Resolutions

Harry, in jeans, went home to London by international portkey, handed Daphne the suitcase and nodded to her, "I'm off to erm… find something to make a commitment with."

"Something?"

"Ring-ish," said Harry, "Hypothetically."

Daphne visibly, even under all that foundation, blushed. "Your things are in here too," she said.

"Drop them off tonight," said Harry. He went home and put on warmer clothes.

His Gringotts vault had a large pile of things added since he'd last seen it, trunks, picture frames, boxes and bags, presumably from the Blacks. But not much money; there was less than when he'd been a child. And after hours of searching, and many detection spells, he had an old ring, with some sort of curse on it. The 'stone' was a cracked black pearl. Presumably, being damaged and cursed, the goblins had not bothered to take it as part of his fines for erm… robbing Gringotts.

Harry definitely didn't use an Elder wand he definitely didn't have, but he had an invisibility cloak, and that let him slip onto Hogwarts grounds undetected from the forest, and over to the white marble tomb. He knew many cleaning charms, which has just as well, as anything that smelt so badly of putrefying human was totally unhygienic. And while a Holly wand isn't a very dark colour at all, quite white-ish, Elder, as a wood, is about the same colour. But, obviously, it was carved with berries, so it looked quite different. Harry pocketed the wand he didn't want to use very often, and went home. In the back of the library, he used that wand to burn out the curse on the broken ring, which still looked like it belonged to a dark old family. It did, really. A repair-charm on the pearl fused it back together, and a colour-change charm changed it to a very specific, incredibly familiar Caribbean blue. But that looked awkwardly cheap, so Harry vanished the pearl, and went off to find a muggle jeweller in London.

"I'd like a new stone on an old family ring," said Harry to the shop assistant in the first store.

The actual jeweller came out, a thirty-something year-old woman in glasses with blonde dreadlocks, and Harry put the ring on the counter. Clonk went the surprisingly heavy gold band.

"That's… odd," they said, picking it up and checking it with a loupe. "What did it have?"

"A black pearl. It had cracked," said Harry.

"I can source a black pearl," said the jeweller.

"I'd rather have a stone," said Harry, "Something about the same size."

"That would be… about seven carats. Which is quite large for a gem of any kind," said the jeweller.

"Yes," said Harry. "However, the ring is pure gold."

"Which will not wear well."

"Yet, it is a few centuries old," said Harry, taking out his Gringotts card. It was labelled as HSBC, but it worked at shops, so Harry tried not to think about it. Harry suspected that being 'amex' it just worked at shops.

"I'd have to order the stone in," she said. Harry nodded, filled in a card, and the card and ring went in a zip-lock bag. "Give me a week." she said. "Are you sure you don't want a natural gem?"

"Oh no, I think I'd like a nice new stone," said Harry, "Today by preference."

"And your fiancée would be satisfied with synthetic?" said the jeweller "It will only be a few hundred pounds."

"The stone is a stone," said Harry, "and we spent ten thousand on a holiday; I think economising on a stone is quite prudent."

"Where on earth?" asked the Jeweller, incredulously.

"Hawaii for two weeks, all expense paid," said Harry, with a shrug. "It was utterly wonderful, and the ring is an old family ring, so the value is in the meaning."

"It will break, it's too soft."

"I'm sure we'll cope," said Harry, envisaging charming it imperturbable with the Elder Ring at some point. "Today."

"I could… take a stone from another piece?"

"Well if I was you, I'd do that then," said Harry. He stood and waited pointedly for the ring to be repaired, because having spent so much time at work himself, he had little time for anyone that worked less than twenty-four hours at a stretch. Bunch of casuals. Not that Harry was judgemental.

-=0=-

"Harry?" Daphne called out up the stairs at Grimmauld place.

"I'm in here," said Harry, from the library.

Daphne arrived, dropping the suitcase at the door.

"Mother wanted to know were a ring was?"

Harry took it out of his pocket. "Ring. Old Black family ring, new stone."

"Emerald?" she asked, and came much closer. "Hmm," she said.

Harry charmed the ring imperturbable, and asked "What colour?"

"It's an emerald, it's green," said Daphne.

"We can colour-change it," said Harry. "I am tempted by Caribbean blue."

"That would be a sapphire."

Harry tapped the stone with his wand, and the stone went Caribbean blue.

"Yet, it's an emerald," he said, and he cast a protective charm on the ring, and a protective charm on the protective charm.

"If you would, I have a ring for you?" asked Harry.

"This is slightly silly, you know?" said Daphne, lifting her eyebrows a little.

Harry held Daphne's hand anyway, and slid the ring onto her ring finger. It resized to fit.

Daphne lifted it up and eyed it. "I think the colour needs work." she said.

Harry drew the Elder wand, and transfigured the stone into a cloudy green, and cast a few more protective charms.

"Did you just blow off two protective charms? And what's with that wand?"

"It's… an old family wand," said Harry truthfully. "Good for big jobs."

"That's the sodding Elder wand, isn't it?" asked Daphne, pulling her hand back, and looking carefully at the stone on her finger. "It looks far more like stones I've seen now," she said. "You actually have it. You fibber."

"Well it's not like I'm insisting on you wearing an Ottoman collar," said Harry. "There is a really ugly old family ring we had to break, but trust me, you don't want it, or the stone it had."

"Uhuh," said Daphne. "So you'll never wear a Potter family ring?"

"To be honest, I never had any, even before the trouble with Gringotts. All I had was money," said Harry.

"Oh. But the Potters have been around for a long time, really."

"Yes, but also, we um… don't, didn't do heirloom rings. Only heirloom I've got is a rather nice cloak."

"And that wand"

"Well, yes, that too." said Harry.

"Did you take the wand from Professor Dumbledore?"

"Technically, no," said Harry, "I gave it to Professor Dumbledore."

"You gave Professor Dumbledore a wand, that's a lot like the wand he had at school," said Daphne with a head tilt that suggested she doubted him.

"Well he had it then, he was buried with it, and Voldemort did some grave-robbing," said Harry "I got it from Voldemort once I'd killed him, and well, put it in a grave for a while."

"You can be quite weird sometimes," said Daphne. "You really should have a family ring. Surely there must be something?"

"I'll, um, get something from storage," said Harry "Have you seen all the rooms yet?"

A bit later Daphne remarked, bent over a bed on the fourth floor, that he should have redecorated. Harry pulled her onto the bed and snogged her instead.

"I will have a lot of work making this place nice," panted Daphne later, wearing very few clothes, but holding Harry. "The ceiling's got cracks."

The next day, just after breakfast, in the kitchen, Daphne arrived by floo. Harry showed her a very clunky ring with a very plain black stone, with a big scratch, almost a break in the band.

"The Blacks," said Daphne, grimacing "had atrocious taste in jewellery."

"It's an erm, old family ring. My family, well, extended family. Not Blacks."

"Does it even have a crest?" asked Daphne.

"Sort of," said Harry, holding the ring up to her nose "It's quite old, so it's just scratched into the stone."

"That's an atrocious quality jet. Looks more like a pebble from a river" she said.

"Well, like I said, been in the family for um, I dunno, eight hundred, nine hundred years."

"Oh god. That's… so old you almost have to excuse anything," said Daphne.

"Trust me, family did excuse anything," quipped Harry.

"Well, it goes on your pinky," she said. "I suppose given the size of ring, maybe index finger"

"I could have really big hands," protested Harry. Daphne simply lifted her eyebrows. The ugly ring fit reasonably on his thumb. Which could, conceivably be handy if you wanted, to, for example, rotate the ring three times clockwise.

"So, is it even enchanted?" asked Daphne.

"Oh a bit," said Harry, fiddling with it. Three times.

The parlour at Grimmauld filled with pale, silvery spectres.

"A bit?" asked Daphne with a quaver in her voice, "are we in any danger?"

"No, do you remember the tale of the three brothers?" asked Harry. Daphne looked around the room, and one of the spectres looked a bit like Harry. Another, like Professor Lupin. Harry fiddled with the ring, and the spectres faded away.

"What the hell was that?" asked Daphne.

"Resurrection stone. Well, the real stone, not the legend," said Harry. "Peverells had it. I'm… well distantly related to them through the Potters. I also have this heirloom invisibility cloak."

"You're joking."

"Sort-of the last descendant of a very old, very dark family," said Harry. "Which helped a bit in the war. The rest, you'll have to use your imagination."

"Oh," said Daphne, putting a hand to her throat in surprise. "So you'd… dress the part?"

"Depends?" asked Harry, trying not to blush. Daphne smiled a little, "You pervert," she said, hammily. Harry stifled a grin, and shrugged.

"You don't have to, or anything."

"I had to sleep on my own last night," said Daphne, embracing Harry; her hair smelt of her hair-product and Harry inhaled deeply. "It was very lonely and boring," she added.

Harry kissed her softly. "I missed you too."

"It's been a day."

"Which is too long," said Harry.

"Well, you'd need some robes that were tailored a bit differently," said Daphne thoughtfully.

Harry apparated them both to the other fourth floor bedroom, and opened the wardrobe. He pulled out a dark black robe with a stiff collar.

"Harry, where'd you get these?" she asked.

"Black family – youngest son's things," said Harry "Lets say, for mysterious dark reasons he died in the first war."

"Try it on?" said Daphne. Harry pulled it on over his clothes and fiddled with the buttons – Daphne adjusted the fabric a little, and did up some side-buttons. "It's little short" she said, and cast a charm on the hem that lengthened it just enough. "Learnt that living in Europe and not going shopping" she said. "Your hair, it's … well messy."

"Gimme a minute, there's probably sleekeezys in the bathroom cupboard." said Harry. He walked out messy-haired, and came back with sleek black hair, in quite formal dark robes, looking expressionless. Who says bad occulamancy's worthless.

"Miss Greengrass," he said. Daphne put a hand to her neck immediately, "Mr Potter" she gasped.

"I find you in my house, in one of the rooms guests are not allowed in. Come with me." said Harry.

Daphne blushed, but stopped in the bathroom to drop off a small bag from a space expanded pocket.

"A few things," she remarked, and almost skipped to the other bedroom.

"So you want me to dress like this on weekends?"

"Evenings," said Daphne.

"Miss Greengrass?" said Harry more formally, "You are wearing entirely too many clothes?"

Unfortunately for Harry that made Daphne decide to remove them suggestively. Extremely suggestively. Three minutes later she was naked and pouting on the bed, and Harry felt a little faint.

"Bloody hell Daphne," said Harry, getting rid of his clothes. "You could give bloke a heart attack."

Daphne spread her legs across the bed "My first husband did die of a heart attack," she said coquettishly. "I'm sure you'll be fine." Harry swallowed with difficulty.

Three days later, Harry was lying in bed with Daphne, both of them under the covers, holding her, and nuzzling her ear. "Work have training classes tomorrow," he said "So I won't have all day with you."

"Well, I do have a business to run," she said.

"You probably should um, see if you can get one of the other girls to work at your shop," suggested Harry gently "so you can spend more time being the boss."

"And coincidentally saving someone."

"That's your decision; you know that business, you know the girls." said Harry "It's just, I've got classes six days a week till the new hospital year, and I um, brought you something."

Daphne rolled over in the bed and looked him straight in the eyes "What?"

"Um, NEWT prep and study guides, model exams," said Harry "so you could um, you know, get some qualifications, learn some more advanced magic."

"But you probably don't even know what elective courses I took," said Daphne huskily.

"I got all of them, and you can easily get OWLs in the ones you didn't take."

"What, twelve NEWTs?" asked Daphne.

"You're smart, and I think you could do it," said Harry. "You're running a bank after all."

"It's a very small bank," said Daphne. "And I do have quite a bit of leg work to do."

"Conveniently," said Harry, "you have great legs."

"Are you trying to ensure I'm too busy to stray for the next several years?" she asked softly.

"Well, hoping to prevent the press being able to make out that you're stupid for not having NEWT's" said Harry "And you have learnt complicated spells, I just… I don't want people claiming my wife is some pretty, dumb blonde."

"Your wife?" asked Daphne, lifting a single eyebrow.

"Um. Yes," said Harry "Daphne Potter, owner of a muggle bank, part-owner of The Witches Pocket shop, and eventually inheriting the Greengrass family's estate and business."

"And yours?" asked Daphne.

"Well, if your cousins can sort it out. Oh, and um, there's loads of Weasleys, but more significantly, Bill, the oldest, got tons of NEWTs. He's a curse-breaker. He's got a small child, but he could tutor a lot of things."

"Why would he help me?" asked Daphne

"Well, because his wife, Fleur Delacour is also rather clever, and could quite happily have another clever female friend… and she thinks I'm okay. I think, she'd think you were worthy; and significantly, she doesn't like Ginny that much. It's mutual, and I think you speak French?"

"Harry, that's very thoughtful of you," said Daphne. "However, I feel… less than fully satisfied?"

Harry got right on that. Half an hour later Daphne was a panting, sweating mess.

"You," she panted, "are a workout, Harry Potter." Harry felt that was quite mutual.

-=0=-

Before Daphne would let word of their unofficial engagement slip, she decided they should have an official engagement. And coincidentally that came with a big old contract.

"What the hell, Daphne?" asked Harry, eyeing a pile of parchment thicker than one of Hermione's sixth year essays.

"Betrothal contract, quite sensible. I got your lawyer to write it," said Daphne.

"You did?"

"Well Mafalda insisted on goss too, but I left out the steamy bits," said Daphne.

Harry swallowed. Oh god, no.

"She did make some specious claims that you were a lousy shag, but I think that's just that she's a sore loser," said Daphne.

"You know?"

"Knew. She didn't exactly keep it a secret. Terrance told me about her decision to break up with you. Which was quite lucky for me," she said. And smiled sweetly.

"So, um, you hypothetically um know why?"

"Well, to be honest, Maffy had a bit of a complex about being a rebound girl for her cousin Ginny. Though you at least didn't say her name in bed, I suppose. But really, they're similar looking, people would have laughed at you."

Harry felt naked, and not in a good way.

"She um, was jealous of you,"

"Terrance mentioned that, yes" said Daphne. "She should be, I really am stunning."

Harry felt a flicker of unease. That case of MAN she had was getting worse. Well, the case of MAD she totally didn't have was getting worse. Although she had a point. She was stunning.

Harry tried to think about a way to negotiate for her to, well, get treatment for her MAD, and could think of nothing. And there was this massive engagement contract to deal with too.

"And, what's in it?" he asked.

"Just basic stuff, it's the marriage contract too," said Daphne lightly, "details who owns what, who controls which assets, and what happens in the unlikely event we were to divorce. Also, in the event of either, or both of us dying, it's also a will."

"And that's your idea of an engagement contract?" asked Harry.

"Well, I don't want anything to go wrong. We can call it off until we get married, not harm done, and um… Harry… getting married for me is um… it brings up all sorts of horrible memories," said Daphne.

Harry gave her a hug. "It's okay. You're with me," said Harry. "We're not like that."

"Mmm," Daphne snuggled up to Harry.

"So, just for argument's sake?" asked Harry "where are the bits you put in to mess with me?"

"I would never," said Daphne. Harry kissed her slowly.

"Page thirty-four," she whispered.

Harry held it behind Daphne and read it while she snuggled up to him.

Page thirty-four had… 'Naming of issue. The party of the second part to have final say in all naming of issue.'

"You're the party of the second part?" asked Harry.

"Mhmm," Daphne agreed.

"I don't get to name the issue? What's that?"

"Children," said Daphne "You were raised muggle, and might do something gauche like name them after people still alive, or your parents."

"Them?"

"Well, that's a negotiation. I expect we might, in the fullness of time have children," said Daphne.

Harry imagined Daphne holding a little baby mini-Daphne and kissing it's hopefully little nose. The idea seemed… well the idea of a little mini-Daphne felt cute, and Harry's stomach warmed to it, though the getting-there part might be a bit fraught – at least she could do it safely now. And, he mused, there were options, especially using some muggle techniques.

"You're not averse to that?" asked Daphne. "You're looking all gooey." She frowned "Are you expecting to just knock me up? We're not married yet."

"No, um… practice?" asked Harry.

"Practice sounds very sensible," said Daphne, blushing slightly.

"There's not any of the um… weird stuff you talked about when you first came to St Mungo's in this is there?" asked Harry.

"No" said Daphne, "I was just… desperate for a cure for Tori."

"So um… sleepover tonight?" asked Harry. She poked him. "No" she replied. "Not till we're married."

Harry whispered in her ear. Daphne blushed. "Fine, it'll encourage you I suppose."

After, making an impassioned, somewhat licky argument, Harry wrote a very hastily written draft amendment; that Daphne would be carefully transfigured back to basically normal, and wouldn't use an undirected transfiguration to change herself back, no matter the social situation.

"Are you sure you want me to be less gorgeous?" she asked, thankfully wearing a dressing-gown.

"I um, it's for your health, darling, and um, the sake of your mental health. Carrying on this way could um, risk your sense of humour, and that would be terrible!"

Daphne blinked, wide-eyed, and overacted a little "You like my sense of humour?" she asked.

"Your um, mind is actually one of the most attractive things about you" said Harry boldly.

Daphne gaped. "Oh god" she said "So, hypothetically, in two hundred years when I'm all wrinkles and my boobs have fallen to my waist, you'd still want me?"

Harry doubted either of those things would happen, and the thought of an old Daphne holding his hand as he watched legions of cute little grand-child Daphne's play, while their beautiful children watched felt like… Harry realised that um, yes, actually he'd like a family, and that being grandpa Harry or great-grandpa Harry would be fantastic. He could hand out toffee, and spoil little boys and girls. And she'd be there, making the world nicer. Yes, that was what he wanted.

Also, not being fired, and then tried for enabling a patient to get life-threatening levels of Magically Assisted Narcissism would be a good idea.

Being the resident expert on someone's figure, the next evening, using the very helpful photo in pink lingerie Daphne had brought on her first visit to him, Harry got her back to 'standard', but didn't bother, for example more than slightly adjusting her bum downwards – hypothetically just adding a little plumpness to make up for her generally very exercised tone, and put fat back on her stomach. While her six-pack had been novel, a soft curve suited her better (the six-pack had far less subcutaneous fat than the rest of her body, and he gently prodded to get the same depth.) . And he was fairly sure the bra-size matched. Daphne helpfully changed into the pink set, (unhelpfully removing the blue set she'd bee wearing by stripping out of it,) and after he used his rudimentary occulamancy to get his mind back on the job, Harry could check carefully, quite convinced Daphne was cheerily torturing him. Minor adjustments complete, Daphne counter-signed the amendment, then eyed herself in the mirror, standing on tip-toes, which Harry felt was probably less cruel than her putting on heels and strutting.

"I look so natural" she said, striking a few poses. "You really have a very… expert touch," she added huskily "I like it, I look fine."

"You can hardly see where the money went" said Harry.

"Oh don't be a fusspot. This is practically how I looked at seventeen" she said, putting his dressing gown on, and Harry wondered how you got a time-turner. Because she'd been single at Hogwarts, if extremely shy. And all he'd have to do was… defeat Voldemort in fifth year. He blinked, and realised he was being silly. The girl was here, in lingerie, and prepared to marry him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, pinching his slippers too.

"Oh nothing," said Harry.

-=0=-

"So, why does Greengrass wear high collars all the time?" asked Hermione.

"Hickeys," said Harry blandly.

"Is that medically safe?"

"Quite safe," said Harry.

"Oh. I thought it was some really stuffy pureblood thing," said Hermione.

Harry shook his head.

"You know… she seems… very prim," said Hermione. Harry tried not to choke.

"And all those layers of clothes can't be comfortable," Hermione added.

"Layers?" asked Harry.

"The Robe and the under-robe and then five layers of underwear" said Hermione "I told Madame Malkin that there was no way I was wearing all that."

"Um, yeah," said Harry, desperately trying not to think about what Daphne wore under her frumpy robes. Clear your mind – think of nothing. Which didn't help, for obvious reasons.

His hands shook. He was fine.

-=0=-

Mrs Daphne Greengrass was perfectly happy keeping her surname, as it turned out. There were tiresome legal issues with family inheritances as well. Harry shrugged. He might have been mentally in Hawaii at the time.