Chapter Nine: Deck the Halls of Greengrass Manor
Daphne hadn't paid too much attention when he'd been missing at breakfast. She liked to eat early and sometimes missed Tracey, never mind Harry. She had tried not to think about it when he missed meeting her in the Entrance Hall but when she got to the platform a familiar pang of worry gripped her.
It'd be fine. He'd be fine. She tried to tell herself these lies and many more as the seconds turned to minutes. It's fine. Yeah, he was just busy. That'd be it. Busy packing. No doubt Ron was late, he always left everything to the last minute. The boys were probably running full pelt down the grand staircase. She'd see them any second.
"C'mon, I'm sure it's nothing." Tracey's words barely registered through the haze that was Daphne's panic, but she nodded all the same. When most boys were late, their girlfriends' first thoughts probably weren't that they'd been murdered in their sleep. But that was her burden and she'd carry it, although that didn't make the sick in her stomach any easier to deal with.
"Just another minute, okay?"
"Fine, but if we get a crap compartment, it's your fault."
For a moment it faltered, like a fluttering heartbeat, when she saw Hermione's unmistakable bushy hair bobbing towards her through a throng of students. She craned her neck, hoping to see him, but he wasn't with her. Come to think of it, neither was Ron.
"Have you seen Harry?" Daphne asked instantly as she accosted the young Gryffindor. People didn't pay them any attention, other than to tut and complain as they tried to dodge the sudden blockage to the flow of traffic.
"You mean he's not with you?"
"No.
"Oh."
"That's all you've got to say 'oh'. I can really see why they call you the smartest witch of her generation," Daphne snapped before she could stop herself. She didn't deal well with stress. A spike of pain told her she'd been chewing her lip for far too long. This wasn't right. Something was wrong. Knowing Harry that could range from he'd been kidnapped to burnt to a crisp by a giant dragon. And Voldemort was out there. The whole Ministry was after him or at least they were trying to be. Some people still didn't believe them but Bones was taking it seriously. Maybe he'd snuck into Hogwarts somehow.
No, it wouldn't be that. They'd have known. Voldemort wasn't the type for midnight machinations, right?
"She's just worried," Tracey said, trying to leap to Daphne's defence when Hermione looked like she'd been slapped in the face.
"I'm sure he's fine, he's probably just running a little late. Let's get a seat, he'll be here. You'll see."
He wasn't. None of the Weasleys were. The trip back to King's Cross was not a fun one. Every possibility sprinted through Daphne's head, benign or otherwise. Of course, the idea that they'd just stayed at the castle or that they'd been picked up by the Order for safety had crossed her mind, but it was banished in favour of images of Harry screaming at Voldemort's hand - because that was rational.
Tracey had the good sense not to try and raise their spirits and Hermione soon stopped when Daphne bit her head off more than once. She had never had time for optimism, it was stupid and pointless. Why hope for the best when the worst could be happening? It was just a delusion, a lie to stop your heart from racing. She'd rather focus on the bad and find out that it wasn't really that awful than being disappointed hoping for something good to happen. Normally this affliction only struck her with things like rounds or her homework. Now it was Harry everything was magnified.
The answer to Harry's disappearance came in the form of a very tired-looking Remus Lupin. He had taken up a position by her parents, who were happily greeting Astoria and quizzing her on the last year when Daphne pulled her trunk bad-naturedly off the train and stalked towards them.
Her heart sank when she saw Lupin's face. Any notion that Harry had just been moved for safety died when those eyes couldn't meet hers. She'd always liked him as a teacher, but that didn't stop the anger eclipsing those feelings.
"Is he alright?" She didn't bother to let him take her to one side, to let him explain out of earshot of her parents. She just needed to know. She had to know.
"Harry's fine." That was a start.
"Then where the hell is he?"
"Daphne, what's wrong?" Her mother asked.
"Harry wasn't on the train," Hermione explained when Daphne couldn't bring herself to answer.
"What's this?" Daphne's father interjected.
"Harry's missing," her mother answered.
"And you know where is?" Daphne directed this at Lupin. All eyes turned to the man, who seemed to shrink under the combined gaze of four witches and one wizard.
"He's safe." That meant he was at headquarters. "And as for what's happened, I think we should discuss this privately." Yeah right. "If we could just -"
"My thoughts exactly," Daphne's father said firmly, in a voice that indicated his presence was not up for negotiation. "'Rora, we'll be two minutes."
"Take your time." She reached out to give Daphne's arm a small squeeze. The touch made her heart want to burst. "Love you, Cocca. Come on, Astoria."
"Love you, too," Daphne called as, amazingly, her mother and sister left without Astoria arguing the point.
Lupin led the three of them to a small room off from the main platform. Daphne was dimly aware of Tracey accompanying her mother and sister towards the car park when they'd collected her own parents. Hermione vanished for a second to make excuses with her mother and father but slipped into the room when Daphne and her father had taken seats on a small bench opposite Lupin. Now that Daphne's anxiety was retreating she could see the bags under Lupin's eyes and the worry etched into his face as though it had been put there by a master craftsman. It did little to stop her fears from galloping back to the forefront of her mind. If he was hoping that he was reassuring then he was failing miserably.
"Harry's safe," he repeated again when they had all settled and he'd cast the necessary privacy charms out loud so her father could hear. Not a bad idea, given that her father openly didn't trust Lupin. "But Arthur's been attacked. He's in St. Mungo's. There's nothing to worry about," he added quickly. "They have told us he'll pull through."
"What's that got to do with Harry?" Daphne asked. Sure, she liked Mr. Weasley, but right now he wasn't her main concern.
"He saw it, didn't he?" Hermione's gaze didn't move from Lupin, even as Daphne's father goggled at her. Of course. He'd said he'd still been seeing the corridor. Mr Weasley must've been in there when he'd been attacked, but that just brought up more questions.
Lupin nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable about sharing this information in front of Daphne's father. Because telling a bunch of underage witches was fine but God forbid they actually include their families in this life-changing discussion. The more Daphne learned about the Order, the more she understood her father's distrust of the whole thing. They were being asked to put their faith in an entirely independent organisation. An organisation that, as far as Daphne could tell, had zero oversight and did what they wanted. Minus the murdering and the mania, the lines between Death Eater and Order member weren't that thick, it was all just the same sense of entitlement and doing the right thing.
"When you say 'saw', you mean he was there?"
"Not quite," Lupin said to Daphne's father who had asked the question. As the only one who was currently unaware of Harry's dreams, it made sense that he didn't immediately leap to visions. After all, who would? Even in a world of magic, visions were rare.
"Harry sometimes sees what Voldemort's -" Her father's fist clenched involuntarily. "Doing. So, last year there was that muggle man who killed, right Hermione?" To her credit, the Gryffindor girl barely reacted to Harry having shared that particular gem of information.
"Yes."
"Then I'm guessing he dreamt about Mr. Weasley?"
"And informed Dumbledore, yes." Lupin's voice was tired. "It was Harry who enabled us to locate Arthur so quickly, without him, I don't know what would've happened."
"And Harry's okay?" Daphne asked again, making damned sure.
"Harry's fine," Lupin confirmed. "Dumbledore thought it might be best that he and the Weasleys went back to the Burrow so that they could be contacted when Arther wakes up."
'When' not 'if.' It was funny, the little signs of hope that people clung to, but Daphne could see the doubt in Lupin's eyes.
"And Harry's family have been informed?" Daphne's father's tone was much harsher than she was used to but his eyes never left Lupin's. "I know they aren't exactly the most caring people in the world but as his guardians, I'm sure they have a right to know."
Lupin nodded, saving himself the lie. Technically Harry's family did know, or at least the family he cared about. Sirius. Daphne hated lying to her father, but even as she sat beside him watching his pent-up fury she knew she had to keep quiet. After all, it wasn't her secret to share.
"Right then, thank you for telling us. Pass my regards onto the Weasleys." The conversation was over, Daphne's father rose to his feet and gave Lupin a tight smile.
"Of course."
"See you soon," Daphne muttered, giving an awkward little wave to Hermione and receiving one in return as she and her father left the small room. It was only when they were in the crowd of muggles heading towards the car park that her father spoke again, scratching at his beard as he did so. His voice was gentle, kind, and somehow that made it worse.
"You okay, pumpkin?"
"Yeah, fine. Just, you know, worried."
"Harry seems to have that effect on you."
"It's not his fault," Daphne answered hotly.
"I never said it was." He thrust his hands into his pockets and sighed. "For what it's worth, I worry about him, too. One day, I'm going to have a word with that Headmaster of yours." The word in question didn't sound like it was going to be pleasant. "Don't tell your mother though, she'll only worry."
"Like you won't."
"Ah yes, but I'm very good at hiding it. See." He pulled on the world's biggest grin as they sidestepped a muggle couple who were arguing so loudly they'd attracted the attention of station security. Apparently, the man had been seeing someone called 'Lydia', although he claimed the mystic Lydia was just a friend. Astoria would be upset to have missed it.
"That's terrible."
"That's just because you knew I was lying."
"Sure, dad."
They stopped just as they reached a small collection of timetables, just a few feet away from the exit and her father's pride and joy. Daphne knew her mother likely loathed the Bentley by now.
"Seriously though, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, dad. Honestly."
"Because you could tell me if you weren't."
"I know." Sometimes he could be superbly, uniquely embarrassing, but Daphne would never wish for anyone else to be her father. "Really. And if it all gets too crappy, I swear, you'll be at least the third person to know."
"Third? That's a mighty high number." Puffing out his chest, he smirked and Daphne couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. He pulled her into a one-armed hug and squeezed just a little too tightly, the way all dads who forgot their own strength did before they headed out into the gloomy winter's day.
The topic of Harry didn't come up again, outside of innocent questions as to how he was from Astoria and Daphne's mother, until a few days before Christmas.
Snow caked everything, thick like a blanket but nowhere near as warm. In fact, the only part of Greengrass Manor that wasn't currently under siege from nature's frosty assault was Daphne's father's garden, which was magically shielded so none of his precious plants died. He was rather happy with himself for that.
Astoria, being Astoria, was barely seen in the build-up to Christmas. Outside of the Defence Club, Daphne hadn't seen her sister that year at Hogwarts. But that wasn't unusual. Astoria had always been more of a socialite than Daphne. It had been the same as kids. Whenever there was the odd function or party their family went to it was always Astoria who dressed up for the occasion, chatted to anyone and everyone who would talk to her and came home with a bag full of gossip and secrets. Meanwhile, Daphne mastered the art of glowering and cutting jibes early on in life and was, as such, rarely bothered by strangers at said parties.
"What time are we expecting my future son-in-law again?" Daphne's father said jovially as he grazed happily on a selection of patisseries he'd ordered from Diagon Alley. They were all amazing.
"Matty."
"What? I like the boy."
"Only because he plays Quidditch with you," Daphne's mother pointed out.
"And lets you win." Daphne couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at her lips as she said that.
"He said it was a close game." Somehow, despite being over fifty years old, her father managed to look like a crestfallen toddler. Daphne's mother shook her head good-naturedly but summoned the croissant out of his hand to get his attention back, a devilish grin on her face as she took a bite. Her father huffed but selected another and carried on eating without any real complaint.
"He's coming at three. He's having lunch with the Weasleys first." It was the most tactful answer she could give without saying, 'He's got lunch with Sirius Black, you know the man we all thought was a mass murderer? Turns out, he's as friendly as a dog. Quite literally.' "They do it every year, apparently. It saves Harry going back to the muggles."
"Can't say I blame him." Her father had, on multiple occasions, said that he'd never met worse people. Which, coming from a man who regularly interacted with Draco's father for years, was saying something. "If I could take him out of that place tomorrow, I would."
"Just a couple more years." In truth, Daphne had no idea why Harry didn't live with Sirius. It wasn't the easiest thing to explain to the Ministry, sure, but they could manage it. They could set Lupin up as his guardian or something, it wouldn't be that hard. She made a mental note to ask him about that when it wasn't Christmas, there was no sense ruining the festivities.
"And then?"
"I don't know," Daphne shrugged, "he doesn't really think past Hogwarts." For obvious reasons. It was pretty hard to imagine a normal life when there was a madman with a snake fetish stalking you.
"Now's the time, pumpkin. For both of you."
"But you don't have to decide now," Daphne's mother added, looking meaningfully at her husband.
"Yes, yes," he said, waving his hand like he was swatting an intrusive pixie. "But it never hurts to think about these things. I wouldn't be your father if I didn't point it out."
"Well, you have."
Daphne's father nodded, trying to appear sage. "And you don't want to, you know, talk about it?"
Daphne pretended to think about his offer. "No, I'm good."
Her father blew out a relieved sigh. "Thank God, I was worried there. My dad did the same to me, and I remember going on and on about Quidditch teams and all sorts. Not that he listened, why would he? No, he insisted I joined the Ministry. I hated him for it, but." He looked at his wife. "We wouldn't be here if he hadn't, would we? But yes, you've no need to discuss it if you don't want to."
"You can stop now." He had been in 'dad' mode more than ever since Harry's brief disappearance.
He grinned. "That's my girl. Speaking of, where is the other one? You know, yay high, talks a lot."
"Nowhere near as much as you, dear." Daphne's mother said.
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment," Daphne pointed out, sharing a look with her mother. How she had the resolve to put up with her father, Daphne would never know. But where Daphne found his eccentric ranting mildly embarrassing, her mother saw it as endearing. To be fair, when it was rambling versus indulgent self-promotion, she knew which she'd choose. Luckily, her parents had never forced her to make that choice. "And she's at Luna's."
"Lovegood?"
"Unless you know any other Lunas?"
"No. Well, there was this one Luna, but she's nearly sixty and works in Records, and I can't imagine Astoria is visiting her."
"Amazingly, you'd be right." Her father hummed, not in displeasure but there was something behind it. There was always the Hippogriff in the room around Astoria, but none of them would push her and as such none of them would talk about it. Their parents weren't stupid, they knew their daughters. But they'd accepted Harry and the various strings that came attached with him. Daphne didn't doubt they'd accept anyone Astoria brought home, no matter who they were.
Daphne disappeared not long after, heading to the pool that her father had installed a few years ago. She enjoyed swimming. It helped her think. When she was in the water there was nothing. For one of the first times in her life, things had finally seemed to be clicking. Then everything with the snake happened and it all seemed to be teetering on the edge of a giant black precipice again.
Her mind drifted back to the conversation with Lupin. At the time she'd been so intent on finding out what had happened to Harry that the emotions hadn't really hit her. They'd come a few days later when she'd received his letter telling her Mr Weasley was okay and that he missed her. A quick floo trip later, when her father was at Puddlemere United, had solved that.
He'd been a little distant. Who could blame him? He'd said he'd been the snake, been scared that it had been him not Nagini who'd struck Mr Weasley. Like he'd ever do that. Daphne had tried to reassure him, but she wasn't convinced she'd done an especially good job. Comforting wasn't really in her nature. After returning home, she'd vowed that was going to make sure Christmas was perfect.
It likely drove her mother insane and involved a few extra trips to Diagon Alley, but it was worth it. At least, she hoped it was.
oOo
When Harry awoke on Christmas Day he lay still for a few moments, savouring the silence. He always did this at Christmas, half-expecting that when he opened his eyes that he'd be back in his cupboard, singing 'Merry Christmas' to himself and wondering if his aunt and uncle had bothered to get him anything. From the age of six, he'd been roped into cooking the dinner itself and from eight he'd been completely in charge of the festive lunch. If it went well, Aunt Petunia would let him play with one of Dudley's broken toys from the spare bedroom. If it didn't, he was locked in his cupboard without supper while his uncle snored louder than one of his drills on the sofa.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, he saw, not his cupboard, but Ron's snoring and collapsed form on the bed opposite him. The Weasleys had practically moved into Grimmauld Place for the holidays and it was, as usual, absolute chaos. Before the utter carnage of a Weasley family Christmas ensued, Harry waited, wanting to enjoy the brief bubble of relative quiet.
Then Ron let out a particularly violent snore, followed by a muttered 'urgnnnn' before he blinked himself back into life. His gaze was bleary.
"Mornin'," he managed, stifling a yawn and stretching his long limbs as he sat up. "Up long?"
"Few minutes." Ron hummed, content with the answer before looking to the foot of his bed where various presents had been stacked up. Thankfully, Kreacher seemed to have left them alone because none of them had been clawed into. The boys happily tore off the wrapping paper, Harry got his usual Weasley jumper, a homework planner from Hermione (which Ron did too much to his disgust), a picture of what looked like a haunted demon from Dobby and a variety of chocolates from Ginny. Fred and George had bundled up some of their latest products for Harry to test. He'd also received a small stack of what Ron revealed was fan mail.
"Get a load of this one," he beamed, after tearing through six letters. "Mr Potter, I wish you a truly Merry Christmas and hope that you are able to continue your valiant efforts against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Incidentally, if you are seeking company over the holidays, I would be more than happy to make your acquaintance. Hey, there's a photo too."
"I'd hide that before your mum sees it," Harry commented dryly after what could only be described as a partially tasteful photo of a woman in her late twenties who blew kisses at him from the confines of the photo. Ron paled at the mention of his mother and made sure to tear the photo into pieces and chuck it into the bin before they went downstairs.
Christmas dinner was slightly earlier than Sirius had originally been planning, thanks largely to the planned trip to St. Mungo's and Harry's excursion to Greengrass Manor. But that didn't stop the spread he and a very stubborn Mrs Weasley had cooked up from being nothing short of incredible. They were all there minus Percy, who in a very haughty letter said that he must, unfortunately, miss the festivities due to work-related reasons, and it was perfect.
Percy, ever since Madam Bones had become Minister, had started reconnecting with his family through very awkwardly written letters and occasional visits to the hospital. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"First Christmas with the in-laws," Sirius said after swallowing a particularly large mouthful of turkey. Sirius sat at the head of the table and Harry, feeling guilty enough about leaving Sirius alone on Christmas Day as it was, had taken a seat next to him. "How're you feeling?"
"Fine. I mean, I like Daph's parents. They basically took me in over the summer."
"I must thank them for that, if I ever get the chance." The haunted look that normally followed references to Sirius' quasi-incarceration was nowhere to be seen. It seemed the festive spirit was keeping his demons at bay. "And you two. You're okay?"
"More than okay," Harry grinned, unable to stop himself. Sirius let out a tremendous bark-like laugh that attracted the gaze of Hermione and Ginny who were chatting a few seats down. Ginny's eyes lingered on Harry a little longer than Hermione's, but she dragged herself back to her conversation without saying anything.
"You're so incredibly like James, he was always the same with Lily. Never had eyes for anyone else. Oh, he had plenty of options, but it was always your mother."
"Do you think they'd have liked her?"
"Daphne?" He nodded. "Lily would've loved her. James might've met his match though. She's got a sharp tongue that girl." His heart beat a little quicker at that. Even the idea of Daphne meeting his father, talking to him, maybe trading barbs, it stirred emotions in him that he'd thought were long since packed away. "Not that any of that would've mattered anyway, they would have just had to look at you to see you're happy, Harry. That's all they would've cared about."
"And you?"
"She's not what I expected, that's for sure. Not that that's a bad thing. If you had to date any Slytherin, then I suppose you've got the best of the bunch." Daphne's House had been something Sirius had continually teased Harry over thanks to his own family's obsession with it. "What's all this about?"
"I don't know, I guess I just wish I could have what Daph's having today." He hadn't wanted to tell her, he hadn't wanted to tell anyone for fear of it coming across as selfish or mean-spirited. It wasn't. He loved her family. But they weren't his and they were never going to be, no matter how much he might want them to be.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
"It's fine." It wasn't, but there was nothing either of them could do.
He saw Sirius' hand move slightly as if he were debating patting Harry on the shoulder before deciding against it. So instead, his godfather simply said, "When are you off again?"
"About three, if that's still okay?"
"I'm sure I can manage," Sirius said affectionately. "Not that I don't appreciate the concern, but you've got your own life. You don't want to be weighed down by an old dog like me. Besides, I've got this lot to keep me company, haven't I?" He gestured to the assembled Weasleys. "Anyway, speaking of keeping in touch, Merry Christmas." He withdrew a small package from his pocket and placed it on the table. It was hastily wrapped in brown paper. "Use this if you ever need me. Just tap this and say my name and I'll be there."
"Sirius, it's…" Harry couldn't find the words. How many times had he been at Hogwarts and longed to speak to Sirius? Or even before that, he'd wished for any family that actually cared about him. Beneath the paper lay a small ornate mirror.
"James and I used to use them in detention, so we could talk without being found out. I've got the other one." He tapped the inside pocket of his robes.
"Thank you." It took everything he had not to get up and hug his godfather.
"Don't mention it. I've been meaning to give it to you for ages but, well, you know how things are."
"No, I don't." He was starting to get a little frustrated with it all. "Dumbledore won't talk to me, Sirius."
His godfather's dark eyebrows knitted together. "You're not joking, are you?" Harry shook his head. "Merlin's beard." He paused, drumming his fingers on the table. Then, finally, he said, "give me a few days, Harry and I'll see what I can do. There's not a lot I can tell you strictly speaking but if Dumbledore's not even going to talk to you, well… Like I say, give me a few days, okay?"
Harry nodded and this time Sirius did put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. At the end of the table, Harry was sure he saw Mrs. Weasley's gaze tighten as she looked at them, as though she disapproved of him bonding with Sirius.
"Ignore Molly," Sirius said, catching the look too. "She thinks I'm going to blab about the Order. She's with Dumbledore, reckons you shouldn't be told anything, but the way I see it you have a right to know. Besides, Amelia's already thrown a Kneazle amongst the owls anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry asked for your help soon as it is."
"Me?"
"Can you think of a better poster boy for the war against Voldemort?"
No, he couldn't. But that didn't mean he liked the idea of posing for photos and doing interviews with Aurors or worse the Prophet.
The rest of the day passed without much incident. After gathering up his gifts for Daphne and her family, Harry and the others visited Mr. Weasley. It wasn't easy. Mr. Weasley, despite Harry's protestations, proclaimed that he was incredibly grateful to Harry. They all were. It didn't stop Harry from being unable to shake the feeling that he'd done it. After all, he'd been the snake, hadn't he? Daphne had done her best to stop his fears, as the only one he'd told about them, but there was a stain he couldn't wash away. No matter how hard he tried.
Before he knew it, Lupin had taken him away from the Weasleys and they had apparated to the exterior of Greengrass Manor. After a softly spoken 'Merry Christmas' and the wish of luck from Lupin, who informed him that someone from the Order would be at the Burrow ready to take him back to Headquarters, Harry walked up the gravel path that now somehow felt almost like home. The crunch under his feet, the swaying motion of the vicious plants in the garden that seemed to be thriving despite the harsh weather, the pale walled exterior and the grand windows that let in incredible amounts of light during the summer, all of it. It was safe. For the first time since he'd left the hospital, he felt his muscles relax. He looked up at the manor for a moment, this place that should've been an edifice of wealth and pureblood purity was somehow more homely than Privet Drive had ever been. It breathed personality. On the front steps, he could see Matthias' abandoned gardening boots, while the sleek Bently he'd bought to escort Harry to and from Privet Drive gleamed in the driveway.
"You gonna stare, or d'you fancy coming in?" Astoria, unbeknownst to Harry, had appeared behind him. Her bright face was the image of festive cheer. She was wearing a dark red jumper that combined well with her brown hair, along with a flowing skirt and thick tights to protect against the biting winter air. If anyone had asked him before meeting her if she was related to Daphne, he'd have told them they were joking. "And before you ask, no, I wasn't creepily waiting for you. Dad sent me to look for you, Daph's tied up." She gave him a wink that felt entirely inappropriate. "C'mon, food'll be soon. And we can't keep them waiting for the guest of honour."
"I'm really not -" But Astoria shook her head, grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the house.
"If you say so," Astoria said airly, letting him know that she would happily ignore whatever he said. "Merry Christmas, by the way. Have you had a good day? You were at the Weasleys, right?"
"Yeah. And, er, Merry Christmas." It always amazed him how she managed to fire off thoughts like a Gatling gun.
"Thank you. What's it like? The famous Burrow? Draco says it's built on a pig sty. I know it isn't, of course," she added before Harry could indigently interrupt. "But it's always interesting, you know, what other families' houses are like. Manors are all so mind-numbingly the same. Big windows, portraits of old people who shacked up with their cousins or second-cousins or third-cousins. Luna's is cool, they've got this amazing printing press. It's huge! Her dad uses it for the Quibbler, he said I could have a go next time I'm there. Doubt Weasley's lot has that though."
"No," Harry admitted, taking the chance to get a word in when he could. "They don't. It's pretty cool though."
"Oh, yeah?"
Harry tried to think of a way of describing it that didn't admit it actually had been built on the site of an old pigpen. It had never bothered him, but he couldn't stand the idea of stoking Malfoy's disparaging rumours. "I think so. Better than my aunt and uncles."
"I can't imagine that's especially difficult. Not that muggle architecture isn't interesting, quite the opposite. This place was muggle once, 'til dad's great, great something-or-other took it over." They had entered into the grand entrance room, for it could not quite be described as a 'hall', although it wasn't far off. "But they're clean freaks, aren't they? The muggles, I mean?"
"Aunt Petunia is," Harry corrected, "I don't think Uncle Vernon's ever cleaned anything in his life." And Dudley didn't even know what a vacuum cleaner was, never mind how to use one.
Astoria snorted at that. "He gave me that vibe. I saw them when they came to pick you up last year. Can't say they look amazing people."
"They're not."
"Dad's not fond either, which is weird 'cause he likes everyone. Mum does too. Merlin knows where Daph gets it from. You know, the scowl thing." Astoria did an overly enthusiastic impression of what she thought was Daphne's trademark glare. "Well, they must've done something right once. You're here." Somehow that made Harry feel worse. He didn't like the idea of the Dursleys' getting any credit for him. "And you've made that dear sister of mine a right pain in the arse to live with, so thanks for that."
"Me? What've I done?"
"You'll see. It's nothing bad, don't worry. Just she's been." Astoria made a small explosion noise with her lips and spread her hands out from an invisible orb. "You know?"
"Not really."
"Boys," Astoria sighed as if that was enough to explain his lack of understanding. Harry was saved from having to defend his gender by their arrival in the dining room, which until that point he hadn't realised could be reached through a swinging hidden door built into the back of one of the display cases.
A giant Christmas sat in front of the windows that looked out onto the manicured lawn and each branch had some kind of trinket or bauble. The great star at the top of the tree shone an incredible golden colour, bathing the top most branches in a similar hue as stardust descended on the rest of the tree like snow.
The display case they'd entered through was adorned with tinsel and a series of moving miniature figures acting out a variety of scenes behind the glass doors. There was jousting, a tiny Santa giving presents to kids, and a flying Chaser throwing snowballs at everyone else. Candles bobbed above them, wax drippings turning to snow and then evaporating before they connected with anything. It must've taken ages, even with magic.
It made the sad fake tree his aunt and uncle rolled out every year look terrible. It had been fine until one year Dudley had sat on it and bent it the wrong way. Not wanting to make Dudley upset, Aunt Petunia had refused to buy a new one. So they had a wonky tree and Dudley complained anyway about how terrible it was anyway.
"Best not go through there," Astoria said, pointing to the kitchen. "Mum'll throw something at you if you get in the way."
"It's true," Matthias said from his seat at the dining table. He was wearing a truly awful knitted sweater that proclaimed the motto 'Have a very Puddle Christmas' beneath two twinned brooms and a flying Quaffle. "Hello, Harry! Lovely to see you again, take a seat. It shouldn't be long now."
"Hi, Matthias." It still felt weird to call him anything other than 'sir' or Daphne's dad. But after weeks in his home, he could hardly continue with formalities. "Merry Christmas."
"And to you, son." His eyes were drawn to the Weasley jumper. "We match! Sort of. This got rejected by the board for being too festive, but I still managed to nab one. Rosie, that's Tracey's mother, hated it but I think it's rather fetching. Not as good as yours, mind you. I do love a homemade jumper."
"Mrs. Weasley makes them every year."
"Does she now? Do you think I could get her to make me one?"
"Have you ever met her, dad?" Astoria asked interestedly and without the scathing tone of her sister.
"No, but why should that matter?"
"Because it's probably a family thing?"
Matthias considered this. "Is it a family thing, Harry?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Damn." His face could barely hold onto the fake sadness for even a second. "We should make jumpers, or hats, maybe scarves?"
"Please don't take up knitting, you have enough hobbies." Astoria's plea was of a child who had clearly watched her father jump from fad to fad like a kid on a sugar high.
"True enough, I suppose." He shrugged, the movement making the brooms on his chest warp and twist for a moment so they appeared to be splintered and broken. The conversation turned back to Harry's Christmas and the condition of Mr Weasley, who apparently Matthias had been told about at King's Cross. There was something else behind his smiling eyes, but he didn't press Harry on the topic. At least, not until Astoria had left to go check on the food.
"They mentioned something about you seeing Ron's father get attacked, is that right, Harry?"
"Erm." After all, what else could he say? How much could he tell them? How much did Matthias even want to know? How much could Harry bring himself to tell him?
"We don't have to talk about it, son. In fact, I imagine you're probably sick of it. So, instead, I just wanted to say that if you want any help then we're more than happy to do anything we can. Occlumency probably isn't a bad idea, have you ever heard of Occlumency?" Harry shook his head. "Okay, so, it's basically a way of protecting your mind from magical attacks. Kind of like putting your stuff in a safe in the muggle world. 'Rora's got a bit of training, I could see if she'd be happy to show you what she knows?"
"That would be great," Harry had never heard of Occlumency but if it was something that would stop him from seeing that damn corridor every night then he'd take it.
"Right then, well, that's a plan. And I think, ah yes!" Matthias exclaimed as food hovered through the door. Plates laden with cheeses and grapes and fruits Harry had never even seen before were making their way to the table. It took him a moment to realise that this was Aurora's influence. Aurora followed the plates, her wand held aloft and behind her was Daphne. Any thoughts of Occlumency were banished as she entered the room. Even after a year, she still made his heart miss a beat and the small telltale grin that he knew only she could elicit from him spread across his face. He didn't care that Astoria watched on eagerly, no doubt saving the information for gossip with her friends.
Clad in a knitted dark grey dress, which she had accompanied with a silver necklace the pendant of which was in the shape of a snowflake and the matching watch she had worn at the Yule Ball, she was the picture of beauty. Not that she'd agree. Daphne had a habit of deflecting compliments like some kind of praise-avoiding ninja.
That didn't stop him though. As her mother set down the food and Astoria and Matthias gleefully complimented the spread, Harry pulled her into a quick hug and said, "You look incredible."
"Someone's keen." He could hear her smirk as her breath gently tickled against his ear. His heart raced as if threatening to burst from his chest. She kissed him gently on the cheek and took a step back, but not before interlacing her fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Nice jumper."
"Ron's mum knitted it," interrupted Astoria. "Dad wants one."
"Of course you do," Daphne said good-naturedly, shaking her head and joining the table.
"I think it's rather fetching," Matthias added cheerfully as he helped himself to a rather large portion of cheese.
Daphne scoffed. "You're wearing a crime against Christmas."
"Harry likes it."
"Harry's too nice to tell you it's awful," Daphne shot back.
"All right you two," Daphne's mother interjected, "save it for after the food."
Which was a good idea because it was incredible. Harry, who had paced himself at Grimmauld Place, was glad for the foresight. After the starter came an array of plates and trays, one holding the largest turkey Harry had ever seen, two huge bowls of roast potatoes, parsnips, sprouts (which Daphne loaded onto her plate despite Astoria blanching at her), peas, cauliflower cheese, bizarrely potato croquettes that Matthias apparently requested every year, and a mountain of Yorkshire puddings.
Just when he thought he was full, Aurora appeared with a large cake that looked like the combination of bread and a sweet treat that she said was called a Panettone, accompanied by small round chocolate Toto cookies and a chocolate Yule log that was almost instantly claimed by Astoria for the first slice.
After a lot of compliments were given to Aurora for her sensational cooking, they moved from the Dining Room into a large Living Room. Harry knew they barely used it from his time there in the summer, but he and Daphne had often wound up on one of the plush sofas. He settled into the smaller of the light grey sofas, accompanied by Daphne, while Aurora and Matthias took the larger one. Astoria was given the job of divvying up the presents from under another large Christmas tree, apparently because she was the youngest. This tree was draped in green tinsel instead of red. Harry was told to add his presents to the pile before Astoria mixed them up.
"It's tradition," Daphne said, "dad started it. I think it's because he's too full to move at this point."
"Mum to dad," Astoria called as she threw a large red present to her father.
"It's nice." Harry tried not to wonder what his Christmases would've been like. Would his parents have had similar traditions? Were they even Christmas people? He felt himself grip her hand a little tighter than he'd intended. She didn't say anything but nestled her head against his shoulder, thankfully not drawing attention to his momentary lapse of enjoyment.
"Dad to Daph." The moment was broken as Daphne had to hastily catch a medium-sized parcel wrapped in golden wrapping paper decorated with candy canes. "Me to Harry." Harry caught a rectangular box. "Mum to me." Astoria grinned as she yanked a large parcel towards herself. "And Daph to mum."
They went on like that for a few minutes, each getting a present from Astoria and then tearing into them to find out what was inside. Daphne's father was given a variety of gardening and Quidditch-themed gifts - the Quidditch presents were mainly from Harry who hadn't known what to get him. Astoria received an overwhelming amount of Black Kneazles merchandise, her favourite band, and their latest collection of records from Daphne. Aurora, who had installed a library in the east side of the house, had an entire stack of books to add to her collection - including some muggle novels Harry had asked Hermione about as she had complained over the summer about wanting to diversify her collection.
Daphne's parents bought her a new set of paintbrushes, while Astoria gave her sister a new necklace, matching earrings and a monogrammed sketchbook. Harry was given a rather delicious-looking collection of chocolate cauldrons by Astoria and Aurora and Matthias got him -
"I thought you might like to see a game or two," Matthias said, "and I wasn't sure if you supported anyone so." Harry stared. Season tickets to Puddlemere United fell into his lap. They'd likely been discounted but still, this was too much. It was definitely too much when he saw that the tickets gave him a free lunch, as many drinks as he wanted and VIP dining with ex-players and autographs from the squad after the game. "I thought we could all go at some point. Make a day of it. Or just you and Daphne. It's up to you, son."
"And that one is from me," Aurora smiled as Harry unwrapped a small leather-bound album. Upon opening it he realised it wasn't a photo album at all, but instead a collection of letters, or more precisely, snippets from letters. They were the ones Aurora had been sent during the summer or at least those that openly supported him. At the front, magically tacked onto the inside front cover, was the article Aurora had written. "I thought you might like a reminder that no matter how bad things get, there are people out there who believe you."
"I - I, erm, thank you." There was really nothing else he could say.
"Now it's just you two," Astoria said, looking up from the fan magazine her father had got her. Grateful for the excuse to not have to say anything else, Harry hastily picked up Daphne's present.
"You first," Daphne said a little apprehensively. Her gift to him came in a rather long box that she'd been eyeing rather nervously throughout the entire process, which only made him more curious.
Beneath the wrapping paper was a medium-sized canvas which, when he turned it over, he realised that it was the sketch of Hogwarts she'd been doing when they'd first talked about the Defence Club. Only this wasn't a sketch, but a fully detailed oil painting. Bold strokes of the lightest blue made up the sky, while intricate brushwork detailed the huge castle. She'd even added the lake where they so often sat the previous summer, complete with the tail of one of the merpeople flicking out of the water. A small nod to the Second Task.
Unlike muggle paintings though, the longer he looked at it the more he realised that tiny portions of the detail actually moved. The merperson's tail flicked lazily in the dappled sunlight, tiny moving figures occasionally blocked the windows of the castle and whisps of cloud moved across the sky. The effect was breathtaking.
"You said you liked it so, I thought - It's okay if you don't. You don't have to keep it. It's just - well I - do you like it?"
"It's perfect. Really, Daph. This is amazing, no, you're amazing." He set it down gently on the floor and hugged her. When they broke apart, Astoria said, "See, told you he'd like it."
"Shut up." There were hints of tears in her eyes but she blinked them away.
"Your turn. Sorry, it's not as creative as yours." He'd spent a lot of time trying to think of the perfect present for Daphne. It wasn't easy, buying something for someone who had literally everything they could ever want and who had a habit of buying anything they liked when they saw it. But he hoped he'd done a good job.
"Harry." In her hands sat a silver-framed photo from the Defence Club, which Colin had taken on their penultimate meeting before the holidays. At the centre of the group was he and Daphne, her hair tied up as it always was at the Defence Club, her smile bright and her arm was slipped around his waist. The rest of the club waved at them and, when Daphne turned it over, she noticed the small note he'd written on the back. The first of our many adventures.
"Sorry, it's not much."
"No, it's great." She squeezed his hand, which was all he needed to know that really did like it.
"Oh, and there's this." He'd nearly forgotten, digging in his pocket he pulled out a small parcel that he'd had to ask Hermione to help him wrap. "It's just a daft little thing. Tracey mentioned something about the First Task, so I thought why not?" What Tracey had actually told him was that Daphne had first started 'fancying the crap out of him' because of his performance against the dragon, and so out of the parcel clambered the small Hungarian Horntail that he'd picked out of the bag Crouch had offered him. It blinked in the candlelight before climbing into Daphne's hand and curling up.
"You prat." But her smile told him it had been a good idea.
"Speaking of extra presents. There's something else from all of us," Matthias said, passing the final gift to him. It was most definitely a book but he would never have been able to guess what was inside. "I know you and Daphne did some digging earlier in the year and a few days ago she asked if we could…" He looked to his wife for help.
"Formalise it."
"Exactly. So, here it is. It's taken a bit of digging let me tell you." In Harry's hands sat the Complete and Verified History of the Potter Family. "I came up with the name."
"And Daph and I did the final bits of research," Aurora said fondly.
"And what about me?"
"Right, yes, of course. And our darling girl Astoria got it bound and made up," Matthias amended.
"And I asked them to leave some extra pages at the back, in case you want to make any notes or anything."
"Or add any unexpected additions to the Potter family," Matthias said with a wry smile.
"Dad!" The shout came from Daphne while Astoria began cackling at her sister's mortified expression.
"What?"
"You're so embarrassing. Ignore him, Harry."
"It pays to be sensible about these things. I certainly never expected to have children as young as I was," Matthias carried on. "Look at your Great Aunt Esmerelda or even Rosie. Her and Jason would've never -"
"I think that's enough of that," Aurora interjected and, being the only person capable of shutting her husband up, he obeyed.
"Right, of course, well, Merry Christmas," he finished rather feebly. He cleared his throat and made a fuss about clearing up all the wrapping paper before asking loudly if there was any more dessert. He and Aurora disappeared and were followed out of the room by Astoria, but not before the girl had wrapped Harry in a gigantic hug for her Black Kneazle's hat. That left the two of them alone for the first time that day.
"Sorry about him."
"No, it's fine." And it was but it had made him realise something, he'd never imagined a family. Not one of his own. He'd always dreamt of the one he'd lost but never the one he might yet have. "It's sweet, I think?"
"It's embarrassing and terrible is what it is. Not that I wouldn't -"
"Daph." But she was too far gone to hear him.
"It's just talking about it in front of -"
"Daph."
"Them is just so -"
"Daph!"
She faltered, dragging herself from whatever internal spiral was grabbing her. Slowly she managed to drag her gaze to meet his. "Sorry. I just didn't want you to think anything, you know, bad."
"Like I ever could with you."
"Ugh, you're the worst."
"Love you, too." She let out a small chuckle and gently kissed him. It wasn't passionate, whenever they were at Greengrass Manor it rarely was, but that didn't stop it from being exactly what he wanted.
"Hey, c'mon, I've got an idea." He'd spied the small gramophone when they'd entered the room but he hadn't really paid it any attention. He was careful to select a record from the stack that he knew Daphne liked, mainly because it was the Wyrd Sisters, before he placed it gingerly onto the turntable and set the needle into the record's first groove. He turned to Daphne as the Wyrd Sisters began singing about sunlit summer days. Not the best timing, but it would do.
"Miss Greengrass, may I have this dance?"
He expected a sarcastic response but was pleasantly surprised when he saw her smile. "Why Mister Potter, I never thought you'd ask."
Her touch was electric. They may not be in formal robes and elegant gowns, but Harry couldn't help being transported back to the Yule Ball. One year ago. Had it really been that long? But in the same breath, he couldn't imagine his life without Daphne. He just hoped he'd never have to.
AN: Apologies for the slight delay with this one, but this is the longest chapter I've ever had for this story and I want to try and move towards the larger snippets rather than consecutive chapters as we move through the years. But there'll be some variety. It felt weird to be writing a Christmasy chapter when it's so hot, but I hope you all enjoy it!