Acknowledgment—The following is a work of fanfiction, written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers. The author thanks Ms. JK Rowling for allowing writers to set work among the population and locations found in the Harry Potter series of books. Everything belongs to Ms. Rowling and the author of this story neither seeks nor receives remuneration.
Two Daughters
Chapter Eight
A Harry and Daphne Fanfic
By
Bfd1235813
Daphne Greengrass burst from the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, bent on apparating back to the site of Potter's confrontation with the holdup man. Even as she stormed out, she had to admit to herself that Potter did defuse the encounter without a lot of fallout. Whatever fallout there was accrued wholly to the man with the gun. The fellow had the misfortune to attempt the armed holdup of a wizard who did not cooperate in the customary fashion expected of a holdup victim.
Ms. Greengrass, rising London magical lawyer, did not take the time to think through the episode from start to finish. Potter did, somehow, repel the bad man and get Lawyer Greengrass and the two Black witches out and away from the danger zone. None of Potter's protectees incurred a single scratch. The legal mind in the group, which belonged to Daphne Greengrass, was appalled at the thought that Potter might have killed the man, possibly with an overpowered spell meant only to repel or intimidate.
Potter was not given to worrying over what might have happened. A muggle with a pistol put people for whom Potter felt responsible in a state of danger. He got his daughters and Greengrass out of the immediate area and back to his well-concealed, well-warded London townhouse. That was his single priority and responsibility. Daphne Greengrass saw the man's face collapse in pain as he suffered a surprise attack of angina pectoris. People who have experienced that condition do not always die but anecdotal accounts often include the comment that, during the incident, they fervently wished to do just that.
Daphne Greengrass had ideas much different from Potter's concerning responsibility for the man's condition, summoning aid and assistance and getting him into the hands of medical practitioners. Those were motivations completely overlooked by Potter, causing Daphne Greengrass to instantly reevaluate her tentative budding romance with the wizard.
It was fortunate that Greengrass did not act on her first impulse, which was to return to the road where the Potter party was ambushed, because the muggle emergency services had arrived. After thinking for a few moments, she headed for Potter's boat, visualizing the transom, with its graphic—Bella—and homeport of Southampton. Technically, the marina did not appear on any charts of the Southampton area but those who needed to know did not need to see it on the charts.
The apparation went perfectly. Greengrass was right back on the deck of Potter's sailboat in an instant. In another instant, Greengrass was pinned, flat on her back, spread-eagled next to the cockpit, thanks to wards that guarded against intruders. She experienced something that reminded her of a time when a beautiful Alsatian gave her a once-over at the entrance gate to a manor, sniffing here and there before pronouncing her fit to proceed inside. Then the Bella's wards were done with her and she stood, jumped to the pier and walked back the way the sailing party had done just an hour or two earlier.
Well before reaching the scene of the attempted holdup, Greengrass could see the long black bag on the stretcher that the emergency personnel were loading into the ambulance. Two muggle police cars stood by, their lights flashing. A constable held a plastic bag with a pistol inside. She shuddered, thinking of the damage that pistol could have done to their unarmed party. The lawyer in her told Daphne Greengrass she had learned everything necessary and no good would come from getting any closer or attracting official attention.
That left her with the question about what she should do next. In first place would be to exit the area again. But to where? She still lived at Greengrass Manor. Most of her unmarried magical friends lived under their parents' roof. Not too long ago it was considered borderline disgraceful toward one's family for a single witch of her class to take a flat and leave herself vulnerable to all those questions about propriety. It was taken as given that an unmarried witch lacking parental chaperonage would choose to live alone only if she were carrying on, somehow.
She really wanted the company and counsel of Astoria Malfoy, but she would be with her husband and child and might not welcome a surprise visit from Daphne. Certainly not a Daphne in the midst of an existential crisis. An intermediate measure was required. Greengrass went, by apparation, to Hyde Park and began to walk.
Greengrass proceeded to the path around The Serpentine, not making a plan beyond strolling like any other visitor seeking some fresh air and solitude. Her mind was juggling contradictory thoughts. Did Potter actually KILL that muggle with mind arts? Perhaps the would-be holdup man had a weak heart. If the Potter-induced angina pectoris, or faux angina, if that was a thing, hurt enough, could the muggle have died of shock? What duties or obligations did Greengrass have? Would the muggle medical examiner identify the cause of death?
One thought kept coming back. Potter touched the thug with a fingertip. Who commits murder with a fingertip? Who gets murdered by the touch of a fingertip, for that matter? The more she thought it over, Greengrass could not find a way to pin a murder on Potter, or accessory charges on herself or the Black witches.
Greengrass didn't notice when the mist ceased being mist and gave way to rain. Only when the drops running down her face started getting in her eyes did she discover her annoyance with them. Greengrass pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of her jeans to dab at the rainwater.
Even though she was getting soaked, Greengrass continued to walk. She sorted the legalese and ethical contradictions and was left with anger. It was still infuriating that Harry Potter had taken her and the Black witches sailing, and to a fish-and-chips lunch, then spoiled everything by handling a stickup himself rather than—what? What did she expect him to do?
Potter was unarmed, in the muggle sense. They were concerned with the muggle with the gun so she considered certain aspects of the incident in light of muggle standards. The muggle probably chose the little party because they looked like soft targets. Both she and Potter knew that a witch and wizard had a basket of possible responses of which the man would be ignorant. Something about turning the tables on him bumped up against Daphne's sense of fairness.
Wiping her face with her handkerchief, Greengrass left the park and ambled, vaguely, toward Islington.
"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," she mused.
The squish-squish-squish of her shoes intruded on her thinking.
'Damn I hate walking in soaking-wet shoes,' she thought.
Greengrass didn't notice when the feeling of gratitude arrived. Walking along, reveling in her indignation, gave her space for some reflection. She did owe Potter, she silently admitted. All they meant to do was to cross to an apparation point. They'd done nothing to provoke the delinquent except transit a bit of un-magical ground. The jerk waved a pistol around and thought he'd compelled compliance. Potter informed him, via a practical, non-violent demonstration, that he was mistaken. It was too bad the man was hauled away on a gurney but perhaps all Potter did was illustrate there are often unintended results stemming from unnecessary gun-brandishing.
Somewhere along her course, Daphne Greengrass began to cry. The sequence of events was fresh in her mind. Their little boating party finished up with fish and chips at the pub near the magical yacht harbor. It was a lovely day, outdoors, two very bright young witches for company. Then the attempted holdup. The gun and the implied threat to use it. Greengrass experienced terror, panic and a sense of helpless desperation. She felt the sensations she felt at the Battle of Hogwarts. Potter sorted it all out, with no unnecessary violence. The Black witches took the entire episode in stride.
What was she thinking? Potter's childhood experiences, or what she knew of them, ought to have programmed him to splatter the muggle's blood and guts all over the public right-of-way. He had avoided all of that, and the subordinate complications, getting her and his witches out of the tight spot without doing any damage.
Of course, that meant not counting the apparent collapse of the perpetrator. To be fair, if Potter's mere suggestion, via an illusion, that the fellow had some chest pains in the middle of his act of violence was sufficient to bring on a fatal attack, it followed that he didn't have the necessary, hardy constitution to be a professional criminal.
Now she was soaking wet, walking London streets, coming down from an emotional hurricane. She hated to cry over anything but actual, physical injury. As a pureblood Slytherin lawyer-witch, her social class and personal code held her to a higher standard. She was expected to control her emotions, not the other way around.
'Dammit! One minor threat from an armed muggle holdup man and I treat it like I was at his mercy and forced to beg for my life when Harry Potter was right there all along, happy to protect me and the little witches,' thought Daphne.
Walking the concrete in her squishy shoes, soaked to the skin, Daphne's thinking evolved. Potter provided a free consultation for a citizen who was a mismatch for his job. It was clarification. Somewhere on those blocks, Greengrass produced a clarification of her own.
'Those are the steps,' she thought. 'That is the door. To thank him, I must climb those. I must knock.'
Of course, Greengrass did not need to knock because Potter had a professional house elf living with him. Kreacher knew just when he had to be present to open the front door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
"Welcome back, Mistress Daphne," said Kreacher as he bowed low. "Let me call Lord Harry. You must come in out of that rain."
"Harry," she said when Potter emerged into the hallway.
"Daphne, where have you been? Why are you out walking in this rain? Kreacher, get us some hot chocolate. Bring it back to the second drawing room, if you please," said Potter.
He exercised his judgment and opened up an arm to make space for Greengrass to walk alongside. She accepted, stepping close. He wasn't surprised to find his lawyer was trembling as they walked back down the hall.
"First things first," said Potter.
He stepped back from Greengrass and cast a drying charm, sweeping down from the top of her head to her feet. He remembered from some earlier experience that drying charms could leave shoes damp instead of dry.
"Shoes. Off," he ordered and Greengrass slid out of her shoes.
Potter conjured a fleecy blanket, upon which he cast a handy warming charm. He swirled the blanket and let it fall over her shoulders. He noticed continued trembling and called out to Kreacher to make haste with the hot chocolate.
Potter guessed Greengrass experienced mental turmoil, considering her departure, then return after some hours. In the meantime it had begun to rain and her physical state indicated she had been walking London streets, wrestling with her conflicts. It was Potter's own such experience that provided the necessary insight.
Easing Daphne down on the settee, Potter took delivery of the hot chocolate.
"Thank-you, Kreacher," he said, holding the cup for his guest.
"Mmm…Yes, thank-you," she said as she took a sip.
"Careful," said Potter, "How about another warming charm?"
Greengrass nodded, then held still while Potter cast. The trembling abated and, finally, stopped. Greengrass pursed her lips, then exhaled.
"Better," she said. "Much. Now, just sit there. I have to do something."
Potter thought she needed the powder room and was about to show her the one off the central hall when Greengrass stood and let the blanket fall from her shoulders. Stepping back from the settee, she faced Potter, lowered her eyes and knelt.
Potter didn't know what to think. His lawyer had always intimidated him. She sat with him and his friend and ally, Longbottom, in the Wizengamot library. A natural in the space, the Heiress of Greengrass, not yet a member, exuded a poised air of belonging right there. Potter feared he would always feel like an interloper, on a field trip, watching his betters make law and decide weighty matters.
Greengrass was at home in chambers as well. She sat behind her desk, enlightening Potter about this or that, putting his concerns with the details of pureblood fatherhood in context, giving him unexpected access to things like Delphi's place in the Book of Acceptance. He remembered musing, after one meeting, that he was beyond grateful to have retained Greengrass for the Potter-Blacks because that meant his side would not have to face her in any future dispute. What was she doing, now, kneeling before him on his drawing room floor?
Daphne Greengrass, her eyes still weepy, spoke up and let him know.
"Lord Harry, I doubted you. I was wrong. I beg your forgiveness."
Potter looked down in confusion. What was this witch talking about? Why wouldn't she look at him?
"Oh, Daphne…" he began, traces of woe and frustration coming through.
"Lord Harry…"
"Heiress Greengrass?" he tried.
"You placed your body between the Heiress Greengrass and a violent criminal. You may have preserved the Greengrass Line of Succession, along with saving my life. It's possible I may owe you a Life Debt. It is my duty to thank you. I must give my obeisance. With your permission?"
Potter guessed it was another one of those pureblood things. Somewhere, Bella was watching, and understood. Potter knew this because he heard her, clear as a bell.
'Give it! Just sit still.'
"Of course, Heiress,"
Greengrass came forward, walking on her knees. She bent at the waist and lowered her face to his slipper-clad feet. Her arms circled Potter's lower legs, level with her head.
'Tell her you accept!' said Bella's voice. 'Don't laugh! You could kill her if you laugh. Kneel down and take her hands between yours. Yes, like a sandwich you heathen! Do it!'
Potter complied, as ordered. Bending down, he held out his hands, spread apart to accept Daphne's. She waited until he was in place before speaking. Then she put her own hands together for Potter to clasp with his.
"Lord Potter-Black, you have done a great service to the House of Greengrass. In return, I, as Heiress Greengrass, offer my fealty to Your Lordship for all of my natural life," said Daphne.
She had begun trembling again. A single tear showed on each cheek. Potter felt the magic tingling all over his body. He assumed Greengrass was vibrating, emotionally, from the magic.
"Heiress Greengrass, I accept your offer, with extreme humility, and vow that I and my House will honor and respect yourself and your House from this moment forward."
A thunderclap sounded, rattling the frames hung here and there about the room. Potter glanced over at the enchanted tapestry. He was surprised, while not actually being all THAT surprised, to notice a glow and some subtle animation among the embroidered figures that represented the Blacks, their spouses and progeny. He wondered, briefly, what that meant. Then things, mysterious, magical things began to happen.
Daphne stiffened, arching her back and twisting just enough to fall against Potter. Magic welled up in him, his chest filled near to bursting while his arms came up by themselves to surround Daphne and keep her upright. The only disturbing element was the voice coming from the doorway.
"Da-da! What have you done to Daphne?"
Potter looked away from Daphne's face to take in the speaker, who stood, along with her sister, on the threshold. Ane had given up 'Da-da' some time ago so Potter sensed the reversion meant his daughter was under real stress. Several thoughts flashed through Potter's mind.
HAD he done something to Daphne? If he had, would the Black witches ever forgive him? What did those looks they were giving him mean? Why was he seeing everything through a gold-toned fog?
'Don't be an idiot,' said Bella's voice. 'You're caught up in some serious magic. You haven't studied this stuff and your parents weren't around to explain. Decide right now you're going to catch up on your reading. The answers ought to be here in this house. Now, bring your little witches over so Greengrass can give her allegiance to them. She learned about this as a girl. She'll know what to do. Keep holding her up so she doesn't collapse. Oh, and try not to interrupt.'
"Black witches," said Potter.
Keeping his right arm around Daphne's back, he put his left hand beneath her left elbow. Bella was right, Greengrass spoke to Delphi first. She did seem to know exactly what came next.
"I gave allegiance to Lord Harry, for his gallantry and services to me and the House of Greengrass. Will you accept the same?"
She held out her clasped hands. Delphi put her hands over top.
"I accept," she said as another, gentler spasm passed through Daphne.
Greengrass brought all the hands close, then kissed Delphi's. Ane replaced Delphi and accepted. The Greengrass Heir kept it simple, kissing Ane's hands, which were clasping her own. Greengrass smiled and relaxed against Potter.
"Two more cups of hot chocolate, Kreacher, for the witches," said Potter.
Some sounds of china and silverware came up the kitchen stairs.
"Here," said Potter as he untangled himself from his lawyer. "Couch? I'll help you up."
When Greengrass was back on the settee, stable once again, she motioned to the Black witches who took the spaces to her left and right.
"Harry?" she asked.
"Need to look at something," he answered.
It was as he suspected. The Black family tapestry showed a new relationship. Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were connected by a thin, broken line sewn in silver thread.
While Potter was inspecting the enchanted tapestry, his guest and the Black witches settled in with their hot chocolate. None of the three needed to make conversation. Instead, they leaned into one another, sipping the chocolate, feeling the ebb and flow of the magic that now infused the entire room.
When Potter spoke, he was very brief.
"Daphne?"
"Harry?"
"What did that mean?"
"Oh, I just thanked you. For protecting us with your magical quick thinking," said Daphne.
"I know it was more than that," he said. "Something tells me you know what that is."
She sat, an arm around each Black witch.
"Does it? Very perceptive," said Daphne. "That's a plus."
She smiled at Delphi, then Ane. The Black witches smiled back and snuggled closer.
She declined to elaborate. Potter noticed the cups were empty. He cast a tempus charm and was pleasantly surprised to see it was still quite early.
"Are you on a schedule?" Potter asked. "The witches are here, now, so it might be beneficial to keep them going until they are really, really ready to go to sleep. For the night, that is."
"No, no schedule this evening," Daphne concluded.
She untangled her arms from the two witches, stretching them straight up as she gave him a smile. The Black witches weren't done with Daphne Greengrass and took the opening as an invitation to burrow in closer.
"They had sandwiches before they went upstairs," said Potter. "Do you need anything to eat?"
Greengrass smiled.
'Merlin, she is beautiful. Everything about her…' thought Potter.
"Can Kreacher do a grilled cheese sandwich?" she asked. "American, on whole wheat."
"Kreacher?" he called.
Greengrass pronounced the grilled cheese, which was accompanied by a serving of French fries, 'perfect.' The witches didn't return upstairs, staying with their newly-acquired faithful servant and/or lawyer. This earned them half of the grilled cheese, to share, in addition to all-you-can eat French fries. Potter was not very talkative, back in front of the Black family tree tapestry, returned to his pondering. A period of silence ensued. Ane was close to one side of Daphne. She looked, once again, like she was ready for sleep. Delphi wasn't quite so close. She still had some hot chocolate. Potter felt like, if he had just a little more sensitivity to nearby magic, he would be able to hear the gears in Delphi's brain turning. Her eyes said the machinery was hard at work.
"Can I suggest a cup of something warm, if you can take a little more? Perhaps a soak in the tub? I'm worried about that chill. You really were shaking," said Potter. "We offer privacy, unlimited towels and plenty of hot water."
"Let me think," said Greengrass, then, almost immediately, "Yes, that sounds good."
"Cheek," said Potter. "Kreacher?"
"Master?"
"Kreacher, can I summon Holly? Will she suffer any ill effects from coming from Potter Manor?" asked Potter.
"No, master, Kreacher does not believe Holly will be harmed. She is not an aggressive elf," said Potter's retainer.
Potter did summon Holly, who experienced no ill effects. He assigned her to attend to his guest's needs until she was finished getting the chill out of her bones. Kreacher showed the two upstairs to the large guest room and its en suite. Holly was thrilled to be pressed into service as bath attendant for Master Harry's guest.
When Greengrass had disappeared upstairs with Holly, Delphi tried to pin Potter down.
"Are you going to date?" she asked.
"I might invite her to go sailing again," Potter said.
"We can stay at Auntie Andromeda's, I'll bet," Delphi said. "Then, you two can be alone."
"Betting isn't necessary," said Potter. "If Miss Greengrass wishes to see us again, she will let us know. After I ask her. Which I will do at some point when you aren't right there."
"Harry!"
Delphi drew it out, shamelessly milking the drama.
"What?" Potter asked. "We are now beginning to get into a difficult area. Human feelings. Affection. Did you remember what I said about scaring a witch by being too pushy? If you want a witch to decide we three are a good match for her, she has to come to that conclusion herself."
"Oh, Harry, do you think Daphne hasn't decided?" asked Delphi.
"Before I could express an opinion, it would be best if I knew the answer to that," Potter replied. "Ane—are you tired enough to go up and sleep all night?"
Ane answered by standing up and heading for the stairs, trailing the blanket Potter had conjured.
When Potter heard Ane's bedroom door creak, he turned back to Delphi.
"Look," he said.
Delphi noticed he was keeping his voice low. She leaned closer.
"Daphne Greengrass is not simply a good-looking witch. She has distinguished witches and wizards all over her family tree. She is descended from really well-born people. Besides that, she is a lawyer. That isn't just any old job. She is what is called a professional. That is on a level with healers. Understand? Good family plus her personal accomplishments makes her very desirable. Lots of unmarried wizards could be interested in her so we will be cautious."
"They won't be competition for you," Delphi advised him.
"Says who?" asked Potter.
"Scorpius and Teddy," said Delphi. "We were talking at Auntie Andromeda's that day and they both said you can have your pick."
"Of what?"
"Witches," Delphi answered.
She appeared to be getting frustrated with Potter and his annoying density.
The creaky floorboard might have saved Potter from a scolding. The two stood and walked to the foot of the stairs just as Daphne Greengrass was coming down.
"Better?" asked Potter.
"Lots," answered Greengrass. "Sorry for all the emotional display."
Potter gave her a look. Greengrass looked back. She tilted her head, a little grin on her face.
"Sorry for getting you upset," said Potter. "Things happen."
He shrugged.
"Don't they?" asked Greengrass. "Well, I had better be getting back to the Manor. Can I use the floo?"
"Of course," said Potter, who had been wondering how he would accompany Greengrass home when he had one young witch upstairs, asleep, and another who wanted to debate the pros and cons of Potter's approach to dating.
The problem of transport became no problem at all with a single floo call. Astoria Malfoy was at Greengrass Manor right then, her husband and son in tow. The Malfoys had spent a few weekend hours with Astoria's parents. Potter did not need to accompany Greengrass home via the floo. Astoria would stay where she was and anything other than a safe landing would be reported instantly.
"Bye," said Daphne.
"Bye," Potter replied as he leaned toward his lawyer.
"Mmm…" the two murmured as their lips met.
"Soon?" asked Potter.
Daphne Greengrass smiled.
"Yes, please," she said as she stepped into the floo.
That Monday, an owl arrived at Number Twelve as Potter was sipping his second cup of coffee.
"Lunch?" said the owl's parchment.
"Sure, where?" was Potter's reply.
"LC. Noon. I have 30 minutes."
Potter thought his lawyer showed superb organization with the efficient communication. He speculated it was something they learned during their apprenticeship.
Potter was unclear on one thing. Greengrass did not say where they should meet, i.e., whether she wished to get together at her office and proceed from there or if she expected they would each go to the pub on their own.
Potter selected a decent wizard's robe. He arranged, via floo, for the witches to go to Andromeda Tonks' for lunch, then he went straight to the law firm's chambers. He arrived exactly at 11:55, thinking five minutes ought not to make him look anxious.
"Well, Lord Potter-Black, what a pleasant surprise," said Greengrass when she appeared in her firm's reception area.
"Heiress Greengrass," said Potter, rising and extending a hand.
Greengrass let her own hand alight on Potter's, lying there awaiting the kiss he quickly bestowed.
"Floo?" asked Potter.
"Just there," answered Greengrass.
The Leaky Cauldron, at lunch, was well-populated, the pub-murmur something like a permanent growl. Hannah Abbott's pub-elves bustled here and there in their spotless white aprons.
"Tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwich."
Potter's order sounded quite tasty so Greengrass nodded to the elf.
"Same."
"So?" Potter opened.
"How are you, my lord?" asked Greengrass.
"Well," said Potter. "Awaiting your dispensation of enlightenment."
"Before we get to that, when can you come to the house?" Greengrass asked. "My parents…"
Running out of words, she waved a hand, as if Potter would get her meaning so that actually finishing her sentence would become irrelevant.
"Yes?" Potter asked, then, "Go on, please."
Greengrass stared into his eyes. Potter got the impression she expected he would fill in the missing words.
"Is this embarrassing? I'm missing some essential information," said Potter. "If you don't want to talk about it in here…"
The soup and sandwiches arrived. They ordered butterbeers. Greengrass dipped her spoon in her bowl and began to stir.
"No, this is fine," said Greengrass.
She raised her head and stared into Potter's eyes, her gaze so intense he felt pressure.
"When I thanked you and swore fealty, you accepted," Greengrass began.
Potter smiled at the memory.
"I did. I was honored," he said.
They exchanged smiles. Potter reached toward his lawyer and let his fingertips graze the back of her hand.
"Then the witches and you summoned your mother's elf…What? We had a talk, okay? What's a witch to do when you've gotten her undressed and trapped in a hot tub with an elf scrubbing her back?" said Greengrass, imparting too much information, in Potter's opinion.
"We need to do this more often," he said, smiling.
"Harry, this is serious," cautioned Greengrass. "Now, I'm passing on some background, if you want to listen."
"Listening" Potter assured her.
"Good. First, I apologize for the format. We did some things backwards so there is an element of repair," said Greengrass. "You defused a situation. That was a very, very wizard-like solution, by the way. I was in a state, from the time I left Grimmauld Place until I was back home. Walking in the rain, welcomed back by you and Kreacher, demonstrating gratitude, cuddling with the young Honorables, receiving the attentions of your mother's lady's maid elf, were all evoking magical ripples. I woke up this morning with a purpose. It is time I put some cards on the table."
"I was fourteen when Lord Greengrass and Lord Selwyn agreed to betroth their pureblood offspring. Laurent Selwyn was four years older than me," Greengrass went on. "Yes, quite an age difference, for someone fourteen. Well, that's how the purebloods have carried on, for centuries."
Potter wasn't ready to proceed.
"Just to clarify, Selwyn was eighteen and you were fourteen? Doesn't that sound a bit, ahh…much?" he asked.
"Yeah, one wonders. Why would an adult wizard want anything to do with a flat-chested witch? The old ways. Muggles were doing the same thing. Read some of the histories of the old muggle nobility. Makes me want to puke. We were raised to expect it so it wasn't a great shock to me. Anyway, I was betrothed and my wizard died in the fighting. Game over for Daphne and Laurent."
"Oh, I am so sorry!" said Potter. "That is heart-breaking!"
"Maybe I wouldn't go quite so far," said Greengrass. "We didn't really know one another. Marriage and setting up housekeeping was all in the future. We were at some family events now and then. The Greengrass Yule reception, a Selwyn open house on Beltane. We were closely chaperoned, otherwise the malicious gossips, you know?"
"Merlin, why can't people keep their nose on their own business?" asked Potter.
"Well, short version," Greengrass said, with a shrug. "I was betrothed, my betrothed was killed in the war, so I went for my mastery. After all, now something close to being a widow, I might be damaged goods and have to make my own way."
"Bloody…Anyway, that really sucks, Daphne," said Potter. "I suppose you have a right to some answers, about me. We weren't so genteel."
Greengrass was about to ingest a spoonful of tomato soup but managed to return everything to her bowl before disaster struck.
"You know a few things. I ended up spending about five years with her. We couldn't marry because, technically, her marriage had never been dissolved. But we were both free and we had a sailboat capable of transiting oceans and stars, wind, sunshine and our bodies to explore. Which we did. Lots. We were a witch and a wizard in their own world. You may think this next makes me a real shit. I never asked if she was doing something about birth control. She was older, a witch who without doubt knew all about that stuff. When she told me about Ane I could not have been more surprised. We were both ecstatic. Then, afterwards, she told me about the condition her healer discovered."
Potter stopped talking. Instead, he just stared into the space between Greengrass and himself. At some point she placed her hand atop his.
"We stayed in Trinidad quite a while. Ane could walk between us when she decided we needed to get back on the boat. I begged, literally, but she would not hear of settling, even if it would make getting treatment easier. She was afraid Ane would fit someone's idea of a neglected child and that would lead to authorities and social workers poking their noses in. She finally told me about Delphi."
"OH!" gasped Greengrass. "That's how you learned? Oh, Harry, that's so sad!"
"I know. How odd. But it all worked out! Thank Merlin Sirius left me the townhouse. We're all together, the witches are working on their prep courses, all we need is, ah, someone…" he said.
"Are you recruiting?" Greengrass asked, with a smirk.
Potter looked at the table. They had done quite a job on their soup and sandwiches. Perhaps it was time to leave and give the Leaky Cauldron the space.
"Let me," he muttered, reaching into his pocket.
They took the door to Diagon Alley. Once on the street, Potter thought of something, a detail that needed clarification.
"Got time for a walk?"
"I moved a few things around," answered Greengrass.
"For me? Really?"
"Yes, Lord Harry, I did. For you."
"Is this because of that swearing obeisance business?" asked Potter.
"It IS my duty to accommodate, now," answered Greengrass.
"Oh, Merlin," muttered Potter, who had a flash vision of entering the Wizengamot library and pausing for Lady Greengrass to kneel before him, which ought to make him a fine laughingstock before his fellow magicals.
"Mainly, I wanted sufficient time for us to have this conversation. All of it. My goal is to have all of your questions, as well as mine, answered satisfactorily," said Greengrass.
"Do we have very long to go?" asked Potter.
"Depends," Greengrass answered.
"Then let's…" said Potter as he took his lawyer's arm and walked toward an apparation point.
"Unghh…" groaned Greengrass as she stood up straight. "Ahh…glad that's done. Where?"
"Potter Manor," said Potter. "We can give the elves some work and have a private conversation."
Willow met them at the door, bubbling over the arrival of Master Harry and his friend.
Potter made a decision as they stepped inside the foyer.
"Willow, please bring the elves," he said. "We might as well do all of the introductions now."
Potter led the way from the foyer to a larger room off the central hallway. He stepped aside to let Daphne enter. Once inside, they both paused as something invisible caused gentle sensations all over their bodies. It lasted seconds and put both in very good moods as the elves arrived.
Greengrass already knew Holly, of course, so the lady's maid took a liberty and kissed Master Harry's friend's hand. Willow introduced the elves to Daphne just as she had to Potter and the Black witches.
"Coffee okay? We should be able to do anything within reason," said Potter.
"Coffee is fine," said Greengrass. "Where do I sit?"
"Anywhere," said Potter. "This is where the big receptions take place, I was told. I don't know if my parents lived long enough to throw any. So, do you have follow-up questions? Feel free. I'm aware my life hasn't been very conventional."
Greengrass laughed at that, a loud barking 'HA!'
"Okay, two daughters. How did that happen?" she asked.
"Delphi was thought to be with Voldemort," Potter began. "Bella never said anything about the mechanics. She didn't know I'd seen him, exposed, that night when Pettigrew did the resurrection ritual. That, uh, thing, that Pettigrew was carrying around went into the cauldron. When it stood up as Voldemort, it was naked. I was looking right at it when it stood up and, well, the repaired, revitalized Voldemort did not have a thing. If you know what I mean."
"Then, Bella asked me to look in on Delphi, so after Ane and I got back, I found out where Mrs. Rowle lived. I contacted her, went to her house. She brought Delphi in. When I saw her, I thought she looked familiar, a lot like Ane. That could have been two witches, different fathers, same mother. The goblins' inheritance ritual got that sorted."
"Merlin, I'd say so," agreed Greengrass. "Okay, your turn. Anything you want to know?"
"Actually, I did wonder, do the Selwyn's have any claims on you? Or do they think they do?" asked Potter.
"Not according to OUR family lawyer," said Greengrass. "Laurent getting killed canceled the betrothal. Sometimes, in similar cases, families would agree to substitute a living relative for the deceased. The Selwyn's don't have any eligible bachelors close enough in age, so…"
"That's that?" asked Potter.
"That's that, at least as far as I know," said Greengrass.
"Who's next?" asked Potter.
"I've lost track," she replied. "Why don't you go?"
"So there aren't any claims on you, since Selwyn?" Potter asked.
"Ahh…well, one of the old traditions—"
Potter listened, astonished, angry, ready, eventually, to draw a wand on someone.
"So a witch with a profession that brings in galleons sufficient to support herself is still property of her father?" he demanded.
"According to some beliefs about some really old customs, yes," said Greengrass.
"Willow, a fresh pot of tea, please," said Potter.
The elf popped in, removed the tea things, popped out, then was back with clean china and a fresh pot.
"Love the way they do that," Potter muttered as he poured Daphne's tea. "This has gone really well, for me."
"And me," Greengrass agreed.
"Right, so, IF I wanted to court you, properly, would I have to meet with Cyrus?" Potter asked.
"Well, if we were teens, I guess," said Greengrass. "Or if I was one of those witches whose parents kept her on a shelf, wrapped up in tissue paper. That always seemed a bit deranged, to me."
"Really? I mean no offense but I'm very glad you're not wrapped up like that. You're a lawyer with some knowledge of the world," said Potter.
"You noticed!" said Greengrass. "Between ourselves, I'm glad, too. With due respect to my late betrothed, I don't think I would have liked life with Laurent Selwyn all that much. Even if a future as a pureblood matriarch awaited me."
Potter studied Greengrass over his teacup. She was deep. He wondered how deep? He, Teddy, and the witches were a complicated mix. Potter worked with Andromeda and Narcissa to keep a very low profile. He saw no need to risk getting the treatment from the gossips and tabloids. Marrying a prominent magical lawyer had the potential to attract attention.
"There won't be a better time than now to ask this, so here goes: Did you ever see yourself as a stepmother?" asked Potter.
"No," said Greengrass. "I don't recall that being a life goal, nor do I recall any of my friends seeking such a situation."
"Oh," Potter began, before Daphne interrupted him.
"Although, I might not be averse, with the right prospective husband and the right step-children."
"Ohhh? Would you support me if I wished to call on your father and declare my intentions?" asked Potter.
"Perhaps I could hear what those are first?" Greengrass suggested.
"Why, to court you properly, get betrothed if that is what you want, then engaged, then married," said Potter. "Did I get the sequence right?"
"Close enough," Greengrass said. "That's what you really want?"
"It is," Potter answered.
"May I ask why? A relationship with me wouldn't be anything like your last adventure," Greengrass asked.
"There won't be another one of those," said Potter. "The conditions aren't right. If Bella hadn't shown up in the woods when I was seventeen, we wouldn't have talked. I wouldn't have testified. She'd probably have been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. I planted the idea of getting out, which wouldn't have happened. None of those will come again."
Greengrass sipped tea, looking around at the portraits.
"You know, I was prepared to do my duty, as a good pureblood witch does, accepting the husband my parents found, training to be the next Lady Selwyn. I made my peace with it. Then when Laurent was killed I had this feeling of relief, that, at least I wouldn't have to live in one of these pureblood piles. Parkinson said her parents' place was, "Where good taste goes to die."
"Oh, we don't have to keep the old, traditional places. It might make sense to sell the two manors and build one new one," said Potter.
"I don't know," said Greengrass.
She sipped some tea, swallowed and looked Potter in the eye.
"Let's not do anything rash."
"So it's agreed?" asked Potter. "We'll see your parents, ask their blessing, get betrothed?"
"Sure, if that's what you want," answered Greengrass. "Maybe we could skip the betrothal. That is generally more for the fourteen-year-old witches, like I used to be. Like the young cattle getting their brand."
Potter flinched.
"Merlin! You were…Delphi! Damn!"
"Aha! Did you just experience a dramatic shift in perspective, my lord?" asked Greengrass. "Yes, I wasn't that much older than Delphi."
Potter stared at her. She did look different. Shift in perspective? Would that bring about greater definition in his lawyer's pretty face? She was, pretty that is. His own daughters had mentioned it. Now there was something new, something he had not noticed before. Her face wasn't the soft, yielding, comfortable, school-girlish face he'd gotten to know. Everything was in place, as always, but the cheekbones were sculpted, the chin jutted a bit and the eyes—he didn't know what to think of those eyes. Daphne Greengrass, knowingly or unknowingly, was a raptor.
"We can work together," Potter declared.
His lawyer smirked.
"Holly?" Greengrass called out.
The lady's maid popped into the salon.
"Mistress Daphne called?" she asked.
"I need a visit to the loo, Holly," said Greengrass. "Can you direct me?"
The elf looked at Potter.
"Upstairs, that big guest room on the second floor hall," he said. "Let us know if there is anything you want to add. The consumables are basic, so…"
The elf and the lawyer joined hands and popped away.
Potter looked at his remaining tea, which filled less than half of his cup. The tea went down in one satisfying gulp. Potter's thoughts turned to the things-to-do list that came out of the last thirty minutes of conversation.
Daphne didn't feel the need of a betrothal so they would skip that and negotiate their engagement. He wondered what Cyrus would see as fair recompense for blessing their courtship and eventual marriage? Potter was sure Cyrus had something in mind. He hoped Daphne's father could keep it simple. Ten thousand galleons from the Potters ought to smooth a lot of feathers. Between Potter and Daphne Greengrass they would not have to count every knut. He expected they would agree on an amount that Potter would invest in Daphne's name, letting the earnings compound. Wizards lived to one hundred, one hundred fifty, a few made it to two hundred years. Barring Potter's early demise, his gesture should guarantee his future wife a secure old age.
They would have to discuss housing. Potter nearly had an embarrassment of homes. The townhouse he inherited from Sirius Black would have been sufficient by itself, not even considering the sailboat standing ready for anything from a day sail to a Trans-Atlantic trip. Then there were the Black and Potter manors with their magic and their elves. He would sell one except that he knew the next generation would be needing housing when the time came. It was even more true for Potter who had designated Teddy Lupin the next Lord Black and Delphini Black the Heir of Potter.
Potter lost track of time with all of his musing. Daphne returned, the sound and motion startling him, rousing him from his most pleasurable reveries.
"Oh! There you are," he said, giving his wristwatch a reflexive glance. Perhaps her lips puckered, just slightly. If she was displeased, Daphne held her tongue.
"All satisfactory?"
"Holly will advise you on some things to pick up," said Greengrass. "Properly-equipped guest quarters, you understand. You will want to make a good first impression."
"For you, of course," he quipped.
Greengrass didn't see it as funny.
"Harry Potter, don't think I will take kindly to sloughing off on the hospitality. You are the Black and the Potter. Most wizards don't get one House to run and you have two. Considering your age, you could just be getting started. You have two young witches to shape. It is not too early for Delphi and Teddy to get to know something about their heritage. Astoria and Narcissa are giving Scorpius little nudges in the right direction."
"I thought Hogwarts…" Potter began.
Daphne did not cut him off. Instead, she nodded in agreement. Potter cut off his sentence.
"Did you come to Hogwarts aware of the expectations people had for you?" asked Daphne.
"No," Potter admitted. "I was a bit rough."
"I remember," said Daphne. "Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger. Seamus Finnegan. All a bit rough. Leaving Draco, Crabbe and Goyle out of consideration, what did you think of us Slytherins?"
"Bunch of pompous, entitled…"
"Stop right there," said Greengrass. "What do you expect for your daughters? The Black witches?"
"They'll be different," said Potter.
"Different. Yes, Delphi and Ane will come from a Universe different from the one you inhabited. By an order of magnitude. And they will be entitled, literally, and that is thanks to you. Do you think if Delphi were to know what she is that it would make her pompous? Your witches were born into positions, my lord. When did you learn what a pureblood was?" asked Greengrass.
"Don't remember, exactly," said Potter. "A few months after I started Hogwarts."
"Your daughters and your godson will know before they arrive. What's more, everyone in their year, except for the muggleborns, will know. They will also know who is what, including your Potter-Black clan. My nephew Scorpius, their cousin, figures in there as well. Gracious entertaining, including country weekends, tea, charity fundraisers, intimate candlelit suppers in the gazebo, can all play a strategic role in whipping votes or closing a deal," said Greengrass. "They must grow into their positions and responsibilities. It works so much better than a crash course when they come of age."
Potter leaned back and looked up at the wall meeting the ceiling. He thought of his conversations with Bella as she tried to give him a good understanding of magical society, folkways and traditions. Humbled, he sensed his gratitude to Bella deepening, both for her interest and persistence.
"Wow," he said, finally.
"Can you spring for some hand soap your fiancée likes? Something she is confident the other witches in her circle would like, as well? Perhaps some of the lotion known to be very popular among the pureblood witches?" asked Greengrass. "Will it break the Potter-Black bank to make things comfortable for the Greengrass Heir's close friends and relations when they are guests in your lordship's home?
"Here I thought Bella took me to school," said Potter, clearly amused by his own cleverness.
"I expect she did," replied Greengrass. "She was diverted from the usual pureblood witch's course by the psycho but I bet she was taught all necessary pureblood arts. Too bad for you she wasn't granted time to complete your studies."
"Then you came along," he said with a smirk.
"Yes, if you wish to apply yourself," said Greengrass. "Now, do you want to see Cyrus and Isabel today? Make your pitch? If so, any last-minute questions?"
"None that I can think of," said Potter.
Greengrass smirked and gave her head a tiny shake.