HP: Monochrome

The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach when he realised that this conversation wasn't just some flippant joke.

Marriage? To Daphne Greengrass? A Slytherin girl with whom he'd never exchanged a single word during all four of his years at Hogwarts? This man had to be completely barmy if he thought he'd accept something that crazy so suddenly. Plus, he had literally put him on the spot by asking it in front of the very girl he is supposed to be marrying. A girl who had chosen that very moment to take a sip of the drink on the table, probably to appear inconspicuous and disinterested.

Now, contrary to what Hermione had others believe, Harry did have at least a single diplomatic bone in his body. And given the Laws of Hospitality and unspoken guest rules, it was only fair that he responded in a diplomatic manner.

He tried. He really, really did. But he couldn't do it.

"So," Harry began conversationally. "You really are off your rocker, aren't you?"

Daphne's eyes popped, and she spewed out all of the drink, splattering it all over her robes and her table. Her eyes glaring at the sudden indignity, she quickly brandished her wand and cast a scourgify, rendering her robes and the table in the pristine condition they were before the incident.

Daphne lifted her chin, proud and settled gracefully into the couch, as regal as any queen, every line stiff with annoyance. Her blue eyes flickered disconcertedly, and even she still looked every inch of the composed pureblood princess, but the effect had been ruined. And Harry knew that she blamed him for it.

But the most interesting part, in all of this, was Sirius's reaction, or rather, his lack thereof. His godfather had never been one to play by other's rules, but here, ever since the meeting began, Sirius Black had happily delegated the conversation to him, allowing him to set the pace as he desired. Originally Harry had thought that this was because he wanted him to exert his authority as Lord Potter, but now?

Now it felt like Sirius was planning something else.

But what?

"Apologies," said Joshua, his lips twitching slightly. "That was most uncalled for. In my daughter's defence, she did not expect you to be this… direct."

"I'm a Gryffindor," Harry shot back.

Sirius grinned at him.

"That you are," Joshua reluctantly agreed. "But hear me out. This curse will become exponentially strong in two years, and that might have a detrimental effect on your life."

"I think I can deal with this curse in my own way, thanks."

And he could. If the killing curse couldn't do it, he'd wholeheartedly welcome this bloodline curse to try. Besides, he was a Black by name and magic now. That had to count for something.

"Perhaps you speak the truth," Joshua admitted, "but what about the woman you intend to wed? Will she boast of the same resistance as yourself? What of your children? Will they?"

That… brought him to a pause. The woman he intended to wed? He was a bloody fifteen-year-old yet to pass his OWLs. This wedding nonsense was the last thing in his mind.

"A wedding isn't just a union of families, Mr. Potter. It is also the union of two individuals, and their magical traits. For those of us that are blessed with Family Magic, a wedding represents an increased potency of this magic in our future offsprings. And if both man and wife share the same magic…"

"You do not have to teach that particular lesson, Greengrass," said Sirius, "I'm a Black, and we Blacks know all about husband and wife sharing the same magic. It's what led so many Ancient houses to collapse and squib out through inbreeding."

"Agreed, but it does not make it any less true."

Meanwhile, Harry was sure his face had gone red. Was this man— and Sirius, really talking about inbreeding of all things with him and his daughter sitting in the same room with them?

"If it helps, Daphne and you are second cousins, which in pureblood terms, are practically strangers."

Sirius snorted at that.

"What's—" He croaked, "what's that got to do with this?"

Joshua lifted his drink and took another sip. "The curse grows stronger with time. "One Greengrass blood, no matter how skilled, may not be enough to counter it. But two of them, both powerful in their own right, reinforced through marriage, could stand a chance. And if they have an offspring before the curse reaches its zenith in two years…" his gaze drilled into Harry's own. "Now that just might do."

Wow. Not only did the man expect him to marry his daughter— pureblood princess or otherwise— he also wanted him to impregnate her and chuck out babies faster than one could say 'Honeymoon'. Harry thought he was being extremely considerate by not offering to pay for a psychiatrist session.

Harry noticed that Daphne had clenched her lips. Not that he could blame her. In her position, he'd probably have started throwing spells. And really dark and painful ones at that.

"Tell me, Harry," Joshua asked, "Do you find my daughter undesirable?"

"It's not that," He said, doing his best to avoid Daphne's gaze. "You're trying to force something that shouldn't be forced. It's not fair to either side."

"And yet here we are." Joshua's voice was colder than ice, but there was a sliver of helplessness that bled into his tone. "It may not be fair, but it is necessary. As much as you or Daphne deserve to choose your own life partners, it is inconsequential in front of the larger problem at hand."

"That— that's now how it works," Harry shot back. "People aren't just machine parts or game pieces. You can't just pick them up and move them around the board, using and replacing them as you need to."

"And yet the machine must function. The game must be played." His voice was implacable and resolute. "The greater problem cannot be overlooked."

Harry stayed silent.

"What is it, Potter?" Daphne asked. "If there's something you want to say, now's the time."

Even Sirius was looking at him, with a troubled frown on his face. Harry knew that his godfather would yell and rage, but he would never make decisions for him. He might not like it, but he wouldn't say no if Harry agreed to the proposal. At the same time, he'd not object if Harry chose to walk away and forget about Daphne's plight.

And to be honest… There were more than enough reasons why he should have said yes. It'd cure the curse, and it'd leave his future generations untouched.

And yet—

"Father!" Daphne interrupted, much to everyone's surprise. "Perhaps… Potter and I could talk about this in private?"

Her eyes met Harry's, as if daring him to contradict her.

For a moment, Harry almost did exactly that, just to see how she'd react. The old him would have probably stormed out of the Greengrass estate by now. That he hadn't done so already wasn't out of some misguided wish to save this girl.

Rather, it was because of fear. Fear of what could happen. He knew very well that Greengrass's point was moot. The Transmogrifian torture had done jack to him, as had the killing curse. This bloodline curse, no matter how diabolical, would not affect him. That much he was certain. But unlike the others, this curse would affect the woman he ended up marrying. It would affect the children he hoped he would have someday with someone.

An image of a woman with blonde curls began to form in the forefront of his mind, screaming in pain and perishing from the curse as she gave birth, while Harry just helplessly stood by, unable to do anything about it. He knew he'd never be able to forgive himself. It would be his fault.

And yet, a little voice in his mind whispered that he was simply making excuses. That he was a tiny, scared child who just wanted to survive and fulfil whatever he could before Voldemort or the Ministry or his own untimely death caught up with him. That he'd simply been too afraid to say no to a man like Joshua Greengrass, even with his godfather right beside him. That somewhere deep down, he agreed with the words the man had said, despite knowing it was the ideology of a man known as a Dark Lord all across Magical Europe.

Exhaling, Harry met Daphne's eyes.

"Fine. Let's go."

Cinnamon Grove reminded him a lot of the spacious halls of Hogwarts, except that instead of a castle full of shadowed rooms and sunbeams seeping in through glassy windows, this place was open. Outrageously so. Even though he was standing in the heart of the mansion, he felt like he was frolicking in an open lawn as the sounds of birds chirping rang in his ear, warm sunlight kissed his skin, and the grass beneath tickled his toes.

"So umm…" he asked, "where are we going?"

"Somewhere where we can talk without interference."

He took note of her response, as well as the sharp tone with which it was delivered. No doubt she was trying to keep up this mannequin princess facade in front of her father until they were in private. Which meant that until they reached their destination, she'd be forced to maintain it.

Harry had no idea how this would turn out, so he might as well make use of the opportunity that window provided.

"Do you play Quidditch?" He ventured. It seemed like a safe question to start with.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." That and he had seen three goalposts on the courtyard he had crossed.

Daphne nodded, flipping her hair without breaking her stride. "If you really must know, I got in the team last year. Unfortunately, the Headmaster cancelled the Quidditch matches for the tournament."

And wasn't that interesting? Slytherin had been an all-boys team since his first year. But Peregrine Derrick and Graham Urquhart had been sixth years when he had faced them last, which meant they had graduated and—

He gave her a quick once-over. "Chaser?"

She nodded, "What gave it away?"

"Derrick and Urquhart graduated last year, so that leaves a Chaser and a Beater position empty. You look nimble, but not the right build for a beater."

The smile Daphne gave him in response had far too many teeth in it. "Why Potter? Do you think I can't be one?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Harry quickly clarified. "It's just, beaters need a lot of muscle mass. I know Fred and George regularly work out just to stay in shape for Quidditch. And they're also a bit more… playful."

Yeah… playful was the right word. He loved the twins to death, but he'd be the first to admit the two shared a mean streak a mile wide.

"Don't I look playful to you?" Daphne pouted.

"You look like you play rough."

She snorted.

Harry grinned. "Still, a girl on the team? Draco would be devastated. I thought he preferred a boy-band."

"Draco is it? And I'm still Greengrass. Maybe there's a forbidden romance hiding there. You hide it well, but Malfoy doesn't. Potter this, Potter that. Why must you torture your darling Draco so much?"

Harry gagged at the thought, eliciting a peal of laughter from her.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you are a Slytherin, right?"

"Don't I look the part?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's just…" He wondered how to say it in the most un-insulting manner. "I've never met a Slytherin that smiled so much."

Daphne raised her chin defiantly. "You would know better if you ever got your head out of the Weasley coop."

And she didn't mince words. At all.

"So, about Quidditch. Who's the new keeper?"

"Millicent Bulstrode."

Bulstrode. He remembered the large girl from second year. She'd fit the Keeper position all right.

"Seems like she has the Harry Potter Seal of Approval," Daphne snorted.

"Jealous?"

She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams."

Harry laughed. Talking to her felt like a breath of fresh air. She didn't seem to buy into the whole Boy-Who-Lived crap much. Then again, he'd never really talked to any Slytherin save for Malfoy and his cronies.

And Parkinson. Though she was practically a crony too.

"I know for a fact that Alicia's trying out for the Falmouth Falcons, so there might be a spot empty. We'll have to hold tryouts for Keeper and Chaser too. I'm hoping Ginny will fit in. Though, she's had her eye on my position since coming to Hogwarts."

"But she left it alone for her Prince Charming?"

He held back a groan. "Does everyone at Hogwarts know about her crush?"

"Try Wizarding Britain, Potter. Hell, even Filch probably knows by now. Weaselette isn't exactly what you would call subtle."

"Unlike you?"

Daphne beamed.

The two continued chatting with each other as they traversed through the spacious corridor. Inwardly, Harry kept thinking about Sirius's words. Was his godfather really right about Joshua? Could someone who lived in an environment like this seek pleasure in tormenting others?

Careful Harry, he quickly warned himself. Appearance is neither proof of character nor competence.

One only needed to look at Gilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew as proof.

He followed her until they entered through one of the doors into a brightly lit hall with white walls engraved with strange markings that could be runes for all he knew.

"We're here," she said, and turned around. Gone was the smiling princess, and in her place, was a serpent. She strode right up to him until they were only a few inches apart, an unreadable expression on her face. Harry had to suppress the urge to summon his wand as she violated his personal space with a casual indifference.

"We can freely talk here," she said at last, "without any etiquette nonsense."

Harry frowned. His instincts screamed at him to deny and walk out, telling him that nothing good would come out of this and yet—

"Okay."

A thin smile tore through her lips, as Daphne slid her wand out of her robes. Harry tensed slightly as his wand left the holster but stayed within his sleeve. If she so much as twitched her wand in his direction, she'd be silenced, gagged and disarmed before she finished any incantation.

Instead she turned towards the door and cast several silencing and locking charms on the door. If she saw any change in his posture when she drew her wand, she did not acknowledge it. Once she was finished, she focussed her gaze upon Harry again, only this time, it was thoughtful and speculative.

"Did you just bring me all this way to stare at me up close, Greengrass?"

Daphne frowned at his bluntness. She looked like she was considering multiple approaches to play out their impending conversation.

"Just wondering how to approach things without you blowing up."

"You could offer me a calming draught."

Daphne rolled her eyes again. "Fine. I guess I'll just rip the bandage off. Is there a girl in the picture?"

"Excuse me?"

"A girl," she replied bluntly. "You're a guy. And one of your best friends is a girl. But you appear to have friendzoned Granger, so it's probably not her."

"What makes you think there is one?"

Daphne completely ignored his question. "I doubt it's the little Weasley. You did watch Chang like a lovesick puppy last year though. Even you could do better."

"Hang on a sec, just what makes you my matchmaker?"

Daphne arched a delicate eyebrow.

'Look Potter, I know you must really hate my father for putting you in this position. "

Harry remained silent, content with her filing in, knowing very well that her contemplative eyes never left his face.

Daphne looked down. "You might not remember it, but this isn't the first time we've interacted. We met on the Hogwarts Express, actually. You kind of bumped into me, muttering an apology while trying to find your compartment. At that time, I thought you were some nervous muggle born with bent glasses and bright green eyes."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent.

"I saw you again during Yule that year. You'd sit in front of the mirror for hours and stare at it."

Harry did a double take. "The mirror of Erised?"

Daphne arched her brow. "Do you know of any other?" Not waiting for his reply, she continued. "I often wondered what you saw in that mirror. I mean, you were the Boy-Who-Lived. I saw my mother in the mirror, so I assumed you saw yours."

"Do you have… you know, any memories of her?"

She shook her head. "Dad says she died right after naming me."

Harry felt like the biggest heel in the world. "I'm sorry—"

"Save your apologies for when they matter, Potter. You didn't know her. Or me, for that matter."

He flinched at her acerbic comment.

"Before I started Hogwarts, my father told me that my life was entwined with yours. He always believed that you were the Greengrass Vessel. Don't tell him I told you this, but he's been keeping tabs on you your whole life. Even when you lived with your muggle relatives. After I found out who you were, I was told to try to approach you. But the feud between you and Malfoy, and with Professor Snape's irrational dislike for you, I didn't have the guts to do it."

"You could have tried," Harry offered.

"Slytherin, not Gryffindor."

Both of them chuckled at that.

"You could have tried," Harry said softly. "I'd have listened."

"I think it was everyone's perception of you that made things difficult."

Harry snorted. "What perception? I was just some runt with no idea about the wizarding world."

"True, but that's not what everyone else believed. We saw you go through a hatstall, and some of us even held hopes for you to come in Slytherin. I mean, most hatstalls do end up in my House. Instead, you went to Gryffindor, with a Weasley and a muggleborn as friends. The Weasleys don't have a seat on the Wizengamot, but their reputation as the Headmaster's staunchest supporters is well-known."

"And I rejected Malfoy's offer on the Hogwarts Express."

Daphne laughed at the reminder. "You should've seen him. He was practically jumping at the notion of being best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, and then you rebuffed him soundly in front of Crabbe and Goyle. He looked ready for murder after that. Uncle Lucius—"

"Uncle?"

She shrugged. "He visits often. My father's dealings with the Malfoys is well known. And before this entire Sirius Black mess came up, I was going to be married to Draco."

Harry sharply inhaled. It was moments like this that reminded him that despite her affable behaviour, Daphne Greengrass was ultimately an unknown quantity. The cynical part of his mind couldn't help but mistrust her, wondering if empathising and getting him to relax was just another way of lowering his defences.

Or maybe he was just being overly paranoid. But just because you were paranoid, didn't mean there wasn't a wand in the shadows pointed at you.

"—ter? Potter?"

Her words broke him from his reverie. "Um… yes?" he sheepishly offered.

"Did you listen to a word I was saying?"

"You lost me at Malfoy," he admitted. "I still think you could have walked up to me and said something about it. It would've been nice to have someone to call family in the magical world."

Greengrass laughed.

Harry looked at her askance.

"You realise that my father offered you my hand in marriage, don't you? All this talk of family makes me feel more like a sister than a potential fiancé."

"I still haven't said yes, you know."

"You haven't walked away either," came her swift reply.

"So… about Draco. If you were going to marry him, why did you…"

"Stalk you?"

Harry went pink. "I wouldn't have phrased it like that, err…"

"Well, it's the truth. I did stalk you. Not that you ever noticed. You only had eyes for Draco. Maybe you'd have thought of me as competition."

Harry snorted.

"Dad had no way to verify if you were a Vessel. And everyone knew Draco would become the Lord Black. We needed access to the Library to break the curse, and Draco was my only option."

"I thought he was with Parkinson."

Daphne bit her lip. "Well… he still is. Ours was going to be… a marriage of convenience. We'd get access to the Black Library, while Pansy would become Lady Malfoy, and I'd continue with the Greengrass Ladyship. Apart from the obvious duties, I'd rarely need to be with him. In fact, uncle Lucius wanted Astoria for the Black Ladyship, citing it'd be easier if both sisters were married and lived together. Personally, I think he wanted the entire Greengrass line for himself."

Harry looked at her with dawning horror. "And you were okay with that?"

"Well, Dad put his foot against it. Astoria wishes to be an Unspeakable, and out of this thing. Plus, she isn't really a Greengrass by blood, so it wasn't like she'd inherit anything. Dad respected her wishes."

"And you?"

Daphne shrugged. "Marriages between old houses are rarely out of love, Potter. I don't have to like it, but I'd have done it."

"And then this summer happened."

"...Yes," Daphne said, a small smile forming on her face. "Dad was ecstatic. You should've seen him. Our Vault was drained by twenty thousand galleons, and he was dancing like he had just doubled our fortune. That Sirius Black had declared you as his heir was the icing on the cake. In one single move, it changed everything."

"I thought your dad was best buddies with Lucius Malfoy."

Daphne snorted. "In business, there is no such thing as permanent allies or enemies. Only interests. Lucius's interests aligned with ours, and I was going to marry his son Draco. Naturally, they were thick as thieves."

"And now?"

"Well…" she trailed off. "A number of things can happen. If you decide to marry me, my father will demand a restitution of his earlier payment to uncle Lucius, and he's not going to be pleased. If there's any truth about the rumours I've heard, he might use the Dark Lord's name to try to cower him. Especially if the Ministry continues its current approach. Draco will try to get Slytherin House to shun me and make my life a living hell. Or we'll, he'll try. Being ousted from the Black heirship would do a number on him. He's been banking a lot on that one."

"Wait a sec," Harry exploded, "You believe he's back?"

"Obviously," Daphne said drolly. "It's not in your nature to lie about such things."

Harry's heart skittered in his chest. Even his best friends had chosen to believe otherwise, occasionally at moments when he needed their support the most. Ron, Hermione, Gryffindor House— every single one of his so-called family at Hogwarts had failed him in that respect. And yet this… this Slytherin girl, with whom he hadn't even exchanged a word before this, knew him better than them put together.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Despite not exchanging a single word with him over the years.

Harry didn't know whether to be flattered or paranoid about the fact. If she knew him that well, what else did she know?

Relax, Harry urged himself, as his heart began to beat faster. You're not under attack.

But that didn't mean he wasn't in danger.

Answers. Harry told himself. He needed more answers.

"This curse…" he muttered, "what is it like?"

Daphne pursed her lips. "On most days, it's nothing. Occasionally I feel debilitating pain, and even trying to cast a Lumos spell makes me feel like I'm being cruciated. It leaves me drained for the entire day. Pain-relieving potions help, but my body's grown immune to them. The Headmaster knows about this, as does Professor Snape. When this happens, I spend the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing or in my room."

Harry winced. "And… this marriage?" He paused again, wondering how to broach the topic politely. "How do you feel about this?"

"About marrying you?"

"...yes."

"In a word? Disappointed."

Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. Something must've shown on his face, however, as Daphne immediately backpedalled.

"In me, not you. Honestly, I think I've always hated you a bit. I carry the Greengrass name, the duties and responsibilities. Dad raised me in a manner that befitted the Greengrass Charter. I had the blood, had the mindset and trained myself in the arts ever since I could hold a wand. And I had the curse causing me debilitating pain every single day. And yet, I wasn't the Vessel."

Her lips twisted. "You were. You, who didn't even know your ancestry. You who just went ahead and gallivanted with Weasley and Granger and ran around poking your nose in places it didn't belong. I practised everyday and night, the fear of the curse taking me before I could fulfil my role as the Lady giving me sleepless nights. You just did whatever you wanted, and yet, demonstrated the strongest Patronus Wizarding Britain has seen in a few decades. I was the Heir, and yet somehow, you, who never even recognized the Greengrass name, were the Vessel. Yes. I hated you."

Harry swallowed. "And… now?"

"Situations change," she said, "and flexibility is a trait highly favoured in Slytherin House. I might have blamed you, but the truth is you are blameless in this entire thing. You didn't know about your heritage, and for better or worse, you didn't suffer from this curse. And now you, like a textbook hero, are one step away from agreeing to marry a girl you haven't exchanged two words with before this day, all because you think it's the right thing to do."

"I haven't said yes."

"You haven't said no, either," she shrugged.

Harry fidgeted.

"I was going to marry Draco, but it'd be a marriage of convenience. Beyond the obvious duties, it'd be like living with a stranger. If you want, we can have the same. A marriage of convenience. I don't expect you to be some Prince Charming, and you don't have to worry about being shackled with a girl you don't know and don't want to know. That said, Dad might wish to confer the Lordship of Greengrass onto you, as would be your right as… my husband. But if you don't want to deal with it, just authorise me to handle it. You can marry whoever you want, and make her the Lady Potter. I'd request you to still… show up with me at public events from time to time, to keep up appearances if nothing else."

Harry lost all traces of humour at that point.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you in private," she said, "do you still have reservations against marrying me? I'm not sure what else to offer you."

Blue eyes met green.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not interested in compensation, Greengrass. I… have no need of it. I didn't come to this meeting expecting something in return. A father wrote to me, claiming to discuss a maledictus that affected his daughter. And me. And I understand his problem, and the solution. I… I don't have to like it, but sometimes, a choice isn't a choice at all."

He didn't wait for a reply, and spun on his heel, striding towards the door.

"WAIT!"

He froze.

Daphne approached him from behind. "I know you don't wish anything in return, but I'd rather pay you back. My pride as a Greengrass won't accept anything less."

He stayed silent.

"I know you're facing a trial in a week. If my father offers you help, I'd ask you not to reject it. Dad's been on the Wizengamot for quite some time, and he knows his stuff. I know you hate accepting help from others, but this is the Wizengamot. Let him help you. Let me help you. It's the least I can do in exchange for you pitying me."

"I'm not pitying you."

"You've just chosen to marry a girl you didn't even know existed, without, in your own words, any demand for compensation. No matter how you slice it, you pity me, and that's the truth, and my pride cannot accept that. Trust that I'll do everything to make it better for you."

Harry hesitated for a moment. "Fine. But if we're really doing this, there's something about me you might want to know. If you still want to go ahead with this entire marriage, I won't object."

"Don't bother, Potter," she beamed. "I told you. Dad knows everything that's worth knowing about you."

"Well, it's quite recent and… a bit weird. Honestly, I have trouble believing it myself."

Daphne began to laugh softly. "I bet it isn't weirder to believe than that you're a Greengrass Vessel, that I've been stalking you since your first year, and my father asked you to marry me on the spot."

Harry met her eyes evenly. "Fine. When I took the ancestry test, it turned out that I was a Vessel, and I'm not talking of the Greengrass line. As of right now, my name is Harry James Peverell, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell."

There was dead silence as the girl processed his statement.

"Well," Daphne said at last, surprised. "Bugger."