Master of Death, Lover of Witches - 25 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me.

Chapter 25

~ Harry Potter ~The air inside the dining room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was thick with the rich scents of a decadent breakfast. It was the first of January, New Year’s Day, and the ancient Black ancestral home had never felt more alive—or more utterly debauched.Harry Potter sat at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, cradling a steaming mug of black coffee between his calloused hands. He was pleasantly exhausted, a satisfying ache radiating through his muscles. The events of the previous night—and the early hours of this very morning—had been a relentless, intoxicating marathon of carnal celebration. His physical frame, now taller and broader since the purging of the Horcrux from his scar, bore the faint red marks of fingernails along his shoulders and back and the scent of jasmine and vanilla clinging to his skin.Around the table, his women were gathered, each of them draped in various states of elegant dishevelled morning wear.Narcissa Black sat to his immediate right, her posture classically perfect despite the sleepy, thoroughly satisfied glow on her aristocratic face. She wore a sweeping robe of emerald silk, loosely tied at her waist, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the creamy swell of her breasts.

Beside her sat her sister, Andromeda Tonks, her dark eyes sparkling with a dry, knowing amusement as she watched the young Lord of the House attempt to blink the sleep from his green eyes.On Harry’s left, the Delacour women were a vision of ethereal beauty. Apolline Delacour, the mature, voluptuous Veela matriarch, was languidly spreading marmalade over a warm scone, her sheer periwinkle robe slipping off her shoulder to expose the soft, flushed skin of her collarbone. Her daughter, Fleur, sat close beside her, her silver-blonde hair falling in loose waves over her chest. She was wearing a silk negligee that did little to hide the proud, full curves of her breasts, her sapphire eyes locked onto Harry with a lazy, possessive heat.Bellatrix was practically vibrating with a restless, affectionate energy. She was sitting so close to Harry their shoulders brushed, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes wide and adoring as she watched him take a slow sip of his coffee.Near the grand hearth, a golden, ornate stand—which Fleur had conjured with a flick of her wand since his arrival—held their newest resident. Fawkes, the magnificent phoenix, was perched proudly, his crimson and gold feathers glowing with a soft, ambient warmth. He let out a low, musical trill, contentedly snapping up flame-roasted grapes and bits of bacon from a silver bowl the house-elves had prepared for him.Andromeda took a delicate sip of her tea, her lips curling into a sharp, cheeky smile as she looked across the table at Harry."I must say, Harry," Andromeda began, her voice dripping with sophisticated teasing, "the wards of the house were originally designed to withstand siege and invasions from the Ministry and Goblins who sought war. But I do not think my ancestors ever anticipated they would be tested against the sheer... passion... of the performances you and the girls displayed in the master suite throughout the night. The floorboards in the library were practically quaking. A word of advice, please put up silencing charms next time."A light, musical chuckle rippled through the dining room. Apolline let out a soft, smoky purr of agreement, her eyes twinkling with zero shame, while Narcissa offered a refined, elegant smile, completely unbothered by her sister’s teasing.Harry cleared his throat, a sudden, bright flush of red creeping up his neck as he stared down into his coffee mug. "The, uh... the wards are perfectly stable, Andi. No need to worry.""Oh, we are not worried, mon chéri," Fleur teased, leaning forward over the table, her heavy breasts pressing firmly against the edge, pushing them up invite-only for his eyes. "We are merely appreciating the stamina of our Lord. It is a very reassuring trait in a leader, non?"Before the bickering could devolve further into the details of their morning activities, the double doors of the kitchen creaked open.Dobby and Kreacher scurried into the room, their arms laden with fresh platters of sizzling bacon, poached eggs, and warm, crusty baguettes. Winky followed closely behind, her large, tennis-ball eyes bright with pride as she levitated a fresh pot of coffee toward Harry's cup. The house-elves had taken to the new, bustling dynamic of the household with a frantic, joyful enthusiasm. Kreacher, in particular, looked a decade younger, his chest puffed out as he wore a clean towel bearing the combined Potter and Black family crests.Harry took a deep, steadying breath, letting the domestic warmth of the room ground him. He set his mug down, his expression turning serious as his emerald eyes swept over the women at the table."I wanted to bring up something important," Harry said, his voice dropping to a steady, commanding register that instantly quieted the light-hearted banter. "Daphne. She’s awake, and she’s out of immediate danger. I plan on bringing her down into the drawing room and bringing her into the fold today."The atmosphere around the table shifted, the playful sensuality giving way to the sharp, calculating focus expected of the mistresses of Harry Potter."I'm open to suggestions on how we should approach this," Harry continued, resting his forearms on the table. "She’s been through hell in that Nott dungeon. Her family’s neutral status didn't save her, and her father’s wealth has probably been completely seized. She’s traumatized, but she’s also a Slytherin. She’s going to be hyper-vigilant, looking for the angle."Narcissa leaned forward, her grey eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she smoothed the front of her emerald robe. "She is Alaric Greengrass's daughter, Harry. The Greengrass family has survived for generations by being cold, calculating, and ruthless. If you approach her with pity, she will hate you for it. If you approach her with soft words, she will assume you are trying to manipulate her. She needs to see the ledger. She needs to know exactly what her options are, and what security you are offering her.""I agree," Andromeda nodded, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. "But we must also remember the legality of the situation. The marriage contract between the House of Black and the House of Greengrass is still valid, Harry. In the eyes of the magic, and what remains of the Wizengamot, she is legally bound to this house for her own survival. But if you force the contract on her now, while she is still healing, she will view this place as just another dungeon. Only with softer sheets."Bellatrix let out a soft, vicious growl, her dark curls bouncing as she shook her head. "Why must we overcomplicate everything? She is a pureblood daughter! She knows the way of the world. Just let me go up there, my Lord. I can show her my mind, let her feel how your magic broke my chains and set me free. Once she sees how you command us, how our bodies sing when you touch us, she will fall to her knees and beg to be claimed!""Absolutely not, Bella," Harry vetoed immediately, shooting her a stern look. "I've already told you, the last thing she needs to see when she opens her eyes is the most feared lieutenant of the Dark Lord standing over her bed. We are trying to heal her, not scare her to death."Bellatrix pouted, sinking back into her chair with a theatrical sigh, though her eyes remained locked onto him with that intense devotion she had developed since her mind was freed.Apolline swirled her wine, her expression thoughtful. "A woman who has been broken in the dark, 'Arry, she does not need more strategies. She needs to feel the warmth of the sun. Our Veela magic... it is very good at soothing the frazzled nerves. Let her come down, let her breathe the air of this house, and let her feel your core. Your magic is incredibly stabilizing now. She will naturally gravitate toward you because her own core is screaming for an anchor."Andromeda looked at Harry, a wise, maternal smile gracing her features. "You are all overthinking this. She is a clever girl, and she is terrified. If you try to strategize, or seduce her, or force contracts, she will retreat behind her walls, her infamous 'Ice Queen' persona taking over as you tell us. Just bring the girl down, Harry. Let her look around this room. Let her see Narcissa, the Delacours, and yes, even Bellatrix. Let her investigate the house for herself, let her ask her questions, and then... let her decide. Show her she has a choice. That is the one thing the Death Eaters never gave her."Harry stared at Andromeda for a moment, the wisdom of her words ringing perfectly true.

It was the simplest, most honest approach. No games, no pureblood politics.

Just the truth."You're right," Harry said, nodding. "We'll do exactly that."He turned his head toward the small house-elf waiting near the sideboard. "Winky.""Yes, Master Harry!" Winky squeaked, popping to his side in an instant, her ears flapping with excitement."Go up to Daphne's room," Harry instructed gently. "Inform her that I will be up to see her in a few moments. Tell her she doesn't need to rush, but I want to make sure I don't catch her indecently. I want to give her time to prepare.""Winky is going right now, Master Harry!" the little elf said, vanishing with a soft pop.Harry pushed his chair back, preparing to stand, when Fleur let out a sudden, loud, and incredibly theatrical gasp."A gentleman?" Fleur teased, her sapphire eyes sparkling with a wicked, thoroughly scandalous mischief. She leaned over the table, her voice dropping to a stage whisper that carried perfectly to every corner of the room. "Look at him, Maman! Look at our Lord acting so polite and proper now, wanting to be so careful not to catch a girl indecently... when just this morning, he had his fingers tangled in my hair, holding my head down and forcing me to drink his warm cum straight out of your own mother's cunt!"The silence that followed was a glorious, suspended second of absolute shock.Harry froze, his half-risen body hovering over his chair. He felt the blood instantly drain from his face, only to rush back in a wave of embarrassment that covered his cheeks, his ears, and his neck. He coughed, choking slightly on his own saliva, his eyes wide behind his glasses.The dining room erupted into a chorus of unbridled, joyous laughter.Apolline let out a rich, throaty laugh, taking a slow sip of her tea with a completely unbothered, deeply amused smirk playing on her lips. Narcissa let out a sophisticated chuckle, her shoulders shaking slightly as she watched the young Lord of the House choke on his own saliva under the teasing of the French girl.But it was Bellatrix who made the most noise. She threw her head back, her wild dark curls flying, her loud, maniacal cackle ringing out through the rafters as she slapped the table."Oh, my Lord!" Bellatrix gasped through her laughter, her eyes watering. "You should see your face! You are a king who fights dark lords, yet a little talk of where you put your seed makes you blush like a schoolboy!""It was... it was a magical stabilization technique," Harry stammered, his hand rubbing his temples as he desperately tried to regain his composure, though the roaring laughter of his women made it entirely impossible.Fleur simply blew him a kiss, her eyes dancing with a triumphant, possessive heat. "And it worked beautifully, mon ange. Your magic feels very... stable. Now go. The 'gentleman' must not keep his guest waiting."Harry shook his head, a helpless, embarrassed smile finally breaking through his blush. He turned and walked out of the dining room, the warm, joyful sounds of his unconventional family’s laughter following him down the corridor as the heavy oak doors swung shut.

~ Harry Potter ~Harry walked up the grand, winding staircase of Grimmauld Place, the cool stone of the steps a welcome relief to the heat settled in his body. With every step he took, he felt the walls of the Black family hum in recognition of his blood and magic, a feeling he had become used to. A feeling that brought home a sense of comfort.He reached the guest wing on the second floor, his steps slowing as he approached the door to Daphne’s room. He took a deep, steadying breath, centring his mind before knocking twice.He pushed the door open.Daphne Greengrass was sitting upright in the massive four-poster bed. She had changed out of the garments Apolline had changed her into, now dressed in a pair of simple, soft silk pyjamas that Narcissa had sent over via Winky. Her body was still bandaged in places—neat, clean linen wraps securing the still healing lacerations on her arms and the deep, mended wound on her side where the a curse had torn her muscle.Yet, regardless of the bandages, the pale exhaustion clinging to her features, and the sheer trauma she had survived, she looked absolutely breathtaking.The morning light from the window caught the spun-gold of her hair, making it shimmer like a halo around her delicate, sharp features. Her skin, though pale, had regained its flushed, porcelain quality, and her icy blue eyes were sharp, holding a quiet, unbreakable dignity. If Harry did not know any better, he would have easily mistaken her for a Veela. She possessed that same ethereal, untouchable beauty that seemed to command the very air in the room.Daphne’s eyes snapped to his as he entered. A small, dry smirk touched her pale lips."Potter," she said, her voice still holding a trace of raspy roughness, but carrying that familiar haughtiness that she had wielded like a weapon in the Slytherin common room and throughout their years at Hogwarts. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten about your prisoner."Harry smiled, walking into the room and stopping a few feet from the bed. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes carrying a warm, playful amusement. "If you were my prisoner, Daphne, the sheets would be far less comfortable, and Narcissa wouldn't have let you borrow her finest silk. You look... incredible. Honestly. If I didn't know who you were Greengrass, I'd ask Apolline if she had a third daughter she forgot to mention."Daphne’s smirk widened, a faint, lovely rose colour touching her high cheekbones at the compliment, though she quickly masked it behind a haughty tilt of her chin. "Flattery, Potter? Careful, people might think the saviour of the wizarding world is trying to seduce a helpless, wounded girl.""Helpless?" Harry raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. "I've seen your school records, Daphne. I don't think there's a single helpless bone in your body. Even bandaged up, you look like you're ready to hex me if I say the wrong thing.""Only if you deserve it," she retorted, her blue eyes shining with a quiet, appreciative warmth. She shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at the healing muscles of her side, but she refused to let the weakness show. "Though I suppose... since you did pull me out of a dungeon and slaughter my tormentors, I can afford to be slightly lenient today."Harry’s expression softened, the banter receding to make way for the quiet, steady protector persona. He walked to the edge of the bed and extended his right hand toward her. The heavy, ornate rings of Potter and Black glinted on his fingers, catching an appreciative glance of Daphne's eyes."You don't need to walk all the way down," Harry said gently. "The stairs in this house are a nightmare even when you aren't recovering from Cruciatus spasms. Take my hand."Daphne stared at his hand for a long, silent moment. She looked at the scars mapping his skin, the thick, heavy metal of his lordship rings, and the absolute, unyielding security his presence offered.

Slowly, gingerly, she reached out.

Her pale, delicate fingers slid into his palm, her skin cool and soft against his calloused grip.The moment their skin met, a sudden, warm jolt of his magic flowed through the connection, a gentle, soothing pulse that instantly quieted the faint, persistent trembling in her fingers. Daphne’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching as she felt the comforting depth of his magical core.Harry didn't let go. He closed his eyes for a split second, focusing his intent, and let out a low, sharp whistle.With a sudden, brilliant flash of golden-red fire that filled the room with a brief, comforting rush of warmth, Fawkes materialized. The magnificent phoenix hovered in the air above them for a heartbeat before descending, his golden talons gently grasping Harry's shoulder.Before Daphne could even gasp, the world dissolved.A silent, swirling vortex of heat and flame enveloped them. It didn't burn; it felt like a warm, thick blanket wrapping around their bodies, pulling them through the fabric of space.A fraction of a second later, the flames collapsed inward with a soft pop, depositing them gently onto the thick, plush carpet directly outside the heavy double doors of the grand drawing room.Daphne stumbled slightly as her feet touched the solid floor, her grip on Harry’s hand tightening instinctively. She blinked rapidly, her head spinning from the sudden, instantaneous travel. She looked up at the majestic bird still perched on Harry’s shoulder, her pale blue eyes wide with absolute shock."Is... isn't that Albus Dumbledore’s familiar?" Daphne gasped, her voice trembling as she stared at the phoenix. "Didn't he vanish after his death?"Harry smiled, reaching up with his free hand to gently stroke the soft, fiery feathers of Fawkes's chest. The bird let out a low, content warble, leaning into the touch."He did," Harry nodded, his eyes locked onto hers. "But Fawkes found me a few hours before I found you in that dungeon. I was in Godric's Hollow, fighting Voldemort. The bastard had set a trap for me, and his snake... Nagini... she had me pinned, her venom burning through my leg. Fawkes flamed in, burned the snake to ash, and saved my life. He chose to bond with me after that."Daphne’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath completely catching in her throat. She stared at him as if he were a completely different species of wizard. To face the Dark Lord, destroy his familiar, and be chosen by the most ancient creature of light in Britain that had followed, possibly, the strongest wizard in the history of modern Britain..."You... you are full of surprises, Potter," she whispered, her voice laced with a profound, bewildered awe.Harry let out a soft chuckle, his green eyes sparkling. "Harry. Please. We're past the point of last names, don't you think?"Daphne’s lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, the icy barrier around her heart thawing further. "Harry," she corrected herself, the name sounding incredibly sweet on her tongue.Harry's expression turned serious, his hand gently squeezing hers to ground her. He looked at the heavy mahogany doors of the drawing room. "I want to warn you, Daphne. Everyone is inside. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, or if the noise or the people are too much for you, just tell me. I’ll take you right back up to your room. No questions asked. You are safe here."Daphne took a deep, steadying breath, her chin lifting with that quiet, pureblood determination. "I am ready, Harry. Lead the way."Harry smiled, his heart swelling with a quiet pride. He reached out with his left hand, turning the heavy brass handle, and pushed the double doors of the grand drawing room wide open.

~ Daphne Greengrass ~The drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was a vast, opulent space that Narcissa had made sure radiated the wealth and power of the House of Black. A massive fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering orange glow across the dark wood panelling and the plush, crimson carpets.As the doors swung open, the conversation inside died instantly.Daphne stepped over the threshold, her hand still clasped firmly in Harry’s. Her pale blue eyes immediately began to scan the room, her training analysing the occupants with rapid precision.Her eyes landed first on the two Veela women seated near the grand piano."Daphne," Harry began, his voice calm and guiding. "I’d like to introduce you to the Delacours. This is Apolline, the incredibly talented woman who was in charge of mending your wounds."Apolline offered a warm, incredibly elegant smile, tilting her head in a polite, respectful greeting. "It eez a pleasure to see you on your feet, ma chérie.""And her daughter, Fleur," Harry continued, his eyes twinkling. "I believe you two met years ago during the Triwizard Tournament."Fleur stepped forward, her silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She offered a soft, genuine smile, her sapphire eyes warm. "Welcome to our home, Daphne. You look much better today."Daphne offered them a polite, reserved nod, her mask fully intact, though her mind was silently reeling at the overwhelming beauty concentrated in this single room."And here," Harry said, guiding her further into the room, "is Andromeda."Andromeda Tonks stood up from her armchair, her warm, dark eyes holding a deep, maternal empathy as she looked at the healing girl. She offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Daphne. You are among friends here."Next, Harry turned toward the hearth, where Narcissa sat. "And Narcissa."Narcissa Black rose from her seat with a fluid grace that was the epitome of pureblood perfection. Her cool grey eyes swept over Daphne, holding no hostility, only a quiet, understanding respect. "It is good to see you recovering, Miss Greengrass. Your father is a man of great integrity, and we are glad to have his daughter safe under our roof."Daphne’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze lingering on Narcissa. The fall of Lucius Malfoy's standing in the elite circles of British nobility, the defection of the wife of the man who had kept the Minister in the pocket for years, had shocked pureblood society when Skeeter's story had been published... it was one thing to hear whispers, but to see her standing here, relaxed and serving Harry Potter, was a staggering reality.But then, Daphne’s eyes drifted past Narcissa, landing on the final occupant of the room.Lounging with a lazy, cat-like posture on a plush, dark velvet couch near the corner of the hearth was a woman. She had her head tilted back, her pale skin glowing in the firelight, her wild, chaotic black curls splaying over the cushions.Bellatrix Black.The moment Daphne’s eyes registered the wild curls, the heavy-lidded dark eyes, and the terrifying, infamous silhouette of the Dark Lord’s most lethal executioner, her entire body went completely, utterly rigid.A suffocating wave of pure, unadulterated terror crashed over Daphne’s mind, shattering her Slytherin composure into a million jagged shards. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, and her breath caught violently in her throat.With an instinctive, frantic panic, her entire body seized up, and she clutched Harry’s hand with a sudden force, her fingernails nearly digging through his skin as she tried to pull herself behind his broad frame. She was trembling violently, her eyes wide with a horrific, paralyzing fear as she stared at the monster the Dark Lord had trained.Harry reacted instantly. He didn't pull away. He stepped closer, his body forming an solid, protective shield between Daphne and the couch. He wrapped his other hand over hers, stroking the back of her cold, shaking hand with his thumb, his magic flaring in a warm, incredibly soothing pulse that wrapped around her like a thick blanket."Easy, Daphne," Harry whispered, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the roaring panic in her ears. "Breathe. I promise you, you are completely safe. Look at me. Look at my eyes."Daphne shot him a wild, utterly incredulous look, her chest heaving as she struggled for air, her lips trembling. "S-safe?" she stammered, her voice a fragile, broken gasp. "Harry... that is... that is Bellatrix Lestrange! She is... she is his right hand! She killed... she tortured... how can I be safe with her in the room?!""Because she isn't his right hand anymore, Daphne," Harry explained, his voice calm, projecting an absolute, unshakable certainty. "The woman sitting on that couch is not the monster who served Voldemort. She is free."Bellatrix sat up slowly, her movements completely devoid of the twitching, manic violence that had once defined her. She looked at Daphne with a gaze that was soft, quiet, and deeply apologetic, her hands resting meekly in her lap."My Lord speaks the truth, little snake," Bellatrix said, her voice quiet, carrying a raspy, mature softness that sounded entirely human, something completely unlike Bellatrix. "I am Bellatrix Black. The Dark Lord is... he is no longer my master. I am so sorry for the terror my name brings you."Daphne’s jumbled, frantic questions began to spill out of her mouth, the words tripping over one another in her sheer confusion. "How... how is she here? How is she sane? The Ministry... Azkaban... the Dark Lord... Harry, what did you do?""Sit down, Daphne," Harry said gently, guiding her to a soft, cushioned armchair near the fire, keeping his hand wrapped securely in hers until she was settled. "Let me explain."Harry sat on the armrest of her chair, his presence a comforting, defensive barrier. He looked at Bellatrix, and then back to Daphne’s pale, wide eyes."Voldemort did not just recruit Bellatrix when she was young, Daphne," Harry began, his voice dropping to a gravelly, serious tone. "He was paranoid. He wanted absolute, unquestioning loyalty. So, he used a piece of ancient, horrific dark magic on her, her family playing a vital role in her enslavement. It was a soul-graft. He forced a fragment of his own mutilated soul into her mind, binding her magic and her sanity completely to his will."Daphne’s eyes widened, her brilliant mind instantly analysing the magical implications of what he was describing. "A soul-graft... it would act as a permanent, parasitic compulsion. It would drive the host mad as their own soul tried to reject the foreign magic.""Exactly," Harry nodded. "The Bellatrix the world feared for twenty years was nothing more than a possessed, broken puppet. When she came after Andromeda, I had been lucky enough to stumble on it. I defeated and disarmed her. I brought her here, to the ritual dungeons beneath this house. And with the help of Narcissa, Andromeda, and the Delacours, I broke the bond."Harry’s green eyes flashed with a dark, triumphant fire. "I entered her mind, I fought the parasite, and I dragged Voldemort's soul-shard out of her, burning it to absolute ash. I freed her, Daphne. And when her magic was collapsing from the shock, I poured my own core into her to save her life."He looked at Bellatrix, who offered a small, adoring smile. "She is sane now. The madness is gone. She is a daughter of the House of Black, and she has pledged her life and her loyalty entirely to me."Daphne sat in silence, her mind spinning as she processed the sheer scale of what Harry had accomplished. He hadn't just defeated Voldemort’s right hand; he had redeemed her. He had cured the most famous, insane, maniacal witch in the wizarding world.She looked at Bellatrix, seeing the quiet, submissive posture, the complete absence of the manic, twitching bloodlust. The fear in Daphne’s chest didn't vanish completely—decades of terrifying reputation could not be erased in a single conversation—but the paralyzing panic slowly receded, replaced by a wary intrigue."You... you are a madman, Harry Potter," Daphne whispered, a faint, disbelieving chuckle escaping her lips. "To enter the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange and fight the Dark Lord’s soul... it is a wonder you are still breathing.""I've been told I have a remarkably thick skull," Harry teased, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away as he saw her relax.They sat by the fire, the conversation slowly transitioning into a quieter, more casual rhythm. The Delacour women offered gentle, comforting words, their soothing allure filling the room with a warm, relaxing energy that helped ease the residual tremors in Daphne’s limbs, along with Harry's magic. Andromeda spoke of the history of the house, and Narcissa discussed the way she was running the house, showing Daphne that she was completely, unconditionally secure, with Bellatrix occasionally chirping about how she would mutilate anyone who dared to invade their home.Daphne listened, her mind absorbing every detail, realizing with a slow, creeping warmth that she had been brought not just into a safe house, but into a fortress of absolute, unyielding power.Narcissa Malfoy, who had been watching Daphne with a calm intensity, set her teacup down with a soft, definitive click against the saucer. She leaned forward in her high-backed chair, her eyes locking onto the young Slytherin girl with utmost focus and a little bit of mischief as she decided to cut straight to the point and breach the topic that her lord would definitely take too long to bring up, even if the girl was to be one of his wives if he so willed. "So, Heiress Greengrass," Narcissa began, Daphne instantly straightening up at being addressed by her official title, even if her family had lost a chunk of what belonged to them, they still held and retained their noble status, and as such, she would follow the etiquettes that had been ingrained in her since childhood. "What do you know about covens?" Daphne, not understanding where the sudden line of thought entered their conversation, could only look at the woman in front of her with a blank face and a single sound popped out of her. "Huh?"