Tea at Stori's house was always such a pleasant affair. Not that the beverage itself had anything to do with it, mind you. When she had joined her lot with the Chosen One and forever bound herself to the unbelievable mess his life was, Daphne had known she was abandoning the more refined aspects of her life. She had accepted it, believing herself an adult at the time and having long realized that growing up meant cruel crossroads and harsh sacrifice. Of course, she hadn't accounted for her sister. Astoria had truly been the loveliest of oversights.
"It was an open and shut case, Astoria," Harry was saying to her sister (you could tell he was upset when he started calling people by their name, which Daphne always found odd and endearing.) "We had no way of knowing the real culprit had orchestrated everything weeks in advance."
"Draco tells a different story. Don't you sweetie?" Her sister asked, turning towards her own husband.
Draco Malfoy looked like he wanted nothing more than to get up and flee, perhaps throw himself out the window as his godfather had once done. Oh the little snake knew how to compose himself in high society, but he certainly could not fool her. Daphne had known him longest of all present here. She had seen him turn from an arrogant child to a tortured teen, and then into a man worthy of her sister. Nonetheless, Draco was a coward at heart. He preferred quiet evenings to the rush of action. It was a puzzle he'd chosen the Auror life.
"I simply expressed that in hindsight," he began, much in the tone one would use to address hungry velociraptors (Daphne was a connoisseur of the Jurassic Park movies ever since her husband had introduced her to cinema) "The clues were all under our noses from the very beginning. It's all in my report."
"I've read your report, Malfoy," Harry began. "It does not account for some very relevant context, as I've stated in my own one."
"So it's true then!" Astoria exclaimed suddenly, almost jumping out of her seat. "Harry wrote that you were both drunk!"
Someone had to intervene. Astoria – that scheming harpy of a sister – had played these two bumbling fools masterfully, as she was wont to do anytime they visited. Daphne had to remind herself that she had chosen this lest she start lecturing her very own bumbling fool on the fine art of conversation. For the umpteenth time. "He didn't write anything about being drunk. He stated that they had been called on the scene at four in the morning and were in less than ideal condition for the beginning of this investigation."
Astoria looked positively delighted. As always, it fell to Daphne to bring her down a peg. "Yes, Stori. You have once again extracted confidential information on a very recent Auror investigation. Are you done torturing them?"
Her sister's smile was more triumphant than conniving. "Harry has no secrets for me. You of all people know how bad a liar he is anyway," Daphne cut through the uneasy silence.
"I…" Harry's lips were set in a very familiar rictus until she shot him a look down her nose, setting her jaw and staring him down. Her husband simply sighed and shook his head in defeat.
Daphne smiled lovingly at him. Harry always ended up making a fool of himself with her dear sister. It had begun decades ago: from the moment she had met him Astoria had known he was no match for her. Poor Harry, her cute little tyrannosaurus of a husband, bested by a devious old snake.