, didn't mean their relationship would magically strengthen into a mutual attraction; that was something Hermione would also complain happened in romance novels written by witches.
Harry didn't read those. He much preferred reading books regarding the first Magical War or Quidditch stuff.
With a smile at the thought of a new broom soon releasing, he pushed open the door to the parlour room and sought out Andromeda. She was standing near the Floo with a small missive in her hand, and when he entered, her eyes found his. He was relieved to see there wasn't any sign of serious nervousness or stress.
"What is it?" He was straight to the point.
Andromeda held up the slip of parchment with fancily written words clearly visible. "This is a missive from Lord Parkinson, and in it, he addresses the 'numerous necessities' House Parkinson will have upon joining with House Black," she sent it to Harry with a wave of her hand and continued speaking as it made its way into his grasp. "Essentially, he desires security guarantees for his wife and himself, and the one remaining cadet branch of House Parkinson. There are also questions and thoughts about economic interests and the inheritance of House Parkinson, and most importantly, of the young Miss Pansy."
Harry cringed upon hearing Pansy's name. The lack of excitement was still exceedingly prevalent whensoever she was mentioned. Most blokes might be eager for a wife, but Harry was far from it. The thought of eventually meeting a nice witch, dating her, going through the Hogsmeade dates and Quidditch games — all of those ideas were ruined as he found himself all but forced into a marriage with Pansy.
Maybe… no, no giving Voldemort even a quarter of the power of House Black isn't something I can do. If it's Pansy or Voldemort, Pansy's the lesser of two evils. I have to do this.
"What questions? Regarding Pansy, I mean?" Harry asked as he sat down near Andromeda.
He didn't want to be standing much longer, and after a glance from Andromeda, she joined him in sitting. "He'd like to set the date of your marriage to her, as well as 'going through the motions' of courting so as to appease her mother and those in their camp. Lord Parkinson made sure to mention that House Parkinson doesn't stand alone, they have allies and companion houses that still look to them for leadership."
"So he wants me to court her?"
Andromeda nodded. "Yes."
"How do I go about doing that, then?"
And from there, a very long, tedious conversation was had. One in which Harry became enlightened to the vast, complex and strange world that was the Magical one. There was much that confounded him, a smidgen that made sense and a whole load of nonsense if he did say so himself.
A few days later
"You sure about that?" Harry asked as his hands plucked at the neckline of his robes. "We're trusting them a fair bit, aren't we?"
Andromeda raised her eyebrows and fixed him with the same look she oft gave Dora. "You've already given your word. If you retract it now, the Parkinsons will think you all the things their side says, and that would make our negotiations and dealings far more difficult than they already are," her look softened as she nodded at the Floo. "You needn't worry about any ambush either, we'll have a friend along with us."
Harry wanted to ask who, but upon receiving a second nod from Andromeda, he simply grabbed up a handful of the powder required and threw it at the ground with one utterance of; 'Parkinson Manor.'
As simple as a blink, when next he opened his eyes it wasn't to the parlour room of Grimmauld Place, but the parlour room of the Parkinson's home, a place he'd seen once before thus far. It was as grandiose and expensive-looking as he remembered, but unlike when last he'd met with the Parkinson family, there was a third person present. One that caused no small amount of anxiety to well up in him despite the foreknowledge he had of her presence.
He opened his mouth to greet the Parkinsons, but before he could do so, another person made their presence known. Andromeda's friend, he imagined, and the woman that emerged was… wholly unknown to him. She was an inch or two shorter than he was, with long, blonde hair and she looked to be of a similar age to Andromeda; he doubted he'd ever so much as seen her before in his life.
"Andromeda, Harry Potter," the woman greeted as she came over to join them, a warm smile on her face. "We've been waiting nearly ten minutes for you."
Andromeda dipped her head. "Harry and I had business dealing that extended beyond the time which we gave it, apologies," and from there, Andromeda pushed him a half-step forward as she introduced him to the woman and greeted the Parkinsons. "Harry, this is Lady Parkinson's sister, Aria Greengrass—" Andromeda pivoted to the Parkinsons "— Lord Parkinson, Lady Parkinson, Pansy, a good evening to you."
Aria grinned at Harry, a wink the likes of which Dora would occasionally send him joining that grin shortly thereafter, and then she nodded at Lady Parkinson. "Isla, let's leave Pansy and Harry to themselves and go join the others in looking at our old Hogwarts memories," the woman said as she grabbed the nearer arm of Lady Parkinson and began forcibly escorting her to the corridor.
Lady Parkinson, for her part, seemed strangely compelled to do as the other woman wished. It wasn't until he saw the look Andromeda was sending him and the words she was mouthing as she followed after them with Lord Parkinson that he understood why she'd brought the other woman along.
She was Lady Parkinson's sister. He supposed it made sense why she was so at ease and without worry.
Harry blinked as he realised what the absence of the four adults meant, and naturally, as his mind reached the conclusion necessary to continue, his eyes locked with those of the girl across from him. Pansy. Pansy Parkinson.
His official — for now — fiance… there was still the chance he made that stupid, rash decision. Which stupid, rash decision that was, he didn't entirely know, but he reckoned he could fumble his way into one.
"Alright, Pansy?"
Inwardly, he winced. That could have been asked with far more decorum, decorum which the girl opposite of him was likely expecting. It was her mum that'd been rather insisting that old traditions be enacted, but he imagined Pansy had been given a bit of a choice too.
"Fine," she answered with narrowed eyes and folded arms as she all but glared at him. "Garden, Potter?"
It almost looked like those words had pained her to say, but nevertheless, knowing what was expected of them, he nodded. "Sure."
As could be expected of two awkward teenagers that had learned they'd soon be wed, they made their way to the garden in stubborn silence. There were stolen glances, the perpetual glare that radiated like the heat of a torch from Pansy, and of course, a sizable gap was kept betwixt the two the entire time.
Until they found themselves fit snugly in the garden, at a table under the cover of a gazebo with a wall of flowers being their view — a wall of flowers with a plethora of bees buzzily flying about; there seemed to be a magic that kept them from the path and area in which people would stroll.
He quite enjoyed that.
"Lovely garden."
Pansy snorted.
"... want to talk about this?" he asked after another silence, more awkward than the last on account of the closeness and intimacy of the view.
"Not in the slightest."
And so went their first day of courting.
August 3, 1996
Sunday Morning
Everything was going exactly as Harry had expected it would, that meaning slowly, and dreadfully. Since he'd met with Pansy again over the summer, his resolve had only gotten stronger even if they got along as well as cats and dogs typically did; which was to say not all that well. Sure, there weren't any barbs traded — all that often — but all the same, there was a coldness in their joint actions regardless of where or when, and even in the company of their respective families.
He wouldn't deny that Pansy had gotten prettier since first they'd met though. People all too often spoke of Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones, and Cho Cang, to name a few, and left out those like Pansy, a girl he'd describe as traditionally pretty in a way that felt more… approachable, per se. Maybe other blokes didn't feel the same, but when a Witch was too pretty, it was a bit awkward to go near them, especially when they knew about their beauty.
"You're going to the Parkinsons tonight, aren't you?"
Harry looked up from the tome he'd been idly staring at whilst in the midst of his thoughts and saw Andromeda in the entrance to his room, her hands on her hips with a look of apprehension on her face. She was worried for him. That hadn't changed since they'd gotten truly acquainted with one another.
"Pansy's coming here tonight — she said she wants to see Grimmauld place," Harry gestured around the place, expensive-looking and historied as it was. "I think she'll like it."
Andromeda's face twitched. "One day, we'll need to restore a true and proper home like that of the Parkinsons. We've still a deed with a vast amount of land. In the meantime, I agree with you, Miss Parkinson will find this place very interesting, I'm sure."
Harry suddenly wasn't as confident as he'd felt earlier after those words from Andromeda. He thought that Grimmauld place was brilliant, and even if the furniture was a touch gaudy and the place a bit cold-feeling, it was wicked. The old tomes, silverware and general sense of quality were something he'd still not gotten used to. It was simply so different from the early portion of his life.
"Andromeda?"
"Hmm?"
"Could you tell me more of the deed while we wait for her?" he asked as he set aside the tome he'd been reading, his place marked for later resumption as his innate sense of curiosity got the better of him. "And any others, if they exist."
Andromeda smiled and extended a hand. "Escort me to your office, my lord."
Harry couldn't help but snicker at her usage of that old-timey title… even if he did feel a bit proud of hearing it come from her after all of their time studying the aforementioned title-based nonsense.
Merlin's beard.
In the hour he and Andromeda had, the two spent the majority of it, the vast majority, simply going over the various deeds they could find and of which, the conditions thereof. As it turned out, the Potter estate was, unsurprisingly, nought but the ruins of Potter Cottage and an old shack in the Scottish highlands. Neither was remotely fit for living in, and he very much doubted he'd ever do anything with Potter Cottage. The place, what happened there… no, the Black estates that now belong to him, are far more suitable for life.
At least I can make this decision.
That thought had gone through his head a good many times as he and Andromeda spoke of which land would best be suited for the eventual manor of the Black-Potter family. And in that choice, the two found themselves viewing eleven deeds. It was an absurd amount of land for one family to possess, but Andromeda had enlightened him as to why they'd controlled so much — the family had been especially large, with multiple cadet branches in addition to a strong main branch.
Each of those families had possessed their own home, and more often than not, even as cadet branches, secondary or tertiary dwellings as well. Naturally, when the family began to die off, the various properties and accounts returned to the main branch, until even they were adrift sans an owner… until Sirius had given everything to him.
The more Harry came to learn of the various holdings, decrepit as the vast majority were, he understood why Andromeda had started with everything else. This was a lot to take in, and none of the information was especially helpful at the present. Not when all of his time and resources could and should be spent elsewhere.
All the same, they did tentatively agree on a home to be had in an old patch of woods toward the Scottish border. It'd been hidden from Muggles for centuries, and as such, few people had ever walked the woods and seen the estate in its entirety. The place made for a wonderful home, on paper; security, a place for children to play and privacy were what they sought most.
"If you don't mind, I'd quite like to put together the preliminary plans for the estate," Andromeda said as the time grew near in which Pansy would appear. The woman rose from her seat, stretched, and sought out the door with so much grace he was left nodding, impressed. "Wonderful. I'll make myself scarce."
Andromeda had taken that nodding to mean she could, evidently, and Harry couldn't be bothered to stop her. If anything, she'd do a better job of managing that sort of thing than he would. From what he'd heard, a lot of Pureblood witches like her were raised knowing all the functions of household management beyond the domicile sense, and Andromeda seemed especially willful and stubborn at times, so he could imagine her degree of knowledge was all the more than others.
With her gone and that information finally pushed to the back of his mind as his heart began to beat faster, he rose from his seat to make his way to the parlour room. Pansy would soon be arriving, and he'd take care to ensure he was up to her standards upon her doing so. That meant ensuring his hair wasn't as wild as it typically was and that all of his sitting down hadn't creased his clothing all that much.
Nothing a quick few charms couldn't right, all of which Andromeda had advised him on.
Thus, in short order, he found himself standing before the Floo ready to greet Pansy, his beloved betrothed. If he repeated that enough times, eventually it'd become the truth. At least, that was what he told himself; her prettiness made it easier to believe too, so long as she wasn't scoffing, glaring or huffing.
Harry took a breath as he waited for her to arrive, his hands grasping one another behind his back. Pansy hadn't been horrible, not even half as bad as he'd thought she would be. It seemed she was handling this as well as he was, or hiding it better than he could. He supposed Andromeda could look into divorce eventually. It hadn't come up since that wasn't something to speak about whilst planning a marriage with people you barely trusted — or liked in the case of somebody specific — but maybe he could have Andromeda take a look later on.
It'd be nice. Hermione could help her too, if necessary. Oh, Merlin, he could imagine what she'd do in reaction to his newfound fiance, even if that fiance wasn't one of his choosing. She already despised the wizarding world enough as it was, and for this to happen to him, especially with a witch she disliked immensely…
Maybe it could wait a while longer. Yeah. Yeah, he supposed it could. Ro—
The Floo activated, the burst of green fire tore him from his thoughts, and in an instant, outstepped the girl whom he'd been thinking of only seconds prior; Pansy.
As she emerged from the Floo, he couldn't help but take in her appearance. His eyes went up and down her figure, dressed in a green summer dress as she was, glancing over the necklace she wore in favour of seeking out her eyes. They were of a different shade of green than his own, but no less captivating to look into.
She cleared her throat, and that broke the trance he'd seemingly been under.
"Welcome to Grimmauld Place," he said gesturing to the room at large with a smile on his face. "Fancy some tea and something light, or would you prefer a tour of the place first?"
Pansy looked around the room, her eyes darting around as she took in the various artwork, furnishings and other details therein. He wasn't the greatest at reading facial expressions, but even he could see that she was impressed on some level.
Her response only confirmed his thoughts a few seconds later. "The tour first," she said, her gaze breaking from his when she added one final word, and quietly at that. "Please."
He hadn't expected that, nor her surprising demureness upon arrival.
When the tour of Grimmauld place was finally over, and Pansy had seen just about everything there was to see within the entirety of the home, the two naturally found their way to the parlour room whence they'd started said tour. In it, there were numerous platters of various snacks, sweet and savoury, with a myriad of drinks nearby. Andromeda had impressed upon him the importance of presentation — in multiple ways — and he'd told Kreacher to go wild as a result.
Harry imagined the fact that Andromeda was present and the witch he'd be aiding was Pansy made no small difference in Kreacher actually listening to his 'orders' this time around. The old house elf was loyal if anything… but not entirely to Harry. Still, Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't a touch impressed with the work Kreacher did when he listened.
"What're we meant to do?"
He blinked at Pansy's questions, and then he nodded at the various refreshments laid out upon a few coffee tables, and the end table nearest to her. "Talk," he said. "Enjoy whatever you'd like, ask whatever you'd like. I… this is probably really strange for you too, huh?"
Pansy huffed, a short nod followed shortly thereafter as her arms folded, the tea and sweets she'd taken a momentary interest in already fleeting. "There's been nothing stranger through my entire life."
There was silence for a few seconds as the two looked at one another, and then, something he hadn't expected to happen, did. The two shared a laugh, the absurdity of the situation, perhaps, finally setting in. When that shared laughter was over, Pansy was looking at him with a far more scrutinising look on her face, though her arms remained folded as they'd previously, and often, been.
Hope I'm measuring up to whatever thoughts she's having.
"You know there's a plethora of stories regarding what you've done at Hogwarts, don't you?"
Harry should have expected that one. "I do."
She leaned forward, her arms folding in her lap as she straightened her posture. There, without a slouch or the gestures he'd associated with her previous dislike of him, she looked pretty. Very pretty; the lack of a frown or neutral expression certainly helped, her lips were only slightly raised, but it made a world of difference.
"Tell me about them?" Pansy paused, as if ready to listen, and then she spoke again with a finger raised before he could respond. "If you need secrecy or discretion, you needn't worry — I'll not ask for any details that might lead back to your friends or get you personally in trouble. Not until we're married, then, I suppose you'll have to trust me."
He nearly snorted at that, but all the same, he nodded. "First year, th—"
Harry stopped when Pansy stood up, walked around the table, and sat directly beside him, her eyes fixed on him with the utmost attention. There, that close, with the scent of flowers and that pretty smile… he forgot what he'd been about to say.
If Pansy's expression morphing into a larger, pleased smile was any indication, she'd taken notice of that too.
Merlin. Witches were dangerous.