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 Ten
A Harry and Daphne Fanfic
By
Bfd1235813
The Potter-Greengrass courtship got off to a very promising start, albeit one that gave some of their friends and relatives a great deal of frustration. Potter's analysis and setting of priorities centered on Daphne Greengrass. One might think, upon first hearing of Potter's devotion, that he was a gallant character. Unconcerned with time or expense, when the subject was his prospective bride's happiness, Potter discussed colors, flower choices, menus and many other society event details until he thought he would soon wake up hyperallergic to anything connected to weddings and would be forced to carry medication on his person.
That never did happen, although he feared that it would.
When he started to feel frustrated with all the lovey-dovey and wedding blather, Potter would have a crisis of conscience, usually around midnight or twelve-thirty. Then it would take him ninety minutes or so to get back to sleep.
"What am I thinking?" he asked himself, many times more than once.
His solicitor, Daphne Greengrass, was smart. Potter thought her unusual good looks fit her like one of her tailor-made suits. If her cheekbones and chin were a little more prominent than a conventionally-beautiful ideal, they fit her job and her intellect perfectly. She looked formidable. Potter didn't think there could possibly be a more formidable, beautiful lawyer, of any description, in London. And, he reminded himself, there were a LOT of lawyers in London.
"Where are you at now, with your big plans?"
Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black, loved to ask something like that every few days, usually initiating the conversation as Potter got into bed.
"Bella, are you real?" he asked, pulling his sheet and blanket up to his chin.
"As real as ever," said Bella. "Take me to your next alchemy lesson, why don't you? Your tutor will no doubt know all about enchanted portraits, photographs, sculpture…"
"Yeah, I hear those types have the St. Mungo's floo connections memorized for cases like this," said Potter. "I just want to do the right thing. If your picture there is enchanted, I want to treasure it. The girls might want to get to know you, when they're a bit older and can grasp the concept. On the other hand, if I'm crazy, I really ought to seek treatment before I've gone completely around the bend."
"So magical!" Bella observed. "So. Wedding plans?"
"No rush," said Potter. "I haven't gotten married before so I want to go through all the proper pureblood rigamarole. You know why, I'm sure. Don't you?"
"Yeah, you're pretty much an open book to me," said Bella. "You didn't marry either of those juveniles whose names I've neglected to write down…"
"Hermione Granger and Ginevra Weasley," said Potter.
"Which one did I carve up?" asked Bella.
"Bella! That was not you, I've told you before, I don't know how many times. That was a madwoman who worked for Riddle. Bella Black, of the Jamaica Blacks, had nothing to do with it," said Potter.
"If there is an afterlife I want you to promise you'll report to me as soon as you're eligible," said Bella. "I'll leave your name at the front desk."
Sensing the conversation would soon begin to violate both statutes and the Laws of Nature if it continued much further, Potter tried changing the subject.
"Everyone is doing their part," he said. "Daphne likes her legal work and won't cut down just to focus on wedding plans. Astoria likes Daphne and wants her to have yet another Greengrass perfect wedding, just like she and Draco had, but she has Draco and Scorpius and has to give them some priority."
"Isabella," said Bella.
"What do you mean?" asked Potter.
"Ask Isabella for some wise counsel," answered Bellatrix. "Do you know her?"
"Yeah," said Potter. "She wants me to call her Isabel."
"Aha! Who else calls her Isabel?"
"Cyrus. And me, which I think is all two of us," said Potter.
Bella was quiet, long enough for Potter to start thinking she'd gone to sleep.
"Just a suggestion," she said after a bit, "Look for an opportunity to take the witches to the Greengrass place and include the Black witches in something. Choosing the design of the printed things. Invitations. Place cards for your dinner. The color scheme. That should all be coordinated."
"Two kids can get involved in that? What do they know about design?" asked Potter.
"That is not the point, Potter," fussed Bella. "The idea is to get you to spend some time with your future mother-in-law. Daphne is a professional woman. That is her self-image. She may regret not having more time to draft you for planning but my guess is she feels compelled to work herself nearly to exhaustion. So Lord Potter-Black, who does not have a formal job, can step into that breach and work with Isabella so she feels included and Isabella will, in turn, be grateful to you, forevermore!"
As usual, once she had her say, Bella went dormant and Potter lay in bed, thinking about all the things he should have said.
Pain in the posterior or not, Bella did get Potter motivated and pointed in the right direction. He arose rested and ready to tackle a couple of hours of wedding planning. The business day began with a quick note to Isabella that Potter sent off by owl.
"Can the Black witches and I call on you at home, sometime today?" said the note.
The reply came by return owl.
"Sure, anytime," said Isabella's note.
"Got a treat for you today," Potter announced at breakfast.
"Yay!" said Ane.
Delphini's reply was non-verbal although her expression indicated she harbored doubts about something.
"I need some wise advice and invited us all to Greengrass Manor," he said. "I need some ideas about the design of our invitations. Daphne's mother, Lady Isabella, is a pureblood witch and socially-prominent. Those types of witches are treasures. They know all the social graces, fashion do's and don'ts, the right colors to wear in spring and fall…the list goes on and on so I won't bore you. Let's just say she is a true resource for the Potter-Blacks. We'll want to stay on her good side, it goes without saying, so I'm counting on you both."
Neither Black witch thought they had ever done anything to put them on anyone's bad side so they did not see a problem with their father's observation.
"How should we greet our hostess?" asked Potter.
Both witches dipped their heads and said, "So honored, Lady Greengrass."
Potter swelled up with pride. He couldn't remember a whole lot from before he went to Hogwarts but he knew for certain that he would have been stumped for how to greet a noble witch.
"Good Heavens," he said. "You are the most remarkable Honorables in Magical London. Now, what to wear…"
It was just before ten that morning when some green flames shot out of a chimney above Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. No one noticed due to the fact that no one who could work with magic was outside walking on the Potters' block just then. Potter and the Black witches were already known to a floo at Greengrass Manor so, moments later, Anemone Black strolled out of a fireplace, Potter did a kind of stumble right behind her, and Delphini Black let him recover before stepping out, disdaining to look at Lord Harry. She did give a quiet cluck of her tongue at the rustic who'd been cast in the role of her father.
"Oh, look who's here!" gushed their hostess, the witch Isabella Greengrass.
Potter looked at the two he'd brought, who needed no further cue to curtsy to Lady Greengrass and repeat the opening line of that morning's play.
"The honor is mine," Isabella assured the two. "Have you eaten?"
"Porridge and one-half muffin each," said Potter. "It might be time for a mid-morning."
"Come along young witches, I have just the thing," Isabella said as she led the way to the Greengrass breakfast room.
The witches were each given a bowl of sliced strawberries by a Greengrass elf, who disappeared and returned with a small plate of lady finger cookies and a bowl of whipped cream.
"I have some tea, freshly-made," said Isabella. "You do like green tea?"
"Yes, Lady Greengrass," said the witches in unison.
An elf stood by to fetch the teapot, cups and saucers.
"So, Harry, how is everything going?" asked Isabella.
"Wonderful," said Potter. "We just need to make some decisions, to help the process along. Daphne's practice is really busy. I would never have guessed magical families generate so much legal business. It seems we are either very complicated or have a drive to complicate things."
Isabella Greengrass laughed out loud.
"Some of both, I suspect," she said. "And these witches are getting to watch it all up close, aren't you?"
"Yes, Lady Greengrass," said the witches.
"I brought some samples, from Seamus and Dean's," said Potter. "Maybe you can comment on the colors and designs. I'm hopeless at that kind of thing."
Ane looked at Delphi, who did a little eye-roll at their father's confession.
"Of course!" said Isabella, obviously thrilled that her prospective son-in-law, Lord Harry Potter-Black would bring his Black witches to her manor to discuss the weighty matters orbiting the planned wedding of her daughter, the London Magical Solicitor Daphne Greengrass to said Lord Potter-Black.
"Can we see?" asked Isabella.
Ane and Delphi were spooning up sliced strawberries with whipped cream but followed the retrieval and arrangement of the samples.
"Oh, nice," said Lady Greengrass as the first items were laid on the table. Potter had a generous supply and had shrunk everything before leaving home. The setting-out continued, Potter trying for a hint of drama to add a little interest. The witches finished their strawberries and the elves whisked away the tableware.
Art time in the Potter dining room was very informal. Potter wanted the art to feel natural, not mannered or stilted, so he encouraged the witches to kneel on the chair seats, lean on top of the table and commune with their art supplies.
Once finished with strawberries and whipped cream, the witches and the invitation project moved to the Greengrass dining room.
Ane and Delphi observed the rule from home and slid out of their shoes. This triggered Isabella's memories of the time when she was raising the Greengrass witches, leading to Isabella getting into the spirit of the day, kicking her own shoes off and joining the girls in kneeling on her chair's seat.
"Magnificent, wouldn't you say, girls?" gushed Isabella as she began picking up samples.
Ane observed the samples were pretty. Delphi noted they were there to pick something.
"How about this," said Potter. "We all pick one or two. The winner will be from that group and we'll set the others aside. Then we each make a case for one. You can give up your choice if you like someone else's. When we get down to two or three we might have to draw lots or something. They will probably all be pretty good by then."
Isabella watched the interactions between the witches and Harry Potter. Magical ripples kept tracing triangular patterns between them. They were some of the more beautiful manifestations of magic, in Isabella's opinion. The wavy air served no purpose in either the physical or magical realm, as far as she knew. The effects existed solely because they were beautiful.
When the Potter-Blacks selected Isabella's choice for the design theme for the upcoming wedding, Isabella called for sandwiches and fresh fruit juice to be served.
Afterwards, the Lady Greengrass invited her guests to accompany her on a stroll around the Greengrass Manor gardens. The Black witches established a pattern. They would run ahead and find something about which they had a question, stop and wait. When their father and intended step-grandmother caught up they would run back to show what they had found and ask questions. Then the process would repeat.
"Have you heard anything from Astoria, Harry?" asked Isabella.
"Don't think so, should I?" asked Potter.
"Oh, I thought she might be getting in touch," Isabella answered.
Potter walked along, pondering. Isabella was getting at something but Potter couldn't grasp what that was.
"I heard a suggestion, somewhere, that Draco wasn't sure about the name you liked for Cyrus' namesake," said Isabella.
Potter was wracking his brain. What was objectionable? Cyrus and Isabella had both seemed enthusiastic when he and Daphne had agreed to a Greengrass heir, gods willing. He thought of something. It seemed far-fetched but was worth a shot, he judged.
"Draconis. Is that it?"
"Oh! How prescient, Harry. My understanding is Draco has always been ambivalent about his given name," said Isabella.
"Right. I could see that. It was just an idea, and will stay that way until there is a young fella here who needs a name. Okay, a placeholder. Would you object to Asturias? Ought to be legit, it seems to me. Cyrus Asturias Potter Greengrass…"
Isabella Greengrass flexed her arm and pulled Potter in, tight.
"Cyrus Asturias Potter Greengrass…" she said to herself.
"Merlin willing," Potter added. "Like I said, no use speculating until the prospective parents produce a wizard."
He looked over at his hostess, not really surprised to see how sparkly her eyes had become. Narcissa and Andromeda could get the same sparkle watching a butterfly stick its proboscis in a flower. Isabel was sentimental, he knew. She was probably done with having children so the mere prospect of a little Greengrass wizard, speculative though it might be, filled her with good feelings. He resolved to remember the moment so that, should he and Daphne be so lucky, the future Heir Apparent would get ample time at Greengrass Manor. His grandparents' tutelage would be critical to his success as the Greengrass Chieftain.
"If you don't think it's too snooty," Potter added. "Some of the aristo families…"
"Mmm…Like yours?" asked Isabella.
"I grew up in a subdivision in Surrey," Potter said, just a little protest in his tone. "At Hogwarts I was this fluke who could handle a hot broom and was a magnet. Target practice for a dark wizard."
"You are also a yachtsman, I understand?" asked Isabella. "Offshore, open ocean single-handed sailor. A daughter coming up who also has the touch, didn't I hear? It's in your blood, Harry. Don't fight it."
"Okay, I just want to be a good husband, supportive of my wife-to-be, the rising star of magical lawyers," said Potter.
Conversation went on pause when Delphi raced back to Potter and Isabella. Ane was right behind her. The witches demanded Potter examine a possible diamond they'd picked up from the garden path. It looked to Potter like a pea-sized fragment of bottle glass but well worth taking to a real jeweler for further study. He folded the prospective diamond inside his handkerchief and tucked it away for safekeeping.
The strollers worked their way back to the house. Potter kept the stationery samples separate so they got the order right. The witches were very gracious, delivering their farewell thanks for Isabella's hospitality and help. Isabella got a bit sparkly all over again as they said goodbye.
"Right, home again. Let's do a note card to Isabella. Maybe another to Seamus and Dean. Delphi, want to do the order? Anyone need a snack?"
Harry Potter started off in life barely more magical than a muggleborn. Orphaned before he was two years old, raised in a viciously anti-magical household, he arrived at Hogwarts at eleven years of age with no knowledge of the magical world. Potter didn't know anything about the classifications, according to blood status, that determined so much of what happened in his new society. He eventually fathered two pureblood witches.
Potter sat at his dining table working with the witches on some bread and butter notes. They were completely absorbed in their work, leaning together now and then to ask about spelling or some grammatical nicety. He thought they looked like a pair of young Bellas. That always made him happy until the codicil, the reminder that Bella was gone forever and he would be the one.
Potter wondered whether he was doing the right thing. More properly, was he doing the honorable thing, recruiting Daphne Greengrass into his family, to be Ane and Delphi's step-mother. That responsibility might even extend to Teddy Lupin, since Andromeda Tonks was no spring chicken. That fact hung about, reminding Potter that he needed to be mentally prepared for the possibility since tragedy could occur without warning.
For some reason, the idea got stuck in Potter's head. He thought, through the afternoon and evening, of fairness. Whether it was fair to Daphne to bring her into his stew of fractured families, war widows and orphans. They'd had good luck with lunch, just recently. Potter reached a conclusion and resolved to meet with the other principal and come clean.
It took a few days but Potter got Greengrass to agree on a lunch date. He built in a little escape plan for the two of them.
"Just in case," he said to himself.
The venue for lunch would be the Black estate. Potter planned to take Greengrass there for the purpose of taking a closer look and assessing the capability of the dining room. A pleasant lunchtime conversation might ensue. Potter expected it would, as a matter of fact.
"Okay, so today you will go to Auntie Andromeda's and have lunch. Teddy will be there so you won't gang up on him, will you?" Potter asked. Delphi raised her eyebrows, wondering if Harry Potter would ever grow up.
Ane shook her head, 'No.'
"Good," said Potter. "Let's get you over there."
The drop-off consumed about ten minutes, then Potter took the floo to London and Daphne's firm's offices.
"So! Right on time," said Greengrass as she looked at her desk calendar.
Potter told himself she wasn't really interested in whether he was right on time or a couple of minutes one way or the other. It was just a habit formed during her years of study as well as the time she put in tunneling from under the pile of work appropriate for a new associate.
"I must be polite and respectful of others' time. They might have more demanding schedules than I do," said Potter.
The receptionist tried to keep her head down but Daphne noticed she raised up just enough to take in the exchange.
'Eat your heart out Suzanne,' thought Daphne.
'How does one work-obsessed, manor-raised witch get all the luck?'' Suzanne asked herself.
"I'm asking for your help," Potter explained as the two walked to an apparation point. "We're going to evaluate a household. No one has been living there and I need to identify anything that requires immediate attention. It's a legacy from Sirius and when I am gone it goes to Teddy. It wouldn't be right to leave him with a wreck of an estate."
One quick apparation later, Potter and Greengrass arrived outside the Black wards. They passed through the gate and walked up to the front door. Daphne got the sniffing treatment once more. She wondered if that was her fate, to be investigated by wards that thought they were inquisitive Alsatians.
Potter had consulted with Polaris, in advance, so the lunch was quite good. The menu was traditional, thin-sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, steamed Brussels sprouts, peaches and cream with shortbread cookies.
"What do you think, so far?"
Potter kept his voice low.
Daphne Greengrass sent a thumbs-up across the table.
"I just want to know if I could bring someone here, for business or whatever," said Potter.
"What business do you have, would you say?" asked Greengrass. "Do you have a job? I don't remember if I heard what that was."
"Okay, you don't have to rub it in," Potter replied. "I know how lucky I have been. Luck has nothing to do with hard work or merit or advanced education…"
Potter appeared to be puzzled by that reality. His luncheon date gave a little smirk.
"My father and generations before him, going back quite a few decades, centuries, even, worked hard. If it weren't for blind luck, they'd be shining boots today or collecting unicorn hair to sell to Ollivander's or something equally-distinguished. Instead, I grew up on an estate and my mother is entitled to display the arms of Asturias. Sure, I work hard, try to get things right the first time and I take care of my brain. Without luck that is a recipe for a mediocre career, maybe with a few years as a judge at the end if you don't screw anything up too badly. So don't you ever apologize for what you inherited or some break you got. Harry Potter, good people died to put you on your path and they don't begrudge you for any of it. I suspect your mum and dad would do it all over again since they got a wizard like you the last time."
Potter didn't speak for a bit, dabbing his eyes with a napkin before replying.
"You don't have to do that over and over," he said. "I'll be mad for you, whether you do or don't."
Daphne's napkin came flying across the table, hitting Potter in the face.
"Your Black estate is perfect," she said, changing subjects. "That is what we came for, isn't it? Do I owe you a report?"
"Yes and no," said Potter. "I'm soliciting your views. There are others I could bring but they would no doubt be prejudiced by associations. The problem Blacks are gone so you can be more objective. We'll need that when…you know."
"Do I? When I know what, exactly?" asked Greengrass.
"I have two children with the late Bella Black Lestrange. The Black Heir is my godson," said Potter. "We'll be associated with that, in some minds. You know…after."
"Oh, my eyes are wide open, Harry," said Greengrass. "I can get a bit rattled when I think about spending my life with a wizard who can poke someone in the chest with a finger, then they go down and stay down. Someone told me picking a partner is a package deal. It's not fair to ask them for a complete overhaul after you've exchanged vows."
"Oh, what a pleasant surprise," said Potter. "I anticipated an hour or two of dancing around before we got to the real subject matter. Is there anything about me that you've discovered you just can't stand?"
"Like?" Daphne asked.
"Oh, I was kind of raw, then I went sailing around with a genuine rebel. You need to know, Bella is still my only sexual partner. We were, uh, kind of physical together. She was a lot older and more experienced than I was," he said.
"If you aren't bragging, you must be giving me fair warning," said Greengrass. "While I don't have any experience to speak of, I do have an idea I should be able to handle your needs."
Potter thought her eyes had taken on that raptor look again.
"No, that's not it!" he said. "If I start something you don't like, just say so."
Greengrass snickered at that, stood and came around the table. She motioned for Potter to push back, then sat on his lap.
"Do I strike you as a silent, passive witch who would let her husband abuse her because she was afraid or too embarrassed to speak up?"
"No, of course not," said Potter.
"Well, then," Daphne said, giving him a kiss.
"Ahh…okay. Did you hear that the witches and I paid a courtesy call on Isabel?" asked Potter.
"No! What are you doing calling on my mother without letting me know first?" Greengrass demanded.
"You're working a lot so I'm trying to help with some of the logistical matters. We took all the paper samples, invitation cards, announcements for the people who won't get an invite, that sort of thing. I was told it was good practice for the Black witches and Isabel would appreciate getting to participate. It's her oldest child's wedding. She's the mother of the bride," said Potter.
"Obviously," noted Daphne.
"I don't work so I heard that and thought it sounded like a great idea."
"Got it. Thank-you, Harry that is ultra-considerate. Who told you to call Mother Isabel?" Daphne demanded.
"She did, the other day after we came in from our walk," Potter said. "I took it as a compliment."
"Yeah, could be," said Daphne. "Umm…Just so you know, no one but Cyrus calls her Isabel."
"Oh," said Potter, his eyes looking at something a bit distant. "Oh. Well, it's getting late. The house passed its first Daphne Greengrass look-see, right? So there is only the one thing."
"What one thing?" asked Daphne as she stole a glance at her watch.
"I wanted to be someplace private when I give you this," said Potter.
He removed his hand from the side pocket of his jacket. Greengrass saw a small box. Potter lifted the lid, revealing the box contained an oval-cut solitaire sapphire in a white gold setting.
"If you still agree to marry me it's expected. When it catches your eye I hope it will remind you that I love you," he said. "If this is acceptable…"
Daphne had to twist a bit to line her left hand up with Potter's as he put the ring on her finger.
"Lovely," she said. "I've always liked sapphires. Thank-you, Lord Potter-Black. I will do my best to be a proper wife and partner."
"Of course you will, you'll be the best, ever," said Potter. "Don't think you're required to toady. I wasn't raised to consider myself entitled."
Daphne Greengrass giggled, then her face shifted from giggly to serious. Their faces were very close. She didn't take her eyes from Potter's as she slid from his lap and let herself down to the floor.
"May I have a biscuit?" she asked.
Potter took a biscuit from the little tray that had come with their coffee.
"Half," said Daphne.
Potter broke the biscuit into two pieces. He thought he knew what his fiancée wanted. There was one way to find out. Her cheek was just touching his thigh. She was watching, looking up at Potter. He offered her one half of the biscuit, which she took from his fingers with her teeth. The biscuit disappeared as Daphne began to chew.
Potter held the other half of the biscuit, waiting to see if Daphne wanted it. She gave it a glance, then looked back to Potter. He was supposed to do something, supposed to know what to do. He took a guess, broke the remaining half into two. Potter held out one piece for Daphne and popped the other into his mouth. Daphne had to smile and chew. Potter smiled back. He offered Daphne a drink from his water tumbler. Finished drinking, she turned her head to the side and let her cheek rest on Potter's leg.
Potter held out as long as he could, finally taking a look at his wristwatch. Then he cleared his throat.
"Yes?" asked Daphne.
Potter looked down. Her hair was in a severe, professional woman's 'do, brushed back from her face, ending in a tight bun at the back of her head. She wore a charcoal jacket over a white silk blouse, a charcoal sheath skirt and dark gray stockings. Her cheekbones and chin were giving her face the chiseled effect Potter had noticed before, and the raptor lurked just behind her eyes.
"It's no fun doing this, but I have to take you back," said Potter. "Magical folk in London need their solicitor. They have appointments for will drafting or something."
Greengrass let go a deep, drawn-out sigh.
"Okay," she said, getting to her feet.
Greengrass paused by Potter's chair, holding up her left hand to assess her engagement ring. That got Potter another kiss, long and wet.
"Thank-you," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he answered.
They apparated back. Walking from the apparation point to the office, Potter raised something timely. At least, he thought it was timely.
"When would you like to get married?" he asked.
"When can you and my mother make it happen?" asked Greengrass, her tone a kind of half-hearted snarl.
"Sorry, did I just step on toes?"
"No, of course not. I don't know what I was thinking," said Greengrass. "I guess I'm coming to terms with the fact that my mother and my future husband are dividing up all the bride's work. Maybe my schoolgirl fantasies had me in that role."
"The princess shouldn't have to worry her pretty head," said Potter. "Besides, you have a paying job. We'll need that after we're married. I've heard there are all kinds of things newlyweds need to buy to equip their first household."
"Harry Potter, enough!" Greengrass replied. "I officially cede my place to you. Just remember, you and Isabella can't screw this up."
"With me working on it, we probably can," Potter observed. "And here we are. Call me when you get home."
He'd anticipated Greengrass turning toward the door to the law office. Instead, she stood there, her face a perfect blank. Potter's thoughts swirled. He had an idea, took Daphne Greengrass's right hand in both of his, bent over and brought the hand to his lips. It was just the slightest of brushes, the chivalric tribute that, from the days of the troubadours, signaled the bestowal of a vow of faithful service to the noble, chaste, pure lady who occupied the pedestal at the center of the knight's life.
Potter finished paying his respects, looking up. Greengrass seemed to glow. It startled him, the effect was so strong.
"Oh, aren't you the most gallant…" she began.
"It has been an honor," said Potter, who bowed a second time, stood and pivoted to walk back to the apparation point.
Potter materialized back at the Tonks farm, already thinking about the floo call he would make to Isabel Greengrass.
"I'm back!"
The Black witches were in the farmhouse living room, craft materials spread around for easy retrieval.
"Okay!" they replied.
Potter walked to the rear of the house.
"Did you want to hear about whatever news I might be bringing back?" he asked.
"Sure," said the Black witches.
Teddy looked up and shrugged, completely out of his depth.
"I gave Miss Daphne a ring today," he said. "Grownups call that an engagement ring. It means we are officially promised to one another and we will be getting married."
Ane didn't look up from her work. Delphi turned her head to Potter, eyelids barely half open.
"Are you excited?" asked Potter.
"Of course, Dad," said Ane.
"Harry, we're thrilled," added Delphi.
"Guess so," said Teddy, who hadn't really thought about it.
"That's wonderful, Harry," said Andromeda. "I am so happy for you!"
"How nice that someone is," said Potter, flicking his eyes at the children.
Andromeda Tonks laughed at Potter's comment, which went completely over the children's' heads.
"They don't get the significance," said Andromeda. "You'll probably be surprised, when the festivities are over, how much they will remember in the years ahead."
The pre-wedding pageant continued. They didn't have an engagement party, seeing those as appropriate for the eighteen-to-twenty-somethings, fresh out of the box, who practically camped out on the society page of the Daily Prophet during their treks to the altar. Instead, Daphne wore her engagement ring at work, so Suzanne could get a good look, as well as out to lunch at discreet tables in the Leaky Cauldron.
Potter put a good deal of thought and energy into keeping the Black witches' profile as low as possible. His circle—himself, Daphne, Andromeda and Narcissa—was in agreement on the strategy. Ane and Delphi's resemblance to the late Bellatrix Lestrange would bring attention they didn't need. The approaching nuptials would be the first test of Potter's plan to let Magical Britain get used to the idea in glacier-slow increments.
Magical Britain, though, seemed to have an instinct for both good taste and letting bygones be bygones. The solution Neville Longbottom had outlined for Potter, several years prior, was still in effect. The very bad witch Bellatrix Lestrange jumped from the roof of Azkaban Prison. Her body was never recovered, although her prison smock was. There was no interest in revisiting the official conclusions of the Wizengamot regarding the deceased witch's exit from this world.
"You and a magical lawyer," marveled Longbottom.
He and Harry Potter had taken their stations at the front of the congregation, awaiting the arrival of Astoria Malfoy and the bride, Daphne Greengrass. The last attendees walked up the aisle, the Black witches, Anemone and Delphini, taking their places in the front row on the groom's side of the congregation. They were followed by the matron of honor, Astoria, then Cyrus and Daphne.
The father of the bride transferred her hand to that of the groom, who graciously accepted. The couple gave their promises.
Love.
Honor.
Cherish.
The corners of eyes were dabbed, here and there in the congregation.
The new family spent a long weekend together at Potter Manor.
"What do we call you?"
Daphne was expecting something of the sort. She and the witches would have to have some kind of day-to-day communications. Daphne looked over at Delphi.
"What do you want to call me?" she asked. "Have you given that any thought?"
"Well…" Delphi began, her eyes drifting over to Ane.
"We talked," said Ane.
"Anything sound likely? Logical?"
"Do you want us to call you Mum?" asked Ane.
"No, I don't think that would be right," said Daphne. "I'm not your mother. You've always called me Daphne. Do you want to stay with that?"
"Well, that was when you weren't anyone in our family," said Delphi. "Harry's girlfriend, I guess."
Daphne managed to suppress her laugh.
"Now you're something," Delphi continued.
"Thank-you!" said Daphne. "I am. Harry's wife and your step-mother. But not your mum."
"She's Daphne and our step-mum. Mum Daphne," said Ane.
"Yes, that may be it," said Daphne. "What do you think, Delphi?"
"Mum Daphne," said Delphi. "Okay. I'll tell Harry."
"Won't Harry hear you using it and figure it out?"
"You never know with him," said Delphi.