The Devil in Me
Living a Dream That I Can't Hold
The chapter title is from the song:
Top of the World by Greek Fire.
~ WARNING ~
Explicit content M/F [Harry x Daphne]
"Are you sure you want to spend Imbolc with me and not with your family?" Harry was asking as he shut his trunk.
Daphne threw on a lace cardigan and gave him a long look, "I've already told you – yes. I've spent Imbolc with my family every year. It will be nice to see how the Malfoy's do things."
"Yes, for both of us because this is my first Imbolc, ever," Harry said, smiling at her and looking over at the fireplace, "Artemis, are you coming?" he hissed in parseltongue.
Artemis raised her head lazily, "I like it here."
"I know you do, but this is a family occasion. There will be feasting and fires; you will like it," Harry hissed in return.
Artemis shook her head slowly, "Bring me a gift when you return; I am hungry."
Harry rolled his eyes and held out his arm to Daphne, "I swear that snake is sassier than me."
"Well, you are her sole role model," Daphne pointed out with a smirk, hooking her arm through Harry's as they left together, their trunks hovering behind them as they did so.
Imbolc was a festival centred around a cross-quarter day – it marked the midpoint between Yule (the Winter Solstice) and Ostara (the Spring Equinox). It was an important one for couplings because it was all about the hearth and home. Hence, Harry inviting Daphne to spend it with him was a big deal.
"So, will it just be the Malfoys and us?" Daphne asked while they strolled through the grounds.
"Us, the Malfoy's, Sadie-"
"Well, at least there will be someone I like there," Daphne cut in.
Harry chuckled, "Tom and Lily."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, "As in Tom and Lily, separately?"
"No," Harry said, giving Daphne an amused look, "Tom and Lily together, as a partnership."
"Wow," Daphne mused, "That's big."
"Huge," Harry agreed with a smile.
He dropped her arm, "Meet you there?"
Daphne spun on her heel in response, and Harry chuckled, following her to the manor.
The manor was as chaotic as it was packed – Lucius was wandering around rolling his eyes and kicking house-elves who got in his way. Narcissa was calling out demands about food, candles, decorations and all sorts to the elves.
Tom and Lily had opted to stay out of the way by locking themselves in Tom's study, which left Harry saddled with Amalthea while Narcissa commanded the house. Harry didn't know what they were talking about or researching, but if he were going to hazard a guess, he would have said it related to the conversation he and Tom had just had about Horcruxes.
Daphne had done a great job of distracting Sadie in the games room for most of the afternoon, and Draco was hiding from his mother in the grounds. For once, Harry didn't blame him.
When she had a feast or a party to plan, Narcissa was worse than Molly Weasley when she was on a rampage.
This was how Harry had ended up in the nursery at the top of the house, rocking Amalthea in his arms as he sat in a large, comfortable armchair. It was where he had sat with her just a month or so earlier when she was a newborn – back when Tom had asked him to be her godfather.
Harry ended up lost in thought as he looked down at the silvery haired baby. If anyone had asked him where he expected to be at this time last year, he definitely wouldn't have said 'rocking Lord Voldemort's child to sleep because he's too chicken to deal with Narcissa Malfoy'.
Do you blame me?
The thought drifted candidly into his head, and Harry smiled. He lay his head against the back of the chair and shut his eyes.
No, but I'm not actually your personal baby whisperer, you know?
There was a pause, and then, She will not be so young and frail forever. One day, you will help me train her to be strong.
Harry thought about that for a moment. His mind drifted to Imbolc, which was all about cleansing – out with the old and in with the new. Sometimes he felt like he needed that in his life.
As do I.
Harry frowned. You seem very thoughtful lately, Tom. Is there something you know that Lily and I don't?
There was a pause, and Harry thought Tom had shut him out. He opened his eyes and looked down.
Amalthea was fast asleep, her tiny mouth open in an 'o' and her eyelids fluttering as if she were dreaming.
I can feel myself changing. I once believed that I would never feel a moment of genuine remorse, but now I fear that I will.
Harry kept his eyes on Amalthea as her father's voice filled his head.
I must prepare for the inevitable, Harry because I only have one chance to reverse what I have done.
And with that, Tom shut him out. Harry let out a sigh, a conflicted one. On the one hand, he wanted Tom to put his soul back together – to be the powerful, intelligent man he had met in the chamber of secrets. But on the other hand, he didn't know what he would do if Tom tried to do so and failed.
If Tom died, that left Harry in charge. Of not only this entire operation but of the little girl in his arms.
It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that Harry lowered Amalthea into her crib and left the room. He called an elf to look after her, and it seemed relieved to be free from Narcissa's demands.
Harry shook his head in amusement and headed to his bedroom, the feast would be starting soon, and it was traditional to have a 'cleansing' bath on Imbolc, again with the purifying aspect of the festival.
He stepped into the room and frowned when he smelled cinnamon, "Uh…Daphne?"
"In the bathroom," Daphne called back.
Harry stepped over the threshold and stopped in his tracks when he saw her – the bathroom was full of candles, incense was burning, which was where the cinnamon scent had come from and in the middle of the room, Daphne was in the large bubble bath.
"You…" he trailed off, trying to find words, "You have your own room," he eventually got out.
"I know I do," Daphne said, a teasing smile on her lips, "But you invited me for Imbolc, so I thought we ought to do the tradition properly," she said, gesturing to the bath.
He knew what she meant, but his brain was a bit slow to connect the dots, "But…we're not married."
"Yet," Daphne agreed, "But we will be."
Harry stared at her for a minute longer.
"I'm starting to think you don't want to bathe with me, Harry."
Harry snapped himself out of the haze and shook his head, "No, I do, I really do."
She smiled up at him, "I'm waiting for you."
Harry shivered and made quick work out of stripping. He didn't know if it was the incense or the occasion, but he could get used to Daphne being this demanding.
All the same, Harry wasted no time in getting into the bath with her. When he did, his skin tingled from whatever she had put in it, but it wasn't in a bad way. He sighed contently and leant back, instinctively rubbing his leg against hers.
Daphne grabbed a blue tub from the side of the bath and ran her finger through it – Harry knew what it was – some sort of paint used to place runes on the body for certain rituals. She moved across the bath to kneel above him and painted the 'Imbolc' symbol on his chest.
He held his breath while she did so because it was hard to control his urges when she was this close and this naked. When she had finished, she handed him the tub and whispered, impossibly seductively, "Your turn."
Harry swallowed and ran his finger through the tub then looked down – she was completely naked, her pert, round breasts were visible above the waterline, and no amount of control stopped Harry's physical reaction to that.
He gave himself a shake and drew the symbol – a half moon-like shape – on her chest, dropping his hand as soon as it was complete.
Daphne gave him an amused look, apparently impressed with his level of control. Then she lowered herself to sit in his lap, and Harry groaned involuntarily.
"Daphne," He gasped, "What are you-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Daphne kissed him, and Harry's mind went blissfully blank. All he could focus on were her lips against his – on the softness of them. His hands roamed up her body, wet and slippery from the bath and its oily additives. He couldn't quite get a grip on her, but he didn't want to either; he wanted to feel every inch of her body.
Although Daphne was, for the most part, taking control, Harry couldn't stop himself from deepening the kiss by placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her closer, she opened her mouth in a small moan, and he slid his tongue against hers. It wasn't a battle for control, more like a gentle brushing, just like the way she moved above him. God, he was painfully hard.
"Daphne," Harry groaned, breaking the kiss, "Daphne, if you don't want to have sex, that's fine, but I'm not a priest. I can't-"
Daphne moved against him again, and Harry let his head fall back against the bath. He breathed in sharply when he felt her lips against his neck.
With a guttural groan, he ground out, "I can't hold back if you keep doing this to me."
Daphne laughed – in a carefree way, not her usual sarcastic chuckle or amused smirk.
Then all of a sudden, the pressure of her body on his was gone, and he wanted it back that instant. He opened his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control as she got out of the bath, but that just set his heart racing again.
He had felt parts of her body. He had seen and touched parts of her, but he had never seen her entirely naked before, and it just made his 'painfully hard' stance all the more painful. She was beautiful and radiant – long, slender legs, curves in all of the right places, and as she shook her hair out of her bun and let it fall to her mid-back, Harry genuinely wondered if he was marrying a goddess.
"I'll meet you in the bedroom," She said, her voice smooth as silk.
Harry stared in awe as she pulled on a towelled robe and padded out of the bathroom into his bedroom.
It didn't take Harry long to get out of the bath and throw a towelled robe onto himself.
When he entered his bedroom, he realised Daphne had lit candles there too, and the same incense was burning. It gave the room a hazy feeling, and although Harry had never taken drugs, he had the feeling that this is what it would feel like to be high.
And there – lying in the middle of his bed – was Daphne Greengrass, entirely naked with the Imbolc symbol marked across her chest.
His breath caught when she beckoned him over, but he dropped the robe and moved across the room in a shot, crawling up the bed until his face hovered above hers.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Harry saw the tiniest flicker of doubt in her eyes, past the confidence that she usually oozed. He lowered his head and kissed her softly, parting her lips with his tongue and breathing in the soft moan that his actions elicited.
He could feel her body relax beneath him, and he knew – from all the preparation that had gone into this – that she had been planning it for a while. The combined scents he could smell burning were cinnamon, frankincense, and myrrh, all designed to promote magical strength and cleansing.
Daphne wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and brought him closer so that his body was resting above hers. For someone who claimed to be so cold, she emanated so much heat, and it was the warmth of her bare skin against his that made him moan against her lips.
Harry ran his hand down her body slowly, giving Daphne every chance to back out if she wanted to – he didn't want to push her. He had felt that way from the get-go. He pressed a kiss to her neck as he ran his fingers through the fine hair between her thighs and moved his thumb over her clit.
Daphne whimpered softly, and the sound sent a wave of arousal through Harry. She was slick and aroused, her entire body slippery from the oils in the bath, so Harry cautiously slipped one finger into her, revelling in the tight heat he felt. He moved his mouth lower, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and then reaching her breasts.
She let out a soft cry when Harry took a nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, expertly, "Harry," she gasped, arching her body up towards him.
Harry moved up her body, "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, meeting her eye.
If she looked at all unsure, it wasn't doubt that caused it; it was fear.
"Yes," Daphne said quietly, "Just…remember that I've waited for an occasion like this for a reason, so-"
Harry stopped her with a kiss, murmuring against her lips, "I'll be gentle," he kissed her again, "I would never hurt you."
His words relaxed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him hard to distract herself from the inevitable pain that was to come.
Harry wasn't stupid. He knew what she meant when she said 'an occasion like this'. Daphne was a traditionalist at heart; she had wanted to wait for Imbolc for a reason. This wasn't just any sex, it was ritualistic sex, and because she was a virgin, it would make the ritual and the magic contained within it all the more powerful.
Harry's heart was beating wildly as he reached down and positioned himself, kissing Daphne all the while to keep her distracted – it was as he deepened the kiss, getting a genuine gasp from her, that he edged forward and slipped into her.
She tensed up immediately, but Harry ran his thumb across her cheek, "It's okay," he promised breathily as he moved slowly.
Daphne grimaced and opened her eyes, moving her hands down his body, "Just get it over with," she said quickly.
Harry would usually have hesitated, but he was as desperate as she was, so he gave her a small nod and pushed into her in one smooth thrust. And despite her emotional strength, Daphne let out a cry of pain, her nails digging into Harry's back as she tensed.
With a gasp, Harry paused and rested his head against her forehead. He closed his eyes, feeling guilty for the tears he knew were welling in her eyes. Despite the guilt, it was hard to ignore the feeling of pure pleasure coursing through him – she was impossibly tight, and her body trembled beneath him.
Daphne whimpered as Harry throbbed inside her – whether that was out of pain or pleasure, he wasn't quite sure.
After a long moment, Harry opened his eyes and looked into hers – they seemed bluer for the fresh tears she had shed, "Are you okay? Does it still hurt?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"It's okay," Daphne assured him.
Harry moved slowly, and Daphne whimpered again, "It's much better," she promised.
It was pathetic – he'd had sex with other people before Daphne Greengrass. He had done dirty things (that would make Daphne's toes curl) to Reyna – but this topped everything before it. He knew that he wouldn't last long from the way he was already struggling to control himself.
As Harry moved more vigorously, Daphne's whimpers turned to moans. She threw her head back, her hair splayed out around her – and he couldn't help but come back to that thought that she looked like a goddess.
Harry lay kisses on her neck and chest as he moved inside her, fighting his instincts to make sure that he didn't hurt her.
"Merlin, Daphne," He moaned against her neck, "I won't-" she wrapped her arms around him, running her nails down his back, and Harry groaned loudly, "I won't last long; you're so tight."
Daphne brought a hand to his face, kissing him lightly and then panting between his thrusts, "That's the point, why I kept my virginity for the man I was going to marry," she arched her back, pressing her body up into his and moaned, "First blood, adds to the power of the ritual."
Her words made Harry harder than he thought possible. He knew he couldn't last much longer, so he sped up his pace, and Daphne's moans got louder, becoming cries of pleasure.
Harry slid his hand between their bodies and lowered it down, pressing his fingers against her clit as he had earlier. Daphne cried out louder than ever, and Harry knew that she was as close as he was.
The nature of the ritual required a 'mutual' climax, but he doubted that would be a problem, somehow.
When Harry's movements began to get erratic, Daphne gripped him hard, "The words, remember the words."
Harry pressed his fingers against the Imbolc symbol on her chest, which miraculously hadn't smudged – the power of magic on a night such as this.
"I bind myself to you, Daphne Greengrass, entirely," he said, his eyes on hers as he spoke the words, his voice low and husky with want.
Daphne reached up and placed two fingers against the Imbolc symbol on his chest; she breathed in shakily and then managed to get the words out in one breath, "I bind myself to you, Harry Potter."
"Fuck," Harry hissed, lowering himself to kiss her and moving his right hand up to rest over hers.
Daphne intertwined her fingers with his, her breath as shaky as his movements were erratic. The air around them seemed to freeze when Harry tipped Daphne over the edge then followed her over. His hand burned against hers, and she grabbed his other hand in her ice-cold one.
They seemed to be encased in the haze of the incense, and the fireball forming in Harry's hand floated out of reach without his control. A ball of ice floated up to join it from Daphne's hand, and the two merged. It caused waves of magic and consequentially pleasure to ripple through Harry and Daphne as the ball above them became a ball of light – it burned brighter and brighter until they couldn't take it anymore, and darkness fell.
Harry wasn't sure how long they blacked out for, but he had the craziest dream while he was out.
It started with a little blonde girl running around the grounds of a house that looked somehow familiar. It wasn't until her mother scooped the little girl up that Harry realised that it was Daphne.
He had known that the ritual would enable magic binding and sharing of some sort, but he hadn't realised that their memories were a part of that. However, as he got a play-by-play of Daphne's life, he learned quite how powerful the magic had been.
Upon the memory of Daphne locking eyes with him across Malfoy Manor's grounds during the Midsummer celebrations, Harry was woken up with a jolt.
He figured that they hadn't blacked out for long because they were in the same position, both still breathing heavily – the curtains around the four-poster bed still swaying in an invisible wind.
Harry moved aside to lie next to her, "Did you…"
Daphne nodded, her eyes as wide as his, "I didn't know about that part."
"No, neither did I," Harry admitted, lying on his back as he tried to catch his breath, "Is it because of the magic being stronger? Because you were a virgin?"
Daphne sucked in a breath, "No, I don't think so. That should have just meant that we can share elemental magic now."
Harry turned his head to the side, "Huh?"
"You should be able to manipulate ice and water the way I can," She said by way of explanation.
Harry gave a brief nod and sat up, feeling a little dizzy, "Right."
Daphne watched him warily. For a fraction of a second, she doubted her decision when he pulled a robe on. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to walk away.
But he didn't. Harry stepped into the bathroom and emerged with a bowl of warm water from the bath, it seemed because it smelled of the same herbs and incense that Daphne had put in it earlier.
From one of the cupboards, he took a cloth and dipped it in the water, then he sat down on the edge of the bed and ran it across Daphne's skin. It had a soft numbing effect – leaving a tingle in its wake, as the bath had earlier – it was purifying.
Daphne let out a soft sigh of relief as Harry moved it over her skin. Starting at her chest and moving it downwards, she stiffened up a little when he reached the area that the pain was emanating from, but as he had promised, Harry was gentle, and when he was finished, the pain was a distant memory.
Harry wrung the cloth out and offered her a towelled robe, for modesty – not that it mattered much now. She put it on and sat up in his bed gingerly, glancing down at the bloodstain on the sheet.
"Don't worry about that," Harry murmured, kissing her lightly and vanishing it away with a click of his fingers.
Daphne kissed him back, "Sorry for surprising you."
Harry drew back and smiled, "You're sorry, after that? Really?"
"It was risky," Daphne confessed, "Technically, we should have waited until the first cross-quarter day or solstice after our marriage because you know that the ritual doesn't work with the protection spells, but…with the war? I thought it was better we did it now."
"To strengthen your magic or mine?" Harry asked softly, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Both," Daphne answered honestly. She slipped her hand into his, "But if I'm honest? For you, more than me. You're the one who insists on putting himself in danger."
Harry sighed and tore his eyes away from hers, "I don't deserve that. I don't deserve your kindness, and I didn't deserve to be the person you gave that to tonight."
"Hey," Daphne said, her hand on his cheek and her eyes boring into his, "I decide who is worthy of me, not you."
She gave him a soft smile, "And I think nature agrees with me on that one from the show that we put on just now."
Harry managed a small smile at that, "You're right, though. It was risky."
Daphne nodded, biting her swollen lip, "Let's just hope we're lucky."
"If we aren't, we can always say that you are just fulfilling tradition and following in your mother and sisters footsteps," Harry teased, a small genuine smile coming to his lips.
Daphne bit back a laugh, "That's not funny."
"If it's not funny, why are you struggling not to laugh?"
Daphne swiped her hand at him, but he grabbed it before it connected with his face, and he used it to pull her towards him, kissing her fiercely and knocking the breath from her lungs.
"I love you."
"I know," Daphne said, a teasing smile on her lips.
"No, I mean it," Harry said, his gaze was intense, "It's not just words; I mean it."
"I know," She said, her voice soft and her eyes gleaming happily, "And I love you too."
"You do?"
"I do."
"What do you think Harry and Daphne are doing?"
Draco snorted and looked across the lounge at Sadie. She was sitting in an armchair with her knees drawn underneath her while Draco had opted to lie across the chaise lounge dramatically.
"Knowing those two? Something that they shouldn't be doing until they're married."
Sadie frowned and closed her book, "I don't understand them, you know?"
This caught Draco's attention, "How so?"
"Well, Daphne is a traditionalist and a pureblood," Sadie said, "She's always been quite open about her values. She got the nickname the Ice Queen because she rebuffed boys so she could preserve herself for marriage."
"Yeah," Draco said slowly, wondering where Sadie was going with this.
"But Harry is a bit of a heathen," Sadie said matter of factly.
Draco sniggered.
"I'm serious!"
"I know," Draco said, fighting back a grin, "You're right. He's a total heathen, a beast, actually."
Sadie cocked her head at him, "You're incorrigible!"
"And you sound like Hermione Granger."
Sadie got up and stalked over to him, "You're just like him, aren't you?"
At this, Draco frowned, "Who? Harry? No, I'm nothing like him."
Sadie gave him a sceptical look, and Draco sat up straight, "I'm not!" he argued, "I am the epitome of a perfect pureblood heir."
"Yeah, right," Sadie said.
Draco rolled his eyes, "How much clearer do you need me to make this, Cauldwell? I'm a bloody virgin; I've not had sex."
"Never?"
"Ever."
Sadie sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge, "Me either."
"Yeah, I figured that from the judgemental nature of your accusations," Draco said, quirking up an eyebrow, "Yes – Harry is a heathen, sleeping his way through junior Death Eaters before committing himself to Daphne, but he wasn't brought up the way that you and I were."
"I know fine well your father was impure before he married your mother," Sadie argued.
"And who do you think did the majority of my schooling before Hogwarts?" Draco asked, smiling slightly.
Sadie chuckled, "Your mother?"
"My mother," Draco confirmed with a fond smile, "Don't get me wrong, I love my father, but I am perfectly aware of his many, many, flaws."
At this, Sadie let out a reluctant laugh.
"But it was my mother who taught me about double standards," Draco finished, "And she's right. Why is it fair for girls to keep themselves pure for marriage while men swan around doing the kind of shit Harry did?"
"It isn't," Sadie said.
"Exactly," Draco said, smiling at her.
Sadie smiled back, and the two of them couldn't deny the spark in the air. The magic around the cross-quarter day just magnified the natural attraction that they both tried to ignore.
Draco decided to take the leap since this might be the last chance he got for a while, so he got to his feet and cupped Sadie's face in his hands, leaning down to brush a chaste kiss against her lips.
Sadie pressed herself up a little, Draco being a fair bit taller than her, and she returned the kiss, brushing her lips against his a little more forcefully. Neither of them was quite sure who had deepened the kiss, but it became a blur when Sadie threw her arms around his neck, and Draco came to the unwelcome realisation that he had to breath. He broke the kiss and rested his lips against her forehead as she stayed close to him.
He closed his eyes, his heart beating wildly. It was a nice moment until Harry ruined it.
"Took you long enough."
Sadie jumped away from Draco, her cheeks a delightful shade of red that contrasted against the loose, full-length white dress she wore; it was embroidered with winter flowers.
Daphne chuckled from Harry's side and murmured a spell to fix Sadie's lipstick.
Harry grinned, "Might want to sort that out before the feast, Drakey," he said, motioning to the lipstick on Draco's face.
Draco vanished it away and tried to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks, "Not wearing white?" he asked, directing the question at Daphne.
Daphne wore a long-sleeved dark brown bodysuit with a flowing navy skirt made of lace and silk like the traditional Imbolc dresses.
Harry bit back a grin when Daphne gave Draco a polite smile and said, "Well, I'm not sure it would be pertinent anymore."
Draco shot Sadie an amused look, "What were we just saying?"
"Oh, you were talking about us?" Harry asked calmly, "Is that before or after you started snogging each other's faces off?"
"Oh shut up, you prick," Draco returned weakly.
"Boys! You had better not be arguing," Narcissa's voice called from the hall.
"No, Mum," and "No, Mother," were the responses – one said sarcastically.
"Harry James Potter – do not use that tone with me!"
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco, "Reckon it's feast time?"
"Are you going to stop gossiping and join us for the feast?"
"How does she do that?" Harry muttered as the quartet crossed the hall into the dining room where the Imbolc Feast was laid out before them.
Everyone was dressed in their best robes or traditional dresses, even Lily. She wore a deep blue silk and lace dress, and interestingly enough, the seating order was different than usual.
Tom was not sitting at the head of the table. Lucius was. Harry supposed that was Tom's way of showing he accepted that this was Lucius's house now and that he was here as a guest.
Draco seated Sadie, then sat down by her side, and Harry did the same for Daphne.
"Amalthea is far too interested in sleep to join us, but we shall raise our first glass of mead to her," Narcissa said, holding up a small glass of an amber coloured liquid, "Imbolc is all about new starts after all, and she is most definitely that."
"Indeed," Harry said, looking to his left at Tom as he rose his glass.
"To Amalthea."
Tom toasted his daughter and drank the mead. Harry noticed a look and a slight smile that was exchanged between himself and Lily after the toast. He couldn't help but wonder what those secretive looks meant.
You simply believe us to be hiding something because you did something you should not have done earlier this evening.
Harry blamed the mead for the flush in his cheeks. I put the beetle in before the main event. She shocked me with the bath thing, sorry.
Tom smirked in amusement, I know. I could feel quite how shocked you were. It gave me great amusement.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his glass of mead was refilled to toast Saint Brigid – a witch and healer who was celebrated at this time of year.
Glad to know my cluelessness brings you some humour, Tom.
Tom's smirk remained on his face.
"To Saint Brigid and Imbolc!"
Harry knocked back the mead, which he hated, then he smiled as Daphne slipped her hand into his, and the feast began.
Imbolc, like many other festivals, was about storytelling and sharing. While Harry wasn't great at the storytelling part, he did enjoy listening to other peoples stories and watching the reactions of the people he loved.
Lucius loved a good tale, and he told it well too. As he spoke, moving his hands in the air, over-pronouncing words and exaggerating all the best parts of his story, Narcissa chuckled by his side and shook her head at every joke because she had heard them all before. Lily was chuckling too and occasionally catching Tom's eye across the table. Sadie and Draco kept stealing glances, and every so often, Harry would look over at Daphne to catch her radiant smile.
He lost track of the story as his thoughts ran away from him – they might not be blood, but this was his family, and it was at times like this that Harry felt most grateful for it.
*TBC*