The next time Harry opened his eyes, it was clear that he was no longer in the Hercules world, no longer in the underworld. The heavy, necrotic chill of the Underworld had been entirely replaced by the comforting, familiar scents of his home, expensive silk, wood polish, and the faint, lingering trail of lavender.
Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the master suite, casting long, golden fingers across the floor and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Only Daphne was by his side on his bed.
For a moment, Harry just lay there, staring at the crown molding of the ceiling, listening to the quiet, rhythmic hum of the Manor. He reached out with his senses, seeking the chaotic, bubblegum-pink spark of Tonks or the sharp, disciplined aura of Anya.
Seemed they were not around, he supposed that they were busy. Really busy, if they weren't here. Normally, whenever he came back from his jumps, his girls would always be there to cuddle and always wanted to know what he had done while he was away.
Harry turned slightly, the high-thread-count sheets rustling, and wrapped his arms around Daphne.
Gods. No matter how many times he looked at her, no matter how many worlds he traveled or how many women he encountered in his travels through the Void, he still couldn't get over the fact of how beautiful she was.
It was a beauty that felt grounded and ethereal all at once. That waterfall of blonde hair spread over the pillow like spun silk, those crystal-blue eyes that could cut through a person's soul when she was annoyed and melt his resolve into a puddle when she smiled. And her lips, pale yet kissed with a hint of natural pink, that he just couldn't help but kiss whenever they were close.
He was always reminded of why he fell in love with her first. her voice, soft when she wanted to be intimate, but possessed of a sharp, regal edge when she needed to command. She was the anchor of his chaotic life, and her fierce personality lit up his life.
His eyes strayed from her face, tracing the silhouette beneath the sheets, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Her body didn't exactly make things difficult for him either. The elegant curves of her hips, the grace in her proportions, and the way her presence seemed to fill a room without her saying a word.
There was a specific way she moved, a confident sway that always kept his eyes on her when she walked ahead of him. Damn, his girl was fine. She was the personification of "Ice" thawed into something far more dangerous and intoxicating.
She seemed to know how to drive him crazy with just a few words and the slight movement of her body.
Daphne stirred in her sleep, shifting against the warmth of his chest as she began to wake. Her eyes flashed open, giving him a glimpse of those beautiful cerulean depths he had just been thinking about.
"Good morning, luv," he whispered, his voice still raspy from sleep.
"Morning," she answered back, her voice a low, melodious hum. Her hand moved to his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw and brushing over his cheek with a tenderness she showed only to him.
Honestly, it should be illegal for someone to wake up looking as pristine as she does right now. He was starting to understand Tonks a little better now. Harry took the hand on his face and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles.
"What happened? You came back looking... significantly worse for wear than you normally do," she asked quietly, her thumb rubbing a small, faded scar on his temple.
"Nothing serious, just got into a small brawl," he said easily, placing small, punctuating kisses on the palm of her hand.
"A 'small brawl,' hm?" Daphne gave him a look, the "Greengrass Stare", that clearly signaled she didn't believe a single word of his understatement. She knew him well enough to know that if Harry came back bleeding, he had likely been in a serious fight, a small brawl could not have him in the state she found him.
However, seeing the warmth in his eyes, she chose to drop the topic. She didn't want to talk about things like that at the moment, she just wanted to enjoy the company of her man now that he was back in one piece. She snuggled in closer, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
"Not busy today?" he asked, stroking her hair.
Daphne was the one who normally held things together. She took care of all the house affairs, assets, investments, and the intricate social web of the wizarding aristocracy. Even though she wasn't officially Lady Black or Lady Potter yet, she did the work of both, and then some.
Daphne was, in all honesty, the Head Lady of the house. He was sure that even after they married, she'd continue running all three of his ancestral houses with an iron fist in a silk glove. She seemed to enjoy the work, the quiet power of managing a legendary legacy, so he never bothered to argue.
"I wanted to spend the day with you," she said softly. She shifted, turning him onto his back with surprising strength before sitting up and straddling his waist, looking down at his face with an expression of possessive affection.
"A date?" he asked, a grin playing on his lips.
She shook her head. "No. Just the two of us here in the house together. I don't really feel like going out. I don't feel like being 'Lady Greengrass' today."
Daphne wanted to spend today just lazing around, recapturing the simplicity of their old times at Hogwarts. Back when they could sit by the Black Lake for hours, enjoying the wind, the cool air, and the sunset, pretending the rest of the world and its expectations didn't exist. He nodded, and she leaned down to give him a slow, deep kiss that tasted of home before she slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
It was a while later that the two of them ended up in the living room, curled together on the sprawling couch, their legs entwined. They talked for hours, the kind of aimless, winding conversation that only people who truly know each other can have.
Daphne told him about the mundane drama of the last few days, letters from the Ministry, Gringotts statements, and people being generally annoying, while Harry told her about the absurdity of his trip to "Ancient Greece."
He laughed when she asked what he meant by "Action Figures and Smoothies." in ancient Greece. He described a world where heroism was like a commercial brand, complete with endorsements and singing muses. She stared at him as if he were losing his mind, then eventually leaned her head on his shoulder.
Eventually, the conversation drifted toward Astoria. Daphne mentioned how her younger sister had finally seemed to calm down and find a steady rhythm since her wedding.
Harry still didn't fully understand why the girl had decided to marry the literal moment she graduated from Hogwarts. He'd expected Astoria to spend at least a few years traveling or causing chaos, but when she'd first announced her intention to wed, he'd been stunned into silence.
The wedding, three months ago, had been a spectacle. It was a massive, loud, and shimmering affair, exactly what Astoria Greengrass deserved. Harry didn't exactly like the groom, but he didn't hate him either, which was a victory for the family. The poor bastard, Theodore Nott, had looked about ready to shit himself when Astoria had first introduced him to "Lord Black."
Theodore was a former classmate, one of the few sensible boys in their Slytherin year who had actually possessed enough brain cells to stay away from Draco Malfoy's more idiotic schemes.
Harry didn't know the boy well, but Astoria seemed genuinely happy with him, so Harry had decided to just watch from the sidelines. He figured if Nott ever stepped out of line, he'd find out exactly what happens when you upset a Godslayer's sister-in-law.
Still, it was infinitely better than Astoria's former crush. The mere thought of Draco Malfoy as his brother-in-law nearly made Harry gag. Lucky for everyone, Malfoy had burned those bridges years ago, and Harry couldn't help but be glad he wouldn't have to share a Christmas dinner with the blond ponce. The Greengrass family dinner table would have been a battlefield.
Daphne also mentioned that her parents had been hoping for a visit. Lord and Lady Greengrass were eager to have them over for dinner. Harry shrugged and told her they could go whenever she felt up to it. He actually enjoyed the Greengrass's company, despite the father, but Harry could overlook something for the sake of his love for Daphne and his liking of Astoria.
Suddenly, Daphne went silent.
The silence stretched for a few minutes, drawing Harry's attention away from his thoughts. He felt the shift in her, a sudden tension in her posture. She adjusted how she was sitting, turning fully to face him, legs crossed as she sat completely on the couch. She looked Harry straight in the eyes, her expression unreadable. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, looking away for a fleeting second.
She was hesitating. It was a rare sight for the ever-composed Daphne Greengrass. Harry reached out, taking both of her hands in his, drawing her gaze back to him.
"What is it, Daphy?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, soft and encouraging.
She took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as she steeled herself. She looked like she was bracing, but the fire in her eyes was one of absolute certainty.
"Let's get married," she said.
The words weren't a question. They weren't a plea. They were a declaration, simple and absolute certainty.
Harry froze, not out of shock or fear, but because of the sheer, overwhelming rightness of it. He looked at her, seeing the woman who had stood by him through the years, through the battles, and through his own stupid actions over the years, and so no reason to say anything other than the right words.
He smiled slowly, a genuine, warm expression that reached his eyes.
"Okay," he said.
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