Chapter Text
After dinner, Mr Greengrass excused himself. “I still have to make some phone calls.” He got up from the table.
His wife grimaced and followed suit. “I've got to make a Floo call. Lucius won't be thrilled that his Abraxan came in last today. He’ll blame it on me, of course, as if I didn't tell him that the beast wasn’t worth the gold he put down for it.”
Mr Greengrass snorted and put an arm around his wife's shoulder in comfort. “That's Lucius Malfoy, he thinks himself better than everyone and at everything. Of course he's a superior judge of Abraxan flesh, too, even though he can't tell apart an Abraxan from a donkey with wings attached.”
That had everyone in the room laugh out loud, even Misty joined in with high-pitched giggles.
“Let me handle him.” Mr Greengrass dropped a kiss on his wife's head. “Out of the two of us, I'm more diplomatic.”
“Thank you, sweetpea.” Mrs Greengrass slung both arms around his midst and squeezed. “I'll make up to you for that.”
Her husband winked at her. “I'll hold you to that.”
Astoria retched, and Daphne rolled her eyes. “Do you really have to be that embarrassing, mum, dad?” she said.
Their parents hugged each other once more, probably to tease their daughters, then Mr Greengrass let go and left the room.
Harry watched his retreating back. Would his parents have been like this, had they lived? He’d love to think so. The way the Greengrasses acted with each other and treated their daughters felt natural and wholesome, for the lack of better words. It was sweet, but had nothing on Aunt Petunia's saccharine sweet attitude that was a show for the neighbours. It was also calming, like a safe haven, and couldn't be compared to the Weasley family with all their shouting and exuberant behaviour. Sure, the Weasleys were a tight-knit family and loved each other dearly, but did they have to be that loud about it?
A hand touched his arm. He jumped, turned around, and looked straight into Daphne's pretty eyes.
“Sorry to have startled you, but you didn't answer when I called your name.” She looked at him with a small crease between her eyebrows, her hand still on his arm. “Are you alright? Or is my family too much for you?”
“I was wool-gathering, sorry. No, your parents are great. It’s just—they made me think about how my parents would be, had they lived.”
Daphne's face softened, and she squeezed his arm. “I'm sure they would've made great parents for you.”
“And probably would've embarrassed me like your parents just did,” Harry said with a grin.
Daphne groaned, let go of his arm, and threw her hands up in a gesture of despair. “They're always like that.” Movement opposite of them caught her eye and she took a brief glance.
Her grandfather leaned towards her grandmother and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“And my grandparents, too. It's disgusting.”
Her grandfather straightened. “We've been a couple for almost fifty years and are still in love. What's so bad about that, miss?”
“Nothing,” Harry answered for his friend who just rolled her eyes. “I wish I'll have something like that one day.” He looked to the ground, while his cheeks became hot. What had got into him? It wasn't like him to confess his heart's desires aloud.
“With a little luck and the right witch, you will, son,” Mr Osborne said.
Hopefully. Harry cast a surreptitious side glance at the girl next to him.
Daphne stood up and gathered the empty plates. Harry hurried to help her.
“A boy who doesn't think it's beneath him to help with kitchen duty, how nice,” Mrs Greengrass said.
Harry shrugged, a stack of plates in both hands. “I grew up with Muggles, and helping with that was one of my chores.”
Mrs Greengrass nodded in approval. “Sometimes, I think the Muggles are doing it better than us when they teach their children to use their hands. It’s character building. We're too pampered by magic and house elves.” She pulled her wand out of her pocket and directed it at the plates in Harry's hand with a smile. “However, that's no excuse to let a guest work.” She muttered something in a low voice, the plates sailed out of Harry's hands and towards the sink where they started to wash themselves, and she stashed her wand back and turned to her family and guest. “Let's go to the family room and have some quiet time.”
The family room was as big as the formal parlour, and also boasted of a fireplace and comfortable looking mismatching sofas and chairs in front of it. Bookcases lined one wall, moving wizarding paintings decorated the space around the fireplace, and French doors led out to the garden that surrounded the house at the side and the back and obscured the stables and the facilities from view.
Astoria walked straight to the bookcases, took out a book, and flopped down on a rug near the fireplace, immediately lost to the world.
Her grandmother regarded her with a shake of her head, a fond smile on her lips. “That girl should have gone to Ravenclaw.” She sat down in one of the comfy chairs and took knitting needles and a ball of wool out of a basket beside her.
Her husband laughed and nodded. He sat down in the chair opposite her, picked up the newspaper that lay on the coffee table between them and pulled out his wand.
“Why does your grandfather need his wand while reading the newspaper?” Harry whispered to Daphne.
“For the crossword riddle, of course,” Daphne said and pulled him down to sit with her on a love seat that stood apart from the main seating area.
How did you do a crossword riddle with a wand? Harry took another look at Mr Osborne.
Daphne's grandfather tapped the empty fields with the tip of his wand, muttering under his breath, and letters appeared in the fields. Mr Osbourne halted, took a double-take with a frown on his face, and cursed.
“Language, honey,” his wife said, selecting another colour from the basket beside her, and gave him a look across the coffee table that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall.
Her husband grunted, turned his wand in his hand, and used the handle on his crossword riddle like an eraser.
“How in the world—” Harry said.
Daphne giggled. “Magic, Harry.” She snuggled closer and leaned against him.
All thoughts of magical crossword riddles went straight out of Harry's head at that. Gods, why was the room so warm all of a sudden? What was he supposed to do? Did he dare put his arm around Daphne's shoulder? How would her family react to that?
He glanced at the other members of the room.
Tori was lost in whatever she was reading, Mr Osborne had his attention firmly on his crossword riddle, and his wife's eyes were glued to the needles in her hands while she counted the stitches under her breath. Daphne's mum lounged in the corner of the sofa next to Mrs Osborne. Her feet rested on a pouf, she had covered herself with an afghan, and her eyes were closed.
Nobody paid attention to Daphne and him.
Harry shifted and put his arm on the backrest of the love seat.
“How were the races, Pittypat?” Mrs Osborne asked Daphne's mum over the soft click-clack of the needles in her hands.
Mrs Greengrass opened her eyes and straightened.
Harry froze. Had Mrs Greengrass noticed what he was about to do?
She yawned and turned to her mother. “Overall, it was a successful day. One winner and three places.”
Harry relaxed. His arm inched down the backrest.
“And Lucius’ runner coming in last,” Mrs Osborne said with a small chuckle. She lowered her knitting needles into her lap and looked up, still laughing.
Harry's arm stopped his way downward, and he held his breath.
“I should have gone to the races with you today. His face must have been priceless,” Mrs Osborne said.
“Oh yes!” Her daughter snorted, but the next moment, her face became serious. “I could have used your diplomatic talent, mum. You know how he is if things don't go his way.”
Mrs Osborne resumed her knitting. “He threatened to take away his Abraxans and send them to your brother-in-law?” she asked with a knowing undertone.
“He's a meanie,” Tori piped up. “That's just like he treats poor Hagrid and Buckbeak.”
Mrs Osborne lowered her knitting needles again and looked at her younger granddaughter. “The gamekeeper, you mean? And who is Buckbeak?”
“Professor Hagrid is the new teacher for Care of Magical Creatures,” Astoria said. “Buckbeak is a Hippogriff that belongs to the herd that lives in the Forbidden Forest.”
Mr Osborne looked up from his crossword riddle at that. “Hippogriffs, you said?” His eyes were wide and alert with interest. “How many are there? And what about that Buckbeard?”
“Buckbeak, gramps.” Astoria corrected him. “Mr Malfoy tries to put him down. But Harry and Daphne will know more about that; it happened during their first lesson with Professor Hagrid.”
All eyes turned to Harry and Daphne.
They both straightened. Daphne shifted to the side as if to put some space between herself and Harry, and Harry pulled his arm off the backrest.
Mrs Greengrass and her mother exchanged a look, the corners of their mouths twitching. Daphne blushed, and Harry's face also became hot. Going by the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, the little menace had directed the attention on them on purpose. Thanks a lot, Tori!
“Tell me more about this Buckbeak,” Mr Osborne said, and learned forward. “What has the beast done to become a victim of Lucius Malfoy's wrath? Shat on his shiny boots, perhaps?”
Harry snorted. Lucius Malfoy really wasn't popular within the Greengrass family.
“Nothing as heinous,” Daphne answered before Harry had recovered. “The animal just acted on its instincts when Draco insulted it and walked up to it without heeding anything Professor Hagrid had taught us minutes before.”
Mrs Osborne raised an eyebrow. “ What got into him? He's your housemate, isn't he? As a Slytherin, he should know not to rush in.”
Now it was Daphne's turn to snort. “There isn't much Slytherin about Draco except that he's a Pureblood.”
“He knows how to get others in trouble and get away with it,” Harry said.
Daphne looked at him with raised eyebrows and a lopsided smile. “That's mostly because Draco is smart enough only to act with Professor Snape close by to back him, and a certain someone I could name falls for every bait he throws.”
Harry grimaced. “You know that Snape hates me.”
“One more reason not to fall for Draco's traps,” Daphne said with a pronounced look at him.
She had a point there, Harry admitted to himself. He ducked and raised his hands in surrender to her reasoning with a sheepish grin. Hermione had told him the same more than once. Maybe it was now time to listen and heed the advice he got from the two smartest witches he knew.
Daphne also grinned and bumped shoulders with him. “However, Draco isn't the only one who gets others into trouble and gets away with it because a professor interferes.”
“You're talking about the twins, aren't you?” Harry said. “Just for the record, I also wasn't happy when Professor Dumbledore stepped in to prevent them from Professor McGonagall's wrath after their prank on your house.”
“Was that why you didn't join us for Christmas?” Mrs Osborne lowered her knitting needles and looked from Daphne to Astoria.
“Yes; they gave all Slytherins Gryffindor-red hair, and nobody could reverse it.”
“Are you telling me that neither Minerva McGonagall nor Albus could reverse a prank spell school boys cast?” Mrs Osborne sniffed. “That's preposterous!” She picked up her knitting needles again, as if to mark her point.
“Professor McGonagall tried, but failed,” Harry said.
“So did Professor Snape.” Daphne nodded to his words. “The headmaster didn't even draw his wand.”
Her statement sent a jolt of sudden realisation through Harry. Professor Dumbledore had just sat on his throne-like chair and chuckled to the mayhem the twins had caused. His head whipped around to look at Daphne. “Are you implying that—”
“He also saved them from Professor McGonagall's wrath,” she replied.
That was true. However—
“What if he realised sooner than Professors Snape and McGonagall that the usual counters wouldn't work? These are the twins, you know how devious they are. And what if he decided not to step in because it would destroy the Christmas joy?”
“Probably, and taking in stride that he spoiled the Christmas fun for Slytherin,” Daphne said with a huff.
That had the three adults in the room gasping and staring at them with wide eyes.
“What, by Merlin's shrivelled b—beard is going on in that school of yours?” Mr Osborne exploded.
His wife gave him a reproachful look, gathered the wool-thread, and said, “That's something I also like to know, and I'm sure that Matthew and Venetia will have words with the headmaster about that.”
Mrs Greengrass nodded to that, her lips pressed together.
“However,” Mrs Osborne sniffed again, “I refuse to believe that two school boys can come up with a prank that defies all counters, no matter how talented they are.”
Harry and Daphne exchanged a look. “You don't know the twins!” they said unison.
Mrs Osborne reacted to that with a snort.
“They are right, granny.” Astoria scrambled to her feet and glared at her grandmother. “They are a menace, nobody dares standing up against them.”
“If you say so, Bobble,” Mrs Osborne said, her attention firmly back on the knitting needles.
A dangerous gleam appeared in Astoria’s eyes. The next second, it was gone. “I'm going to bed,” she announced with a yawn that looked fake to Harry.
Mrs Osborne looked up from her knitting and smiled at her. “Good night, Bobbles.”
“Sleep well, Thumbkin,” Mr Osborne said over the rim of his crossword riddle.
Harry shook with suppressed laughter and got Daphne's pointy elbow in his side for his efforts.
Mrs Greengrass cast the afghan aside and stood up. She walked to her younger daughter and took her in her arms. “Sweet dreams, Honeybun.” She placed a kiss on Astoria's forehead.
“Good night, Astoria,” Daphne called, emphasising her sister’s name.
A snort escaped Harry’s nose, which he hastily masked as a cough.
“Good night, Daphne,” Astoria said, then glared at him. “Nighty night, boy-wonder.” She left the room and closed the door behind her to the soft laughter of her grandparents and mother.
Daphne tried to hide her amusement and failed.
“You're right, she's a little shit,” Harry said under the cover of her delightful giggles, but also had to fight a grin. “I wonder what she's up to, though.”
Daphne stopped laughing and gave a surreptitious side glance to her mother and grandparents, who were already discussing something else and paid them no heed. “You noticed?”
“It was kinda hard to miss.”
“Uh-huh,” she hummed. Her gaze lingered on the door that had closed behind Astoria. "Whatever it is, we will find out soon.”
There was an ominous tone in her voice that made him chuckle. “Should I be afraid?”
She turned her head and looked him straight into the eyes. “Yes.”
The laughter died on his lips. All he could do was gape at her.
“You'd better prepare yourself for anything, Harry.”
t.b.c.