The Tiniest Wish: Motherly Affections, part 43

Rating: T+

Summary: Madam Bullstrode's reaction

A patter of applause rose throughout the hall, combined with pleasant laughter,

and excited gossip, as several rose to congratulate Millicent... both for Harry's strong performance,

and for their perceived cunning.

Everyone in the room, including Madam Bullstrode, recognized that

with Harry's social and political standing,

as the Boy who Lived and the soon-to-be heir of an Ancient and Noble family,

the Bullstrodes had been virtually trapped in a betrothal agreement by the declaration.

It was in fact the primary purpose of the ancient formula -

to announce the desires of an aristocratic family -

to virtually steal the daughter of a usually lower standing house

( in terms of political, financial, and often military power) -

behind a veil of civility so that the family could turn the daughter over

before the higher placed family took more drastic measures.

Like the blood adoption that Harry had simultaneously announced,

though rarely performed, the formula was still honored - and often

idealized as the romantic quest of those matched by true love - instead of planning-

who recognized that their actions might fly in the face of both their families,

hence the clear reminder of family status at the beginning of the form.

Motherly Affections, Part 43

"Come Millie," Madame Bullstrode finally caught up with her daughter and Harry moments after Harry's adopted father left them. "It's time for us to go."

"Please, Ms. Bullstrode, can't Millicent stay just a short while longer?" Potter whinged.

"No!" Cynthia Bullstrode answered, pulling her daughter away sharply, and barely refraining from an angry growl.

At first, she had been thoroughly elated at her daughter's very unexpected coupe, but as she had considered the matter more and more, barely aware of the mincey repast that Narcissa's elves were dropping at her table with poor practice, Madame Bullstrode had grown more and more irritable. Potter was an phenomenal political and social match for Millie personally.

Well, in truth, even grumpy Crouch would have been a far better match than Millie could have had any reason to hope for, being as plain and impertinent as she was, but Crouch hadn't been interested in the slightest, rebuffing her with an incensed assertion that he was not a paedarast- as if she had made such vile a comment. More likely, Crouch was casting aspersions on her daughter's unfeminine appearance and clumsy bearing, but still it was a very uncouth comment to make.

Cynthia had never bothered to hope that Millicent would have even the most marginal chance of catching Potter; it had been an almost impossible wish, but she had hoped that she and Millicent's father could take advantage of their daughter's friendship with the boy to find the girl a moderately influential match of some advantage. Now that the impossible had happened, only now, did Madam Bullstrode recognize how impossible it truly was: an inconceivable, inexplicable mistake that she couldn't think how to get her daughter out of, now that it had – against all probability- happened.

Millicent, the foolish girl, had, undoubtedly, assumed that her parents would be pleased with her rash decision to somehow trap the boy into a marriage proposal, with no true grasp of the complications. Had Potter simply been a well-to-do orphan, well, that would have been easily handled with a minimum of fuss. The boy seemed malleable enough, so readily grasping to the loathsome Professor as his guardian, that they could have had Millicent installed as his heir and him either manipulated into an advantageous position that they could reap the benefits of - or quietly subjected to a debilitating accident landing him in St. Mungos for what remained of his life - however long or short it best suited their fortunes to be.

But, no, Millicent had to barter herself off to the clingy charge of Severus Snape, a former Death-Eater, who had been well feared even in their ranks for his viciousness, cunning, and worse his complete unwillingness even minor slights. Regardless of how little Snape actually valued the boy's welfare, he would, without question, take it as a personal insult, if he suspected that the Bullstrodes had even considered taking advantage of his charge.

Worse yet, it was well known that Snape was Lucius’s puppet, and Lucius’ - Narcissa’s veritable slave. Madam Bullstrode was absolutely certain that the grasping witch had intricate plans to take advantage of both the boy’s influence and wealth, and now, their stupid daughter had just made herself one more pawn to the egotistical witch’s ego.

There was only one chance she saw that they might have any opportunity to take advantage of their daughter’s foolhardy decision, and that was to get the girl home so that her father could cast a few… useful spells on her. Oh, Millicent most likely wouldn’t want to cooperate, but her father knew several ways, and spells to get around her reticence. First, she had to get the obstinate girl home, though, despite tradition, and if it didn’t happen soon…

“Mrs. Bullstrode,” a dry, stern voice caught Cynthia by surprise as she closed her nails on her daughter’s wrist. “My grandson indicated that you were a pureblood?”

“Yes,” Cynthia nearly snarled, only barely keeping her voice in civil tones by digging her unexpressed frustration into her daughter’s wrist.

“And you received instruction in the traditional forms?”

“Yes, of course?” Cynthia realized where the withered woman’s questions were headed, but groped for time to think of some alternative.

“Proper instruction?” Madam Snape’s tone had almost the same sneering derision that characterized her loathsome son’s tone and always rankled Cynthia’s nerves, but somehow, Cynthia managed, just barely to maintain her temper.

“Of course, I’ve received proper instruction. Where do you think that my daughter learned all of the fine manner’s that she tutored your grandson in? Didn’t the boy and your son just acknowledge that in front of everyone?” Cynthia’s temper slipped slightly, and her daughter hissed under her breath when Cynthia’s nails dug just a little too deeply, but as it was all the girl’s fault, she quickly dismissed the complaint.

“Hmm. Yes, Millicent possesses both a keen sense and demonstration of traditional etiquette; I was quite surprised.” Snape’s scathing gaze ran up and down Cynthia, making her insult clear.

Cynthia had no opening to respond without drawing more attention to the fact that she was attempting to skirt away with her daughter, despite the fact that the betrothal’s tradition prevented it.

Seeming to recognize her dilemma, Snape smiled truculently, and suggested in an oily tone, “Why don’t you join Millicent and I as we select an appropriate suite for her?”

“Really, that is not necessary, Millicent can as easily stay at home until the …”

“Nonsense, even if my son were not the traditionalist, which I assure you, he is - by form, tradition, and family custom, the Princes have always wished to initiate a future bride in her duties to her new family as well as the family traditions that are not made public, so that when she ultimately bonds with her husband they will be well prepared to uphold the Prince Legacy - no matter how close or far they settle.”

Cynthia nearly cringed at the blunt challenge and released her hold on Millicent, pulling her daughter by the wrist and practically throwing her at the older woman.

“Here then, she’s yours. Don’t think of returning her though when you realize what a bad bargain you’ve made. She’s never been anything but trouble.” Without another word, Cynthia spun on her heel and rushed out. She knew she might have been a bit colder than … perhaps even a bit cruel, but her daughter had always been a disappointment, and she had her husband to deal with when she got home.

Had she turned, and seen the pained emptiness and resignation in her daughter’s eyes, she might have hesitated, at least to soften her words, but probably not, and Millicent knew better than to even expect her to turn.

In a voice that barely quavered, she turned to Harry’s grandmother and murmured, “I won’t need a suite, Ma’am. I spend most of the year at school and … at home… I …”

She couldn’t finish, but wouldn’t let herself break down, not even in front of Harry, so just nodded and followed when Ms. Snape lead them to wing that Narcissa and Lucius had built on to the Manor as a wedding present to the Professor and Ms. Snape – so that they would have a second home whenever they felt like visiting for Christmas, holidays, or just so that the Draco and Harry could catch up with each other.

A/N: My apologies for the short chapter and longer delay between. I’m really bushed with my jobs and business, and don’t know how soon I might be able to post again, but wanted to at least give you a brief taste of things to come. Up Next: The Malfoy-Snape Christmas with unexpected guests, Narcissa's reactions, and a note from the Ministry.