Story Ideas 40

A Helping Hand

Harry had been at Hogwarts for all of a week before a pretty blonde in Slytherin robes grabbed him between classes and hauled him into an empty classroom. For a moment, he feared he was about to be hexed. Even though he didn't know any spells yet, he still reached for his wand.

"Potter, I need your help," the girl said.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I need your hand to get rid of Malfoy. He won't stop bothering me."

Harry didn't know how he could help her get Malfoy to leave her alone. But if there was one thing he hated, it was bullies.

"Er, okay."

Daphne smiled brightly, kissed him on the cheek.

Blushing brightly, he watched her skip from the room. He raised a hand to touch his cheek, and then look back at where she'd vanished in confusion. She'd never told him how he could help.

Two days later, Harry was called into Dumbledore's office. McGonagall, Daphne, and a man he didn't know were already waiting for him.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Please, come have a seat. There's something we need to discuss. Is it true that you promised Ms. Greengrass your hand?"

Harry shuffled guiltily in his seat. Maybe he should've listened to Hermione and gone to a professor.

"She said Malfoy was bothering her," he said in his own defense. "I just offered to give her a hand so he'd leave her alone, but I haven't done anything yet!"

"No, not a hand," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. "I meant your hand. As in marriage."

Harry paled, his stomach dropped into his shoes, and his a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"And you agreed?" the man asked, pinning him with his pale blue eyes.

"Er, well, yes, but-"

"Then it's settled," he interrupted before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a scroll. "I have a marriage contract here. If you'll just-"

"Oh, come now, Gareth," Dumbledore said humorously. "You know as well as I an eleven year old can't enter into a contract. Let's give it a few years and see what happens. Until then, if Mr. Potter agrees, they can simply tell Mr. Malfoy there is a contract. Harry?"

Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, sure, professor," he said. "We can do that."

Daphne glared at him, but eventually nodded. Harry had no way she would spend the next seven years doing everything she could to make sure he signed that contract before they left Hogwarts.