Disclaimer: Everythings belongs to J.K.R.
AN: A big THANK YOU to Federer Rex for editing this story with the speed of light.
This story was inspired by a prompt from Fuzzpot. Thank you for that, Fuzzy!
More author's notes at the end of the chapter
Harry stayed outside for the remainder of the morning, he relived the moment Daphne kissed him over and again. Each time came with a flutter of his heart. What did that kiss mean? Did she like him in the same way he liked her, or was it a mere sign of her thankfulness that he'd intervened on her behalf so that she could go home?
His stomach lurched at the latter thought, and he groaned. Anything but that!
The heat in his face flared up again. He didn't dare return to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione would be there, and she had an uncanny sixth sense and always knew when something was going on with him. He could do without her inquisition, at least until he had figured out for himself what all this meant.
Harry stomped through the snow, his head bent down in deep thought. Well, there was only one way to find out. He had to talk to Daphne.
That had his stomach lurch again.
He squared his shoulders as he walked towards the castle in a determined stride. He was a Gryffindor, he could do that—even if it would kill him.
Lunch had already started when he entered the Great Hall. He looked at the Slytherin table, however, there was no sign of Daphne. Had she already left, without telling him goodbye?
His heart sank.
Hermione waved at him from the Gryffindor table. There was no sign of Ron, either. This had to be the first time since they knew each other that his gluttonous friend missed a meal.
He walked towards the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Hermione.
"Where have you been all morning long? You look flushed, are you coming down with something?" She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.
"I'm fine." He deflected her questions with his practice response, although he didn't dare look at her and avoided her gaze by ladling some soup in the bowl in front of him. Count on Hermione to put him through the mill as soon as she saw him.
She harrumphed at that, but thankfully didn't ask more questions. For some time, they ate in silence.
"Where's Ron?" he asked at last. "Did he have to see Madam Pomfrey?" A visit to the infirmary was the only reason he could think of that had his pig-headed best mate miss a meal.
Hermione put her spoon down and bit her lower lip before she turned to look at him.
This was always a sign of her distress. His stomach gave another flutter, this time not even close to being as exciting as the flutters any thought of Daphne caused. What happened?
"Ron left while you were outside," she said in a strained voice, wringing her hands. "He came down into the common room, his trunk in tow, and didn't as much as glance at me as he walked out."
Harry's head jerked around and he gaped at Hermione. Ron had left them, just so, without saying goodbye. His jaw clenched, and his neck became hot.
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry."
He snorted. It wasn't a happy sound. "You said that as if someone had died."
"Well, in a way, someone did," she said, and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I know what his friendship means to you."
Harry took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Obviously, he's not as good a friend as I thought he was if he left us like this over a childish spat he started."
Hermione pulled her hand away and looked at him with wide eyes. "You're angry, not sad."
"I think I have every right to be. Why should I be sad about Ron making an arse out of himself?"
"Language," she said, yet the small chuckle in her voice gave her away. "Although I'm glad you're taking his behaviour this calmly. I thought you'd be devastated and blame yourself."
Harry shook his head. "That might have been the case if this had happened only a few days ago. However, something you said this morning had me thinking."
Hermione's eyebrows went up at his admission. "And that was—?"
"You said I was always giving in to Ron, to a point where it goes against my best interests." He scratched the back of his neck with a fleeting side glance at her. It wasn't easy to admit to his weaknesses. "You were right, and I realised that Ron was holding me back, and that I can't afford that. There's so much I still have to learn about being a wizard. Ron doesn't get that."
"No, he doesn't." Hermione sighed. "He grew up in this world, takes everything for granted, and doesn't have the imagination, or maybe empathy, to realise that you and I come from a different background and struggle." She took a deep breath. "Still, I'm sorry, Harry. I know he was your first friend, mine, too, and Merlin knows we both don't have many or find it easy to reach out."
"Thank you Hermione." He put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. "You're a good friend." He let go and grinned at her. "Maybe it's time for a change, for both of us. I think we need to reach out to other people and make new friends."
A reluctant smile appeared on her lips. "You mean, like you and Greengrass?"
Harry's cheeks grew warm. "Well, yes." He looked anywhere but at Hermione.
She chuckled. "Do you really think I didn't know you have a crush on her, Harry?"
The warmth in his cheeks intensified. "Uhm—who told you that?"
"You, or rather your behaviour at Christmas dinner." Hermione laughed. "I've never seen you look at a girl like that, Harry."
He groaned and covered his face with his hand. He was doomed. If Hermione saw through him that easily, Daphne would have sensed his crush, too, smart as she was. She must think him a daft prat that he had not yet acted on it.
"There's no need to groan, Harry, it's mutual, if I'm not mistaken. What are you going to do about that?"
"Talk to her, I suppose." He exhaled and lowered his hand. "Although that will have to wait, she and her sister went back home."
"Oh, why's that?" Hermione looked at him with raised eyebrows.
Professor McGonagall distracted Harry as he formulated an answer. Long strides carried her along the Gryffindor table. "Mr Potter, the headmaster wants to see you."
Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. What happened? Had Sirius Black turned up in the castle once again? Or was there more behind Ron suddenly leaving the castle than they had thought? Harry's stomach lurched as he thought about the possible reasons behind the headmaster's summons. He pushed his chair back and got up.
"The headmaster thinks you might find Mars bars most enjoyable, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said.
Harry nodded in understanding and walked towards the doors. As on most previous occasions when he had been called to the headmaster, Professor McGonagall didn't accompany him but stayed behind to talk to Hermione.
The walk up to the headmaster's office didn't take long. The gargoyle sprang aside as soon as he said "Mars bars", and he rode the spiralling staircase up. He raised his hand to knock on the door.
"Come in, Harry," Professor Dumbledore's voice said before his knuckles connected with the wood.
How did the headmaster do that? Harry grumbled to himself as he pushed the door open and entered the headmaster's office.
Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, but he was not alone. A man with brunette hair and a girl sat in front of him. A familiar looking blonde braid hung down the girl's back.
Fawkes, the Phoenix, perched on the backrest of Professor Dumbledore's chair and let out a small thrill at Harry's entrance.
Harry's heart made a happy skip. So, Daphne didn't leave without telling him goodbye, after all.
"Ah, Harry, thank you for your promptness," Professor Dumbledore said.
The man and the girl turned around to face Harry. Both smiled at him, but Harry only had eyes for Daphne.
"Matthew, let me introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, this is Matthew Greengrass, the father of your classmate Daphne Greengrass. You know each other, I believe."
Mr Greengrass stood up and held a hand out to Harry. "Mr Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you. Daphne tells me that I have to thank you that my girls are going to spend at least a part of their holidays with my wife and I."
Aunt Petunia had drilled enough manners into Harry that he managed to turn his eyes away from Daphne and focus on her father. While Mr Greengrass' hair was darker, his eyes were the same colour and shape as his daughter's. Harry's cheeks turned warm at the praise, but he took the offered hand and shook it.
"Likewise, sir. Call me Harry, please." He let go of Mr Greengrass' hand with a short side glance at Daphne. Was this reply correct or had he made a fool out of himself?
Daphne beamed at him, and he heaved an imperceptible breath and turned to her father again. "Daphne is exaggerating. I just wrote a letter."
"Not many young lads your age would have done that." Mr Greengrass gave Harry a hearty slap on the shoulder.
"I have observed that Harry has a compassionate heart and is quick to help, if it is in his power," Professor Dumbledore said in a serene voice.
"That's something we all should strive to have, alas, only few of us do," Mr Greengrass said. "I include myself in the ignorant majority."
"So do I, Matthew," Professor Dumbledore said with a chuckle.
Daphne tugged at the sleeve of her father's robe. He looked down at her with a smile. "I did not forget why we are here, ducky."
"Dad!" Daphne squealed, glancing sideways at Harry with wide eyes, and turned scarlett.
Harry masked his snort with a cough, but couldn't control his quivering lips. Despite her mortification, the cute name suited her.
Mr Greengrass turned to Harry. "My daughter told me that you have been a great support when she didn't dare go home because of the lasting effects of the prank played on her." He shot a withering side glance at Professor Dumbledore. "She also told me that you've become friends. It's a tradition of our family to welcome the New Year with our friends and family, and my family and I would be delighted if you would stay with us and celebrate the New Year at our home."
Harry's heartbeat sped up, and his lips curved into a wide smile. "I'd love to," he blurted out. The next moment, however, he sobered. What was about the Dursleys? His aunt and uncle were his guardians, he'd have to have their permission to leave school.
He glanced at the headmaster. "Is it alright if I leave the castle, sir? Wouldn't I have to get my aunt and uncle's permission first?" Fat chance he'd get that, not if they thought he was going to have a fun time.
"I wouldn't have called you into my office for Matthew to deliver his invitation to you if I saw any problems with your guardians, my dear boy," Professor Dumbledore said. "Don't worry about that, I'll explain to them."
A weight rolled off Harry's shoulders at these words.
Daphne beamed and clapped her hands. "Brilliant! Hurry and get your trunk from your dorm, Harry. Headmaster Dumbledore said we could use his Floo."
Harry turned to do just that, when another thought struck him like a bucket of ice water poured over him.
What about Hermione? She had opted to stay with him so he wouldn't be alone for Christmas, instead of going back home. Ron had already deserted them, and she'd be all alone if he went with the Greengrasses.
He stopped in his tracks, his shoulders slumping. "I can't," he said in a small voice.
Daphne's face fell, and Professor Dumbledore and Mr Greengrass both looked puzzled.
"Please, tell us what brought on this change of mind, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said into the sudden uncomfortable silence.
He explained his reasoning.
"Indeed, a compassionate heart," Mr Greengrass said when he finished. He smiled at Harry. "I'm sure we'll find a solution, right, Albus?"
"Without any doubt Miss Granger's parents will be as happy to have her home for the rest of the holidays as you are happy to have your daughters, Matthew." Professor Dumbledore picked up a quill and scribbled something on a sheet of parchment and folded it. "Take this to Minerva, Fawkes, my friend." He turned in his seat and held out the folded parchment to his familiar.
The majestic bird took the parchment and disappeared in a flame.
"Wow," Daphne breathed, her eyes still lingering on the spot where Fawkes had disappeared. The next moment, she flung her hand before her mouth and turned beet red.
"Yes, Miss Greengrass, a Phoenix flaming away is quite a sight to behold. I confess that it still amazes me each time, even after all those years since Fawkes decided to stay with me," Professor Dumbledore said. "Professor McGonagall will talk to Miss Granger and arrange her return home as we speak, so there is only one more thing to take care of—Dobby!"
With a loud crack, the former Malfoy house elf appeared next to Harry. Dobby seemed well-fed and clean, his big green eyes sparkling with energy.
Harry blinked and gasped, the small creature had changed so much he hardly recognised him, and he wore the strangest assortment of clothes Harry had ever seen.
To somewhat plain black and white chequered trousers he wore a colourful Hawaiian shirt. The look was completed by a bowler hat over a baseball cap and mismatching socks on Dobby's otherwise bare feet. One sock showed fluttering Golden Snitches, the other one witches and wizards who chased each other on broomsticks.
"Professor Dumbledore called Dobby, what can Dobby be doing for Professor Dumbledore?" the elf said.
"Please, fetch Harry's things from his dorm, pack his trunk, and arrange with the Greengrass house elf-—"
"Misty," Mr Greengrass supplied.
"Please, arrange with Misty that Harry's trunk be brought to the Greengrasses," Professor Dumbledore finished the sentence.
Dobby nodded so hard and fast that Harry was afraid his head would fall off. "Dobby will do. Dobby loves to serve the great Harry Potter sir!" With another loud crack, he was gone.
Daphne giggled, and Mr Greengrass stifled a laugh. "Now, that is some elf." He frowned. "He looks somewhat familiar, and I think I've heard that name before." His face lit up in sudden memory. "Dobby! That's the name of the poor thing that has to polish Lucius Malfoy's shoes whenever he visits his Abraxans and always gets a kick in the ribs for its efforts." The frown returned. "But that can't be. This was a free elf, Malfoy would never give up on a slave."
Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Not unless he is persuaded to do so."
Mr Greengrass grinned. "You were always a sly one, Albus, your Hogwarts house notwithstanding."
"Thank you, Matthew," Professor Dumbledore said and bowed in his seat. "However, it was not me who freed poor Dobby from his misery. That honour belongs to Harry."
"Is that so?" Mr Greengrass' eyebrows went up, and he looked at Harry with new interest.
Harry's cheeks grew warm. "I might have tricked Mr Malfoy into giving clothes to Dobby."
Mr Greengrass burst out laughing. "Did you? I wish I could have seen that. It's hard to pull one over on Lucius Malfoy." He got up from his chair and gave Harry a clap on the shoulder. "Seems that Albus is not the only sly Gryffindor. You'll have to tell me tonight at dinner how you did that, Harry. Now, however, it's time we get going." He turned to Professor Dumbledore. "May we use your Floo, Albus?"
Professor Dumbledore also got to his feet. "Be my guest, Matthew."
The two men shook hands in goodbye across the desk.
The headmaster smiled at Harry and Daphne. "I hope to see both of you healthy and well rested at the welcoming feast at the beginning of the new trimester."
Harry and Daphne thanked him and bid their goodbyes as well.
"The Floo address is Greengrass Racing," Mr Greengrass said, tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, and disappeared in a green whirl.
Daphne followed him, then it was Harry's turn. Mindful of his first experience with Floo travel that had him ending up in the seedy shop of Borgin and Burkes, Harry tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and made sure to pronounce his destination carefully.
"Greengrass Racing!"
Green flames flared up and spun him away in a dizzying ride through chimneys and fireplaces. He groaned, getting out of here in a dignified manner would be a nightmare of its own if he didn't want to make a fool out of himself in front of Daphne and her family.
He readied himself for the spinning to stop.
At last, it did. As Harry had planned, he stepped out with his right foot first in a small side step to counteract the spinning, and managed to stay on his feet with only minimal wobbling. A small smile of triumph on his face, he straightened and looked around.
He stood in what seemed to be a lounge, with overstuffed, comfortable looking chairs and sofas grouped around the fireplace, a low coffee table between them. The furniture bore traces of use, although it was not as shabby as the furniture of The Burrow, yet the room had the same homey feel. Floor deep windows opened into a conservatory, and pictures of family members, horses, and Abraxans adorned the mantlepiece, the walls, and the surfaces of several side tables.
A big photograph of the finish of a Muggle horse race hung on one wall, and a magical oil painting of what seemed to be an Abraxan race hung at the opposite wall. The jockeys, encouraging their steeds, swore and jostled each other with their elbows.
Harry's eyes lingered on the oil painting. Hopefully, he'd be allowed to study that painting in detail, it looked interesting.
Daphne and her father waited for him close to an archway that led into an adjoining room. A big table with chairs around it marked that room as the dining room. Opposite of the archway, next to where Harry stood, was another door that presumably led deeper into the house.
When Harry turned to join his hosts, the door behind him burst open with a loud bang. His hand shot to his wand, and he whirled around.
A human-sized cannon ball shot straight into him, bowling him over. The back of his head hit the floor with a painful thud. He groaned while he wrestled with the creature that had latched on him and seemed to be intent to strangle him.
t.b.c.
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