A/N: I'm back! I suppose it's only been ten days, but it feels like it's been so much longer. This chapter's actually been finished for a couple days, but I really wanted to get on a regular upload schedule. From now on, you can expect chapters to be released every Sunday, anytime between noon and 6-ish PDT.

This one was hard to write. I didn't know how awkward it would be writing fights in a text format, but it turns out italics and caps can't fully convey the emotion you want to express. Plus, Hagrid's in this chapter, and his accent is a nightmare; in the end, I ended up going more for the readability aspect than sticking to exactly how Rowling would write him, because I think overdone accents can pull you out of a story. Hopefully I found the Goldilocks Zone.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. If there's any mistakes with grammar or spelling you find, please PM me. As always, reviews are appreciated and inspire me to work harder.

Chapter 3: Jus' Go With Yer Gut

It had been a bad three days, even by Harry's standards.

The nightmares and visions got slightly better, as they always did on the other side of May 2nd. But the space that the terrors had filled in his mind were only replaced by worry over what had happened on Sunday. The stress had bogged him down at work, and he'd even cancelled his session with William.

The worst-case scenario had been averted, as far as he could tell. He remembered the feeling of dread as he received the Prophet on Monday morning, but there was no mention of his quick and premature exit at the Ball. And no one at work had said anything to him about the incident; though, it was unlikely that they would ask about it even if they knew. Harry had quite the reputation for avoiding—and disliking—talk that concerned him.

None of that changed the fact that he felt horrible about the way he'd left Daphne behind. In all honesty, he'd enjoyed their date, far more than he'd expected to, considering the reason he'd asked Daphne to the Ball was mostly about appearances and politics. Still, he knew he'd ruined a good night, and his chest felt heavy whenever he thought back to Daphne's voice pleading him to stay.

Harry had tried to fix things as soon as possible, if only to alleviate the guilt he was feeling. He sent a letter to Damien first thing on Monday, apologizing for his behavior at the Ball and expressing his hope that their business deal could still work out. He then sent a separate letter to Daphne, once again apologizing and this time suggesting ways in which he could make it up to her. His judgement of her told him to appeal to her calculating nature, and he offered her a better cut of the apothecary deal as well as promising to listen to any potential business ideas she came to him with. Both letters were formal, dignified, and tailored to each recipient, and he'd even made sure that they were sent staggered so as to avoid an awkward breakfast table delivery of both at once.

It was thus a surprise—and an instant headache—that neither of them had still replied. It'd been way past the standard two business days he usually expected for owl correspondence, and there was no sign that the Greengrasses had even seen his apologies. All that did was build confusion, guilt, and a minute tinge of annoyance in Harry, who really couldn't afford to lose out on such an important political ally.

Today, though, he would try to make things better. Today was the day of his first business meeting with Greengrass Trading Co. He would undoubtedly see Daphne, as she was the one who was in charge of this deal, and he could apologize straight to her face.

At 9:00 am sharp, Harry checked one last time that he'd delegated his tasks appropriately, and apparated out of his office onto the road just beyond the gate to the Greengrass estate. As he admired the gardenscape that he hadn't paid much attention to his last visit, a diminutive house elf approached him.

"I is delighted to welcome you, Sir Harry Potter! I is Plinky, and I serve the great Greengrasses, sir!" The elf was one of the most cheerful of his kind that Harry had ever seen; he was nearly bouncing up and down with joy.

Harry smiled down as the elf began leading him through the garden and into the house. "Hello, Plinky. Is Daphne ready to see me?"

Plinky gasped, saying, "Sir Harry Potter will not be seeing Miss Daphne today! No, Plinky wishes he could help Sir Harry Potter, but Sir Damien said Plinky must bring Sir Harry Potter to him!"

This puzzled Harry, who knew that Daphne was in charge of the deal, but he didn't tell Plinky so; it was obviously causing the elf great distress that the guest's wishes were different from his master's. "No, that's okay, Plinky. Damien is right, I just forgot for a second. Here, let's hurry up, we don't want to make Damien wait."

The elf nodded in visible relief, and their pace was quickened for the rest of the way to Damien's office.

And what an office it was. Harry couldn't help but admire the grandeur and design of the room, which placed Damien in the center in a comfortable-looking business chair. Not unlike the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, the walls were lined with various knickknacks; though, all of these were clearly practical and doing their jobs. Thinking back to his own office at the Ministry, Harry couldn't help but be a little jealous.

"Welcome in, Harry. I'm glad Plinky was able to bring you here so quickly," called out Damien's voice.

"Of course. Thanks for inviting me to your home office—it was nice to have an excuse to be outside of the Ministry."

Damien laughed. "Ah, yes. Office buildings are a little dull, aren't they? Precisely the reason why I work from home nowadays."

"Huh," Harry asked, "then what should I make of your huge headquarters in downtown London?"

"Daphne runs it now. I assume you've heard one way or another, but ever since she's been made the British regional manager, she's been handling the day-to-day operations."

"Of course, congratulations to her and to the company. So I guess my meeting today will be with you instead?"

"Every meeting from now on, actually. I've decided to handle all the apothecary dealings."

"Oh," Harry said, a bit more meekly than he would've liked.

"Is something wrong? I thought you were the one asking for me to be there when Daphne first approached you about the deal." It was phrased like a joke, delivered like one too, but there was a slight steel in his voice that made Harry wary to press the issue.

Instead, he forced a laugh. "Of course not. I'm honored to be in the presence of the great Chief Executive Officer of Greengrass Trading Co."

Damien was back to his usual cheer, laughing along, "Alright, let's get started then."

The meeting had been long and, in Harry's humble opinion, a little bit pointless. All of the details they'd talked through were ones that he'd already gone over with his lawyers, and in all honesty he was more than happy with the terms of the contract. Still, by the end of the hour, Harry had inked the contract that marked the beginnings of a deal. He ensured himself the vowed support of the Greengrass family in the Wizengamot for a lower cut of the profits, a deal that was in his favor in Harry's mind—after all, he had enough money as was.

As he stepped into the foyer of the Greengrass household, he noticed a figure scurry out of the entry hall, as delicately as one can scurry. Though he probably had no business in intruding any further than he needed to, he couldn't help being hopeful about who he'd just seen.

"Daphne?" He called out softly.

No response came, but he did hear two light footsteps from around the corner.

"Daphne, is that you?" He tried again.

Harry felt like an idiot, staring down an empty hallway for what felt like an eternity. Daphne was supposed to be working in her London office, for Merlin's sake. Just as he turned to leave, though, Daphne's steely voice turned him back around.

"Potter. It is good to know you're taking the business end of your agreement seriously." She was feigning politeness, but the venom with which she said his name made him wince.

"You were listening in on the meeting." Hearing no reply, he said, "I was really hoping you'd be there."

"After the way our last social outing ended, my father decided it'd be for the best of both of us if he handled the Potter Farms on his own. I'm sure you could see why."

"I thought he'd be mad at me. I thought he'd be absolutely furious, but he didn't even bring it up."

"He is mad." Daphne gave a sigh filled with annoyance. "But… my father knows to keep personal and business matters separate. He understands two people may not be compatible as… friends, but that doesn't mean that something great can no longer be found in working with you."

Harry let out an unintelligent "oh," and before he could find a way to continue the conversation, Daphne spoke first.

"Well, if that's all, I must excuse myself. I hope you found your time today to be valuable," she idly commented, still out of Harry's sight.

He couldn't just let her go without getting a chance to apologize. "Daphne," he called out.

No response.

He tried again. "Daphne, I'm sorry."

"Save it, Potter."

"I just want to talk, I promise."

"You just want to talk. Isn't that ironic, Potter? Who was the one who wanted nothing to do with talking on Sunday?" She walked out, and her controlled anger was now in full view for Harry to experience.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you know what the people have said? Do you know what I've gone through the past four days?" Her control was slipping away. "You've made me the fool of Wizarding Britain, Potter."

"I thought none of the press knew," he replied quietly.

"The Prophet doesn't know. But did you really think no one at the Ball would notice me run after you and come back alone?"

"I'm sorry. I—"

She cut him off. "Apology accepted. Now please, leave."

"Will you at least let me explain myself?" Despite himself, Harry found frustration building in his head.

"I already said I accept your apology, and I would like you to leave."

"I'll leave once I've had a chance to tell you what I feel. I'm here to apologize."

"No you're not."

"What?"

"You're not sorry."

Harry blinked. "Yes I am! What are you even talking about?"

"Save your breath, Potter. You're not sorry. Now leave," Daphne said, whose anger was now obvious in the slight trembles of her body and the quivers in her voice.

"Can you let me talk? I'm trying to tell you that I feel bad, and you're just telling me how you think I'm feeling."

"Really, Potter? You think you're sorry?" Daphne took a deep breath, now shaking, "then SHOW ME! All I'm hearing are these easy words that don't mean anything to me. I—I can't believe the nerve of you. You tell me you're sorry, but you sure don't fucking act like it. You tell me you're sorry, but you fucking stroll into my house and and try to play this—this stupid game of verbal chess with me, dancing around the actual issue, as if you TELLING ME OFF is making anything better!"

He was getting more annoyed by the second at her audacity to tell him he wasn't sorry. "Look, I don't know what you want me to do! I told you sorry, I've told you sorry multiple times, I told you sorry four days ago and it's not my fault you didn't say anything back. I know I fucked up, but I offered you what you wanted!" Her anger got to him, and he responded with anger of his own. "HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SHOW YOU?"

But when he looked into Daphne's face, his bubbling anger suddenly turned into a guilt that hardened in his throat and made his stomach sink. "Fuck you, Potter. You don't know the first thing about me," she managed before running away, hiding the tears that were running down her face with her hands.

Harry wanted to chase after her, but the gravity of how badly he fucked up finally hit him in the chest and grounded him to where he was standing.

Harry trudged into the Hog's, exhausted from a long night—no, a long week filled with work. He saw Ron and Neville sitting at their usual spot and made his way over to them, muttering, "just something strong, Pete, you know my favorites," as he passed the barman.

"Merlin, you look like a dementor made love with you," Ron commented as he saw his face.

"As gross as what Ron just said is, I have to agree," Neville said, pulling out the chair next to him. "Was work really that bad?"

Harry replied, "typical week, you know how it can get," before thinking about it. "I've just had a lot to deal with this week. Office politics, real politics, business dealings…"

"Maybe you should just go home. Get some rest for once, I know you love me it's not like you have to spend every Friday with us." Ron laughed, though the look he gave Harry showed his sincerity about Harry's health.

Harry glared back at him. "What I need, Ron, is some alcohol."

"I'm just saying, you could use some rest."

On the inside, Harry agreed with Ron. It'd been—what, at least a month?—since he got over six hours of sleep. Without the help of Glamour Charms and Pepper-Up Potions he'd probably look dead; hell, even with them he was starting to look like a sleepless zombie. An early night's sleep sounded nice. But—

"You know I can't, Ron."

"You can't skip out on your work, sure. You can't skip out on office politics? Sounds like bullshit to me, but let's say that for the sake of your grand old mission, sure. But you can definitely skip out on this."

"You're interrogating me as if this was Auror Training. Do I really need a reason to hang out with my best mates?" Harry gave a goofy grin, and hoped it would convince his two friends.

"Fine," Neville sighed, "but you're getting home before 1."

"Well, if you're staying, you might as well tell us what the Wizarding World's been dying to know," Ron added with a sigh of his own.

"And that would be?"

"Don't play dumb, Harry."

"Fine. How much do you guys know?"

Ron replied, "everything I've heard is from Neville, and the only thing he really said was that Daphne messed up really badly during the Ball and you left her for good."

Harry grimaced. It was true, the pureblood circles had already caught wind of the incident and had started running their rumor mill.

"But something tells me that's not the full story. For one, I don't tend to believe in any of the shit Neville's Gran says about gossip, but I also know you're not the type to just ditch a date. Merlin, you lasted a whole five hours with Fawcett last Yule, and I know you hated her."

"I needed Fawcett on my side. You know the influence her family has in the States, and I had an international mission with her Auror Captain cousin."

"You need Greengrass, too." Neville commented, "Unless you're really telling us to believe the only reason you asked her to the Ball was because you were interested in her. You haven't dated a girl for the sake of dating since—well, since Ginny."

His friends knew him too well. "Okay, yeah. I need the Greengrasses on my side. But is it that surprising, given my dating history? I've lasted, what, at the most—"

"You're dodging the question," said Ron quietly.

Harry sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Why you ran out on Greengrass like that."

For a second, he debated telling his friends the truth, or as close to the truth as he could manage. But today wasn't the right day. It was never the right day, but Ron and Neville would understand. "It's kind of personal and I can't tell you everything, but I fucked up. I didn't run out of her out of anything but my own embarrassment."

Ron and Neville shared a look, but neither of them decided to press the issue. "Well, so what are you gonna do?" Ron asked.

Neville looked in surprise. "You're gonna do something?"

"Of course he is. It's Harry, for fuck's sake. He's too honorable and all that."

"Well, I tried to apologize. But something tells me I fucked up even more."

Ron was obviously curious. "What happened?"

It was embarrassing, but this was a detail Harry was willing to share. "I sent a letter to her first thing the next day. Didn't get a reply, but I figured I would see her because I had a business meeting with her on Thursday."

"The apothecary deal?" confirmed Neville.

"Yeah. Only thing was, Daphne wasn't the one at the meeting. Damien—Lord Greengrass—was."

Ron asked, "I mean, but you probably expected it a little bit, right? If you were her, wouldn't you want to avoid awkward interactions for a bit?"

"Here's the thing. She didn't send her father in place for one meeting. Damien's handling the rest of the deal."

"Oh." Neville said, "Oh, that's not good."

"Not at all. But it gets even weirder; I got out of the meeting and ran into Daphne listening in on it, even though she was supposed to be at work in downtown London."

"Well, that's a positive, right?" Ron chirped.

"It might've been, if I didn't fuck up so bad. It essentially ended in us yelling at each other. I think—I think that I assumed some things about her in my apology, and it really made her mad."

"Blimey," said Ron, and for once, Harry found his friend's expletive to be perfectly fitting for the situation.

Neville took a little more care with his words. "Well, what happened with the deal?"

"It's still on. Apparently Damien is the type of person who keeps his business and personal matters very separately."

"And there's no catch?"

"I don't think so. At least, he didn't treat me any differently during our meeting yesterday, and the contract is now signed, so it's not like he can change the conditions without my agreement."

"Well—and don't get me wrong, Harry—is it that bad then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know how much it's in your blood to want to fix your mistakes and whatever. But you tried your best already, and it didn't work out. Maybe that's where you leave it."

Harry sat silently for a moment, taking in Neville's words.

Ron spoke up. "He has a point, mate. You don't need to stress yourself out about this. Plus, it's Daphne Greengrass—there's almost zero chance that she would ever accept your apology."

"But I messed up so badly," Harry said, and his voice was a lot quieter than he would've liked.

"Well, everyone messes up badly once in a while. Daphne might be the first step in learning to accept the fact that you're gonna go through some fuck ups." Neville replied quietly.

It was a long moment of silence before Harry spoke again. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe I need to stop trying for once in my life."

But on the inside, Harry knew he didn't truly believe the words he said—the feeling of dread in his stomach told him otherwise.

The Tonks residence was a humble but cozy house located on a cul-de-sac which was within a Muggle neighborhood but undetectable to Muggles. It had been constantly tended to by Andromeda after the war, and it was, in Harry's opinion, the most homey home he'd ever been in—barely reminding him of the place he was tended to during his escape from home seven years ago. Secretly, Harry suspected the house had gone through such a drastic makeover for that exact reason: Andromeda had lost her daughter, son-in-law, and husband in the last war, and needed no reminder of it.

It was a surprisingly warm day for a London May, and Harry decided he'd be taking Teddy out for the day. Stepping onto the porch, he knocked on the door, and it instantly opened to reveal a zooming ball of green.

"Uncle Harry! I missed you!" Teddy Lupin had inherited his dad's intelligence, but his personality was his mom's energy, bright and cheerful. He was also, at that moment, completely green.

"Teddy! What's up kiddo?" Harry laughed, taking Teddy into his arms and swinging him around. Over the years, his godson had become his source of joy, as well as the only one constantly reminding him to have some fun.

"Oh, Harry, you're here. It's so nice to see you, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Andromeda stepped into the living room.

"Oh, come on, Andromeda, it's only been three weeks." It had been longer than Harry would've liked, but he had a job and a mission. He couldn't see his godson everyday like he wanted to. "How've you been?"

"You know me, nothing new except for whatever this rascal decides to do," she pointed at Teddy, "but I've been good. You're taking Teddy to Hagrid's?"

"YES!" cried out Teddy before Harry even had a chance to respond. "We're going to Hagrid's?"

He'd meant for it to be a surprise, but there was no point in hiding it now. "Yeah, I thought you'd like to see him—or maybe just his puffskeins." Teddy was the definition of an outdoors kid, and he'd become obsessed with magical creatures since he was five. Luckily for Harry, he knew someone else who was obsessed with magical creatures—though, he did have to remind Hagrid multiple times that there would absolutely be nothing more dangerous than a niffler. The kid was seven, after all.

Teddy nodded eagerly, in the way that only little kids can.

"Great. Then you're gonna go up to your room and get changed, and be back down in ten. Oh, and change your skin back to normal."

"Yessir!"

"Well, good to know Teddy hasn't changed a bit in the past three weeks."

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder how such a little kid has so much energy," Andromeda replied. "I swear, even Tonks wasn't that bad."

The mention of Tonks sent a sharp pang through Harry's heart. Teddy would never get to know the strong, radiant woman that was his mother, or the wise and caring man that was his father. And Harry was to blame for it. He knew Teddy had a better childhood than he himself ever did, but it still hurt his heart thinking about how his carelessness left one of the sweetest kids he knew as an orphan.

"So," Andromeda broke the silence, pointing at the broomstick in Harry's arm, "you're gonna ride to Hagrid's then?"

"Yeah, you know how much Teddy loves it. I swear, maybe I'll get him his first training broomstick this Christmas."

"Just be careful." The vulnerability in Andromeda's voice made Harry's heart ache once again. It was clear to anyone who looked carefully that Teddy was what was grounding Andromeda to this world. He was her world, and Harry knew better than anyone that after all the loss she'd been through, the woman couldn't handle even the thought of losing someone else.

He squeezed her hand. "I will. Don't worry, you know how much care I take."

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "So, are you planning to stay out until dinner?"

"Yeah, there's this great new Chinese place in Wood Green. Want to join us?"

"No, it's Exploding Snaps night at the Three Broomsticks and Merlin knows I haven't been out in forever. Just make sure you have him back by 8:30."

"I'M READY," Teddy cried as he bolted down the stairs, in a t-shirt and jeans and no longer green.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you boys from having your fun." Andromeda said. "Be safe!"

"I will, Gran!" Teddy replied, running out the doors.

"Thanks, Andromeda," Harry said, giving her a tight hug before following Teddy.

As Harry took off from the ground with Teddy holding onto him, he couldn't help but admire the sight below him. London was beautiful from the skies, no matter how many times he saw it.

"Make sure to hold on tight, Teddy, we're gonna speed up now!" Harry said, and he felt the small arms around his waist tighten. His Firebolt had safety charms in place, but it would still hurt for Teddy if he fell off.

Within a few minutes of leaving London behind, the highlands of Scotland could be seen. It wasn't that Harry was moving exceptionally fast, it was that magic brought people who wanted to go to Hogwarts closer to the castle—or perhaps, it brought Hogwarts closer to the people. It made sense, if you didn't think about it.

Landing in front of Hagrid's hut, Harry asked, "How was the ride, kiddo?"

Teddy looked up at him with the biggest smile in the world. "It was awesome! I can't wait until I can fly like you!"

"Not yet, Teddy. We don't want to give your Gran a heart attack, do we?" Harry smiled. His godson would be in for a big surprise that Christmas.

Teddy pouted. "Fine. But I get to choose what we're having for dinner. It's gonna be cake!"

Harry gave a good natured laugh, saying, "C'mon, let's go in. Hagrid's waiting for us."

They'd barely knocked when the door swung open.

"Harry, Teddy, I thought it be yeh two. Come in, come in. How yeh been?" Hagrid gave both of them a huge hug.

"Hagrid!" Teddy shouted, nearly jumping on top of the half-giant.

"We've been good Hagrid, just the usual stuff. You're doing good?"

"Yeah, end o' term's got us busy, but we'll manage jus' fine. Teddy, I got a couple o' puffs in the back waitin' for yeh to play with them."

"YES!" Teddy ran out the back door, leaving Harry and Hagrid to talk.

"End of term already, that's crazy. Do you know if there's any promising Auror hopefuls?"

Taking a seat, Hagrid replied, "Why don' yeh see for yerself? Hogwarts is only a walk away, Harry."

Harry sighed. It seemed like everyone around him suddenly had the mission of making him do uncomfortable things. "I can't, Hagrid. It's too much, you know that."

"Yea, but jus' for a bit? C'mon Harry, Professor McGonagall misses yeh. So does every other professor with a heart."

"I see Professor McGonagall all the time. I had dinner with her over the Christmas break."

"It's not the same, Harry. I dunno why yeh won't visit Hogwarts, yeh visit me all the time and I practically live on Hogwarts grounds."

"One day I will, Hagrid. I plan to." It wasn't a lie. He'd meant to pop in once in a while, and he still planned on visiting whenever he was free of his visions, he just—didn't know when.

For a while, they made small talk about life, people, whatever came to mind. Teddy joined them for a while before he was begging Hagrid to see his niffler, then he was off again. It was at that moment that Harry thought maybe he should vent to Hagrid about what he went through the past week.

"It's interesting, Harry, that's for sure. Yeh were never good with girls, eh?"

"Yeah, Hagrid, I didn't exactly say this to you for you to poke fun at me."

"Well, so what are yeh gonna do?"

"I don't know. I don't want to end things like that but a lot of people seem to think maybe I should just leave it alone, maybe that it's for the better."

"Well, what do yeh want to do?"

The question made Harry pause. What did he want to do? He wasn't quite sure; he didn't think he should leave his relationship with Daphne like that, especially if they had to work together. But then again, he had no idea what he could do to fix his mistake.

Before Harry could speak, Hagrid did so first. "Harry, I think yer thinkin' too much about this. Yer a good kid, always have been. Jus' follow what yer gut is sayin', and I think yeh'll be fine."

Hagrid's answer was as thought-provoking as his question. When had Harry gotten so calculative about people? What did Harry's gut tell him to do? It was something he'd have to sit through with a bottle of whiskey, no doubt.

"Okay, yeah, I think I get what you're saying. Thanks, Hagrid." Harry got up, "Let's check on Teddy before he manages to run away to Ireland with your niffler."

The rest of the day was spent at Hagrid's, and the three enjoyed some games of Exploding Snaps once Teddy finally got tired. The flight back to London was a short one, but the sun was setting beautifully and Harry stopped to let Teddy admire the view more than once. They were finally sat down in their booth at Chef Li's, Harry's broomstick charmed to look like a keychain.

"Teddy, why aren't you eating? The food is awesome."

Teddy pouted up at him. "You promised that we would have cake for dinner."

Harry gave a good-natured laugh. "No I didn't. You said that and ran off before I even had a chance to respond. Besides, you should really try this General Tso's Chicken. It's better than any cake I've had, that's for sure."

"Fine, but only because I'm really hungry." Teddy apprehensively took a bite of his food, before his face lit up. "Oh. Oh wow, this food is really good, Uncle Harry." He started digging in.

"I told you so, kiddo." Harry decided to change the subject. "So, how's school for you lately?"

"Boring. I don't know why I have to go to school anyway."

"What about your friends? Don't Andrew and Price make school fun?"

"Me and Andrew aren't friends anymore."

Harry was confused; Andrew had been Teddy's best friend for essentially all their lives. "Huh? What happened?"

"I was at his house and playing with his toys. Then he just walked in and started screaming at me!"

"Well, did you ask him permission?"

"No, but he started yelling at me, Uncle Harry! He's crazy!"

"Right, but you didn't ask permission to play with his toys either. So maybe you're both to blame. You should just apologize to him."

"That's not fair. He should apologize first."

"Well, whoever apologizes first is the bigger man. You know that, right Teddy?"

Teddy looked up at him with all the innocence of a seven-year-old. "They are?" he asked in wonder.

"They are," Harry confirmed, "but it has to come out of the bottom of your heart. You can't just say sorry and expect the other person to accept it, you really have to mean it."

"Okay, I will." Teddy nodded, eating a few more pieces of chicken before speaking up again. "But Uncle Harry? What if I don't want to see Andrew ever again? Do I still need to apologize?"

Harry thought it was cute how his nephew thought that he and his best friend would cease being friends over such a small fight. "Of course, Teddy. Apologies aren't important because of their results. Apologies are important because it lets the other person know that you're sorry. It's more about admitting that you're wrong than it is about pleasing the other person. That's the only way you'll become a bigger person."

Teddy took in every word he was saying. "Okay, I think that makes sense. Uncle Harry, you give the best advice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean, if I was ever in trouble, you would be the first person I'd go to to ask for advice. It's like you always know what the right thing to do is."

The last comment put Harry in a thoughtful mood. He knew what the right thing to do was, didn't he? After all, he had just told Teddy the answer to his own problem. "Thanks, kiddo. That means a lot coming from my favorite godson."

Harry got the same exact piece of advice from two of the most important people in his life—even if one of them had been inadvertent—and it was the most refreshing thing he'd heard in a week. That settled it, didn't it?

"Ready for desert, Teddy?" Harry smiled, and not just because of the idea of digging into Fortescue's ice cream.

As Harry walked into the headquarters of Greengrass Trading Co, he couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about where he was; it was Daphne's homecourt, after all.

As he walked through the immaculate glass building to the receptionist, he put on the smoothest smile that he could manage. "Is Regional Manager Greengrass in right now?"

"Yes. Do you have an appointment with her?"

"No, but—"

The lady's smile turned a little sour. "I'm sorry, sir, but Miss Grengrass doesn't take meetings unless you've previously scheduled an appointment with her."

Harry sighed, waving his wand and undoing his disguise charms. "This is really important. Can you tell her that it's for the Potter deal, and I need to speak with her urgently?"

The receptionist's face blanched a little. Harry felt a little sorry for her, she couldn't have been more than a couple years out of school. "Of course, Head Auror. I'll call her right now and notify her that you're here to see her."

A few seconds later, she got off the phone, and her face was more nervous than ever. "Uh, I'm sorry, but she said if you have any business issues you should go to Mr. Greengrass himself. I'm sorry, I can't do more for you; that'd be a breach of my contract."

Harry didn't want to have to resort to this, but he'd prepared for using his backup plan. "Actually, Miss—?"

"McNair."

"Miss McNair." He pulled out a sheet of parchment from his pocket. "Do you see this right here? It's a search warrant for the office of Miss Daphne Greengrass, straight from the DMLE. I'm gonna need you to lead me up there, and nothing will happen. If not… I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you for noncompliance with the law."

McNair read over the parchment before she went completely pale, and she looked up at Harry with wide, fearful eyes to give a quick nod. As he followed her up a special set of stairs—enchanted to move up much more than one floor, no doubt—he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. He didn't really mean to scare her like that, but he really needed to talk to Daphne.

"Here we are, Head Auror. I hope you'll find there's nothing wrong."

"Thank you Miss McNair. I hope you have a wonderful day, thank you for being so helpful."

Harry knocked on Daphne's door, and hearing no reply, opened the door and went in. It was his right to do so, after all, vested by the parchment in his hand.

Daphne looked up, and her face showed genuine surprise before annoyance filled it. "Potter. I thought I told dear Blythe to not let you in."

"You did," Harry said matter-of-factly. "But I had a search warrant for your office."

"You're lying. She said you were here for a business meeting."

Without a word, Harry handed over the parchment.

She looked over with a face betraying worry, before she quickly looked back up at him. "This is bullshit, Potter."

"I don't know what you mean. That's an official Ministry document that's been authenticated by the right person."

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Yes, but you're the person who authenticated this warrant." She looked at the parchment again. "As well as the person who requested it. Potter, does our Auror Office seriously have nothing better to do than to play a practical joke on me?"

Harry put his hands up. "Okay, fine, you got me. But I really just needed a way to get in so I could talk to you."

"I already told you, Potter, our chance for talking is over. I was pretty clear about that, wasn't I?"

"Yes, but—I just needed a chance to say that I'm sorry. For real this time. No shitty business proposals, no bullshit. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, and for a second Harry dared to let himself hope. "And what are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry for running out on you last Sunday. I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper explanation. I'm sorry that I assumed things about you and I'm sorry that I tried to force my apology upon you and I'm sorry that I got mad at you. I'm just—I'm sorry about everything. I was a dick to you, and I messed up, and I probably hurt you in the process."

Daphne sat there for a long time, not saying a word. Finally, she whispered, "What makes you think I'll just accept your apology?"

"You don't have to. You can hate me forever if you'd like to, and I'm sure I wouldn't blame you. Maybe it's because I'm selfish and I need to find a way to absolve my own guilt, I don't know. But I am sorry, truly sorry, and I needed to let you know."

Again, Daphne was silent, this time for even longer, and Harry began to feel awkward standing there. "Well, uh, that's all I had to say. I really hope you'll take my words to be genuine. Thanks for listening to me when you didn't have to." As he turned to leave, however, her words stopped him.

"I wasn't mad that you ran out on me," mumbled Daphne.

"What?"

"I wasn't mad that you ran out on me," she repeated, "I was embarrassed, sure, but I've been through embarrassment before. I can handle it. Besides, I knew it must've been something really important for you to ditch the Ministry ball like that."

She had his full attention now. "But I thought the Pureblood circles—"

"The Pureblood circles will always talk, Potter. Now let me finish." She took in a deep breath. "Like I was saying, I wasn't mad that you ran out on me. I was mad in the way you chose to apologize. As if my feelings could be exchanged for some Galleons and a contract. I was mad that you even sent my father a letter. As if apologizing to him was going to affect my feelings in any way."

She paused, but Harry didn't say anything. She clearly had more to say.

"I don't know who you think I am, Potter. Maybe in your eyes, I seem like a cold, calculating businesswoman." Daphne looked up at him, and his heart broke a little bit when he saw the fragility in her eyes. "But I'm just another human being who has her own fucked up feelings. You can't just pretend like they're not there."

Harry didn't know what to say, but for once he let the words flow straight from his brain to his mouth. "I don't know what to say, but I understand how badly I messed up. I just—I can't put in words how I feel right now, but you're 100% right; I assumed things about you in the worst possible way, and I can't explain why I did it. I—I'm sorry, I don't know what I can say besides I'm sorry, but—"

She interrupted him. "It's okay, you're doing wonderfully right now."

"I am?" Harry was truly bewildered.

"Yes, yes you are. Now, don't mess it up by talking too much."

"Oh… uh, okay."

"Now, I don't forgive you completely, Potter. You were an absolute dick to me and it's going to take a lot more than you storming into my office and saying some words for me to forgive that." She paused, looking thoughtful. "But, I do recognize that you're really sorry about what you've done. And I appreciate you telling me this. Really."

Her voice and manner showed no sign of anything but complete and transparent honesty, and Harry wondered if he was looking at the real Daphne Greengrass for the first time—not just flashes of an emotion, but the real person. Before he could think too long on it, though, she spoke up again.

"Well, is that all, Potter?"

He had one more thing in mind, though he was shocked the meeting had gone this well for him to even suggest it. "Uh, I did have one more request, in the spirit of being open and honest."

"Okay."

"Can you—uh—manage the deal again? I mean, the one you have with me."

"What's the matter? Is working with Father not suiting your needs? I thought you were the one who was asking to work with him," poked Daphne.

"No, no, your father is great, and he obviously knows his stuff. It's just—I know this was your big break and I know a lot of the work that went into it was yours. I'd hate to take that away from you. Plus, I think it'd be a good opportunity for us to," he felt heat rise to his cheeks, "get to know each other a little better?"

Daphne looked like she was pondering the idea for a second, before she nodded. "I suppose Father has enough on his plate, and you are right that taking this deal would be important for my own career." She added quickly, "And yes, the only reason I gave up the deal in the first place was because I feared it would be awkward for us to work together."

Harry smiled; this meeting went far better than he could've hoped for. As he turned to leave, however, there was one more idea in his head that started nagging at him. It was a stupid idea, one that he had only saved for the absolute best case scenario, and not even something he'd seriously considered. Still, the meeting had gone well, hadn't it?

"Auror Potter?" He could see Daphne, but he could already picture her thin-lipped smile. "Have you forgotten how to work a door?"

Fuck it. He'd come into the meeting vowing to be fully open and honest, and so far he'd lived up to his self-imposed promise. Now wasn't the time to stop. Besides, he wasn't a Griffyndor and Sirius Black's godson for nothing, right?

He turned around, and in a voice that was slightly louder than he'd hoped for, said, "Daphne, you're game for getting to know each other better, right?"

She nodded with slightly widened eyes.

"Want to grab dinner with me on Thursday night?"

Her expression of shock reminded him of the last time something like this had happened—two weeks ago, in his own office. She was as openly surprised now as she had been back then.

"Potter, are you asking me out on a date?"

"I—I suppose," he stammered.

"Didn't you come to apologize? And now you have the audacity to ask me out on a date?"

Harry suddenly felt very tight in his skin. "I swear, it's not what you're thinking of. I just thought that maybe it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other in a casual way. Just—you know, Harry Potter wanting to spend some good time with Daphne Greengrass. And despite the way that it ended the last time I said that, I really enjoyed dinner that night. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. I'm sorry, I don't know why I said this." The words came stumbling out of Harry's mouth much too quickly.

For the third time today, Daphne sat in prolonged silence, lost in her own thoughts, and Harry grimaced. They had such an amicable meeting, and he'd gone and blown it by doing something so stupid.

When Daphne finally spoke, every word was pronounced with carefulness. "I'm not free this Thursday night. Pick me up from my office at 6:30 on Friday, and dress casually, Muggle wear will be fine."

Harry wondered if his face looked as surprised as how he was feeling inside.