FIC: An Unexpected Suitor (Daphne/Dean)
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hp_rarefestTitle: An Unexpected Suitor
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sara_lakali
Prompt: 113. Her parents warned her not to date anyone outside their small circle of acquaintances. Sadly, they don't know her very well. Not telling the parents until after the elopement would be fun! (though not required)
Prompt submitted by:dormiensa
Pairing(s): Daphne Greengrass/Dean Thomas
Word Count/Art Medium: 3341
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to the ever-fabulous G for excellent beta services. Any mistakes left are my fault entirely. The idea of Minsk, Belarus, as the Las Vegas of the wizarding world comes from What Happens in Minsk Stays in Minsk by ChaliceInnana. In her words: "Most Muggles think of Minsk and think frigid hellhole...Little do they know that Minsk is the Sin City of the wizarding world." Platform 7-1/2 is the platform for the train that goes to European wizard communities (as revealed on Pottermore).
Summary: Daphne's parents have got one daughter safely settled. They're eager for Daphne to follow her sister's example and marry a rich pureblood. Daphne is less than enthusiastic about this plan.
Daphne Greengrass was feeling a little lost and reckless the day she stopped in to the new wizarding bar, Mirage. Just two days ago her sister had finally married Draco Malfoy and the pair were off on their honeymoon. She ordered a glass of elf-made wine at the bar and settled in to soak up the atmosphere. Because the bar was so new, it was mostly being frequented by artists of various sorts. Daphne wasn't an artist herself, unless one counted the ability to move through life without revealing anything of herself as an art.
Two wizards and one witch tried to chat her up while she sat there drinking that glass and another. She wasn't impressed enough to exchange anything more than pleasantries with any of them. While Daphne dithered over ordering a third glass, she failed to notice the dark man approaching.
"Excuse me," he said in a smooth voice, "I think perhaps we went to school together."
She looked up into deep, brown eyes. "Perhaps," she allowed coolly, even as her pulse pounded.
"Dean Thomas," he said extending his hand.
She shook his hand slowly. "Daphne Greengrass."
"Daphne, I hope you won't think me too forward when I say that you have amazing bone structure. I'd like to sketch you someday."
"Hmm. That is a little forward. Why don't you buy me another glass of wine? Then we can find a quiet table and you can tell me more about my bone structure."
They talked well into the night, she charmed by his naked enthusiasm, he bewitched by the vulnerability just beneath her aloof shell. When they finally parted, he handed her his card. "I'm probably stealing your line, but I had a delightful evening. I hope you'll consent to pose for me."
She took his card with a serene smile. She thought about Dean and his request all that next day while her mother droned on about how unseemly it was for Daphne to return home in the wee hours.
"...staying out to all hours, doing who even knows what, and you still a single miss. Daphne, it's just not done. The Malfoys..."
Daphne kept her attention focused on directing her needle through the tapestry in front of her with her wand. Her restless spirit rebelled at the intense concentration and control the particular work demanded, but she didn't dare betray weakness by making a mistake that would have to be painstakingly picked out later.
"Daphne! Are you attending me?"
"Of course, mother," she answered calmly. "You were just saying how disappointed you are with my behaviour. Pray, continue."
In the same way she didn't show her frustration, neither did Daphne allow any hint of victory to show on her face as her mother flounced out of the room. She kept at her needlework for another hour before setting it aside. By then, she'd decided she'd be calling on Dean Thomas tomorrow, come hell or high water.
"Tilt your chin down just a fraction, please," Dean requested, a line of concentration forming between his brows.
Daphne complied. "When you said you wanted to sketch me, I thought you were just trying to chat me up."
"You really don't remember me from school at all, do you?"
"Not much. We had double Potions together. You were competent enough." In truth, life in Slytherin left little time for paying attention to boys, or anyone, really, from other houses, what with Parkinson's and Zabini's machinations on top of coursework.
Dean sketched furiously for the next few minutes. "All right," he said, laying his pencil aside. "You can take a break if you want."
She stood and stretched. "Can I see it or is it not fit to show anyone yet?"
"You can see it." He turned his sketchpad around for her.
Daphne's breath caught in her throat. He'd captured her wistful expression exactly. "This...this is just for your own enjoyment, right? You're not going to show it to anyone else."
"Don't you like it?"
"It's...a very good likeness. Perhaps a little too good."
He frowned. "I doubt I'm going to use this sketch as a base for another work any time soon. If it bothers you, I won't show it to anybody else."
Relief made her knees weak. "At least not right away, if you don't mind."
"May I ask why?"
"An unmarried, pureblood lady does not allow her inner thoughts to show on her face." Daphne grimaced briefly. "Certainly not an expression that reveals the slightest dissatisfaction with her lot in life."
Dean gave a little start of surprise. "Surely things are different now, with a new Minster and new faces in the Wizengamot...?"
"In public, perhaps. Within the families, attitudes, at least, are still very much the same."
"So, if I understand you correctly, in order for you to serve as my Muse, you need a husband," he said slowly.
"That's one solution, but even if I had any prospects in that area, I doubt that any husband that my parents would approve would be amenable to me acting as your Muse."
"Is your parents' approval necessary to your happiness?"
She laughed. "Quite the contrary."
"Then I have just the solution. We should get married."
"You and I?" At his solemn nod, she replied carefully, "Perhaps we should have a pre-engagement date."
It was Dean's turn to laugh. "All right. Are you hungry? You've got to be hungry, I've kept you posing for," he glanced at his watch, "three hours. Merlin, why didn't you say something, Daph? Is the Leaky Cauldron all right?"
She paused before answering. "You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"
"Muggle raised, at least. About a year ago I found out that my dad is really my step-dad. My biological father could have been a wizard, I don't know."
"Would you take me to a Muggle restaurant? I've never been to one."
"They're not very different from the wizarding sort, but I'll gladly take you wherever you want to go."
Daphne smiled and placed her hand in his. After lunch, they went back to his garret and she posed for him again, though not for as long this time. "I have to get back in time for tea," she apologised.
"Please consider my offer," he said earnestly.
"You cannot be serious."
"Serious as a Death Eater attack. No, listen," he said hastily when she would have protested. "You said yourself that my sketch of you was too good a likeness, that I was able to see underneath the mask you wear. I see a lot of things when I look at you. I see freedom from the roles we were born into. I see so much joy. I see our children and our grandchildren. Daphne, I see forever."
"I'll...I'll think on it." She didn't dare admit that when she looked in his eyes, she could see forever as well.
After that day, they met whenever she could sneak away from her stultifying daily grind. Somehow, those modelling sessions with Dean made the endless rounds of shopping, social calls, and tedious parties, both dinner and card, bearable. Daphne began to share her "little dreams", as she called them, for the things she wanted to experience and accomplish. Unlike her parents, Dean listened attentively and encouraged her ideas.
They didn't always stay at his garret, either. Daphne suggested they go into Muggle London to avoid running into anyone that might report back to her parents, and they spent many an afternoon in St. James and Green Parks. Sometimes she posed for him, sometimes they just enjoyed the sunshine and talked. Dean introduced her to the Muggle cinema, and took her to a performance of Romeo and Juliet at the Open Air Theatre.
Some three months after that evening in the artists' bar, at a quiet dinner in the Greengrass manor, Daphne's mother put down her fork and turned to her daughter. "Daphne, your father and I would like to talk to you about your future," she began diplomatically.
"High time you were married, girl," said her father gruffly.
"Yes, your father is quite correct, if a little brusque. Have you formed a particular attachment for any of the young men of your acquaintance?"
Daphne's pulse raced as she thought of Dean.
"You have! But this is wonderful. Who is it?"
Quickly schooling her features into neutrality, Daphne replied, "No one, Mother. I have no idea what you're talking about."
Her mother's mouth tightened in disapproval. "We are very concerned about this habit of yours, disappearing for hours at a time when no one knows where you are or what you're getting up to. Marriage will settle you. Your father and I have drawn up a list of men we think are suitable. It's in your room. Look it over and let us know which one you'd prefer."
Daphne rose slowly from her seat. "Mother, Father, please excuse me. I'm feeling unwell."
Her father waited until she'd made it to the door before saying in a menacing tone, "Make no mistake, girl, you will marry one of those men on that list. We are giving you leave to choose, but if you do not do so, one will be chosen for you."
"What's wrong?" Dean asked when she showed up the next day, bedraggled and soaked to the skin.
"Why have you never asked me to pose nude?"
He blinked in surprise. "I would never suggest anything so improper. Why? Did you want to pose nude?"
"Yes," she said decisively and started unbuttoning her robe.
"Daphne, wait." He stopped her before she shrugged her robe off. "Please tell me what's got you so upset."
"Oh, nothing," she said carelessly. "My parents informed me last night that I must choose a husband from their list of appropriately pureblooded wankers." Her voice broke on a sob, shattering her thin veneer of calm.
"I'm so sorry, Daph." He carefully wrapped his arms about her. She leaned into his warmth and let her tears flow. When her sobs finally faded to hiccoughs, he shifted his hold to her shoulders. "I'll get you a towel and something dry to wear."
In a few minutes, she was changing behind a screen while he put the kettle on.
"They can't force you to marry someone without resorting to an Unforgivable, can they?"
"There are ways," she replied darkly, "but they'll probably just threaten to throw me out of the house and cut off my allowance."
"'Hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,' is that it?" he said, quoting from the Bard's play.
"Precisely. What am I going to do, Dean?"
He handed her a cup of tea. "Take a page out of Juliet's book: go home and play the obedient daughter. Tell your parents that you're giving your decision all the consideration it merits. Then when you retire for the evening, pack a bag and come here. We'll catch the night train from Platform 7½ and be in Minsk by the day after tomorrow."
"That sounds wonderful," Daphne said as she smiled sadly.
"But?"
"But as soon as my father hears, he'll arrange for you to suffer a fatal accident."
"Daphne, my sweet Muse, I fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. Your father has nothing on murderous Death Eaters. Besides, your parents will very likely simply disown you."
"And then how will I live?" she practically wailed.
Dean hung his head. Sometimes, when he sold a painting or a sketch, the money was very good, but that didn't happen often. "I'll keep a roof over your head and food on the table, but you know, there is something to be said for earning your own money."
"I'll have you know I earn every Knut of my allowance," she replied indignantly.
"I'm sure you do," he soothed, "but wouldn't it be better to earn it by some other means than pretending to be someone you're not?"
"I don't know," she sighed, collapsing slowly into a nearby chair.
He sank to one knee in front of her and Summoned a small velvet bag. "Well, think on this." He tipped a sapphire and diamond ring out of the bag into his palm, extending it to her. "This was the ring my father gave my mother when he asked her to marry him. I'd be honoured if you'd wear it."
Daphne set aside her teacup and took the ring. "It's beautiful," she said softly, looking down at it. "Dean, I'm not some empty-headed pureblood miss. I know if we get married, I'll more than likely have to find a post somewhere to help keep the wolf from the door, and I'm willing to put forth my best efforts. Do you really think that you can handle my father? Because what I'm not willing to do is go down to the morgue at St. Mungo's to identify your mangled corpse."
"I'm sure. We'll throw a big reception when we get back. I'll make sure to invite Potter and Weasley. Pictures of us with them will be all over the front page of the Prophet. Your father will get the hint that we're well-connected and well protected." He paused. "Daphne, will you marry me?"
She nodded, tears spilling over her lashes. "Put this on me?" She handed the dainty ring back to him. "I want to wear it while I'm here, but I'll have to leave it with you when I go home."
He slid the ring on her third finger and then caught her up in his embrace, spilling her tea in the process. "Leave it," he said when she protested, and then he melded their mouths together.
Daphne didn't end up posing that day, though she stayed nearly two hours. When she left, she didn't go home right away, but went to visit her sister. Astoria's House-Elf, Domo, who had been a wedding gift from their parents, answered the door.
"Domo will tell Mistress that Miss has come to visit. If Miss will please be so good as to wait in the green drawing room...?" The elf gestured to and open door on his right.
Daphne took a seat in a spindly chair and waited. Astoria hurried in a few minutes later and Daphne jumped up to catch both of Astoria's hands in hers. "Dear sister, what brings you here on such a horrible day?" They kissed the air near each other's cheeks and sat down on the sofa.
"A horrible day is why, Tori, but you're looking exceedingly well. Married life agrees with you."
"Draco is...very attentive to my needs," Astoria said blushing slightly. "Mother and Father gave you their list, didn't they?"
"Why didn't you warn me?"
"They only asked me the other day if there were any names I thought should be added. I take it you're underwhelmed by their choices. I did suggest they should expand their horizons and include a few prominent half-bloods."
"Astoria, I'm not going to marry any of those men. More than one of them is Father's age or older! One is just out of Hogwarts."
"None of them? I thought some of them wouldn't have been too terrible, or, no!" Astoria gasped. "Daphne, you've fallen for someone not on the list! Don't try to deny it, I know all your tells. Who is it?"
Daphne sighed. This was why she came here, after all. "Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born artist that Draco and I went to school with."
"Not in Slytherin, then."
"No." She shook her head. "Gryffindor."
"I see your dilemma. What are you going to do?"
"He's asked me to run away to Minsk with him."
"How romantic," Astoria said with a gentle smile. "You know if you do, Father will have him killed and probably disown you, don't you?"
"Exactly what I told Dean. He has a plan to deal with that and I thought I should give you the opportunity to be involved."
"What makes you think I want to be involved in your runaway marriage?"
"I don't. In fact, I don't know that you won't scotch everything by sending Father an owl as soon as I leave here. I only know you might be hurt if we threw a big party and didn't ask you to be the hostess."
"Perhaps you'd better tell me more of your young man and this plan of his."
So Daphne described, and enthused, and explained for the next half-hour. When she was done, Astoria called for Domo.
The elf popped into existence. "Mistress has need of something?" he asked, bowing so low that his ears almost touched the carpet.
"Please bring the tea tray and ask Master Draco if he will join us here."
Draco appeared with flattering haste, Daphne thought, and he looked far happier than he had the entire time they had been at school.
"Daphne, what a pleasant surprise," he said, shaking her hand. "Has Astoria offered to show you the changes she's already made to the place?"
"We've had more pressing business to discuss, Draco," Astoria said, kissing his cheek and then retaking her seat. "Daphne has formed a connection that our parents would surely disapprove of, if they but knew of it."
"Oh?" Draco's expression was one of mild curiosity. Daphne wasn't sure if that was just a mask or if her former Housemate was that changed.
"Dean Thomas," Daphne supplied with a self-conscious shrug.
Draco smirked. "He managed to pull Potter's wife when she was still single. They dated for the better part of a year. He wasn't a bad Chaser, either. You could do worse."
"Daphne wants us to host her reception. She'll be leaving for Minsk..." Astoria tuned to her sister with a questioning look.
"Later tonight."
"Are you planning to honeymoon in Minsk, as well?" Draco asked.
"Does that mean you'll host our reception? Dean wants to invite Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and probably his Muggle family, and--"
Astoria took Daphne's hand. "Send us a list of everyone you want to invite. It's a little over two days from here to Minsk by train. Two days for your wedding and honeymoon gives us a week, unless you want me to be your Matron of Honour."
"Oh, Tori." Tears spilled from Daphne's lashes as she hugged her sister tightly.
"Ladies," interrupted Draco. "I will arrange for a Portkey to take Astoria to Minsk two mornings from today and return her home that evening."
Now it was Astoria's turn to shed a tear and embrace her husband. The touching scene was interrupted by Domo with the tea tray. They discussed the particulars and then Daphne left for home. Astoria had promised to Floo their parents and assure them that Daphne had come to ask her advice on future marriage plans.
The elder Greengrasses were far less disapproving when Daphne arrived and even granted her request to take her dinner on a tray in her room so that she might contemplate her choice in peace. Once alone, Daphne swiftly packed everything she owned in her trunk, saving out a week's worth of
clothes for travelling, and waited for her parents to go to bed. Then, hefting her valise and levitating her trunk behind her, she tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door without a backward glance.
"Any problems?" Dean asked when she arrived at his garret.
"None," she assured him. "I gave Astoria my vault key. She'll arrange it so my parents can't seize my funds in retaliation for us running away like this. She and Draco are going to host our reception as well. We have to draw up a guest list and get it to them as soon as possible."
Dean shook his head. "Hard to believe Draco Malfoy is going to welcome Muggles into his home. Generations of Malfoys must be spinning in their graves."
Daphne shrugged. "Astoria makes him happy, apparently. He wants to make her happy."
"Well, let's go." He tried to pick up her trunk. "Whoof. What did you pack in this?"
"Just leave it here, Dean. I've got everything I need in my valise."
"And is that heavy enough to be filled with bricks as well?" he teased.
"My trunk’s got everything I own that wasn't in my vault," she said simply. "I thought if I had to, I could sell my formal robes and jewellery."
"I won't let things get so bad that you have to sell your clothes," he said shocked.
"I won't need most of them anymore," Daphne insisted. "I promise I'll keep a few for when you have a show of your work. Where is my ring?"
"I have it here." He slid it back on her finger, and they walked out into their future together.
Author/Artist:
sara_lakali Prompt: 113. Her parents warned her not to date anyone outside their small circle of acquaintances. Sadly, they don't know her very well. Not telling the parents until after the elopement would be fun! (though not required)
Prompt submitted by:
dormiensaPairing(s): Daphne Greengrass/Dean Thomas
Word Count/Art Medium: 3341
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to the ever-fabulous G for excellent beta services. Any mistakes left are my fault entirely. The idea of Minsk, Belarus, as the Las Vegas of the wizarding world comes from What Happens in Minsk Stays in Minsk by ChaliceInnana. In her words: "Most Muggles think of Minsk and think frigid hellhole...Little do they know that Minsk is the Sin City of the wizarding world." Platform 7-1/2 is the platform for the train that goes to European wizard communities (as revealed on Pottermore).
Summary: Daphne's parents have got one daughter safely settled. They're eager for Daphne to follow her sister's example and marry a rich pureblood. Daphne is less than enthusiastic about this plan.
Daphne Greengrass was feeling a little lost and reckless the day she stopped in to the new wizarding bar, Mirage. Just two days ago her sister had finally married Draco Malfoy and the pair were off on their honeymoon. She ordered a glass of elf-made wine at the bar and settled in to soak up the atmosphere. Because the bar was so new, it was mostly being frequented by artists of various sorts. Daphne wasn't an artist herself, unless one counted the ability to move through life without revealing anything of herself as an art.
Two wizards and one witch tried to chat her up while she sat there drinking that glass and another. She wasn't impressed enough to exchange anything more than pleasantries with any of them. While Daphne dithered over ordering a third glass, she failed to notice the dark man approaching.
"Excuse me," he said in a smooth voice, "I think perhaps we went to school together."
She looked up into deep, brown eyes. "Perhaps," she allowed coolly, even as her pulse pounded.
"Dean Thomas," he said extending his hand.
She shook his hand slowly. "Daphne Greengrass."
"Daphne, I hope you won't think me too forward when I say that you have amazing bone structure. I'd like to sketch you someday."
"Hmm. That is a little forward. Why don't you buy me another glass of wine? Then we can find a quiet table and you can tell me more about my bone structure."
They talked well into the night, she charmed by his naked enthusiasm, he bewitched by the vulnerability just beneath her aloof shell. When they finally parted, he handed her his card. "I'm probably stealing your line, but I had a delightful evening. I hope you'll consent to pose for me."
She took his card with a serene smile. She thought about Dean and his request all that next day while her mother droned on about how unseemly it was for Daphne to return home in the wee hours.
"...staying out to all hours, doing who even knows what, and you still a single miss. Daphne, it's just not done. The Malfoys..."
Daphne kept her attention focused on directing her needle through the tapestry in front of her with her wand. Her restless spirit rebelled at the intense concentration and control the particular work demanded, but she didn't dare betray weakness by making a mistake that would have to be painstakingly picked out later.
"Daphne! Are you attending me?"
"Of course, mother," she answered calmly. "You were just saying how disappointed you are with my behaviour. Pray, continue."
In the same way she didn't show her frustration, neither did Daphne allow any hint of victory to show on her face as her mother flounced out of the room. She kept at her needlework for another hour before setting it aside. By then, she'd decided she'd be calling on Dean Thomas tomorrow, come hell or high water.
"Tilt your chin down just a fraction, please," Dean requested, a line of concentration forming between his brows.
Daphne complied. "When you said you wanted to sketch me, I thought you were just trying to chat me up."
"You really don't remember me from school at all, do you?"
"Not much. We had double Potions together. You were competent enough." In truth, life in Slytherin left little time for paying attention to boys, or anyone, really, from other houses, what with Parkinson's and Zabini's machinations on top of coursework.
Dean sketched furiously for the next few minutes. "All right," he said, laying his pencil aside. "You can take a break if you want."
She stood and stretched. "Can I see it or is it not fit to show anyone yet?"
"You can see it." He turned his sketchpad around for her.
Daphne's breath caught in her throat. He'd captured her wistful expression exactly. "This...this is just for your own enjoyment, right? You're not going to show it to anyone else."
"Don't you like it?"
"It's...a very good likeness. Perhaps a little too good."
He frowned. "I doubt I'm going to use this sketch as a base for another work any time soon. If it bothers you, I won't show it to anybody else."
Relief made her knees weak. "At least not right away, if you don't mind."
"May I ask why?"
"An unmarried, pureblood lady does not allow her inner thoughts to show on her face." Daphne grimaced briefly. "Certainly not an expression that reveals the slightest dissatisfaction with her lot in life."
Dean gave a little start of surprise. "Surely things are different now, with a new Minster and new faces in the Wizengamot...?"
"In public, perhaps. Within the families, attitudes, at least, are still very much the same."
"So, if I understand you correctly, in order for you to serve as my Muse, you need a husband," he said slowly.
"That's one solution, but even if I had any prospects in that area, I doubt that any husband that my parents would approve would be amenable to me acting as your Muse."
"Is your parents' approval necessary to your happiness?"
She laughed. "Quite the contrary."
"Then I have just the solution. We should get married."
"You and I?" At his solemn nod, she replied carefully, "Perhaps we should have a pre-engagement date."
It was Dean's turn to laugh. "All right. Are you hungry? You've got to be hungry, I've kept you posing for," he glanced at his watch, "three hours. Merlin, why didn't you say something, Daph? Is the Leaky Cauldron all right?"
She paused before answering. "You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"
"Muggle raised, at least. About a year ago I found out that my dad is really my step-dad. My biological father could have been a wizard, I don't know."
"Would you take me to a Muggle restaurant? I've never been to one."
"They're not very different from the wizarding sort, but I'll gladly take you wherever you want to go."
Daphne smiled and placed her hand in his. After lunch, they went back to his garret and she posed for him again, though not for as long this time. "I have to get back in time for tea," she apologised.
"Please consider my offer," he said earnestly.
"You cannot be serious."
"Serious as a Death Eater attack. No, listen," he said hastily when she would have protested. "You said yourself that my sketch of you was too good a likeness, that I was able to see underneath the mask you wear. I see a lot of things when I look at you. I see freedom from the roles we were born into. I see so much joy. I see our children and our grandchildren. Daphne, I see forever."
"I'll...I'll think on it." She didn't dare admit that when she looked in his eyes, she could see forever as well.
After that day, they met whenever she could sneak away from her stultifying daily grind. Somehow, those modelling sessions with Dean made the endless rounds of shopping, social calls, and tedious parties, both dinner and card, bearable. Daphne began to share her "little dreams", as she called them, for the things she wanted to experience and accomplish. Unlike her parents, Dean listened attentively and encouraged her ideas.
They didn't always stay at his garret, either. Daphne suggested they go into Muggle London to avoid running into anyone that might report back to her parents, and they spent many an afternoon in St. James and Green Parks. Sometimes she posed for him, sometimes they just enjoyed the sunshine and talked. Dean introduced her to the Muggle cinema, and took her to a performance of Romeo and Juliet at the Open Air Theatre.
Some three months after that evening in the artists' bar, at a quiet dinner in the Greengrass manor, Daphne's mother put down her fork and turned to her daughter. "Daphne, your father and I would like to talk to you about your future," she began diplomatically.
"High time you were married, girl," said her father gruffly.
"Yes, your father is quite correct, if a little brusque. Have you formed a particular attachment for any of the young men of your acquaintance?"
Daphne's pulse raced as she thought of Dean.
"You have! But this is wonderful. Who is it?"
Quickly schooling her features into neutrality, Daphne replied, "No one, Mother. I have no idea what you're talking about."
Her mother's mouth tightened in disapproval. "We are very concerned about this habit of yours, disappearing for hours at a time when no one knows where you are or what you're getting up to. Marriage will settle you. Your father and I have drawn up a list of men we think are suitable. It's in your room. Look it over and let us know which one you'd prefer."
Daphne rose slowly from her seat. "Mother, Father, please excuse me. I'm feeling unwell."
Her father waited until she'd made it to the door before saying in a menacing tone, "Make no mistake, girl, you will marry one of those men on that list. We are giving you leave to choose, but if you do not do so, one will be chosen for you."
"What's wrong?" Dean asked when she showed up the next day, bedraggled and soaked to the skin.
"Why have you never asked me to pose nude?"
He blinked in surprise. "I would never suggest anything so improper. Why? Did you want to pose nude?"
"Yes," she said decisively and started unbuttoning her robe.
"Daphne, wait." He stopped her before she shrugged her robe off. "Please tell me what's got you so upset."
"Oh, nothing," she said carelessly. "My parents informed me last night that I must choose a husband from their list of appropriately pureblooded wankers." Her voice broke on a sob, shattering her thin veneer of calm.
"I'm so sorry, Daph." He carefully wrapped his arms about her. She leaned into his warmth and let her tears flow. When her sobs finally faded to hiccoughs, he shifted his hold to her shoulders. "I'll get you a towel and something dry to wear."
In a few minutes, she was changing behind a screen while he put the kettle on.
"They can't force you to marry someone without resorting to an Unforgivable, can they?"
"There are ways," she replied darkly, "but they'll probably just threaten to throw me out of the house and cut off my allowance."
"'Hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,' is that it?" he said, quoting from the Bard's play.
"Precisely. What am I going to do, Dean?"
He handed her a cup of tea. "Take a page out of Juliet's book: go home and play the obedient daughter. Tell your parents that you're giving your decision all the consideration it merits. Then when you retire for the evening, pack a bag and come here. We'll catch the night train from Platform 7½ and be in Minsk by the day after tomorrow."
"That sounds wonderful," Daphne said as she smiled sadly.
"But?"
"But as soon as my father hears, he'll arrange for you to suffer a fatal accident."
"Daphne, my sweet Muse, I fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. Your father has nothing on murderous Death Eaters. Besides, your parents will very likely simply disown you."
"And then how will I live?" she practically wailed.
Dean hung his head. Sometimes, when he sold a painting or a sketch, the money was very good, but that didn't happen often. "I'll keep a roof over your head and food on the table, but you know, there is something to be said for earning your own money."
"I'll have you know I earn every Knut of my allowance," she replied indignantly.
"I'm sure you do," he soothed, "but wouldn't it be better to earn it by some other means than pretending to be someone you're not?"
"I don't know," she sighed, collapsing slowly into a nearby chair.
He sank to one knee in front of her and Summoned a small velvet bag. "Well, think on this." He tipped a sapphire and diamond ring out of the bag into his palm, extending it to her. "This was the ring my father gave my mother when he asked her to marry him. I'd be honoured if you'd wear it."
Daphne set aside her teacup and took the ring. "It's beautiful," she said softly, looking down at it. "Dean, I'm not some empty-headed pureblood miss. I know if we get married, I'll more than likely have to find a post somewhere to help keep the wolf from the door, and I'm willing to put forth my best efforts. Do you really think that you can handle my father? Because what I'm not willing to do is go down to the morgue at St. Mungo's to identify your mangled corpse."
"I'm sure. We'll throw a big reception when we get back. I'll make sure to invite Potter and Weasley. Pictures of us with them will be all over the front page of the Prophet. Your father will get the hint that we're well-connected and well protected." He paused. "Daphne, will you marry me?"
She nodded, tears spilling over her lashes. "Put this on me?" She handed the dainty ring back to him. "I want to wear it while I'm here, but I'll have to leave it with you when I go home."
He slid the ring on her third finger and then caught her up in his embrace, spilling her tea in the process. "Leave it," he said when she protested, and then he melded their mouths together.
Daphne didn't end up posing that day, though she stayed nearly two hours. When she left, she didn't go home right away, but went to visit her sister. Astoria's House-Elf, Domo, who had been a wedding gift from their parents, answered the door.
"Domo will tell Mistress that Miss has come to visit. If Miss will please be so good as to wait in the green drawing room...?" The elf gestured to and open door on his right.
Daphne took a seat in a spindly chair and waited. Astoria hurried in a few minutes later and Daphne jumped up to catch both of Astoria's hands in hers. "Dear sister, what brings you here on such a horrible day?" They kissed the air near each other's cheeks and sat down on the sofa.
"A horrible day is why, Tori, but you're looking exceedingly well. Married life agrees with you."
"Draco is...very attentive to my needs," Astoria said blushing slightly. "Mother and Father gave you their list, didn't they?"
"Why didn't you warn me?"
"They only asked me the other day if there were any names I thought should be added. I take it you're underwhelmed by their choices. I did suggest they should expand their horizons and include a few prominent half-bloods."
"Astoria, I'm not going to marry any of those men. More than one of them is Father's age or older! One is just out of Hogwarts."
"None of them? I thought some of them wouldn't have been too terrible, or, no!" Astoria gasped. "Daphne, you've fallen for someone not on the list! Don't try to deny it, I know all your tells. Who is it?"
Daphne sighed. This was why she came here, after all. "Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born artist that Draco and I went to school with."
"Not in Slytherin, then."
"No." She shook her head. "Gryffindor."
"I see your dilemma. What are you going to do?"
"He's asked me to run away to Minsk with him."
"How romantic," Astoria said with a gentle smile. "You know if you do, Father will have him killed and probably disown you, don't you?"
"Exactly what I told Dean. He has a plan to deal with that and I thought I should give you the opportunity to be involved."
"What makes you think I want to be involved in your runaway marriage?"
"I don't. In fact, I don't know that you won't scotch everything by sending Father an owl as soon as I leave here. I only know you might be hurt if we threw a big party and didn't ask you to be the hostess."
"Perhaps you'd better tell me more of your young man and this plan of his."
So Daphne described, and enthused, and explained for the next half-hour. When she was done, Astoria called for Domo.
The elf popped into existence. "Mistress has need of something?" he asked, bowing so low that his ears almost touched the carpet.
"Please bring the tea tray and ask Master Draco if he will join us here."
Draco appeared with flattering haste, Daphne thought, and he looked far happier than he had the entire time they had been at school.
"Daphne, what a pleasant surprise," he said, shaking her hand. "Has Astoria offered to show you the changes she's already made to the place?"
"We've had more pressing business to discuss, Draco," Astoria said, kissing his cheek and then retaking her seat. "Daphne has formed a connection that our parents would surely disapprove of, if they but knew of it."
"Oh?" Draco's expression was one of mild curiosity. Daphne wasn't sure if that was just a mask or if her former Housemate was that changed.
"Dean Thomas," Daphne supplied with a self-conscious shrug.
Draco smirked. "He managed to pull Potter's wife when she was still single. They dated for the better part of a year. He wasn't a bad Chaser, either. You could do worse."
"Daphne wants us to host her reception. She'll be leaving for Minsk..." Astoria tuned to her sister with a questioning look.
"Later tonight."
"Are you planning to honeymoon in Minsk, as well?" Draco asked.
"Does that mean you'll host our reception? Dean wants to invite Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and probably his Muggle family, and--"
Astoria took Daphne's hand. "Send us a list of everyone you want to invite. It's a little over two days from here to Minsk by train. Two days for your wedding and honeymoon gives us a week, unless you want me to be your Matron of Honour."
"Oh, Tori." Tears spilled from Daphne's lashes as she hugged her sister tightly.
"Ladies," interrupted Draco. "I will arrange for a Portkey to take Astoria to Minsk two mornings from today and return her home that evening."
Now it was Astoria's turn to shed a tear and embrace her husband. The touching scene was interrupted by Domo with the tea tray. They discussed the particulars and then Daphne left for home. Astoria had promised to Floo their parents and assure them that Daphne had come to ask her advice on future marriage plans.
The elder Greengrasses were far less disapproving when Daphne arrived and even granted her request to take her dinner on a tray in her room so that she might contemplate her choice in peace. Once alone, Daphne swiftly packed everything she owned in her trunk, saving out a week's worth of
clothes for travelling, and waited for her parents to go to bed. Then, hefting her valise and levitating her trunk behind her, she tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door without a backward glance.
"Any problems?" Dean asked when she arrived at his garret.
"None," she assured him. "I gave Astoria my vault key. She'll arrange it so my parents can't seize my funds in retaliation for us running away like this. She and Draco are going to host our reception as well. We have to draw up a guest list and get it to them as soon as possible."
Dean shook his head. "Hard to believe Draco Malfoy is going to welcome Muggles into his home. Generations of Malfoys must be spinning in their graves."
Daphne shrugged. "Astoria makes him happy, apparently. He wants to make her happy."
"Well, let's go." He tried to pick up her trunk. "Whoof. What did you pack in this?"
"Just leave it here, Dean. I've got everything I need in my valise."
"And is that heavy enough to be filled with bricks as well?" he teased.
"My trunk’s got everything I own that wasn't in my vault," she said simply. "I thought if I had to, I could sell my formal robes and jewellery."
"I won't let things get so bad that you have to sell your clothes," he said shocked.
"I won't need most of them anymore," Daphne insisted. "I promise I'll keep a few for when you have a show of your work. Where is my ring?"
"I have it here." He slid it back on her finger, and they walked out into their future together.
