A/N: Welcome to my first story! I've been a longtime reader of fanfiction, but I've never gotten the motivation to write until the quarantine exhausted my other options of passing time. I'm hoping to post once a week on Sundays, but we'll see if I can do that as the chapters get longer.

This story features Harry and Daphne in their respective postwar places; one a war hero who wants to change the world to find closure with his survivor's guilt, the other a shy heiress who does a hell of a job acting out the person she's expected to be. Rated T for language and implicit mentions of sex. Please read and review with any comments about the writing or the content—constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Chapter 1: How Everything Started

For being the headquarters of Magical Britain's law enforcement corps, the DMLE office was a surprisingly calm place. The workspace was, well, a workspace, meant for debriefs and meetings. It would often be filled with the monotonous noises of quill on parchment and the occasional casting of an Auto-Filing Charm.

The silence drove Harry Potter nuts.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, he could've done anything he wanted to. Hell, he could've probably run for Minister of Magic and won by a landslide. But Harry wanted to live a normal life for once, and he was more than willing to work for his original dream of becoming an Auror. Given a chance to live his own life without worries of prophecies or Dark Lords, he worked his way up the ranks with his natural gift in combat and hours of painstakingly hard work. Now, at just 24, Harry had the honor of being named the youngest Head Auror in the history of the Ministry.

All of this, just for the silence to drive Harry Potter nuts.

Sometimes, when Harry closed his eyes, everything came rushing back. The overwhelming stench of blood and sweat that filled his senses as he ran past bodies through the Hogwarts corridors gripped his heart, and the faces of those he had failed would cloud every corner of his vision. Cedric, Fred, Dobby, Hedwig, Tonks, Lupin, and so many more that had lost their lives because of him. Sirius. It was why Harry still hadn't been back to Hogwarts—he was sure that stepping foot in that castle would just bring him back to the last time he had been there.

The silence made everything worse. It forced him to grapple with his thoughts, leaving him with no escape by means of an easy distraction.

Of course, the invitation in his hand didn't help. On most days Harry could muster enough resolve to keep his demons out of the way of conducting his daily business. But today wasn't like most days, and he knew that for the foreseeable future, it would only be getting worse. He sighed, staring at the fancy parchment in his hand:

We cordially invite:

Lord Harry James Potter, Head Auror

to the Ministry Ball in celebration of

the end of the Second Wizarding War

May 2nd, 7:00 PM.

May 2nd. Over the years, it had become his least favorite date, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and when everyone in Magical Britain decided to celebrate his supposed successes. Even without the usual ridiculous procedures in buying another new dress robe and finding someone to drag along as his date, the very idea that there was something to celebrate on this date made him sick. He briefly thought about skipping the ball, but his rational self knew that he couldn't afford to miss out on these sorts of events. Not one this big.

Merlin. He would need something strong to wash down his thoughts with. He contemplated calling Ron and Neville for a night at the Hog's before deciding against it and summoning a bottle of firewhiskey from his cabinet. Not strong enough for the upcoming days, but it would do for now. Checking his schedule, Harry made sure he was essentially done for the day before pouring out a glass when—

"Head Auror sir, there's a visitor wanting to see you. Uh, no appointment but I think it's from Greengrass Trading Co?" called out Miles Baxter, his nervous but diligent secretary.

Damn. He should've known that Lord Greengrass would drop in at his work; after all, Damien had sent a fair share of letters inquiring about a potential deal between the Greengrass business and Potter family holdings the past week. It was Harry himself who told Lord Greengrass that the best place to find him was the DMLE office.

As much as he hated thinking about financial matters, Harry knew he should invite Damien in tonight. Even if a deal couldn't be struck, there was enough merit in getting on Lord Greengrass' good side. Besides, it would give him something to think about that wasn't his past, and Damien was hardly a reminder of the war.

"Sir? Are you in there?" Baxter again.

Sighing, Harry got up to open the door. "Yes, let him in, but please let Lord Greengrass know that I have an hour at most to spare."

"Uh, actually sir, it's not Lord Greengrass that's come to see you. It's—"

Daphne Greengrass. The heiress to the Greengrass fortune stared back at him from a chair in his waiting-room, her piercing blue eyes seemingly looking straight into his soul. He already hated those eyes. They were the eyes of a pureblood businesswoman, cold and calculative; and though she broke into a seemingly genuine smile upon seeing him, he noticed her eyes showed no trace of any emotion.

"That's fine. Let her in." Harry was purposeful in not directly addressing her. He would need to take a moment to build up his mental barrier, and he wouldn't dare to be caught unprepared when conversing with anyone from the Greengrass family.

When he sensed his visitor enter the room behind him, Harry spoke up again. "I'd like to welcome you to my office, Heiress Greengrass. Though, I must say, it puzzles me as to why you've decided to pay me a visit."

Daphne gave a smile. "Please, drop the title, heiress makes me sound far too haughty. Though, Lord Potter—"

"I must insist, Miss Greengrass, that you call me Auror Potter, at least whilst in this office." There was a time when Harry would ask people to just address him as Harry, but those times were long over. He knew the power that titles could hold, and this would remind Daphne that she was in his home court in case she thought about pulling any funny business.

"Very well. I was just about to comment on the firewhiskey on your desk. Drinking on the job? I would've expected our youngest Head Auror to be a tad more responsible," she replied.

To Harry, every word sounded far too calculated—scratch that, he knew every word was calculated. While Daphne Greengrass had always seemed like a shy, studious student during their time at Hogwarts, Harry knew her from their brief interactions at social events to be far more cunning than she let on. Which one the act was, he wasn't sure; but right now, she was the second-in-command of her father's multinational trading empire, and she was here to play games with him. Normally he could play along quite well. Not today.

"I've dealt with a lot in this office today, Miss Greengrass." Not a lie, though not quite the truth. "So if you'll excuse my rudeness, I'd appreciate it if you could, with all respect due, cut to the chase."

If Daphne was offended, she did a good job of hiding it. "I'm here to discuss the proposal my father has contacted you about."

"The Potter Farms in France."

"Indeed."

Time to see if she had done her research. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If I'm not mistaken, the Greengrass business already has their fair amount of produce suppliers?"

"I thought you were the one who wanted to cut to the chase, Auror Potter. I'm sure you know why we're interested, and the reason has very little to do with food."

He didn't expect any less, but it was still worth checking whether she was worth his time. "It would've never struck me that the Greengrass family was trying their hand in potion supplies," he replied bemusedly.

"We think that there is a prime opening in the market. I could run you through the numbers, though I assure you that our best analysts agree. The only problem is—"

"Finding a supplier."

Daphne gave a slight nod. "Britain's apothecaries receive all their products from the Notts or from Ireland. There's already a limited supply, even if you were to discount the fact that we're trying to provide the best products."

"You want the Potter farm to supply you with magical herbs and plants." Again, a slight nod. She wasn't revealing more than she needed to, forcing him to be the questioner. "What about other suppliers? Surely you're not thinking of starting an apothecary with only herbs and plants?"

"We've already struck a deal with the Himalayan Creature Reserve and the Siberian Council of Shammanesses. My father is speaking with the Munoz family in Mexico as we speak. I cannot reveal much more until you sign the contract, but I assure you, you need not worry about the rest of the business."

"So what I'm hearing is that Lord Greengrass went off for more important matters and sent his daughter to deal with myself?" It was a taunt, but one that was more of a harmless joke.

His visitor's face still betrayed no emotion except for the ones she wanted him to see, though her voice carried the most subtle layer of cold finality. "Auror Potter, I hope you're not misunderstanding; in this place, my word has the same authority as that of my father's. I am not here as his assistant, but the manager of the British branch of Greengrass Trading Co," she paused, softening her tone, "the Potter farm is of the utmost importance to us. If my presence offends you and you would rather speak with my father on this, I can leave and we can schedule a formal appointment for another date."

Harry's had to force his lips from curling. She took him way too seriously, though he wondered if he could blame her for doing so. "That's fine, Miss Greengrass. You've obviously shown that you're much more than capable to negotiate a deal."

When Daphne spoke, her voice was still softer. It was nice to know his compliment had some level of effect. "Would you like to view the contract?"

"Just two more questions, if you would satisfy my curiosity."

"Go ahead."

"Why the Potter farm?"

She didn't miss a beat in her reply. "Everyone knows France is the premier location to grow most herbs and plants. Most of the farms overseas are moderated heavily by the government, but there are a few with majority private ownership—of those, your family's is the only one with a British owner, which makes it our first choice. "

"Nobody's planted there for years. Would the Greengrass family be providing the fees for restarting the farm—hiring workers, buying seeds, that like?"

"I'm not an idiot, Auror. I know you talked with Lord Longbottom for his French contacts last month, and that most of the work is done by house-elves. You've been wanting to restart the farm."

Harry didn't know if he'd hidden his look of surprise well enough. Apparently, he would need to be much more discreet in his business activities. "Fine. But the most important question still remains." He paused for dramatic effect. "Why should I sign on?"

"As I've told you, there's already a supply-side shortage for potion ingredients. Equipped with not only enough supply, but also that of a higher quality, I think you would agree with me that our apothecaries would dominate the market. You'd be getting an equity of—"

Harry cut her off rather brashly, with a tone he usually only reserved for interrogations. "I think you misunderstand my question. If you're not offering me anything special, why should I sign with you instead of going to Travers and negotiating a far better deal? What does Greengrass Trading Co offer that no one else does?"

She hesitated for a second, though it wasn't a particularly long one. "You need a strong political ally," she spoke, ever so carefully.

"I have many strong political allies," he replied, curious to see if she knew.

"You have strong political allies on one side of the spectrum. You need a strong political ally with strong pureblood ties, a political ally who can help convince families to walk across the aisle." She was much more confident now, continuing, "the Greengrass family is willing to negotiate a deal that goes beyond just the apothecaries. A mutually beneficial deal that gets both of us exactly what we want."

Well, she had him now. Allowing a small smile to graze his face, Harry simply said, "Let's see the contact."

He noticed a brief look of relief come over her face, though it was gone so quickly that he had to wonder whether he'd imagined it.

"Of course," Daphne said with a smile so beaming that it had to have been rehearsed, handing over a piece of parchment.

Harry managed to get through the first two pages before the silence got to him. He'd hoped the contract would give him a distraction to muse over, but it seemed as if his demons weren't going to let him go that easily.

He put down the contract, eyeing the bottle of firewhiskey on his desk. He wished he could down a drink right now. His heart pounded in his head, and he could swear that he felt wind pass through his hair. He was on a broom, his head was pounding, he saw his birdcage open and his head was still pounding and he couldn't see but—

"Auror Potter? Are you okay?" Daphne asked, concern dripping in her voice. He knew the emotion was feigned, but at that moment it didn't matter. He was just glad she'd broken the silence.

"Yes, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts for a while. Listen, you wouldn't mind if I gave the contract to my lawyers—"

"Would you like a drink?"

"Sorry?" Had she read his mind? His Occlumency shields should be functioning, but it wouldn't hurt to check again—

"You're staring at that bottle as if it was your lost lover, Auror," she smiled again, waving her wand to conjure two mugs. "I could entertain the idea of a drink as well. It's been quite a few days."

Oh Merlin yes, he could use a drink. He concentrated silently until their mugs had filled to the brim, and he raised his mug before taking a long sip.

"Impressive casting. I'm glad that our Head Auror's skills seem to be as extraordinary as rumored," Daphne commented.

Harry almost snorted. "You should see me on a mission. Wandless casting isn't all that amazing."

His visitor slightly narrowed her eyebrows. "When it's as silent and quick as yours was just now, it is. Besides, I was never the best when it came to casting. The theoretical side of magic piqued my interests much more."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Hermione wouldn't let us hear the end of it when you edged her out in Ancient Runes our fifth year. Always said you were one of the brightest in our year."

"I'm glad to know that Junior Director Granger thought of me that way. It is flattering to receive a compliment from a witch of her measure."

"Drop the formalities, will you? The business talk is basically over, if you want I'll even tell Lord Greengrass how impressive you were." Harry noticed that she had barely taken a sip from her mug, if she'd even consumed anything. "I have half an hour 'till I'm off, and I'm thinking it'd be nice to end the day on a little drink and some small talk. That is, if you're fine with me waiting on the contract until my lawyers take a look, Daphne." He made sure to put a slight emphasis on her name.

"That'll be perfectly acceptable. Though I must say, Auror, I don't believe it appropriate to address you by your first name given our level of acquaintedness."

Harry sighed, filling his mug again. "So, how's the business?"

It'd be an hour before their conversing finally came to an end. During that time, they'd gone through two whole bottles of firewhiskey. Harry frowned, realizing he'd had most, if not all, of the drink.

Harry also realized some things about Daphne Greengrass he hadn't known before. There were the trivial things, like that she was distantly related to the Delacours through her mother, or that she'd spent two years overseas for business training. There were the more interesting tidbits, like that her wand was made from holly or that she couldn't cast a corporeal patronus. But perhaps most revealing of all, she'd been every bit the pleasant talk-buddy, asking and answering her fair share, but nothing more and nothing less; she was a businesswoman at heart, and he was but her client to please.

Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who gave him a sense of distraction that he desperately needed that night. Besides, her ever-so-present grace and poise were quite entertaining to Harry. He was just thinking that he'd had a surprisingly good time, when she snapped him back to reality by getting up.

"Well, it's been pleasant chatting with you, Head Auror, but the silence seems to be a good indication that it's time for me to take my leave," she commented, "I hope you'll reach out to the Greengrass family with good news about the contract within a few days, preferably by owl."

She had her hand on the doorknob when a crazy idea floated into Harry's mind. "Wait," he called out, still debating the merits of his idea. He was made aware of the fact that his face slightly heated up, though he wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or his anticipated embarrassment. But before he could overthink it, his inner Gryffindor took over, and he called out, "Heiress Greengrass, would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to the Ministry Ball this Sunday?"

When she turned around with an expression of surpise, Harry couldn't help but notice that it was the first time that night he'd seen Daphne's face so openly reflect her true emotions.

He decided that he liked it a lot.