The usual disclaimers apply.
xx
Mary Kelly's cooking was better. But this was better than Daddy's cooking. So – on a list, Mary Kelly would be on top – Hugo's granny (who told her that she should call her Judith) second, and Daddy only third. But only, of course, when it came to cooking. Of course when it came to everything else, Daddy was, and would always be on top of any list. Apart from cooking. She liked Daddy's cooking, but this roast was fantastic!
And eating it together with Hugo and Hugo's Mummy and grandparents and Daddy – and even Rosie.
Rosie wasn't so bad, actually. She was just even more curious than she herself. And she had picked out every bit of those bricks they had built with (Hugo explained, interrupted by Rosie, interrupted by Hugo, that those were called Legos) and had observed them closely before she had done anything with it. Hugo and her had just built the sides and were finished a lot sooner than Rosie with the roof. And when she was finally finished, she explained in all detail what she had done and had asked, in all detail, why they had put the windows there or there and why there were three doors (simple – one for each of them). And they had talked about it and how to put the roof on there and Ophelia began to understand.
No, really.
Rosie had asked those questions then because she was so curious and because Daddy was the smartest person in the world. And who else would you ask but the smartest person in the world?
And Daddy only loved her – he had said it only to her. And he hugged only her and Mary Kelly. But he only hugged Mary Kelly because she was sad.
And he didn't even want to touch anyone else – everyone could see it. He just sat there and ate and looked at Hugo's Mummy occasionally and at Ophelia when he wasn't looking at his food or Hugo's Mummy or her, he stared out of the window but only ever briefly and Ophelia knew that nobody but her noticed since they all talked with each other. Daddy even sometimes said something. But not much. And she remained mostly silent as well. She just didn't know what to say to most things.
"And you manage the apothecary all on your own?" she heard – suddenly – and looked up, smiling.
"Yes," Daddy said slowly but her smile faltered and she shook her head.
"No, Daddy," she said and all eyes were on her. She wasn't used to all eyes being on her.
"No?" he asked her.
"No," she said sternly. And they were still all looking at her, "I help and Mary helps."
He looked at her – a little angrily – and she quickly had to look away. Wasn't she allowed to tell that? But it was true, wasn't it? She had written out all those labels and Mary always was down there with them and helped Daddy and fetched things and cleaned up and made sure she knew what to write on those labels. And Daddy couldn't simply say that he did all that alone when they helped.
She looked down at her food for a moment, then looked up again. Daddy was focused on his food, and Hugo's Mummy stared at Daddy strangely. Almost as if she tried to figure something out. And Hugo's grandad was almost scowling and Hugo's granny was grinning. She didn't understand grown ups. They were all weird. All but Daddy and Daddy just ate. She shrugged a little and did the same. She had just told the truth after all.
xx
So – Granger was staring at him. The senior Granger looked a little miffed, and his wife grinned. His daughter – smart little thing. Slytherin little thing, even though she wasn't doing it on purpose. Telling everyone that someone called Mary worked for him. Which was – technically true. But who would think that Mary was not his – lady friend – but behaved more and more like a maternal figure. She had even pressed his suit. Had looked him up and down before they had left.
Still – quite strange to see their reaction. Definitely interesting.
Seemed like – for the first time, Granger saw him as a real person – like a male. And that alone made it worth it. Not that he was in any way interested in her – but it made the entire revenge so much sweeter – Granger noticing him as a man – and the Weasleys seeing that. Oh how sweet that would be.
Not that he would ever even consider taking the Hugo Weasley boy with him. Imagine someone saw them. It would publicly mean almost engagement to Granger. And it was one thing to be considered a man in her eyes and quite another to be considered being engaged to that girl. Woman. Whatever.
But other than for Ophelia – and his own pleasure of seeing the Weasleys squirm a little – he was doing nothing for any Grangers. Not in this lifetime, not in the next. He was a Slytherin through and through. His daughter was one – and he had done just about enough for non-deserving people to last him until all eternity.
The rest of that lunch was somewhat quiet and he was glad of it. But maybe the Grangers were just listening to their children talking. Ophelia looked at him for a moment – and seemed to somehow grasp that he wanted to leave.
She yawned.
His little witch – just after desert – just yawned. Giving him the perfect excuse to go.
"I think my daughter needs a nap," he said and got up. The meal had been excellent. But nothing Mary Kelly couldn't cook.
It was a bit awkward – but Ophelia played her role well. She complained a bit about wanting to stay, but eventually – she just let herself be picked up and lay her head against his shoulder.
"Thank you for lunch," he said and held his girl.
"Thank you for coming," Missus Weasley said. "And we hope you'll come again soon."
"We'll see," he said and his daughter on his shoulder – perfect Slytherin – only nodded. She didn't even say anything.
"And please," Granger said, with a strange look in her eyes, "consider what I..."
"I can give you an answer right now, Miss Granger," he said – the vitriol back in his voice, "I will not babysit your son."
She raised his eyebrows but – nodded. "I see."
"And about the other – matter, feel free to owl me," he said arrogantly, nodded, and as Ophelia waved at the children, he left the house.
xx
"Daddy?" Ophelia felt really tired – especially after that awful apparating. She had not slept that well the night before. She had been excited and everything and now – she really did want a nap. Preferably with Daddy on the couch. Hadn't done that often but three or four times and that had been lovely, nice and cosy and amazing.
"Yes, Ophelia?" he asked cuddling her.
"I'm tired, Daddy," she yawned. "Can we nap on the couch, please?"
He looked at her from above and seemed a little puzzled. "We could."
"And what about babysitting Hugo?" she asked, yawning again.
"No, Ophelia. Those days when I take you somewhere are you and me only," he explained, taking her shoes off and setting her on her feet, then helping her out of the coat, then, as she was leaning against him, he took his own boots and coat off and picked her up again.
"But then I can probably play with him again, please? And with Rosie?"
He seemed to nod – but said nothing.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Ophelia?" he asked in that gentle mocking tone again.
"But I can see Hugo again?"
"Yes, my little witch, I will not forbid you to see him."
"That's good," she yawned and smiled a little when he carried her to the couch. "I'm glad because I like him."
"Now, what about the nap," he said so gently and sat down, and she snuggled up on his chest. This was the most comfortable place on earth. Really. No matter what. No matter where – she loved laying on her Daddy's chest and loved that he always held her there. She knew she was safe. She also knew that she was probably too old to be sleeping on her Daddy's chest but she had never had the chance when she was younger. She was merely catching up.
And he was right, she thought and her eyes fell shut slowly. She wanted the day alone with her Daddy. Didn't want to share him. Not even with her friend Hugo. It was her Daddy and hers alone.
xx