A/N:
Another Harry/Astoria fic. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got a little out of control so it'll be a three or four-shot instead. I'll post weekly until it's done.
Hope you like it!
Harry Potter tried to keep a straight face as he brought the latest issue of Witch Weekly to the book store's checkout. He'd tactically sandwiched it in between an advanced charms tome and a quidditch magazine, and was hoping the clerk wouldn't ask too many questions. There was no law against a man buying a copy of Witch Weekly, but Harry still felt a little awkward about it.
"Good afternoon," the clerk said pleasantly as Harry set his book sandwich down on the counter. "Will that be all today?"
Harry nodded, affecting a nonchalant smile. "Yep!"
The clerk returned the smile and pulled her wand out to scan the books. She hesitated for only a moment when she lifted the charms tome to discover the girls' tabloid that lay beneath it, but it was enough for Harry to notice.
"Oh, that?" he said, gesturing to the item he was slightly ashamed to be buying. "That's for my daughter."
The woman furrowed her brow as she continued to scan the books, and Harry realized his mistake. He was a well-known celebrity in the wizarding world – having saved it just a few years earlier – and his private life was public business. If he really had a daughter, everyone would have known.
"Well, it's not actually for my daughter," he continued, trying to play off his lie. "It's for my friend's daughter. But his daughter is basically like my daughter, so sometimes I just call her 'my daughter' for the sake of simplicity. But she's not my daughter. Really, I should just be calling her my niece. Or my friend's daughter, I guess, since that's what she is."
The clerk cleared her throat, having long since finished scanning Harry's items. She was conspicuously scooting his bag of books along the counter towards him, gesturing with her chin to the line of people waiting to make their purchases behind him.
Harry coughed awkwardly.
"Right," he said, picking up the bag and giving the clerk a final, albeit rather forced smile. "I'll be going now. Thanks."
Harry sighed as he shut the door to his apartment. At long last, he was safe from the prying eyes of the public, and could read Witch Weekly in peace.
Indeed, Harry hadn't bought the magazine for his fictional daughter, nor his fictional friend's fictional daughter. Neither fictional daughter existed; Harry had bought this issue of Witch Weekly entirely for himself. He didn't normally read the popular girls' magazine – hence why he didn't have a subscription and needed to purchase it at the store – but this week's publication contained an article that he just couldn't miss.
Flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for, Harry's eyes lit up with glee as a fully animated cover print of Astoria Greengrass opened up before him. He carefully cut the page out of the magazine and put it aside before turning his attention to the following write-up.
Interviewing The Pure-Hearted Rising Star of The Magical World: Astoria Greengrass Answers Witch Weekly's 27 Questions!
What makes you happy? Seeing the people around me smile!
What makes you sad? The knowledge that I can't protect everyone from sadness. Even if I try my best, there will still be those who I'm unable to reach…
Who would you consider to be your role model? My lovely mother, who I would be nowhere without. Love you, mom!
What is your biggest fear? I'm terrified of insects—Eek!
What talent would you like to have? The ability to lift anyone's spirit with a wave of my wand!
Do you have any heroes? Hmmm…maybe Harry Potter?
What is your greatest achievement? Every time I receive mail from a fan who says I've helped them in some way, I consider it my life's greatest accomplishment.
What do you dislike most about your appearance? Sometimes I wish I looked a little older. Just the other day, I was mistaken for a minor!
Harry let out a contented sigh as he finished reading the rest of the article. Apart from the surprise mention of his own name, it was exactly as he expected; Astoria Greengrass was, as always, human perfection.
He glanced at the animated pin-up of Astoria that he had taken out of the magazine and briefly debated putting it on his wall. She wore a modest white sundress, looking the perfect picture of innocence and feminine charm as she blushed demurely and blew a kiss at the camera.
Harry averted his gaze as the sight caused his heart to skip a beat, and he tucked the pin-up away. Had he still been a teenager, he likely would have affixed the poster to his wall without a second thought, but as a man who had recently reached his twenties he decided better of it. It would've taken some serious explaining if anyone ever entered his apartment and saw that on his wall.
Not that anyone had been entering Harry's apartment much lately. Ron and Hermione visited occasionally, and Luna appeared on his doorstep like a lost kitten asking for food and a place to sleep once every six months, but apart from that Harry lived his life largely by his lonesome. Which was probably why he'd developed a bit of a hyperfixation on Astoria Greengrass in the first place.
He'd first seen her by pure coincidence a couple of years ago, when her picture appeared in a Daily Prophet article about a newly founded children's charity. She'd been the poster girl for the initiative, and Harry only bothered looking into her because he was interested in sponsoring the charity himself. The more he learned about the girl though, the more he came to admire her.
Astoria Greengrass was the younger sister of Daphne Greengrass – one of Harry's old classmates from Hogwarts – though she had never attended the school herself as a terminal illness made her too sickly to keep up with schoolwork. Despite this, she never let her circumstances get the best of her, and she was rewarded for her efforts when groundbreaking magical research found a way to cure her curse around the same time Voldemort was defeated.
Deciding to use the life she was gifted to give back to the magical community, Astoria entered the limelight of a post-war Britain with the intention of inspiring hope and compassion in the magical world. First working with charities at the local level, Astoria's fame and reach rapidly grew as she began to make appearances in the entertainment industry, continuing to broadcast her message of peace and love to everyone who would listen.
It had turned out to be exactly what the war-ravaged magical community needed, and the British wizarding media latched on to her with fervent adoration. She had since skyrocketed into an international sensation, and in the past year extended her portfolio to include runway appearances at the wizarding world's biggest fashion shows, a critically acclaimed musical album, and even a starring role in a major American film project.
Astoria Greengrass was now the definitive idol of the entire magical world, and Harry had been following her since her very first appearance in the Daily Prophet. As a fan, it was one of his greatest sources of pride.
"That's right," he muttered to himself. "I am a fan. And there's no shame in that!"
Raising his wand, he carefully transferred the Astoria pin-up from his table to the wall of his bedroom.
The girl blew a kiss at him and he blushed.
Ding-Dong!
The doorbell rang, and Harry jumped a foot back from the poster like he'd just been caught doing something wrong. Recovering his wits and allowing his heart rate to settle, Harry dusted himself off and went to the front door.
"Hello?" he asked, opening it and seeing no one around.
"Down here, Harry," a little voice croaked from his feet.
Harry startled as he saw Luna Lovegood curled into a ball on the floor outside his apartment, looking rather worse for wear.
"Can I come in?" she asked, uncurling herself to look up at him.
"Er…yeah, of course. Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'll be fine. I just need a bath, some food, and a place to stay for the night."
"Sure thing…" Harry was still a bit concerned, but he'd found Luna in far stranger positions in the past. If anything, this was considered tame by her usual standards. "Do you need help getting in?"
She shook her head and started crawling into Harry's apartment like some sort of undead creature from a horror movie. He silently scanned her for injuries as she pulled herself along his floor, and was pleased to note that she seemed mostly unharmed this time. He'd had to reattach one of Luna's fingers once.
"I'll leave a change of clothes by the door for when you're done," he said as she finished her earthworm shuffle to his bathroom. "Just call if you need anything else."
She shot him a thumbs up, wiggled through the door, and then shut it behind her.
"Phew," Harry sighed. "Sometimes I worry about that girl…"
It was a much cleaner and healthier looking Luna Lovegood that emerged into his living room half an hour later. She wore the same pair of old clothes that he kept around specifically for these moments, and was towelling off her hair in the same whimsical way as always.
"Hi again," she said, finishing with the towel and throwing it carelessly back through the bathroom door. "And thanks again for letting me in."
"Don't mention it," Harry replied. "You know you're always welcome here."
"That's sweet. But I'll try not to impose. I treat your home as my last bastion; the final line of defense for me to fall back to when I'm almost certain to die otherwise."
Harry's right eye twitched.
"That's fine, but don't you think that kind of lifestyle is unsustainable?" he asked.
"Perhaps," Luna ceded. "But so long as I'm young, cute, and blessed with a friend named Harry Potter who's willing to help me out in a pinch, I should think I'll be alright."
Harry wasn't sure what being cute had to do with being a reckless magizoologist, but he let it slide. At the end of the day, he did trust Luna, and if she said she'd be alright he believed her.
Besides, fresh out of the shower and wearing his old clothes, he couldn't deny that Luna was pretty cute.
"I'll make dinner," he said eventually, shaking the stray and inappropriate thoughts from his mind. "Why don't you lie down somewhere and get some rest in the meantime?"
"That sounds lovely, Harry. Thanks. And remember, no-"
"No meat. Yeah, I got it."
She gave him a smile and headed towards the couch. A moment later she paused, evidently changed her mind, and walked into his bedroom instead. The door shut with a soft click, and Harry shrugged. He and Luna had been friends for a long time, so he wasn't particularly bothered.
He only realized he should have been bothered an hour later, when the smell of chickpea curry finally lured Luna out of his room again.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked amicably, setting plates out for the two of them.
"Not bad," she replied, taking a seat at his dinner table. "Though I'd have likely slept better if Astoria Greengrass wasn't blowing kisses at me the whole time."
Harry's hand slipped off the pot he was carrying, and he nearly dumped the entire curry on the floor in his panic.
He'd completely forgotten about the poster.
"That's, uh…it's for my daughter," he lied.
Luna raised an eyebrow at him. "Your daughter?"
"Well, no, technically not my daughter, it's for my friend's daughter, but his daughter is basically like my daughter…" Harry sighed. "Yeah, okay, I bought that earlier today."
Something about the impassive way Luna stared at him made Harry feel incredibly exposed, and he shuffled awkwardly under her gaze. A few moments later, she picked up a spoon and dug into the curry.
"I didn't know she was your type," she said between bites.
Harry floundered. "Well, no, she's not 'my type', per se, I just kind of like her story, and it's hard not to support her, you know?"
Luna shrugged, still focused on the food. "Dunno."
Eager to fill his mouth with something other than paltry excuses, Harry joined Luna at the table and began to eat. He wasn't ashamed to be a fan of Astoria Greengrass, but he supposed it was a rather uncomfortable thing to admit out loud. He honestly was more interested in Astoria's manner of being than her appearance, but he couldn't deny the luscious blonde hair and pretty face was a bonus.
"So how's the tutoring going?" Luna asked once they had both finished eating, changing the topic. "Have you been bitten yet?"
Harry shot her a questioning look. "Bitten?"
She nodded. "I hear kids bite."
"Well, I haven't been bitten yet," he replied, hoping it stayed that way. "But I've mostly been tutoring teenagers – students who need extra help to pass their OWLs or NEWTs, or want a head start on the next semester's material. And it's been pleasant, thanks for asking."
"That's good," Luna hummed. "I always thought you'd make an excellent teacher. You were a good one when you were fifteen, and I can only imagine you're even better now."
"I'd like to think so as well," Harry said. "But in a way, I'm kind of glad Hogwarts is making me complete a year of private tutoring before hiring me. It's still intimidating to have one student depend on me, let alone a roomful of them, and I'm welcoming the practice."
Luna raised her eyebrow again. "Really? You didn't seem very intimidated when you taught us in the D.A."
Harry shrugged. "It's easier to do something out of necessity than out of choice."
The girl at his dining room table thought about that for a moment.
"Fair enough," she said eventually.
The next morning when Harry woke up, Luna was gone. She left a note on his kitchen table, and he picked it up and read it while he poured his coffee.
Dear Harry,
Adventure calls at the most mysterious of times, and I'm afraid I must leave. Thank you once again for the roof, the meal, and most importantly, the company. I believe I'll be seeing you again before the year ends, so don't throw 'my' clothes out quite yet. Until next time.
Love,
Luna
P.S. I made you breakfast
Harry glanced over at his dining room table, and saw a bowl of Fruit Loops sitting there with the milk already poured in. The loops themselves had long since begun to disintegrate into the milk, which was in turn discoloured by the pastel cereal, and the whole mixture was an uncomfortable lukewarm temperature.
He stared into the bowl for one more second before taking out his wand and vanishing the whole thing into space. He appreciated the thought, he really did, but that was getting a big 'nope' from him.
He prepared himself a new breakfast in its place and took out his scheduler, checking to see where he'd be heading for that day's tutoring session. Hogwarts set him up with most of his students as a 'third-party educator' on the school's payroll, so he often didn't know who or what he was tutoring until he arrived. The benefit was that he didn't have to look for students himself, and he was more or less guaranteed a teaching position at the school by the end of the year.
And based on his experience as a student at Hogwarts, he was glad they were finally getting some standards when it came to hiring teachers.
Getting dressed and exiting his apartment, Harry apparated to the address written on his scheduler. The tutoring session had been made out for the morning, and unlike some of his others, was a home appointment instead of at Hogwarts. This meant he was likely either tutoring a student who attended an independent school, or a child whose parents preferred to take the 'home tutor' approach to education. Given the wealthy neighbourhood he found himself apparating into, he imagined it was the latter.
He double-checked the address one last time as he walked down the street, and stopped at the extravagant property which held its number. It had one of those gates with a buzzer on the outside, and he rang it once as he observed the house that lay past it.
The house – a manor, really – was old but in good shape, with neat rows of trim hedges around its exterior. It looked every bit the home of a proper pureblood family, and Harry shivered as memories of the Malfoy's old residence threatened to resurface at the thought. He hoped whatever awaited him inside this house was better than what awaited him in that one.
After a minute had gone by without anyone coming to acknowledge his existence, Harry rang the buzzer a second time. He checked his watch to make sure he wasn't early, and then rang it again.
"Hello?" he called, somewhat futilely.
To Harry's immense surprise, his greeting was returned a moment later, if not in the way he had been expecting.
"You a stalker or something?"
Harry turned his head in surprise at the voice behind him, almost startling in shock. He found a young girl there, no more than sixteen or seventeen, standing behind him with a cigarette between her fingers. She wore sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, and a baseball cap, and looked even more out of place in this neighborhood than he did.
"Er," Harry started tentatively. "No. I'm not a stalker. I'm a tutor, actually, and I'm waiting for my clients to answer their door."
He wondered if that wasn't more information than he ought to have given a sketchy looking stranger, but dismissed the thought as he realized he probably didn't have much to fear from a teenage girl, sketchy looking or not.
"You're my tutor?" she asked, a tone of derision clear in her voice. She looked Harry up and down as she took another drag on her cigarette. "Lame."
Harry wasn't sure what stunned him more: the idea that this girl lived in that house, or the way she was talking to him.
"Yes…I am. Your tutor, that is. Not 'lame'."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "No, you're definitely lame. You look like you should be performing magic at a muggle kid's birthday party, not teaching it to witches." She gave him another condescending look. "Where'd my mom even find you? the Diagon Alley discount bin of virgin wizards?"
Harry's jaw dropped for only a moment before he recovered his professionalism and smiled placidly at her.
"No, she found me through the Hogwarts tutor program," he said patiently. "I'm one of their third-party educators."
"Probably the only party you get invited to," she scoffed.
Harry blinked, licked his lips, and then took a deep breath. He decided to treat this girl as a test of his patience as an educator; he'd dealt with Voldemort, he could deal with a brat.
"Well, should we-"
"Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like an older, geekier version of Harry Potter?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, maybe that's the reason Hogwarts hired you. Like, 'this guy barely has more magic than a squib, but let's take him on so we can use him in our promotional shoots' or something."
Before Harry could verbalize a protest, or honestly even think of one, the girl walked right past him and slipped through a narrow gap in the gate.
"Oh, and I don't need a tutor by the way," she called over her shoulder. "Just pretend we did the session and go home – my mom will still pay you."
With that, she disappeared down the pathway to her house, leaving Harry with nothing but her parting words and her mixed scent of cigarettes and vanilla.
If Harry had learned one thing in his life, it was that giving up got you nowhere.
And if he had learned two things, it was that most of his problems could be solved with a house elf.
"Please accept Pinky's apologies on behalf of her mistress," the little elf said, bowing low to Harry as they walked through the manor. "The young mistress can be quite…abrasive at times, but she is trying her best, just like the rest of us."
"Don't worry, I understand," he smiled. "I've had students who were resistant to learning before, and I'm confident she'll come around once we get started."
In reality, Harry wasn't quite as confident as he was trying to sound. Most of his troublesome students were little kids, and most of those were quickly entranced by a few flashy spells and fun stories. He had a feeling wrangling this little princess wouldn't be so easy.
"Well, her room is just at the end of this hallway, sir," Pinky said, gesturing down a corridor. "Please accept Pinky's gratitude once more for your tolerance, and be sure to let Pinky know if you need anything else."
Harry gave the polite house elf one final smile. "Thank you, Pinky. That will be all."
The little elf scurried away, and Harry turned to face the girl's bedroom. He immediately regretted not asking Pinky to open the door ahead of him. His professional integrity demanded that he deliver the tutoring session he was being paid for, but he felt a bit weird about entering a teenage girl's bedroom without permission.
Steeling his nerves, he knocked on the door. Tactically and somewhat underhandedly, he didn't say anything, as he knew the girl probably wouldn't open it if she knew who was on the other side.
A few moments later, the door creaked open and the face of the girl from earlier poked out from behind it.
Harry plastered on the most friendly expression he could muster.
"Hello there!" he said.
Her eyes widened in surprise and possibly fear, and promptly slammed the door.
"Ouch!" Harry shouted, having strategically positioned his foot in the door frame the moment it opened. "Wait, just give me a chance!"
"No!" the girl screamed, trying to force the door closed on Harry's foot. "How the hell did you get in my house! I'm calling the police!"
"Ow! Ow!" Harry shouted as his foot was repeatedly crushed. "Your house elf let me in! Ow! Please, just let me tutor you!"
"I already told you to go home! I'll tell my mom we did the session!"
"My pride as an educator won't allow- Ouch! Will you stop slamming the door on my foot!?"
The girl paused, clearly debating whether or not to crush his foot again, but eventually let go of the door. She was still looking at him warily.
"You know, my mom's hired a lot of tutors before, but you're the first one to break into our house…"
"I didn't break into your house," he explained. "I rang the doorbell again after you left, and your lovely house elf Pinky answered. Now will you let me into your room so we can do some magic?"
The girl scowled. "You could not have picked a creepier way of saying that."
Harry grimaced. Playing back the words in his head, he was rather under the impression the girl was right.
She opened the door nonetheless, and upon entering, Harry discovered the room was quite spacious. There were several wardrobes, dressers, and tall mirrors lining her walls, and an open expanse in the middle which he figured would be perfect for their purposes.
She caught him looking and narrowed her eyes.
"Hey. I'll do this stupid tutoring session if it means getting you off my back, but I swear to God if you go searching through my sock drawer I'll make sure you can't go out in public anymore."
Harry blinked at the girl. "Your sock drawer?"
She shrugged. "You look like the kind of guy who'd get off on rifling through a girl's sock drawer."
He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head in confusion. What did that even mean?
"Listen, all I want to do is what I'm being paid to do," he said, deciding to ignore her comment. "Which means helping you with your magic. The rest of that stuff…it doesn't have a place here. If we can agree to those terms, I think you'll find this whole thing a lot less painful than you're expecting. Okay?"
"Whatever."
She pulled out a chair from one corner of her room, slumping into it with a dramatic sigh. Harry found another and sat down carefully a few meters across from her.
"Now, I have it written in my scheduler that you've been struggling with charms," he said, glad they were finally getting started. "Are there any charms in particular that you'd like to look at, or should we go through some of the basics first?"
The girl scrunched her nose and shook her head. "I don't care about learning the basics. I just need to be able to shoot sparks out of my wand."
Harry raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything the girl spoke over him.
"No, I'm serious. I have to shoot sparks out of my wand for some silly event next month, and that's why my mom hired a tutor."
"And you've been having difficulty with that?" he asked. "Shooting sparks out of your wand, I mean?"
She nodded. "I can make a little pop and fizzle, but I need it to be big for the event."
Harry was a little concerned that a witch her age couldn't shoot sparks out of her wand, but he was encouraged that they now had a clear objective.
"Alright, we can work with that. Why don't you show me your cast, and I'll see if we can't clean up your technique."
"Sure."
The girl rose from her chair, retrieved her wand from a nearby table, and then pointed it directly at Harry.
"Verdimillious!"
Harry's adrenaline kicked in and he rolled out of his chair just in time for a jet of green sparks to shoot from the girl's wand and…drop to the floor with a pitiful sizzle directly in front of her. Harry let out a sigh of relief.
"Okay, first off," he said, picking himself off the floor, "we do not point our wands at anyone while practicing magic. Secondly, I'm going to need you to do that again, with your wand pointed away from me this time. I can't watch your cast while I'm busy trying to dodge it."
She gave him a blank look, and Harry started to genuinely wonder if she was playing dumb or just plain dumb. A moment later she pointed her wand at the ceiling, repeating the same incantation as before.
"Verdi-"
"Okay, stop," Harry said, cutting her off before she could finish. "You're holding your wand wrong. Your thumb should be pressed against the shaft of the wood, not wrapped around your fingers. You'll have more control that way, and the security might put a bit more power behind your spells as well."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He stepped closer to her, raising his hand above hers.
"May I?"
She gave him a reluctant nod and he grabbed her thumb, moving it into the described position. While he was there he shifted her grip up the wand a little bit, and then gently shook her wrist until she relaxed it.
"There," he said after he had finished making his adjustments. "Now try again."
She looked at her wand dubiously, but otherwise did as she was told.
"Verdimillious!"
Immediately, a much larger stream of green sparks shot from her wand, reaching the top of her ceiling before exploding with a satisfying little pop. Harry smiled in delight, and the girl turned to him with a similar, albeit more excited expression on her face. His own smile widened further at the sight; moments like these were why he loved teaching.
"There you go!" he said. "Better already. Now we just need to fix that articulation of yours, and we'll be making fireworks in no time!"
She blushed, clearly embarrassed that she had shown any form of positive emotion, before schooling her features and crossing her arms in the textbook 'ugh, whatever' posture. Harry wasn't discouraged; he still saw a hint of satisfaction on her face.
"Do you need to make everything sound super lame?" she asked.
Harry considered the question and shrugged. "Maybe I do."
Despite everything, it was one of her weaker insults today, and he decided to take that as a sign of progress.
They continued to make progress for the better part of the next two hours, until the girl was able to shoot sparks all the way across her room. Harry told her that she'd have to practice outside from now on, but to take it easy for the rest of the day while her magic recovered.
"I guess you're not as bad of a teacher as you look," she admitted begrudgingly by the end of their session. "You're still a creep, and you still look like a knock off Harry Potter, but I'll give you that at least."
Harry sighed. Couldn't the girl just give him a compliment without insulting him in the next breath?
"Thanks," he said eventually, deciding to take what he could get. "You're…not the worst student I've had, either."
She shrugged, fishing around in her pocket. Her hand emerged a moment later with a cigarette, and she lit it up with a zippo from the other. Harry might've found it mildly amusing to see a witch use a lighter instead of her wand, but he was too busy fixing her with a disapproving glare.
"Those things will kill you, you know," he said, pointing at the cigarette.
Harry was an educator through and through, and believed it was one of his duties to make sure children didn't make bad decisions they'd come to regret later in life. Incidentally, Harry was also an unabashed busybody.
The girl shrugged. "Maybe, but something's gonna kill me either way. Better to die while I'm young and pretty than old and decrepit."
Harry shook his head in disappointment. More than anything else she'd said today, those were words spoken by someone with no perspective.
"You're a minor, anyway," he said. "It's against the law for you to smoke, so it's within my purview as an honorary member of the government to confiscate that."
He flicked his wand in her direction, and the cigarette slipped free from her lips and into the air. It hovered a few feet in front of her, and she stared at it in shock for only a moment before turning her glare on Harry.
"Hey! That's mine!" she hissed, reaching for the suspended cigarette. It dodged out of her grasp at the last moment, and her fist closed around empty air. "Give it back! I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions!"
Harry seriously doubted the girl was eighteen, but even if she was, he wouldn't allow any student of his to smoke in his classroom. Incidentally, Harry considered any location in which he taught 'his classroom' for the duration in which he taught in it. He really was an unabashed busybody.
"This is part of your lesson," he said. "If you want your cigarette back, you'll have to summon it with charmwork. Say 'Accio cigarette!' loudly and clearly."
She growled at him. "I'm not playing your stupid game, loser! Just give me back my cigarette!"
"You might think smoking is cool while you're young, but there are several serious health complications that can be associated with tobacc-"
Instead of listening to Harry's lecture, the girl lunged at his arm, trying to knock his wand out of his hand with physical force. Her sudden aggressive action surprised Harry at first, but he was in good physical condition and the relatively small girl couldn't get him to budge even as she wrestled him.
"Hey, relax!" he yelled. "Listen, you can do whatever you want once I leave, but as your tutor, I won't allow you to smoke during our-"
"Give it back!" she screeched, and the sheer anger in her voice startled Harry more than her original attack had.
They jostled for another few seconds, and Harry was still trying to figure out how to handle the unexpected situation when the girl tugged his forearm down into bite range.
Chomp!
Harry yelped in pain as she bit as hard as she could into his arm, drawing blood with her incisors. Both his wand and the cigarette clattered to the floor, and the girl picked up the latter with a satisfied smirk.
"Accio cigarette," she said smugly, taking a victorious drag and wiping a spot of Harry's blood off her lip. "Now get out of my house or I'll-"
The door slammed open, and an irate middle-aged woman stormed in. Behind her, Pinky trailed sheepishly.
"Astoria!" the woman yelled. "What the hell are you doing!?" She eyed the girl's ensemble, and her fury deepened. "And what the hell are you wearing!? That isn't the outfit I prepared for you this morning!"
She stomped over to the stunned looking girl and grabbed the hard-won cigarette from her slack fingers. The woman crushed it in her hand like a stress ball and threw it on the floor. A small part of Harry's brain couldn't help but wonder if that had hurt; if it had, she didn't show any sign of it.
"I thought I made it very clear what would happen to you if I found you smoking another one of those disgusting things," she said, staring down at her. "Do I need to remind you again?"
The girl shook her head, and spoke her first words since the woman's arrival. They were soft and deferential.
"No, mom."
"Good."
The woman then turned to Harry, acknowledging his presence for the first time, and plastered on a matronly smile that was a jarring reversal of her earlier anger.
"I'm so sorry Harry, you'll have to excuse my daughter," she said sweetly, approaching him and grabbing his hands. "Astoria's been under a lot of pressure lately, and she's suffering from the occasional lapse in judgement." She took out her wand, and the bite mark on Harry's arm faded with a wave.
"Oh…it's okay," he said, still a little taken aback by the developments of the past few minutes. "I've been told it was only a matter of time before I got bitten in this line of work anyway…"
A moment later, the woman's words caught up to him and he froze. He turned to look back at the girl he had just spent the past two hours tutoring, and then being bitten by.
"Wait," he said, turning back to her mom. "Did you just say: 'Astoria'?"
The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, you didn't know?"
Harry shook his head, and for the first time realized that neither teacher nor student had properly introduced themselves.
"Well, since she couldn't be bothered to tell you herself, this is my daughter Astoria Greengrass," she said, gesturing to the shamefaced girl. "I assume you've at least heard the name?"
Harry's jaw dropped, and he spun around so fast he almost got dizzy. Sure, the girl had the right build, blonde hair, and facial features which mostly resembled Astoria Greengrass…
"What are you looking at, creep?"
…but she was also violent, a total brat, and nothing like the pure-hearted angel he knew and loved.
"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "That's not possible."
She scowled at him. "Oh yeah? What the f-"
"Astoria!" her mother yelled. "Not another word out of you! You just had the privilege of being tutored by Harry Potter, and you will not repay his generosity with this ridiculous rebellious act of yours! Now go to the living room and wait for me – we'll be having a talk shortly. I need to have a few words with Mr. Potter first. Alone."
The expression on Astoria's face slowly faded into the same look of blank shock that was on Harry's as she stared at him.
"Wait," she said, "so you're actually-"
"Astoria!" her mom yelled. "I won't ask again!"
Still in a bit of a stupor, Astoria paused for only a second before shuffling out of the room. Her wide eyes didn't leave Harry's until the door was slammed in her face.
"I'm so sorry," Astoria's mom said, turning back to Harry. "As I said, the stress has been really getting to her lately. She's been particularly unresponsive with her tutors, but I thought she'd be on her best behaviour if it was with you…"
Harry scratched the back of his head. "Er…no, that might've been my fault," he said. "We had a somewhat rocky start, and I didn't actually introduce myself. Then I antagonized her-"
"No, it's my fault. Astoria's been overworked, and she takes it out on everyone else." She shot Harry a meaningful look. "I'll have another talk with her, and we'll try to get things sorted. In the meantime…can I trust your discretion?"
Harry's eyes widened as he understood what she meant.
"Oh, of course!" he said immediately. "On my honor as an educator, everything that happens within the session stays confidential. I wouldn't talk to anyone about this!"
"Good, good," the woman replied, smiling sweetly. "A true professional. I can respect that."
Not that Harry was particularly confident anyone would believe him even if he did tell them that their favorite idol was a rude, cigarette-smoking, arm-biting little brat.
"Right..."
After all, he barely believed it himself.