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With a sigh, Ginny settled behind the table, a cup of coffee in her hands. One glance at a towering stack of various papers and letters - ignored for days - was enough to make anyone stall for a little longer. She glanced over her shoulder longingly. Her current lover was still soundly asleep, and - if she were honest, at least with herself - she would much rather join him.
Shaking her head, she brushed the cowardly wish aside and began working. Soon, she fell into a bitterly familiar pace of placing anything remotely important aside while everything else went straight into the nearest fireplace to serve as kindling. Occasionally, she stopped briefly to take a sip of coffee or to read through the missive with a frown before deciding where to put it, sighing each time at having to work through it all to begin with.
It wasn’t the life she had imagined. Truthfully, things hadn’t even remotely turned out as she had once hoped. She had comfortable savings, a passive flow of galleons from her brothers’ shop and countless lovers willing to spend a night - or more - by her side. And yet, it still wasn’t it.
Right after the war, it had been hard to tell what to do next. Although the role she had played had been rather minor, it still had been heavy, especially after the death of Fred, and the last thing she had wanted was to return to the school that had brought her so much pain over the years. So she hadn’t. After donating her war reward to George for his shop, having one last explosive argument with her parents and cutting ties, Ginny gladly accepted one of the offers for a place on a professional Quidditch team. A decade and a half of playing games with her brothers and her natural talent had quickly secured her a comfortable position as a Seeker. For years, it had been a life of prestige. A life of travelling, fame, adoration and comfortable income. With a little tutoring from goblins, Ginny had built a rather lucrative cushion. George regularly adding to her savings, as gratitude for her help with the funding, only benefited her.
It would have continued the same had it not been for an injury. During one of the matches, Ginny had caught a bludger with her dominant hand, breaking it in several places. The bones had been regrown, but due to her personal resistance to the potion, they had mended incorrectly, forever limiting her range of movement and ending her career. Her severance had been more than generous, but it hadn’t been enough.
Ever since then, she kept drifting. Her fame gradually faded; the savings she could comfortably live on well into her elderly years, too, hardly brought her any pleasure. Her life was bleak, and even her occasional flings had long gotten boring. She yearned for more . Long for the life she had dreamed of as a child. Where was her prince, her recognition? Her wealth? Nowhere, and what little she had was nothing more than a shade of the grandeur she had always hoped for.
She picked another parchment, shaking her head. Blue eyes absentmindedly read through the lines, and Ginny had almost placed it away when she read the last paragraph. Interest lit up in her gaze. Quickly sorting through the rest of the pile, the young woman found another scroll, this one much more promising.
For several minutes, she studied the papers. As she continued to read and scheme, a smirk curled on her lips. Reaching the end, she took a moment to think things through once more and, finding no issues, summoned a clean piece of parchment as well as an inkwell and a quill. A few confident movements, and in front of her lay a draft letter to her account manager.
Perhaps, her dreams were not as lost as she had thought.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The air was thick with tension. Harald paced across the room like a caged animal, clenching and unclenching his fists, muttering curses under his breath. Lucius sat on one of the armchairs, frowning thoughtfully while Severus appeared eerily calm about the entire ordeal.
The source of the commotion turned out to be an innocent-looking letter laying on the table. Inside was one of the worst contracts either of them had seen in their entire lives.
Receiving proposals for courting, betrothal or both was a long-standing routine. Right after the end of the war, it had been a never-ending nightmare of owls and missives that had managed to find them even through the thickest mail wards the three of them could cast. Thankfully, it had mellowed out with time but never ceased fully despite everyone knowing they were happily bonded. What bonding? One could always become a lover, perhaps, a concubine. Few would pass up a chance to get closer to such prominent figures, their power and success. If it had to be done through potions, then so be it.
This contract was anything but usual. It wasn’t soaked in Compulsion spells and potions one could expect. No, its vileness was hidden in its terms. Behind beautiful wording hid a truly disgusting gut - Harald’s property, money, titles and power would go to his wife while he would be reduced to nothing more than a glorified yet voiceless wallet for her to use as she wished.
“Remind me again why can’t we just get rid of her?” Harald asked not for the first time in the last half an hour. “The altar would happily enjoy the offering.”
“And the Ministry would like a reason to label you a Dark Lord,” Severus replied evenly yet again, somehow managing to remain entirely unfazed. “You might seek to experience Azkaban, but I would much rather stay as far away as possible.”
“They’d have to catch me first,” Harald returned swiftly. Stopping, the young man fell on the couch, running his hands down his face. A few moments passed. Then, Harald suddenly straightened. “Ginny owes me two life-debts,” he pointed out. “Would that help?”
Lucius sighed. “Pray tell, why do you never share things as important as this with us?”
Harald shrugged. “Because I never thought it would come down to this? It has been five years since I’ve last seen or talked to either of them . How could I know Ginny would dig up some half-forgotten contract?”
“And that is precisely why you aren’t a Slytherin. I will give you praise where it is due - some wouldn’t have thought to bring it up at all,” Severus said, rolling his eyes, but didn’t take it further. “Regardless, the solution is fairly straightforward, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Lucius reassured, a menacing smirk curling on his lips. “And I know exactly how to twist things to our benefit.”
Harald leaned forward, listening curiously. The more Lucius explained, the more he liked the overall idea. Halfway through he stopped the man, summoned a quill and a spare piece of parchment and began drafting as Lucius went on. Severus quickly moved by his side, reading through the text, occasionally offering a quiet correction to the wording.
Once they figured out all the details, Harald passed the draft to Lucius for inspection.
“Good job, gentlemen,” Lucius said a few moments later, rolling it up. “I’ll run it past our account manager, and then can invite Miss Weasley for a chat.”
The three of them shared conspiratorial looks, grinning sharply. Ginny had absolutely no idea what was coming her way.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Ginny arrived sharply on time, dressed in a flattering gown with a gentle, non-threatening expression. Had she not tried that stunt with the contract, Harald might have even believed the façade.
They exchanged expected pleasantries, and Harald led her inside, walking them straight to his office. All her attempts at conversation were met with his stoic silence.
All throughout their, admittedly, short walk, Ginny kept looking around at her surroundings. Judging by her poorly hidden grimace of disgust, the modest cottage was hardly to her taste. If he had to guess, she would have likely expected a marble manor most aristocrats had or, at the very least, a stone house. Of course, she hadn’t been aware that Potters despised marble and all the extravagant wealth that came to mind when one heard the word ‘aristocracy.’ For generations, his family favoured wooden and stone houses, opting for something simple but practical, so when the time had come for him to rebuild the Potter ancestral nest, Harald happily obliged the harmless tradition. The magical forest around the house was just a pleasant bonus.
In the office, Harald took his place at the table, offering Ginny a seat with a sharp gesture. She huffed at subtle rudeness but obliged, settling into the armchair with unexpected gracefulness.
“I’ve reviewed the contract,” Harald began right away , not bothering with pleasantries or beverages. “For several reasons, it doesn’t work for me , thus, I have a counteroffer.”
He waved his hand, summoned another parchment and levitated it to her. Ginny almost snatched it out of the air, opening and reading through it. Immediately, though, her face shifted. Eagerness slowly morphed into surprise, then confusion and then anger. Harald had never thought it could be so pleasant to watch someone’s plan come crashing down. Perhaps Slytherins were onto something.
“What is this?” Ginny asked, wrinkling her nose. “This… this is so humiliating. How could you have even managed to come up with something so disgusting?”
Harald leaned back in his seat. “I used nothing more than a standard bearing contract,” he said, a small smirk on his lips. “Truthfully, you ought to be thankful it is so soft.”
“Our contract was fine. Who in their right mind would suggest something so vile?”
“Trust me, the ideas my partners came up with are worse than anything you can possibly come up with. They were quite upset that someone was trying to take what belonged to them.”
A beat passed between them. Ginny started at him, slack-jawed and startled, seemingly unable to believe he would get someone. Then, as the words finally registered, the witch jumped to her feet, angry as a valkyrie.
“How dare you?!” she demanded sharply, her blue eyes flashing in indignation. “The contract -”
“Is nothing more than a piece of toilet paper you can use to wipe yourself with,” Harald interrupted, cutting her off. His magic pressed on the witch, forcing her to stumble back into the armchair, to submit despite - admittedly - righteous anger. “The contract clearly states that one of the sides can request a change to the contract should they have valid arguments against it. It just so happens that I dislike it dearly.”
“What can you possibly dislike?” she hissed, though with much less heat than before.
Harald merely arched an eyebrow at that, not bothering to reply. Truthfully, there was but a single line in the entire contract that he liked and was happy to use . Why on earth his parents had thought this contract to be the best option for him , he would never know but could easily guess. Likely, it was thanks to the same man who had convinced them to live in a hunting house instead of an unplottable manor. Or who had given them just a fraction of Fidelius’ true properties.
James and Lily Potter were hardly on Harald’s list of favourite people, not in the least due to their loyalty to Dumbledore. Another lay right before him on his table.
“Let me make something straight,” the wizard explained slowly when Ginny didn’t speak up. “You owe me several life-debts. I happen to dislike your proposition and have a counteroffer. Normally, you’d have a choice. But you owe me. So if you wish to retain your magic and a semblance of autonomy, you will sign this contract, fulfil it to my and my partners’ content and be free to do whatever you wish with your life.”
Ginny sobbed pitifully and dropped her head in what looked like defeat. Harald might have even believed her to a degree. But, thanks to his husbands’ teaching, he didn’t hurry to let her go.
“But I love you, Harry,” the witch tried. She raised her puffy eyes, tears streaming openly down her cheeks, her lower lip wobbling.
Harald leaned over the table menacingly.
“If you loved me, Weasley,” he said crisply, ignoring her flinch at the mention of the surname, “you would have never tried to enslave me with this farce of a contract. You have made your bed well before coming here. Now it's time to lie in it.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, both just staring at each other. While Harald remained cold and impassive, Ginny grew furious. Her tears stopped, and her gaze cleared. A tiny flame grew in those blue eyes, easily turning the mild annoyance into undiluted hatred.
A pop echoed in the tense silence. Both immediately looked at the house-elf , one with a question, the other with genuine disdain.
“Mistress Hermione asks when you will be done,” the little elf chirped brightly. “She wishes to see you.”
“What does she want now?” Harald asked with a tint of exasperation. “I’ve left them my notes and conclusions. It should have given me,” he glanced at the clock, “at least another hour.”
“She claims to have found a mistake in your calculations, Master!” the elf replied eagerly. “Master Severus disagrees with her but can’t explain it because he doesn’t understand anything in that mess you call notes, Master.”
“Snape?!” Ginny shrieked, her restraint finally breaking. She tried to lunge across the table at him but was pulled back by an invisible rope.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Harald said coldly, enunciating every word. She opened her mouth to say something else, at which he only snapped his fingers, forcing the witch into silence.
“Don’t force me to order you to sign,” he warned. “ Otherwise, not only will you fulfil my demands, but also become a slave to me and my house. I want it no better than you.”
That finally seemed to have an effect on her. Although Ginny didn’t go to sign the paperwork, she remained still in her seat, staring at a wall on her right. Thankfully, in complete silence.
“Merlin knows I’m tired of this,” Harald sighed, massaging his temples. He turned to the elf and ordered, “Show Severus a stack marked blue , it’s in one of the desk drawers , that would be a clearer version I’ve written just for him and the Guild. Has Lucius returned yet?”
The house-elf nodded enthusiastically. “Master Lucius is on the back veranda sorting through some papers.”
“Finally. Once you’re done upstairs, let him know I’ll come in a few minutes. I need a break.”
“Anything else, Master?”
“That would be all, thanks, Tilly.”
The elf squeaked out his thanks and disappeared with another pop. Harald listened carefully to the sounds of the house and shook his head fondly as the argument upstairs resumed once again, twice as heated.
Sighing, the wizard turned back to the witch. Ginny stubbornly refused to meet his eye, pretending to be both humiliated and insulted by the treatment. He only snorted. If only she knew it was but a fraction of what one in his place could have legally done to her. It would’ve been amusing to see her face then.
“Now you,” Harald said, leaning on the table, his green eyes hard as stone. “I don’t care if you believe yourself somehow wronged because you weren’t. You have until ten to sign this willingly. Otherwise, I will order you, and you’ll lose everything. Have I made myself clear?”
She didn’t react, only raising her chin defiantly.
Harald only shrugged and left the room, heading to his other husband. Come nighttime, they would have a bearer for their children. Whether or not it would be a slave or a witch mattered little - the ritual would take place either way.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
When the wizard peeked into the office shortly before dinner, Ginny was still sitting in that armchair, her back as straight as a pole, unbelievably proud and stubborn like the rest of her family.
He hadn’t bothered talking to her, merely closing the door and leaving to join the rest of his family. What was there to talk about? No Weasley ever gave up if they believed themselves right. He had seen the same in Artur and Molly, who had refused to apologise for the sins of Arthur’s ancestors, even if it meant a life of financial and magical poverty. Ron , who had promised never to contact Harald and Hermione and had been keeping the promise even after the war, after their story had become public. Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins, all of whom stubbornly worked towards their dreams. And he was seeing the same in Ginny. Too bad her conviction mirrored Ron’s and their parents’ rather than the dreams of her brothers.
Years ago, such fire and stubbornness might have been enticing. Perhaps in another reality, Harald and she could have ended up together anyway, without any contracts and arguments, just because they loved each other. Perhaps he might have still been welcomed at the Burrow. But in this reality, he had others to call his own. And, regardless of what Ginny wished, she wasn’t on that list.
Hermione and Draco stopped him shortly after dinner, asking to talk to the girl. He easily obliged, knowing it would hardly hurt. An hour later, they returned - Hermione was disappointed and Draco was outright angry, cursing Weasley under his breath. Harald hadn’t even asked what had happened. He could tell very well on his own.
Unsurprisingly, Ginny hadn’t signed the contract , she simply couldn’t. Too far she had already gone to turn around , all the bridges had been burnt. In any other situation, such awareness could have been commendable.
A sharp order with a touch of Harald’s overwhelming power, and the needed signature appeared on his contract. Ginny tried to fight but was quickly put in her place. After his victory over the Dark Lord, few managed against Harald’s suffocating strength, and all of them lived in that house.
Several weeks later, they performed the needed ritual. All attempts to awaken his conscience, to plead her case and to make him refuse to participate in a ritual that even the previous government had classified as dark fell on deaf ears. They went through with it, and the ceremony was successful. From the first try, Ginny fell pregnant, carrying, as it turned out later, a pair of twins. A flash of pride had tried to take root in her gaze but was immediately shot down by Severus’ cold words.
“Do not take this achievement, Ginerva,” Severus informed her one evening, his black eyes bright with satisfaction. “These children are hardly your merit. No, they are the result of my and my partners’ strength and will have no connection to the bearer. You are merely a convenient vessel.”
“You cannot do this. All rituals -” she genuinely tried but was swiftly cut off.
“Most rituals of such nature work this way,” he explained, looking down at her like an ignorant child she was. “Naturally, the bearer also benefits through it and not only monetarily. Weaker witches become stronger, and squibs sometimes become witches.” He smirked. “Slaves, on the other hand, shall receive none of the rewards.”
That conversation alone had crushed her, quickly explaining her position and perspectives. Seeing the life she could have had but never would due to her actions broke the witch even further.
For everyone in the house, she had become invisible. Their lives continued as usual, neither of them acknowledging the observer, communicating with her only when absolutely necessary. Hermione had genuinely tried but gave up after several sharp insults at her and the rest of their family.
“I’d rather die than become a death eater whore,” Ginny hissed at Hermione during their last conversation, her blue eyes lighting for the first time in months. “Pardoned or not, they still ruined other lives, my life!”
Hermione shook her head, looking at her friend with pity.
“You were the only one to ruin your life,” the new Miss Malfoy replied with a hint of steel in her voice. “While all of them fought, you slept around, looked for someone to fund your fantasies and when that didn’t work, tried to ruin three lives. You’re angry because some nerd muggleborn is happy. Because Harald has people he loves and doesn’t even bother looking at you most nights. And who do you have? No one. And that’s why you can’t calm down.”
Since that night, Ginny had remained truly utterly alone. She watched as Draco all but worshipped the ground Hermione walked on. He listened to whatever the woman had to say, kissed and hugged her whenever he pleased and readily joined whatever discussion she fancied. And whenever they were absent, Ginny was forced to watch Harald. Bright and carefree Harald, who laughed with his husbands, shining even brighter than he had back in their school days. Seeing Malfoy and Snape return those feelings tenfold had been startling. Still proud and cold to her, they showered Harald in attention whenever he asked, seldom refusing such a harmless request.
There wasn’t a single room in that cottage where she could hide from it. Even in the guest bedroom, Ginny had been given she could hear those conversations, that laughter. It surrounded and suffocated her. Brought agonising pain and crystal clear tears she cried into her pillow.
Mutual respect, love and blinding adoration - they had everything Ginny had ever craved, had ever dreamed of. All of it was so close yet too far.
Several times she had tried to do something, anything in revenge, but her own magic prevented the harm from taking. Mother Magic never allowed harm to befall children, swiftly killing anyone who dared, protecting the unborn even more fiercely.
With those pathetic attempts, Ginny had sealed her fate fully.
She died right after giving birth to a pair of healthy twins, her life becoming a payment for everything she had ever done. Alone and unloved, Ginny Weasley was buried in an unmarked grave in the middle of a magical forest - never visited, never mourned.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
It was late in the evening. Harald played absentmindedly with his son’s hair, gazing at something no one but him could see. Both of his children cuddled on both of his sides, dozing carelessly on him. Perhaps he should have sent them to bed earlier but hadn’t been able to make himself do so. A little later, perhaps .
Few things had changed since the birth of the twins four years ago. The outside world continued as he had, slowly bringing itself into destruction under the blind ignorance of the supposed victors of the war, oppressing and suppressing as much magic as they could. The current government hadn’t realised yet the harm their actions brought, and once they did, it would already be a few years too late. Aristocracy kept hiding in their homes, planning and devising scheme after scheme. Judging by Lucius’ satisfied smile after those occasional meetings, they had to wait just a little longer. Harald never wished to involve himself with that again but listened when his husband spoke of it. For some reason, Lucius enjoyed politics, and Harald couldn’t begrudge it to him as long as it didn’t touch their family. That it never would, he knew without a shade of a doubt.
Meanwhile, life inside their cottage had been as hectic as ever. Not a day passed without Harald having to get either Anwen, his darling daughter, or Charlus, his son, - and occasionally both - out of some adventure or another. The twins took all they could from their fathers - from looks to Harald’s overwhelming and unstable luck. Thankfully, they were almost old enough for lessons, a decent distraction, given neither of their parents despised learning. At least until Hermione and Draco’s son Scorpius grew enough to be dragged into those adventures.
Harald glanced at the children. Anwen muttered something in her sleep, scrunched her nose and sneezed. He chuckled and moved a wayward strand of hair away from her face. Shaking his head, he glanced at the faraway skies.
Sometimes it was so easy to forget everything that had happened. Forget his hungry childhood in the cupboard under the stairs, his horrific school years, all of which had been dangerous in their own, often unique, way. Other nights were like tonight. Nights he spent taking a silent vigil over his children, woken from horrific nightmares, unable to either sleep or forget, worried that a blink of an eye would reveal everything to be just a pleasant dream. That he would open his eyes and wake up back in the cupboard.
Others, too, had borne their scars. The war had taught all of them a few harsh lessons in unforgiving ways, sometimes taking their friends, other times never bothering to come directly after their own. Perhaps it had also been the reason why their mismatched group had managed to work so well. When there had been nowhere else to go but up, they all had sought others who still could be bothered.
After spending years losing everything you ever had, it was agonisingly freeing to keep living. To live like you had ever wished to and know that, come tomorrow, it wouldn’t disappear.
A sound of footsteps echoed down the road; an unpleasant but familiar chill touched his skin, freezing everything around its owner. Harald exhaled and pulled the blanket tighter around them. A chuckle echoed in the night silence. It didn’t get much warmer, but just enough to be sure neither of them would catch a cold.
He lowered his head, glanced at the figure standing a little away.
“Do you regret it, Master?” it asked, tilting its head to the side. The same impossibly green eyes looked at him in search of an answer.
“Not at all,” Harald replied, firmly and strongly. “Even if I had to go through it all again, I would.”
The figure nodded and disappeared, returning the warmth to the air. Both of them knew Harald had spoken nothing but the truth.