Chapter 4
Daphne didn’t speak to her parents for all of the next week.
In fact, she’d barely spoken to anyone.
She felt like another ghost haunting Greengrass Abbey.
Both had been gone before she’d been escorted back home by Draco and Blaise.
The estate was eerie on the best of days, being entirely alone for days had been quite unsettling.
It certainly had felt like a punishment.
She had no idea where they were.
There’d been no note, no letters.
Daphne had resorted to wandering the halls aimlessly.
It was Thursday, and there was no chance she’d be making the trip to Nott Castle, too comfortable in her isolation to brave stepping out of it.
She’d been completely mortified looking back on her breakdown.
And there wasn’t another word for it.
She’d created such a fuss for something that wasn’t urgent by any means.
The wedding was still two weeks away.
Even time she attempted to justify her behaviour to herself she came up so short.
Her father was permanently maimed.
Her father.
And she’d mutilated him.
He was still intact physically but still.
Daphne shoved down her guilt. There was nothing she could do to resolve it.
Her wandering brought her back to the floral corridor housing the entrances to her bedroom, and the one that’d belonged to Astoria.
She glanced at Astoria’s door longingly.
There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t miss her sister’s company. She mourned the loss. Even if Astoria was a neurotic cow.
Daphne allowed herself to bathe in the melancholy.
A distant ringing snapped her out of her reminiscing. The noise foreign in her silent estate.
She frowned to herself, attempting to place the jarring noise against the silence.
The phone.
Pansy bloody Parkinson’s mobile telephone.
The link between the two was as different as night and day. Daphne might give her left arm to borrow a time turner just to tell fourteen-year-old Parkinson that she’d be using muggle technology. The horrid girl.
Daphne rushed into her bedroom, searching for her handbag where the phone had been left completely untouched.
She dropped to her knees on the hardwood floorboards, reaching frantically for the bag.
The ringing stopped, then started up again, seemingly with twice the ferocity.
She fumbled around the bag for it, staring at the plastic then turning it over to reveal the buttons and ‘screen’ which currently displayed ‘Pansy <3’.
Daphne frowned at the wretched thing, attempting to discern what to do with the many buttons.
The ringing stopped, Pansy’s name disappearing.
Daphne let out a relieved sigh, reaching for the little instruction book that accompanied the phone.
She scrambled through the first few pages, scanning through the gibberish.
The ringing recommenced.
Daphne huffed inelegantly at the noise as she tried to take in the unfamiliar terminology with vigour.
It stopped.
Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she began reading leisurely, attempting to settle her heart rate.
Daphne eyed the phone with suspicion, waiting for it to make a racket again.
Comfortable that Pansy had stopped bothering her, Daphne leant back against the wall, dropping her head back and took several deep breaths.
The ringing restarted.
Daphne let out a scream of frustration and gripped the small, grey plastic thing, pressing every single button until the ringing stopped.
She took haggard breaths as she stared at it in anticipation.
“Greengrass, did your mother never teach manners?” Parkinson’s voice cut through the silence.
Daphne glared in the direction of it, “did yours teach you to be an insufferable harpy, or were you born that way?”
Pansy sighed deeply, “I can barely hear you; it’s supposed to go next to your head,”
Daphne huffed and lifted the phone to in front of her face, “is that better, my lady?”
Parkinson of course was not a Lady, not even close.
“Are you being deliberately evasive? Not arriving at a planned appointment is considered rude, especially when you’re on suicide watch, there’s gentlemen fretting here,” Pansy sneered from the little box.
Daphne leaned back, head hitting the plaster, “whoever’s watching me is doing a terribly lax job of it, I could’ve lobbed myself off the roof a dozen times since Sunday, you do realise no one is here?”
There was a long pause, “Nott’s. Now.”
Daphne rolled her eyes, “I’m busy,” she resisted weakly.
“Doing what? Painting your nails and learning needlepoint?”
Daphne had never considered herself to be mean.
Recent events aside.
Diplomatic was a good word to describe her.
Others might use ‘doormat’.
But Daphne doormat Greengrass was finding is inordinately difficult to restrain herself from telling Parkinson to shove it.
Pansy cleared her throat, “you should,” she paused, “come see your friends Greengrass,” she spoke weakly, “it’s not good to be all cooped up,”
Daphne had a hard time not taking that as a jab calling her a chicken. Her knee jerk reaction was to tell her to she’d rather face her father than leave the solitude of her prison to go be examined warily by her friends.
Pansy seemed to take Daphne’s pause as a refusal, “I’m sending Blaise,”
Daphne made a noise of protestation, “there’s no need Parkinson,”
Pansy scoffed, “hardly, are you going to keep hiding away? It’s pathetic, so what, there’s more embarrassing things that can happen than a failed suicide attempt. At least you’ve never worn plaid and floral together,”
Daphne glared at the far wall, ignoring the jab at her sister’s experimental fashion phase, “it was meant to fail,”
“Excellent,” Parkinson drawled, “see you in five,”
The line crackled and beeped.
Daphne dropped her hand to her lap and stared at the phone for a moment.
She banged her head back against the wall again, regretting it immediately before standing and making her way over to her wardrobe.
Daphne dressed in record time, wearing an uncharacteristically loose-fitting jumper over her impeccably tailored shirt and trousers.
She hoped subconsciously it’d swallow her whole.
Daphne carried out her walk to the downstairs fireplace like a walk to the gallows. Head low, dragging her feet every step.
She mumbled ‘Nott Castle’ and continued the walk to the centre of the keep, the sounds of her friends conversing echoed down the lofty corridor.
Haunted by Pansy’s rightful accusations of cowardice, Daphne squared her shoulders, walked into the room and sat in the first available space.
Instead of passing greetings, all eyes turned to her.
Did she forget pants?
Daphne stared back, startled.
Astoria scoffed and kicked Theo Nott’s shin.
He swore dramatically and smirked at Daphne, “nice to see you, Greengrass,”
Daphne gave him a strained smile, “you too,”
Blaise snorted quietly.
She sent him a sharp look.
Pansy let out a deep sigh, “so, have you spoken to your parents? I’ve been putting off meetings all week,”
Daphne frowned, “no? They’re not there,”
“Where are they?” Astoria interjected.
Daphne looked at her blankly, “I’m not sure,”
Pansy tutted, “I have about a months’ worth of work to do before this meeting Greengrass, and you’ve been, what...”
Daphne cut her off, “needlepoint, I heard you the first time Parkinson. What do you want? Shall I consult the fucking stars to find them? We freed our elves, so I can’t just ask them to pop over and tell them that their holiday is inconveniencing you, so could they please re-emerge from whatever corner of the globe they’ve scurried off to. And if I did, I’m sure they’d be delighted to see me and would happily facilitate our upcoming marriage. Grow up.”
Theo scoffed, “tell me again why this is a good idea?”
Daphne blushed heavily.
She’d never swore like that in front of a man.
Pansy opened her mouth to speak again but was stopped by Adrian’s hand on her arm.
Adrian cleared his throat, “I didn’t spend all of yesterday working for free on this bloody contract for you to be bickering again, Theo can we borrow a room?”
Theo stared at him, then shrugged.
Adrian rolled his eyes and stood, “this way ladies,” he announced before nearly sauntering out of the room.
Daphne stared at his back, then over at Pansy before clearing her throat and standing gingerly.
Astoria gave her an encouraging smile, eyes bright and still hopeful.
The expression made Daphne feel one hundred years old.
“Don’t look too miserable about it,” Theo teased.
Daphne halted mid step, squared her shoulders and turned to face Nott, “if I hear one more comment from a man about any of this,” she waved her hand in the general direction of Parkinson, “you’ll be getting an urgent portkey to join my father in whatever new-age healing retreat he’s fucked off to,” she warned harshly, glancing across the esteemed gentleman.
A smirk slowly spread over Theo’s face before he nodded obediently, “yes, my lady,” he purred before glancing at Pansy, “good luck darling,”
Pansy sneered at him before standing and taking Daphne out of the room by her elbow.
“You need to stop reacting,” she murmured as they walked across the corridor to the dining room.
Adrian looked up from the opposite end of the vast room, sat at the end of the long dining table surrounded by papers.
Daphne glanced around the cavernous space. It had previously housed dozens of portraits that’d been rehoused to some distant attic. Their impressions had been left on the stone though, lighter rectangles plagued the walls, the previously covered areas that hadn’t been subjected to years of candle smoke and dust.
She looked at Pansy, “they don’t know what it’s like,” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
Pansy scoffed, “obviously,” she drawled, her tone patronising, ruining any camaraderie she briefly shown with the other witch.
Daphne schooled her expression before it could turn sour and shook off Pansy’s grip on her arm before hastening towards Adrian, sitting down quickly at his right whilst Pansy maintained a leisurely pace across the room.
Once she finally took her seat, Adrian flicked his wand towards the door, shutting it and establishing simple wards.
Daphne’s throat felt tight, and she gripped her hands in her lap.
Adrian smiled tightly at both of them, “I was joking before about the money, don’t worry about that. I copied over much of the wording from Draco and Astoria’s agreement, but, you know, edited it a bit,” he explained.
Daphne nodded subtly.
Pansy extended a hand across the table and dragged the stack of paper across the wood towards herself.
Daphne winced at the sound.
Adrian cleared his throat and began explaining the contract.
She tried really very hard to listen to his explanations of their legal rights, the division of their assets, etc. etc. but Parkinson was making obnoxious ruffling noises every time she turned a page and hummed at the wrong parts as Adrian spoke.
“Parkinson you’re being inordinately rude,” Daphne spoke eventually, cutting Adrian off, she gave him a look of sincere apology.
Pansy scoffed and glanced at Adrian, “I am rather fond of you Pucey, but I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Greengrass hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said,”
His eyebrows furrowed and he looked to Daphne, “it’s important you’re aware of what you’re signing, I’ll need to go grab someone as a witness as well,”
Daphne averted her eyes, flushing with embarrassment, “I apologise, I suppose I’m a little overwhelmed,”
Adrian frowned then glanced at Pansy, “I’ll leave you to read this,” he glanced at his watch, “I’ll be back at twelve with a witness,”
Pansy smiled falsely at him, “thank you, we’ll make sure to look through everything,”
He narrowed his eyes but stood, hands splayed on the tabletop, “let me know if you have any questions,”
Daphne nodded quickly.
He glanced at Pansy but didn’t receive a response. Rolling his eyes, he buttoned his suit jacket and strolled out of the dining room, leaving the wards in place.
Pansy waited five seconds before she quickly stood, unsheathing her wand before casting a series of charms over both the paperwork and the table.
She flicked her wand outwards towards the walls, sending pleasant blue light over every inch of the walls, floors, windows, and doors.
Daphne sat there blankly, unwilling to disturb her and too meek to challenge her.
The light soaked into every surface, disappearing from sight until the room returned to its original state.
Pansy gave Daphne a considering glance, “you’re like a beaten dog,”
Ouch.
“Well at least I don’t look like one,” Daphne muttered childishly, dragging the papers across the table so she could read them for herself.
Parkinson stayed mute, though Daphne could feel her stare as she read every word in the contract.
Eventually, once Daphne was certain all thirty pages were legitimate, and she wasn’t unintentionally selling her soul to the devil, she passed the pages back.
Pansy reordered the document, tapping the edges of the stack of paper on the table top to re-align the pages before she placed it back at the empty head of the table.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Daphne asked, attempting to leave the confusion out of her tone. Pansy had only been halfway through when Adrian had been speaking.
Pansy sighed deeply, “you’re not a complete idiot Greengrass, and the contents of the contract are irrelevant, I need to speak with you about the courtship,”
Daphne nodded hesitantly and gave the contract a glance, “okay?”
“I think we should do a traditional courtship,” Parkinson announced, “we can start next weekend, after the rehearsal dinner,”
Daphne opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“You can speak, Greengrass, safe space,”
Daphne plastered on her most scornfully disbelieving face and rolled her eyes, “we can’t begin courting during somebody else’s wedding, especially my sister’s. Do you not recall your love affair with Draco?”
She felt deep satisfaction as Pansy cringed at the reminder.
Daphne smelled blood in the water, “surely a few of the guests will remember his hand being up your skirt during prefect rounds?”
Pansy flushed bright red.
“And you want to turn up at the wedding with the bride’s sister? What an excellent start to both ours and their matrimony,”
She glanced across at the papers then back at Daphne, her expression blank, “the forfeiting of my virtue was self-preservation,” she stated emotionlessly, “my prospects were bleaker than yours have ever been,”
Daphne scoffed.
Pansy’s eyes took on a mean edge.
Aware of the potential vicious defence from her former dorm-mate, Daphne cleared her throat and decided to steer conversation elsewhere, “okay, we’re getting side tracked. It’s all in the execution,” Daphne parroted from one of the many lectures she’d been subjected to over the years. Greengrass’ were politicians, businessmen and social puppeteers. Even the women in the families were meticulously bred for the lifestyle, ready to be distributed to allies upon coming of age.
Daphne should be able to coordinate the smooth reception of her courtship in her sleep.
She was exhausted.
Apparently, it showed.
“Traditional,” Parkinson reiterated, apparently mature enough after a decade to dismiss any and all opportunities for a fight, “the relationship is ‘modern’, we can go old school to present it,”
Daphne nodded in agreement, “as if it was always there, seamless, okay,” she spoke out loud, attempting to gather her sluggish thoughts.
Pansy watched her carefully, airing on patient.
“So, we’ll be giving each other favours and gifts?” Daphne asked rhetorically, building up a picture.
Parkinson nodded anyway.
“We’ll need to be caught,” she surmised.
“Where did you come to that conclusion?”
Daphne’s eyes darted around the aged brickwork, “if we announce before the wedding it’s going to look cheap and rushed, plus we won’t be able to sell ‘in love’ to the guests. We need to be hiding in plain sight, exchanging gifts and spending time together closely. If someone puts the pieces together, we won’t need to build a picture, it would have been happening all along,”
“For two weeks,” Parkinson drawled, “the wedding is in two weeks,”
Daphne nodded, “and there’s half a dozen events between now and then,”
Parkinson sighed deeply.
“This was your idea,” Daphne accused, barely restraining the urge to point a finger.
She nodded mutely, “listen,” Pansy levelled after taking a moment to gather herself.
Daphne’s attention narrowed onto her, hoping to have their arrangement squared out before Adrian returned shortly.
“I don’t like you,”
Daphne scoffed and stood to leave, deciding in that moment she’d rather be some hideous old man’s nurse maid or another’s punching bag.
“Wait!” Parkinson rushed, “wait,” she repeated, “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me,” she finished.
Daphne couldn’t refute that one.
Pansy looked towards the locked oak door, “everyone out there has no idea,”
Daphne followed her gaze towards the door, Pansy’s words reminding of Theo’s jokes or their friend’s bemusement of the whole matter.
They’d likely never understand the stakes unless presented with them. For Pansy to be dressed up falsely in white or Daphne shipped further afield than western Europe.
“Not even Astoria,” Pansy continued, “because she had you,”
Daphne took a deep breath and nodded to herself. Astoria’s naivety was at times Daphne’s greatest accomplishment, and others a source of deep loneliness.
“We need a plan,”
Daphne turned back to Parkinson, studying her irritatingly pleasant features distantly, “to get out?”
Pansy nodded, a twinkle in her eye sprouted at Daphne finally catching up, “what do we need?”
The stack of white papers rested starkly against the wooden tabletop.
What do you need to escape a powerful institution unscathed with your head held high?
“Money, allies, and public opinion?”
Pansy chuckled lowly, “that’s not a question, Greengrass. Money, allies, and public opinion.”
Someone, presumably Adrian, knocked at the door.
Daphne’s head shot to it, her heartbeat racketing.
“Don’t worry about them,” Pansy dismissed, “I have some money, but it’s mostly invested in the business. We’re going to need to work together on the business to up the profits, but that can wait,”
She dragged her attention from the door back to Pansy, despite them knocking again, “allies we have, father has already alienated them,”
“Public opinion,” Pansy counted off her manicured fingers.
Daphne glanced down to the contract, “Witch Weekly thinks I’m boring and my outfits are ‘understated’, the Prophet once called me meek on the front page,”
“They’re not wrong,” Pansy drawled, glancing at the pudgy jumper Daphne drowned herself in.
Daphne didn’t even flinch, “having a personality is frowned upon,”
Pansy hummed, “you’d better get comfortable with rebelling,” she retorted as she stood, her stilettos echoing in the large room as she strolled towards the door, flicking her wand aimlessly to pull down her hastily erected wards.
Daphne watched her, using the opportunity where her back was turned to study her at length.
Pansy Parkinson oozed personality unflinchingly. When she was on form even the most outgoing of their friends seemed modest in comparison.
She eclipsed Daphne.
But as beaten down as Daphne was, she was more than capable of manipulating their situation to ensure they came out on top.
Daphne studied down the lines of Pansy’s form, she was briefly hit with a surge of confidence, “everyone but us needs to think ‘us’ is something worth rebelling for,” she announced.
Pansy nearly stumbled to a stop and turned to look over her shoulder at Daphne, a pleased expression spread over her features, “there you are.” She tucked errant strands of her bob behind her ear and smirked, “it will be, probably not in the way they think,” she answered, “right? We’re getting out together, even if it means we’re beholden to that contract?”
Daphne looked over to the contract then met Pansy’s unflinching stare, “yes.”
Pansy nodded to herself and ripped down the last of the wards, stalking towards the door and throwing it open, revealing an impatient Adrian Pucey flanked by Draco and Theo, “can you not take a hint?” she barked, tone embellished with inuendo.
Daphne flushed at the idea.
Theo scoffed, pushing past Adrian and into the room, “I’ve seen inanimate objects with more chemistry than the two of you,”
Pansy watched him walk to the head of the table and sit down with a sigh. She met Daphne’s eye briefly and subtly raised one eyebrow.
Oh no.
Lacking chemistry certainly wasn’t worth rebelling for.
Daphne looked over Theo then back to Pansy and nodded once.