But I wanted a Pony
Chapter 1. It's the next day of the rest of Harry's life.
Harry rolled over in bed- and there were, as usual, at least three of his children crowding the bed. He reached over and stroked the hip of his wife, who made the sort of soft grunt she made in her sleep. He put on his glasses and eyed the children. Three of the quints. Three children between him and kissing Daphne's neck, holding her hip and….
It had been weeks now since they'd officially been released from ICW custody, and every single night, every morning, there were children in his bed. Harry looked over at them. He loved them, but he also wanted, desperately to make lazy, morning love to his wife in bed.
He spent the day playing with his children. A quick refresher on basic broom-skills then some seven-on-one quidditch. But to make it fair, he used a Cleansweep. He at least got to kiss Daphne's hand very slowly at lunch. Her ears went a bit pink, so he felt that he'd done that right. Mrs Foster politely ignored him lingering over Daphne's hand.
The next morning, he held his wife's elbow as they went down to the kitchen for breakfast, alone.
"Yeas dear?" asked Daphne.
"The children" said Harry "They… we haven't had a night alone in bed since…"
"Eighteen days," said Daphne. "Eighteen days." she repeated. "Andromeda says she thinks that our incarceration permanently traumatized them and they just… want their mummy and daddy."
"Well this daddy wants mummy," said Harry quietly.
"Look – we can squeeze one in, in the shower tomorrow morning if we're quick," said Daphne.
"But Andromeda said Permanent ?" said Harry, with a hint of a squeak.
"Love, she's not a professional at that. And… besides, they will all be at Hogwarts in under seven years."
"Seven years?" said Harry, his hand slipping onto Daphne's bum.
"Well… there's the guest bedrooms halfway down the front stair… we could… get lost on the way to breakfast?"
"I love you," murmured Harry.
"Get a move on – I want two before kippers" said Daphne, hurrying down the stairs.
They walked into the kitchen a tiny bit dishevelled, forty minutes later. But… the problem was solved, for now, at least. Harry eyed Daphne across toast and seven squealing children. She looked divine.
-==0==-
Andromeda suggested they take a family holiday to the island – in the warm season. Harry paid their usual repair-wizard to take a portkey over and rebuild the hut… with seven more bedrooms.
And found that the pool, could be… Daphne smiled indulgently, "Not just for exercise." The children would flee, revolted by the kissing, after two minutes of romantic smooching… so they could erm… cast a few privacy charms and do something quick and dirty.
Daphne smouldered up at him from the pool-lounger "Thank you dear" she purred "I needed that."
Harry felt that he'd needed that too. Also – Daphne had taken to smouldering in a bikini at other times, which was unfair, he felt. Harry's pants were nearly permanently uncomfortable.
Harry took reinforcements to the island, by inviting the Delacour-Weasleys, and Hermione. And Tracey, as she seemed a good mostly-aunt.
Theo Nott built massive sand-castles, that Hermione charmed to be child-proof. Caph tested the charms thoroughly.
Harry took Daphne swimming by the reef, and by wearing the children out with organized activities, they had some of the evenings to kiss romantically. And things.
Daphne sat on his lap at breakfast, looking satiated.
"Daddy?" asked Caph.
Harry looked over – she had food and drink.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I want a pony" she said.
"Caph, you can't have a pony. I'm sorry" said Harry.
"Can I have a pony?" asked Hesper.
Harry froze and looked at Daphne who rolled her eyes. The problem was that every child knew they could ask – and inevitably the last one would benefit from all the wearng-down their siblings had done.
"Sorry Hesper, no ponies" said Harry.
"Daddy!" pouted Caph. "But I will love it so much. Grandmama says mummy loved her pony."
"I'm sorry dears," said Daphne, "but we can't risk it."
Effie and Estelle fixed Harry with identical puppy-dog eyes and pouted. Everyone thought they were twins. They were um, quintuplet-slices, but fraternal, thank goodness. Five identical children would have, Harry mused, been too hard to handle. He leaned over and kissed their foreheads. "Sorry dears. No ponies." he said, and felt like a heel.
The holiday had to end eventually – Hermione and the Delacour-Weasleys had to go back to Britain.
On the last night, Fleur made bouillabaisse and seafood salad, and Bill grilled over a dozen small fish. Harry made chips, and Andromeda made a fruit punch with a lot of 'help' from Teddy, who'd harvested the fruit and some help from Altair and Caph, who'd seen Teddy's haul of fruit and gone off and come back with twice as much. Not exactly ripe fruit. Harry had no idea what to do with a crate-full of green-ish mangos, but Daphne rolled her eyes "We'll give it to Jimmy, he'll think of something."
"Next holiday you should bring Jimmy", said Caph, "He's a better cook than all of you."
Daphne took third helpings of seafood salad, and Harry lifted his eyebrows.
"I like seafood," said Daphne firmly. "Get over it."
The Delacour-Weasleys and Hermione et al, left by portkey the next morning.
Harry decided they could stay on for a bit.
After an entire day of seven children saying they were bored every ten minutes, Harry sent a patronus to Mrs Foster, warning her of their impending arrival, and started herding children. But they had an entire island to be bored and hard to find in. Once Andromeda had chained them up (He really needed to learn that spell, Harry thought, black chains coming out of the ground was cool,) he activated the portkey, and they went home. The long trip by portkey was nauseating. They landed on the gravel at home, and Daphne, Sirius and Caph were actually sick, though Hesper and Stella looked very green too. Harry got up off the gravel, having merely got gravel-rash, and started helping.
Mrs Foster bustled out the front door, took one look and started casting cleaning charms.
Daphne leaned on his arm, "I shall have words with daddy about that portkey," she said, looking pale "The one going there was fine. I asked for a portkey, not a… fairground ride."
Harry wondered if saying 'Portkeys are always horrible for me,' was a good idea, but Daphne groaned queasily, and he thought better of it.
-==0==-
They had lunch late in the kitchen, and the children ate the oddly huge piles of delicious pies and pasties, talking animatedly, waving half-eaten pies and sausage rolls and calling out to Jimmy, saying he was the best. But Jimmy had evidently judged the ravenous appetites of the children well as there was no sign of the food running out.
"What are we going to do," asked Harry, into Daphne's ear.
"Much as I dread saying this," said Daphne "We'll just have to emulate mummy, and tell them that mummy and daddy need private time at night for kissing and… snogging."
"That's not so hard," said Harry.
"And then when Hesper or Stella or Effie says she can just close her eyes, then we have to… say no, you're not allowed… just" said Daphne.
"Special mummy and daddy cuddling" said Harry. "God I feel like a berk," he whispered.
"Berk who hasn't had decent sex in months" said Daphne "We had more in prison!"
"Are you saying you want to get chained up and teased," whispered Harry into her ear.
"You're such a pervert" said Daphne, with a giggle. "Not till they're older. I have the worst memory of seeing mummy, well… anyway. So far, we get the odd shag. It's time to claim back our bed."
"Or just use the guest bedroom" said Harry, trying not to imagine Daphne's mum doing – stuff.
"They come looking for us if they're not feeding" said Daphne. "I blame you for wanting one more child."
"I'm a little sorry we have seven, but they're… they're pretty great. They're nearly beating the Weasley kids at Quidditch already."
"Caph plays worse than the old Slytherin team" said Daphne. "She's always accidentally putting forks in her elbow pads."
Harry didn't know what to say about that. Victoire, Dominique and Louis were very good, verging on abnormally good on a broom, and Caph would try to even the odds somehow. Bill tried to look innocent when Harry asked how Louis, who also was only eight could fly like a teenager, and Harry had never seen Fleur on a broom – ever. It was certainly partly being a Weasley, as Uncle Charlie was verging on brilliant when he visited. But Bill still looked smug, and Fleur said things in French that Daphne didn't translate if Caph injured her children with the almost ever-present forks.
"Altair's good" said Harry.
"Altair's banned from several countries for attempting to bribe the ICW" said Daphne. "Daddy will doubtless give him a talk on how to do that properly one day."
"Sirius" said Harry, grasping at straws. And it had probably been Caph putting Altair up to that.
"Is convinced he has to get a motorbike like grandpa Sirius." said Daphne. "Who told him?"
"Um. Not sure. Andy or Hagrid. I think."
"Shut up and kiss me," said Daphne.
Harry got right on to that.
-==0==-
Daphne got home from Black Books, stepping out of the floo. Jimmy handed her a smoking mug.
"It's herbal" he said. "I've found two mugs a day and I don't get headaches."
"You get headaches?" asked Daphne, frowning. Surely he'd have said.
"Well, they're yours, but I'm here all day" said Jimmy with a wry smile.
"Where is my husband?" asked Daphne, drinking the mug full.
"He's pruning outside." said Jimmy.
Daphne swigged the mug – which tasted far better than her mother's best concoction, and went out to find him. Her lingering portkey-nausea faded.
Tweedle pointed her in the direction of the ruin of the barn. "He's over there maam, lots of disturbed ground. Weeds."
Daphne walked over to the few remaining stones still standing from the barn, and found Harry standing, in black jeans and a green shirt, cursing out foxgloves. They withered and blackened at delicate jabs of his wand. His glasses glinted in the sinking sun, and his ridiculously attractive cheekbones caught shadows. If he was wearing old-school robes he'd look like the scion of a dark and powerful family. Daphne licked her lips.
"Harry," said Daphne, and he lowered his wand, turned his head and smiled slightly. She checked him for dirt, thorns, or badly healed wounds. He seemed whole and un-marred.
"How was the office?" asked Harry. Daphne walked closer.
"Sometimes I think I'm the only sane person I know," said Daphne. She rolled her eyes, and Harry smiled at her. Well, smouldered. Which was unreasonable – they'd been married over ten years. Surely one should develop some resistance to crooked smiles from tall dark handsome husbands.
"If it's any consolation, you're the least mad person I know," said Harry, "not counting the staff – Foster and Jimmy and Tweedle are rock-solid." And he smiled toothily. "Is Tracey into the coffee again?"
"She's trying to start a cheese club," admitted Daphne. "Are you hiding from the children?"
"No, I'm weeding," said Harry, "Which is boring adult stuff, so they wander off."
Daphne pondered that, "But are you leaving them unsupervised?"
"No. The pool's charmed shut, the upstairs windows don't open, and I don't see why we'd bother fixing them, Jimmy's charmed the basement door shut, and more significantly … they're at your mothers." said Harry.
"My mothers?"
"She's teaching them to paint, apparently." said Harry. "One of them's bound to be as talented as you."
Daphne blushed, remembering years of watercolours, none of which looked like anything, and slightly less years of painting in oils – which mostly ended up brown on brown, with brown.
"I'm not actually a good painter," said Daphne.
"Rubbish," said Harry, "Your mum showed me your best stuff – it looks like what it's a painting of. I've only ever painted fences and a shed."
Daphne smiled ruefully. Harry could be so generous.
"Well, are we going to my mother's to get the children?" asked Daphne.
"Oh I dunno," said Harry, "I find myself in the grounds with my dear wife." He smiled a crooked, salacious smile.
Mother could… Daphne supposed, hold onto the children for a little-bit before dinner.
A little later – straightening up their clothes, they flooed off to mummy's house. Daphne felt quite calm.
There was noise from the ballroom that sounded like children being 'good,' so Daphne headed off there – while Harry ducked into the parlour.
The ballroom had been transformed by a large drop-cloths and easels into an art studio.
Daddy was sitting in a wing chair, indulgently looking across at seven children at easels, painting. Mummy was talking to Sirius.
"It's grandpa Sirius on his motorbike" said Sirius. Daphne strolled over to look. There were two blobby circles, and a black stick figure on an otherwise blank sheet of cardboard.
Harry found Daphne's gran sitting in the parlour with her feet up, sipping tea, the fire glowing.
"Oh Harry," she said, "Your children are with Roxanne in the ballroom – I got a little tired." she admitted. Which was candid of her.
"The constant chatter?" asked Harry.
"They're children," said Daphne's Gran, "and I'm a great-grandmother. I'm allowed to get tired, and go sit quietly with a cup of tea and a biscuit."
Harry nodded.
"And besides – your Caph tries to cadge biscuits off me," she added more sharply. "So I'm in here."
Harry smiled a slight grimace.
"Look, at least she's not as shy as poor Daphne was," said her Gran.
"I wish she was a little more like her mother," admitted Harry.
"Oh don't be silly – children come out how they come out," said her gran, "My Cyrus isn't exactly what I'd hoped for. But he loves Roxanne and the girls, and clucks over his grandchildren."
"Daphne isn't his biggest fan these days," admitted Harry.
"Oh Cyrus told me all about his plan," said Daphne's nice old, silver-haired gran. "He was so proud of himself at the time," she shrugged, "He likes to think he's clever, but he just likes books."
Harry resisted saying anything rude about her son, his father-in-law.
"I might have drunk a bit much while I was pregnant with him," she added, "I'm so glad you and Daphne were so responsible about yours. They're all bright."
"Cyrus isn't … stupid," said Harry.
"He thinks he's a genius," said – Harry realised, Cyrus's mum, "As Daphne may have said, a blessed portkey to France would have done just as well… but I think it worked out for the best – Daphne's flourished with your care, and while seven is … a lot, you two have made a good job of raising them so far."
"There have been a few problems," said Harry euphemistically.
"Altair is his sister's minion," said Daphne's gran firmly. "Cyrus was like that with his sister till he started noticing girls. Though… I do rather fear for the gels of Hogwarts when he does – like his father, devastatingly handsome, clever, and doubtless powerful."
"To be honest," admitted Harry, "I'm more worried about Caph at Hogwarts."
"Well, there's always Durmstrang," said her Gran.
"I couldn't send my children to Durmstrang," exclaimed Harry.
"Let me tell you a secret – Durmstrang is a very useful school. Threaten them with Durmstrang if they act up, or transfer to Beauxbatons. It's a widely used threat here in Britain."
Harry frowned.
"Well Caph is a special case," admitted Daphne's gran.
-==0==-
"Daph?" asked Harry as he wandered into the ensuite at nearly bedtime. Daphne looked up from the sink, where she was washing her face.
"Mmm?" she said.
"I was talking to your gran," said Harry.
"I was busy herding wild beasts," said Daphne. She did turn to look at him. She narrowed her eyes minutely – which probably meant tell me.
"And, um, she said Cyrus had bragged to her about the whole betrothal plan. Um…. Before the Yule part when we decided to um…" said Harry. Daphne blushed. 'Oh I miss seeing that,' thought Harry.
"So, she already knew?" asked Daphne, her eyes darting off to one side.
"I suppose so" said Harry. He sighed.
"Are you saying you regret… drinking cognac and snogging?" asked Daphne, putting a hand on one hip.
"I regret that our first shag was rubbish" said Harry. "Why couldn't Hermione have given us a sensible book as a wedding present?"
"She gave us Lord of the Rings, a boxed set" said Daphne.
"Oh," said Harry, "that's where that came from." Daphne shook her head and went back to washing.
As they settled into bed Daphne said "I just wish mummy could have been a little less abrupt in her sex talk to me. If she'd broken it to me gently I wouldn't have got Tracey to pinch memory loss potion from her mum's call-bag."
"How blunt was it?" asked Harry.
"I was apparently horrified," said Daphne, "She – look, when I was thirteen I barged into the study and Mummy was on the desk tied up and daddy was using a horse-crop on her bum."
"She what?" asked Harry. Oh god – she really is like that.
"You heard me. Then she started trying to explain that it was just a game." Daphne added.
"Oh blimey" said Harry.
"I spent the rest of the summer at Tracey's." said Daphne. "Mummy was nearly mental when I got on the Hogwarts express, she kept saying that she loved me and not to let it put me off. Course, I did snog Jean-Claude after the Yule ball," Daphne stopped talking.
Harry sat up on one elbow and looked over at Daphne, who was looking embarrassed.
"You kissed some French boy?"
"He was a good kisser," said Daphne, "But honestly, not as good as you." Harry frowned.
"Not as good as the second time you kissed me," Daphne added. "Our wedding kiss was – "
"Let's not talk about it." said Harry smoothly.
"Harry?" said Daphne, lips thin and eyes narrowing, "I was dosed to the eyeballs on calming draught. That morning I vomited up my breakfast."
Harry blinked and stared at Daphne, who was biting her lip.
"You… were really worried?" asked Harry.
"I had no idea what I was getting into. You'd learnt to dance, yeah, but you'd also blown up the basement like it was nothing."
"I was showing off," admitted Harry.
"Well obviously, to your fiancée." said Daphne. "I half expect you'd try to snog me in the basement."
"You were far too angry to kiss" said Harry.
"I felt powerless and… you were so bloody smug," said Daphne.
"I was just standing around trying not to stuff up really," said Harry. "If Hermione had given me a book about um… stuff when I turned sixteen."
"Ginevra Weasley would have finished school pregnant and smug," said Daphne archly.
"Would you like to be smug?" asked Harry.
Daphne smiled "thank Merlin I can't get pregnant," she said, and crooked a finger at Harry.