Amour Et Officium Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

Greengrass Manor:

“You wanted to see me, father?” Daphne asked, slipping into her father’s study. She moved to stand in front of his desk, waiting for his permission to take a seat. It did not come, which didn’t surprise Daphne in the slightest.

Ever since their mother’s death, her father had become a shadow of his former self. Her mother had humanized Cyrus Greengrass, providing the moral compass and empathy the man so desperately needed. He had always been distant and slightly cold, but now, she had to make an appointment if she wanted to see him. He never came to see either her or her sister, leaving both to their own designs in a separate wing of the manor. If he ever wanted to talk, they were summoned, like they were his clients, not his children.

Daphne had buried one parent that day, and lost both. She had no one in the world except her sister and her best friend.

No, I have someone, she reminded herself, crumpling the piece of parchment in her hand.

“Are you determined to marry Harry Potter?” Cyrus asked crisply, getting straight to the point.

“I grew up believing I was to marry him, papa. He has been courting me for the past two years. Tori is up in our bedroom right now, going through a catalog of wedding dresses,” Daphne said, trying to get her point across without appearing sentimental. Emotions were a sign of weakness, both in Slytherin and in the Greengrass mansion. “But you are having second thoughts?”

“It commits us firmly to one side.”

“The side that is ascendant.” Love. Duty. Honor. Those were not terms her father understood. She had to show him the value of her marriage to Harry if she wanted his blessing.

“For now.”

For now?

“Do you know something?” Daphne asked, frowning.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Her father’s expression turned stony. “I will be writing a letter to Lord Black, saying that it is your wish that the wedding be postponed until after you both finish Hogwarts. If you are questioned by anyone, you are to say the same. This will give us time to reassess our position.”

“As you wish, father.” She held his gaze, watching as his eyebrows flew up in surprise at the ease with which she had obeyed him. “Is there an issue, papa?”

“I had thought you would protest.”

“I think it hardly makes a difference who my husband is. After all, all men are the same, aren’t they?” Daphne asked coldly.

“Quite so,” her father replied, returning his attention to the papers on his desk. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, papa.” Daphne slipped out of his office, stomping up to the large room she shared with her sister.

“What did he want?” Astoria asked as Daphne flung the door open, running to her closet. “Oh. It’s that bad,” she murmured, looking at the expression of utter fury on her sister’s face.

“Maybe this dress will cheer you up?” Astoria held up the magazine she was holding, pointing to the gorgeous lace-trimmed wedding dress.

“Save it for your wedding, Tori. Harry will never see me in a wedding dress,” Daphne muttered, wrapping the scarf around her neck. She grabbed her purse, slinging it on her arm.

“Where are you going?” Astoria asked, watching her sister march back out of the room.

“To take control of my destiny.”

                                                            ---

The Leaky Cauldron:

“Do I really have to meet him?” Harry whispered, looking across the empty pub to the shut door that led to the private lounge of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Well, considering you turned your aunt into a hot air balloon, it might be a good idea to have the Minister of Magic in your corner, Harry,” Sirius said wryly. He found the whole incident amusing. Hilarious, even. Amelia, not to mention Vernon and Petunia Dursley did not share his opinion.

“It was an accident,” Harry hissed. “I didn’t even use my wand. No charms, no spells. She kept on insulting my parents and Ginny even after I warned her repeatedly not to, and I snapped, okay?”

“I know. That’s the only reason Amelia didn’t throw the book at you for violating just about every statute we have about performing magic in front of and on Muggles. But there is talk about giving you some sort of academic punishment when the new term starts. If you don’t want to spend every day of your third year in Hogwarts in detention scrubbing pots under the tender care of our good friend Snivellus, I suggest you go in that room and schmooze up to Fudge.”

“Madame Bones is only mad because I ruined your date,” Harry mumbled, trying his best not to sound grumpy. The woman had called his mother a tart, his father a good-for-nothing braggart, and his girlfriend a cheap whore. Yet he was the one being punished? “They deflated her within minutes. She doesn’t even remember the incident.” Harry took a deep breath. “What does he want from me? He isn’t here because I blew Marge up, is he?”

“I doubt he’s bothered with something so trifling. No, I suspect he’s here because you turn eighteen tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I bet he traveled all this way just to wish me an early Happy Birthday,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Oh, I bet he’ll act like that’s why he’s here. But the real reason is James and Lily’s will. By law, it is to be read on your eighteenth birthday, and I bet he knows something about it we don’t.”

Harry looked at Sirius strangely. “I thought the will was lodged in Gringotts. I didn’t think the Goblins would breach a client’s privacy, even for the Minister of Magic.”

“Oh, they won’t. In fact, they’d have taken a particular delight in telling him to go fuck himself if he’d dared to make that request. But a copy of every will has to be lodged in the Ministry by law, and the record keepers there aren’t quite as obstinate as our goblin friends, especially when it’s the Minister of Magic making a request personally.”

“So he knows the contents of my parents’ will before I do?” Harry asked, trying to control his anger. No part of his life was his own. Society had decided he had no right to privacy, all because he had done something he had no memory of.

“Fudge has never hesitated from abusing the privilege and power of his office,” Sirius replied. He paused as Tom doddered over with their orders, giving them toothy smiles as he placed the glass of firewhiskey in front of Sirius before pushing the mug of butterbeer in Harry’s direction. “Whatever you do, don’t lose your temper,” Sirius murmured, watching Tom walk away. “He’s a politician. He saw an opportunity. He took it. It’s all a game, not something personal. That’s what you keep telling yourself. ”

“I won’t,” Harry promised, taking a deep breath. His life didn’t need the added complication of having the Minister of Magic as an enemy. “What’s in their will that’s so interesting to him?”

“Well, it can’t be the money, even though the Potter fortune is enormous. Fudge has Malfoy and his cronies to line his pockets. No, it has to be something that’s going to cause a seismic shift in power at the Ministry, and he wants you on his side before it happens.” Sirius paused, giving Harry a wry smile. “If I had to guess, it’s a betrothal.”

“Normal English, please?”

“A marriage agreement. You know, like the one with Daphne? One that will shake up the balance of power in Wizengamot.”

Harry looked at Sirius, utterly confused. “There’s just one small problem with that Padfoot.”

“Yeah. Your parents should have told me who it is. If it’s Bertha Jorkin’s daughter, I’m going to tear my hair out. I cannot stand that woman.”

“The identity of the woman isn’t the problem,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Does he take anything seriously? “I already have a marriage agreement. What do I tell Daphne after two years of courting? Sorry, I just found out I have this new mate, too bad, hope you find someone nice? Believe it or not, I actually like her.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve read some of your letters to her. Cheesy, but birds like that sort of thing.”

“You’ve been reading my letters?!”

“Only the ones you toss in the bin. And I haven’t been reading them. Kreacher reads them out loud while sorting through the waste to decide what he wants to keep,” Sirius said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“The ones I toss are first drafts,” Harry said hotly. His cheeks were red, and he was just about ready to die of embarrassment.

“Trust me, kiddo. I’m not judging. Your father, in his day, was much worse,” Sirius said with a chuckle.

“What do I tell Daphne?” Harry asked, trying to deflect the topic far, far away from his love letters.

“Nothing. She’s still going to marry the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. However, someone will also need to marry the heir to the Noble and Not-So Ancient House of Potter,” Sirius pointed out. “Which is where the potential marriage agreement drawn up by your parents comes in.”

“Oh. OH.” Harry slumped back in his chair as he finally understood what Sirius was trying to say.

“Nobody said the joining of Great Houses wouldn’t be messy,” Sirius said, squeezing Harry’s arm sympathetically. “If I was a betting man, I’d bet that Fudge is shitting his pants at the idea of the Black, Potter, Greengrass, and this unknown but probably powerful family coalescing into one faction. He wants you on his side.”

“You have no idea who it is?”

“Zero.”

“The Minister will see you now,” Tom said, shuffling back towards their table.

Harry nodded. He pushed his chair away from the table, slowly getting to his feet. “Do you think he will tell me who it is?”

“For all his failings, Cornelius Fudge is one hell of a politician, Harry. He’s not going to give up any information he doesn’t have to, so no, I doubt it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “This is all giving me a massive headache.”

“Welcome to politics, kid.”

Harry slipped into the private parlor, shutting the door before turning to face the man lounging in the large armchair arranged next to the fire. He walked towards the Minister of Magic, trying his best not to react to the vivid green suit he was wearing.

If he thinks this is normal attire in the Muggle world…

“Harry Potter,” Cornelius Fudge said with an effusive smile, getting up and grasping one of Harry’s hands. After a handshake that felt more like Fudge was trying to crush every bone in his hand, he sat back down, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. “Sit down, Harry.”

Harry complied, studying the jovial man with wary eyes. Everything about him exuded happiness and warmth, but he followed his lessons and looked into his eyes. His eyes were guarded, wary, studying Harry like he was a dangerous animal.

‘A man can fake a lot of things, but his eyes always tell the truth. There’s a reason they’re called a window to our soul,’ Sirius had taught him.

Cornelius Fudge’s eyes told him he thought Harry was dangerous.

“You must have heard of me. I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.”

“Of course. My godfather talks about you often.”

He had also come across the man once before, in Hagrid’s hut. But since he had been wearing his Invisibility Cloak and breaking half a dozen school rules at the time, he kept that fact to himself.

“Nothing but good things, I hope?” Fudge asked with a chuckle.

“He thinks you’re great,” Harry lied.

“Good, good.” Fudge leaned back in his chair as Tom reappeared, carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, and crumpets. He placed the tray on the coffee table between Fudge and Harry before leaving the parlor once more. Fudge pulled out his wand from inside his bowler hat, shutting the door to the room with a lazy flick.

“Now, Harry, you’ll be pleased to know that the unfortunate snafu with your aunt has been dealt with. As you are well aware, two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad have punctured your aunt and modified her memory to make sure she does not remember the… incident,” Fudge said, pouring the tea out into the cups. He picked one up himself along with a crumpet, before pushing the tray towards Harry. “Eat, Harry, you must be tired! What with having to spend the entire day being questioned by Aurors. I do apologize for that, dear boy, but you see, they were only doing their job.”

Harry studied the Minister from the top of his cup, trying not to grin as he finally connected the dots between what Sirius had told him and what Fudge was saying. “I’m not angry with them. As you said, they were just doing their job. Nor am I upset with the Ministry or with you personally, Minister. I think you’re all doing an amazing job.”

“Well,” Fudge grinned, the tension in his eyes melting away. “I do like to run a tight ship. You must remember, young man, competence and responsibility start at the very top!”

“I think you’re splendid at what you do, Minister.” He wasn’t lying, not really. Cornelius Fudge was a master at bribery, corruption, and keeping his position safe.

“Thank you, thank you,” Fudge said effusively.

“About the matter of my punishment,” Harry said, trying to sound contrite. He had the Minister in a good mood and it was best to strike when the iron was hot. He had no desire to spend all year in detention with his detestable Potions teacher.

“Ah.” Fudge waved him away. “I’ve read the report and talked to Amelia. There’ll be no punishment. It’s a first-time offense, and things like this happen! Especially when the woman was saying such hurtful things about your parents… They’re National Heroes! If anything, we should be punishing her!”

“I think what I accidentally did to her is punishment enough, Minister.”

“Of course, of course. You must be so very stressed, with everything that is going on. Big day tomorrow, after all.”

“I think we’re just going to have a small party, Minister. Family and friends,” Harry said, hoping the man would get the clue and not invite himself to the party.

“Good! That’s the best way to celebrate.”

Wow. He must really want me on his side. I wonder what all I can get him to agree to.

“I’ll unfortunately be in France for a summit, so I’ll miss it,” Fudge said, slowly getting up. “Which is why I said to myself, old boy, you need to go and wish him tonight!”

Harry reluctantly extended his arm for another crushing handshake.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you, Minister.”

“Well, I’ll be off. Lots to do. Do give my best to Cyrus and Amelia. And Harry?” Fudge suddenly turned serious. “Be careful this year. I know you have a habit of… wandering the school grounds and the forest. It would be best if you do not give in to that particular temptation this year.”

“Why?” Harry asked, unable to help himself.

“Need to keep someone as important as you safe, don’t we?” Fudge said, turning to walk out of the room.

Fudge grabbed his pinstriped cloak on his way out of the parlor. He doffed his hat to Sirius as he walked past the man, receiving a polite nod in return.

Harry slowly walked back to Sirius, dazed and confused by the entire encounter.

“What’d he want?”

“I have no clue,” Harry murmured, slumping down in his chair.

“And that’s why he’s the Minister of Magic and you’re still reading Intro to Politics. I bet he got everything he wanted from that conversation. Tell me everything he said.”

“Well, he told me the Aunt Marge case is closed. I won’t be punished.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“Guess he really wants you on his good side.”

“That’s what I figured, too. The rest was just random talk. He wished me a Happy Birthday, told me to stay away from the Forbidden Forest, and asked me to give my best to Cyrus and Amelia at the party tomorrow.”

“So he knows about the Greengrass contract.”

“It’s not like we were keeping things hidden. Malfoy complains about it once a week. If he knows, his father knows. And if his father knows…”

“Fudge knows,” Sirius completed. “It’s still interesting that he’s keeping such close tabs on you. What is more curious to me is him mentioning Amelia in the same breath as Cyrus,” Sirius murmured, deep in thought.

“Probably because you’re dating her and she’ll be there at the party?”

“I doubt Fudge is keeping tabs on who I’m dating, Harry.”

“He is keeping tabs on who I’m seeing. Not inconceivable that he’s doing the same for my godfather?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well, you can try to uncover his nefarious plan yourself. I’m off to bed,” Harry said, getting up.

“So early? It’s not even time for dinner.”

“I didn’t get any sleep last night. No rest all day today, either. Now that the Weasleys are back from Egypt and Gin’s with them, I thought I’d take a night to myself. Get some rest.”

“Alright. You’re in Room Nine. I’m in Ten. Yell if you need me,” Sirius said, pushing the heavy gold key across the table to Harry.

“Will do.” Harry grabbed the key and got up, searching for the small bag he had packed for his trip to the Dursleys.

“Tom took the bag up to your room. There’s a bell in your room. Ring it, and Tom will bring something to eat up to your room if you want.”

“You know a lot about the Leaky Cauldron considering we’ve never stayed here before.”

“The Leaky Cauldron was here long before you were born,” Sirius murmured, accepting the copy of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet from Tom. He tapped his glass, turning to the toothless bartender, “Refill, please, Tom.”

“You know, sometimes I forget that you’re ancient.”

“And yet, between the two of us, only one is getting married in six months time. And it’s not me, kid,” Sirius retorted with a smile, unfolding the paper. His smile vanished within seconds, his complexion turning the color of paper.

“Sirius?” Harry abandoned his plans to go to bed, returning to his place in the chair next to his godfathers. “Are you alright?”

“I think I know why the Minister was here to see you,” Sirius said quietly, although the undercurrent of rage in his voice was impossible to miss. “And especially why he made that inane request about not wandering off to the Forbidden Forest.”

“Why?”

Sirius wordlessly shoved the paper in his direction.

‘Remus Lupin escapes from Azkaban. Authorities baffled by escape. Minister says situation is under control.’

Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew Azkaban only by reputation. The island prison was rumored to be the most secure (and worst) magical prison in all of Europe. Escape from it was… thought to be impossible.

And yet, Remus Lupin escaped. Why is that name familiar?

“Why do I feel like I’ve heard this name before?” He murmured, his eyes scanning the article. He studied the picture of the man, hoping it would serve to jog his memory. Nothing.

It took a minute, but he finally realized where he knew the name from. “My mum’s first diary. The one I’m reading. He’s in it. He’s mentioned by name, Sirius.” Harry turned to his godfather, a feeling of dread slowly rising in his chest. “Why is he in my mother’s diary, Sirius?”

“Because,” Sirius croaked, the expression on his face a mixture of indescribable sadness and utter fury. “He was our best friend. Mine. Your father’s. Your mother… Merlin, she loved him like a brother.”

“Why was he in Azkaban?”

“Because he was the one who betrayed your parents, Harry.”

Notes:

Ooh la la. I do like to end things on a cliff hanger.