Remus
Remus smiles softly to himself as he hears the sound of Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville burst into laughter at something Neville had said.
"Your Harry is so cute," Mrs. Granger says, raising her glass of wine to her lips. "And Neville- what a darling. Are they twins? You said that this was a double birthday celebration?"
"Neville isn't mine. He's another friend of Harry's, like Ron," Remus says, shaking his head. "That said, his birthday was yesterday. Nothing more than a fun coincidence, though."
"Were those boys involved in the troll incident too?" Mr. Granger asks suddenly. Mrs. Granger shoots her husband a glare, and he shrugs.
Remus laughs uncomfortably. "I'm not so sure about Ron, but Harry and Neville were- damn near gave me a heart-attack."
"Us too," Mr. Granger agrees, looking queasy. "We seriously considered pulling Hermione from school."
Remus nods sympathetically. "The thought crossed my mind as well," he admits. "But Harry would never forgive me."
"That's what we decided too," Mrs. Granger sighs.
"I guess we need to trust in our kids- they're just growing up so fast," Mr. Granger says, taking a sip from his own glass.
"Mm," Remus hums, turning his attention back to where Harry and his friends are and fighting down the rush of guilt he feels as he thinks of Harry growing up in his Aunt's house- with only Merlin to talk to.
"Hang on," Mrs. Granger says suddenly, sitting up straight and shading her eyes. "Has that giant snake been real this whole time?"
Remus laughs. "That she is- she's Harry's familiar."
"Should we be getting Hermione a familiar?" Mr. Granger asks, looking a bit disgusted as his eyes track Merlin.
"I don't have one," Remus says, shrugging and pushing aside the spike of indignation he feels on Merlin's behalf. "I wouldn't worry about it unless an animal shows up and starts following her around."
"Wizards are just so odd," Mrs. Granger says, watching the kids. "I don't know if I'll ever get it."
"You will," Remus says. "My mother managed. Give it time."
The three lapse into a comfortable silence as they watch the children burst into another round of delighted laughter as Harry summons a couple dozen ribbons of light to chase the butterflies around.
Neville
"I'm sorry, Trevor," Neville pleads.
The toad doesn't even bother turning around.
"It's too dangerous! Not to mention, you keep running away. This is for the best and you know it. You'll have more fun staying here for the school year anyways."
Trevor lets out a little ribbit and hops off. Neville sighs and rubs his face.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," he mutters.
Neville stands up from where he'd been sitting on the floor, stretching as he does. That had been a much longer conversation than it had any right to be, considering the fact that Trevor is for all intents and purposes, a completely normal toad.
Neville checks his watch, then smiles to himself. There's still time before dinner to check on his plants. Neville wastes no time in making his way out of the manor and over to where the greenhouses are.
Gran had given Neville free rein over one of them as a Christmas/Yule present, which Neville thinks might be the best present he's ever received.
Neville opens the door, whistling to himself. He grins in delight as he sees his little garden- the section with muggle plants, the plot with the clippings he'd managed to forage from the forest, the pot with Hagrid's mystery seeds (Neville thinks- he can't be certain, of course, but he thinks they might be baby Whomping Willows), and the shaded corner where his devil's snare is thriving.
Neville lets out a little sigh of relief as he feels everything relax. Here is where Neville can really be himself. He doesn't have to worry about his Gran's expectations, or his magic, or anything. He can just spend time with his plants.
A lot of his summer has been spent here. After the debacle that was last year, Neville had been in dire need of a place to relax.
Sometimes, after he gets that dream again (Harry- in the forest, covered in unicorn blood and surrounded in blinding white flames), Neville will sleep the rest of the night away in his greenhouse, and won't have a single dream.
Neville looks over to the furthest corner of the greenhouse, the one where a beat-up cabinet lies. There, deep inside of it and wrapped in layers of old cloaks and sheets, is a jar with softly glowing moss. A part of Neville thinks that maybe its presence is what gives the space such an atmosphere of peace. It makes him sad to think about that unicorn, but Neville likes to think that it's living on through the comfort it provides to Neville.
Maybe instead of Trevor, Neville will bring the jar of unicorn-blood soaked moss with him to school instead. Jars are, on the whole, much less likely to run off.
Blaise
Blaise gives Daphne a wide smile as he gestures her into his room with a wide sweep of his hands.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Blaise says.
"I've been here before, Blaise," Daphne responds.
Blaise ignores her, instead closing the door behind Daphne.
"Please, join me on the balcony," Blaise says, walking over to the double doors leading out onto the expansive balcony overlooking the sea. He holds the door open for Daphne, who raises an eyebrow at him.
The servants had set up a table full of refreshments. Blaise smoothly pulls out a chair for his friend, who takes her seat after a moment.
"Playing the perfect host as always, I see," Daphne says, reaching for a finger sandwich.
"You know my mother would have my head if I was a- I can't even say it," Blaise says, taking his own seat.
"A poor host," Daphne supplies.
Blaise shudders, which finally gets Daphne to crack a smile. Success.
"So," Blaise says, settling back and crossing his legs. "How has your summer been?"
"Just grand," Daphne says. "My lessons are really picking up. At this rate, I'll be the perfect wife in no time."
Blaise rolls his eyes. "Your parents need to get over themselves," he says. As if Daphne would ever settle for the position of 'housewife'.
"Yes," Daphne agrees, staring out into the distance. Then she blinks and shakes her head. "How about you?"
"Oh, the usual- days spent on the beach, evenings spent being taught how to most efficiently run the various political positions I will no doubt be inheriting from my mother."
"Most of which are supposed to be elected," Daphne points out with a wry smile on her face.
"Most of which are supposed to be elected," Blaise agrees, matching her smile with one of his own. He feels his smile slip as Daphne lets out a sigh and turns to face him.
"Oh, we've arrived at the elephant in the room?" Blaise asks, stomach flipping despite himself.
"We need to talk about Harry," Daphne says, nodding.
Daphne
Daphne watches as Blaise lets out a world-weary sigh.
"Yes. We do," he finally agrees. "The chances of last year being a fluke?"
"Lets see," Daphne says flatly. "Harry Potter, in the course of one year, managed to almost die seven times-"
"Seven?" Blaise asks incredulously.
"I'm counting each of the Cerberus's heads as one," Daphne says.
Blaise sits back, nodding.
"As I was saying," Daphne continues, "seven times- and we managed to sit out every one."
It's only because she's known Blaise for as long as she has that Daphne catches the flicker of guilt that crosses Blaise's face. It's just as quickly replaced with one of disinterest.
"And so what? I quite enjoy not dying at twelve years old," Blaise says.
"As do I," Daphne agrees, then hesitates. "I suppose the question is- should we continue as we have? Should we try to be more involved? Or should we step back and drop Harry completely?"
Daphne honestly doesn't know, and by the look of it, neither does Blaise. Every ounce of Slytherin self-preservation inside of her is telling her to drop Harry, but her Slytherin loyalty disagrees entirely.
The image of Harry laying there knocked out in that hospital bed, pale-faced and looking far too small isn't one that's going to leave Daphne alone anytime soon.
"We'd lose Theo," Blaise finally says. "And we- we can't lose Theo. He's extremely useful to us."
"And our friend, you arse," Daphne says, kicking Blaise under the table.
"That too," Blaise agrees easily. "Not to mention- Harry is powerful. We could use him too. That fire he was telling us about…"
Daphne hates how conflicted she is about the feeling of relief that is flooding through her. "Well, that's that then- we stick with Harry. Should we try and be more… involved in his antics?"
"Let's play it by ear," Blaise suggests. "We don't need to make any decisions right now."
"Alright," Daphne agrees.
Hopefully, first year really was just a fluke.