Harry Potter 1. Swallow My Soul

**Title:** Swallow My Soul

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Delphinia Malfoy

* * *

"Is he dead?" Fred Weasley asked as he lightly peppered his roasted chicken. He took a bite and grimaced at the taste. He added more pepper and nodded as he chewed around the mouthful.

"He survived," Harry replied. "Unfortunately."

"I'm surprised the fall didn't kill him," George chimed in. "If we had known you were going to pull off your surprise party we would have snuck out after curfew and joined in the festivities."

Harry snorted at the assumed excitement. He grinned when he noticed the gleam in George's eyes. "It hadn't been that exciting, really. He had been foolish to converse with what is mine, and he paid the price for it."

The twins smiled viciously at the response. They looked liked wicked Cheshire cats that wouldn't hesitate leading an unsuspecting victim down the wrong path.

"Dumbledore hasn't announced it yet. Do you think he is stalling?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore and ate more potatoes to hide the satisfaction that radiated from his entire being. Maybe the Headmaster would believe that he was simply enjoying an excellent dinner with his best friends. Dumbledore certainly hadn't cottoned on to his previous private dealings with the other students, and since Harry had entered his seventh year, Dumbledore hadn't said a word to him. It felt invigorating to know that he was able to protect Delphinia Malfoy from harm and wouldn't be punished for the foolish mistakes of others.

He had always been possessive of the things that belonged to him. It had started when Dudley had stolen his first toy when he was three. The anger and jealousy that had wrapped around his mind and heart as the chubby fingers took what was rightfully Harry's consumed him. Through the years, Harry became more cautious with his possessions and hid them in the nooks and crannies of #4 Privet Drive. He had to fight for the right to have food, clothes, and toys.

It hadn't taken him long after meeting the twins on the Hogwarts Express to learn that they were similar. While Harry was forced to survive in a Muggle home, Fred and George had to compete with their siblings. Every day it was a competition to see who could get enough breakfast first and who would get new robes and schoolbooks. And because there were so many Weasley children the three in the middle were normally left to fend for themselves while the two eldest were given the best books, education, and titles. Ron and Ginny were the ones that were showered with the most love and affection.

Very early in life, the twins realized that the only way to survive would be to only rely on themselves. They hardly listened to their mum's admonitions about better grades because she hadn't cared for years. The pranks they played during the day were mild and only vaguely humiliating, rather than displaying the cruelty and viciousness of their thoughts. The pranks had also given them an invisible barrier during mealtimes. Because no one wanted to be pranked by the Weasley twins, there were always three empty chairs on either side of them, giving them beloved privacy.

Harry had joined them in their pranks on more than one occasion, and it had solidified their bond even more. Harry heard talk about the Marauders after he moved in with Sirius during his third year, but he thought that their actions were pitiful compared to his. The memory Harry had seen in Snape's Pensieve during his fifth year hadn't been shocking, though it had been disappointing. James hadn't protected Lily well enough. He had allowed Snivellus time to get to know her, study with her, _love_ her. The thought sent cold fury rushing through him. His fingers itched to finish what his father started.

"Attention students. It is now that I must inform you of grave news. I wish not to voice such tragedies before such impressionable young minds, but I must. Heir Corner sought to take his life yesterday evening. He jumped from a lower window in the Astronomy tower and was found early this morning. He is currently in the hospital wing in a magical coma. Both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape are working around the clock to heal as much damage as possible. That said, a ward will be placed upon the tower and outer edges of the castle as a precaution. If anyone has information about the incident or Heir Corner's state of mind, please do not hesitate to step forth."

"Why wasn't it the roof?" Fred inquired, blue eyes piercing Harry.

Harry watched Delphinia's reaction from the Gryffindor table. Her beautiful face was expressionless. Blonde hair was spectacularly arranged upon her head, as if it were a hoard of dragon's gold. The white gold locks changed to the color of galleons as the candlelight danced in her hair. Her gray eyes reminded him of Fenrir from Norse mythology—fierce and willing to devour anything and anyone that stood in her path.

"Heir Corner is afraid of heights," he murmured absently. "He never would have succeeded in making it to the top. Hence a lower window. Close enough to make it look like a valid attempt, but not high enough to draw suspicion."

"And when he wakes?"

"He hit his head, and the incident will be disjointed and vague. I never spoke to him, and he never saw me. Even if Dumbledore or Snape perform Legilimency, they won't be able to understand what went on."

George chuckled, causing more than one student to look at them in alarm. George's smile widened when the students leaned away. Eveyone knew better than to eavesdrop on their conversations. Laughter and smiles normally meant a prank, and no one liked to be humiliated. And detention had never stopped them from performing a prank in the middle of the Great Hall.

"If you don't capture Lady Delphinia soon, the next _poor_ wizard may die."

Harry waved a hand negligently. "A small inconvenience, I'm afraid."

He frowned when he noticed Delphinia finish her meal and leave the Great Hall. He didn't bother excusing himself from the conversation or eating the rest of his cold meal. Heir Corner had only been in the hospital wing for a day. He knew there were more suitors that lurked in the shadows waiting to strike. He didn't doubt Delphinia's ability to guard herself, but Harry was powerful enough that she wouldn't have to. No pureblood heiress should be forced to defend herself.

He followed her on silent feet to the dungeon. He didn't bother sticking to the shadows, because Delphinia already knew he was there. If she hadn't wanted him to follow her she would have cursed him and left him in the hallway. Harry smiled at the thought of her wanting his attentions. For the past year he had cursed, pranked, maimed, and caused his rivals to fail important tests. No one knew what he was doing, other than the Weasley twins. And with each battle he fought and won, Delphinia came closer to being his. Harry had subtly been vying for her affection by getting rid of the undesirables and leaving her safe and protected.

"The tower was a nice touch," Delphinia said.

Harry shivered at the dark quality of her voice. Delphinia was a twisted and beautiful white Dementor. Instead of destroying all thoughts of happiness, he craved the pleasure of causing someone else pain. She didn't take away his joy, she added to it. She smiled and he wondered, not for the first time, if he would lose his soul when he kissed her.

"If I had known pushing someone off a tower would gain your attention, I would have done so earlier."

She laughed. "You've always had my attention, Heir Potter. I was simply waiting for you to finish your quest."

Harry stepped forward and caressed her face. She leaned into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her. The scent of her skin was intoxicating, and he didn't hesitate in capturing the lips that had taunted him for the past two years. He felt the swell of their magic as it bloomed around them, sealing them in a promise for the future. His eyes glowed as he felt Delphinia's magic for the first time. It was dark and heady. He could spend days wrapped up in the texture of her magic.

Her gasp as his magic enfolded her calmed the raging beast that had been snarling in his chest the last two days. Her gray eyes widened when she understood the fullness of his magic. He chuckled at her look and tucked her closer against him. Harry rested his chin upon her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. In a few short weeks, he would unwind the curls and thread his fingers through her hair. In a few years, she would bear him children. And in less than a decade, he would kill Lord Voldemort and appoint Delphinia Potter as his Dark Lady.


	2. Pure Desire

**Title:** Pure Desire

**Pairing:** Marvolo Gaunt/Lunicera Potter

* * *

"You have to stop You-Know-Who, Lunicera. It has to be you!" Hermione argued. She held out a vial that contained the potion which would allow Lunicera to bypass the flames and enter the last chamber, where a servant of Voldemort's would be waiting.

Lunicera Potter stared at Hermione and bit back a dark laugh. Stop Voldemort? Why would the silly Muggle-born think she would want to stop the only person who had ever cared about her? Why would she fight against the one man who had given her a reason to live? Lunicera had no intention of entering the next room and saving the day, though she would never tell Hermione that. It would only confuse and hurt the girl.

Ever since Lunicera had shaken Ron Weasley's hand on the Hogwarts Express, she knew that he would be pliable to her needs. He was weak-willed and longed to prove himself to the world. He longed to be a hero and have wealth and titles to call his own. When Ron had looked in the Mirror or Erised and saw the House Cup, Lunicera knew the perfect way to charm and manipulate him. All she needed to do was give Ron a knight's quest and he would follow her until he perished trying to save her.

Hermione's loyalty had been even easier. All Hermione ever wanted was to be included. She didn't need many friends, but she longed to know that someone valued her opinions and would listen to her advice. So when Quirinus Quirrell let the Mountain Troll into the school on Voldemort's orders, Lunicera hadn't hesitated to rescue Hermione from the girl's bathroom.

Everything had fallen into place, and Lunicera could feel victory within her grasp. Lunicera stared at Hermione's determined eyes and cast her gaze to the floor. "I don't know if I can do this, Hermione. What if I fail?"

Hermione chuckled despite the dire circumstances. "You won't fail. Both Ron and I will be with you in spirit. You're strong Lunicera, I believe in you."

Lunicera took the vial and downed the contents in one gulp, watching with narrowed eyes as Hermione did the same. She grasped Hermione's hand and squeezed it in reassurance. "Thanks, Hermione. I couldn't have done this without you."

It was one hundred percent truth. Everything had been perfectly calculated to peak their interest. Lunicera charming the staircase to take them to the third corridor, Mrs. Norris finding them, telling them about Hagrid removing something from Gringotts the same day she went to her vault, Hermione finding the section about Nicholas Flamel. Lunicera had been planning all year so that it would finally lead to this. She was one room away from the Philosopher's Stone and immortality.

"On three?"

"On three."

Lunicera waited a second longer than Hermione to make sure that the Muggle-born actually kept up her end of the deal. Wait with Ron until help came . . . if it came. Her posture changed as soon as Hermione left the chamber, giving her a more regal appearance. She hated pretending that she didn't know her proper station, but at the moment it was her main defense against Dumbledore. If he continued to think she was naïve and malleable then he would be far easier to use in the future.

The last room was brightly lit with sconces. The flames flickered along the stone walls, as shadows danced like freely flowing murals. The room was large and empty except for Professor Quirrell and a tall free standing mirror. She walked on silent feet toward her betrothed's servant. He had been very useful this year. She had been surprised when the Dark Lord told her who would become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Quirinus Quirrell was a clumsy oaf that botched everything he put his hands on. If Quirrell failed in his assigned task he would be fed to Nagini.

"My Lord sends his salutations," she said, smirking when he visibly jumped. He always jumped at shadows.

Quirrell sketched a deep bow. "Dark Lady."

"Have you retrieved the stone?" she demanded. She continued to gaze into the mirror and ignored him. He wouldn't be able to rise until she gave him permission, and she didn't feel like being generous at the moment.

"I have not. I only see myself."

Lunicera sneered. Of course he was worthless. Quirrell was unable to perform even the smallest of tasks. She calmed her growing rage and thought back to everything that Voldemort had told her about the Philosopher's Stone and how to get it. Hermione had mentioned something about people only wanting to use it for evil and other such rot. But Lunicera didn't want to use the stone for evil. She only wanted immortality so she could remain with her lord forever.

Lunicera had been alone for years. Left in a Muggle home and forgotten. If her lord hadn't rescued her from her isolation, she would have become more damaged than she already was. She knew a piece of her was broken. Lunicera could feel it rubbing jagged wounds in her mind. She could feel it growing when she went to sleep. If they weren't able to steal the Philosopher's Stone, then they would have to resort to drastic measures and create a Horcrux.

The thought of dividing her soul was repugnant, but it would rip away the part of her mind and soul that was wrong. It would give Lunicera a chance at a normal life, one that she wanted desperately. She gazed into her green eyes in the mirror and pleaded with her reflection. Please. She needed the stone. She loved him.

Her reflection winked as a heavy weight settled in her hand. Her fingers clenched around the stone as if she couldn't believe it was real. She placed it in the pocket of her robe and turned to Quirrell. She smiled at his annoyed, flushed face. She didn't know how long she had been looking at the mirror, but it had been enough to make his legs shake from the effort of remaining still.

Lunicera waved a hand and he rose. "The Dark Lord is pleased with your efforts. You have done well." She pointed her wand at him and muttered a dark curse she had learned a few days ago. It was a cremation spell used in mortuaries by purebloods who didn't want anyone stealing their blood or hair after they died.

She watched in fascination as his body painfully burned into ash. She cast a few more innocuous spells so no would think she was powerful or dark enough to cast such a spell. Priori Incantatum only went back so far before it could no longer retrieve past spells.

She glanced around the chamber as she decided how to play out the next act. Quirrell was dead and she had the stone. She forced panic to the forefront of her mind and her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She purposely gasped in air as she hyperventilated. Black spots dotted her vision as her plan took form. She slumped to the ground unconscious and waited to be rescued.

Lunicera felt gentle hands pick her up and the warmth of protection. She almost swatted the hand away when it took the stone from her pocket, but she stopped when the chest chuckled. She smiled and snuggled against it. She knew who it was. Everything would be okay. She was safe.

Lunicera felt the hospital sheets and smelled the antiseptic as she opened her eyes. She groaned and placed a hand to her aching head. Next time she would think of a better plan that didn't involve passing out. She hit her head. She blinked to clear her mind of sleepiness and almost yelped when she noticed Dumbledore sitting in a chair beside her bed.

"What happened? Ah! Hermione. Ron! Are they okay?"

Dumbledore leaned forward in the chair and grasped her hand. "They are fine, Lunicera. They were released from the hospital two days ago. As for what happened . . . I only know so much, I'm afraid. When your head of house checked to make sure that everyone in Gryffindor was bedded down for the night, he realized that three were missing—Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and you." He gave her a chiding look.

Lunicera mentally rolled her eyes. She didn't need a lecture about making wrong decisions or that it would have been better to tell an adult. She only trusted one adult, and it certainly wasn't Dumbledore.

"Ah, you're awake. That's good news."

Lunicera smiled at her head of house. She felt safer having him near her. She knew that her wand was only a foot away on the end table to her left, but she still felt vulnerable in Dumbledore's presence.

"Mr. Gaunt, what brings you to the hospital wing?" Dumbledore asked.

Marvolo Gaunt smiled and sat in the other chair. He crossed his hands over his chest and gazed at Dumbledore in a challenge. "One of my Gryffindors was attacked three days ago by a mad man. She was injured, and I wanted to make sure that she was feeling well. I also figured that she might have questions, and since I was the one that raised the alarm and made sure she was safe, it would only be right for me to tell her of the events that led to her rescue."

Dumbledore released her hand and sat back in his chair. He stroked his beard a few times and then nodded. "Right you are, Mr. Gaunt." He rose from his chair and smiled at them. "I'll leave her in your tender care."

Marvolo waited until Dumbledore left and then continued the story where Dumbledore left off. "You left a petrified Mister Longbottom in the common room, so it wasn't difficult to figure out that you all left for some nefarious purpose. I restored him to normal and he told me what the three of you planned to do. We have suspected that Quirrell was working for the Dark Lord, but we had no way to prove it."

Lunicera made sure she kept the amusement off her face as Marvolo continued to act as if he hadn't instigated the whole thing from the beginning. It had been Marvolo's idea to send Fenrir Greyback to break into Gringotts and 'steal' the stone. Due to Marvolo's plans, Dumbledore decided that the only safe place to keep the stone was Hogwarts. Dumbledore had brought the stone right to the Dark Lord and Dark Lady without being the wiser.

"Since I was one of the teachers that helped to create the trials and traps for protecting the stone, I knew what I needed to do at each stage. I made sure that Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were safe and had proper medical care. When I found you, you were unconscious and the stone was gone. We can only assume that it is now in the Dark Lord's possession."

Lunicera's eyes sparkled with mirth. Indeed it was. "W-what about Professor Quirrell? I don't understand. After I got the stone, he grabbed my arm." Marvolo's eyes flashed with rage at her pronouncement. She subtly shook her head to inform him that she was adlibbing. "He started screaming. And his body started to crumble into ash! I-I think I killed him."

Marvolo gazed into the distance for a minute and then smiled at her. He held her hand to give her comfort. "It would seem that your mother's sacrifice has further reaching consequences than we thought. The intense love that your mother felt for you right before her death created a protective barrier around you, which means that Voldemort will never be able to touch you without feeling pain."

Lunicera looked at their hands and almost burst into laughter. How did he come up with _that_? Her mother's love created a barrier? She mentally snorted. The thought was utterly ridiculous.

"Thank you for telling me, Professor Gaunt. I feel better knowing that about my mum." She let tears gather in her eyes. "Thank you for saving me."

Marvolo nodded and then startled, as if he had just remembered something. "I forgot. Severus asked me to bring this to you. He said that it would help your head. You hit it when you fell, didn't you?"

Lunicera's hands shook as she stared at the gold liquid in the vial. It was a liquid Philosopher's Stone. If she drank it, she would not only be healed but she would be able to remain by Marvolo's side forever. The taste of apples burst across her tongue as she drank it. It tasted like eternity and a promise that she would be able to keep. She closed her eyes as the dark, jagged pieces of her mind and soul became whole. For the first time in her life she felt complete and normal. She was pure.


	3. Little Miss Muffet

**Title:** Little Miss Muffet

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

* * *

Blaise Zabini stared at the Potions homework that was due tomorrow with a blank expression. The last two weeks had been an utter nightmare, and today it had only gotten worse. It was her seventh year and she still had no romantic attachment. Not one bonding contract had been sent to her mother. Not one lord, heir, or mister had shown her any signs that they would offer for her hand.

Blaise watched out of the corner of her eye as Tracey Davis—the _half-blood_—opened the gift her pureblood suitor had given to her earlier that morning. She didn't need to see the gift to know that it was expensive and would be beautiful. The meaning of the present would bring a smile to the half-blood's face, and she would whistle in an unlady-like manner for the next two hours. And then to truly rub her suitor in any unattached female's face, she would wax poetic about the romantic evenings, presents, and her bonding dress that she had bought in France.

Blaise hated the half-blood. She hated that someone as crass, ridiculous, and vain as the redheaded twit would be able to secure a future husband, while she hadn't even had a single bonding interview.

"Are you okay, Blaise?"

Blaise nodded at Pansy's whispered question and didn't look at the promise ring on her best friend's finger. When she had heard the news of Pansy's and Heir Malfoy's bonding, she had been excited. For years, Pansy had pursued Heir Malfoy and never gave up, even though people called her a gold digger, weak, or clingy. Pansy had fallen in love and had been determined to secure Heir Malfoy for her own.

Less than a week after Pansy's announcement, Daphne Greengrass gleefully told everyone in the common room that her father had accepted Heir Davies' suit. They would be bonded three days after graduation. Blaise couldn't remember if she had congratulated her, or if she had stayed still.

Blaise loved her mother. She was gentle, and taught her everything that she needed to know to survive in Slytherin. Her mum taught her how to fly when she was five years old, against the wishes of her new husband. She let Blaise help her dice potions ingredients and stir the cauldron when her mum needed to make more medicine for the tenants that lived near their estate. Her mum brushed her hair, and took her on long walks to teach her about trees, flowers, and what plants were perfect for garnishing the bountiful dishes that the house-elves cooked.

Her mum was stunning. Ever since Blaise had been a little girl, she wished to grow up to become exactly like her mother. Blaise had never questioned why she always seemed to have a new father every few years. It was normal; almost expected. She hadn't minded at first, because not every man that her mother bonded with was kind. Some only stayed long enough to gain a large settlement of money and then disappear. Others thought that Blaise would be seen and not heard, and left when they realized that her mum wouldn't allow them to shove her daughter in a dark corner to be forgotten.

Not all of her mum's husbands died, though she knew that no one would believe her if she tried to explain. Blaise's birth father died because he tried to tame a wild Abraxan and lost control of the reins. He thought that if the Malfoys had stables of them, then the Zabinis should as well. One of her step-fathers perished by a debilitating illness that he had contracted while visiting Brazil. Another one died because of his addiction to Pepper-Up potions. It burned up his magical core until there was nothing left to keep his heart beating.

With each death, her mum's reputation as the Black Widow grew more and more outrageous. And yet people believed it, because stories about a murdering widow were more acceptable in society than rumors about the Dark Lord's possible return.

"I learned a new song during the summer. Would you like to hear it?" Tracey Davis asked, voice sickeningly sweet.

Blaise almost cringed at the tone. Tracey only used it when she had something cutting and vicious to say. Blaise longed to leave the room or cast a silencing charm around her table, but she knew it would only prolong the torture. It would show weakness, and Tracey and a few of the other Slytherins would pounce.

Blaise hoped that it wasn't about her. Tracey loved targeting her the most. Blaise thought it was because she was prettier than the half-blood, but beauty wasn't worth anything if you remained alone for the rest of your life.

"Little Miss Muffet,

Sat on her tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey,

When along came a spider,

That sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffet away!"

Blaise pinched her thigh so she wouldn't cry. She welcomed the physical pain as the room burst into laughter and giggling. Blaise had heard many jokes or ditties about spiders and death ever since she had started Hogwarts. It was a subtle jab at her mum, but none had been as painful or cruel as this.

Tracey was right. Blaise scared everyone away, because they were afraid of being killed. They thought that she was exactly like her mother. No men would vie for her attentions, because they were terrified that she would get bored and murder them. It wasn't true!

She finished her Potions homework as quickly as she could, and ignored the other students who kept creating new verses and changing the lines of the song. Each new verse would get more laughter.

"Lord Potter, it's your turn."

The parchment grew blurry, so she pinched her thigh again to dry the tears. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt. She hadn't had much interaction with Harry, but he had never criticized her before. The few times they had spoken, he had been soft spoken and gentle. She frowned when she felt fresh tears gather in her eyes. The thought of him taking part in the humiliating joke felt like a Crucio to the heart—it twitched and writhed in her chest.

"I have better things to occupy my time than to think up idiotic words to a _Muggle_ nursery rhyme."

Blaise's head shot up at his caustic response. Never had his voice sounded so cold. She watched as he continued to scribble on a document that was in front of him. It was different than the school parchment; it looked like a bonding contract. She pushed down the disappointment. So he, too, was going to offer for someone. She wished it was her.

She wasn't in love with him, but he would make her happy. He had shown her more kindness than anyone she knew, except for her mum. Blaise snorted inwardly and shook her head. Who was she fooling? Harry Potter would never choose someone like her. He deserved someone without the stigma of death.

"And what is so important?" Tracey demanded impudently.

He paused and glared at her. "If I wanted you to know my personal business, I would have posted it in _the Daily Prophet_." He signed something at the bottom and laid down his quill. Harry rolled up the scroll, and then tied a dark green ribbon laced with blue—the Potter family colors—around it. "But I will, if you insist." He cocked a mocking smirk in Tracey's direction.

Tracey's eyes narrowed as her face flushed. "I do, Lord Potter."

Blaise's hands shook when he walked to her table and stared at her. He tapped the bonding contract against his chin, so everyone could see it. He flashed a smug smile at Tracey when a few people gasped in recognition.

What was he doing? Her eyes slid shut in pain. Was he really going to humiliate her in front of the entire common room?

"Trust me."

Her eyes locked onto his as his whispered words broke the silence. She nodded, hoping that she wasn't going to regret the decision.

"Young Lord Potter,

Sat by the water,

Dreaming of a future alone,

When along came a spider,

With a warm heart inside her,

Giving him hope for a home."

Blaise remembered the first time she talked to Harry. His godfather, Sirius Black, was murdered by Death Eaters a few weeks before their sixth year. He walked around the Black Lake after curfew, every night, to get away from the pity and sympathy that everyone shoved down his throat during the day. She knew what it felt like to lose a father figure, so she snuck out and followed him.

When he collapsed underneath the tree on the edge of the lake, she sat beside him without saying a word. She thought he would order her to leave, but he never did. For hours they stayed silent and stared at the stars, until Harry finally spoke.

"I never noticed that the stars were so cold and distant until tonight," Harry whispered, head tilted to look at the night sky.

"Stars don't laugh or have emotions," Blaise said after a few seconds. "They don't love, and they can never escape from their dark prison. They aren't alive. They are only balls of gas that will one day burn out and fade from existence." She smiled softly when he stared at her. "Sirius Black wasn't a star, Heir Potter, he was a loving father that wanted to protect his son."

Blaise mentally thanked Sirius Black for bringing them together. If Sirius Black hadn't jumped in front of the curse Bellatrix Lestrange cast at Harry, he would have died, and Blaise knew without a doubt that she would have been alone for the rest of her life. Harry had lost so many people in his life, and yet he was still willing to love, because it gave him strength and a reason to live. He was willing to take a chance on the Black Widow's daughter, and she vowed to never betray his trust.

She gently took the bonding contract from his outstretched hands and traced the ribbon. Threads of her magic followed her finger, binding her family magic to his. Blaise smiled when she saw Tracey's expression of disbelief and outrage. For days Tracey had bragged about her suitor, and Blaise had just snagged the number one most eligible bachelor in England—an honorable man who would always love her. She would never be alone again.


	4. Fang of the Dragon

**Title:** Fang of the Dragon

**Pairing:** Charlie Weasley/Harriet Potter

* * *

The rules for the Triwizard Tournament were ridiculous and so convoluted that it had taken her all night to read the single page—though admittedly it was four feet long and written in Old English. Whose brilliant idea was that? How could someone find a loophole in the rules if every other sentence didn't make sense and contradicted the one four lines down?

Harriet glared at the piece of parchment with loathing. Some of the rules didn't even apply anymore because a different rule sanctioned a decade later cancelled it out! It was a pathetic attempt to force everyone to participate in the deadly tournament. But then, how many entered in the tournament actually want to back out? None. They willingly put their name in the Goblet and _wanted_ to be selected!

Harriet had assumed that Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would give her the rules, because she had no idea what was permitted and what wasn't allowed. She had never heard of the Triwizard Tournament before this year, so she hadn't thought to read up on it like she had every other pureblood tradition and custom she was able to get her hands on.

They never did.

Dumbledore had given some stupid speech about it not being her fault, yadda yadda yadda. Harriet knew it wasn't her fault! If the rest of the school didn't believe it then they could suck a lemondrop. Harriet knew the truth and that was well enough with her. After two more days of waiting for them to give a sign or advice, she took matters into her own hands and grabbed every book in the library that mentioned the tournament. She had spent days reading through old tomes and textbooks in a small, hidden alcove in the library where she wouldn't be disturbed.

When Madam Pince realized what she was doing, the librarian immediately directed her to the Restricted Section (Harriet had always been her favorite) and the book that contained everything she needed to know. Apparently it was forbidden to try and get out of a tournament that could cause death, go figure. So far, Harriet wasn't that impressed with the magical world, and her opinion of it had taken another dive as she read the rules.

Written in the tiniest scribble she had ever seen was the loophole she had been looking for all night. It had taken her almost an hour to decipher the text that looked more like a Rorschach blots test than legible words. Harriet wondered if the person writing the rule thought that it would genuinely help someone, or if they were laughing at the thought of someone doing something so drastic. Harriet figured it was the latter. The magical world was a screwed up place at times.

Dumbledore only taught light magic at Hogwarts, and yet he was using a dark magic contract to hold a tournament and send four people to their deaths. The only person who had a minute chance of winning the entire thing was Viktor Krum and that was because he actually knew dark magic from Durmstrang! Cedric would probably die during the First Task, as she would if she didn't use the loophole.

Dark magic was more powerful than light magic. It was a fact. The sky was blue, Dumbledore had horrible taste in robes, and light magic was weak. It was probably the reason why the Slytherins look constipated all of the time. They weren't able to use dark magic at school. Frankly, if she could choose between learning dark curses and spells that would help her murder the freak that had killed her parents, and learning how to float a feather, she'd choose killing someone. Hands down, no questions asked.

Harriet couldn't think of a single time in her life when she would need to know how to float a feather. Unless she dropped her pillow, but then she would just pick it up without using her wand. Really people, it wasn't that hard.

Harriet didn't know much about Fleur, other than the fact that she loved making hormonal men drool and act like morons. Maybe that was her special power, being a veela, and the blonde hoped it would help her. Harriet thought it was useless. Beauty wouldn't stop an Acromantula or Dementor from eating your face. But apparently if you were bonded before the First Task, it would.

If she were bonded before the First Task—Harriet still had no idea what it would be—then she would be exempt. It would once again be the Triwizard Tournament. Four books in a series was a quartet, not a trilogy, just like four people in a _Tri_wizard Tournament meant illegal and suspicious activity was going down. They just decided it was easier to blame her instead of an outside party . . . like for instance Voldemort! He was dead, right? There was no way he tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, opened the Chamber of Secrets, or made everyone believe that Sirius Black betrayed her parents. Nope. It was all Harriet's fault, because she wanted the money and glory.

Why were people so dumb?

Harriet snorted and reread the loophole for what felt like the tenth time—it probably was. So the only way to get out of the contract was if she bonded with someone. Harriet couldn't think of anyone she would willingly attach herself to for the rest of her life. They had to be powerful enough to override the contract on her magic, which meant that a light wizard was absolutely out of the question. Draco Malfoy was a complete git. Theodore Nott wasn't attractive in the least, and Blaise Zabini was intended to a fourth-year Ravenclaw that loved reading the_ Rogue_—a witch fashion magazine—during class.

But maybe if he was older then it wouldn't matter! No, too fat. Eh, he had bad hygiene. Nope. He talked too much about his pet crup, and he was horrible in almost all of the subjects. She continued to run through a list of possible candidates and dismissed them one after the other. They didn't feel right.

_"You know who to ask."_

Harriet rolled her eyes at the voice. If she knew, she would have already done it. Sometimes her magic's voice annoyed her when it pretended to know things she didn't. There was no way her magic knew the perfect person to bond with. Unless someone had caught her magic's attention. . . . Hmm. There's a thought. Who had her magic paid attention to more this week? No one. Great! There goes that brilliant idea.

Harriet ignored Granger's chatter as she got ready for breakfast. Would the girl never shut up? Harriet loved to learn new things, but Granger didn't have to lecture everyone while they were getting dressed. Who cared that Sir Reginald of Whittingham was knighted by the Muggle Queen of England because he discovered a cure to some obscure illness. She was trying to get the wrinkles out of her robes because she forgot to hang them up the night before.

Harriet sighed as she quickly left the room. It never took her very long to get ready in the morning. She fixed her hair, brushed her teeth, and got dressed for the day. While the other girls primped in front of the bathroom mirror and used makeup and glamours, Harriet didn't need the extra help to look fabulous—she was born with it.

"Rough morning?"

_"Ask him!"_

Harriet shook off the voice and laughed. "You have no idea." She fell into place between Fred and George Weasley. They didn't mind her when she was snarky or spacey when she talked with her magic. They seemed to take it in stride and had become fast friends. They were two people that she could tolerate, and she wouldn't give them up. "Did you know that at least five people wrote the rules for the tournament? Not only was it a mess of scribbles, but I think I found part of an essay—it blabbered on about ancient battle rights and rescuing maidens. It was _fascinating_."

"It does sound riveting, doesn't it, George?" Fred asked. George nodded as they ignored the piercing glare she sent them.

"I lost sleep, precious sleep, which could have been used dreaming about ways to torment Dumbledore. But the night wasn't completely worthless. I was able to find a loophole. Amid the useless information, combined with a coded handwriting that could barely be deciphered, I found my way to freedom. Freedom—sounds amazing, doesn't it?"

Harriet laughed at the students that parted before them. They were valiantly _trying_ to snub her and show her how much they hated the trick she had done, but it was too amusing. Did they really think that she cared what they thought? Harriet had stopped caring about the opinions of others when Dudley shoved her to the ground and she released the snake from the zoo. Sure Dudley had been stuck in a glass snake habitat for an hour while they cut a hole in the glass large enough to remove him, but the satisfaction she had gained from seeing his terror went much further than that one act.

When Hagrid showed up a few days later telling her that she was a witch, she had jumped at the chance to learn more magic and become great. If she had known that she would be learning how to change a matchstick into a needle and open doors without a key, she would have chosen a different school. But it was too late now. Dumbledore wouldn't let her leave, and Sirius was somewhere—hiding, knowing him—until Dumbledore told him it was safe. She sneered at the thought. Yes, Sirius had broken out of Azkaban for her and she was extremely grateful—the thought of a man posing as a rat and living near her was revolting—but she hadn't heard from him since that night. He essentially abandoned her and she was once again left on her own. She was used to it.

"Bonding. I have to be bonded before the First Task. Know any powerful and handsome wizards looking to get hitched?"

The twins shared a long look and chorused, "Charlie."

_"Yes! Him!"_

Charlie? Ah, right. He was the dragon keeper who lived in Romania. He came and got Norberta—poor Hagrid had been devastated to hear Norbert was a girl—after Hagrid had illegally hatched a dragon in his shack. Which, by the way, was not a good idea. Not only did the dragon set Hagrid's beard on fire, but she also almost burnt down his house. The dragon had been the size of a small dog by the time Charlie showed up, and Harriet knew it wouldn't have been long before it was big enough to swallow his 'mother'. Harriet wouldn't want that on anyone's conscience. Also, the thought of something eating Hagrid was disgusting. He was very hairy.

"Am I supposed to Floo to Romania?" she asked sarcastically. If her magic said that Charlie would be a good choice, she believed it. But she had a deadline to meet. Less than three days to the First Task and she didn't know if she wanted to spend those three days gallivanting about the Romanian countryside in search of a dragon preserve. Though maybe she would anyway. There was a test in Potions tomorrow. She could afford to skip it.

"He's here for the First Task. He arrived yesterday."

Well, now she knew what the First Task would entail. Dragons. Why else would Dumbledore ask a dragon keeper to come? Did the other contestants know? Eh, it would be their fault for being unobservant. It didn't really matter anyway.

"Would it be weird if I asked him to bond with me because I don't want to die?" Harriet asked.

Fred winced at her wording. "Try to sound less desperate."

Harriet stared at him in disbelief. "Don't bring up my imminent death should he refuse. Got it." She rolled her eyes at their expressions. She wasn't going to force Charlie to bond with her, but he really was her only chance for survival.

"We'll let him know you want to talk to him. Do it after curfew, though. You don't want Dumbledore knowing you're trying to get out of it."

Harriet scowled. Of course Dumbledore wouldn't want her to be free. She knew he wasn't manipulative enough to submit her name, but she had no doubt that Dumbledore wanted her to compete so he could find out who had done it. She wasn't willing, though. It wasn't hard to think of Voldemort's name. Yeah, he probably had a servant do it for him because he was currently a puddle of goo, but she needed to think about getting out of the tournament first, and then think about taking revenge on the guy who kept trying to ruin her life. Harriet couldn't kill someone if she was already dead. You would think he would get tired of it already. Getting defeated by a baby was humiliating, but being unable to kill her three times was pathetic.

The Slytherins and half of the school were wearing 'Potter Stinks' badges. It was _very _original and it _hurt_ her feelings, so much that she hexed Malfoy in the middle of the hall and blamed it on Ron Weasley. Ron Weasley who had fired off a curse, though it hadn't been anywhere near Malfoy, gladly took the credit.

Harriet just wanted the day to be over already. During the last few days her mind had been so occupied on finding the stupid loophole that she hadn't paid attention to the terror that had taken root in her mind. She wished it was because Voldemort sent her another dream, but it wasn't. She didn't like being scared. Being scared made her twitch and jump at small noises. It made her volatile and snap—like what had happened with Malfoy.

Harriet rarely relied on other people. They had always let her down in the past and she didn't see that changing anytime soon. Adults were idiots and children were immature. The thought of her freedom riding on the coattails of Charlie Weasley was daunting and made her want to curse someone—preferably another Slytherin. It wasn't fair that they knew dark magic and she didn't. It was a weak excuse and not one she would ever voice aloud, but it made her feel better.

—X—

"He said to meet him near the Forbidden Forest," one of the twins said later that day, explaining the directions to get to the place where his older brother would be waiting.

Harriet laughed. Of course. Everything happened in, near, around, by, or over the Forbidden Forest. Why Dumbledore had given it that ridiculous name she would never understand. It only made teenagers want to go in it. He clearly didn't understand the way youth thought if he figured it would make them stay away.

"Roger!" She forced a smile. Curfew was at nine, which meant that she had three more hours to waste. Then she would need to wait another hour to make sure that her roommates were asleep before she snuck out. It would be horrible if Hermione woke up again and tried to give her a lecture. Four hours and she would know if Charlie would play the knight to her damsel in distress.

"I'm George."

Harriet sometimes forgot that the twins hadn't been raised as Muggles. They always caught on quick when she turned a popular wizard phrase or did something they thought was bizarre. "It means I understand." She hadn't had to explain anything to them in over a month. Either they were getting more fluent in Muggle speak, or she was using more wizarding terms. Not that it mattered. She always spoke properly when she needed to. She knew that Fred and George didn't care if she was the perfect pureblood lady. They were friends and that was all that mattered.

The wait was horrible. And she wished she had a time-turner so she could go forward in time. Was that even possible, or did it only go backwards?

Dumbledore talked about the honor and glory that each champion was bringing to their school—sending more glares toward her. Great. It wouldn't even matter by tomorrow anyway, though, since she would be bonded to Charlie Weasley—hopefully—and she wouldn't even have to do anything.

After Dumbledore finished his ramblings, Madame Maxime gave a _long_ history of the Tournament and all of the deaths and unfortunate maiming. Harriet wasn't sure if she was trying to scare everyone to death or if she thought it was exciting. She was French, so it could have been either. And then finally, Karkaroff talked about each champion. He spent over thirty minutes regaling the entire audience with Viktor Krum's achievements and prowess. No contest on who Karkaroff thought would win, and Harriet had to agree.

When it was time to head for bed, Harriet was one of the first heading toward the tower. If she had to listen to another word about the blasted tournament she would start hexing people. And she couldn't afford to spend time in detention or be summoned to the Headmaster's office. She forced herself to half-heartedly start a Transfiguration essay on why turning a hedgehog into a pin cushion would help her in life, but ended up doodling in the top right corner before she was three-quarters of the way done. When she was finished, it looked like Neville Longbottom's prized cactus. She was oddly pleased.

It had distracted her from the thought of rejection. Why would Charlie want to bond with her? She was friends with Fred and George so that might be a plus in her favor, but she had only spoken to him once. Right before the Quidditch World Cup, when everything went to hell in a hand basket. He seemed nice enough, and he was certainly more handsome than many other wizards that she could name. But was his magic powerful enough? Her magic seemed to think so, and that would have to be enough.

_"It's time. Go now."_

Harriet threw on her blackest cloak and then her Invisibility Cloak for extra protection. The teachers would probably be patrolling the halls double time due to all the students from the other schools. Dumbledore didn't trust them, because they were only allowed in the school during mealtimes. It was stupid. Why host a competition between three schools that were suspicious of each other?

Harriet walked out of the common room and shut the painting softly so the Fat Lady wouldn't raise the alarm, though she was so drunk she probably wouldn't have even been able to open her eyes. The Fat Lady was a horrible defense against intruders. She was either gossiping with the vapid Violet, sleeping, or asleep _and_ drunk.

It took her over forty-five minutes to get to the spot George told her about. Mrs. Norris had caught her scent and followed her for a while. Harriet locked her in an empty classroom and placed a silencing spell on the door. Mr. Filch wouldn't be able to find her until morning.

"George said you wanted to talk to me."

Harriet startled at the quiet voice behind her. Was he trying to kill her? Wait, she was wearing her Invisibility Cloak. How did he know she was here? She pushed down the hood and stared at him.

He was just as handsome as Harriet remembered, though maybe more so because she was old enough to appreciate his looks now. The hair that Molly ordered him to cut was even longer and pulled back with a hair tie. She was surprised when she felt the urge to run her fingers through it. His brown eyes were serious and held an otherworldly quality that Harriet couldn't quite pin down. His body was muscled and wiry, and she knew that he would be a spectacular duelist. There was a burn on his right arm and teeth marks on his left hand. An earring in the shape of a fang hung from his right ear.

"Your magic said you had a request," he said, answering her unspoken question after she was done ogling at him.

She had heard the voice frequently, but no one had ever been able to hear it before.

She smiled when she realized that her magic had voluntarily reached out for Charlie Weasley. Her magic trusted him. Harriet needed to do the same. Harriet's magic hadn't agreed to participate in the tournament and they both wanted out.

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet," she blurted. Maybe she should have tried to find a more elegant way of telling him about her problem, but she couldn't think of one. She needed to bond with him or she would die. She didn't have enough magical knowledge to win the tournament, and the contract would force her to participate in each task. Now wasn't a time to mince words. "Have you read the rules?"

She didn't want to explain everything to him because it was long, boring, and it would take too much time, but she needed him to know and understand everything before he agreed—hopefully agreed. Charlie continued to stare at her as if she were a new dragon he had found and wasn't quite sure what to do with it, yet. He was listening though, so at least she succeeded somewhere in her attempts.

"I have. I assume that you're talking about the subsection mentioning bonded females that haven't birthed an heir are forbidden to participate in the tournament."

"Great! You know about it. Now, I'm a very blunt person and I know I'm forgetting billions of pureblood rules and whatnot, but my life is at stake and I want to keep living." Harriet knew Fred told her not to mention her death as the reason why she wanted to bond with him, but what other reason would she give? They hardly knew each other! It would be easier if Charlie knew she needed his help and protection rather than have him think she had been pining for him. "So I was wondering if you were betrothed, or promised, or any of that rot to anyone."

An amused smirk followed her rambling. "No. I'm not. I'm currently unattached."

"Awesome! Would you be willing to save me from certain death by becoming my bonded? I know it's sudden, but I'm kinda on a deadline. You can do it, right? You have enough magical power to overthrow the contract?"

Charlie laughed and Harriet shivered at the dark quality. She could see that presence again. It was foreign and fascinating. She wanted to discover what brought that sparkle into his eyes and why he had that smirk on his face. What secrets did he hold? Harriet already knew that Charlie was magically powerful, and his reaction to her question confirmed it. But it wasn't simply that. There was something else just out of reach.

"What do you know about dragon _keepers_, Harriet?"

Harriet blinked at the segue. "Nothing," she admitted. There was no use in bull-crapping a response. He would know if she was lying or not and it would be a waste of time.

"Dragons are considered dark creatures. Their classification by the Ministry says that they are even more lethal than werewolves, which is why only a few countries allow dragon reserves. Dragons are able to think, unlike werewolves who turn into mindless savages, and they use magic which is highly different from our own. Though countless people have _tried _studying them, most of what is printed in books and taught in schools is made up. Dragon keepers are keepers in name only. We are not in charge of controlling a dragon or making it domestic. We live among them as their servants, in a way.

"Days before its death, a dragon selects a keeper from the group of witches and wizards living at the reserve and bestows its magic unto them if it finds someone worthy. Few have been given the honor. Using a dark ritual, known only to a dragon, a dragon keeper drinks the dragon's blood as soon as it has taken its last breath. The blood allows the foreign magic to merge with the witch or wizard and transforms them into an entirely new being."

Harriet tried to wrap her mind around the information. Charlie had the magic from a dragon! Molly would faint if she found out! Harriet laughed when she realized that his pure, light family had no idea that their son had dark magic. Maybe Fred and George had an inkling, but she doubted they truly understood.

"A dragon mates for life, Harriet. No spell will be able to break it. Nothing is stronger than a magical creature bonding."

Harriet didn't love him, and she would be bonded to Charlie Weasley until she died. He had the magic from a dark creature and no one knew except for her.

_"He will protect you."_

"I know," she said in response to his question and her magic's statement. She had a way out, and she wasn't going to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass her by. She was going to be bonded to a magical creature! How cool was that?

Charlie removed the earring and crushed it into powder with a few whispered words. "Fang of the dragon. Magic of the keeper willingly given." His dark magic burst forth and surrounded her, and the remains of the ashes of the fang rested in his hand. "Blood of the lover forcibly taken." He removed a knife from his boot and cut the palm of her hand, holding her bleeding palm over his. The spell grew in power and strength as blood intertwined with the fang and his magic and became one.

A black and red thread grew thicker in her mind until it became unbreakable. She gasped as his magic spilled into her, like water from a broken dam. It flooded her until she felt full, but it kept streaming in. She felt it overflow and wash over her, cleansing and replacing her weak light magic with something more powerful and dark. Her magical core rejoiced and hummed underneath the pounding force of his magic. She was finally free.

* * *

Note: I would love to hear what you think of the collection so far. Was there a pairing or tradition that you liked better?


	5. Illusions of Amber

**Title:** Illusions of Amber

**Pairing:** Remus Lupin/Hadora Potter

* * *

Hadora Potter toyed with her breakfast. The greasy eggs and sausage that had looked fabulous only a few moments ago had turned into a mess of yellow yokes and bits of undesirables. She ignored the admonishing look her mother gave her and continued to poke the congealing pile with her fork. Hadora hadn't eaten a full meal in almost two days, and even though her stomach roared in protest, she couldn't bring herself to eat. Her stomach twisted and roiled with fear.

Three days before summer, Cormac McLaggen informed her that his father agreed to send her a bonding offer. Lord McLaggen would draw up a contract and send it to her father during the holiday. She cringed at the thought of the contract winging its way toward the Potter Manor. Ever since she had come of age two years ago, she had gotten countless proposals, courtship offers and bonding requests. Each one was carefully rejected.

Hadora knew that if her father hadn't been Lord Potter then she would have already been bonded long ago, and had an heir. It was only due to her father's love that she was unattached. James would never force her to enter into a bonding of convenience, because he had refused to do the same when he was younger.

Her father had been fortunate enough to confess his love, and send a bonding contract to Alice Rookwood mere hours before Frank Longbottom. If he had waited or questioned his decision, Hadora had no doubt that her mum would have married Lord Longbottom. Because of the affection between her parents she had vowed that she would never settle for anything less than a love match, which made it impossible, because Remus viewed her as a child.

She pushed her plate with mutilated food away. She should have been used to the pain by now but it smarted. She still felt like her heart was being crushed every time she saw him and wished for the expression in his amber eyes to change. She wondered how much longer she could take the pain.

"I received a bonding contract last night," James said, breaking the silence. "It's from Lord McLaggen."

Hadora didn't respond. What would she say? I don't want to bond with him; I'm in love with Remus Lupin? She bit her lip when it started to tremble. She wouldn't cry at the breakfast table. She pressed her nails into the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, and let the uncomfortable feeling take away the tears and melancholy thoughts that had plagued her ever since she had left Hogwarts.

"It is a generous offer, Hadora," he continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"What is a generous offer?" Sirius demanded as he waltzed into the breakfast room, Remus Lupin trailing behind him.

A house-elf popped into the room and belatedly announced, "Lord Black and Lord Lupin requested to join you for breakfast." He glared at the guests who hadn't waited for a proper introduction.

Sirius laughed and waved away the formalities. "It's a breakfast room, not the dining hall, Dibble."

Dibble grumbled and left without saying another word.

"Now, what good news is there?" Sirius demanded as he loaded a plate.

Hadora forced herself to keep her eyes off of Remus. If she met his gaze she knew he would be able to read her every, painful, pathetic emotion. Her hands clenched in her lap. If he hadn't been so kind to her maybe she wouldn't have fallen in love with him. If he hadn't brought her sweets, took her flying, taught her dueling, and wrote her letters while she was away at school, perhaps her heart wouldn't have betrayed her.

But the knowledge that he had done the same with Sirius's children made her despair that much worse and bitter. Remus had never played favorites among his friend's children, even though Hadora would pretend that she was the only one he cared about. What she saw as fun filled moments and friendship that had deepened into something more complicated and long lasting had only been viewed as duty. The thought of Remus going on picnics with Cassiopeia Black or teaching Alhena Black Arithmancy made her blood boil with jealousy.

James cast Hadora a questioning look and she nodded. Maybe Remus would protest this time. Hadora had never talked to Cormac McLaggen until he had informed her of his plans, but she had known immediately that she wouldn't accept his offer for one simple reason—he wasn't Remus Lupin. McLaggen was simply another Gryffindor among many in a school that was both her sanctuary from Remus and a prison because she wouldn't be able to see Remus for months.

The dread she had felt today when she thought about the contract was a combination of terror that Remus would once again remain silent, and being sick at the thought of marrying someone else. The thought of loving anyone but Remus was impossible. It made her chest hurt.

She looked at Remus for the first time since he entered the room. His shaggy chestnut hair fell around the collar of his dress robes and framed his strong jaw. His amber eyes, that denoted him as a pureblood werewolf, flashed with unnamed emotion as he stared at her father. His handsome face was unmarred by scars that dotted the bodies of Turned werewolves. He was several inches taller than her dad, and his posture made him look taller than Sirius, though it may have been because Sirius rarely walked like a lord. His shoulders were broader than Sirius's and Hadora knew he was entirely muscle. The power that he gracefully carried everywhere he went drew people to him, and she hadn't been immune to his charms for years.

Remus was a born pureblood werewolf and took his rightful place as the alpha of the pureblood werewolf pack when he was only nineteen, which promoted his title of Lord Lupin to an even higher station. Though he didn't belong to an Ancient and Noble pureblood house, his prestige as being the only pureblood alpha in Magical Britain made him one of the most sought after lords.

"Lord McLaggen owled a bonding contrac—"

A growl rent the air. "Decline."

Hadora stared at Remus in hope. For years she had been waiting for him to speak up and he never did! He was jealous! He had to be! He had never ordered—it certainly hadn't been a suggestion—her father to reject a suitor.

"It isn't your decision to make, _Remus_. It's Hadora's," James retorted.

Amber eyes flashed to her. Her heart sank like a stone in her stomach when she noticed the anger that was growing in his eyes. If she had seen just one other emotion Hadora would have told everyone that she had no intention of accepting the offer. But she hadn't seen love, affection, or jealousy; she had only seen simmering rage.

"I don't care if it is her choice. Hadora will not bond with a _Turned_." Remus sneered the word like Malfoy sneered Mudblood. "McLaggen was bitten four years ago. His blood is tainted."

Hadora's heart thundered in her ears. How dare he! She had waited years for him to give her a sign that he was in love with her, and the only reason why he was protesting the match was because McLaggen had the misfortune of being bitten by a werewolf instead of being born one! Even though McLaggen was a pureblood by wizard standards, he was unsuitable for her by pureblood werewolf standards. Remus didn't want her to bond with someone unworthy, and that was the end of it.

"I am permitted to bond with whomever I deem worthy, Remus," she said, surprised at the icy quality of her tone.

Remus snorted and leaned back in his chair. "He will never love you."

Hadora flinched. She couldn't handle this anymore. The words coming from his mouth were too sharp. They cut her to the quick. _Never love you._ Maybe she was being a foolish child. Maybe Remus would never love her. But was it so horrible of her to wish for a love match? Sirius bonded with Rolanda Hooch. Her dad bonded with Alice Rookwood. Peter bonded with Amelia Bones. All of them were love matches!

Her chair toppled to the floor in her haste to leave the table and his insidious presence. "You think I don't know that?" she demanded. Hadora didn't care that she was almost screaming. "I've waited for years, Remus, years to call yo—someone my husband. I'm almost eighteen!"

"So you'll marry someone you don't love? Seems petty to me."

"Everything seems petty to you," she snapped. She glared at him and didn't flinch when he growled. She was tired of waiting for him to realize his true feelings. He was gone for months because he had to perform obligations to his pack. She understood that. But it didn't make it hurt any less when he left. He was always leaving her! "You think that after being away for three months, you have a right to dictate my life? You don't! You know nothing about me or my feelings, so back off!"

"I know everything about you, Hadora. _Everything_. You're mine! And no one is going to take you from me—especially a filthy _Turned_ werewolf!" he roared. "You will reject his offer, and that is final."

Hadora paled. Never had she heard anything more painful. Remus essentially just told her that her opinion didn't matter. Her station as Heiress Potter didn't matter, and that her feelings were inconsequential. In front of her entire family, Remus had announced that she was nothing more than chattel. He would never bond with her, because she wasn't worthy of it. She was a possession, a plaything. She was less than human and less than a Muggle.

Hadora grabbed the table so she wouldn't collapse to the ground. Tear gathered in her eyes and she didn't bother stopping them. They rolled down her cheeks as she tried to gather up what was left of her dignity and leave the room. So this is what it felt like. Being ripped apart and dumped by the wayside.

James jumped to his feet and leveled his wand at his best friend. "You better beg her for forgiveness, Lupin or—"

"I understand," Hadora murmured. She kept her watery gaze on her father. She knew that the second she left the room, her father would challenge Remus to a duel. But she couldn't drudge up enough energy to care. She felt hollow. "May I be excused?" The words felt foreign on her tongue. She hadn't asked to be excused since she was a little girl in braids.

"Of course, Hadora," Alice whispered.

Hadora curtsied to the room and stumbled out. She shut the door and leaned against it for support. When she had woken up this morning she had never thought the day would become ruined. Maybe it would have been better to stay in bed. She shook her head. It was better to know Remus's true feelings.

She heard a loud crash in the room behind her and cringed. She didn't want to be here when they finished fighting. She wanted to disappear. Hadora thought about heading to her chambers, but decided it would be a foolish idea. Though they were private, it would only depress her further. Mind made up, she ventured outside and grabbed her Firebolt. She launched herself in the air and took off as fast as the broom would go. She didn't want to think or feel.

_"No, you're holding it wrong, put your hands here," Remus instructed._

_Hadora laughed and fumbled the grip he was teaching her. "Are you sure? It feels like I'm trying to strangle a crup."_

_His amber eyes sparkled with amusement as he snorted. "Do that often?"_

Her tears dried in the harsh wind. Why did everything she do remind her of him? It would have been easier if he had paid her no attention at all, than a little. Hadora choked on a sob and covered her mouth to staunch the sound, before remembering that it didn't matter. No one could hear her.

She watched the clouds float in the blue sky for what felt like hours. The darkening colors told her that she had been gone for most of the day. Her stomach growled but she ignored it. She didn't want to return home yet. The sky darkened and grew more ominous. Purple lighting flashed as the wind picked up. Hadora gazed at the storm in the distance with apprehension as the weather grew worse and more dangerous. She tightened her grip as gusts of wind shot toward her, trying to throw her from the broom.

A sharp pain in her chest made her gasp. The purple lightning flashed again, highlighting a small object in the sky. It was falling. She felt the mental bond snap in place and her terror increased. It wasn't possible. She raced toward the figure in the sky. She flattened herself against the handle as much as she could to dispel the strong wind. It shouldn't be possible.

Hadora cast a lightening charm and carefully gathered the child into her arms. The storm vanished as soon as Hadora touched her. Her hands shook as she floated to the ground. Hadora laid her on the grass and stared with awe at the beautiful girl. Her ebony hair was pinned up with ribbons and combs. Her dress robes were of well made quality and a cut she had never seen before. Her skin was flawless and looked soft. Her eyes were drawn back to the color of her daughter's—because somehow, someway this little girl was her daughter—hair.

The girl groaned, drawing Hadora from her thoughts. "Easy, you're okay. I caught you." She felt warmth flood her as the bond hummed. Her daughter was here. The overwhelming thought of getting bonded and having a family was almost too much when only hours ago, her heart had been crushed.

"Mum?"

Her heart almost broke for a second time at the question. "Yes, Honey, I'm here."

Amber eyes locked with hers.

_Remus_ was her father.

A radiant smile burst across the girl's face. "We did it! It worked! I-I came back!" She threw herself in Hadora's arms and snuggled close. Her daughter smelled like lilacs. "I mean, I knew it would work . . . okay, well, Daddy _thought_ it would work; we weren't sure, but we knew that we had to try becau—"

Hadora laughed at the rambling. "Slow down, little one."

She pouted. "I'm not little. I'm nine!" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Hadora. "You look so young! Oh, uh, not that you look old or ugly in the future, because you don't. You just look so much like Jessamine, or Jessamine looks like you. Ugh. Whatever it is."

Jessamine. They had another daughter?

"Oh right, Daddy said you wouldn't know my name. This is weird because you're my mum, but, oh well. I'm Hapachia Lupin. It's nice to meet you . . . again."

Hadora wrapped her mind around her daughter's name. His name still sent shafts of pain to her heart, but she ignored it. If it meant that he would finally love her and give her a family, she would tolerate the pain for the time being.

"I'm Hadora Potter."

Hapachia gave her a look. "I _know_." Hadora bit back a grin at the response. She was already in love with her daughter. "Daddy sent me with a message."

Hapachia furrowed her brow and stared at the grass. "Give me a minute. I told him I wouldn't remember everything, but he didn't listen." Hapachia rolled her eyes as if Remus did that often, but she was used to it.

Hadora couldn't believe what she was hearing! Surely, he would be attentive and active in his children's lives and listen to them. Remus would never—instances in her life, that she couldn't overlook, flashed through her mind. Memories of all the times he ignored her and forgot the plans they made in advance, because he was busy. Hadora didn't want her daughter to go through that.

"He said that he was going to say something stupid and make you angry. But he wanted me to tell you that he is really sorry and he loves you! He does that a lot, you know. But then he apologizes and you kiss him. And then he mentioned something about a castle, and that he didn't mean to say that either." Hapachia tilted her head, radiating confusion. "Why would he call you a castle?"

A tear rolled down her cheek as Hapachia blundered the vicious words Remus had uttered mere hours ago. Not even the words, 'he loves you' could diminish the pain. Her daughter didn't understand, but it wrenched something inside her.

"Don't cry! I don't think you look like a castle! I'm sure Daddy was just being stupid again! I can kick him in the shin when I get back if you want! I do that when he hurts _my_ feelings!"

Get back? Hapachia was leaving? She couldn't leave! If she left— Betrayal left a sour taste in her mouth. He sent their daughter back in time to apologize and hadn't taken into consideration the pain it could cause her when Hapachia left! A bitter laugh escaped. He was torturing her. Why had she fallen in love with him? He was cruel and thoughtless.

She hugged Hapachia to her chest and didn't let go, neither noticing that darkness had descended until the first star emerged. Hadora's heart leapt when she saw a falling star. She snapped her eyes shut and wished that she would be able to keep her daughter. She tried to forget that Hapachia didn't belong in the current timeline and would have to return sooner or later. Later, she hoped, _much_ later. She snuggled closer to her daughter and wrapped Hapachia in the cloak spelled with heating charms.

An hour later, a loud crack of thunder careened through the air, sending panic rushing through her. No! Not yet, please not yet. She still didn't know everything! Could magic really be so cruel? Dark clouds gathered overhead quickly followed by bolts of purple lightning as Hadora clung to her daughter tighter. She didn't want to let her go. Not now. The thought of losing the bond was horrifying. Too much had happened in the last few hours, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to survive the separation.

Hadora wanted to force her to stay. She wanted to secret Hapachia away and never give her back, because after years of being alone Hadora had finally found something worth the agony that she had suffered at Remus's hands. Hadora's wand crept into her hand and she pointed it at her daughter's back as a hex waited on the tip of her tongue. Hadora felt a light kiss on her cheek and flinched. Her wand fell to the ground. She couldn't do it, because a future version of herself was waiting on the other side.

Even though she knew it would destroy her—mind and soul, she couldn't force Hapachia to stay. The bond wavered in her mind as the storm grew larger and more fierce, and Hadora couldn't stop the tears from falling. Why did everything good have to be taken away from her? Had she done something unforgiveable? Was she unworthy?

"I'm sorry," Hapachia said, clinging to her.

Hadora nodded brokenly. She knew it hadn't been her daughter's intention to cause her more pain. Hapachia was too innocent and loving to do something this vindictive. "I know, Sweetie. I love you."

Hapachia's downcast expression brightened. "I love you too, Mum." She looked at the storm and her lip trembled. "I don't want to go."

"You have to," Hadora forced out. She moved away from Hapachia even though her entire being screamed at her to do the exact opposite. "You don't belong in this timeline."

"But—!"

Another piece of her heart broke at the cry. Hadora loved that Hapachia wanted to stay, but the prolonged farewell would make it even worse once she was gone. "Please, Hapachia." She wasn't even sure what she was pleading for. Her mind and magic were in turmoil and she could barely think straight.

Hapachia sobbed and nodded. Hapachia ran toward the center of the storm as Hadora silently begged her daughter to turn around. She needed to see the love in her amber eyes. She needed to see the smile that was accented by dimples. Hadora curled into a ball as her daughter ran and ran without looking back.

Hadora felt the bond snap and, with it, her mind. Her daughter was gone and she would never be whole again. Her mind lashed out, trying to find the piece that she had lost. It was here somewhere. She had felt it only a second ago, hadn't she? Hadora remembered the warmth and affection but now she was cold. So very cold and afraid.

She savagely pulled the edges of the empty hole in her mind together, but it remained gaping. There was a hole where something used to be. Hadora gazed into the abyss of a broken bond and jumped in. Maybe if she reached the bottom she would find it. Maybe then she would feel the arms wrap around her. Maybe then she would hear the words, "I love you, Mum."

Frigid, dead magic rushed through her as she fell farther and farther into the black hole. She felt two other small pinpricks of warmth but they didn't call to her. They were weak and unimportant. Hadora brushed away the other bonds and slid further down.

Terror grabbed hold of her heart as she continued falling. It wasn't here. No matter how deep she went, she couldn't find the little light that she'd cradled so lovingly. Instead of warmth and love, darkness and death greeted her, drawing her down into forever.

Her tears froze on her cheeks and eyelashes as she pushed on. Her hands felt stiff and useless and lethargic, but she fought through it. Her breath puffed out in stark white clouds as the gaping maw that was her mind started to consume her. Her mind slowed to a crawl as she lost herself among broken dreams and the words of a little girl who vanished. Hadora's heart stuttered in her chest until, finally, it fell still. The darkness had won.

Hadora's eyes drifted close, resigned, when she saw bright sparks flash through the emptiness. Lightning. She cringed away from the light as it grew closer. No! Lightning had stolen her daughter and it would take her next. She huddled and scrambled away from the white light as it continued to flare brighter and more brilliant.

An agonizing ache burst in her chest as she screamed. She didn't want to hurt! She wanted it to stop. She wanted it all to stop. She clawed at her chest, trying to dig and rip away the pain, but it remained just out of reach. Hadora fell to her knees and railed against her magic. Why wouldn't it let her die? Why couldn't she have her daughter back? She flinched when the light wrapped around her and dragged her to the surface. She fought and snarled, but it wouldn't release its hold.

"She's alive!"

Hadora's eyes shot open at the suddenly loud voice. Familiar amber eyes stared at her with relief, but they weren't the eyes she wanted to see, and for the first time she loathed looking at them. Madness boiled as she watched her mum, dad, Sirius, and Remus smile. She launched herself at Remus. Hadora didn't care that she didn't have her wand and that fighting like a _Muggle_ was beneath her. She didn't care that for the first time in years his eyes held an emotion that wasn't indifference or anger.

"I hate you!" she screamed, clawing and slapping. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to bleed and break. She screamed and wailed as she attacked him with all of her grief and anger. He had taken everything from her. She had waited years for him to notice her, only to be called trash! Hapachia had given her hope, and yet the Remus of the future—her husband—had done something even more despicable. He had allowed her contact with her daughter and then took her away!

How could he be so dark and twisted that he would willingly destroy her? She pounded her fists against his chest in a mindless rhythm. "I hate you. I hate you!"

"I'm sorry."

"No. You don't get to say that! You took her away from me! Y-you take _everything_ away from me." Hadora collapsed to the ground. "She was beautiful Remus. She was _so _beautiful."

"W-who was?" he stuttered.

Desperate hazel eyes gazed up at him with madness and confusion. Hadn't he felt her when she fell from the sky? Couldn't he smell her scent on Hadora's clothes? Was he really that ignorant, or did he hate her that much? "Our daughter."

Hadora buried her face in her cloak so she wouldn't forget the smell of her daughter. The scent of grass and her own magical residue flooded her nose. Where was Hapachia's scent? Where were the lilacs?

The tenuous grip she had on reality shattered when she saw the horror in Remus's gaze. Her magic had created the one thing she desired more than anything—a child with Remus Lupin. Hapachia was a figment of her magic's imagination. Remus would never love her.


	6. Lilies of the Field

**Title: **Lilies of the Field

**Pairing:** James Potter/Narcissa Black

* * *

"Is Narcissa engaged?"

Sirius choked on his hot chocolate and winced as it burned the back of his throat. He carefully placed his mug on the table and stared at James with disbelief.

"Were you cursed by Snivellus earlier? Did he mess with your brain? Or was it that fall during Quidditch practice? I told you that using a sloth-grip roll to catch the ball that close to the rings was a bad idea." Sirius cast a soft Lumos and aimed it at James's eyes.

James growled and batted away the wand. "Will you stop that! I'm serious." James quickly held up his hand in warning when Sirius opened his mouth for his normal retort. "Don't."

"Fine." He lounged against the chair and cautiously sipped his beverage. Sirius wasn't going to allow James to take him unawares again. His throat and tongue still smarted from the burn and he wouldn't be able to taste anything for a week, but the chocolate was too good to waste.

"Well? Is she?" James asked unrelentingly. Narcissa had been on his mind for the last three weeks and he needed to talk to someone about it. Remus wouldn't question him, but James needed to know if he was making another mistake—like he did with Lily Evans. And the thought of talking to oblivious Peter was out of the question. The guy barely even knew girls existed, or what to do with one. So that left Sirius.

"Are we still talking about this?"

James rolled his eyes. "We never stopped talking about it."

Sirius shook his head. "No. I distinctly remember you asking, and I asked if you had a brain injury. You said no and I accepted your moment of insanity. Conversation done. Over with. Let's move on shall we?"

"It wasn't a moment of insanity, Sirius. I really want to know. Is. Narcissa. Engaged?"

"Oh c'mon! Really? Of all the topics we could be discussing right now, you want to talk about my cousin? Can't we plan how we're going to get Snivellus back for—?"

"No. Now quit stalling and tell me about her," James ordered. Normally he enjoyed bantering with Sirius, but tonight wasn't it. Revenge on Snape was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Why?" Sirius demanded, eyes sternly locked on his best friend.

After James had met Lily Evans and decided that he would marry her, he looked up her name in _The Forgotten Language of Flowers_. The picture of a lily with its pure white petals, yellow stamen, and dark green stem was the most beautiful flower he had ever seen. The meaning written next to it enthralled his thirteen-year-old mind—Majesty. And to him, Lily Evans was majestic in all of her fiery glory.

Years later, when Professor Sprout gave them a specific plant to research and cultivate, James was assigned the narcissus flower. The flowers were small and clustered close together on a branch-like stem, similar to a lilac. This time, though, the message the flower represented wasn't as amazing—Selfishness.

So when Sirius pointed out his cousin, Narcissa, James hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her, and wondered if she was the human manifestation of the narcissus flower. He had never been more wrong in his life.

Her white blonde hair fell in waves to her waist, and her gray eyes looked like storm clouds that would get darker with anger or lighten with joy. Narcissa was graceful and fluid with every action. She didn't walk on the floor; she floated and glided through the air. Her voice was always gentle, even when she was telling someone off.

Narcissa was generous and helped the younger students with their homework if they didn't understand something. He had seen Narcissa in the library showing a second year the correct wand movements for Expelliarmus over and over again until the girl got it correct and Disarmed her. And when she laughed the heavens opened.

Narcissa Black had been hatefully named for a flower that maligned her very character, while Lily Evans had been fortunate enough to receive a name that fooled unsuspecting people into thinking she was something she wasn't—loveable. Lily Evans was a narcissus among a field of beautiful lilies.

"She's a lily," James said, unable to voice the words and thoughts that crowded his mind. How could he explain to Sirius that Narcissa was everything he wanted in a wife, when for the last three years he had said the exact same thing about Lily Evans?

Sirius sneered at the answer. "Have you forgotten about the real Lily you've been after?"

James sighed and slumped in his chair. "Yes."

He hadn't told Sirius about her final rejection two months ago and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He had been chasing after her for years, blind to her personality and solely concentrated on her looks. He had been so sure that they were perfect for each other and that she would change when they were married. Surely she wouldn't yell at him or hex him after they said their vows.

James shook his head at his stupidity. He should have realized they didn't belong together much sooner. "I gave up. She's not worth it."

Sirius nodded after a few moments of silence. "Good. Because I would have hexed you if you said otherwise."

"What? I thought you liked Lily."

"No. But you did, and that was all that mattered. As long as you continued to like her, I would have kept my mouth shut and protected her."

James mind spun at the ramifications of what Sirius just said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "You wouldn't have listened! And besides . . . my mother always told me who I could be friends with and who I would be obligated to marry. She tried to take away my agency, Prongs. I wasn't going to do the same."

James nudged him with gratitude that he couldn't voice and Sirius nudged him back until they were shoving each other and grinning like loons.

"From what I know, Narcissa isn't engaged, though mother was hoping that Malfoy would ask her. She thought they would make a great pair. But then, we both know my mother is insane."

James watched Sirius as he wrestled with a decision. His hands were clenched and his jaw was firmly set. James remained patient, because he knew it must have been important for Sirius to take this long deliberating. He asked another of the kitchen house-elves to refill his hot chocolate and sipped it while he waited.

"Before I go any further, Prongs, you have to be one hundred percent interested in her. If you think you might back out or only got on one date just to 'see how things work out' then I won't tell you any more."

How important was it? James gulped and thought about his changing feelings. He knew Sirius wouldn't accept a rushed answer. James wasn't in love with her, but he knew without a doubt in his mind that he could. She was possibly his future wife and mother of his children if things went the way he wanted them to.

"I am. I don't love her yet, but I know I will."

Sirius nodded grimly. "I hated living at home, Prongs. It was horrible. And yet, I know Narcissa has had it ten times worse. You thought my parents' reaction to me being Sorted into Gryffindor was terrifying, think about my aunt and uncle's reaction when they found out their daughter was a light witch. They viewed it as a betrayal, as if it had somehow been her fault that she was born different."

James's heart hurt. James knew how much Sirius hated his parents and that he pretended the banishment from Black Manor didn't bother him, but James had heard the quiet sobs late at night when Sirius thought everyone was sleeping. Because even though his mother and father were never proud of him, Sirius knew he was still wanted. James was thankful that Sirius hadn't hesitated in showing up at Potter Manor at three in the morning a year ago after being blasted off the Black Family Tapestry. James loved having Sirius live at the manor, and his parents had welcome Sirius with loving arms.

But Narcissa wasn't safe. She still had to return to Black Manor every year. Narcissa was forced to deal with disappointed and vindictive parents. The fact that she had remained so caring and pure was amazing, and made James admire her spirit far more than he had ever admired Lily Evans.

"They want her to marry a dark wizard, Prongs, and it would kill her. Dark magic is cancerous and corrosive. If a light witch married a dark wizard, her husband's dark magic would eat hers and leave her a Squib."

James rushed to the nearest rubbish bin and vomited. The acidic chocolate coated his throat and tongue, making him puke again and again until there was nothing left in his stomach. He kneeled on the floor in exhaustion and cast a sloppy cleaning charm on his mouth. The taste of mint almost made him want to throw up again.

How could a mother willingly marry her daughter to someone that would steal her magic? Just because Narcissa was born with light magic in a family of dark witches and wizards didn't give them the right to kill her.

Would they have killed his mother—Dorea Black—if she hadn't fallen in love and married Charlus Potter? The thought was frightening. He pushed down the frantic desire to Owl his mum and make sure she was safe.

"How could they do that?" James demanded.

"Because they're soul-sucking, heartless Death Eaters that serve an insane megalomaniac."

"I'm not going to let that happen to her, Padfoot. Not Narcissa." James shakily rose to his feet and leaned against the wall until he gained his strength back. He slapped Sirius on the shoulder on the way out the door. "Wish me luck!"

"Wait! Wait a—James! James! It's almost curfew."

He laughed. "We've broken the rules before. I'll be fine." He dropped the act as soon as he left the kitchen. His eyes were clouded with worry and determination. James understood the unspoken warning in Sirius's story. He was Narcissa's only chance, and he better not screw it up.

James pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket and looked at the dungeons. The Slytherin password had changed earlier that day and neither of the Marauders had been able to figure out what it was. James already knew where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was, but he needed the password if he was going to talk to Narcissa. Which meant that he needed someone from the inside to either tell him—which was highly unlikely, or get someone to convince Narcissa to meet him—again, highly unlikely. But it was his only option at this point.

The thought of leaving Narcissa alone without hope for one more night twisted his stomach. She didn't deserve it; he had to make it better. James wanted Narcissa to know that someone cared about her enough to pursue her with honest intentions and that he would fight for her if it was necessary.

Snape always started his Prefect duties a few minutes early, and if James was right that would mean he was going to be—there! James kept an eye on Severus Snape's moving dot and quickly made his way to meet him, because as much as James hated to admit it—he needed the slimy git's help.

"_Potter, w_hat are you doing? Pulling another one of your supercilious pranks?" Snape barked.

James shook his head and talked fast, knowing that Snape wouldn't listen for very long, but slightly offended that Snape thought James would be so easy to spot if he were pulling a prank. "No." He debated about his next few words, threw caution into the wind, and jumped feet first. Sometimes James hated being a Gryffindor. "I need a favor."

Snape sneered and brandished his wand. "Where's your sidekick mutt? Hiding in the dark? Waiting for your signal to jump me from behind?"

James resisted the urge to hex Snape. He loathed it when Snape called Sirius a mutt. "It's just me," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Will you help me or not?"

Snape stared at him for a few seconds and smirked. "No."

James silently cursed Snape in every language and dialect he could think of—which was only four. And said the one thing he never thought he would ever say to Snivellus, "I don't love Lily Evans." James felt selfish satisfaction at the shock on Snape's face that faded as soon as it came.

"You're lying!" Snape snarled like a wounded animal.

James looked away as shame and grief assaulted him. The things he had done in the name of love for Lily Evans were revolting, and James didn't blame Snape one bit for the utter hatred radiating from him. James had been so captivated by her that he had allowed jealousy to overpower him almost daily in his quest to win her love, and he had tormented Snape for the simple reason that Lily and Snape were friends.

"I'm not," James whispered earnestly. "I don't love her." He swallowed the maligning words at the last second. James thought he was in love with the Muggle-born witch for years and he couldn't fault Snape for falling under her charms as well. Maybe with time, Snape would realize what James had—that Lily was too selfish to love anyone but herself.

"What do you want?"

Relief washed over James as Snape agreed. He didn't care what Snape would think of his request because as far as James was considered, Snape wasn't important anymore. Their one connection had been Lily Evans and James no longer wanted her attention.

"Ask Narcissa Black to meet me outside the Slytherin common room and I will consider your life debt paid."

James knew that he didn't need to release Snape from the debt, but he knew it was the proper thing to do. If Sirius hadn't taunted Snape, and almost caused Lupin to kill him during the full moon, then James wouldn't have been forced to save him. For over a year, James had held the debt over Snape's head like a noose and tauntingly toyed with it.

"I assume that if I took you on a long and convoluted route to the common room—"

"It would be a waste of time," James agreed.

"_Obviously."_ Snape pointed his wand at the floor, but didn't put it back in his holster as he motioned for James to follow him.

James matched his pace with Snape so it wouldn't make the Slytherin paranoid about James attacking him. He was already on thin ice and he didn't want to fall in. Snape could decide that he would rather be indebted to James than lead him to the common room; Slytherins were sneaky. James had never been good at trusting Slytherins, but he knew he needed to start practicing. He wanted to date Narcissa Black and he would have to show her he was different than before.

Snape paused in front of an unremarkable section of stone and glared at James. "There are three conditions." James almost protested because he hadn't agreed to anything, but he bit his tongue. "One, you will guarantee that this isn't a prank and no harm will befall Narcissa Black."

The thought of Snape protecting someone other than Lily Evans was shocking. Had Snape always done so? "I promise she'll be safe."

"Two, you stay in this corridor and not enter the common room, under pain of death. I will not have you gallivanting about the Slytherin common room as if you belong there. Step one foot through the door and I will curse it off."

Why would he want to do that? Sure Sirius and James had broken in a few times and set dungbombs off, but the thought of being surrounded by dark wizards while he tried to talk to Narcissa made his skin crawl. He nodded.

"And third, you _will_ accept it if she refuses to meet with you."

The last condition was much harder to agree to because he knew what it would mean for her future if she refused him, but he voiced his agreement. James rehearsed what he was going to say when Snape disappeared through the doorway. He had never talked with Narcissa before, so he had no idea how she would react. Would Narcissa be flattered or annoyed at his attentions?

"Severus said you wanted to talk to me, Potter?"

James whirled around and gazed at her. She was even more ravishing up close. He reached for the words that had fled his mind and floundered in silence. In a panic, he blurted out the first idea that popped into his mind and hoped that it wouldn't ruin his chances. "Picnic. Uh, I wanted to ask if you'd go on a picnic with me on Saturday."

"Picnic?" Narcissa blankly uttered. Her brow was furrowed with confusion and James wanted to smooth out the creases until her face was smooth again.

"I wanted to ask you to accompany me on Hogsmeade Weekend, but it's still two weeks away." James scuffed the floor with his shoe. He sounded like a dork. If Sirius ever found out how James _tried_ to ask out Narcissa, Sirius would never let him live it down. He couldn't look at her in fear of her reaction to his rambling explanation. James didn't know if he could stomach another rejection.

"That sounds wonderful, Pott—"

"James," he said, unable to resist. His last name sounded so formal and stiff coming from her lips. His eyes darted to hers and he grinned. "Please."

Narcissa smiled and nodded. "I would be honored to attend a picnic, James. My favorite food is Treacle Tarts."

James laughed at her unsubtle hint. "I won't disappoint." James felt his mirth fade as her expression grew dark. He longed to take Narcissa into his arms and hold her, so she wouldn't be alone.

"I know." Her gray eyes shined with unshed tears. "Thank you, James."

James grasped her delicate hand in his and lightly kissed her knuckles. He would have no problem falling in love with the beautiful, tender witch in front of him. And he couldn't wait for the day when the words spilled from his lips and entered her heart. But until that day, James would diligently guard his flower's heart as she bloomed among the lilies of the field.


	7. A Rare Proposal

**Title:** A Rare Proposal

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Halthia Black

* * *

Halthia arranged her ebony hair atop her head with a few whispered words. Her fingers tightened around her polished Holly wand, and her breath caught on the last word, almost getting stuck in her throat. She ignored the brief and consuming wave of grief that swept over her, and firmly pushed it into the recesses of her mind. She placed the delicate hair beads given to her by Sirius on her fourteenth birthday and secured them in the curls, making them shimmer in the morning light. Halthia smiled at the stunning effect. Sirius had been right—as always—her hair looked like the night sky twinkling with stars.

"Are you done admiring yourself?" Hermione asked almost acerbically. "You'll be tardy, and there's no such thing as being fashionably late for breakfast."

Halthia shot Hermione a reproachful look. If she hadn't known better she would have thought Hermione had taken verbal sparring lessons from Professor Snape. Professor Snape refused to call her by Lady Black, even though it was her right. The derogatory way he pronounced _Potter_ resulted in her refusing to answer in class, and caused the feud between their families to become even more severe, though she doubted Professor Snape remembered or even cared for such things.

"If you are tired of waiting, go without me," she retorted. She had explained her new responsibilities that she had gained when Sirius—_died —_two years ago. If Hermione wasn't willing to accept her new station and actions that followed, then she should stop harassing Halthia and just leave.

Halthia enjoyed spending time with Hermione, truly she did, but the hours of nagging about barbaric ancient traditions, and stupid laws grated on her nerves. She was already high strung this morning due to the nightmares last night. She really didn't want to get into another row with her best friend.

"I'll wait." Hermione heaved a sighed and plopped on her messy bed. If anyone thought that Hermione would be neat and tidy they would be surprised at the devastation her side of the room had become over the years. She was diligent in her school work and nothing more.

Halthia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her friend's antics and opened the engraved trunk at the end of her bed. She instinctively reached for a pair of black silk gloves and paused as she fingered the delicate fabric. Her eyes danced over the shadows toward the chunky silver ring inlaid with a large sapphire. Sirius's ring. Now hers. She knew that it would shrink if she decided to wear it today. She stared at the deep blue gem as her fingers twitched with the repressed desire to place it on her right ring finger. Not yet, not today. She grabbed the gloves and slammed the trunk.

"Are you okay?"

Halthia glanced up and smiled. No. But Hermione didn't need to know that. It was a blessing that Hermione had no idea what the ring represented. She knew that if Hermione ever figured it out—she had seen Hermione researching pureblood traditions that involved rings three months ago—Hermione would inform her that it was foolish of her not to wear it.

Hermione was wrong.

Halthia sighed as she felt the material slide over her hands. They had felt too bare before. She looked in the mirror to make sure that she looked presentable, and glanced away when she noticed how bright her green eyes were against the black and silver of her robes. Her fingers clenched into claws before she could stop them. Was it insane to hate the color of your eyes? She wished they were gray, like Sirius's were.

She swallowed down the guilt that came with the thought. Her eyes were the only connection that she had to her birth mother, and yet, Sirius had raised her. He had been her family. Even though her surname had been Potter, she defiantly refused to answer unless someone addressed her as 'Black'.

She grabbed her school bag and entered the common room without answering Hermione's initial question. She wasn't in the mood to chat about nonsensical things. She was tired of everyone around her acting as if she would break at any moment. She wasn't fragile—not anymore.

Halthia smiled politely, if a little coldly, at the few people who greeted her, and walked toward the Great Hall. Her mind wandered as she thought about this morning. What had drawn her eyes to the ring? It had been months since she had even thought about its significance. For the past two years without hesitation she would pull a pair of black silk gloves from her trunk every morning. Something had changed. The thought niggled at her mind, drawing her attention away from her friend who chattered beside her. Halthia was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the sudden deafening silence that permeated the hallway.

"What do you want, Smoot?" Hermione demanded.

Halthia stared at the boy that had appeared from nowhere, as if he had dramatically removed an invisibility cloak. Smoot? She gave a mental wince. That was a very sad name. She hoped for his sake that it wasn't his given name.

"I wanted to ask Lady Black if I may have a moment of her time before breakfast," Smoot said.

Halthia's heart plummeted. Did he really just ask for 'a moment of her time'? A snide curse rested on the tip of her tongue. She knew it wouldn't cause much pain, only be mildly humiliating. Surely Sirius would forgive her for her breach of misconduct.

"No."

The tension in the hall rose a few degrees, though Halthia paid it no mind. The anger that had been bubbling to the surface calmed when she felt Draco Malfoy's magic flare in challenge.

Smoot's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't—"

"The answer is no. She is not interested. And I _kindly_ suggest that you do not pursue the matter further if you wish to leave your family honor intact." Draco smirked. "Lady Black, you look ravishing as always. Are those hair beads new, perhaps?"

Halthia glanced at Draco with masked confusion. Draco knew that they had been a gift from Sirius. She reached up and touched the twinkling jewels. A gasp drew her attention away from Draco and toward the young man who was now pale.

Smoot bowed. "My apologies, Lady Black."

Halthia still didn't know what exactly was happening, but she wasn't going to allow that to show on her face. "Of course. . ."

"Heir," Draco murmured.

"Heir Smoot," Halthia smoothly continued. She silently thanked Draco for his assistance. She hadn't even known if Smoot had a title. She waited until he had left their presence before she turned to Draco to demand answers.

"Are they still silk?" he asked.

Halthia was used to Draco starting conversations in the middle. She didn't understand why, but whenever they talked, he would always begin as if they had already had part of the conversation. "Are what still silk?"

"Your mourning gloves."

Halthia gazed at him with befuddlement. Of course he was talking about her gloves. She had chosen silk because Sirius loved the fabric more than any other. He said other fabrics were too coarse and unrefined. They chaffed his skin and made him feel less than he was. So after Sirius's funeral, she hadn't thought twice about what fabric her mourning gloves would be.

It was a tradition dating back centuries that many of the older pureblood families kept. When a loved one died, the remaining unbonded females would don black gloves for a year. It was an ensign that they would not be accepting bonding proposals, until they were past their grief and mourning. The tradition required was only a year, but Halthia had worn them for two.

Halthia caught a flash of something in his eyes, but couldn't discern what it was. She sighed and took a small step away. "Yes."

Draco nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. "I trust you will be careful. Not everyone holds traditions as high as we do." Hermione snorted, eliciting an icy glare.

Halthia smiled at his concern. She had been an absolute wreck after Sirius's death. For months, her magic would lash out. If it hadn't been for Professor McGonagall's foresight to pair them together on an assignment, she was positive that her control would have declined even more.

When her magic had lashed out, his had responded. Draco hadn't tried to overpower her as Hermione said almost every time Draco was mentioned. He had simply given her magic something to pound and rage against. She had lost her only remaining family member, so of course her magic was off-kilter and enraged. Only Draco had calmed her magic and allowed her to mourn for Sirius without wallowing in self-pity.

She let her magic lightly touch his, letting him know that she understood his concern. She knew that it was probably worse than cursing Smoot in public, but she needed it. Halthia needed to know that he was there and that he wasn't going to leave her.

Cold washed over her. She allowed Hermione to lead her by the arm to the Gryffindor table. Normally she would have pulled her arm away, but she felt as if she needed the help. She loved Draco Malfoy. For how long she wasn't sure, but she did.

He protected her from unwanted suitors and made her smile and laugh. His magic helped her through the toughest time of her life. His gray eyes, different from Sirius's, made her want to live again. Draco made her want to remove the silk gloves and show the world her bare hands for the first time in years.

She looked at the Slytherin table with her heart in her throat. Without hesitation her gaze fell on Draco, talking and eating with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The dark blue trim on his robes enhanced his handsome looks. Ever since she discovered that dark blue was one of his family colors, she had fallen in love with it.

Halthia took a bite of buttered toast and choked. The ring. She had been drawn to the ring because it reminded her of Draco. She took a quick sip of pumpkin juice and set the rest of the piece down.

"Halthia, are you listening?" Hermione asked.

Halthia placed her trembling hands in her lap, wondering if she was blowing everything out of proportion. A deep chuckle rent the air and she knew instinctively that it was Draco. No. She wasn't.

"Halthia, I know that Malfoy has helped you these past few years," Hermione started, "and you might feel—"

"I love him." Halthia whispered so softly, Hermione almost didn't hear it.

Hermione remained silent and nodded. "Okay. But be careful. Because if he hurts you, I'll lock him in the closet on the fifth floor. There's a boggart in there and I bet Malfoy could use the practice to perfect his Patronus."

Halthia shuddered. She had hated boggarts since her third year at Hogwarts and knew that fear wouldn't leave anytime soon.

"Are you going to wait for—?" Hermione gasped when Halthia shook her head.

"I can't wait that long, Hermione. It would be better for me to know than to pine from afar like a wilting flower." Halthia knew she would be taking an immense risk, but she was sure of her affection toward him. She needed to know. If he didn't . . . she didn't want to think about that possible outcome.

"Wait. I thought pureblood ladies weren't allowed to declare their intentions," Hermione said under the din of conversation.

"It's outdated, but not unheard of. And you're forgetting one thing, Hermione. I'm the daughter of two Marauders." Halthia grinned mischievously for the first time in years.

—

Halthia glanced in her trunk and carefully removed the ring. She caressed the stone and the intricate etchings in the metal. Could she really do this? Yesterday she had declared to Hermione that she would essentially propose to Draco. It was rare in pureblood culture.

She wasn't even sure of Draco's affection. Maybe he wasn't in love with her. Maybe he just found her witty and charming. After all, most pureblood witches were inane, vapid things that only cared about securing themselves a rich husband.

_"You're just in denial, Pup. You still think that you can't have anything, when in fact you can have everything."_

Halthia smiled as Sirius's voice echoed in her mind. She knew Sirius hadn't been talking about Draco when he said that, but she didn't care. For the last year she had denied herself happiness because of grief and guilt. She shouldn't have run off to the Ministry that night. Sirius shouldn't have died. But he did. And it was time to move on. She would always miss Sirius, but she knew he wouldn't want her to mourn him for one more day. She slipped the ring into her robe pocket and shut the lid, avoiding the dark abyss of her black mourning gloves.

When she got to the Owlery, she dropped the ring into an envelope and sealed it with the Black House seal. She handed it to Hedwig and quickly gave her instructions before she changed her mind. As the snowy owl flew out the tower window, doubt seized her, making it hard to breathe.

Halthia knew that if she entered the Great Hall for breakfast without her gloves and wearing Sirius's ring, it would allow suitors to start vying for her attention immediately. However, since she was only san gloves no one would be able to formally ask her until tomorrow. A small comfort. She knew that not wearing her mourning gloves would circulate the school in a matter of minutes.

Draco would receive an envelope that he wasn't expecting ten minutes after she entered the Great Hall. If he accepted her proposal—because that was what it was—he would place the ring on his right ring finger.

She would still take his name when they bonded, but everyone would always know that she had asked him. Draco, while sweet at times, had his pride. Would her offer of bonding be enough for him to cast it aside? She uncharacteristically nibbled her lips. Perhaps she should have waited and hoped that he would notice and return her affection, but she was tired of losing the people she loved. If he rejected her offer then she knew he wasn't worth waiting for. Pain stabbed her at the thought.

"Halthia, did you send it?" Hermione asked, almost bouncing alongside her when they met again in the main hall.

Halthia nodded. Her hands felt bare and weird. She hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on her gloves. They had distanced the world and now she felt vulnerable. In less than half an hour, Draco would know of her intention and she would know his.

"Lady Black, good morning," Draco said.

Halthia's hand shook as she forced herself to hold out her hand, palm down. It had been two years since she had last performed this tradition. Her hand hung in the air for a few seconds, as Draco stared at her with shock. He quickly regained his composure and brought her knuckles to his lips in a light kiss.

Her hand tingled at the contact and her breath caught in her chest. There was no going back; she had already made the first step. By offering Draco her bare hand she had declared that she was permitting courtship offers tomorrow. Halthia mentally scoffed. Only moments ago she had made a more terrifying decision, and yet she was shaking like a leaf in the wind. What must he think of her?

"Heir Malfoy, good morning." She wanted to say more to him, but wasn't able to speak.

Halthia walked to the Gryffindor table amid rumors and whispers. She felt weak and she hated it. Halthia didn't bother loading her plate with food. She wouldn't be able to keep anything down. She kept her eyes on her plate until she heard the screech of the owls. Her eyes jumped to Draco, unsurprised to find him already watching her.

Hedwig landed in front of Draco and extended her foot. Halthia wanted to tear her eyes away from him, but she couldn't. A few curious people who tried to look in the envelope backed off when Draco glared. He emptied the contents of the envelope into his hand and stared at it.

Halthia waited. And waited. And waited.

Had she been wrong?

Piercing gray eyes locked onto her, spearing her to the bench. She refused to budge. If he rejected her, then she wanted to see it—every horrible moment. Draco smirked and placed the ring on his right ring finger, his eyes never leaving her gaze. He said a few words to Nott and Zabini and nodded toward her. He waltzed over to the Gryffindor table and gracefully sank into the empty space next to her.

"If I had known you were going to propose to me during breakfast, I would have dressed for the occasion."

Halthia blurted words before she could stop herself. "You look perfect." She had learned very early in their friendship that any sort of compliments made his ego swell.

Draco's smirk widened. "Perfect. Hmm. I like the sound of that. We're having a summer bonding, of course."

"Spring. You are wearing my ring after all," she said, unwilling to let him get the upper hand. "Your mother will be thrilled."

When they had been children, Narcissa had read them a bedtime story where the woman proposed. Draco had adamantly declared that he would never accept such a proposal because it was the man's duty. Narcissa scolded him to 'never say never', and that it would serve him right if that happened to him when he grew older.

Draco chuckled. "I'm wearing your ring, but you'll take my name."

Halthia felt warmth rush through her. She glanced at the ring sitting innocently on his right hand and envisioned the future and all that it could hold. She pictured teasing, laughter, gray eyes and dark heads, the sound of small feet and the promise of a lifetime of love.

Halthia Malfoy. She had never heard anything more beautiful.


	8. Cracks in the Hourglass

**Title: **Cracks in the Hourglass

**Pairing: **Ron Weasley/Harmonia Potter, Lee Jordan/Harmonia Potter

* * *

**Year One**

"You'll be in Gryffindor, of course. Your mum and dad were," Ron Weasley said as they waited for their turn to be Sorted.

Harmonia's hands shook as she stared at the hat that would decide where she would spend the next seven years. It would dictate her friends, where she slept, ate and her future. She knew Ron Weasley thought that all Slytherins were evil. He had already said it multiple times since they had been introduced on the Hogwarts Express. He had gotten a weird gleam in his eyes when she told him her name but it was gone as quickly as it had come. She dismissed it as shock. Hagrid had told her about her parents' death a few weeks before, and people in the Leaky Cauldron had kicked up a fuss about her as well.

Hagrid also said that Slytherins were dark wizards. A Slytherin murdered her parents—she still couldn't quite grasp that they had been killed by magic and not a Muggle car crash. It seemed too farfetched and something she would dream about. She knew weird things happened around her and she was relieved to finally put a name to it other than 'freakishness' but it didn't _feel_ real yet.

Harmonia looked around the Great Hall and tried to take everything in. Candles were floating and not dripping wax even though they were burning bright. The ceiling looked like the night sky—a crescent moon peeked out from behind gray clouds. A hat sitting on a three-legged stool sang a song and kept talking. It was weird. She felt lost amid a strange sea and couldn't tell which way was land.

Did she really fit in here? Her parents were dead and she somehow—someway that she didn't understand—defeated the strongest Dark Lord. A part of her wanted to return to the Dursleys because at least she understood how things worked there. She knew that stealing food resulted in being locked in the cupboard under the stairs. She knew that anything 'freakish' resulted in more chores that needed to be done. It wasn't pleasant, but it _was_ familiar. While a different and stronger part said that she needed to stay here. Both sides were warring in her mind and she didn't know which one would win.

"Potter, Harmonia."

The whispers started again as she walked toward the hat. Her insides cringed at the thought of turning around and facing all of the stares. She wasn't special. She was only a little girl; why couldn't they understand that? Ever since she had entered the magical world people had been desperate to touch her or thank her. It felt wrong!

_Not Slytherin._ She begged. She wanted to remain unseen and unimportant. Harmonia knew her wish would never be granted, but if she was Sorted into Slytherin then the whispers would never stop. It had happened enough times in Surrey—rumors about her being a delinquent and the Dursleys taking her in out of the goodness of their hearts. If she was a Slytherin people would assume that she was evil and Harmonia wouldn't be able to handle the pressure of a whole new culture _and_ the suspicion of an entire school.

_Not Slytherin, Eh? It could help you._

Harmonia shook her head. Maybe it would help her but she couldn't chance it. She looked at the remaining first years waiting to be Sorted and watched Ron. He was her only friend and if he thought Slytherins were evil then that would transfer to her if she became one. She needed him. He knew more about the wizarding world than she did and she had never been good at making friends.

_If you're sure._

_I am._

"Gryffindor!"

Harmonia sighed and hopped off the stool as the Gryffindor table burst into raucous cheers and singing. She handed the hat to her new Head of House and sat down between two red-heads that she recognized from the platform.

"I'm Gred and this is Forge!"

"Fred and George Weasley, don't confuse her on the first day. Let her settle in for at least a week," A black boy sitting across from them said.

Fred flushed. "Right. Welcome to Gryffindor."

Harmonia beamed at them. The nervousness was gone and replaced with a warm feeling that she had made the right choice.

"And this is Lee Jordan." Gred gestured at the boy who had spoken earlier. "He's our best friend—"

"Fellow troublemaker—"

"And excellent duelist!"

The boy's skin was the color of the chocolate frog she had eaten on the train ride. His brown eyes were so dark they looked like coal in the candlelight, and his black dreadlocks were pulled back in a low ponytail. He was shorter than Fred and George and had broader shoulders. His wizarding robes were of higher quality and their cut was similar to Malfoys. She tried to not let that bother her. Malfoy was a git and she hoped that didn't mean Lee was too.

"And you better remember that the next time you try to hex my pillow or I will hex you black and blue and then order Kali to bite you." Lee smirked.

"Is Kali your owl?" Harmonia asked. She hadn't met anyone that had an owl like she did. Ron had a disgusting pet rat named Scabbers and Neville Longbottom had a toad named Trevor. Harmonia still didn't know why Hagrid bought her an owl. Owls delivered letters and she didn't have anyone to write. What was the point of having an owl if Hedwig couldn't do anything?

Lee exchanged a glanced with the twins. "No. She's my pet tarantula."

Harmonia frowned. Didn't the letter say they could only have a cat, owl or toad? She nodded when they continued to stare at her. It was a secret. She was good at keeping secrets.

"Don't let Ron hear you say that. He'd faint," George chimed in, and dramatically portrayed his brother fainting as he fell into Fred's arms.

She snickered at the thought of Ron fainting because he saw a daddy long leg. Ron was scared of spiders? That was weird. Weren't only girls were afraid of spiders? Boys were supposed to be brave and kill them. She wanted to tease Ron when he sat a few seats away from her, but she was distracted by the Headmaster announcing that it was time for dinner.

Harmonia selected her favorites and listened as they continued to joke around and talk about what happened to them over the summer holiday. She couldn't wait until she could do the same after she made more friends. Her eyes landed on Ron who was shoveling food into his mouth and grimaced. That was gross.

"Are you afraid of spiders, Lady Potter?" Lee asked.

It took Harmonia a few seconds to realize Lee was speaking to her. Lady Potter? What was he talking about? She wasn't a lady. Was he making fun of her? "My name's Harmonia, not Lady."

Lee flushed and glared at the Weasley twins. "She doesn't know?"

"We met her on the platform, Lord Jordan, and we only said a few words to her," George protested.

Harmonia gulped her pumpkin juice. Lee was a lord? She didn't know anything about lords or ladies. Lee's eyes weren't sparkling with humor anymore, and Fred was pale. Was she supposed to have a title, too? Le—Lord Jordan addressed her as Lady Potter after all. It had to mean something, right?

"If she has no idea who she is, then she also won't know about that other thing!" Lord Jordan barked.

Fred winced and glanced down the table at his younger brother. "And Ickle-Ronnikins would never tell her though the git's been bragging about it since he was four."

"Tell me what?" Harmonia demanded. She already felt like she didn't know enough about this world, and if people were keeping secrets from her she'd scream and poke them with her wand.

"Ask to meet with Professor McGonagall, your Head of House, and tell her that Lord Jordan sent you. Say that you don't know about the contract and she'll understand," Lord Jordan said.

Harmonia didn't respond right away. What contract? She stabbed her chicken when Lord Jordan didn't say anything more. She hated it when people refused to tell her things. It made her feel ignorant and unprepared.

"She'll explain everything, I promise."

Harmonia's head shot up at the words. Those two words were powerful. You could tell a person's character by how well they kept their promises. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, looking for any signs of guilt or hesitation. He believed it. Lord Jordan knew that Professor McGonagall would help her. She could trust him.

"Okay."

—

"She's a bloody know-it-all and it's annoying! She should have been Sorted into Ravenclaw!" Ron said as they walked through the courtyard.

Harmonia winced as Ron continued to ramble about Hermione Granger. She hadn't talked to her very much, but Harmonia liked Hermione well enough. Hermione had helped her when she was struggling a few times during their first week. In return Harmonia made sure to greet her in the halls, but she didn't actively strive to become friends with the Muggleborn.

Harmonia had too many things to occupy her mind the last month to do more. She had followed Lord Jordan's advice and talked to Professor McGonagall after Transfiguration the next day. Professor McGonagall had been thrilled to explain that there was a betrothal contract between her and Ron Weasley—though Professor McGonagall didn't know everything that it entailed. Only family members were able to read the contract. The fact that her parents allowed a betrothal contract to be signed a year after her birth boggled her mind. They must have trusted the Weasleys immensely to sign something that important. She still didn't know how she felt about it.

If he knew about her taking lessons with Professor McGonagall would he tell her to stop taking those? Lord Jordan was the one that told her to go to Professor McGonagall when it _should_ have been Ron. She knew what that gleam in his eyes was now—possessiveness. Uncle Vernon eyes had it every time he looked at his new car or new TV.

Harmonia barely tolerated him as a friend. He was loud and crass at times. His temper was already famous at school because he would get upset frequently and wouldn't apologize for days. Harmonia wasn't sure if she wanted to be married to someone that could say such hurtful words and expect her to immediately forgive him. She had seen the pain in Percy's eyes and it hadn't gone away. Harmonia wondered if Ron noticed.

Over the past month, Harmonia learned more about wizarding culture while she spent time with her Head of House than she did during class. Harmonia read the books Professor McGonagall gave her and borrowed more from the library when she found a topic that really interested her. She continued to take lessons in etiquette and pureblood traditions after dinner were over.

With every lesson she went to, Harmonia felt better equipped to live in the magical society and felt more comfortable among them. She walked with her back straight and her head held high rather than slouching as her confidence grew.

"Harmonia?"

Harmonia's magic prickled at the use of her given name when she hadn't given him permission. She soothed it with a few whispered words. They were betrothed. It was okay if they addressed each other by their given names.

"Don't talk to Granger anymore. She's a bad influence."

Harmonia couldn't believe it. Hermione wasn't a bad influence. She actually cared about her schoolwork and had ambition. Hermione loved to learn and wasn't afraid to show how smart she was, unlike Harmonia. Harmonia still held back in class because she was used to Dudley getting angry when she got a higher grade than him. Ron's face overlapped Dudley's in her mind and she frowned. Ron would be the same. He already complained when Hermione corrected him during class, and if she started to as well he would hate her. And she didn't want to be alone.

—

Harmonia stared at the mirror with awe. Her reflection was beautiful! She was older, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Her hair was swept up with elaborate braids, and her eyes sparkled and shined with laughter and love. An impish grin highlighted her dimples as she was hugged from behind.

Harmonia couldn't make out all of his features but it had to be Ron. Ron was the only person she person she spent time with on a regular basis other than bumping into Lord Jordan in the hallway between classes. She turned to her fiancé and imagined the man he would become. His fiery hair would be shades darker, and blue eyes would remain bright and cheerful. Would he have broad or narrow shoulder? Would his hands be hard from Quidditch training, or soft like they were now?

"What do you see?" Harmonia asked filled with excitement. When she had discovered what the mirror really did a few nights ago she couldn't wait to show it to him! The first few nights she had seen her parents and then it had changed to the one she saw now.

"I'm holding the House Cup."

Th-the House Cup. His heart's desire was the House Cup! Tears fell down her cheeks as mind numbing pain shot through her. She wasn't more important than a trophy? Is that why he never told her that she was Lady Potter and they were engaged?

Was she stupid for wishing for a family? She wanted to know what it was like to be held and protected. Ron talked about his brothers and sister as if they didn't matter and were annoying. But how was the possible? Percy was sometimes overbearing, but he wanted them to be safe, that was why he didn't want them out after hours.

Fred and George played pranks on him, but they were never cruel or harmful and the effects usually went away in a few hours. And a week ago, she had seen them hex a Ravenclaw for badmouthing Ron. Why couldn't Ron see how much he was loved?

She stared at the Harmonia in the mirror and choked back a sob. She pulled the cloak's hood over her head so Ron couldn't see her and then ran from the room.

**Year Two**

Harmonia blankly stared at the crackling fire in the common room. She had given up falling asleep hours ago. The voice in the walls haunted her dreams and kept her awake at night even when it disappeared. She felt like she was growing crazy! She wanted to talk to Ron about it but something pulled her back. It was as if her magic refused the idea and wouldn't allow her to voice her concerns.

No one else could hear the basilisk, though Harmonia thought there would be more Parselmouths in the school. Surely she wasn't the only one! But Harmonia observed her peers and they never twitched or cringed from the threats that echoed from the walls. Ever since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened the basilisk moved through the pipes and Petrified Muggleborn and half-blood students.

No one knew who was behind the attacks but considering only Slytherin's heir would be able to control the monster, speculation about who Slytherin's heir was circulated the school. Currently almost everyone thought it was Malfoy, and he was eating up the attention with a silver spoon.

Harmonia didn't care who the heir of Slytherin was. She just wanted the voice to go away. She hated hearing the threats of death and hunger. She knew the snake was getting frustrated with every attack that didn't end in death. It was annoyed and Harmonia knew that the basilisk would kill someone if it wasn't stopped.

"Lady Potter, are you okay?"

Harmonia tensed and then relaxed when Lord Jordan stepped into view. He had always been kind to her. They had talked a few times since her first year, but their exchanges were fleeting and around many people. They had never been alone before though and she already felt vulnerable from little sleep.

"I'm fine," she lied. She was exhausted and hadn't slept well in the last few days. The skin under her eyes was bruised with dark shadows and charmed with a glamour so she wouldn't worry anyone.

"Don't lie to me," he ordered. "I don't care what you tell everyone else, but please, Lady Potter, don't lie to me."

Harmonia swallowed around the lump of emotions in her throat and nodded. Few people asked for the truth these days. They were more interested in rumors and gossip and she couldn't deny his request.

"I'm a Parselmouth." Harmonia blushed when Lord Jordan sat in the armchair opposite the couch and gave her his full attention. Even Ron never listened to her completely. He always interrupted her or would talk over her when he grew bored.

"Have you told—?"

Harmonia laughed derisively. "Of course not." Their eyes met and they both knew what she wasn't saying. Ron would panic if he found out that Harmonia could talk to snakes. She looked away from the question in Lord Jordan's eyes and stared at the flames. Harmonia knew Lord Jordan would keep her secret.

**Year Three**

"I'll protect you, Harmonia. He won't be able to get past me," Ron boasted.

Harmonia didn't bother pointing out that he couldn't even levitate a feather properly, let alone fight off a mass murderer who escaped from Azkaban. She'd rather trust the teachers. She mentally rolled her eyes and continued doing her homework that was due tomorrow.

"What's the answer to number seven?"

Harmonia frowned and glanced at Ron who watched her. He knew she didn't like it when he asked for the answers. Harmonia wanted him to figure it out for himself. She wasn't going to let him skate through school on her coattails because he didn't want to study. "Why don't you read the chapter again? Profess—Ron! Give that back!" Harmonia demanded when Ron stole her homework from her finished pile.

"It's fine, Harmonia. You're my fia—friend after all."

Harmonia's eyes narrowed when she caught his slip. He almost said fiancée and then changed it. He still wasn't willing to admit that they were engaged and she wasn't sure which annoyed her more—Ron's denial or him stealing her work as if he had the right to copy her answers!

During her first year, Harmonia told herself that she would give Ron a chance since her mum and dad wrote the contract binding them together, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could take. There were cracks in the hourglass she had given their possible future relationship.

Fred sauntered over and grabbed the paper from Ron's hands. "All done with your homework, Ickle-Ronnikins?" He glanced at it and laughed. "Wow! You must have been working tirelessly to improve your handwriting, lil' brother, because you write like a girl. Either that or you accidentally grabbed Lady Potter's work instead of your own." His grin was vicious.

A few students gasped and Ron shrunk in his chair. Good. He deserved a dressing down. She was tired of him nagging her to help him when he didn't even try to study. The twins had higher grades than Ron did because they knew to start a business they needed good grades.

"Sorry, Harmonia. I took yours by mistake."

Fred handed her the assignment and winked. "If you ever have a question about your homework, George and Lord Jordan"—he smirked when she blushed—"would be happy to help you."

Her eyes darted to the table where George and Lord Jordan were watching the exchange. She smiled at Lord Jordan and mouthed, "Thank you." She knew Lord Jordan had sent Fred over. It hadn't been the first time Lord Jordan or one of the twins intervened when she had problems with Ron.

—

Harmonia groaned in pain. Her eyelids felt heavy and gritty. She forced her eyes open and grimaced at the white walls and the white sheets. Hospital. She glanced around in confusion. What happened?

"Thank goodness you're safe," Lord Jordan said with relief. "When you fell from your broom . . . I thought you were dead."

The Dementors! Harmonia cringed from the memory of her mother's voice screaming at Lord Voldemort to spare her. Lord Voldemort had killed her mum anyway. She shook away the depressing memories and looked at Lord Jordan. She didn't know how long he had been waiting for her to wake up but it must have been a while. His dreadlocks weren't tied back, and his clothes were rumpled. It brought a smile to her face. He waited for her.

Where was Ron? Shouldn't he be here, too? She winced as she tried to sit up. He wasn't there. She knew they had gotten into a small row earlier that day, but she was injured. What kind of man didn't visit his fiancée when she was in the hospital?

"Are you okay?"

Harmonia's mind flashed to a different night a year ago when he had asked the same question. She smiled around the pain. Ron wasn't here and she wasn't alone. "I'm fine."

He looked about to protest and then nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. The Dementors were somehow able to get past the wards. You fell from over a hundred feet. If the Headmaster hadn't been able to halt your progress . . . you would have died."

Harmonia shivered. She always knew Quidditch was dangerous but she had never fallen off her broom before. "Are they gone?"

Lord Jordan smiled and grasped her hand. "They're gone. Dumbledore banished them and fixed the breach in the wards that allowed them entrance onto Hogwarts' grounds."

Harmonia glanced at his hand and smiled. His magic was calming and clean. Ron's always felt disorganized and wild. She squeezed his hand and laced their fingers together. She had spent most of the year afraid that the Dementors would leech every good memory that she had and leave her with nothing left. Fighting against the Boggart a few weeks ago in Defense Against the Dark Arts hadn't helped calm her fears and she knew tonight she would have nightmares.

"I can't believe—"

"We lost! I know!" Ron yelled as he walked into the hospital wing and toward her bed. "After you fell, Cedric Diggory grabbed the snitch and Huffplepuff won! Can you believe that? I can't. He said they shouldn't count it since Dementors interfered with the match, but it had already been called before they found out why you fell."

Harmonia's good spirits plummeted. He was upset about a stupid Quidditch game? She could have died! Who cared if Hufflepuff won the stupid House Cup this year!

"Aren't you going to ask if she's okay?" Lord Jordan demanded in a clipped tone. She was glad that he hadn't released her hand yet. She needed his magical and emotional support. She didn't know if she could tolerate Ron's presence otherwise.

"Of course she's all right. She'd sitting up, isn't she?"

Harmonia felt any good feelings she had toward Ron Weasley shatter. He didn't care about Harmonia; he only cared about Lady Potter. She was just another trophy for him to win and show off. "I'm so tired, Mister Ron, can we talk about this later?" She knew he wouldn't notice the name change. He was oblivious about anything that didn't involve Quidditch.

"But—"

"Please, Mister Ron. I can barely keep my eyes open," Harmonia begged. She knew she looked pathetic so it wasn't very hard for him to agree. "Thank you."

"Shouldn't _he_ leave too?"

Harmonia gritted her teeth at the disrespect. Lord Jordan was higher ranked than Weasley and he was kinder. He had done way more for her than her own fiancée had! "He has detention. Professor Sprout gave him hospital duty." She wasn't going to force Lord Jordan to leave when he was the one that had stayed with her while she was unconscious and protected her. She closed her eyes and didn't open them until Weasley left.

"Why are you engaged to that moron?" Lord Jordan demanded. "I know you don't like him. I like—" Lord Jordan cursed and ran a hand over his face. "He's a complete and utter prat!"

"I can't break the contract," Harmonia brokenly whispered.

"Yes you—"

"You're not listening to me, Lord Jordan. I _can't_ break the contract! I tried. After Weasley stole my homework and tried to copy it, I looked our betrothal contract up in the library. I wanted to see if there was a way to break it because we aren't compatible. But it's Morgana's Contract!"

Harmonia felt him flinch. Morgana's Contract was the most binding betrothal contract. Fearful that her daughter would refuse to marry Merlin, Morgana's mother forged a contract made from pure magic that would only ever be void if the Merlin declared her unsuitable. Merlin was enthralled by Morgana and fell in love at first sight, and even though Morgana was in love with King Arthur—her best friend—she was forced to marry Merlin. King Arthur married Guinevere a few weeks later. Morgana never forgave Merlin for taking away her future and poisoned her husband in revenge. She would forever be known as Morgana the Betrayer.

Harmonia's parents used the same contract to bond her to Ronald Weasley. Maybe they were afraid because the war but she still cursed them. She barely tolerated Weasley's presence and she still had to marry him. She was doomed to a loveless marriage. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

She wished that she had a choice. Harmonia looked at Lord Jordan and felt her heart flop in her chest. She longed to do more than hold his hand. She wanted to hug him and talk to him for hours without worrying about Weasley's reaction. Harmonia knew he felt the same way. He always greeted her in the morning during breakfast and talked to her when they met each other in the halls. He was the one she wanted! Not Weasley! She forced herself to release his hand and turn away.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"I know."

**Year Four**

Harmonia stalked into the common room and grabbed Weasley by the arm. She dragged him up the stairs to the boy dorm room and slammed the door. She threw up the strongest privacy ward and silencing charm she knew. Her magic lashed out and bubbled beneath the surface of her skin. She knew that if Weasley wasn't careful her magic would destroy the room, but he would have to take that risk.

"Is it true?" she demanded.

"Is what true?"

Harmonia reigned in her temper and forced herself to explain. "Lavender Brown just told me that you asked Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball. Is. It. True?"

He winced. "Yes."

Her magic shredded the curtains and ripped the blankets. Weasley asked another girl to the ball when he was still engaged to her! She hated him! "Why!"

"It wasn't my fault! She's so beautiful and well—"

"I'm not?" she barked, feeling hurt. She wasn't the most beautiful witch but she was still very pretty. The fact that he was trying to make her feel less confident and sure of her looks rankled. She loathed how he picked and prodded her as if he could make her less than what she was.

"She's a veela, Harmonia, a veela."

"And that means you have to lust after her? She isn't perfect, Mister Ron! She's using her allure on _every_ boy here. You're not _special_."

The thought of Fleur Delacour going to the Yule Ball with Ron Weasley was ridiculous. She sneered. The tramp had been using her allure ever since she had gotten here. Harmonia knew Delacour had control over her power. She only used it when men were around so she could get them to do whatever she desired. They turned into drooling slaves. It was disgusting.

"Just because we're engaged doesn't mean I can't go to the ball with someone else!" he protested and then clapped his hands over his mouth in shock.

"What? You thought I didn't know?" she smirked at his growing horror. "You thought that no one told me about the betrothal contract? I've known since first year. And I won't let you go to the ball with some tramp because she tickles your fancy! You're my fiancé and you better start acting like it!"

Weasley scowled. "I don't have to listen to you, Harmonia. I read the contract, too! I know _exactly_ what it says and I'm not bound to it like you are."

Harmonia heart froze. It was true. There was nothing in the contract that guaranteed his loyalty or fidelity. "Then release me!" she demanded. The thought of this farce engagement was too much. She hated it with every fiber of her being. If he released her she would be able to be with Lord Jordan. She knew he would offer for her. "You don't love me! You don't care about me! Release me!"

"No." He shook his head and smiled at her furious expression. "I may not love you, Harmonia, but you are too valuable to lose." He caressed her cheek with the tip of his finger. "You're Harmonia Potter, the girl who lived, the youngest seeker of the century, and you're all mine."

**Year Five**

"They should have made me Quidditch Captain," Weasley said. "We wouldn't have lost to _Hufflepuff_ in the first game if I was Captain."

Harmonia bit her lip to stop herself from yelling at him. She hadn't spoken a word to him since their fight last year. He still talked to her but she never responded. She knew it wouldn't matter anyway. Weasley still refused to release her from their engagement and she would never be able to be with Lord Jordan. She blinked away tears.

After their argument Harmonia avoided Lord Jordan, even though the goblet selected him for the Second Task. Harmonia was able to spin the story so people understood that Lord Jordan had helped her prepare for the tournament. It made sense for him to be chosen, though Lord Jordan and the Weasley twins knew the real reason. She was in love with him.

"You would make a terrible Captain, _Ronald_," Lord Jordan chimed in from a few seats over.

She gripped her wand so tight that her knuckles turned white. Harmonia couldn't look at him. If she did then all of her pent up feelings would gush to the surface and be laid bare for everyone.

"What?" Ron bellowed.

"I said that Harmonia would be a better Captain, then you," Lord Jordan stated, he gave her a subtle wink.

Harmonia silently cursed him for dragging her into the spat. For the past four months, Lord Jordan would pick a fight with Weasley, and Weasley would challenge him to a duel. Lord Jordan would accept and win, which would only anger Weasley even more. The third time Lord Jordan had done it, made her suspicious. He was after something. Lord Jordan never did anything without a purpose. Was he displeased that she didn't talk to him? Was he trying to get back at her? No. He wouldn't do that.

"I'm a better Quidditch player than she'll ever be!"

Harmonia snorted. She was the youngest seeker of the century and had played on the Gryffindor team for five years. Weasley only passed the try-out a few months ago. He was clumsy in the air and sucked as a keeper, though he had been better than the others who tried out for the position.

"And you still _lost_," Lord Jordan reminded him. He lounged in his chair and smirked as if he knew what was coming next.

"I challenge you to a duel!" Weasley declared.

Many people in the common room sighed and moved their stuff. Harmonia didn't blame them. This was the second duel between them this week. She put away her assignment and moved her bag out of the way. She already knew how this would end. Weasley's dueling ability hadn't gotten any better in the last three days. Lord Jordan would win. The only true question was, how long would it take? The duels seemed to get shorter and shorter.

"I accept." Lord Jordan emerged from his chair like a lion. "What will you bet? Pigwidgeon? Your autographed picture of Viktor Krum? A Hippogriff quill?"

With each item Lord Jordan listed, Weasley grew more and more flushed. He had already lost all of those to Lord Jordan in past duels. Harmonia bit her lip to quench her smile. She saw Lord Jordan smile at her in return.

His dreadlocks were to the middle of his back now. She noted. She had heard that dreadlocks made the hair coarse but she had never felt them for herself. She wondered if it was true. How would they feel when she ran her fingers through his hair? She mentally cursed and turned away. It didn't matter! She couldn't be with him. Why couldn't her stupid heart understand that?

"If you win, George will _allow_ you to be Quidditch Captain for one week."

Harmonia smirked when George threw Lord Jordan a startled look. Apparently Lord Jordan hadn't consulted the real Captain before announcing his decision. There was no way he would be able to retract his offer. Once a duel was declared all the prizes that were announced were final.

"What say you?" Lord Jordan asked. "I already have your broom, your chocolate frog trading card collection, ten galleons . . . need I go on? Surely you must have something worth my time."

"Lady Harmonia Potter's betrothal contract!"

Harmonia flinched. It wasn't possible. She knew that Weasley didn't love her but her contract . . . he was willing to bet her future on the outcome of a duel that everyone already knew? She looked at Lord Jordan who had the brightest smile on his face she had ever seen. This was it—the whole reason why he nagged and insulted and pushed Weasley. It was the reason why he accepted every duel that Weasley challenged him to, even though Lord Jordan knew he would win.

Lord Jordan took everything that Weasley valued until there was nothing left, so he would be forced to bet her contract. Ron Weasley could be goaded into anything—even giving up the one thing he held over her for the past year.

"I-I didn't mean that!" Weasley cried. "I take it back! I—"

"You can't. Once a duel is declared all bets are binding," Lord Jordan declared with satisfaction.

A golden contract popped into the common room and landed next to her. With shaking fingers she unrolled it and sobbed when she got to the bottom. It was gone. Ron Weasley's name wasn't on the contract. After years of pain and grief it was finally gone. Because of Lord Jordan she was free. When Lord Jordan won—there wasn't a doubt who the victor would be—she would belong to him.

She hugged the contract to her chest. She would be able to hold his hand. She could talk to him and not feel guilty. She would be able to kiss him and hug him. She could run her fingers through his hair and cup his cheek! She could finally be with him!

The duel was over as soon as it began. Lord Jordan took Kali from his pocket and charmed her until she was the size of an Acromantula. The spider was taller than him with fangs as long as his forearm. Lord Jordan smirked as Weasley fainted before she took one step.

Harmonia snorted and giggled as her ex-fiancé passed out cold on the common room floor. She couldn't help it. Weasley lost because he was scared of spiders! Her sides ached from laughing but she couldn't stop. Lord Jordan must have had Kali in his pocket for days, waiting for the right time to rile Weasley up so he would challenge him to another duel. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her laughter dissolved into sobs and hiccups. She was finally free to love who she wanted.

"Are you afraid of spiders, Lady Potter?" Lord Jordan whispered.

Harmonia knew he was asking more than what his simple question entailed. Not only had Lord Jordan repeated the questioned that had set her on an entirely new path during her first year, but he subtly asked if she still loved him. Lord Jordan was comparing himself to a spider. Lord Jordan's dreadlocks looked like spider legs. His broad shoulders and height made him intimidating to others. Lord Jordan was a Gryffindor but he didn't barge into a fight feet first. He planned until he was sure he had a way to win and then barred his fangs.

"No, Lord Jordan, I love them."


	9. Something Hallowed, Something True

**Title:** Something Hallowed, Something True

**Pairing: **Neville Longbottom/Henrietta Potter

* * *

Henrietta gazed at the small package, shocked that she received a gift. The wrapping paper was vibrant and beautiful. The numerous red and gold ribbons curled around the edges, drawing her attention to the elaborate bow. She flicked a ribbon and tried to decide if she wanted to open it. This was her first courtship offer and it was . . . unusual. A pureblood wizard would normally send her a marriage contract. Her father gave her permission to choose her husband. Her father refused to get involved because he wanted her to marry for love. Love was won, not forced. Henrietta was grateful. She didn't want to marry someone because it would bring her family more wealth or honor.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Fay Dunbar asked as she ate more of her breakfast. She nudged the gift closer to her best friend, as if gaining her permission would make Henrietta unwrap it.

Henrietta rolled her eyes and tore a slice of toast into little pieces. She popped them into her mouth as she thought about it. If she opened the gift, then that would mean she was potentially accepting the wizard's offer. It would encourage him, and there had been no note or indication from whoever sent it. The owl was an ordinary school owl, so Henrietta knew he was a student, but that didn't help her narrow it down. Even the wrapping didn't give her any clues.

She drank her milk; she hated the taste of pumpkin juice ever since Sirius hexed it to taste like sludge. And with the Weasley twins and Sirius's son—Caelum—sitting four seats away, she wasn't willing to chance it.

"I don't know," Henrietta admitted. She hadn't had any courtship offers since she came of age five weeks ago and, while it wasn't strange, she had expected to receive one before now. Maybe that was presumptuous of her, but she thought that someone would be interested in marrying her. Now she had an offer and she wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Stop being so wishy-washy and open the stupid package," Fay ordered. "Or I will."

Henrietta snatched it from the table before Fay could touch it. She knew that Fay didn't make idle threats. Fay would open it at the breakfast table and then announce what it was for everyone to hear; Fay had done it in their second year. Henrietta pulled on the ribbons and carefully folded them and set them to the side. She didn't want them soiled by breakfast. The wrapping paper came next.

"Will you hurry up?" Fay leaned closer. "I want to know what it is."

Henrietta laughed at her friend. She was impatient as well. She deliberately opened the box as slowly as she could just to see the frustration on Fay's face. She gasped as she set the lid to the side and looked at the book-shaped locket that lay nestled in a pile of silk. It was gorgeous.

She shuddered when she felt the powerful magic radiating from it. It reminded her of the family book that was in her library at home that had pictures of her ancestors. She opened the locket and smiled when the inside was empty. There weren't pictures, which meant that the giver wanted her to place her own in it. There were multiple pages in the book, so she could place more than two pictures inside. She would be able to include pictures of her children and husband, keeping them close to her heart.

Henrietta read the note underneath the locket. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but he probably used a dicto-quill.

_A wish for our future._

Fay carefully examined the locket after Henrietta passed it to her. Fay was better at sensing magic and she knew that Fay wouldn't damage it. "Wow! That feels old," Fay said as she handed it back.

Henrietta stared at her best friend and glanced at the locket again. "What did you say?"

Fay shrugged at the question. "It feels old. Like heirloom old." Her eyes narrowed on Henrietta. "He must really like you to part with something like that."

Henrietta reverently placed the locket back into the box and spelled it shut so the locket wouldn't fall out. She put it in her bag and finished eating breakfast. She grinned when she heard a few groans and loud curses coming from the male students. Apparently they had been watching her, and waiting to see if she would accept the gift. She could only receive one offer at a time and someone had beaten them. Marriage contracts took weeks, sometimes even months, to draw up and write.

She pondered the words that Fay had said. Something old. Henrietta smiled as she left the Great Hall. Someone had been watching her. He (whomever he was) knew her favorite pre-courtship tradition and was willing to use it, putting everything on the line. A pureblood wizard would give the woman he wanted to marry five gifts. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. The last gift he would present in person—a Sickle for her shoe. Henrietta had fallen in love with the tradition when she was a little girl. Muggles had a variation of the tradition, but it would never hold the same meaning.

If Henrietta rejected a gift, then it would mean she wouldn't officially court him. The thought was daunting and exciting. The pre-courtship was done in secret. She wouldn't be able to research the presents to see where they came from, or to which family they used to belong. She was also forbidden to ask other students if they knew who was sending the packages. Henrietta had to choose by the quality and meaning of each gift.

She hummed as she walked to Transfiguration. Henrietta never thought that someone would realize her love of traditions, but someone did and he made sure that she knew. In three days he would send her the next gift, and she couldn't wait to see what it was.

—

"Aren't you going to wear the locket?" Fay asked when she saw Henrietta put it in her robe pocket and not around her neck.

Henrietta shook her head as she finished brushing her hair. She twisted it up into a messy bun and sighed in relief when it stopped itching her neck. "I can't. I have to wear all of the gifts at once if I accept his offer. I'm not allowed to wear them individually until I give him my answer."

Fay snorted and grabbed her homework from her nightstand. "That's a weird tradition. I'd wear it anyway."

Henrietta rolled her eyes. "I know, but I'm not you."

Fay laughed as they walked to the Great Hall. "I know. You'd make a horrible Dunbar."

"And you'd make a horrible Potter," Henrietta countered.

Fay threw an arm around her friend and shook her head. "No I wouldn't. I'd be fantastic! Admit it!"

"You would," Henrietta agreed after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. They burst into laughter and laughed even harder when people looked their way with confusion and annoyance. Henrietta and Fay were early risers and found it amusing when people acted like ghosts in the morning. Others drifted around the corridors and ran into walls. Colin Creevey was one of those people, which was hilarious since he was always chipper later in the day. It saved her from being followed and asked for autographs, though she didn't have to worry about that since he was too intimidated by Fay to come near her.

"What do you think it will be today?" Fay asked once they got themselves under control.

Henrietta shrugged as she kept her eye on the windows the owls flew through every morning. She absently ate breakfast, not really paying attention to what she was eating. She wasn't very hungry but she knew if she didn't eat now, by lunch she would be irritable and starving. It was a horrible combination.

The screech of owls made her gulp the last of her milk and finish her sausages as quickly as she could. She wiped her hands on the napkin so she wouldn't get the present dirty. As soon as the owl landed in front of her, she relieved it of the burden and fed it a few bites of bacon. The present was flatter and rectangular. She unwrapped it immediately. Henrietta probably should have waited a few minutes so she didn't look too eager, but she wanted to see what it was.

A silver hair comb.

Sunflowers made of green stone in various shades decorated the top. The tines of the comb were longer than her fingers, which meant that she would be able to use it on her hair and it wouldn't fall out. She used to own hair combs with shorter tines, but she hated them. Her mom would cast spells so Henrietta's hair stayed in place, but Henrietta had never bothered to learn them. When she started attending Hogwarts, Henrietta gave them to Fay. Fay's hair was shorter and thicker.

"Maybe he's trying to tell you that you'd look better if you brushed your hair," Fay chimed in.

Henrietta scowled and patted her messy bun. It didn't look that bad. She liked it when her hair was messy. Strands framed her face and sometimes tickled the back of her neck. Her mom said it made her look charming. "Or maybe he's saying that he likes my hair."

Fay smirked when Henrietta glared at her. Fay snagged the note and waved it at her after she read it. "Maybe. Hey, aren't flowers supposed to have special meanings and such?"

"Sunflowers mean devotion. Prehnite represents unconditional love."

"Correct. That's what the note says, anyway." Fay laughed and ruffled Henrietta's hair, grinning when she smacked her hand away. "You're such a dork. Why do you know that?"

"No, I'm not. I just like to read, unlike some," Henrietta defended. "You're just jealous." Henrietta mentally kicked herself when Fay's smile vanished. Why did she bring that up again? A few months ago, Fay's fiancé dumped her for Daphne Greengrass. Fay cried for a week, and Henrietta knew that Fay wasn't completely over him.

"I already have a comb; I don't need another. People might start accusing me of being a peacock," Fay said after a few minutes of silence. "So, who do you think it is?"

Henrietta shook her head. Nope. She wasn't playing this game. She would wait until the final gift. She wanted to know, but she could be patient when it was really important. This person was too important to lose. She placed the comb back in the box and put it in her bag. She would keep it with her, like she did the locket.

"Because Nearly-Headless Nick has been watching you ever since you got your gift—"

Henrietta spewed her drink across the table. The table burst into laughter as she shoved Fay, almost pushing her off the bench. Her suitor was not a ghost!

—

"I know who it is!" Fay whispered as they walked down to breakfast three days later. The last few days, Fay randomly said male names and each one was more ridiculous and impossible than the last. "I looked up the—"

"No. You can't tell me!" Henrietta said, fighting the panic that erupted when she realized that Fay wasn't joking. She didn't mind it too much when she knew that Fay was kidding around and making up names, but Henrietta really wasn't allowed to find out who her suitor was.

Fay pulled her to the side of the corridor and searched her eyes. She frowned when she noticed that Henrietta was breathing fast. "Calm down. Calm—Henrietta." Fay sighed and cast a calming charm. "I wasn't trying to—"

Henrietta forced herself to take deep breaths. She fisted her wand and mentally cursed. Why had she gotten so worked up? She received two gifts and panicked like a love-struck ninny about to lose her one true love. "I know. But you can't tell me. It's—"

"Part of the tradition. Okay. I won't. Let's go to breakfast; you'll have another present waiting for you."

Henrietta counted the beats between her breaths as she walked into the Great Hall. She knew that she had the attention of almost everyone there. They wanted to see what was going to happen next. She knew that some of them wanted her to reject the next gift so they would have the chance to court her, but she knew her suitor wouldn't give her reason to do so. His last two gifts had been thoughtful. He was planning for their future and, if she believed the message with the comb, he loved her.

Her hands trembled when she reached for the new present. Henrietta was nervous. No one had ever shown her this much interest before, and she was excited and terrified. Henrietta was scared to find out his name prematurely because she would miss her chance, and scared to open his gift because she was falling for him. He captured her attention and she knew that this gift, like the other two, would be perfect.

A white monogrammed handkerchief with the initials A. F.

_A promise to never make you cry._

Henrietta felt her heart melt at the words. She felt her fears and hesitation vanish as she reread the note for the second time. She wanted to meet him. She wanted to know his name. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped round her. She wanted to taste his kisses. Every gift screamed his intentions toward her, and she was listening. Her heart thudded in her chest as she thought about the feelings that had budded over the last week. Henrietta was falling in love with him, and she didn't want to stop.

"Very poetic," Fay said.

"Oh, hush you," Henrietta retorted as she stored away the gift.

"Are you going to accept his next gift?" Fay asked.

Henrietta smiled at her best friend and nodded. "Yes. I am."

Henrietta knew that when she accepted his next gift, she could declare her acceptance. She would finally be able to tell him that she was willing to court him. Six more days until their pre-courtship turned into a longer courting period, where they got to know each other more and went on chaperoned dates. But unlike others, they would know each other's feelings.

She almost squealed at the thought. While others were forced to read through a long, dry document that detailed what their marriage would entail, and what was required of them, she received gifts full of magic and emotion. Her suitor knew her very well.

—

Henrietta slammed the lid back on the fourth gift as her face flushed blazing red. She shoved it in her bag when Fay tried to steal it from her and peek. Knickers. Her suitor sent her a pair of royal blue knickers. Her blush burned hotter as she thought about the implication. She probably should have been angry that he sent them while she was in the Great Hall, but she was too embarrassed to think of anything else.

"No. You're not opening it!" Henrietta growled.

"It can't be that—never mind." Fay laughed in her face as Henrietta shook her head. "Apparently, I was wrong." Fay whistled in awe. "He has guts to send something like that."

Henrietta glared at Fay and the rest of the Great Hall when a few students laughed or continued to stare. She wasn't on display, and they had no right to poke their noses into her private business. She grabbed her things and stalked from the room with her head held high. It was embarrassing, but hilarious. Sirius would have been proud if she pulled something like that off.

She almost showed them off to the entire school! If Fay hadn't riled her up that morning, she would have unwrapped the present like normal and allowed Fay to look at it. Fay wouldn't have been able to resist laughing or commenting on a pair of blue knickers. It was bad enough that everyone saw how embarrassed she was. They probably already guessed what was in the box, and most wouldn't be that far off.

Henrietta knew there was a note with the gift, but she couldn't bring herself to read it. Fay caught up to her and shot her glances when she thought Henrietta wasn't looking. She sighed when she knew that Fay wasn't going to let it go. She always had to have the last word.

"So . . . are they lace or silk?"

—

Henrietta laid the last three items on her bed. Today she would be able to declare her intentions and find out his name. She already had something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. The last gift was a Sickle for her shoe. When she entered the Great Hall wearing all of the pervious gifts, he would present himself and place the Sickle in her shoe to complete the ritual. It would also signal the beginning of their official courtship.

Fay styled her hair into a riotous mess of braids and curls, held up by the stunning comb. A few curls framed her face and fell over her shoulder. The prehnite enhanced her green eyes she had inherited from her mother, Lily. Henrietta clasped the locket around her neck, making sure that it was visible. The handkerchief went in the pocket next to her heart. She had already put on the knickers after her shower. She wasn't going to tell Fay, but they were lace. Henrietta glanced at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She was officially accepting someone's marriage offer today. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she thought about her future.

"He loves you," Fay whispered from behind her.

Henrietta clasped her hand and smiled. She wished Fay could truly share her joy. She wished that Fay's ex-fiancé had seen how amazing and sweet she was. Fay deserved to love someone, and to be loved in return. A small piece of her felt guilty for being so happy when her friend was still struggling through the break up, but she knew Fay would lecture her if she ever brought it up. Fay would have many chances in the future to fall in love. It was Henrietta's turn.

"I know." She hugged Fay before they left the tower. Breakfast had already started, and she didn't want her suitor to think she had rejected him. Henrietta never thought it would take an hour to get ready, but she wanted to show how much he meant to her.

Everyone stared at her when she entered the Great Hall that morning. She walked to the Gryffindor table and refused to look around the room. She didn't want to worry or speculate about who was her secret suitor. He would come to her when he was ready. She piled her plate high with food and ate while she waited.

"It's a beautiful morning," Neville Longbottom said as he sat next to her.

Henrietta glanced into his warm brown eyes and smiled. Neville. Alice and Frank were her godparents. They grew up together, but they hadn't interacted much since first year. He spent time with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, while she befriended Fay. Neville was in love with her; the thought made her giddy. She remembered when she told him about her favorite pre-courting rites when she was younger. She hadn't thought anything of it, until now. Henrietta never thought that he would remember what she said and use that to steal her heart.

"A Sickle for your thoughts?" he asked with a teasing grin. He pulled a Sickle out from behind her ear, as she stared at him with surprise.

He used to pull that trick with her all the time! "I thought it was a Knut," she said as she stared at the silver coin in his hand. The last gift. It would bind them together until they were married.

"I think you're worth more than a Knut, don't you?" Neville asked as he knelt on the stone floor. He held up the Sickle for other people to see, and then recited the last past of the ritual, "You accepted my token for moving toward the future and my gift for our new life. You accepted the vow for happiness and my promise of fidelity. Will you, Henrietta Potter, accept the wish of good fortune and prosperity?"

Henrietta forced back the tears as she nodded. Neville said he would never make her cry, and she wouldn't turn him into a liar—even if they were tears of joy. She placed her left foot on his upraised knee. Neville removed her shoe and set the Sickle inside. As soon as her foot touched the Sickle, magic flared between them, blazing and bright, a signal that Magic accepted their courtship and deemed it worthy.

Henrietta pulled him to his feet and captured his lips. She grinned into the kiss when people gasped and hooted. She knew her dad would approve of her choice. She was a Potter and she won a husband: valiant and honorable.


	10. Of Defiance and Determination

**Title: **Of Defiance and Determination

**Pairing: **Remus Lupin/Jamie Potter

* * *

Jamie Potter prowled around the girl's dormitory as she tried to calm herself. Yesterday, _Lupin_ tried to gain more power and favor among Gryffindor by stealing bits of her territory and members of her pack. If Heir Black, their designated intermediary, hadn't informed her of the coup d'état, she would have attacked him regardless of the consequences. No one stole from her, least of all, _Lupin_.

She twirled her wand as she paced in front of the blazing fireplace. The missive that she had fed the hungry flames a few minutes prior was a small pile of ash. It brought a vicious grin to her face even though she knew her mum and dad awaited her reply. The words from her parents enraged her enough that she would willingly attack the next person who was foolish enough to cross her path. But it also made her want to sick up in the bathroom and pretend that she had never seen it. She wasn't _weak_, though, and refused to show someone else her belly.

Jamie was the first female alpha werewolf in the Potter Pack in three generations and she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Her parents raised her with the knowledge that she would take control of the Pack on her eighteenth birthday. She would be finished with her wizard schooling and would be strong enough to defend her position as alpha if there were any challengers. Jamie knew that those not close to her family couldn't understand why she would become alpha instead of Mating with someone from another pack, but that had never been an option—not for her.

"Will you stop growling, you're interrupting my concentration," Lily Evans demanded. "If you don't keep quiet, I'll go study in the common room!"

Jamie sneered. "Don't test me, Evans, or you'll be drinking potions for breakfast in the hospital wing."

Jamie didn't like the Muggle-born witch. She acted like she was an alpha. Lily tested her at every opportunity, demanding to know why Jamie had to be so _difficult_. Jamie made sure that all of the girls in the dorm room understood what it meant to live with an alpha female the first night. None of them demanded a different room and two of the purebloods already knew that it wasn't wise to cross a pureblood werewolf.

"D-did you hear that? She threatened me!" Lily demanded.

"What did you say, _Evans_? I was reading _Witch Weekly_ and you _know_ I can only concentrate on one thing at a time," Ziliah Brown said.

Jamie smirked. For the past seven years Lily voiced her opinions about how vapid and ignorant Ziliah was because she enjoyed fashion and makeup. Apparently, if it didn't involve spectacular grades and studying for hours, it was a useless pastime and should be done away with. Jamie couldn't imagine living like Lily. She would be bored within the first hour.

Jamie's eye twitched when they continued to bicker and nitpick each other. Normally she found it entertaining and would watch as they ripped each other apart. It never got vicious or dissolved into a duel, but it still amused her. Werewolves normally just fought each other; they didn't bother with the verbal sparring first. Why would you waste your breath insulting one another when you could force them to bare their belly and slink off with their tail between their legs?

The thought of Lupin baring his neck and belly to her was a pleasing thought—one that would never happen. He was too proud and self assured to even consider the degrading act, though that hadn't stopped her from trying. Ever since she had met the stupid arrogant pup she had hated him. He was an alpha and the heir of the Lupin Pack. When they were introduced by a stupid pureblood who thought they would get along on the Hogwarts Express she almost gutted him with her wand. He hadn't liked her since.

Alpha's rarely got along and over the years their feud became legendary. The common room was divided in half. He was permitted to have the fireplace because the girls had one in their dorm room. And Jamie took control of the study area. She didn't know if he had one in his room, but frankly, she didn't care. It was hers. Boys were not permitted into the girl's dorm rooms, regardless of invitations, and girls were forbidden from entering the boy's. It kept things semi-uncomplicated and there hadn't been any bloodshed in a week. It was a new record.

The only neutral zone in the entire tower was the entrance and the four feet surrounding it. It would be pointless if they weren't able to enter their territory because of their rival. It also made Professor McGonagall less likely to give them detention or suspended them. It would humiliate their pack if they were suspended and Jamie refused to show that weakness.

Jamie stalked down the stairs and into the common room. Ziliah Brown and Constance Boot flanked her as they had for the past six years. She didn't need the extra protection, but she enjoyed their company so she allowed them to stay. It was amusing that they thought they would be able to protect her. She was stronger and faster than they were. She was an alpha and it was expected. She made sure that she didn't cross the invisible boundary, though she would have if she had been in a better mood. She loved to annoy Lupin at every opportunity, especially after the stunt he tried to pull yesterday.

Her thoughts still centered on that letter and what she would say. Fenrir Greyback wanted to Mate with her. The thought made her want to sick up on the carpet or transform into her wolf form and kill a happy unsuspecting animal. Her parents didn't plan for someone offering for her. They thought that other males would view her as too volatile and undesirable. Most Alpha's wanted to Mate with a beta or non-wolf because their spouse would be easier to control and wouldn't test their decisions. Fenrir was different and that scared her.

Fenrir was the alpha of the Greyback Pack and enjoyed breaking his mates. He thought it was _amusing_ to mate with a strong willed female and then slowly chip away at her until she became less than nothing. Jamie wouldn't accept. To accept his offer would result in her untimely demise much sooner than everyone would expect. However she couldn't outright reject him either. The Greyback Pack bordered the Potter Pack on the right, the Lupin Pack was located behind them, and the Teschner Pack flanked their left side. And though Lupin harassed her at school she knew that the Lupin Pack would never attack hers without a valid reason. Greyback had no such qualms. He loved fighting and death and would gladly declare a feud if he didn't get his way. The only way for her to peaceably get out of the Mating was to declare that she was already Marked—the equivalent of a wizard engagement.

The alpha of the Teschner Pack was female and Jamie would never Mate with someone who wasn't an alpha. Betas were needy and boring and omegas were too weak and subservient. She would never Mate with someone below her.

"You're standing around like you're an omega waiting for an order, it's pathetic. Move."

Jamie snarled at Lupin, drawing her wand. She really wasn't in a good mood. Normally he was more intelligent than this, but if he wanted to fight in the common room she would be more than happy to oblige him. She wanted to cast her wand aside and demand a true battle with fur and teeth and claws. Jamie wanted to wrap her fangs around his neck and squeeze until he conceded her victory. She would almost taste his blood in her mouth. She licked her lips.

"No fighting befor—"

"Shut it, Evans!" she ordered, not looking away from her prey. The anger and fear she that had been circulating through her for the past few hours transformed into bloodlust. She smirked at Lupin when his eyes narrowed. He had heard the underlying wolf that echoed with her words. She was close to transforming—really close.

She bit her tongue and swallowed the copper liquid that flooded her mouth. If she lost control now it would prove that she was weak and unworthy of being an alpha. She wouldn't allow herself to lose control like a newborn pup. It was humiliating and put everyone in the room in danger. If she lost herself in the bloodlust then the chances of her biting someone rose exponentially. And she would never Turn someone.

"Everyone out!" Lupin barked. "Now!"

Jamie forced the wolf back as the common room emptied. She hated that she almost gave in. The letter shook her more than she thought. She purposely walked over to the fireplace and sat in the armchair. She hadn't sat in it in over five years. It was her favorite and it vexed her when Lupin claimed it, though she hadn't been willing to fight him for it. The thought of being in Lupin's territory made her tense and twitchy, as if he would attack her from behind. She knew he wouldn't. He always fought with honor even when their words grew more crass and hurtful. They refused to attack each other's back—it was a sign of cowardice.

"What's wrong? You're acting like a—"

"An alpha?" Jamie interrupted. Lupin knew she hated that degrading term and only used it when he wanted to rile her up. It was almost worse than a _Turned_.

He snorted and took the seat opposite her. He lounged in the chair as if he didn't have a care in the world. Jamie could see how tense he was. He wouldn't hesitate to spring into action if she hexed him or someone came through the porthole. Jamie froze when she realized that her back was to the entrance. When did she start trusting him to watch her back?

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or continue stalling like a guilty pup?"

Jamie _wasn't_ a pup. If she was still a pup she wouldn't even be in this mess! She gazed at her rival for the last six years and wondered what his response would be. Would he laugh at her misfortune or sneer at her reluctance to Mate? She chuckled when she realized that she was stalling. For the first time in years, Lupin was correct about something.

"I received a Mating offer today." If he wanted to know more then he would have to ask. She wasn't going to pull out her heart and place it on a platter—well, maybe a silver platter would be nice.

"Fenrir."

Jamie smirked. He always was fast. Lupin almost knew her better than her parents. She watched his blank face and tried to decipher his emotions. She had gotten better at reading him over the years, but this time she couldn't see anything. He could have been a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest.

"Fenrir is a horrible choice for a Mate." Jamie rolled her eyes despite the seriousness of the conversation. Maybe only she recognized her dire circumstance. "He murders his mates after he's bored and finds a new one."

"I know." She wasn't born yesterday. His infamy wasn't known only to pureblood werewolves and Turned, but also to the wizarding kind as well. Horror stories were told about Fenrir Greyback and his lust for murder. Jamie had seen the results of one of his _purges_ as he liked to call them. He refused to have weak wolves in his pack and would dispose of them. Their bodies were broken and bloody. She shivered. She had never seen that much blood even when she killed her first deer. The face had been unrecognizable and they were forced to bury it without a name or gender.

"I assume you weren't stupid enough to ask him."

Jamie stared at him in shock. Of course, he asked her! Did he really think she would be dumb enough to ask Fenrir Greayback to Mate with her? Did he think that little of her? She shot to her feet and walked away. He was only going to make her angrier if she stayed. What little control she had gained slipped through her fingers. She sneered when he cursed. Apparently he hadn't meant to sound quite that thick.

"Just tell him no," Lupin said as if that solved everything.

Jamie laughed bitterly. Maybe being away from his pack all these years had addled his brain. "I can't. If I refuse then he'll declare a feud. We've never had good relations with the Teschner Pack and they would willingly side with Fenrir. They would wipe us out in days. And if I agree . . . I would be dead in less than two months."

Lupin grabbed her hands and forced her to stop pacing. He held firm when she jerked and twisted to get out of his grip. "Listen to me." He snagged her chin and forced her to look at him. "You're stronger than the others. You'll be ab—"

"I'm barren!" she bellowed. Jamie flinched as soon as the terrible words left her mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth over his still face. Why didn't he say anything? Shouldn't he quip something about her failure? He always had in the past.

She had never told anyone the truth. It was a well kept secret among a few members of her pack. It was the main reason why her parents never held any hope for her Mating. When her suitor found out that she wouldn't be able to bear any pups they wouldn't want her. Packs needed pups—and it was the one thing she would never be able to give.

"A pack of Turned werewolves somehow snuck past our sentries a few weeks before I was supposed to be born. Dad was gone and mum was left in charge of leading the pack. She fought back as best she could but they forced her to change."

Female werewolves had to stay in one form during their pregnancy. Either they remained human for nine months until after the birth or they changed into a wolf and gave birth to a pup. Transforming part way through the pregnancy damaged the baby because their magic viewed it as an intruder. Many pups died or were born with defects before the cause was discovered.

"When she transformed into a wolf . . . the bottom half of my body was crushed. They were able to hold off the attack but the fighting forced her into labor four hours later. The Healers were able to correct _almost _everything. The rest was too badly damaged." Jamie turned away from Lupin's non-reaction.

"He'd kill you when he found out," Lupin whispered. "He murdered his last mate because she gave him a girl instead of a boy!"

"I know!" Jamie yelled. She paced in front of the fireplace and rubbed her aching head. Why had she told Lupin? It gave him plenty of blackmail material to hold over her head for the rest of her life. She should have just kept her mouth shut and found a way out of it herself. She didn't need to rely on _him_. She could do it herself!

"Mate with me."

Jamie's heart stuttered. What? She couldn't have heard him correctly. "No. Unless you somehow developed amnesia in the last five minutes and forgot—we hate each other!"

"So? Mate with me anyway."

"You're insane! I don't love you." Jamie said. The thought of Mating with Lupin was ridiculous! They would fight all of the time. They would call each other names and hex each other until they were blue in the face and then they would start all over again the next day. When they got really angry they would transform and fight as wolves because it always gave them more satisfaction. They would snip and argue about territory and how to lead the pack. And over the years they would grow more bitter and resentful. No. It was a stupid idea.

"I trust you."

Jamie's protest died on her lips. Lupin trusted her. She chuckled, a little hysterically, and leaned against the fireplace for support. The one man that would accept her for who she was—barren womb and all was the person she had been fighting against for the past six years. Rarely was there a kind word spoken between them, or a nice gesture given. He trusted her anyway.

Lupin trusted that she would allow him to lead the pack. He trusted that Jamie would defer to him in important matters, but still challenge him when they were at home. He trusted her with his pack. He would protect her—even though she didn't need it or ask for it. They were rivals and understood each other. Jamie didn't love Remus Lupin, but the sight of him standing before her, defiant and determined, caused a small dent in the wall surrounding her heart.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Romance