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 lay flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The weight of the missile that had caused his downfall pressed him down. Two slender arms wrapped around his neck with amazing strength, and a girl's voice shouted "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" right into his ear.
"Astoria Morgaine Greengrass! Is this a way to treat our guest?" Mr Greengrass raised his voice to be heard over the excited screams.
The head of his assailant whipped around. Harry got a mouthful of hair, but—thank Merlin!—the pressure around his neck eased.
"Sorry, dad," Tori said and scrambled to her feet.
"It's not me you have to apologise to," Mr Greengrass said with an emphatic nod towards Harry.
Tori blushed and held a hand out to him to help him up. "I'm sorry for jumping at you, Harry. It's only—I'm so happy to be home, and Daph said it wouldn't have happened hadn't you talked sense into the Weasley twins—"
"Don't worry." Harry laughed as he stood. "Jumping on me to convey thanks must be a Greengrass family thing." He winked at Daphne, who blushed.
Tori looked from him to her sister, and a predatory gleam appeared in her eyes.
"Ducky, I think it's time you show Harry where he will stay, and maybe give him a tour of the house and the stables, if he likes," Mr Greengrass said, humour evident in his voice.
"That's a good idea, dad." Daphne, still rather red in the face, took Harry's hand and pulled him with her past Astoria and out of the room. "Come on, I'll show you your room first," she said without looking at him, and reached with her free hand to close the door behind them.
Tori's giggles wafted behind them.
"That little shit," Daphne said between gritted teeth, and pulled the door shut with slightly more force than necessary.
Harry bit on his lips to suppress his laughter. He didn't know much about girls, but silence seemed to be the better part of valour here. He looked around to get his bearings.
They stood in a flagstone hallway. To the left was a dark oak door, framed by narrow windows that looked out into a wide front yard with a tree-lined street beyond. To the right, a broad staircase led to the upper floor. They climbed upstairs to another hallway that stretched over the length of the house.
"There are three bedrooms on this floor," Daphne said. She tugged Harry forward and opened a door to a spacious and bright bedroom. "This is your room, the bathroom is over there," —she motioned to the door at the right—"and if you need something, please call for Misty."
On cue, a house elf materialised with a faint pop. Braids wound around her head and a tablecloth in a pattern of pink roses tied around the neck and behind the back in the style of an old-fashioned apron marked the small creature as female.
"Miss Ducky called Misty," she said, her bulbous tennis ball- sized blue eyes lingering on Harry with open curiosity.
"I did not, as you well know," Daphne said, rolling her eyes, yet she smiled at the elf. "But since you are here, Misty, I might as well satisfy your curiosity." She put her free hand on Misty's back and propelled her towards Harry. "Harry, this is Misty, our house elf, who takes care of us and loves to spoil us rotten. Misty, this is Harry Potter. Harry will stay with us until the new year."
Misty looked from Daphne to Harry, and her gaze fell on their still entwined hands. She lunged forward. "Misty bes honoured to meet Miss Ducky's Harry Potter." The elf threw her thin arms around Harry's midsection, and hugged him hard.
"Misty!" Daphne cried, blushing fiercely.
Harry stiffened at the unexpected contact. This one seemed to be as excitable as Dobby. "Th-thank you, Misty" He wheezed, the small creature was stronger than she looked and squeezed the air out of him. "I'm also happy to meet you."
The house elf retreated, bowed her head as if chastised, and gave Daphne a look that reminded Harry of the twins being called out after a successful prank. He snorted, yet the hug Misty gave him ignited a warmth in him he'd never felt before.
"You can go, Misty," Daphne said with a chuckle and an indulgent shake of her head.
The house elf popped away and left the two teenagers standing in the middle of the Greengrass guest room. Once again, Daphne looked anywhere but at him.
What had thrown her out of her loop? There was nothing in the short encounter with Misty that could have embarrassed her, at least not from his point of view. But what did he know about the relation between house elves and their family?
An awkward silence descended between the teens.
At least Daphne still held his hand, which was nice. That had to count for something, hadn't it? If only he could think of something to say to break the awkwardness—
"You wanted to show me around?"
Harry blurted out the first thing that came to his mind—and kicked himself mentally. Why couldn't he come up with something original?
Daphne, however, breathed out and gave him a genuine smile.
"Yes, come on."
She tugged at his hand again and led him out of the guestroom. On their way back down she pointed out the door to her grandparent's part of the house, and Tori's and her bedrooms in the wing on the other side of the stairway. Back down the staircase, she didn't turn to the front door, but walked through a door on the right.
It was an office, with a desk with a telephone and a computer, and dozens of pictures of horses and races on the walls. The centrepiece of the room was a glass cabinet with gleaming trophies.
Mr Greengrass sat behind the desk. One hand held the handset against his ear, while the other hovered over the computer keyboard, as he hummed to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Harry's eyes went wide at the sight of the phone and the computer. While Daphne had mentioned that the horse racing business was a Muggle operation, he hadn't thought that Mr Greengrass would use Muggle technology. That was not what he'd expected of a Pureblood, going from what he'd seen of the Malfoys.
Mr Greengrass waved at them as they passed by on their way to the door that led outside, the next moment his attention back on his call.
"Yes, Robert, Skyhigh will be ready for the New Year meeting, she was jumping out of her skin at today's gallop—"
Daphne tilted her head towards the door behind them. "That's dad's office, it's the only room in the house that's void of any magical item because of the Muggle horse owners. There are Notice-Me-Not-Charms and Muggle Repelling Charms on the door that leads deeper into the house. Dad rents rooms at a hotel if he has to entertain the Muggle horse owners."
Harry nodded distractedly as he glanced around, wide-eyed. That shed some light on Mr Greengrass and how he operated his business, but Harry still had a lot of questions. This was a whole new and fascinating world. He glanced over his shoulder back through the doorway behind them.
Mr Greengrass was visible through the glass panel of the door, and he still talked on the phone. It sounded fascinating, and Harry couldn't wait to learn more, especially about the Abraxans.
Daphne had led him out into a cobblestoned archway between the two wings of the Greengrass manor. A tall wooden double-winged door closed off the archway towards the front yard. Grey winter light illuminated the cobbles from the archway onthe right, a slight breeze carried the strong smell of large animals and manure, and Harry sneezed.
Daphne motioned to the windowless wall in front of them. "Behind there is the part of the house where my grandparents live. We call it the Dowager Wing. It's like their own house, but usually they have their meals with us if they are not having friends over. You'll meet them at dinner."
They walked into the stable courtyard. From some of the open half-doors soft neighing and a hoof stamp echoed from the stone walls. A few seconds of clip clopping, and a horse's head appeared, tossed its head and considered then with one eye A dozen other stable doors stood open and were empty.
"We have horses at half a dozen races today, old Mable pulled a muscle a week ago and is on bedrest," Daphne explained as she stroked the side of the big grey head.
The first courtyard opened into another stable courtyard. Everything was impeccably clean. Pots decorated with evergreens, red bows, and Christmas lights in the corners of both courtyards gave everything a festive feel.
"That looks nice," Harry said.
"It does." Daphne nodded. "You should see the courtyards in spring and summer. Dad has the pots planted with colourful flowers." The pride of her family's little kingdom was obvious in her voice, yet she scrunched up her nose. "The owners love the decorated courtyards, they think them picturesque, but dad says they are a lot of additional work for the stablehands. He'd rather have modern stables, with the stalls in a row, and water troughs everywhere."
Harry glanced around the courtyard that was void of any human soul besides them. "How big is your dad's staff? I can imagine you'd need quite a number of people to care for that many horses." He made a wide gesture with his hand. "How many horses are there?"
"About fifty, give or take three or four," Daphne said. "And yes, it's a lot of work." She closed the distance between them and brought her mouth close to his ear. "Especially if you can't use magic, the horse stable is a Muggle business. In about an hour is feeding time, then the courtyards will be busy. Not long after that, the horses that are racing will return and it will be chaotic."
"You don't keep the Abraxans here?" Harry lowered his voice to match hers.
"Merlin, no, not with all the Muggles around. They have their own stables, far away from the village, at an abandoned farm. I'll ask mum or dad if they can Apparate us there one day."
They left the stable courtyard, and Daphne showed him the big barn with a tack room, the walker, the lunge pad, and the amazing facilities her grandfather and then her father had implemented to make sure the animals had the best care possible. They even had a swimming pool for gentle exercise for horses that had sustained an injury.
Harry marvelled and absorbed all she told him like a sponge.
They returned to the house through the backdoor and into another living room, which was less formal than the one they had arrived in.
"This is the family room," Daphne said. "Here we sit together after dinner, although dad usually falls asleep in his chair." She chuckled and opened another door that led into a short hallway and ended at another door.
"Mum's and dad's room is to the left,"—she nodded at a door in passing—"and this is the kitchen." She opened the door ahead.
The kitchen was a bright room lined with honey-coloured wooden cabinets in a L-shape. Two windows looked out at the front yard and at the garden at the side of the house and let in a lot of natural light.
The heavenly smell of dinner being cooked wafted past Harry's nose. His stomach gave an appreciative rumble.
Daphne giggled.
Heat shot into his face as he followed her into the room.
"I didn't have much for lunch," he said in way of defense. Which wasn't a lie, his appetite had been hampered by his last encounter with Daphne, and Ron's decision to leave the castle.
Misty, stood at one of the counters and whipped something in a huge bowl, her floppy ears waggling at the effort. Next to her, on the stove, a huge pot bubbled happily. At the sound of their voices, she turned around. "Bes master Harry Potter be wanting some biscuits?"
Another heatwave flushed into Harry's face. "No, that's not necessary—"
"We'd love some." Daphne interrupted him. She tugged at his hand and directed him to the big wooden table that stood in the middle of the room. Her face had become rather pink once again, although for the love of Merlin Harry couldn't figure out why.
Misty snapped her fingers, and two mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of biscuits appeared on the kitchen table.
"Thank you, Misty," Daphne said. She slid onto one of the chairs and motioned Harry to sit next to her. Soon, the two teens were happily munching and chatting, until noises from the stable courts made Harry turn his head.
Daphne looked at the clock that hung over the door. "It's feeding time. Want to watch?"
Harry nodded and rose so fast that he banged his knee on the table leg. "I'd love to, I've grown up in town, and the only horses I've seen are police. I don't think I've been that close to one." Aunt Petunia didn't count, no matter how much she resembled a horse.
"Then you're in for a treat." Daphne grabbed his hand again, and together they quickly left the kitchen.
The courtyard at feeding time was quite different to when they were there just an hour earlier. Harry counted at least half a dozen young men and women walking in and out of the stables, pushing wheel carts or carrying buckets. They all knew Daphne and shouted quick hello's to her while they went on with their work, and cast curious glances at Harry.
M
"Dad will make one last round after feeding time when all of the horses have returned," Daphne said. "He'll make sure that the horses ate well, check them for signs of distress, or injuries. He will have a last talk with the lead stablehand. After that, it's family dinner time."
"That sounds like a lot of work," Harry said.
"It is," Daphne nodded. "But it is also a lot of fun, and exciting."
"You want to do this one day?"
"If I'm good enough." She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I've got a lot to learn, I'm planning on becoming a stablehand after Hogwarts, then maybe be a jockey for a couple of years if I'm good enough, or just stay working with the horses, then eventually become a trainer like dad."
"You've got your future planned out." Harry had to smile. Her enthusiasm was endearing. "Are you going to ride and train Abraxans, too?"
Daphne shook her head. "No, they are too big and wild for me, I'm more of a horse girl."
Harry laughed and she joined in.
"Doesn't your dad train Abraxans, too?"
"He holds the licence for the stable, there is an old-fashioned law that says that Abraxans are too strong to be trained by women." She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "It's mum who loves the Abraxans and does all the work at their stable."
The activity on the court had slowed down during their talk. There was the sound of an opening door from the archway, and the next moment Mr Greengrass turned around the corner. At their sight, he smiled.
"I see Daphne is giving you a tour of the stables, Harry. How do you like it?"
"It's fascinating, sir. I've never been close to horses before. There are so many things about running a racing stable. How do you know if a horse is fit for to race?"
"Experience, Harry, lots of experience gained over long years of training horses." Mr Greengrass put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I was about your age when I discovered my love for horses. Spent my summers mucking out stables and learning how to ride, then took on as an apprentice after Hogwarts. Things developed from there." He clapped Harry's shoulder. "Do you want to learn how to ride while you are here?"
Harry's heartbeat sped up. "That'd be fantastic, sir! I'd love to!"
Mr Greengrass clapped his shoulder once again. "I'lll get my lead stablehand to give you your first riding lesson tomorrow morning, then."
They followed Mr Greengrass on his round through the stables. He knew each of the horses by their name, and they apparently knew him and trusted him, as their soft whines and the way they rubbed their heads against his shoulder showed.
If Daphne hadn't already told him that she loved horses and planned on becoming a trainer like her dad, Harry would have realised that during their walk through the stables at the latest. She seemed to be as knowledgeable as he was as she checked the horse's legs for any sign of injuries or swelling, assessed their general behaviour, and discussed her observations with her father.
"You can tell if they are happy," Mr Greengrass said to Harry while patting the neck of a brown mare that sported a blaze that looked like a flame. "This one obviously loved her dinner,"—he pointed at the empty crib—"her nostrils are soft and round, and her lower lip is hanging. Those are always signs that a horse is relaxed, and a relaxed horse is a happy horse." He patted the mare one more time. "Good night, my beautiful, rest well, tomorrow's your big day."
The mare had been the last horse in the back stableyard. When they left, there was a rumble from the front stableyard, and the clacking of hooves on cobblestone.
"Go ahead," Mr Greengrass said to Harry and Daphne. "I'll have a quick word with Mike about how it went today."
Daphne took Harry's hand again as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Come on, I'll show you where you can wash your hands."
Harry looked down at their entwined hands. They'd been holding hands almost throughout the whole time since he arrived at the Greengrasses. It was nice, holding her soft hand in his made him warm and fuzzy, yet confused at the same time. Did this mean she saw him as more than a friend? Or was this just a sign of Daphne's inherent friendliness and the care she'd give any living creature?
He'd witnessed first hand today how well she treated the house elf, and how tender she was with the horses. What if she saw him like the elf and the horses? A living being she cared about and that had a place in her heart, yet not the prominent spot he longed for?
Gods, he'd be devastated.
Daphne bumped his shoulder with hers. "What's up, Harry? Kneezle got your tongue?"
He turned his head to look into her pretty blue eyes and forced himself to smile. "Still trying to process everything I learned, I guess. It's a whole new world to me."
"I imagine." She returned his smile and pushed open the door to a small guest bathroom. They washed their hands and then walked to the kitchen.
Compared to the afternoon, the room was now crowded.
Next to Misty at the stove stood an elderly woman, her back to the door, who was adding the last touches to the stew Misty had prepared. Engrossed in her discussion with Misty, she hadn't noticed their entrance.
Tori gave them a wave from the cupboard as she took silverware out of a drawer.
A younger woman sat at the already partly set kitchen table, writing in a notebook. Her hair had the same shade as Daphne's. This had to be Mrs Greengrass.
At their entrance, Mrs Greengrass looked up with a small frown that instantly gave way to a warm smile. "Sugarplum!" She got up, crossed the distance towards them in two long strides, and pulled Daphne into a fierce hug.
Daphne emerged from the hug rather red in the face. "Mum!" She cast a quick side glance at Harry.
"Sorry, Sugarplum, I missed you so much." Mrs Greengrass pulled her daughter into another hug, dropped a kiss in her hair, and let go to turn towards Harry. "So, this is the young man we have to thank for our daughters coming home?"
"Yes, mum, this is Harry Potter." Daphne hurried to make the introduction. "Harry, meet my mum, Venetia Greengrass."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs Greengrass." Harry gave a small bow.
Mrs Greengrass also pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for bringing my girls home, Harry."
The hug was firm, yet soft, and not as suffocating as Hermione's hugs. Was this what a mother's hug was like? Harry couldn't tell. His own mum probably had hugged him when he was small, but he couldn't remember, and Aunt Petunia wouldn't dream of hugging him.
When Mrs Greengrass let go of him, the elderly woman turned up behind her back. She looked like an older version of Mrs Greengrass—and Daphne, come to think of it, except for the eyes.
"Now, won't you introduce your young man, Tinkerbell?" she said to Daphne with a smirk.
Daphne, who was still recovering from her mother's greeting, turned scarlet again.
Just then, the door opposite of them opened. A man with a shock of white hair walked into the room. At the sight of Daphne, he stopped in his tracks, and a broad smile appeared on his ruddy face that told of a life spent outside. He opened his arms wide. "Well, isn't that my little Squeaks! Come and give your Gramps a proper hug!"
Daphne groaned. "Kill me now, please!" The colour of her face deepened even more, but she obediently walked over to her grandfather and gave him a hug.
Astoria giggled, and Harry fought the grin that threatened to appear on his face. Of all the embarrassing pet names grandparents came up with, Squeaks had to be among the worst. Yet it was cute, and endearing, and what tied a family together. His heart became heavy. How he wished he had grandparents who'd call him embarrassing names.
Daphne's grandfather released her, still keeping one arm around her shoulder, and propelled her back to where Harry stood with Mrs Greengrass and her mother. He stopped in front of Harry and held out his hand. "Good evening, I'm Charles Osborne. You've already met my wife, Philomena? And you must be the young man who's courting my granddaughter."
There was another audible groan from Daphne.
Harry's eyes widened, and he stared at Mr Osborne like a bunny at an Ashwinder. How was he supposed to reply to that? Gods, this was so embarrassing. His cheeks grew hot.
Mr Osborne let go of Daphne, stepped closer to Harry, and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Listen, son, if you continue courting my little Squeaks, we must lay down some ground rules."
Daphne's face matched an overly ripe tomato.
Harry cast her a look he hoped that conveyed his sympathy. He wouldn't mind vanishing into the ground right now, either, or disappearing into the next mouse hole, whatever was easier.
"Firstly—" Mr Osborn said to the sound of the opening door. He interrupted himself and looked around.
Mr Greengrass closed the door behind himself, an amused smile on his face. "Are you giving poor Harry the shovel talk, Charlie? Here I thought that was my job."
Mr Osborn withdrew his hand from Harry's shoulder. His expression resembled that of a little boy who has been caught with a hand in the cookie jaw.
"Eh—" he said to the chuckles of his wife and his daughter.
Astoria giggled, too. Daphne withstood the hilarity with a stoney expression on her reddened face and glared daggers at her grandfather.
"Don't," Mr Greengrass said. "Ducky will never forgive you if you scare away her first suitor."
"Dear Merlin, Apparate me away, please," Daphne whispered.
Harry couldn't agree more. He nodded, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.
"I think we have teased poor Daphne and Harry enough for tonight." Mrs Greengrass decided to have mercy on them. "Misty, we're ready to have dinner. Sugarplum, I'm sure you want to sit with Harry." She walked to one end of the table and sat down.
Mr Greengrass sat down at the other end, and Daphne pulled Harry to a seat between herself and Astoria, and opposite of her grandparents.
Misty Levitated a huge Cauldron with deliciously smelling stew onto the table and sat down next to Daphne's grandmother. Over the next couple of minutes, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of a big family tackling their dinner.
"Tinkerbell, please pass me the bread basket," Mrs Osborne said. Daphne sighed, picked up the basket and held it out to her grandmother.
Mrs Greengrass handed a bowl filled with lamb stew to Daphne and motioned her to pass it to Harry, and received Daphne's bowl in return. She ladled some stew into the bowl, then her hand hesitated over the steaming bowl of potatoes.
"Do you want potatoes with your stew, Sugarplum?"
A small growl escaped Daphne's throat. "Yes, please," she said to her mum through gritted teeth.
Harry couldn't help himself, he chuckled.
Daphne turned her head and glared at him, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink once again.
"Sorry," he said, still chuckling, "your family is funny."
Daphne bent her head towards him. "They are embarrassing," she said under the cover of the lively conversation around the table. "All those silly nicknames!"
"I think your family is brilliant."
Her face softened somewhat at that, so he found the courage to add, "The names suit you, they are cute." Ducky, Tinkerbell, Sugarplum, and even Squeaks surely beat being called 'boy' all the time—or freak.
That got him a bright smile. She put down her spoon and put her hand on his with a small squeeze. "Thank you, Harry, you're sweet."
Heat shot into his face, a kaleidoscope of butterflies danced in his stomach, but at the same time a pleasant warmth enveloped him as he turned his hand under hers and linked his fingers with hers.
t.b.c.
Dev Saggitarius Black gifted me with my own Discord server. If you want to talk about one of my stories, ask questions, have a look at my progress, or get sneak previews into what I'm writing, join
Dorothea's Drama House
discord . gg / U5bX3SbXDT