A/N: My eternal thanks go to Webstriker, whose help on these drabbles has truly been invaluable. If anything wrong or bad is left here, that's entirely on me.
This was stupid. Here he was, spending a lovely evening with his girlfriend of a few months, thinking their first Christmas together would be exciting and wonderful, having even gone out of his way to find the perfect gift only for it all to fall apart around him (one would think things would stop falling apart after Voldemort, and yet here he was once again, having shat the proverbial bed.)
He'd gone through so much trouble too. Suffering Astoria's jibes once he'd mustered the courage to ask for her help, spending countless afternoons in creepy little rundown antique shops deep within the European countryside in France, Austria, and half a dozen other countries all for a silly little journal. Oh she'll definitely love it Harry. She'll make a fuss but secretly she'll enjoy it.
"So you don't like it?" He asked. This seemed a little beyond simply 'making a fuss.'
She was gorgeous even when she huffed in annoyance. It was vexatiously distracting. "It's not that I don't like it, Harry. I do like your gift. But this has Astoria written all over it. Metaphorically," she added, gesturing to the little book in her hands.
"Okay." Harry breathed out, but his chest still felt like it was being crushed by a boa. "You like it, but you don't like it."
She put the worn journal on the table between them and made him sit down beside her on their little couch. "It's intense, is all. My sister planned this masterfully. She used you in order to mess with us both."
Harry did his best to focus, but her hand on his knee was making everything harder than it should be. "You have to help me understand Daph," he began, the words stumbling out of him. "Is this a shit gift or not?"
"It's an amazing gift and it's way, way too much for a first Christmas with your girlfriend," she told him in the deadpan tone (and with that cute sexy little pout) she always adopted when she wanted to be direct. That famous Ice Queen persona that made him smile whenever he thought about it. "I love you and you're a great boyfriend, but my sister has played you like the little snake she is."
Had she? But she'd been so helpful. Sure she'd taunted him every minute they spent together, but Astoria had always been callous with him. He figured that was her way of protecting her big sister, nothing more. Her ancestor's long lost journal was such a perfect gift for their very first… Their very first Christmas. "I'm never gonna be able to top that gift, am I?"
His girlfriend smiled at him, in the way a teacher smiles at a child. It felt very demeaning — but also strangely hot, in a completely depraved way. "You won't have to. Here's what I'll want for the next five Christmas celebrations." She then reached behind the couch and dropped a box of his favourite Honeydukes sweets on his lap.
"You got me the treacle ones!" He exclaimed upon seeing the box, before blushing profusely. It was a wonder an astounding girl like her would want anything to do with him.
"So a box of your favourites for Christmas — the firewhiskey ones — right?"
Daphne merely smiled at him and nodded, before she toppled him on the couch and started making out, the box all but discarded. Harry found himself grinning and kissing back for two whole minutes before worry reared its head again. "But what am I supposed to get you for Valentine's Day?"