Luminescent
Part Twelve
Thanksgiving
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and related characters, but I do own the Lugovalos family, in so much as anyone can own the Lugovalos family. Or would want to, for that matter. Even so, if you want to use them for any reason, please ask.
Warnings: The crazy Lugovalos family, sap, Odin and Percy attempting an intellectual conversation. . . I think that covers it.
Author's Note: I dug up some time to post, so you get a special treat. However, because this was spur of the moment, this isn't beta'd. My poor beta had no warning and this is as much a surprise to her as you. This is now beta'd. I love PrincessXXMoonXX. She actually got me this like, a week ago. But exams hate me. So you get it now. Sorry.
I'm also going to admit that I'm a little behind writing this story. Not to fear, I have more done that is posted, but the last couple of chapters have given me trouble. I know what's happening after them, but I have to figure out what I'm doing in them to lead to that point. So, there may be a slight delay. Fear not, though, because they will get done! I will complete this story. . . or. . . series, rather.
Finally, please remember to review. I love reading them, they give me a warm, fuxxy feeling inside. But, as always, I'm not holding anything hostage for reviews. Oh, and one more thing. . .
ENJOY!
oOooOo
The next few days passed as uneventfully as one could have hoped, leaving a relieved Harry Potter in their wake. After his initiation prank, and the subsequent flour war, it seemed that the rest of the family was content to calm down again, at least until Anya's family arrived. Upon seeing them, Harry had to wonder where Aunt Anya got her looks, because she was by far the prettiest member of her family, and then he realized that, appearances aside, he was strongly reminded of Marge Dursley.
"I have to wonder what Lucius Malfoy would think of them," Chara finally muttered to her son and Harry, frowning at the two as Anya's mother began speaking in a degrading tone of Connor Lugovalos, Chara's now-deceased husband.
"This could be bad," Cyrrus shivered, leaning closer to his father.
Alvin stroked his son's hair. "Don't worry. Chara won't hurt you." He and his son looked similar, as many of the Lugovalos family did, and Harry, upon seeing him, finally understood where Cyrrus got his coloring. He had yet to meet Serpa, who would not arrive until the next day, but was pleased to find Alvin was decent company when he wasn't strung out on drugs.
"I just don't want things to get bloody." Cyrrus muttered, looking over his cousins and grandmother. All of them were slowly turning strange colors, followed quickly by the rest of the family.
Anya's parents prattled on, oblivious to the upset they were causing until Chara finally broke in, voice frigid. "That's my husband you're speaking about," She hissed, blue eyes narrowing. "I would appreciate if you stop."
"Did he run away? Is that why he's not here?" Anya's mother snipped.
Chara's shoulder's tensed in rage. "He's dead," She snarled, and stalked off. The rest of the room held it's breath for a moment before Anya sighed and rose to her feet.
"That was inappropriate of you," Harry finally spoke up, crossing his arms and frowning. "You should be nicer to the dead."
"You have a name, little boy?" Anya's father sneered.
Harry tilted his head arrogantly, a pose Phyrrus didn't often see on his diminutive boyfriend since Harry couldn't generally pull it off well. "Harry Potter," He announced, and nearly gaped the at almost complete turn around Anya's parents took. Anya frowned at them both, leading them from the room and letting Harry sit down, wide eyed.
"I didn't think they'd actually recognize me," Harry finally muttered, frowning.
"Did I not mention that?" Phyrrus gave an innocent little whistle. "Anya's actually English."
"What?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Sure. She came over here when she was twenty and met my uncle. That was way before Voldemort, though. Her parents lived in England up until after the first war." Phyrrus offered a sweet smile, making Harry slap him upside the head.
"You could have warned me!" Harry howled, shoving him slightly. "Warning would have been nice!"
Phyrrus rubbed the lump on his head, grumbling, as Anders smirked himself. "Where's the fun in that?"
Harry rounded on the entire group, green eyes sparking in rage. "And none of you thought to tell me?"
It was only a few heartbeats for most of the room to find elsewhere to be, and Harry growled. "Retribution. Will. Be. Mine."
A few heartbeats after that, everyone else in the room was gone too. Harry smirked to himself. Sometimes it paid to be scary. Besides, he had vengeance to plan.
oOooOo
After Harry's meeting of Anya's stuck-up parents, he decided his time was better spent with Phyrrus, Leon, or Anders--none of whom they could tolerate--or Grandma Lugovalos--whom Anya's parents would rather avoid. Since he was generally accosted by the two doddering idiots whenever he wasn't with the immediate vicinity of one of the aforementioned crew, Harry soon found himself taking refuge in the barn at odd hours. "I'm just glad we share a bed," Harry admitted to Phyrrus, later. "I heard that Anya's mother was after me the first night."
Phyrrus' eyes widened as he shuddered from the thought, and the red head almost immediately began looking a little green. "So didn't need to know that," He moaned as Harry smirked, curling up against him. Thanksgiving was less than six hours away, and everyone without cooking ability had been banished from the kitchen, and then Harry had been kicked out as well because it was his vacation. Severus, under the same stipulation, was sitting across from them with Anders and Percy in the hayloft, attempting a game of poker.
Severus was winning.
Harry had folded and was eyeing Phyrrus' hand, frowning. "You're sure you can win this hand?"
"I don't want to fold. Besides, it's not like we're playing with anything real. Just chips."
"That's good, seeing how Uncle Sev would have cleaned you out a long time ago if you weren't," Harry commented, eyes flicking over the cards again and glancing towards Severus. Severus smirked at them both, looking at Anders and Percy, both of whom were still contemplating their own hands.
"I fold," Percy finally announced, tossing in his cards.
"Call," Phyrrus ordered, putting his hand on the table. Severus tossed in his cards, then smirked, gathering the pile.
"Damn," Phyrrus groaned. "How are you not cheating?"
Severus smirked at them again and stretched. "I'm done."
"We're not out yet!" Anders protested.
"Cyrrus is good at poker. You lot aren't," Severus pointed out, scaling down the ladder. "If you want to keep playing, go get him."
"I'm not bad," Phyrrus protested, sighing.
"You suck at poker, Phyrrus."
"Kind of like he sucks at chess?" Harry snickered, remembering the last--and only--game of chess Phyrrus played with Ron.
"Like that," Anders nodded, standing up himself. "Come on, we're going to eat soon. Grandma will want us to set the table." The others followed Anders down the steps and were almost immediately handed plates, cups, silverware, or napkins.
"Told you," Anders muttered, heading towards the tables set up in the barn. It was too cold to eat outside, and they didn't all fit in the house, so once a year the main part of the barn got a thorough cleaning for the Thanksgiving meal. Although Harry didn't think he'd want to eat off the floor. The older men had already set up the tables, and the younger women had added tablecloths and centerpieces, leaving the younger group to set the tables and carry out the food.
"How many more people are coming?" Harry grunted, taking yet another stack of plates to the table. "And where did all these dishes come from?"
"That's your RSVP," Phyrrus joked. "You send a place-setting for every visiting family member."
"You're kidding, right?" Harry panted as he set the huge stack down.
"Yeah. I think they rent them from somewhere or something." Phyrrus shrugged. "River, don't you dare drop those!"
"I won't!" River protested, floating the glasses inside. "You think I'm stupid? Grandma would have my head!" Rayne followed her sister closely with more glasses while Mina and Lita appeared with some jam, jelly, and butter for the rolls to put on the table.
"Where's Mum?" Harry called to one, still setting out the plates.
"Cooking." River rolled her eyes.
"Duh. Who's house?" Ever last one of the houses on the Lugovalos Farm was being used for the huge meal. If it wasn't full of turkey, then it was bread or potatoes or something equally mouth-watering. Like pie. The scent had been driving Harry mad since about eight-thirty.
"Ours." Rayne called in reply. "Phyrrus, Anders, Grandma wants you two to go get the potatoes."
"They mashed?"
"Andrea did it," Lita called, waltzing out. Phyrrus pouted. He loved to mash the potatoes, but one of the other cousins had beaten him to it.
Calling out to another cousin to make sure the buffet tables were set up properly and cleaned, Phyrrus and Anders headed out, Percy and Harry in tow, to begin taking the food out. Minutes later, in a ragged line, every last Lugovalos was sitting down, filling every table, and a few other spaces, mouths watering.
Harry turned to stare out over the crowd. He and Phyrrus were perched on the floor of the hayloft, leaning over to see into the main area of the barn. It was perfectly clean, full of food. Tables spread over every available inch, and Harry knew that below the storage space in the other side, where they generally kept a workshop, there were more tables. Even the storage space had been shifted around to utilize the space, as had the hayloft. No one but Phyrrus and Harry had clambered up there, though Phyrrus assured Harry there was plenty of food to go around.
Still, staring over the crowd allowed Harry to look at all the gathered Lugovaloses and their families. Black, brown, red, and gold were spread over the main floor, and Harry knew their eyes varied as much as their hair. From green, to blue, to brown, to hazel, it was all down there. Even a dozen different skin tones decorated the floor, since a few family members were of Asian or African descent and their families were also present. And it wasn't just family, either. Close friends had also been welcomed, adding to the already diverse population.
"That's Bastion's father," Phyrrus gestured to a tall, black man, laughing jovially with another Uncle. "And his mom's the woman next to him."
"She's white? No way!" Harry gaped. Bastion's dark skin was the color of chocolate. "I don't believe it. That's not his birth mother."
"You bet it is. Uncle Bastion thinks its hilarious," Phyrrus snickered. "Come to think of it. . . so does she."
"Considering how insane your family is, I'm not surprised," Harry snorted, still looking everyone over. It was amazing to see so many people getting together for a single purpose, especially when the Durleys had placed so little importance on family.
"If I could have your attention," Grandma Lugovalos announced, waving to each of them. "I'm glad you could make it out for Thanksgiving here with us. It's always a pleasure because what is this time of year without family?" Her voice carried over the soft whispers still going around the crowd, quieting everyone.
"Before we begin," Grandma Lugovalos continued, smiling brightly, "I just wanted to offer what I am most thankful for this year. I'm most thankful for all my family, new and old. Now eat."
Silverware clattered and plates clinked as everyone dove in line, the older men and women shooing the younger to the back and hobbling forward as was Lugovalos custom. If one managed to survive mostly intact to an old age, the choicest pieces were ripe for the taking. Heading up the front of the line was Grandma Lugovalos herself, sending a wink to Harry, who smiled. Once the older family members were through, the rest of the family jumped in line. Phyrrus and Cyrrus bullied their way to the front with Harry, Percy, and Severus in tow, smirking at the rest of their family members and piling their plates high.
"Does this always happen?" Harry asked, finally plopping into his seat.
"Sure. But we only got through because we had you three with us," Cyrrus grinned. "They wouldn't have let us through if it was just us."
"And we really aren't big enough to bully our way through," Phyrrus joked in agreement. Despite being three inches over six feet, Phyrrus and Cyrrus were nowhere near the tallest members of the family. Uncle Bastion was nearly seven feet tall, and Uncle Clayton, Uncle Varius, and Uncle Kelsey were all six and a half feet or taller. In fact, Harry reflected, there were only two or three men of the Lugovalos family that weren't over six feet.
"No kidding," Cyrrus agreed with a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at the both of them and sighed. He hated his stature! It was hard enough to see over half the crowd when he was sitting, and it wasn't fair they were all so tall.
"Don't pout like that, baby, you'll get wrinkles," Phyrrus pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before taking another bite of his food. "Besides, you're taller than Grandma."
"Like that's a feat," Harry snorted and dug back into his meal. Not even the house elves could outdo this! Because the Lugovaloses canned their own vegetables and fruit, just about everything at the table was home raised. Even the turkeys had been bought from a man down the lane. Friends and family had poured in for the event, and Harry couldn't believe the number of people, talking and shouting and enjoying each others company all at once.
"Harry." Phyrrus' Uncle Odin nodded in greeting, sitting next to a surprised Harry Potter.
"Uh. . . Mr. Carlisle?" Harry addressed him hesitantly, not knowing Odin well enough to assume he could call him an uncle.
"Uncle Odin," Phyrrus greeted happily, Cyrrus echoing the greeting.
"You may also call me Uncle Odin, Harry." Odin offered, quirking a slight smile. "You are almost family, after all."
"Thank you, Uncle Odin," Harry gave a brilliant smile, and Phyrrus' eyes glittered. He loved Harry's smile. "Are you enjoying Thanksgiving?"
"Mom dragged me along," Odin confessed, shrugging. "Otherwise I probably wouldn't have come. But I am enjoying myself. Skyler, Caden and I had an excellent conversation of physics and magical interaction."
"No offense, Uncle Odin, but that sounds like a total snore." Cyrrus was already yawning at the description. "Grandma Carlisle drug you from the office so you wouldn't work."
"It's not work," Odin protested. "It's interesting."
"He sounds like Hermione," Phyrrus, Cyrrus, and Harry all chorused at once, then grinned at each other and laughed. Odin quirked an eyebrow at them, his lips twitching slightly. Phyrrus stuck out his tongue.
"I think it sounds interesting," Percy, who was sitting near them, reached over to poke Cyrrus. "Behave, cretin."
"Hey!" Cyrrus protested the treatment as he jumped from the poke. Percy smirked, filing away the information for later. Anders just rolled his eyes at them both.
"My lover is impressed with the cross of magic and physics," Anders moaned to another cousin near him. "Why can't this end well?"
"Because you're a Lugovalos?" She offered, as though it would explain everything. Which, in many ways, it did. Anders just groaned louder and shoveled food into his mouth at a faster pace, trying to look too busy to talk--or listen. Percy ignored him, probing at Odin a bit, and finally nudging Anders in the ribs and telling him to stop chewing so loudly.
Anders looked rather offended.
The rest of the group just rolled their eyes and returned to the amazing meal before going back for seconds of the delicious food and then rushed to the dessert table. "What's all this?" Harry poked and prodded a few things while Cyrrus and Phyrrus named them off together.
"Pumpkin pie, blackberry pie, black raspberry pie, chocolate chip cookie squares, blondies, brownies, ooh, Aunt Felicia made chocolate pie and that's Uncle Alvin's special peach cake. . ." Phyrrus drooled sightly. "Why didn't you tell me he was bringing that, Cye?"
"He didn't tell me!" Cyrrus protested. "Oh, wow. I have had this since. . . since. . ." He trailed off.
"Since?" Phyrrus raised an eyebrow.
"Dad started drinking again," Cyrrus finished softly.
Harry hugged the forlorn teen and smiled. "I'm sorry. Is it good?"
Both teens choked and put some on Harry's plate, adding pumpkin pie and whipped cream and some of the chocolate pie. Harry's eyes widened. "Where do you think I'm going to put this?" Harry protested, staring at the mound of desert.
"Are you kidding?" Phyrrus' jaw dropped. "Your dessert stomach, silly."
"My what?"
"Well, your appendix has to be good for something, right?" Cyrrus and Phyrrus shared a wink. "That's what we thinks it's for. Don't worry, it'll fit. There is always room for dessert." The boys piled their own plates high, then grabbed some of the peach cake for both Grandmas and Chara before heading back to the table and handing it out. Chara's eyes took on an unholy gleam, and Grandma Carlisle and Grandma Lugovalos traded looks, but all three dug into the cake with gusto.
Moments later, Harry found out why.
Harry moaned as the first bit almost melted on his tongue, slowly chewing it and savoring the taste. He had never--never--eaten such an amazing dessert. Every bite was as good as the first, making the cake just perfect, and Harry nearly gasped when he realized he was out. "That was. . . amazing!" Harry moaned, not wanting to eat the rest of his dessert yet, just savoring the lingering taste.
"Did Phyrrus just give you a blowjob under the table?" Anders asked, raising an eyebrow and ignoring Phyrrus' and Harry's reddening ears.
"Anders!" Phyrrus screamed, slapping his cousin upside the head, his face tomato red and clashing horribly with his flame colored locks in his embarrassment. "Uncle Alvin brought peach cake you fucktard!"
Harry blinked at Anders' now vacated seat. He hadn't even seen the older Lugovalos move. One moment Anders was teasing Harry and Phyrrus, the next Harry was staring at his vacated seat, the wind of Anders' passing ruffling his hair. Well, at least they didn't have to worry about his lewd comments anymore. Phyrrus and Cyrrus traded smirks. "I love peach cake," Cyrrus commented blithely, finally finishing off his own slice and starting in on the rest of his dessert.
Phyrrus and Harry nodded in agreement, and Harry continued to sample the amazing foods known as the Lugovalos Family Thanksgiving Feast. Harry sighed. "Now, if only the house elves at Hogwarts could cook like this."
Phyrrus blinked at Harry. "Actually, I think that would creep me out a bit."
Harry rolled his eyes. "But imagine the Christmas feast."
"I am. But I'm also imagining Uncle Leon as a house elf."
"Thanks, Phyrrus. Now I'm creeped out!" Harry shuddered.
Phyrrus shrugged and returned to his dessert. Harry sighed and shook his head, licking his plate clean. Why was this entire family stark raving nutters?
oOooOo
After the most amazing feast Harry had ever eaten in his life, the family dispersed to sprawl out in various homes on various couches or enjoying the plush carpets on the family room floors. Magical clean up was such a wonderful thing, and the pots and pans and dishes all scrubbed and dried themselves as the family, drowsy from the food, napped, talked, and watched either American football or quid. Harry, with his head on Phyrrus' shoulder, rubbed his belly. "I'm stuffed."
"Me too," Phyrrus yawned, grinning up at a few of Clayton's children, three of Montague's, and one of Kelsey's boys as well as any significant others in the group before turning to press a soft kiss to Harry's temple and let his head flop back, limply, against his pillow. He and Harry were sprawled on Uncle Clayton's floor, a blanket thrown over them both, Phyrrus with a fluffy pillow and Harry with a Phyrrus-pillow.
The other cousins all nodded in agreement, one of the girls--a particularly tomboyish cousin--giving off an amazing belch. "Much better," She sighed, poking at her boyfriend until he shifted enough for her to lean on him. He made a face at her, but said nothing. The Thanksgiving feast had made him tired as well.
Drowsing comfortably, Harry vaguely listened in to the telly as it announced football scores as huge beasts of men tried to beat each other up on field. Harry rolled his eyes, too comfortable to even shake his head. He was never going to understand American football.
Some hours after that, yawning widely, Harry allowed Phyrrus to bundle him up in a hand-me-down coat that had more grease than color and seemed to be made out of a type of canvas. Phyrrus had told him it used to be brown. It was obviously one of Phyrrus' old coats, made for farm work. It smelled of the tall teen, old as it was, and had a second scent overlying it as well. Phyrrus smelled of farm and flame, but the coat smelled of farm, and flame, and. . . something more. Something fresh and bright and comforting. Harry shrugged, putting the scent of the coat from his mind and glanced to his boyfriend. "Why are we bundling up?"
"We're going shooting!" Phyrrus told him, smiling like a happy puppy. "It's a past time."
"You're kidding, right?" Harry grunted, allowing Phyrrus to hang a pair of gun mufflers around his neck. Phyrrus shook his head, grabbing a long, plastic case and a small box by the entry way.
"Nope. It's tradition." He winked and continued out the door, Harry in tow.
Both were dressed for the cold November weather, in their heavy, dirty coats, with scarves, gloves, and protective gear. "This is a 12 gauge," Phyrrus told his boyfriend, nodding towards the case. "But I think we have something smaller that you can use. A shotgun like this might have too much kick for a beginner."
"What makes you think I'm shooting?" Harry questioned with a smile, knowing he would be goaded into a few rounds.
Phyrrus winked at him and continued towards Uncle Leon's. They would be shooting in his backyard, since it faced away from the road and the only thing behind his house for acres was fields. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, grinned when he saw Percy and Severus already there. "You too, huh?" Harry grinned.
Percy huffed. "It's bloody cold out here," He grumbled, jumping up and down a little to stay warm. Anders grinned at that and Phyrrus kidnaped Harry to teach him to work the gun.
"Let the newbies go first," Leon teased, pulling Severus to the front. Severus slapped his lover playfully, but took the gun and took careful aim as a second marksman aimed for the small orange disk that a younger cousin sent flying through the air when Severus yelled out, "Pull!" Everyone kept their eyes on what Phyrrus had told Harry was a "Clay Pigeon," and Severus took careful aim.
A second shot made the clay pigeon burst into a million pieces, and Severus sighed, stepping back to give Harry a turn. Phyrrus patted him on the back and Harry nervously took the gun. "Just. . . shoot it?"
"Sure. Hell, you can pretend it's Moldy Ass' face if you want," Phyrrus winked. Harry gave a tiny laughed and told them to launch the clay pigeon. The gun nearly sent him reeling back, since he wasn't expecting the kick, and his hands tingled. He did clip the clay pigeon--though it was more luck than aim--but the second marksman was still forced to shoot it.
"That's so cool!" Harry gushed, eyes sparkling. "I want to do it again!"
"Next turn," Phyrrus agreed, taking the gun and pulling him back. "Okay, Percy! Let's see what you've got."
Percy smiled at Anders, and Percy calmly held the gun at his side. "Pull."
The cousin at the trapshoot--the clay pigeon launcher--gave him a funny look, but did as asked.
Almost too fast for Harry to follow, Percy swung the gun up, settled the butt of it against his shoulder, and fired off a round, knocking the clay pigeon from the air. Jaws dropped at the display. Percy grinned. "Uncle Kelsey taught me." He told them, tapping on Anders' mouth to close it. Kelsey winked at his soon-to-be son-in-law.
"That's my boy," He praised, patting Percy on the back. "Kid's a natural," He added, and Anders choked on his own saliva.
"Holy shit that was cool!" One of the younger boys cheered. "Do it again!"
"Later," Percy told them quietly, handing Anders' gun back to him and settling against the side fo the truck. Several more trapshoots appeared, and then the contests started. Several of the older men that didn't care to compete took Severus and Harry off to the side and taught them how to work the guns, and Harry was cheered when he'd hit a few of the clay pigeons dead on and turned them to dust. Severus adapted far more quickly, and Harry went to watch Phyrrus for awhile.
Cyrrus was already out, and the tall teen grinned at Harry. "Watch this," He ordered, pointing to his cousin.
Phyrrus, like Percy, held the gun to his side, but this shotgun, unlike Percy's, held more than one round. "Pull," Phyrrus ordered, and Harry felt his eyes widen. Percy's display had been amazing, but it was nothing compared to Phyrrus. The sharp snap of the trapshoot and Phyrrus was already in action, swinging the gun up and aiming as he pulled the trigging, shifting the gun from his shoulder to pull a small lever and pull the trigger again, to repeat the gesture thrice more. It was almost too fast for Harry to see, and the British teen found himself in awe. The only other time he'd really seen a gun up close was the one Hagrid had turned into a pretzel when he was eleven.
"That was amazing," Harry breathed, almost too awed to speak. When Phyrrus turned, Harry realized he had tears in his eyes as he busied himself checking the safety on the gun and making sure he didn't accidently point it at someone. "Phyrrus?"
"I'm sorry," Phyrrus choked, setting the gun in the truck bed and covering his face with his hands.
"Phyrrus, arudo, look at me," Harry pleaded, pulling Phyrrus hands from his face. Tears were dripping slowly down his cheeks, and Phyrrus yanked his hands back to cover his face again.
"Don't," Phyrrus whispered, shaking slightly. Harry gently took his arm and led him around to the other side of the trucks, wrapping the taller in his arms.
"What's wrong?"
Phyrrus shook his head, burying his face in Harry's grease-covered coat, and burst into tears.
oOooOo