Edited 25 Aug 2024
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Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
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A/N: I will plan on posting 2 chapters a weekend but can't promise that is a hard schedule due to life.
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Chapter 2
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December 28, 1998
London, England
He had hoped to have the week off, but an owl from Rotgnasher had him apparating to the Ministry and descending down in the old red telephone kiosk. It was a little ironic that most wizards didn't realize that these old boxes were out of date, or that the phone in the booth was probably last produced in the 1950's. If it wasn't for the muggle distraction and repelling charms, they would either find it quaint or distasteful. He never could tell with his fellow countrymen. Some loved to hold onto the past while others wanted to march forward.
As the atrium came into view, he rolled his eyes to still see the statues in it. They were supposed to have been moved to a Hall of Fame, or something like that, on level two, but apparently the minister was trying to milk it for all it was worth.
When the booth came to a stop, he opened the door and started the long walk towards the atrium. A dozen large floos on each side of the large, vaulted ceilings made for a long walk.
Luckily, since it was the Christmas Hols, not many were here. He still got a few looks as he took long strides to make his way to the lifts as fast as possible. His manner announcing he was here for business kept others away.
As he approached the guard station, Eric, the day guard, said, "Good morning, Mister Potter."
"Morning, Eric. You know you can call me Harry. Hope you had a good Hols? How about Annie and Jack?" Harry said politely. The man had mostly stopped his hero worship of him and seemed like a nice enough man.
"I need to show the proper respect, or my boss will hear about it. Christmas was nice. The kids enjoyed their presents," Eric said back with a big smile, though Harry didn't miss the slightly haunted look to his eyes. The man's wife had been killed on a raid to Diagon Alley during the war and he knew it wasn't always easy for the man to raise his two younger children on his own. At least the man's parents were still around. He was the type of man why Harry had fought and did what he did.
"That's great. Let me catch up with you more on my way out. I have something important to attend too," he said.
Andi had been drilling him on being polite to people, training him on how to remember small facts, especially about people that might be important to you, and that he needed to be more personable. It wasn't his natural tendency, but if he was to achieve what he wanted, he needed all the support he could drum up.
"Understood, Mister Potter. I'll see you when you leave," Eric told him.
"Hopefully won't be long," he replied.
When finally past the station, he quickened his pace to the lifts. He had to go up to level 2B. All the Wizengamot officed were on the sublevels 2B and 2C, with offices overlooking the Atrium. The main level 2 had all the DMLE offices, the upper courtrooms, main meeting chambers and the law department.
Just as the grills were about to close a man slipped into the elevator. Harry's eyes narrowed to see the tall, white bearded man in vibrant purple robes with golden shooting stars. He adverted his eyes to look at the man's chest. Harry had gotten much better at occlumency, but he wouldn't give this man a chance.
The grate slammed shut in a louder than usual way, as though sensing Harry's anger. He hit the button a few times in his annoyance.
"Good morning, Harry," the man said in his irritatingly calm voice.
"It is Mister Potter or Mister Potter-Black, Warlock Dumbledore," he coldly said.
The man frowned. "Do we need to remain at such lager heads?"
Harry took in a long breath, cursing as the lift descended instead of going up. He thought he had gotten into one that was flagged to go up. After letting out a long breath, Harry said, "We have nothing to say to each other."
"I rather think we do. There are some unresolved issues I need to address with you, as well as a complaint against your representative," Dumbledore told him.
"We have nothing to talk about. If you have an issue with me or my representative, take it up with him and the Wizengamot," Harry replied.
"I would rather talk with you. I think we have much the same goals, but you are causing ripples I don't think you understand," Dumbledore said as though he was some great mentor trying to instruct his student.
"The day you tried to declare me a Dark Lord was the day we had nothing left to talk about." The lift stopped and the grate opened. "I think this is your stop."
"I'm afraid not, Harry."
"Mister Potter," he said acidly.
"Harry…"
Harry turned on the old man, his wand coming out and pointed at the man. He didn't miss the greedy look in the man's eyes as it came to point between his eyes. "Mister Potter, Warlock Dumbledore. I am not dark, but I have learned to take care of my enemies. No thanks to you. Now, get out!" The light of the lift flickered as his magic seeped out.
"I am afraid we have the same destination," the man calmly said, though Harry could feel the man's magic building in response. Dumbledore knew the wand pointing at him was the same one Harry had won off him just over a year ago. What Dumbledore didn't know was that the ring on Harry's finger was part of his birthright, as was the wand. The ring called to the wand to drive his knowledge of its true potential. Generations of magical knowledge were at his call if needed. Harry hated to do that though because it always left a headache, his nose bleeding and weeks of nightmares as the spirits didn't really want to come back. The cloak was the defence designed into the trio of artefacts to protect him from that effect, but it only worked if he was wearing it, and was usually not an option when in situations like this.
"Then why the bloody fuck did you take us to the fifth level!?"
"I need to talk with you, and you have refused all other entreaties," the man told him, his calm demeanour slipping.
The golden grates closed.
"We. Have. Nothing. To. Talk. About." Harry furiously said again. He stepped back, still pointing his wand at the man. He didn't trust Dumbledore as far as he could toss him with the elder wand.
"I'm afraid we do. Your representative is waiting for both of us. I have a complaint from some of my associates and the minister," the man said.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "I have full faith in my representative."
"You may, but your representative does not have the right to represent you," Dumbledore said.
"Bull shite!"
"I'm sure they do, but I assure you that you are needed for this," Dumbledore told him.
Harry didn't put his wand away until they were in his Wizengamot offices. The younger goblin that was his representative was sitting behind the large desk with an equally sour expression as Harry.
His ire grew to see Shacklebolt and two others already in the office. His eyes narrowed to see Warlock Dearborn and Warlock Marshbanks. Harry refused to take a seat, instead petulantly folding his arms and leaning against the wall to the side of Rotgnasher. He had learned a while ago not to stand behind the goblin, or to turn his back on a door or window.
"What is this about?" Rotgnasher demanded.
"We are here to inform you that you are not qualified to represent Mister Potter," Dearborn said. The man had a few sparce patches of white hair and large liver spots on his head, hands and neck.
Rotgnasher gave a mirthless chuckle. "The wizards think they are funny."
Harry gave the little, surly man a shrug. "Don't look to me."
"This is no joke," Dearborn said, looking upset at their reactions. "You are not a full wizard, goblin. Only full wizards can sit your seat, Mister Potter. We have been protesting this for some time and finally found the old ruling."
A parchment was put onto the table. Rotgnasher didn't move to take it. Harry just rose an eyebrow.
"That is just an old musty scroll with no magical significance. What is your point, wizard?" Rotgnasher questioned.
"Honourable goblin, we do not mean you any offense, but you are illegally sitting for an heir of a Wizengamot seat. All your votes in the last year will need to be vacated. Mister Potter, you will need to take up your seat or appoint an appropriate representative," Shacklebolt informed him.
Harry shrugged. "Alright."
Rotgnasher snarled, but he could make out the slight uptick to the goblin's mouth. His representative was going to enjoy this.
"I'm glad you are so understanding," Dumbledore said. "We will have to reconsider all the legislation in the last year. When will you step up to your seat? The earliest possible will be the spring solstice."
"I think you misunderstand me," Harry told them.
The three wizards and the witch looked to him. "Excuse me?" Dearborn said in the condescending tone he often used on Harry. The man obviously thought him some upstart. He may not be wrong, but Harry understood he held most of the power here, as loath he was to use it.
"Alright. If you want to throw out the goblin, then I will back them in declaring the ministry in violation of contract and treaty," Harry told them without much emotion
This brought them up short.
"Excuse me? What breach of contract and treaty?" Shacklebolt trepidatiously queried. The ministry had narrowly avoided a revolt when Dumbledore had tried to declare Harry a Dark Lord for killing Voldemort, Snape, Draco and all the other Death Eaters. The hint they could be looking at another threat of rebellion had Shacklebolt on eggshells.
"Rotgnasher, what was it again? The rebellion of fourteen-fifteen? Gutclaw the Gruesome, right?" Harry asked.
Rotgnasher gave a mirthless grinned. "Close, Mister Potter. Fifteen-fourteen. The resultant treaty allowed for any goblin sealed contract that was accepted by the wizarding council to be considered law for that family."
Harry snapped his fingers. "Oh, sorry about that. The ghost that taught us was a little dry and didn't really paint the goblin nations in the best way."
Rotgnasher snarled. Dumbledore gave him a disappointed look while Marshbanks bristled. "That is highly offensive, Mister Potter. Professor Binns is an excellent teacher and has most of his students pass his course and make their OWL's."
Harry snorted. "Only because they are the British OWL's. Have you seen what France or the international standard from the MACUSA are? Rotgnasher, remind me what does that mean, family law?"
"That does not matter, Harry. The wizarding council was dissolved over three hundred years ago," Dumbledore told him as though he had no idea what he was talking about.
Little did they know what the goblins had been teaching him for nearly two years now.
"Ah, but as part of the Wizengamot charter and the ministry laws, all treaties active at the time were adopted by the ministry," Rotgnasher said with a toothless grin. His hand moved to the hilt of his dagger. "The rights of family law is in one of those treaties."
Dearborn shared a look with Dumbledore. Shacklebolt was the one to ask as Marchbanks still looked livid at him. Harry had a feeling she knew what he was talking about, but most of the old treaties had been forgotten about by most except the old families. "Mister Potter, what is family law?"
He scratched his chin before motioning towards his representative.
"Minister, surely you must know about family law? But I shouldn't be surprised as there are no longer any tradition classes at Hogwarts or the other schools around Britain, nor is the History of Magic class what it once was."
Harry had to fight to school his face as Marchbanks spluttered.
"For your education, minister, Wizards may be bound to the laws of the Wizengamot, but a family can declare a charter defining important items like inheritance, regency, representation, marriage, family member conduct and the like. It will not allow something like murder to go unpunished by the Wizengamot or the ministry but may allow something like a duel to the death should a challenge exist inside the family.
On August fifteenth of nineteen ninety-seven, Mister Potter enacted a new charter for the Potter family. It was accepted by goblin magic and filed with the Ministry. No challenge was given by a family member or the Wizengamot within the sixty days allowed, so it is now Potter family law. Does the ministry wish to challenge the family charter? If so, I will inform Head Manager Ringknot. I am sure he would be glad to consider all other family charters and treaties null and void."
Harry was bighting the inside of his cheek to not laugh to see Dearborn and Marchbanks blanche. Shacklebolt was stunned with wide eyes. Dumbledore looked slightly shaken.
"I don't think we need to be hasty. What about the Potter Family Charter would supersede Wizengamot law?" Dumbledore asked, knowing that family laws couldn't do that unless in a few circumstances.
"In perpetuity, until both parties agreed to end the partnership, the Potter family has contracted with Gringotts to be their representative. I think you will find all my votes and dealings to be perfectly legal. If we are done, please leave. You are wasting my time. Should it happen again, I will request Mister Potter and Chief Ragnog to amend our contract to allow me to charge the Wizengamot for my wasted time," Rotgnasher growled.
Shacklebolt, Marshbanks and Dearborn stood up, not looking pleased but obviously wanting to avoid the hint of a rebellion or the goblins to charge the already cash strapped ministry. Dumbledore didn't move.
"I said we are done," Rotgnasher stated.
"Harry and I need to talk," Dumbledore said.
"Get out," Harry just about hissed at the man.
"Harry. There are things we need to discuss. You have been avoiding me for over a year now," the man said.
"Get. Out."
Rotgnasher pulled out his knife and placed it on the table. "Mister Potter does not want to talk."
"I'm afraid I must insist," Dumbledore said.
"Albus, now isn't the time," Dearborn said in a low voice, glancing nervously to Rotgnasher. If only he recognized Harry as the larger threat, he would already be running.
"I must discuss this with Harry," Dumbledore said. "To much time has already passed."
"Five minutes," Rotgnasher said.
Harry glared at the goblin.
"This is a conversation for only Harry and I," Dumbledore said.
"If you are in this office, it is the business of the Wizengamot, thus my business. Otherwise, the rules I disseminated to the other members specifically state all business with Mister Potter is to go through me first," Rotgnasher said.
"Albus, just leave it," Dearborn hastily whispered.
"It will be alright, Caradoc."
"Four and a half minutes," Rotgnasher said.
The others filed out. Harry leaned against the wall, glaring at the goblin. The last person in the world he wanted to talk with was Dumbledore.
"Harry…
"Mister Potter, old man," he snapped. "Are you going senile?"
The look of disappointment only fuelled Harry's rage. "Mister Potter, there are items from Sirius's will that we need to discuss. I have been trying to talk with you about this since you turned seventeen."
"I know what is in the will. Everything is handled," Harry emotionlessly stated.
"That isn't possible. I was made the executive," Dumbledore tried to explain.
"You are not," Rotgnasher stated.
Dumbledore showed a bit of annoyance now. "I assure you, I am the executor of Sirius Black's will."
"You are not. Sirius Black's will was superseded by family law. Gringotts bank and my clan have been working with Mister Potter and his regent as the will's executor. If you wish to run afoul of a treaty, please keep misrepresenting yourself, Warlock Dumbledore," Rotgnasher said with a gleam to his eye.
Dumbledore's face went expressionless. After a moment, he said, "I see. I will check the charters on file to see if you are correct, Representative Rotgnasher. If not, I will claim the goblins in violation."
The barest hint of the goblins sharp teeth appeared. "Please do, Warlock Dumbledore. I look forward to the challenge. I prefer the blade. I hope you do as well?"
This finally rattled the old man. "Excuse me?"
Rotgnasher grinned. "The Black family charter says that the executor can be challenged. The one challenged can choose the contest. I prefer my blade."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Very well. We will continue this conversation at a future date."
"No, we won't," Harry told him.
When Dumbledore left, Rotgnasher let out what could only be a string of expletives in gobbledegook. Harry leaned heavily against the wall. When the goblin called down, Harry asked, "Is this what you called me for?"
"No. This was an ambush. They will read the charters now," Rotgnasher told him.
Harry shrugged. "Let them. I don't have anything to hide. Let the bastard choke when he realizes he has no control over me anymore and will never get either fortune."
Rotgnasher grinned as he nicked his palm before putting his knife way. A goblin's personal blade was only ever to be pulled to draw blood. It was never to be put away until it had tasted blood.
"I owled for two items. I have a counteroffer from Brown," Rotgnasher said.
"What does he want?"
"A vote on a five-year monopoly for the moon flowers. He says the cost of the greenhouses and runes are higher than expected," Rotgnasher said.
Harry shook his head. "I will agree to a patent and match his investment."
Rotgnasher seemed to chew on that for a moment. "Twenty percent of the profits for ten years."
"If you think he will go for it, sure. Is that all? We could have done that by owl post," Harry said, feeling that was a pitiful excuse to call him.
Rotgnasher slid a paper over to him. "The Malfoys have filed an official petition challenging the heirship. Madam Malfoy wants to claim her daughter as the last of the bloodline."
Harry sighed. "We expected this. I'm working on it."
"It isn't that complicated. You choose a mate. You claim her. You bed her until she either can't walk right, or you get an heir," Rotgnasher told him.
Harry snorted. "It's not that simple for wizards and witches."
"It should be. You have seven months, or they will win the challenge by default," Rotgnasher told him.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell. The Malfoys can't get the seat."
Narcissa would be able to represent the seat until the girl turned twenty-one or was married off by the age of nineteen. Then the Black powers would transfer to her husband until an heir was born and came of age. He couldn't wait to change the Black family charter.
"Then claim and bed a mate. Whatever your kind finds acceptable," Rotgnasher told him.
"Thanks. You're a saint," Harry sarcastically said.
The goblin growled at him, his hand going to the hilt of his blade. Like the wizards, the old Christian faiths had not been kind to the goblins. The crusades had not only been against the infidels of Islam. Many of the saints in the Middle Ages were canonized because of their fight against magic.
"Don't dare call me such an offensive thing!"
Harry smirked. "Then leave off. Oh, and I knew the date."
"That is why I didn't gut you," Rotgnasher snarked back. "Now get out of here. I have work to do."
Harry took the parchments with the official challenge. "Thanks. Make sure you take a bonus for this year," Harry told him.
Rotgnasher leaned over the desk, pulling some parchments to him. It took the goblin a moment to say, "Seeing the minister run was bonus enough."
Harry grinned as he walked out. He took out his invisibility cloak, happy he did as Dumbledore was waiting by the lifts as he left. He would talk with Eric next time.
-oOo-
That evening…
Hammersmith, England
He popped into existence in a side alley he had been given a picture too. Unlike some would like to think, apparition worked by visualization. If you couldn't visualize the place, you couldn't go. Portkeys were different. You could send someone to a specific, Arithmantically calculated coordinates based upon Muggle coordinates or star locations.
Letting his senses determine if things were safe or not, he could feel the muggle distraction and repelling wards around the apparition point. His years of being hunted and then the war had taught him this hard lesson. The loss of Sirius had been one of the unfortunate teaching moments. Feeling the magic, the wards seemed pretty standard, so Harry figured this must be a safe location set up by the ministry. That meant they would know when someone accessed it, if they cared to monitor them. Since there were thousands of such points across the islands, he doubted anyone really paid attention.
Just the same, he noted it for the future. Walking out of the alley, he searched for a different safe spot to apparate too… hoping there was a next time.
Looking at the piece of paper in his hands, he walked out to find himself along the Thames. Streetlamps lit up a cement walkway. In the chilly winter months, it was deserted. Expensive and well-maintained houses lined the street or went right up to the walkway. Looking at the addresses, he realized that Daphne lived along the Thames in an old brick building with white wood trim. It was one of the more upscale houses of the neighbourhood.
Putting the paper into his pocket, he made off for the building. Touching his hand to the doorknob to the main entryway, he felt the pull of magic to detect if he meant any harm. Bill did excellent work. The door opened without any resistance. The hallway showed that there were a few apartments and a stair leading up. She was on the third floor, so he took the stairs two at a time. It had been a while since he had been this excited, and nervous, to meet someone.
The third floor had only three doors. The apartments were obviously larger up here. Double checking his breath, he checked himself over quickly. Undoing his long dragon hide coat, he made sure his clothes were wrinkle free. Andi had insisted he dress a little more formal tonight. Harry refused to wear a suit, so he was in a nice button-down shirt, a dark green jumper-vest, black trousers and his Hungarian Horntail trench coat. It was a little dated and worn, but he liked it. Some would probably call it vintage, which was accurate since it had been his grandfathers. The coat was one of his treasured family items he had found in his larger vaults.
When he was satisfied, he knocked on three-oh-two, the centre door.
He could hear some excited muttering from the other side, then some shuffling, and maybe a girl crying out in pain? He touched his fingertips to his wand holster, ready to react.
When the door opened, his brow rose to see a young woman and a girl, but the young woman wasn't the one he had been expecting. This one was a brunette with longer hair in a messy bun. Her jeans screamed muggle, as did her shirt that had a big smiley face on it.
Next to her was a younger girl whose hair was more of a dirty blonde. She looked like a younger Daphne though, so he figured this was her sister, Astoria.
"Well, you do know how to dress up," the brunette commented as her eyes went up and down him.
"Ah, yeah," he said, unsure of the situation. "You look familiar… Davis?" He snapped his fingers. "Tracey Davis."
She looked impressed. "I'm surprised you remember me."
"Bloody Morgana's tits," the girl next to her muttered.
He looked to her. Her hazel blue eyes were wide as saucers as she took him in. "Can I have him if Daffy doesn't want him?"
Tracey rolled her eyes. "You're too young."
The girl laughed, avoiding Tracey's swipe at her. "Daffy! Your man is here!"
Harry gave an inquisitive look to Tracey. "She's only fourteen. We're still training her. It's like a puppy, you know."
Harry laughed at Tracey and the angry look from the younger girl. "I'll take your word for it. Is Daphne home?" he asked her.
Tracey nodded. "Come on in, Harry. She's still getting ready. Tori and I ambushed her with a party when she got home."
He stepped in. "Party?"
The flat was large enough to have a small dining room and a sitting room at the end of the hallway. Streamers, a cake and wrapping paper still littered the dining room. Another hallway led off from the main one.
"Didn't Daph tell you? Today's her nineteenth birthday," Tracey said.
"She forgot to mention that. I would have brought something if I knew," he told her.
"I don't usually celebrate, but these two never listen," Daphne said from down the side hall.
Harry turned. MERLIN! Little black dresses were the best thing ever invented! he screamed to himself. Said dress had a cut out between the top of her chest and the choker like collar, shear sleeves and clung to her, heavily hinting at her modest chest, her nice hips and showing off most of her legs. It didn't show off anything improper, but BLOODY HELL! she was beautiful.
Daphne didn't mind his ogling as she was doing her own. As he took her in, he missed the annoying sister behind Daphne sharing a knowing look with Tracey. Tracey leaned in, silent laughter on her voice, "You can close your mouth before you catch flies."
Harry snapped his mouth shut, his face flushing a little. Disregarding Gabrielle this past few days, he couldn't think of the last time he was this taken with a girl. Daphne had a slight smirk. "I wasn't sure where you were taking me, so I thought this would do."
"Uhm, yeah. That will do," he said, earning him an unimpressed look from Daphne and a snigger from the girls behind her.
"Smooth, Potter," Tracey exasperatedly remarked.
Shaking his head, he pulled himself together. Never had he been so pleased to give into Andi's nagging to dress better. "I'm sorry. You look marvellous. I had thought we were just going to a pub, but you look too good for that."
Daphne looked rather pleased. "Thank you. I assumed when you said drink you also meant dinner?"
"Definitely," he said.
Tracey nudged him. "Well, you two have fun. We won't stay up for you."
"I will. I want to know what happens after you take him… OH BLOODY FUCK, DAPHNE!" Astoria yelled, starting to hop madly behind her.
Daphne glared over her shoulder, glaring at her sister. "You are still going to bed by ten."
"That was my toe," Astoria said through tears. Harry hadn't noticed the nice heels she had on.
Tracey shook her head. "Can you tell they are siblings?"
Harry shrugged. He wouldn't know. "Sure. So, ah, should we go before you take off her other toe?"
"Yes," Daphne said coolly. She moved towards him, taking up a long black coat that went well with the dress. He took it from her and helped her into it. He felt a pleasant thrill go up his arms where his fingers brushed the fabric of her dress and her warmth through it.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't," Tracey said rather suggestively. "Now, if you say please, I'll heal your toe."
Daphne huffed as the door closed.
Harry looked at the door. "Do you trust leaving them here?"
"At least one of them can cast Auqamenti, and I don't mean Tracey. The place should still be here when I get back," she deadpanned. Harry chuckled. "Now, I've only had some birthday cake, so where do you plan to take me?"
Harry grinned. "Happy birthday. I wish I knew."
"I meant it that I don't care to celebrate it," she told him.
"Fair enough," he said, not pushing the issue since he felt much the same. Birthdays just held no special place in his heart. Before he turned seventeen, he had only ever celebrated it twice. Once when Hagrid had given him his first cake and another time at Grimmauld Place. "Do you want to eat Muggle or magical?"
Her amber eyes regarded him for a moment. "Surprise me," she said.
"Is it safe to apparate from here?"
"Here, yes. Down the stairs, no," she told him.
He extended an arm. She fastened the buttons on her coat before wrapping her arm around his. Like the other night at the ministry, it felt rather nice to have her like this. He winked at her, then turned on the spot.
They came out near a streetlamp over a hundred miles north. Daphne clung to his arm so that she didn't over balance in her heels. Harry grabbed her hand with his other to keep her up right.
Looking around, she was surprised to see a line of people across the street, but no one noticed them popping out of nowhere. Harry had a few spots and places he liked and had set up his own little safe spots.
"Where are we?"
"Nottingham."
He watched for cars, leading her across after one passed.
"Why are we in Nottingham?" she enquired.
"It's where I live now. It also has one of my favourite places," he answered.
"And what is this favourite place?" she asked.
"This is Restaurant Saint Germaine."
She looked at the line. Even in the cold December night the place was busy. "This looks like a wait."
Harry grinned at her. "I know people."
She smirked. "Are you saying that you actually use your fame for something?"
"Oh, I use it for many things, but not this," he easily replied. Walking up to the doors, he let her in. Many looked at them. Daphne looked mildly impressed as he walked up to the Matre'd. "Evening, Geoffrey."
An older man looked up. After recognizing Harry, he smiled. "Good evening, Mister Potter. We haven't seen you in a few weeks."
"I've been busy. I think you have a table reserved for me tonight?"
The man didn't even look at the reservation book. "Of course. We got your message earlier. Is this a business meeting, or something else tonight?"
Harry gave a grin that said he was up to mischief and missed the way Daphne's eyes grew intense for a moment. "Something else. This is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, Geoffrey St Germaine, the grandson of the founder of this fine establishment."
The man smiled at Harry. "A pleasure, Miss Greengrass. If you would follow me. Rebecca, please take over for a few."
Daphne clung to his arm, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "I thought you said we were going to a pub?"
He liked her breath on his skin. He leaned in a little more as they followed the man. "I always have contingency plans."
She looked mildly impressed. "And here I thought you only a brash Gryffindor."
He chuckled. "Well, that was one of the choices I had."
She looked intrigued, but waited to say anything as they were led into a small private room with a small table set for two. It was a rather intimate setting. "We have this room reserved, or you can take a table in the Brown Room," the man offered.
Harry looked to Daphne.
"This is good," she said.
"Thank you, Geoffrey, we'll stay here."
"Of course. And may I say, Miss Greengrass, Mister Potter is a fine young man," the man said with a wink, motioning for them to sit. Harry took her jacket and hung it on a hook next to the door, then did the same with his own as Geoffrey held the chair out for her. He couldn't stop himself from watching her smooth the dress over her taught bottom as she sat.
"I'll have Sebastian in here shortly. In the meantime, should I have the bar prepare you something?" the man asked.
"Whatever bitter you have on tap," Harry said.
Daphne looked a little unsure. "Do you have a good wine?"
"We have a splendid collection. Do you know what type you like?
"How about something dry and red?"
The man smiled at her. "I have just the thing."
"Mind as well send the whole bottle. I'll have a wine glass instead," Harry told him. If he knew Geoffrey, the man would be pulling from his private collection.
"Very good, Mister Potter," the man replied before leaving and closing the door. Even with the door closed, you could hear how busy the place was.
Daphne gave him a questioning look. "Business or something else?"
Harry shrugged before giving her a crooked grin. "I take a lot of the people I do business with here. The Saint Germaine's were cursed to produce only squibs except for one magical each generation. My grandfather helped them establish this place. They cater to first generations and those that don't want to really deal with the Wizarding world. Rooms like this are made to cast wards on."
"I can get the business part then. How often do you take people here for something else?" she asked. He felt she was being guarded. He figured it had to do with all the speculation on whether he was a playboy or not.
"Outside of my few friends, you're the first," Harry truthfully said.
Her brow rose, before a satisfied smile crept across her face. "Well, I'll admit it."
He waited a moment before asking, "Admit what?"
"I'm impressed."
Harry chuckled, then dipped his head. "Well, that's half my dastardly plan accomplished."
She gave a small giggle. He liked the sound. "And the other half?"
"I'll let you know when the night ends," he said with a wink.
She gave him a coy smile. "I'm not a girl to shag just anyone that gives me a good night out."
"I wouldn't dream of it. I think I'm more hoping if things go well, you'll say yes to another date," he proposed.
"Perhaps," she said. Was that a hint of hope on her voice as well?
A waiter came in, putting a chilled bottle of wine into a carafe on the table after pouring some, then took their order. When the door closed again, Daphne licked her lips. "Merlin, that is the best wine I've ever had."
Harry laughed. "I come here for a reason."
"If the food is half as good, then you may earn a kiss tonight," she told him.
"Well, that is step one and a half," he coyly remarked.
She chuckled. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?"
"Oh, definitely. So, did you have to go into work today?" he asked.
Daphne sighed. "As part of the restructuring of the ministry, the Muggle Artefacts department has been rolled up into the new Muggle Liaison office. I was hired to work for the Muggle Education department. I thought it would be more of an outreach to prepare Muggles if things got out, or to help bring Muggleborn into our world, but instead we are mostly training wizards on how Muggles actually work," she said. He could hear her exasperation in her tone.
Harry winced. "And how does that go?"
She let out a huff. "Most of the department is still made up of idiot pure and half-bloods that have never spent any time out in the Muggle world aside from waiving their wands to obliviate them when something goes wrong or leaks out. I swear that the Muggle government knows something is going on."
"You aren't the first one I've heard that from," Harry commented. "What happened, if I can ask?"
She huffed. "There was an incident in Crowley, and since I'm the low woman on the totem pole, I'm on call for the holidays."
"That's rough," he commented. Harry did sympathize, but since he really wasn't working what he thought of as a real job, he couldn't fathom being on call like that. "So, what happened in Crawley?"
She rolled her eyes and sat back. Harry enjoyed the way the dress pulled at her chest but tried to keep his eyes higher. "Arthur Weasley. He thinks he's some expert, but he's a bumbling fool. We keep finding enchanted items meant to bate Muggles. This time it was a finger eating electrical socket. He thought it brilliant and tried to remove it while some poor kid was screaming bloody murder. I had to call in a Healer and an Obliviator, then instruct the man on how sockets work and then write him up."
"The poor kid will be in Saint Mungo's for the night. Though, it did find a Muggleborn child that we didn't know about," she commented.
Harry made a face. "Sorry you had such a rough day. Is this happening often?"
"Every few weeks. We can't tell if it is someone actively doing it or it it's items left from the Death Eaters or other supporters. I suspect it's a half-blood, though. The items enchanted are not ones that most wizards would think of," she told him.
"Is there anything I can do? I know the new budget will be debated soon," Harry offered.
"The DMLE needs more experienced investigators. By the way, I blame you for all this," she said, giving him a hard look.
"What did I do?" That was a loaded question.
"It was your law last summer that caused this restructuring. Most of the Muggle Education department are people like me, maybe a year or two out of Hogwarts, but at least most of them are Muggleborn."
"If that is so, how did a pureblood like you end up there?" he asked.
"That annoying best friend of mine," she said, not really sounding annoyed.
"Tracey is a Muggleborn?"
"Her father was. Her mother was my aunt. My father's younger sister, so I learned all about the Muggle world from them," Daphne told him.
"And you ended up in Slytherin?"
Daphne didn't look as pleased. "My mother told me it was important that we ended up there. I think she knew what was coming. Having Tracey and I close to the purebloods would have protected us. That was until you solved the issue."
Harry gave an amused snort. "I don't think anyone has ever referred to it like that."
"It's true. This brings up what you said earlier. What do you mean Gryffindor was one of your options?" she queried, taking up her wine glass.
"The sorting hat thought I would make a good Slytherin," he said.
She stopped before taking a drink. Looking at him, she put to him, "And why didn't you? If you really wanted to bring them down and do what you are doing now, why didn't you go to Slytherin?"
"I met Malfoy on the train and a few people told me all the bad sorts came from Slytherin," Harry told her. He took up his own wine glass.
She made a face. "I can see that."
The talk calmed down at the mention of Draco Malfoy. He was one of the many Harry had killed. He wasn't proud of any of it, but it was a war. Not to mention the berk deserved it for taking the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that night.
After a moment, she remarked, "I saw you in the ministry this morning as I was heading in."
"Yeah. Had to meet with my representative and deal with a few issues," he told her.
A knock came at the door. The waiter brought in a mouthwatering bruschetta and a savoury looking leeks in cheese sauce. Daphne's stomach grumbled. He liked how abashed she looked but didn't comment.
"This looks wonderful," she commented. The waiter put some onto each of their plates.
"I hope you enjoy. Anything else I can get you," the man queried.
"I think we are good," Harry said when Daphne nodded her head.
Daphne leaned over to smell the leeks. After taking a bite, she closed her eyes. "Merlin, Harry, is the main meal as good?"
"Usually better," Harry said, grinning at the way she was enjoying it. "So, that is a nice apartment you have."
"We like it," Daphne replied, spearing another leek and dragging it across her plate to get as much of the sauce on it as possible.
"We?" he asked.
She popped it in her mouth and daintily held a finger to her mouth until she swallowed. "My sister, cousin and I."
"Oh, that must be nice," he said.
"Most of the time. We are all we have left, so it's nice to know they are there every morning," she told him.
He hadn't meant to bring that up. He knew that her parents had been listed as killed in a raid. He hadn't realized that the rest of her family was dead. "I'm sorry," he said.
Daphne put her fork down. "It's not your fault. The Death Eaters attacked our manor in Wessex. Astoria, Tracey and I just got lucky. We were out with Tracey's grandmother that night at the cinema."
He reached across the small table to take her hand. "I'm still sorry. I know how much it can hurt."
She took his hand and squeezed it, not looking up to him. "You killed the bastards. Tori and Tracey are safe. That is all that matters."
He held her hand for a few.
Unsure if this was the end of what was shaping up to be a good evening or not, he tentatively said, "If it means anything, I was still chuckling this morning at what you said to the minister at the party the other night."
She gave him a wry grin, though he could still see she was hurting. "I don't think he enjoyed it very much when I pointed out your old scar is no longer there, and the artist needs to get their eyes checked."
He gave a bit of a forced chuckle. His new scars were more prominent. "Did you know the witch was just behind us?"
Her head shot up, her eyes blazing at him. "She was not!"
"Yep," he said, laughing as she started to curse herself. "If you keep doing that, I might ask you to go to all those things with me. It was far more exciting than usual."
"Complete prat!" she scolded him. Harry noticed she didn't take her hand out of his. "Tell me that was not the sculptor that was behind us?"
Harry grinned at her. "Alright."
Her eyes narrowed. "It was, wasn't it?"
"Yep. She had us all in a few times. I liked how red she got… oi!" he said as she hit his arm after letting his hand go.
"I can't show my face at an event like that again," she told him, looking horrified.
"It was fine, Daphne. The witch was a bit of a stuck-up bint. I meant it, though. It was entertaining and you should come to more of them with me," he told her.
Her brow rose. "You're being serious, aren't you?"
"Well, I know it's not the end of the night, but I was hoping you might like to come with me to a small New Years Eve party?" he suggested.
A small grin crept onto her face. "I might be convinced to go. But you better be a gentleman the rest of the night."
"I always am," he replied, wagging his brow.
"Prat," she huffed.
It was a few hours later that he apparated them back to the top landing of her building. She was laughing at him, having had a little much to drink. "That was a soft pop," she commented.
"I'm all about the pop," he cheekily replied, maybe having had a little too much himself.
"I bet," she teased in a tone that caught his attention. When he turned to look at her, her lids were half closed, a sultry look was on her face, and she licked her lips. Harry sobered enough to lick his own lips in hopeful anticipation.
"I had a good night," she told him.
"I did too," he replied.
"I'm not asking you inside though," she told him. The tenor to her voice had his loins stirring.
"I wouldn't ask. Not on the first date," he said.
She nodded as though satisfied. Moving in, he thought she was going to kiss him. He closed his eyes, surprised when her lips only pressed against his cheek, remarkably close to his mouth. "Maybe next time," she longingly said.
Harry wanted to groan. "Maybe next time," he agreed.
"New Years Eve?" she asked, sounding a little uncertain.
"Eight?"
"Sounds good," she said.
"Dress more casual. It's nothing fancy. Just some friends and family getting together," he told her.
She gave him a rather pleasant smile. "Alright. I'll see you then."
He watched as she moved back, fumbled with the door and hung his head to get the bulge down in his pants from watching her in that dress. He swore that shouldn't be legal what something like that did to a guy.
-oOo-
Next time on the Angels of the Black Knight: A drama filled New Year's Eve…