Chapter 10 - Christmas Holidays

Josiah was squinting anxiously around the harbor in the crisp, cloudless winter weather. He had on one sweater and two jackets, and he was standing over the rail on his father's boat hoping that the boy hadn't frozen to death on the way – a motorcycle, honestly, of all the things….

He looked up at every honk, roar and putter that sounded remotely engine-like, wishing that the time would pass more quickly.

Noah had sped through the main road away from his village, happier and freer than he had been in weeks. He would've liked to feel the wind on his face, but doing that in the middle of the winter would be a stupid way to lose a nose to the cold.

He wore a t-shirt, a couple of long-sleeved shirts, a thick, warm wool sweater, a scarf and his leather jacket. Every inch of his skin had been properly covered from the cold wind and the rain that started pouring later on, but no matter. He loved the speed, the pleasure and the rush of an empty road ahead of him, the perspective of driving without schedule or obligations.

Still, by midnight he'd been more than happy to see an Inn when he made a detour into a small village he knew.

The rest of the journey had been a lot faster in the morning – never mind that he'd slept in –, but still it was almost one o'clock when he finally arrived at Stonehaven Harbor. He would've appreciated the landscape a lot more if he wasn't starting to feel nervous with the perspective of that visit.

It only took him a couple minutes to find the harbor in the small village, and he slowly drove by as he looked around at all the boats and the people outside. He squinted at the figure on one of the boats as he approached. He grinned inside his helmet.

He stopped as close to the sidewalk as he could, one foot on the it for balance. He pulled the helmet over his head, looking up at the boat and waving.

Jo knew that it was Noah the moment the motorbike pulled in, because nobody around these parts owned anything that fancy or well-kept. The helmet came off to reveal a mess of blond hair, and his heart surged despite himself. He returned the wave, then turned around to hop back onto the pier.

"Did you find it alright?" He asked, trotting up to Noah, slightly out of breath by the time he got there.

It wasn't very far, but it was cold, and he wasn't exactly in great shape. "We've got a shed out back you can put your bike in," he murmured, not knowing anything about motorcycles at all but trying his best to be accommodating. "And there's leftover scotch eggs and fish stew, if you… you do like fish?" He inquired, realizing that the thought had completely slipped his mind. Clearing his throat and letting his breath catch up with the rest of him, he gave the other boy a small, nervous smile and started toward his thatched-roof house.

"I'll unlock the back for you," he called out, motioning around the back of the house. "Just come in whenever you like. I'll tell Mum you're here. Oh, and um," he said a little meekly. "Mind the chicken. She's a bit crabby at strangers."

Noah watched Jo with amusement. "It wasn't too difficult. Sorry I'm a little late; didn't mean to keep you waiting. I like everything, don't worry. I never say no to food."

Jo started walking away; Noah followed on his bike. "I hope it's not a bother…"

He grinned. "I'd offer you a ride, but you don't seem like you want one," he teased.

"Oh, no, that's fine," Jo said a little breathlessly. "I went below deck to warm my hands from time to time, so…" He flushed at Noah's playful jab, giving him an amused, slightly sarcastic smile.

"I never said I was opposed to a ride," he quipped. "Just not on your motorbike." The front door squeaked loudly and then flapped shut with a loud series of smacks on the wooden frame.

Noah stared at Jo, his mind completely turned off-balance with that. His face heated up despite the cold. "Good to know," he murmured to no one, as Jo had disappeared inside his house.

Noah took the bike towards the shed Jo had mentioned, in the back. He found the chicken inside. Frowned a little at it; it stared back at him, following his movements.

He took longer than usual, both to make sure the bike wouldn't be in the way in case someone needed to use that space and to give himself time to prepare for the next few minutes.

Jo relished the warmth of the small but cozy house, shedding his jackets and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater.

"Mum?" He called out, stepping over Pearl, who was spread out on the floor with a fairy coloring book. "Noah's here…."

"Oh, your mate from school?" She called back, stirring a large pot full of steaming fish stew. "I'm glad he found it alright; where is he?"

"Um, putting his motorbike out back in the shed," he said tentatively, turning around so that he would only feel instead of see his mother's raised eyebrow.

Noah made his way into the house, keeping an eye on the chicken. He really hoped it wouldn't scratch his bike. He'd spent every single knut he had on it and his broomstick already.

He entered the house and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible, looking around with interest. He took off his jacket as it was very warm in there. It also smelled deliciously of fish stew - his stomach growled approvingly.

There was a very young girl sprawled on the floor. Noah stopped. "Uh, hey!" He greeted, offering a small tentative smile.

"Hi," Pearl said simply, returning his smile and looking back down at her coloring book for a moment before adding. "What's your wand made of? Jo told me in his letter that there are lots of different ones." She pulled something out of her pocket, and Jo, with some amusement and slight embarrassment, realized it was the fake wand that Dan had given her.

"Mine is oak with chicken-feather core."

Jo opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice coming from the direction of the stairs.

"Oh, you must be Jo's friend," his older sister said offhandedly, tossing her long, straight hair over her shoulder in a manner that Josiah slightly resented. She could have at least worn more clothes! "I'm his older sister, June."

He thought privately to himself that maybe inviting Noah wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

Noah's eyes widened; he looked from the girl to Jo, astonished. He looked back at the girl, not sure whether to laugh or be serious when he saw her fake wand. He chose the latter – even he knew better than to upset women for no good reason, even if they were still kids. "Mine's hornbeam," he hesitated, giving Jo another quick glance. "With dragon hearts-"

He stopped, looking at the girl coming down the stairs. She was quite pretty. "You are?" Was the first thing that came out of his mouth. None of the girls looked like Jo at all. They were both blonde with light blue eyes and seeing the three of them together only made the differences more obvious.

He told himself to stop looking like a babbling idiot. "I mean… Hi, I'm Noah." He waved slightly, awkwardly. "Nice to meet you all."

Jo's mother, always adept at picking out awkward situations, smiled warmly and cleared her throat, getting everyone's attention.

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Noah, dear," she began, putting the large pot in the center of the table on a hand-knitted pot holder. It had a reindeer on it. "You must be freezing, driving all that way on a motorbike… would you care for some stew? And then Josiah will show you to his room. He was in a right state since last night, preparing a place for you to sleep…."

"Mum," Jo said quietly but with some emphasis, blushing awfully. "I wasn't in a state."

"You're always in a state, JoJo," June said, ruffling his hair teasingly. He pursed his lips.

Noah stepped forward, trying to remember his manners. He offered a polite smile. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Johnston. I hope I'm not giving too much trouble." He looked down at the jacket he was still holding. "It wasn't that bad. But I am star- uh, quite hungry, yeah."

Josiah tried to shake off his embarrassment by taking the jacket gently but firmly out of Noah's hands and going to hang it up by the door with considerably more care than such a task generally required. On a whim, he pulled out his wand and, with a single flourish, removed a rather large and stubborn stain off of its front pocket before turning to face his family and guest.

He offered Noah the chair beside his, his eyes flicking up every now and then to rest on June, who seemed oddly preoccupied with the new addition to their table. She caught his look and waffled a bit under her brother's glare, shrugging defiantly before grabbing the ladle in the soup pot.

Noah looked around at everyone, trying not to look too famished or awkward. Then, as Jo busied himself with his jacket and the rest of his family moved towards the table, he took off his sweater as discreetly as he could. All the layers of clothes he was wearing were quickly becoming uncomfortable.

He took his seat next to Jo and looked at the deliciously smelling pots. June took the ladle and he followed her movements; he hadn't eaten anything since he'd left the Inn, hours ago.

June dipped the ladle into the stew and held it over Noah's bowl, giving him an amused look.

"Say when," she instructed, pouring a hearty helping in front of him, then digging back into the pot for another ladle-full.

Noah grinned. "We'll get along, you and I!" He grinned as he saw his bowl filling up. He flushed a little at that; his mother had always said became too loose lipped whenever food was laid in front of him.

"Thanks," he added, still cheerfully when his bowl was filled up to the top. He looked around at everyone else, waiting patiently for everyone to be served.

June raised an eyebrow, smiling, but remained silent as she filled up her own bowl. Josiah, however, was staring into his empty bowl like it held all the answers to life and the universe. He knew he should be happy that they were getting along so well, but something in the pit of his stomach gave a jealous squirm.

"So," Jo's mother cut across the silence again, determined to have a nice meal so close to Christmas. "Noah, JoJo was telling me that you play that um… er… Widd… Kwiddy…"

"Quidditch," Jo finished solemnly, still looking at this bowl, although there was now stew in it.

"Quidditch! Now, what's that like?"

Noah looked up from his food, a renewed gleam on his eyes. "Oh, it's amazing! I'm Gryffindor's Captain this year," he puffed up at that. "And I'm a Beater."

"It's pretty exciting and quite fast as well. Although the competition at school is nothing like the professional championships and…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing he was rambling to these people he'd just met. He gave Jo a quick glance, then looked back at the women at the table and gave a slight shrug. "I'm hoping I'll be selected to play professionally, after I leave Hogwarts."

He focused on his food, taking a few more bites to keep his mouth busy. Maybe that way he'd stop embarrassing himself. "This is really good. You're a great cook," he praised.

"Gryffindor is a house," Josiah quickly translated, all too familiar with the blank looks of polite interest on the faces of his relatives. "A Beater is a position in Quidditch where he takes a bat and hits, um, Bludgers, which are flying balls that try to knock people off of brooms." His mother paled a bit.

"That sounds a bit dangerous!" She murmured, sloshing her stew around in her bowl with her spoon. Pearl and June, however, looked positively enthralled. Noah's well-meaning compliment was cut off by an interjection from Pearl:

"Why don't you just ride your broom everywhere?"

Noah let Jo explain the terms, realizing he'd assumed his family would know everything about the wizarding world because he was used to talking to Jo.

He recognized the expression on Jo's mother's face. It was the same he'd seen in his own grandmother's countless times before. He gave the older woman the same sheepish look he gave his own grandma when she saw him doing something she thought was dangerous.

"It's not so dangerous if the Beaters are good," he said, trying not to sound braggy. At least his Quidditch-related scars weren't visible. "That's my job, to keep my team safe," he decided it was best to leave out the part about trying to hit the other team's players.

He grinned at Pearl. "Ah, I wish! I ride it whenever I can, but we're not supposed to let unknown Muggles see us using magic, and I live in a village with a lot of Muggle families," he pondered for a moment. "But a motorbike is almost like flying, except… lower."

"And noisier," Jo added with a small smile, slurping up the last bit of his stew. He felt warm and full and happy, but he caught a look at June – her tall, naturally thin frame – and then felt a bit guilty. "It was good, thanks Mum."

He wiped his mouth and offered to take Noah's bowl to the sink. Waving his wand, they dutifully washed themselves and nested neatly into the drainer.

"I can show you my room now, if you like," he said lightly.

Noah sat back, full and content. He met Jo's eyes and his stomach did a lazy, nervous twirl. "Uh, alright." He looked at the others, giving a tentative smile as he rose. "If you'll excuse me… It was delicious, truly. Thank you."

He picked up his helmet, backpack and sweater from the sofa where he'd left them, and followed Jo.

Jo trudged up the stairs, pushing open the door to his room and looking over it. He had cleaned it rather extensively before Noah's arrival, and he felt pretty confident about its presentability.

"Um," he said a bit shyly. "We didn't have an extra bed, and I'm not very good at large-object Transfiguration, so I just put an Enlargement Charm on mine…." He trailed off. "I thought we could share. I mean, unless you don't… if you don't want to."

Noah stopped near the door and studied the bed; then he glanced back in the direction of the stairs, as if trying to make sure Jo's family wasn't looking over his shoulder. He took a hesitant step into the room.

"Yeah, we can…" He fiddled with the items on his hands. He'd slept over at Shawn's before and they'd shared his room. No big deal. Right? "Sure, why not?"

Trying to look more at ease than he'd sounded, he took a few more steps into the room and dropped his things at the feet of the bed. "Which side is yours?"

"Oh," Jo murmured, realizing he hadn't thought of that. "Erm… well, it was rather a small bed before, so I usually just took up both sides." He scratched the side of his head sheepishly. "I'm not really fussed, to be honest." He smiled, feeling a little more at ease now that they were alone.

"I'm glad you came."

Noah snorted at that. "Yeah, about that… I've been told I'm a kicker, so… I apologize in advance."

He looked at the bed, then pushed his things to the left side, just because it was closer and needed to stay busy.

He allowed himself to relax a bit. He smiled at Jo. "I told you I'd try."

"Well, if you wake up with a Binding Charm on your legs… I apologize in advance, too." Josiah grinned, plopping down on the right side and turning his eyes to the slightly water-stained ceiling.

"Oh," he said, suddenly remembering something. "I've got to make the house Unplottable again. I did it before I left for Hogwarts; Mum says it's been awful with the pizza delivery boy, he has to drive by four times before he remembers it's here. It's for the better, though…." He got to his feet again, pulling out his warm brown willow wand.

He closed his eyes, holding out both hands and trying to concentrate deeply.

Professor Flitwick had lent him a book in 5th year called 'Moste Potente Protective Charms for the Paranoyd Sorcerer.' Apart from the dodgy spelling (it had been a very old book) and the fact that he hadn't considered himself paranoid at the time, Josiah found himself more and more often consulting it. And in his heart, he knew that it wasn't nearly enough to secure them from the storm that was coming.

The amusement vanished from Noah's face, but he managed to stay quiet while Jo worked on the charm, his thoughts going back to that DADA class where Jo had been attacked by the Slytherin Prefect. Who exactly was he afraid of? Just Death Eaters in general, or someone in particular?

"Jo," he called seriously when the Ravenclaw was done. "Has anyone been bothering you?"

Jo opened his eyes a few seconds later, slightly startled by Noah's deep concern. He supposed he shouldn't be; after all, they were… well, he didn't really know what they were, but they were something more than friends, in any case.

"Erm," he said softly. "It's a little bit complicated. Anyway, it's done now." He flopped back on the bed and looked up at Noah with wistful eyes and quirked eyebrows.

"Fancy a good old-fashioned Muggle board game?" He murmured with mock excitement, kicking off his shoes onto the floor.

-/-/-

Daniella sat at her desk, a plate with toast and a mug of tea at her side, staring at her Transfiguration book without really paying attention to it. She twirled the quill between her fingers as she tried to come up with something else for the last 10 inches she needed for her homework, when she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering downstairs. She looked towards the door, brows furrowed, when she heard her father's voice cursing violently. Her entire body tensed; she untangled herself from the chair and tiptoed to the door, opening it just a crack to listen.

"-show them who they're dealing with! Bloody scum! And that idiot, I'll show him! I'll go there an-" The loud bang of the front door closing startled Daniella. She couldn't hear her father anymore. He'd Disapparated. She listened more closely, trying to figure out if her mother had gone along. Everything was silent.

She left her bedroom and quietly made her way down the stairs. She found her mother in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. She was covering her face with one hand, while the other held a parchment. She was shaking. There were shards of glass all over the floor.

"Mother?" She asked quietly, but still Miranda jumped, startled. "Mother, what happened?" Daniella asked, worried. She pointed her wand at the pieces of glass, and the large bowl repaired itself. She set it on the table before walking up to the upset woman and taking the message from her shaky hands to read it.

"Merlin's pants…" she breathed, anger and worry washing over her in equal parts. "Where did father go?"

"To get your brother back, of course…" Her mother answered, blinking rapidly and wiping out the tears. "He'll sort everything out, you'll see." She took Daniella's hand in hers and patted it. "Don't you worry, darling, your father will take care of it."

Daniella looked from her mother back to the parchment, frowning. "It says here they suspect his involvement in a case of 'breaking and entering a Muggle's house with the purpose of vandalizing it'", she read out loud. "How exactly-"

"Your brother is completely innocent, you know that!"

Do I? Daniella wondered, but didn't say the words out loud. She would've been worried with Jo's family if she hadn't just corresponded with her friend that morning, so she knew whatever this had been, had had nothing to do with him. But she couldn't, in all honesty, be certain her brother was innocent.

-/-/-

"So, mother…" Daniella started, hoping this conversation would be a little easier than the several ones before about this specific subject. "I need to get to the store today for the last fitting and I need to take the money, or they won't finish it."

Miranda closed the Witch Weekly magazine she was reading, took off her reading glasses and beamed at Daniella. "Oh, of course, darling, let me just get my shoes and-"

Daniella's eyes widened. "No," she said quickly. "It's really not necessary, I can go by myself and…" She trailed off as her mother was already on her way out of the living room. Daniella pursed her lips, steeling herself. "You really don't have to go with me, it's only the last fitting…" She said in a last desperate attempt to avoid another session of attempted brainwashing.

"Nonsense, darling! I'll go with you." She looked at Daniella with the same sad, heavy expression she'd had since the day before; it made Daniella squirm uncomfortably. "Since this problem with your brother, I… I could use the distraction. You won't say no to your mother, will you?"

Daniella closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Bloody hell… "Alright, fine."

-/-/-

One hour later, Daniella was wiggling into her new dress in one of the back rooms of Twilfitt and Tatting, for the final fitting. She didn't feel very comfortable in such a fancy shop. It wasn't the kind of place they could afford to shop in all the time. But since she would go with Logan, who had also been invited - that was if he was released after the hearing the next day, that was - her mother was taking the most out of this opportunity. She saw it as a sign that Daniella was finally resigning to assume her 'role in the family'. That thought made her uncomfortable, but she was growing tired of the arguments.

"You know I love you, Daniella. You and your brother. If anything happened to either of you…" Looking at the mirror, Daniella could only see the top of her mother's head behind her, as she busily double-checked all the pins and needles while the seamstress had gone into another room. "You don't understand how the world works yet, but you will. These are very-"

"-dangerous times," Daniella repeated along, rolling her eyes. "Yes, mother, I've heard that speech a thousand times already, and I've only been back home for a week!"

Miranda grabbed her arm and made Daniella turn around to face her. "Do you really think I don't understand how you feel?" The woman asked in a low, severe voice. Daniella frowned, surprised by that change in behaviour. "I used to be like you, Daniella, I had my head full of dreams and ideals, thought I could change the world! I thought…" She shook her head and sighed heavily, as if trying to contain a strong emotion.

Daniella stared in shock, her mouth slightly open. She rarely ever heard her mother talk with this much intensity.

"It doesn't matter. It's different now, Daniella." She eased the grip on Daniella's arm, patting it gently. "You have to lock your heart away and use your head, darling. You'll see, in time, that I'm right. Family is all that matters. Our blood, Daniella. That's the best protection we can have. You and Logan…"

"Are you happy, mother?!" Daniella asked abruptly, unable to stop herself.

Her mother's smile was shaky. "I have you and your brother! You are the most important things in the world for me. You'll understand one day, when you have children of your own. I'm happy as long as you're safe and sound."

Daniella searched her mother's eyes. "Are you happy, though?" She asked slowly, emphasizing each word. "Are you happy with father? Are you happy with your life?!"

"Darling, you're still too young to understand how things work..."

Daniella opened her mouth to protest, but the seamstress gave a short knock on the door and entered the room, apologizing for the delay. Daniella gave her mother another long look, but she'd slipped back into that polite-but-excited-about-her-daughter posture.

"I'm so happy you're going to this party! Oh, cheer up, darling, this is a great thing!" Her mother beamed at her.

Daniella huffed. The seamstress got back on her feet and told her she could take the dress off. Daniella wasted no time.

They left the store considerably poorer and with the promise that the dress would be delivered at their address the next day. Daniella walked out into the cold, pulling the scarf more tightly around her neck. It was still early and she wasn't eager to go back home.

Jo was far out of reach, but she suspected someone else could be a lot closer. She looked over the bustling street, crowded with people shopping for Christmas presents, at the Knockturn Alley. She knew Ezra and Sabrina's families had an Apothecary shop there. Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary, if she wasn't mistaken. Would he be there now? She bit her lip. Would Sabrina be there? She didn't look forward to seeing her. But what was life without taking some risks? And potions ingredients were never too many, right?

"You go ahead, mother, I'm going to meet a friend first," Daniella said to her mother and, before she could protest, "it won't take long. I'll be home early."

Miranda's expression hardened. "Is it that…"

Daniella saw her struggling to complete the sentence. She had never been able to say Jo's name, as if the mere mention of the boy's name was enough to soil her reputation. Before she said the one word that would make the conversation escalate into an argument, Daniella said impatiently, "No, it's not him! For Merlin's sake, mother. Go! I can take care of myself."

Ezra wiped his hands rather primly on his dark green work apron, and the fireslug slime smoked harmlessly against the fabric. It had been a rather long day.

Normally he worked this shift with Sabrina, but she had gone to France to have a party dress commissioned. And so it happened that Ezra was handling all the bulk orders for the holiday season by himself, rifling through barrels and boxes and grabbing fireslugs in giant fistfuls. The bell on the door jingled for what must've been the billionth time that day, and he heaved a soft sigh and prepared to go to the front.

The store looked darker than most stores in Diagon Alley – or maybe it was just her perception of the place and its location – but Daniella was still glad to get out of the street and the weird looks she'd been getting. She was always uncomfortable in this street.

She looked around at the herbs, plants and even animals exposed, at the instruments and tools, until her eyes lay on the counter. She allowed herself a moment of relief for Sabrina's absence, but there was no one else there either.

She tapped her fingers on the counter, wondering if she should call out, when Ezra made his appearance. "Good afternoon," she greeted with an amused, but straight face, looking over his outfit.

Ezra's pale face threatened to flush pink, but didn't quite follow through. He recovered quickly, smirking a bit half-heartedly.

"Is it? I wouldn't know; I haven't seen the light of day since I've arrived for vacation." Somewhere in a corner, a rare species of toad gave a hearty croak. "Shall I help you find anything in particular? Rat spleen is the sale-of-the-day."

Daniella raised an eyebrow. "You could just…" She made sure they were alone and lowered her voice. "Run out before they wake up." She paused thoughtfully. "If you can handle the endless shouting after, that is."

"Uh, no thanks, but I need the regular set of ingredients we use in Hogwarts. Mine's running low."

Ezra gave a small smile at her words.

"Of course." He turned to a very high shelf behind the register desk that was stacked high with hundreds of glossy wooden boxes. Engraved on the front of each were the words 'Standard Book of Potions Ingredient Set.' They were arranged by year of study.

"I'm not supposed to tell people this for obvious reasons, but if you by some divine streak of inspiration requested that I remove them from the box and put them in refill-friendly bags, mayhap it would save you one galleon and two sickles."

"Ah," Daniella said, giving a lopsided smirk. "Indeed, if I was able to save up a galleon here, I could maybe buy a friend a drink… if he was brave enough to face the wrath of his family for leaving work earlier, that is." She pondered for a moment. "I do own a fancy wooden box. More than one, in fact. I really just need the ingredients," she said solemnly.

Ezra mulled over her words as he gently siphoned the ingredients into several small paper bags, then wrapped them in a still bigger bag with scratchy twine handles.

"One galleon and seven sickles," he mused, sliding the bag across the smooth wooden countertop. "I'd leave in the flutter of a batwing if it didn't come directly out of my wages," he drawled. "Although I suppose it's perfectly acceptable to leave in two flutters. Excuse me while I fetch my coat."

Daniella handed him the money, chuckling. Taking her bag, she entertained herself by looking more closely at the contents on the shelves while she waited for him.

She'd come here a couple times before with her father, when she was little. Since then, this place had a strange effect on her, a mix of fascination for all the things one could use to create a potion and goosebumps, considering the creepiest things in there that would never be exposed in Diagon Alley's store.

"I wouldn't want you to be shouted at more than absolutely necessary, so where do you think we can safely go?" She asked when he returned.

Ezra waved his dark, handsome wand and all of the shades on the store windows fell down with a sharp rap. The sign on the door changed promptly from "Open for Business" to "Out for Lunch".

"I nearly always find myself at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch," he murmured, counting a few clinking coins in the pocket of his winter outer-robe. "Tom always looks incredibly perplexed when I ask for a humble fish and chips, and the amusement is worth the two extra knuts."

Daniella nodded approvingly. "Fish and chips sounds lovely right now."

They left the store; Daniella slipped her free hand into her pocket, trying to keep it warm. "Have you really been working all of your vacation time?" She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Not even a break to buy fancy clothes for your party?"

"I've got all manner of fancy clothes," Ezra replied, somewhat shortly, as though there was a hidden annoyance about the subject he couldn't quite keep under wraps. He softened his tone a little, pulling his robe more tightly over his work clothes against the chill. "I'd much rather listen to a chorus of slimy toads than my mother go on about French dress robes, if that's what you mean."

"What have you been doing all this time?" He murmured, in a painful attempt at small conversation.

That made Dan laugh. "I have a pretty good idea. Thankfully, my mother can't quite afford to send me to France, although I'm sure she tried hard to."

"Well," she started, "I told myself I'd show some self-discipline and do all the homework I had to take care of. I've been... mildly successful at that," she said solemnly. "Other than that, I've just been experimenting with some potions, which is why I needed a refill, and generally avoiding my family."

She'd said the words in a casual tone, but his previous quip got her thinking. She pretended she didn't care, tried to make it look like it was just a game. But it wasn't. The only difference between them was that she'd made a conscious decision to defy them. She'd chosen to fight this battle.

Ezra nodded, looking off to the side with a thoughtful tug at the corner of his lips. He was not, for all intents and purposes, a big talker. He was a good actor, certainly; but he felt, very acutely, that he and Daniella had somehow moved past the point of usefulness for that particular skill.

He did not know how to have a real friend.

"Then, you…" he cleared his throat. "You've picked out your dress, have you?"

"Yes," Daniella nodded, suddenly a little more self-conscious. "It's supposed to be sent to my house tomorrow."

The Leaky Cauldron appeared in front of them. Daniella gave Ezra a curious glance. "I'm still not sure why you invited me. Do you feel like you need more excitement in your life?" She asked, teasingly. "Especially since Logan was invited as well. I don't think we've gotten along for longer than a couple hours since I was eleven, you know?"

"Was he?" Ezra murmured, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. "I didn't invite him." He held open the large, battered door for his companion before slipping inside.

The Leaky Cauldron was almost always bustling, but it had thinned out a bit since the threat of Death Eater activity. Regardless, the sound of muffled conversations and clinking mugs could be heard throughout the small dining room.

Several heads turned when he walked in. It should make him happy, he thought rather bitterly, to be recognized as the heir to a rich and powerful pureblood family. Lately it only made him morose. He sat at a table, and a rather short waiter rushed over to them.

Daniella entered the room, immediately noticing the difference in the number of heads turning since she'd been there a couple hours earlier. Sighing to herself and ignoring everyone, she sat across from Ezra, pondering his answer.

She couldn't deny she was relieved he hadn't been the one inviting Logan. She couldn't brush off the feeling that every moment she spent near Logan now was just another way for him to make sure she wasn't in the company of someone 'not suitable'.

They ordered and, as the waiter walked away, she said, "Well, I don't know who did, but he's going. My escort," she snorted, annoyed. "Like I need babysitting." She studied Ezra. Since both Jo and his family were still safe, she was pretty sure Ezra hadn't said anything damning about them to Logan. "I wanted to thank you…" She said in a low voice. "For not telling him anything about Jo."

Ezra thought about this critically for several moments. His mother was in charge of the invitations every year, so the safe bet would be that she had assumed Logan was a close friend. Still, hearing that he had been invited only a short time after he had decided to invite Daniella…

He looked up, his face blank at her unexpected gratitude.

"Oh," he said finally, with grim realization. "The Muggleborn." He looked down at his butterbeer and watched the remnants of foam swirl lazily over the top.

"Your brother has an unfortunate habit of putting his faith in the wrong peo-" his sentence was cut off by his surprise to see his mother and Sabrina arrive with a crack at the Leaky Cauldron's far door. "Merlin's trousers," he said under his breath, attempting to hide his face with one pale, thin hand.

Daniella followed his look curiously. All blood fled from her face at the sight of Sabrina.

She looked back at her own plate. "Bloody hell," she mumbled, fiercely wishing she could just Disapparate right then. "Who's the woman with her?" She whispered, sinking in her chair.

The Lady Greengrass was quite a formidable woman by most accounts. She wore long, intricate dresses, with delicate shawls and magnificent hats. She walked upright as though she had been born with the ability to balance a book on the top of her barely-grey head. The clicking of her high-heeled boots might well have been magically magnified, considering all the attention that it drew.

"Ah, Ezra, darling," the last word lingered and soured on the air, containing no more affection than spoiled milk. "Why, I thought you'd be at work." To Ezra's great annoyance, Sabrina had half-hidden herself behind his mother's robe and was – faintly, to be sure – smirking.

"I-"

"Oh, and who is this!" She interrupted him loudly, causing several heads to turn and survey the scene unfolding. She bent down slightly and, with a comically large grin of polished cream-white teeth, gave Daniella a wink. "One of our own, I should hope," she added with a little more steel in her unbearably sweet voice.

Daniella disliked the woman from the moment she opened her mouth. She considered the possibility of doing something less proper, but it was clear that this was Ezra's mother and he wasn't enjoying the situation.

Swallowing her annoyance, she forced out a small smile. "Good afternoon," she greeted. "I'm Daniella Hawke."

Ezra's already prominent jawline was now sharp enough to slice vegetables on, and he struggled to find a single dulcet word to give the pair of women in front of him.

"Mother," he greeted in a calm manner that suggested a temper which rivaled the ocean in depth. "Daniella is attending our party by my invitation. She just had a few… questions."

"I see," was his mother's reply, every note longer and more melodious than necessary. "You've finished, then? I daresay you wouldn't make poor Sabrina work your shift all on her own. That would be quite rude."

Ezra knitted his hands for a moment, fighting within himself. And his mother knew it – oh, she knew, he could tell – she was relishing every second of his blatant discomfort. This was the punishment, he was dimly aware, for seeing a girl alone who hadn't be approved beforehand.

"No, mother," he said softly, pushing back on the table and slowly rising to his feet. He gave Daniella what he meant to be an apologetic look, but it turned out to be mostly hollow.

"I will look forward to seeing you nearer to Christmas," he murmured, barely audible, before turning.

Daniella's anger grew with every word and every gesture of his mother during their interaction. A glance at Sabrina almost made the words clogging her throat slip out; she had to remind herself this wasn't her battle.

She bristled at the blatant disregard the woman showed for her, like she wasn't even worthy of the woman's attention. But the worst part was Ezra's expression. She felt bad for him and with him, but most of all she was pissed off with him.

Why did he submit himself to being treated this way? She wanted to take his hand – or maybe his ear – and pull him out of there, away from those two but, instead, she returned the look he gave her, unable to hide her feelings anymore.

"Thank you for answering my questions," she said stiffly. The words felt heavy and sour coming out of her lips. Time to go back to pretense and fake-flattery. "My brother and I are very pleased with the invitation. I'll see you then."

She sat there, unable to move, hating that whole situation, hating how everything in her life was so fake and shallow, smothering the few good moments she had.