Chapter 2
Daphne stared at the same point on the wall. The way the light reflected off the gold picture frame caught her attention enough to keep herself awake but not enough to be present in the moment.
The seamstress tutted, “Henrietta, this just isn’t right, the hip measurement is inches over what you sent, and don’t get me started on those breasts, I’ll have to re-start the whole gown,”
Her mother hummed sympathetically, “I am truly sorry, I’m certain I only took those measurements a month ago, whatever I do, she just won’t stop, I’m sure she does it in hiding,”
Eat.
She meant eat.
Daphne barely registered the embarrassment. Her mother was petite, and prided herself on it, yet she married a tall, broad man and despised the children who gained his genes. Daphne recalled begging to random gods that she’d wake up without her hips, or her large breasts, horrified at her mother’s reaction to her already tall child having a ‘common’ woman’s body.
And gosh how it was just small mindedness, racism, and generations of insecurity but Henrietta Greengrass was the culmination and she made it Daphne’s problem every day. More so than Astoria who had always been a little weedy, likely from malnutrition.
She was stuck with another pin, and barely flinched.
All of this would’ve been ignored had the seamstress followed the measurements sent to her directly from Daphne, not the manufactured ones from her mother.
It went on for another couple of hours, jabs from the pins, her mother, and their long-serving seamstress.
Daphne began to sway with exhaustion after spending so long standing to attention.
More poking, prodding.
Her vision began to blur, and her blood pressure skyrocketed. She flinched hard, as though she was coming into her body.
The seamstress scolded her, “stay still,”
Daphne felt panic rising, her limbs shook with tension and the feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed her, “I’d like to take a break,” she rushed out, before she could stop herself.
Her hands clenched at her sides, as she attempted to steady her own blood flow.
She caught sight of her mother’s pursed lips from her seat across the room but ignored her, pleading with the seamstress.
“I am beginning to feel lightheaded, and I don’t wish to ruin all of your hard work by doing something as inelegant as fainting,” Daphne nearly begged.
The older woman looked up at Daphne from where she was pinning the sage green fabric at her knees and nodded, “let me get you out of it without disrupting the pins, I can work with this,”
Tears welled in Daphne’s eyes involuntarily and she blinked them away before looking down at her, “thank you, for your work too, I do apologise for the miscommunication with my measurements,”
Her mother looked outraged, but Daphne was too exhausted to care. Once again, her biases and her poor treatment of her daughters inconvenienced the people around her. The seamstress had worked on a dozen dresses for Daphne, surely, she didn’t think she’d sprouted tits three cup sizes bigger in a month.
Daphne was out of there twenty minutes later, deciding dealing with her mother’s anger was worth it. Especially after she had managed to swig an emergency nutritional potion in the changing room.
There was at least one stashed in every one of her coats and handbags.
“I truly cannot believe what has gotten into you, it’s so embarrassing. I don’t know what I did to deserve such insolence from someone I brought into this world,” her mother ranted.
Daphne kept her face neutral as they walked back along Diagon Alley, towards the Leaky Cauldron from where they could floo home.
“And your insistence to maintain that hideous physique, I don’t know whether I’m relieved at your disorder, I would be mortified if so many eligible bachelors turned down those contracts because of your appearance,”
The suggestion was amusing. Hilarious even.
Daphne Greengrass was beautiful.
It was just a fact, no exaggerating or pretentiousness.
It was something she’d always been told.
She was a beautiful baby, then a charming toddler and a cute child, never really going through an awkward teenage phase before she’d been gorgeous and stunning.
No man ever had offered a negative comment on her body, she was sure no man ever would. Save perhaps the healer she’d visited in secret who’d informed her she was eating a diet suitable for pre-pubescent and could render herself barren.
But besides that, especially since she’d sneakily been making sure to get her daily nutrition, she’d always been complimented.
Her mother hated that too.
Her appearance would’ve been her mother’s greatest accomplishment if they could’ve used it for their own gain. Surely, she’d have produced a pretty penny at the market.
Blaise had been willing to pay it.
Her father might have even taken the blood money for the alliance.
But Daphne was sure it pained her parents deeply to turn away suitors because of her ‘preferences’.
Lord William Greengrass was a lot of things; absent father, dreadful husband. But a poor businessman he was not. It wasn’t worth the risk for him to distribute damaged goods, especially when he could play ‘progressive’ head of house, allowing his female heir to ‘choose’ her own match.
Daphne could see the Leaky Cauldron ahead, she latched onto the image like a lifeline, her mother still barking insults from beside her.
She stared at the weathered building, wondering if she’d ever be present in her own life, it’d only worsen after Astoria’s marriage, soon the couple would be having a child and the inequality between their situations would tip further in Astoria’s direction.
Daphne had never and would never get a break.
A grief unlike any other overwhelmed her, nearly causing her to stumble.
“I hope she doesn’t mention it to my friends, how awful to have a daughter who imagines herself too important to sit through a simple dress fitting,”
Daphne began to panic again, breathing shallow and her hands grew clammy.
“Gosh, don’t you look dreadful,” someone broke her out of her spiral.
They’d walked halfway down Diagon Alley with her barely being cognisant.
Daphne stumbled to a stop.
Her mother chuckled warmly at the insult, “well, you look lovely, Pansy, darling, is that coat one of yours?” she asked chirpily, no sign of her previous tirade.
Daphne’s panic was immediately suppressed by a wave of fury as she studied her peer coolly.
Pansy Parkinson might be wearing a lovely oxblood coloured coat, but it hardly disguised her lacking traits. Notable ones, such as empathy, and kindness. Her previously blunt, black bob was now styled choppier and French with a messy fringe. Her features seemed less of a mismatch than her teenage years, sharp hazel eyes, a small, upturned nose, and plush lips.
Shame about her personality though.
Daphne raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t aware you were in town,”
Pansy sneered, the expression marring her previously pretty face, “I won’t be staying long for fear I might catch something from you, are you dying?”
Daphne rolled her eyes, “unfortunately not presently, I’ll live at least past the wedding,”
Though she didn’t feel much like she was living her life, merely existing in it.
Pansy glanced up at her mother, then back to Daphne, “I had my fitting yesterday, it’s all very exciting,” she spoke with a tone that suggested otherwise but her mother didn’t care to notice.
“So exciting, isn’t it, Astoria is working so hard, there’s been a few bumps along the way, I’d help if Daphne wasn’t spending so much time with her father or storing for the winter,” her mother joked, laughing to herself.
Pansy blinked and studied down Daphne’s figure with a furrow in her brow, “well,” she shrugged, pausing for longer than was polite, “I’m sure you can put her in the back of the photographs,”
Daphne’s stomach dropped, not sure why in the silence she’d been hopeful for a defense from the bitchiest woman she knew.
Henrietta chuckled, “oh you’re a delight, we do need to get back, but we’ll see you at the meeting on Saturday?”
Pansy grinned, “yes of course, I’m ever so excited,”
Daphne produced an expression that nearly matched their enthusiasm.
“See you then, do tell your mother I said hello, and I’m looking forward to catching up,” her own mother instructed as she leaned forward to hug Pansy, giving her a kiss on either cheek.
“I will,” Pansy smiled politely at her mother.
That smile dropped off her face as she and Daphne reached for each other to do the same customary goodbye and her mother intercepted to push Daphne backwards.
Hard.
Daphne flushed in embarrassment as she caught herself from stumbling, avoiding eye contact with Pansy, whose eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.
“Like you said darling,” her mother explained, unperturbed, “wouldn’t watch to catch anything,”
Pansy confusion seemed to deepen, as did Daphne’s mortification.
As though Pansy could catch Daphne’s ‘preferences’, or that Pansy wasn’t inflicted herself.
Of course, her mother didn’t think the endless streams of models were anything but her ‘gal pals’ as the media suggested. Daphne wished she herself lived with such perpetual naivety.
Daphne exchanged a final awkward glance with Pansy, once again resenting herself and her situation. How embarrassing for her to look out to a woman she despised for a modicum of support.
Her mother nearly dragged her to the floo. Hurrying her through and abandoning her in the entryway of Greengrass Abbey. Daphne was relieved for the briefest moment before she saw her mother scurrying towards her father’s office.
Expecting imminent discipline and resigned to her fate, she walked to the chaise lounge under the large stained-glass window and sat down with a deep sigh. Waiting.
The room had previously been the nave of the once working Abbey. Its vaulted ceiling had always amazed Daphne. She’d sat on the same chaise numerous times throughout her life, waiting to be disciplined, always imagining how medieval muggles had produced such a marvel.
Teachings of magical supremacy had always been regarded with questions under such a ceiling.
It was a direct contradiction.
How muggles could produce Architectural masterpieces such as the Greengrass’s Abbey and the Nott’s castle. Both of which had been obtained within a century of each other.
Daphne had always felt like she’d been set up to fail in that regard.
Another failure.
Her mother left the office fifteen minutes later, not sparing her a glance.
Another fifteen minutes later her father emerged.
With the same disposition as a tired, owlish school teacher, he gave her an unimpressed look and nodded towards his office.
Daphne took her place in the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of his desk.
He never cared to change it, despite his wealth, and the hours she spent sat painfully assisting him.
He sighed deeply, deeming it late enough in the day to pour himself a hefty glass of whiskey.
Daphne folded her hands in her lap and waited.
“Daphne, I don’t know what to say, how long must I keep maintaining the peace between you and your mother?”
Rhetorical question.
“Would Lord Rosier re-consider his stance on the marriage?”
Also rhetorical?
“Daphne, I asked you a question,” he scolded as he sat down with a deep sigh in his leather armchair.
“Father, I don’t know what to tell you, most men don’t want to truly marry a lesbian,” she explained softly.
That was if they cared for their wife’s desires.
“Daphne,” he scolded again, “enough with this, your sister has done her duty, she’s happy,”
Daphne was at her limit, “Astoria is in love with Draco, father,” she reiterated tiredly, “she’s attracted to him,” she added quietly.
“If only you’d look,” he chastised, looking up to the heavens.
Daphne welled up involuntarily, “if I was capable, I would’ve married Blaise in a heartbeat and you know that, as does everyone in our circles, I couldn’t do it father, not to him and not to myself, that’s not my fault,” she blurted passionately.
How dare he accuse her of being difficult or contrary when she’d agonised over rejecting a life with her best friend.
He must take her for a fool believing she would subject herself to the current reality if she’d had any other choice.
Her father sighed deeply, “what do you expect me to do with you? You won’t marry, you torment your mother, and you’ve burned any bridges with the gentlemen in our circles,”
Daphne’s bottom lip wobbled.
“My father would’ve disowned you,” her father spoke gravelly, “I do not wish to do that, you’re my heir and Astoria’s duty is to her husband,”
She looked down at her hands in her lap, wishing the tears not to fall.
“Your mother wishes for me to discipline you for today,”
Daphne bit the inside of her cheek.
“What happened?”
Daphne’s head shot up, not expecting to be able to offer her side.
Her father wasn’t violent, his usual punishments were political in nature, devoting time to helping an associate, attending an event on his behalf. He viewed their time as his. She’d been resigned to foregoing her own freedom by the time she’d turned thirteen and spent the summer nannying his associate’s children in Normandy.
Daphne cleared her throat, “all day?”
Her father scowled, “at the dressmakers, your behaviour was supposedly inacceptable,”
Daphne blinked and dipped her head, “I’d stood for four hours, and began to feel dizzy, so I asked for a break,” she recalled.
He rolled his eyes, “that’s it?”
“There was a miscommunication with my measurements and the seamstress had to start from the beginning,”
He frowned, “explain,”
Daphne swallowed harshly, “the measurements mother provided were incorrect and the original dress wasn’t able to be adapted,”
Her father sipped his whiskey and leaned back in the chair, “was that on purpose?”
Daphne glanced to the side, “I don’t wish to speculate,”
“Daphne,”
“Yes, I haven’t been that small since I started puberty,” she blurted, flushing red.
Her father’s expression didn’t change, his blue eyes cataloguing her neutrally. Eventually, he reached up to scratch his grey speckled beard and put his glass down, “I never thought I would spend my time quashing disputes about dresses between my wife and my heir, especially when my estate hasn’t yet recovered from the war,”
Daphne dipped her head.
“That being said; I’d be foolish not to notice your mother’s incessant comments about you, which are obviously unproductive since you clearly won’t marry,” he spoke wearily, taking another sip of his whiskey.
She picked at her cuticles whilst he gathered his thoughts.
“The priority is getting through this wedding, after that I will reconsider. You’re still capable of giving me an heir, even if you’re insistent on doing it the hard way,” he thought out loud, “finding a husband as disinterested in you, as you are in him is proving tricky, I approached Lord Rosier as I heard rumours of his interest in men,”
“He’s bisexual,” Daphne murmured.
Her father waved his hand dismissively, “perhaps I timed the Selwyn deal poorly, yet his sons aren’t interested either,”
Daphne cleared her throat, “I’ll be interacting with a lot of people during the wedding events, perhaps I can look myself, they might be more comfortable disclosing that information to me,”
How miserable that she needed permission to search for her own husband.
He shook his head and took another long drink, “you need to focus on your sister, you wouldn’t imagine how often things go wrong at these events, she needs your support,”
She nodded submissively.
“After that, I don’t believe tensions will ease here, I think it best if you move to another property but continue to assist with our accounts, your mother may relax without you here all of the time. I will be writing up an agreement with our lawyers, you will still do your duty,”
Daphne stared at him, “you want me to move out?”
Her father gave her a withering look, “I don’t care where you are, so long as you deliver me an heir, Daphne,”
A boy. He’d always wanted a boy.
She nodded profusely, “of course, thank you for your flexibility on this father, I do appreciate how much tolerance you’ve needed to give me, I will give you an heir,”
Her own house.
Something as foreign as hope sprouted in her chest.
“I need to know that I can trust you with the leverage, ensure you will act properly, as befitting our house,” he told her firmly.
Daphne nodded again, “I’ll prove that to you,”
He leaned back in his chair to observe her, and nodded eventually, “you will, off you go,”
Daphne dipped her head respectfully and left his office quickly, taking the longest route back to her bedroom in the hopes she would avoid her mother.
The diversion worked, Daphne warded the door behind her and flopped back onto her bed, staring up at the moulded ceiling.
Did she actually have a chance to get out?
Fearing the hope would escalate, she squashed it deep and begun reciting the wedding plans.
It wasn’t worth planning for later, the actuality of it happening was small. Especially when her father’s plan was contingent on her immaculate behaviour, and she didn’t quite believe her mother would allow that to happen.
Daphne didn’t see her mother at all until the next Saturday, it was a welcome relief but didn’t temper her nerves. The meeting at Malfoy Manor with the wedding party was over lunch and she’d be navigating spending time with both sets of parents and both sides of the wedding party.
She dressed accordingly, wearing a knee length pastel yellow dress that surprisingly complimented her blonde hair, she also hoped the subtle colour might allow her to blend into the background.
It seemed to do just the trick, Daphne followed her parents into the renovated Manor, not being able to temper her admiration for Narcissa Malfoy’s quick turnover of the huge estate.
It’d been dark and rather creepy when she’d visited before the war, deliberately gothic and intimidating. In just a couple of years she’s revolutionised the whole estate, bringing in light and colour.
Astoria adored it.
Daphne was happy for her.
Their mother’s led the meeting along with Astoria, explaining the schedules and plans for each event to make everyone aware now the date itself was imminent.
Her own father was comfortable to observe, likely completely uninterested in the proceedings. Whilst Lucius Malfoy, who’d escaped re-imprisonment due to lack of evidence, watched from the opposite head of the table, making small comments to Theo Nott.
Daphne managed to stay quiet for nearly half of the meeting until the agenda brought them onto the stag and hen parties, and her mother attempted to interrupt Narcissa to say that Daphne wasn’t going.
Narcissa brushed her off quickly, “we can move it if you have other commitments, gosh, my sisters made my, well we didn’t have a ‘hen’ parties, I had a lunch, but they made that party,” she recalled fondly.
Everyone including Henrietta stopped to listen because Narcissa Malfoy didn’t speak of her sisters often, “they got your mother awfully drunk; do you remember?” she asked Lucius from across the large mahogany table.
His lip twitched briefly in amusement, “I do, she might’ve even laughed, my father was astonished,”
Narcissa laughed merrily, “and the gift,” she prompted.
He chuckled, “those damned peacocks,” he explained, then looked to Draco, “sourced them from an old drunk, and gifted us a whole pride,” he sneered.
“And you’ve been threatening to turn them into a pie ever since,” Narcissa teased.
Lucius glanced at Theo, then his wife, “I might,”
“Do you have plans darling?” Narcissa asked, looking to Daphne.
Daphne blushed at the attention, “I’ll make arrangements,” she lied quickly, “of course I’ll be there,” she reassured Astoria.
Her mother looked perturbed but had little power to provide evidence on the contrary.
“Excellent,” Theo purred, “and if you’re looking for some entertainment, Sebastian and I would be delighted to join you,”
Sebastian Lestrange snickered from Theo’s other side, sending Narcissa an exaggerated wink.
The two made another handsome pair. Sebastian resembled his father little, taking most of his features from his mother who’d only spent three years in Britain before fleeing back to Turkey with her infant son. His brown hair was shoulder length and worn half up, framing neat eyebrows and deep brown eyes. His strong nose complimented his soft lips and long eyelashes.
He was another beautiful man she yearned to be attracted to.
Narcissa rolled her eyes fondly and looked down at the notes, “very tempting, but I don’t think we have the time for such a performance, perhaps we could revisit that later,”
Theo pouted, “the offer’s there,”
She hummed dismissively, then glanced at her husband with a mischievous glint in her eye, “well it is my birthday coming up,” she trailed off, leaving the suggestion in the air.
Both Draco and Lucius gave her identical unimpressed looks whilst she smoothly moved onto the next part of the agenda.
Daphne was delighted to catch the outraged expression on her mother’s face before she covered it up.
Women showing an ounce of personality was a no no, as was undermining her abusive parenting style.
Daphne wasn’t exactly sure why she wasn’t wanted at the party, she was sure it’d be monologued to her eventually.
The meeting continued, there weren’t many tasks being handed out, but they did want everyone aware of proceedings to assist in the event of any problems.
“How soon can we do a rehearsal?”
“You know,” Pansy broached as she slid down into the seat next to Daphne, “I thought you broke up with Zabini because he couldn’t give you an heir,” she revealed, looking straight ahead to the meeting’s occupants.
They’d gathered in a sunny parlour for appetisers and Daphne had found a little corner to hide in. As she was unmarried it was formality for her to remain at her parent’s side for the entirety of the party.
Daphne’s head snapped over to her, horrified, “I- of course not, I never cared about that,”
Pansy studied her carefully, “apparently so, but it didn’t add up, he was your best friend, loved you, and was an excellent match,” she listed off on her fingers, her red manicure catching the light.
Daphne was too exhausted to argue, “those things are all true,”
Pansy hummed, “but still not good enough for little lady Daphne Greengrass,” she sneered, hostility marring her tone.
Daphne didn’t even react.
“He was protecting you,” Pansy accused.
Resigned, Daphne looked over at her, “Blaise is my friend,”
Pansy glared at her, the venom in her eyes couldn’t possibly be falsified.
“What do you want me to say, Parkinson?” Daphne whispered, looking back to the party to ensure she wouldn’t be caught leading precious Pansy astray.
“I apologise,” Pansy muttered, so quiet that Daphne barely heard her.
Wow.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Daphne replied petulantly. They were way past apologies, following the breakup Pansy had made Daphne’s already miserable life a living hell.
Pansy scoffed harshly, “I am attempting to make amends, you could pretend to be interested,”
Daphne looked over at her frowning in confusion, “why?”
Pansy looked away, “I misjudged you based on your treatment of Blaise, I didn’t believe that he was protecting you, I thought he was a love-struck idiot,”
Daphne hugged her arms around herself, “oh,”
Pansy frowned, “oh?”
“I’m not sure what you wanted me to say, I feel awful, I will always feel awful about it, I wished I could just pretend but I can’t,” Daphne whispered fervently. She’d ruined her relationship with her best friend and been shunned because of it. The relations with her friends had only been improved by her father using her politically, and now he’d burnt that olive branch.
“I understand,” Pansy spoke quietly.
“You-“
“I understand,” she repeated more insistently.
Daphne nodded slowly.
“Therefore, I have a proposal,” Pansy spoke perkily, any shred of relatability vanishing.
Daphne’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked over at Pansy, “typically rude thing to do at someone else’s wedding,” she retorted under her breath.
“It’s dependent on how much I can stomach speaking to you, so perhaps you can be quiet and listen?” Pansy sneered, before giving Astoria a polite smile when she looked over to check on them. Likely confused about them speaking.
Daphne dipped her head, “okay,”
Pansy smiled with her eyes sarcastically, “excellent, your situation with your parents is clearly dreadful, mine is not improving, I propose we suggest courting. A long, long courtship to placate them whilst we figure out our next steps,”
Daphne stared at her dumbly.
“Yes or no Greengrass?”
“You want to court me?”
“Want is subjective, but yes,”
Daphne frowned, “my relationship with my father has improved, he offered me my own house after the wedding,”
Pansy scoffed, “wise up Greengrass. That’s code for ‘there’s a deeply depraved man attending the wedding that wishes to purchase you’ despite your troubles and he wants to lull you into a false sense of security,”
“That’s not true,” Daphne denied immediately.
The look Pansy gave her was almost sympathetic, “it is, he recognised you’re at your wits end,” she spoke delicately, “has his behaviour changed?”
He asked for her side of the story for once.
She nodded hesitantly.
Pansy took a deep breath and glanced at the other guests, dipping her head to look her in the eye, “when my father found out about me setting up my business, he got me drunk in an attempt to have me sign a contract with a man who’d almost certainly killed his last two wives, I fled and set up my business in Paris rather than London, but now I want to come home,”
Daphne took in that information, feeling herself being drawn into Pansy's pleading gaze. The realisation that Pansy’s freedom might have been more like an escape was a startling one. Enough so that Daphne found herself reluctantly nodding.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Daphne confirmed, not sure she had anything to lose, “you want to be my wife?”
Pansy scoffed, “we won’t let it go that far, and if we do, we can arrange something,”
Somehow the slight still pinched, “I need to talk to my father,”
“Do it tomorrow, at dinner,” she suggested.
Daphne’s brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”
“I spoke to Draco, he’ll support you,”
Her eyes flitted over Pansy’s face, “okay,” she mumbled.
Daphne was sure she’d never taken the lead on anything. In school she’d never been a prefect, never been the one to lead a project, she was a glorified messenger and part of the furniture for her father.
She didn’t know whether it was a good choice, whether it was counterproductive or going to ruin her life.
But it was a choice. Something she could choose herself, control herself.
And that was more grace than she’d ever been given.
“I’ve put a phone in your bag, Draco says they work at the Abbey, contact me on there, I’ve given you instructions,”
Daphne scoffed, “I cannot believe you just said that, but okay,” she confirmed and stood to leave, giving Pansy a final confused glance.