Rating: PG
Pairing: Michael/Daphne
Characters: Michael Corner and Daphne Greengrass
Summary: Michael remembers back to a time when things weren't so grey, then he's snapped back to reality.
Notes: Somewhat angsty, post-Hogwarts. Salutations, Because I Care, and Wreck are all somewhat interrelated. They are published here in order.
The creature's feathers were soft. Almost like fur instead of plumage. Of course, this was a young one... She hadn't been born all that long ago, and it was only now that her parents were allowing the students to look at her. The baby hippogriff was beautiful. She was a light chestnut color, and took after her mother almost down to every last scale on her black front legs. However, she was a bit dappled, too... The faintest hint of dark brown splashed against her shoulders, and that was a trait she picked up from her father.
Touching, of course, was a different story.
"You ought to name her," Michael said, still keeping his distance even if Daphne was already halfway between him and the little family. She bowed, and all three of them bowed back... The parents seemed to trust the Slytherin, but the Ravenclaw was another story. Every once in a while, mum and dad would fix their orange eyes on the boy and just... glare. Daphne didn't seem to notice as she finally reached the trio and wrapped her arms around the little one's neck. Michael inhaled sharply, but Daphne was neither ripped limb from limb or battered about in any way.
"Name her?" Daphne asked, finally letting go of the foal and turning around. She was smiling quite brightly by this point, and Michael had the distinct feeling that nothing he said was really going to make any sense. Of course, he'd been dreading what came next, and that was the fact that she was motioning him forward.
He could have very well said no. A small word, no was always easy to say in theory. Of course, when it came to refusing Daphne, saying no became the hardest task in the world. And so, Michael started forward, eyes focused on the three hippogriffs. The baby bounced happily between her parents and Daphne while the mother and father watched this approaching intruder with intense orange eyes. When he felt he was close enough, Michael bowed to them.
To his surprise, they wasted no time in bowing back. Even the foal paused in her game to fall over vaguely in his direction. Ecstatic, Daphne waved him forward. Though the creatures weren't staring him down anymore, he was still very cautious, taking baby steps the rest of the way. That is, until, he was bowled over by the infant hippogriff, falling to the ground as it shoved its beak in his ear. Never had he been so absolutely terrified in than he was in that single moment, because small or not, it could still very easily rip him apart.
Then, she settled down next to the Ravenclaw, placing her feathery head on his chest and staring into his eyes.
"She's tired," Daphne said. Michael could hear the amusement in her voice, but only just; his heart was still hammering loud enough for him to hear it.
He had to smile, though, because it was cute. "She's so downy," he muttered as he rubbed a hand down her neck and shoulders. Even the point where the feathers became fur was quite soft. He looked up, then, noticing that day had become night. Daphne was still there, but the other hippogriffs had gone. It was cold... There were people all around them in tents.
The Slytherin sat down next to him. She looked older than she really was, but everyone did. "She always was," Daphne responded as Michael shook the last of the daydream away. "Some sort of isolated gene or something. Angora. She would have passed it to her children, I bet."
Michael sat up, taking the birdlike head of the creature and placing it in his lap. Daphne was looking at him like she didn't even know him, though she'd let that little bit slip. Just a little break in the patient-to-veterinarian professional detachment. He didn't mind it... After she was off duty, she'd be herself. Well, as much as she could be after... She smiled again, though, even as he was turning away. "It really meant a lot that you took her. She needed a good home."
"Didn't really matter, did it?" he asked. She hadn't actually said it yet, but he knew. He'd grown attached to the little beast.
Her eyes closed. "I did all I could." It was something she felt required to say.
Sighing, he stoked Downy's head one last time before he set it on the ground. He hadn't noticed how cold she was before, probably because his hands were numb from the chill in the air. They'd all known there would be casualties, but this didn't seem fair.
