Vedros
patreon
The Feathered Serpent: Chapter 19
🕑 Added 2024-03-14 16:30:01 +0000 UTCThe slight chill against her back made Daphne stir, a sleepy groan escaping her lips as she blindly reached out to pull the duvet tighter around them. The warmth enveloping her front was soothing, and she burrowed deeper into the embrace, smiling contentedly when the arms around her tightened protectively.
“The cold wake you up, babe?” Harry murmured, planting a tender kiss on the crown of her head.
“Mmm, not really,” she mumbled, her even breaths tickling the skin of his neck. “Just don’t wanna get up yet.”
A fond smile curved Harry's mouth as he drew her closer, savoring the shared cocoon of warmth on this bitterly cold morning.
It was over an hour later when a fully refreshed Harry and Daphne emerged from their room, descending the stairs hand in hand. The Flamels were already awake, and Perenelle glanced up with a warm smile as the young couple approached.
“Come, have a seat,” she said kindly, gesturing toward the chairs as she prepared their breakfast. Daphne quickly moved to assist her while Harry turned his attention to Nicholas, who was engrossed in the French wizarding newspaper, Le Messager Magique.
“Anything interesting in there?”
Nicholas snorted derisively. “Nah, lad. The same rubbish as always. Election season is coming so it’s the usual shit-slinging by the politicians.”
“Must you be so crass first thing in the morning, dear?” Perenelle chided her husband gently without glancing up from scoring the fresh baguette.
“Why are you doing it like that?” Nicholas retorted, watching his wife manually score the baguette. “Aren’t you a witch?”
“I find it relaxing. That’s why,” she replied serenely. Harry and Daphne exchanged an amused look.
Nicholas rolled his eyes and turned back to Harry. Sighing, he continued, “What was I saying? Ah, yes… elections are in June and the candidates are hard at trashing their opponents. It’s all honestly too tiresome for me to keep up with.”
“You don’t like politics? Not gonna lie, you look like you’d be right at home with those stuffed robes,” Harry remarked.
“Never judge a book by its cover, lad. And what’s that supposed to mean? That I look like one of those pompous morons?” Nicholas asked sharply. Harry shrugged with an unapologetic grin.
“Back when I used to be young, I had my fair share of political experiences. One thing I’ve realized is that life’s much better the further you distance yourself from that cesspool of lies and deception,” Nicholas remarked. “It’s so much more peaceful staying away from that mess. One might not realize it but that garbage takes a huge toll on your mind the deeper you get tangled with it.”
A weighted silence fell over the room as Harry and Daphne exchanged a meaningful look, their expressions sobering. They both knew the depths to which they were already involved—and how much further they might still have to go. Nicholas's words hit uncomfortably close to home.
“Don’t you think it’s necessary though?” Harry asked carefully after a moment, turning back to Nicholas. “If you are politically savvy enough, you could collect information to gain leverage over others or a position of power to make a positive changes.”
To their surprise, Nicholas released a derisive snort of laughter.
“Ah, I should remember you are still a young teenager not well-versed in how the world truly works,” the old alchemist chuckled, patting his shoulder in a grandfatherly manner. “Let me tell you what truly happens, lad. A person gets himself involved with politics and the obvious path is acquiring a position of power. This person might start out with noble intentions but politics is a filthy game that drags everyone down the mud eventually, no matter how pure at heart you might be.”
His gaze grew distant, centuries of memories flickering before his eyes.
“It almost always goes one of two ways,” Nicholas continued gravely. “Either the person becomes as slimy as the sleazebags around them, using the people around him for furthering his goals, all the while telling himself he’s doing it ‘for the greater good’… Or they lose sight of their original purpose completely, getting obsessed with clinging to power at any cost, refusing to give up even a shred of it for any reason or cause. Politics spares no one, lad. Always remember that.”
“Even if someone manages to hold on to their morals?” Daphne asked, handing Harry his plate with a pensive frown.
“Your morality is what you name it, dear,” Nicholas sighed heavily. “Your ‘morals’ become whatever you use to justify your actions in your mind. The truly evil recognize it for what it is, reveling in their depravity, while the misguided hypocrites twist their principles and keep justifying their actions by calling them necessary. Believe an old man who’s seen and been through a lot in his centuries old life—a life without politics is incomparable to one infested with that stagnant cesspool. You have the people you love around you and enough resources to ensure your happiness. What more do you need in your life?”
An uneasy silence descended as Harry and Daphne picked at their breakfast, their minds churning over Nicholas's solemn words. Despite their best efforts, they could not help but draw parallels to their own increasingly tangled circumstances ever since crossing paths with the group known as The Hierarchy at Hogwarts.
“I know your standing in the British Wizarding Society,” Nicholas continued, earning their attention once again. “Potters and Greengrasses hold hereditary seats on the Wizengamot and both houses have produced remarkable wizards over the centuries who earned the respect of their political peers in whichever era they were born in. I know the weight of responsibilities on your shoulders must be immense, and the pressure to succeed and emerge on top. However…”
He fixed them with an intent look, his ageless eyes boring into theirs.
“I’d caution you against letting politics bleed into your personal parts of your lives. Friends, family, loved ones… keep those sacred, separate from any political games or motivations.”
Harry and Daphne stared contemplatively at their half-eaten plates, the weight of Nicholas's wisdom sinking in around them.
“You will carry a heavy burden one day, simply because of who you are,” Perenelle intoned softly. “We already know Voldemort isn’t truly dead. He might have failed this time but it would be foolish to assume he’ll never succeed. You must work under the assumption that he will certainly gain a body back. Once he does, it isn’t too hard to predict what his plans would be.”
“Come after me.” Harry muttered gravely. “Pick up where he left off.”
Daphne frowned and took his hand under the table, squeezing supportively.
“You have little choice but to involve yourselves in the turbulent politics of your country. It is unfortunately an integral part of your future and it would be a folly to not get involved,” Perenelle continued. “But as Nick just said, do not let it rule your life, and for all that is sacred, never let it come between the two of you.”
As one, Daphne and Harry turned toward Perenelle who stared back firmly.
“You will need each other for the challenges ahead. The love and bond you two share will be your biggest strength. Do not let anything, or anyone, pollute or corrupt that,” Perenelle continued. “You have a very long life ahead for yourselves. There will come a time when your obligations are fulfilled, and you can find some peace and comfort with your loved ones again. Until then, make the best of everything at your disposal. That is the best any of us can do.”
Harry and Daphne turned back to each other, hands still joined, their eyes shining with a renewed sense of conviction. No words were needed—they had long since sworn a vow to safeguard their relationship above all else in the face of the mounting conflicts that threatened to engulf them. Politics would never be permitted to come between their love.
Several weighted minutes ticked by before the roar of the floo flaring to life shattered the contemplative silence. Dumbledore stepped gracefully through the emerald flames, immediately catching sight of the young couple.
“Seems you two are ready to be leaving today,” Nicholas remarked, smiling.
“Thanks, really, for everything you two did for us,” Harry said respectfully.
A warm smile crinkled the corners of Nicholas’ eyes as he clasped Harry’s shoulder, squeezing firmly.
“Keep that brave heart of yours, lad,” he said gruffly. “Take care of your dear lady, and power through whatever comes your way. Dark times are on the horizon, lad.”
“I will,” Harry replied, his tone resolute as he pulled his Daphne close, returning her loving smile.
“No need to thank us, Harry,” she smiled gently. “And don’t you worry about this either. We’ll find a way.”
Harry closed his eyes as the old woman stroked his forehead right where the scar was. His eyes opened when she pulled away and he smiled, nodding.
"And you as well, my dear," Perenelle said, rising to stroke Daphne's cheek in an almost grandmotherly fashion. "Look after each other—and do not hesitate to write if you need us. You'll always have allies here."
"We will," Daphne promised, leaning into the tender caress.
"Good girl."
With a final, proud smile, Perenelle turned to where Dumbledore waited patiently. The esteemed wizard inclined his head respectfully to his former mentors, and they returned the gesture. Then, with a swirl of emerald fire, student and teacher were gone, leaving the Flamels alone once more.
Nicholas moved to stand beside his wife, draping an arm around her slender shoulders as they stared into the flickering hearth. A weighted silence stretched between them, rife with unvoiced concerns for the trials looming ahead.
"They have a fighting chance, you know," he said at last, his ancient eyes haunted. "More than most, at any rate."
Perenelle did not reply, simply leaning her silvered head against his shoulder as the flames danced, casting their wizened forms in an ethereal glow.
Whether that chance would be enough... Only time would tell.
XXXXX
Harry and Daphne stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off their clothes as they walked over to the large desk in the center of the room. Dumbledore took his seat and gestured for them to join him.
“I trust you had a productive time with the Flamels?”
“We did,” Harry stated, pursing his lips before giving a curt nod.
“It really surprised us. For people who are over 600, they still have modern viewpoints. You’d expect people from that era to have some pretty outdated views,” Daphne remarked calmly.
Dumbledore smiled benignly.
“Nicholas and Perenelle might have withdrawn from the mainstream world, but they are far from ignorant. For centuries, they have traveled the globe, immersing themselves in different cultures. This has allowed them an intimate understanding of how the society has evolved on a very personal level and form opinions that make the most sense.”
“It must be lonely, though,” Daphne mused. “I didn’t ask, as it might have come off as impolite, but they must have seen all their friends and family die while they continue to live on. I can’t imagine it would’ve been a pleasant experience.”
With a sigh, Dumbledore leaned back, gazing out the window.
“That is, unfortunately, the price one pays for a long life,” he replied, his voice carrying a tinge of melancholy to it. “They have lived longer than anyone else. However, I truly believe they accepted it a long time ago.”
A moment of silence ensued, broken when Harry sought Dumbledore’s attention.
“Yes, Harry?”
“I plan on getting something done today,” Harry stated, his eyes affixed to the rings on his fingers. Daphne and Dumbledore followed his gaze and he felt his girlfriend take his other hand beneath the desk. “When you gave me these rings, you told me to visit Gringotts to ask about the Black vault—their finances, contracts, anything else I might find.”
Dumbledore nodded. “The students would be arriving later this evening. Technically, the holidays are still underway. You may visit the goblins if you want. There is no need to ask for permission.”
Harry nodded curtly once again and Dumbledore stifled a sigh. It seemed the young man still harbored resentment over him allowing Tom to remain in the castle while he was possessing Quirinus—understandable, from Harry’s perspective.
“All right,” Harry replied, looking hesitant before sighing. “And thank you for arranging our time with the Flamels. We learned a lot from them this past week.”
“Think nothing of it,” Dumbledore smiled. “And rest assured, we will find a way to deal with that scar permanently. Until then, you know what you must do.”
"Occlumency, I know. I’ve been working on it ever since I read about it in my parents’ journals," Harry replied.
"Indeed. And although traditional methods do yield result, I believe there is a way for you to learn it better than anyone else."
Curious, both Harry and Daphne stared at Dumbledore, who gazed back at them gravely.
"You have my word that no other method of learning Occlumency is as effective and fast as the one I'm about to propose," Dumbledore began.
"But?" Daphne asked keenly. "There's always a 'but,' right?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Quite right. There is an individual I know, and I am not exaggerating when I say his mastery of the art far exceeds anyone else's, including mine and even Tom's."
Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow, curious.
"I'm referring to Severus."
"You know the man doesn't exactly like me, right?" Harry drawled, staring at the old wizard, unimpressed. "And you expect me to let him into my mind?"
"Sometimes we need to put aside petty grievances to do what is necessary," Dumbledore intoned calmly. "Severus is the most proficient Occlumens I have ever known, and although unorthodox, his method would be the fastest way to build mastery over the art."
"Suppose we even agree, what would it entail?" Daphne asked shrewdly, her eyes narrowed.
"The method is crude, and I won't deny, it would sound brutish," Dumbledore replied. "Severus's method of Occlumency would require him to forcibly attempt an intrusion into your mind, and you would try to repel him until you can do so at a moment's notice."
"Are you serious, Headmaster?" Daphne asked in disbelief. "You want him to keep hammering away at Harry's mind until he learns how to repel him? Forgive me, sir, but that sounds rather dangerous."
"The brightest diamonds are formed in the hottest furnaces, Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore intoned calmly as he stared at Harry, who gazed back evenly. "Hard times breed better men. I am not denying that there are other methods for learning Occlumency that are more relaxed and pleasant than the one I have suggested, but believe me, for the best and quickest result, there is no better method than this brutal approach."
A terse silence fell as Harry seriously pondered Dumbledore's suggestion.
"Consider the process of learning to walk," Dumbledore continued. "You slowly start crawling on your hands and knees, then try walking with support. Very gradually, once your legs get used to supporting your weight, you take baby steps. However, your mind is not that of a toddler. You have a conscience and a sense of self. You are, if I'm not mistaken, already on your way to learning Occlumency. Your mind does not need adjustment; you have gone through enough recently to gain a head start and begin learning Occlumency in the best possible way."
Harry remained silent for a few moments before turning to the conflicted Daphne.
"This was the last thing I thought about when I woke up today," he said slowly before facing Dumbledore again. "But let me tell you this, Headmaster... I'll think about it."
Nothing else remained to be said, and Dumbledore watched as the two students, holding hands, gave him curt nods and walked out of the office. He leaned back and released a deep breath, his lips set in a thin line.
He knew he had lost a lot of their trust, deservedly so, and he knew he needed it back.
XXXXX
“Talk to me,” Harry said gently, taking Daphne’s hand as he gazed into her eyes. With pursed lips, Daphne sighed.
“I really don’t think you should agree to this,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “Forcing yourself to go through all that pain, just for a shortcut… No, Harry. I don’t like it one bit.”
“You heard what Dumbledore said,” Harry remarked. “There’s no better way to learn Occlumency as effectively as this one.”
“I know, but Snape?” Daphne’s grip tightened on his hand. “We both know that guy can’t stand you. Who’s to say he won’t abuse this privilege? Use it as an opportunity to mess with you somehow? You get what this would involve, right? Snape will be poking around your head. I know we both don’t want him seeing your memories.”
The carriage rocked on the cobblestone path leading to Hogsmeade as Harry fell silent, contemplating her words.
“Look,” Daphne said eventually, her tone softening. “I I get why this method could be useful. As harsh as it is, I'd even do it myself. But not with Snape. No way, Harry. You can't put yourself through that with him!”
Harry sighed. "Okay, then what do you suggest? We know what's at stake here. If there's a good solution out there, we gotta take it, right?"
"And we will," Daphne agreed. "Both of us. Just not with Snape involved. That's where I draw the line. Dumbledore thinks he's like, the Occlumency master or whatever, and maybe he is. But he's not getting into your head - or mine."
“Then I guess we need to find another expert,” Harry replied. “You know anyone else good enough?”
Daphne got a thoughtful look. “No… but…”
“Hmm?”
“What if… we just practiced on each other?”
Harry shook his head. “Too risky. We might screw up and make a mess of the entire situation if we’re not careful.”
“But how’d Snape learn then? Dumbledore says he’s the best Occlumens out there, right? Someone must’ve been messing with his head to get him that good at defending it.”
“We don’t know the details,” Harry replied, frowning. “But based on what Dumbledore said, I guess so. It must’ve been quite an Occlumens attacking him if he became so good at it.”
“And that’s another thing that bugs me about this approach,” Daphne’s gaze met his, unwavering. “You’ve seen how Snape is. We both have. Can you honestly tell me you want to end up being like that guy?”
A soft chuckle escaped Harry’s lips as he pulled her close. “Babe, his attitude might be crap but that’s just how he is. That irritating personality has always been there. After all, according to my Dad’s journals, he’s always been a bit prickly.”
“Those are kinda biased accounts though,” Daphne pointed out. “Your Dad didn’t seem too objective about him.”
“Fair point,” Harry conceded with a shrug. “But my Mum used to be mates with Snape, since their childhood, in fact. Her take on him isn’t as harsh and vindictive, just… honest. You’re read what she wrote about him too.”
Daphne nodded. She certainly had.
“Alright, fine. His Occlumency training didn’t turn him into a complete jerk. But still- the point remains. We need to find someone just as skilled, if not more, than Snape. Someone who we can actuallt trust to help us out.”
Harry nodded solemnly. “And if we can’t find someone like that?”
Daphne sighed heavily. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The carriage rolled to a stop a few seconds later and they emerged from it. There was a thick layer of snow blanketing the entire village of Hogsmeade with only the pathways cleared for foot traffic. Daphne clasped her hand with his and together, they made their way over toward the welcoming warmth of The Three Broomsticks.
The door to The Three Broomsticks swung open, letting in a gust of cold air as Harry and Daphne stepped inside. The excitement of New Year was high and the pub was busier than usual.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our resident celebrity with his lovely lady,” came the warm greeting of Madam Rosemerta. The curvaceous innkeeper made her way over, a tray of fresh Butterbeer balanced expertly on one hand. “Out for a cozy date in the village?” She gave them a salacious wink.
Harry and Daphne exchanged an amused glance. “Something like that,” he said. “We’re actually just passing through on our way to Diagon Alley.”
Rosemerta’s perfectly arched eyebrow raised in surprise and she gave Harry a teasing grin. “Diagon Alley? What business could you two possibly have there, I wonder? Getting the lovely lady a beautiful present for the New Year, perhaps?”
“Just a quick errand,” Daphne supplied smoothly, linking her arm through Harry’s. “We’ll only be gone a few hours.”
The innkeeper winked at them and did not press any further. “Well, if you find yourselves looking for a relaxing place to continue your lovely date, the comforts of my humble establishment are always available. If the crowd bothers you too much, I’m sure a private room could be arranged,” she teased. Had they been a new couple, they might have blushed. However, in a short time, they had been through so much and had gotten so close that the insinuation did nothing but amuse them. Rosemerta smirked.
“Be sure to toss a pinch extra powder on your way out, the connection’s been acting up a bit lately.”
Nodding, Harry and Daphne watched her walk away before they traversed across the crowded pub to the huge fireplace crackling at the far end. Reaching into the modest pot on the mantle, he grabbed a handful of glittering floo powder, ensuring to grab a little extra.
“Ladies first,” he said gallantly, making Daphne roll her eyes fondly.
“Such a gentleman you can be sometimes,” she quipped, stepping into the fireplace. Harry smiled and followed suit, allowing her to wrap her arms around his.
“Ready?”
At her nod, he tossed the entirety of floo powder, and with a clear voice, they called out, “Diagon Alley!”
Emerald flames flared up, swirling around Harry and Daphne and whisking them away.
A few dizzying seconds later, they stepped out of another grate into the main fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. They brushed soot off their clothes as they crossed the dingy pub towards the backdoor courtyard and reached their destination within a few minutes.
The marble halls of Gringotts Bank always seemed to carry a foreboding chill, even on the warmest summer days. On a day this cold, the frigid atmosphere was even more glaring. Perhaps it was the dank undercurrent of ancient magic permeating the very stones. Or maybe it stemmed from the ever-present glares of the goblins overseeing the grand entrance—beady eyes appraising each witch and wizard as pieces of meat, assessing their worth.
Harry squared his shoulders as he stepped through the burnished bronze doors, Daphne's hand securely clasped in his own. He had faced far more intimidating adversaries than a squadron of miserly goblins. Even if their snide disdain for wizardkind was practically palpable.
The tallest counter was empty and Harry led Daphne over, ensuring that the Potter ring was on display. They did not miss how the goblin’s hooked nose wrinkled in clear distaste as they approached him.
“Ah, Heir Potter finally graces us with his presence,” the goblin sneered, having recognized the ring even from a distance. “To what do we owe this… privilege?
Harry and Daphne felt the privacy charms envelop them, cutting off all the sound from outside.
"I wish to confirm my future stewardship over my inherited lordships," Harry stated plainly, mustering an air of implacable confidence despite the jab. "Specifically the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter and Black."
He felt Daphne squeeze his hand approvingly and smiled. She had taught him well.
The goblin's eyebrows climbed his warped forehead as he gazed at the rings on display, his keen eye scanning for any foul play. A cruel smile twisted his mouth, revealing a row of razor-sharp teeth. "Is that so? I should hope the...esteemed Heir Black understands the full scope of obligation such an inheritance entails."
The meaning was lost on no one. House Potter was free but House Black had certain unfulfilled obligations that would fall on him should he agree to claim the lordship. He remembered Dumbledore telling him how it was imperative for him to understand what he would be gaining and to fulfill those obligations.
Harry remained silent for a couple of seconds when he felt Daphne give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He let out a confident smile, knowing that whatever it was, they would face it together.
"I'm prepared to honor all contracts and commitments binding the Black family," Harry replied evenly.
Beside him, Daphne tensed almost imperceptibly. He knew it was the idea of the unknown that perturbed her slightly, as it did him. Additionally, they both found the entire notion of archaic pure-blood houses and their convoluted rules grating, if not outright abhorrent. But there was wisdom in respecting, or rather pretending to respect certain traditions.
"Very well." The goblin snapped his spindly fingers, and a shorter, more wrinkled creature scurried over with a towering sheaf of parchment. "The Black estate encompasses numerous properties and liquid assets across Britain, France, and Bulgaria. Not to mention various contractual obligations to several...unsavory entities."
Harry suppressed a grimace, his gaze flickering to the petrifying list being unfurled before him.
"Thirteen residences, seventeen vaults—four of which require... special warding permutations to access," the goblin continued with relish. "Not to mention the small outstanding matter of matrimony binding and agreed with another pureblood house. The contract shall be available upon request."
Their breaths hitched and Harry felt Daphne’s grip go slack in his for a moment before she quickly caught herself. They should have expected one of the darkest pureblood houses to have had a fucking marriage contract and a binding one at that. They needed to live up to that barbaric rhetoric, after all.
The misshapen goblin smirked cruelly. "Of course, young Heir Black may choose to abdicate the more...challenging clauses. For a price, Gringotts would be most accommodating in reworking certain antiquated contracts."
Harry's jaw clenched. Corrupt goblins profiting from their clients' misfortune—it seemed the things he had read and heard about them were true and such things never changed. Having already assumed the heirship, he had come too far to be deterred by their schemes.
"I accept the full weight and responsibilities of my future Black Lordship," he declared, lifting his chin in stoic defiance as he felt Daphne’s hand firmly grasping his. "Provide me with the necessary documentation to formalize the inheritance. I'll review the particulars thoroughly before rendering a decision on all...reworkings bar one."
The goblin's malicious grin widened a fraction as he slid a staggering scroll across the counter. "As you wish, Heir Black. I trust our institutions can come to a most...amenable arrangement. I assume you would like to peruse through the marriage contract?"
Daphne glared viciously at the creature who merely smirked as another small wrinkled creature scurried over with a scroll. The goblin held it out for Harry who took it swiftly along with a few sheets of parchment. He gave Daphne’s hand a firm squeeze, constantly drawing assurance from her unwavering presence.
“This marriage contract,” Harry stated in a tone that brokered no argument. “I want it obliterated. Completely annulled from the record.”
The misshapen goblin regarded him with glinting, predatory eyes, that twisted smirk etching itself deeper into the grooves of his face.
“A bold request,” he rasped. “And one that would not come cheaply. As I mentioned before, we at Gringotts would be most accommodating in case of certain unfavorable agreements, should the compensation be satisfactory.”
“State your terms, goblin,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He could feel Daphne’s anger alongside his boiling beneath the surface, both at this marriage contract and at the goblin’s conduct.
“Time is money,” the goblin continued in a tone dripping with malice. “And Gringotts contracts being voided demand adequate repayment, for they are considered a slight against the honor of our kind. That is not inclusive of the penalties mentioned in the contract for a breach or voidance. Our fees in this scenario would be…unconventional. Gringotts requires compensation befitting the gravity of such an endeavor. Specifically—five ancestral artifacts of pure goblin craft, imbued with the magic of our forbearers.”
Daphne almost gasped, her grip tightening firmly on Harry’s hand. He knew the history, having read enough to understand the significance and challenge of what was being demanded. Goblin-forged artifacts were among the most covetous relics in the wizarding world, each one a priceless heirloom passed down through dozens of generations.
It was an exorbitant price, designed to be unattainable, and they saw it for what it was. A display of greed and avarice.
‘A repayment their honor demands? Bullshit. It’s all greed. Nothing else.’
Both Harry and Daphne had similar thoughts about it and Harry leveled an unflinching glare at the vile creature, his disgust laid bare on his features.
“Duly noted. Come, Daphne. Our business here is done today.”
With a final disdainful glance toward the creature who sneered with an evil grin, Harry and Daphne turned to leave.
“I shouldn't even be bothering with the Blacks,” he whispered so that only she could hear. "Fucking scum."
“There’s no need to make hasty decisions, Harry. Taking up the Black heirship was the right decision and it still is. One little hurdle doesn’t change the fact that it would’ve been disastrous to leave this lordship to Malfoy of all people,” Daphne replied calmly. “Come. We need to go through that contract and what the penalties for its annulment are.”
“I wish I could be as calm as you are right now,” he replied.
Daphne let out a shaky laugh as she glanced at him sideways.
“Believe me, my love. I am anything but calm.”
Harry sighed as he gazed at her, smiling softly when she clutched onto his arm and walked closely alongside him.
"We'll get this mess sorted out," he whispered.
To be continued…
Comments
John McCormick
A challenging contract from a lull in ☮️
