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keldae · 3 months

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Cute, shippy starters: 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? *Oh.*”

Devi loved cats, for the most part. Having grown up in the Lower City, stray cats had been all over the place; and most of them, after some obligatory introductory hissing, seemed to tolerate the little half-Elf thief well enough. Some had even learned that, if they were friendly enough, Devi might share her food scraps with them while she waited for her next mark. It hadn't been uncommon for Devi to have a cat curled up beside her while she had sat on a roof ledge, or prowling around her legs while she'd scoped out a new target. Her father would never have let her keep one for a pet, but she enjoyed giving scritches and pets where she could to the stray animals.

And then there was Tara.

Devi supposed her first mistake had been referring to Tara as “Gale's tressym” – she'd immediately gotten hissed at for that. She hadn't made the same mistake again, but Tara seemed to not ever forget a grudge. Even after Devi had come home with Gale to Waterdeep, Tara had regarded the thief with aloof suspicion. She was incredibly different from the normal cats Devi had grown used to, and even with regular usage of a potion to let her speak with animals, the two regularly butted heads.

She knew it caused Gale distress, that the woman he loved and the tressym he adored seemed to be permanently at odds. “Was she like this with Mystra too?” she had asked one day, watching Tara fly in pursuit of a hapless pigeon.

Gale had snorted. “Given how Mystra and I ended, and the sixth sense that animals have about such things, I like to think Tara would have tried to claw her eyes out if they'd ever met.” He'd smiled and given Devi a kiss on the temple. “I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually. She's just… cautious with new people.”

That had been well over a tenday ago, and Devi still wasn't sure how long ‘eventually’ was supposed to last.

She sat in her favourite chair in Gale's tower, idly plucking at the strings on her violin. Gale himself was out today – he'd been summoned to some sort of meeting with another wizard, and the tone of the invitation had made it clear that Devi wasn't invited. Honestly, Gale had been more offended at the entire matter than she'd been. She'd sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she wouldn't find any mischief in his absence. And so far, she'd been good to her word, reading one of his many books and coming up with a new melody to play on the violin.

She sighed, looking out the window for a moment, then winced as her stomach lurched threateningly. Apparently whatever stomach flu she had somehow picked up (that Gale had dodged. Lucky bastard of a wizard.) was still not fully out of her system. And that had been the other reason Gale had been reluctant to go to this meeting with his colleague – he was worried about her, after the last four days of her waking up sick and struggling to keep anything she ate down.

Maybe it was the coffee he had introduced her to. Devi wrinkled her nose in thought. That was something she had never been introduced to as a poor Baldurian thief – perhaps the rich, stimulant brew was the cause of her–

Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to set her violin on the table and grab an empty pail before her stomach violently rejected the two pieces of toasted bread and the banana she'd eaten less than an hour ago.

Wincing as her stomach eventually stopped revolting, she spat into the bucket, then shakily stood up, intent on finding water to rinse her mouth out before disposing of the vomited meal. “Fucking hells,” she mumbled, scowling down at her stomach. “Are you done yet?”

“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice behind Devi, one that made her jump. “Mr. Dekarios will not be pleased to learn that you're still ill.” With a flutter of her wings, Tara jumped up onto the table, regarding Devi with a stern look. “Had I thumbs, I would make you drink some tea.”

“Gale's been trying with the tea,” Devi said, finding a carafe of water in the kitchen and swishing a mouthful around to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She spat into the bucket, still feeling Tara's eyes on her. “I think it helps a little bit?”

Tara lowly growled, then jumped to the counter. “Here,” she said, standing up on her hind legs to paw at a rack of herbs. “Mr. Dekarios keeps ginger up in this rack, and that should help with human – or half-Elf – nausea.”

“... Thank you.” Devi approached the counter, reaching around the fluffy head and wings to grab the large ginger root. Finding where Gale kept his kitchen knives, she carefully cut off a thin slice of the ginger, then put it in her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the strong taste. “Please work,” she mumbled as she put the rest of the root away, then moved to clean off the knife. She knew how particular Gale was with his knives.

Tara sat on the counter, tail swishing as she watched the thief clean and return the knife to its block. “I know you haven't been sleeping either,” the tressym said, “what with constantly waking up sick the last few nights. Go lie down.”

Devi frowned at the idea of taking orders from the winged cat. “I'm honestly all right,” she started to say. “I don't feel–”

She blinked as a paw batted at her arm. “You clearly are not all right,” Tara scolded. “And I'll not have Mr. Dekarios fretting over if you're getting enough rest while you’re so obviously ill. He's made it quite clear that he cares a great deal about you.” The tressym shifted her weight, then jumped onto Devi’s shoulders, making her stagger with a little grunt at the weight of a heavy winged cat perching on her. “To bed with you, Deviali.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief muttered. “What about if I just sit and read or–”

Tara growled threateningly.

Devi sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m going.” She wouldn’t ever admit it to Tara, but she was tired, after four mornings of waking up sick before the time that she and Gale normally got up. And it was impossible to quietly vomit, as she’d figured out the hard way – Gale was always at her side within a minute of her lunging out of bed, holding her hair back and looking at her with open concern in his eyes. “What do you care about me?” the half-Elf asked the tressym as she started making her way to the bedroom, with a longing glance at her violin. “You don’t seem to like me as it is.”

Seemingly noticing which way Devi’s eyes went, Tara lightly smacked the side of her face with her paw to make her focus on going to bed. “My opinions are moot. Mr. Dekarios adores you, which means that it becomes my duty to look after you like I do him. I’ve looked after that wizard since he was a boy – I’m not about to fly off because he picked you.” She settled across the back of Devi’s neck, like an oversized, winged scarf. “And if I don’t look after you, then it becomes the dog’s job to tend to you, and he is not a suitable caretaker.”

“Scratch is perfectly fine,” Devi protested, obligated to defend what she had come to think of as ‘her’ dog since the day he’d shown up in camp. “And he doesn’t try to nursemaid me or anything–”

“My point exactly. You’re obviously ill, and dogs, while loyal, do not understand taking care of two-legged creatures with no self-preservation instincts.”

“... I have perfectly fine self-preservation instincts,” Devi grumbled as she entered the bedroom and sat down on her side of the bed.

“That’s not the impression I got from hearing Mr. Dekarios’ stories about you during your little adventure,” Tara disagreed. She hopped down from Devi’s shoulders, then settled on the thief’s lap, giving her a pointed look. “If I have to make you lie down…”

Devi thought about arguing with the cat, then saw Tara warningly flex her front paws, revealing sharp claws under her fur, and thought better of it. “I can’t believe I just lost an argument with you,” she complained, laying down and curling up on her side.

Tara’s tail twitched in an almost smug manner. “Please feel free to ask Mr. Dekarios why he doesn’t pick fights with me anymore.” She climbed up onto Devi’s hip and started kneading the half-Elf through her trousers. “Ugh, you’re far too thin still. Is Mr. Dekarios not feeding you sufficiently?”

“If Gale could feed me himself, he would,” Devi muttered. “It’s hard to eat when everything he makes, no matter how good, keeps coming back up.”

“If you wake up sick again tomorrow,” Tara mused, “I’m going to have to tell him to fetch a cleric or visit an apothecary. Then again, perhaps he’ll bring something home tonight for you to feel better.” She jumped down to the mattress and, to Devi’s surprise, curled up against the thief’s stomach. “You are not to move from this bed until Mr. Dekarios returns home this evening, and you do not want to know what the consequences will be if you disobey me. Are we understood?”

“I’m being bullied into taking a nap by a tressym,” Devi groused, and promptly got batted by one of Tara’s wings. “Ow!”

“Somebody has to ensure that you rest and recover, if you’re not going to look after yourself.” Tara’s vivid eyes met Devi’s without blinking. “Now, I will allow you to offer scratches to my ears, just this once. Do not get used to it.”

Devi eyed the tressym for a moment, then slowly reached to slowly pet the top of Tara’s head, rubbing behind her ears. She was quickly rewarded with the low rumble of a pleased purr, vibrating against her stomach. Despite the half-Elf’s reluctance to take a nap, the feeling of curling up in bed with a large cat – or tressym – snuggled up against her upset stomach did feel very soothing. She sighed, then let her eyes drift closed, and felt Tara’s purring grow a little louder, as though the tressym approved. “You’re still the worst,” she muttered.

“Likewise, Deviali,” Tara smugly said, her purring never stopping. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief grumbled, even if part of her knew that the tressym would always use her despised full name, until the day Devi married Gale and took his last name for her own. Then it would probably become “Mrs. Dekarios”.

That actually has a nice ring to it, she thought as she felt herself slowly drift away into sleep, lulled by the sounds of Tara's purring.

—

Gale frowned slightly as he entered his tower, expecting to be greeted on his return home. The only lifeform to welcome him was Scratch, curled up by the fireplace; the dog looked up and thumped his tail against the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “Where’s Devi, hmm?” the wizard asked, kneeling to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

Scratch wuffed, then set his head back down on his front paws. “Upstairs,” he said – Gale, once again, was grateful for the spell that let him speak with animals. “She’s been upstairs with Tara all day.”

That got a small wince from Gale – he almost wondered if there had been bloodshed in his home during his absence. “Good boy, Scratch,” he said, standing back up and making his way through the tower. It was suspiciously quiet in his residence: no Tara trotting or flying up to see him with a meow of greeting, no sounds of Devi playing her violin, no pretty half-Elf emerging from a doorway with a smile on her face to see her betrothed. He sighed, wondering if Devi and Tara had managed to kill each other while he’d been stuck all day with his wizarding colleagues. “Devi?” he lowly called out. “Tara?”

No sign of Tara anywhere – perhaps she was out hunting pigeons again. But Devi should have been here. Gale poked his head into the common room, then into his study – no sign of his favourite thief in either room, besides the violin resting on a table beside the window. Perhaps the bedroom, then? Gods knew that she hadn’t been resting well, with waking up sick every morning the past few days. He could only pray that the potions in his satchel, purchased from the apothecary only an hour ago, would cure whatever was wrong with her. He approached the bedroom door, only slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open. “Have you seen –” he started to say as he looked in – a second later, he went silent, his eyes softening. “Oh.”

On the bed, Tara looked up from where she was curled against a sleeping Devi, the tip of her tail swishing before her nose. “Not a word from you about this compromising position,” she quietly said, ears tilting back slightly. “It was the only way to make sure she rested. She was ill again this afternoon while you were gone.”

“Again?” Gale frowned worriedly as he sat on the edge of the bed; Tara stood up and stretched, then climbed up onto his shoulders, curling up around his neck and purring away. “Thank you for looking after her, Tara – I know you disapprove of her, but I love her.”

“I know you do. And it is good to see you happy with her, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara carefully adjusted her wings so she wouldn’t hit Gale in the back of the head with the large appendages. “She’s slept the last two hours after being ill again. You did stop at an apothecary for something to cure her, yes?”

“I did – and I’ve been assured that the potions I bought should fix anything.” The wizard carefully leaned down to Devi’s face, pressing gentle kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hello, my love,” he murmured as Devi started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”

Devi’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at Gale; her lips pulled up in a smile once she recognized him. “Hey, you,” she quietly said, reaching up to kiss him. “Welcome home.”

Gale smiled fondly as he returned Devi’s kiss, stroking his hand through her long hair. “And it feels the most like home when you’re here to grace it with your presence,” he softly chuckled. “Are you feeling better? Tara mentioned you were ill again.”

“Traitor,” Devi muttered, frowning up at the smug tressym, before slowly sitting up. “I… think I’m all right? At least for–” She froze, eyes widening as her hand settled on her stomach. “... Shit.”

Instinct had Gale stand up and get the hell out of Devi’s way, a second before she was on her feet and fleeing to the water closet. He frowned, worry becoming full-fledged anxiety as he started fishing around in his satchel for a potion. “Tara, can you stay with her for another minute while I get her some water?”

Tara was off his shoulders and flying after Devi almost before he’d finished speaking. “Do hurry, Mr. Dekarios,” she called back. “I am not an expert on half-Elves, but something is certainly wrong.”

#bg3 fic #bg3 #post-epilogue #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale dekarios #Deviali #tara the tressym #tara was fun to write #her and devi bickering pleases me #as much as Tara being a reluctant mother to Devi #also... oh Devi that isn't a stomach flu you've got going on #for the record #this has been sitting in my inbox since 11 November 2017 #oldest prompt that's been waiting for me #Kel answers prompts a million years later #Kel writes

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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 1 year

Text

Unwelcome

By: @floreatcastellumposts

Prompt(s): Frost & First Christmas without [Character]

Look alive my friends because Floreatcastellum has secured us an invite to the Potter family’s Christmas dinner! ✨Read all about their festivities – which may or may not include a dash of angst and some unexpected guests – right here or on AO3! _________________________________________

The Christmas tree was decorated in the same way it was every year, down to the last bauble. Aunt Petunia had a very strict colour scheme of white and blue, and at some point or another she had apparently found the ideal position for each and every ornament, for rather than risk changing it she simply wrapped the plastic tree in clingfilm for storage in the attic 362 days of the year.

Harry, eight years old and now well used to the Christmas routine, stared vaguely at the frosty tree, his eyes focused on the only new addition; a clumsy clay ornament. It was an unidentifiable splodge of glitter and a smear of paint, Dudley’s efforts of less than five minutes in art at school before they had broken up for the Christmas holidays. Harry had spent the whole lesson on his, making the star of Bethlehem, yellow paint with gold glitter. He had no idea what had happened to it, for he had not seen it since he had brought it home.

‘Bed,’ said Aunt Petunia briskly.

Harry huffed. ‘Can’t I stay up later to-?’

‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘Come on - last chance to impress Father Christmas.’

‘Father Christmas isn’t real,’ he said flatly.

Aunt Petunia made a hissing noise not unlike one of Mrs Figg’s cats. ‘Don’t say things like that in front of Dudders.’

Harry glanced over to the sofa, where Dudley was sitting, staring slack-jawed and staring at the telly. He clearly hadn’t heard. ‘Or what?’ he asked. ‘I’ll get something worse than coal?’

She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and heaved him up. ‘You’re lucky to have a roof over your head!’ she reminded him, and dragged him to his cupboard. As she pushed him in, she seemed to change her mind, and pulled him back, bent low so her face was inches from his own. ‘Don’t you dare speak to your aunt Marge like that tomorrow.’

‘She’s not my-’

‘I mean it! Do not spoil our family Christmas.’

With that, he was shoved into his cupboard, where thankfully she could not see him roll his eyes. That night, he stared at the thin line of light that acted as a halo around his cupboard door, where someone had left the hallway light on, and dreaded the next day.

***

Several years later, Harry was in full force in the kitchen. A knife was speedily chopping veg beside him, while a wooden spoon stirred a saucepan vigorously. He, a tea towel slung over his shoulder and an expression of mild stress over his face, was checking the large turkey in the oven. Despite the sound of the radio playing Christmas music, and the clattering of Ginny in the larder searching for more garlic, he heard the sound of a lid being lifted off a large ceramic pot he knew held the pigs in blankets.

‘Don’t eat those!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Why not? It’s Christmas.’

‘You know wh- put them down!’

He heard James huff, but replace the lid. Lily’s voice, belting along to the Christmas music, passed through the room as Harry ladeled oil over the turkey. ‘Am I going to have-?’ he heard her interrupt herself.

‘Yes, you’ve got a nut roast,’ he called back, pushing the turkey back in.

‘Next year you should all consider refusing to participate in the needless slaughter of millions of birds-’

‘Harry, there’s absolutely none in here,’ said Ginny, sticking her head out of the larder door. ‘Are you sure you got some?’

‘Yeah, definitely - a whole braid. I was with Ron, he made a crap joke about vampires.’

‘Oh, are you looking for the garlic?’ said James. Both Harry and Ginny turned to stare at him. ‘Yeah, it’s my room.’

‘Why?’

‘Dora was playing with it.’

‘Yesterday?’

‘Yeah. I was a vampire. She was hunting me down.’

‘And it’s been in your room since then?’

He shrugged and nodded. Ginny gave a great sigh, held up her wand and summoned it. It zoomed into the kitchen and she caught it with the unerring skill of a chaser, then started speedily peeling a bulb.

‘Right, that’s that mystery solved,’ said Harry. ‘Next job - could someone nip into the garden and get some sage?’

‘On it,’ called James, heading speedily to the back door.

‘When’s it going to be ready?’ asked Lily. ‘I’m starving.’

‘I don’t know - soon,’ lied Harry. ‘Why don’t you set the table?’

‘I have, and I put paper chains up.’

Harry could easily imagine the web of paper chains he was sure would greet him in the dining room. He gave a non-committal hum and turned back to the oven, causing his glasses to fog over.

‘I thought you and Mum said Christmas dinner would be at twelve.’

‘Yes, well,’ said Ginny breezily. ‘Harry, how’s it looking?’

‘Still pink in the middle.’

‘Right, well bring it out anyway, I’ll add the garlic and then we can maybe add a charm or two to hurry things along, I reckon that’d be-’

‘Hello!’ James called, as he returned from the garden. ‘Look who I found skulking by the gate.’

Harry turned round from the stove. There, in his doorway, was Draco Malfoy, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. He wished very much that he was not wearing an apron covered in flour, or at that very least that his glasses had fully defogged from the heat of the oven.

‘Oh…’ said Ginny. ‘Hello.’

‘I came to pick up Scorpius,’ said Malfoy stiffly. He looked astoundingly out of place in their kitchen; Harry vaguely wondered if he had ever come into a house through the back door in his life. His black velvet robes cast a rather sombre atmosphere even with the radio blaring out A Christmas Cauldron For You and Me.

‘They’re out on a walk,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m sure they’ll be back soon - but - I’m sorry - I thought we said he was staying for Christmas dinner and then-?’

‘I was under the impression you’d be finished by now,’ said Malfoy. ‘You said you’d be sitting to eat at midday.’

‘Ah, well, yes, that was always ambitious.’

‘It is now nearly three,’ he said pointedly.

‘Dad got his timings wrong,’ said James helpfully. ‘He’s trying to give us all food poisoning.’

Harry cleared his throat. ‘James, why don’t you go and find Al and Scorpius?’

‘They could be anywhere.’

‘You’re an auror, I’m sure you can find them.’ He hoped that his tone struck the right balance between irritation and politeness in front of their guest, but judging from James’s delighted grin, it hadn’t. Nevertheless, he chucked a sprig of sage on the kitchen island, and bounded back outside.

Silence fell on the kitchen. Lily looked between her parents and Draco Malfoy. ‘I’m going to… go and do that thing,’ she said lamely, and then she too, swiftly left the room. Harry would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so uncomfortable.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lips parted, but he said nothing, just looked slowly over his shoulder.

‘I think they’ll be a little while,’ Ginny prompted.

‘I… yes, then, thank you.’

‘Wine? Beer? Tea?’ When Malfoy continued to awkwardly say nothing, Harry offered, ‘something stronger?’

‘You don’t have any brandy, by any chance?’

‘We do,’ said Harry. ‘Erm…’ He glanced at the kitchen table, which was heaped with bowls of vegetable peelings, crumpled up Christmas wrapping, and a tin of chocolate from which James had been grazing all day. ‘Why don’t you take a seat in the dining room? It’s just through there. I’ll bring you the drink.’

‘Yes,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘All right.’

They parted ways, Malfoy to the door that led to the hallway, from which the dining room was opposite, Harry into the living room to their drinks cabinet in the corner. Luckily he had bought brandy purely for the purposes of setting the Christmas pudding on fire, so he opened up a new bottle and poured what he guessed was a normal measure. A vivid memory hit him suddenly, of Aunt Marge smacking her lips over a Christmas brandy, swirling it appreciatively. It left him feeling suddenly cold, though the fire was crackling merrily in their snug room.

He pushed it down, and took the drink back through to the kitchen, where he held it out to Ginny. She looked at it, then back up at him with a confused shrug. ‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Can you take it through to him?’ he whispered back.

‘Erm… no?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because then I’ll have to sit in there with him?’

He looked at her pleadingly. ‘I can’t go and sit in there with him, we hate each other.’

She closed her eyes and nodded with faux-understanding. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot how we’re best friends. Simply adore each other. Borders on an emotional affair sometimes.’

‘There’s less history between you two than us,’ he implored.

‘By about this much,’ she said, pinching the air. ‘You were the one who offered him a drink-’

‘Look, all right, let’s-’ He leaned quickly and placed the glass of brandy on the crowded kitchen island, and then held out his fist to motion for a game of rock paper scissors. Ginny won. ‘Best out of three,’ he whispered hurriedly. Ginny nodded, and then won again. Harry sighed his groan. ‘Best out of-’

‘No,’ she said dangerously, holding out her finger in warning.

‘Fine,’ he muttered irritably, and he poured himself a generous glass of red wine before taking it and the brandy through.

In the dining room, Malfoy was sat on one of the chairs Ginny had decorated with giant Santa hats over the backs, at the table decorated with bright baubles stuck together to act as candle holders, beneath a canopy of paper chains, all clashing colours. The fairy lights strung around the picture rail and mirror were flashing rapidly so that Malfoy’s face was lit in red, blue, green and yellow within seconds. He did not, Harry noted, seem very impressed with their Christmas decor. His expression was that of someone trying to hold back revulsion. No doubt Malfoy manor was a little more elegant and co-ordinated in these matters. Perhaps, he thought viciously, with little glittery dark mark ornaments on the tree.

Harry sat on the other side of the table to Malfoy, as far away as he felt was socially acceptable. Another vivid memory struck him as he slid Malfoy’s drink over to him, of Snape and Sirius, sitting in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, looking away from one another.

‘Thank you,’ said Malfoy, taking the brandy.

‘No problem,’ said Harry. ‘My apologies for running behind - years of Christmases where the children get you up at the crack of dawn and then all of a sudden they’re teenagers and everyone ends up sleeping off Christmas Eve drinks.’

‘I see,’ said Malfoy.

There was a long silence. ‘Then Ginny and I were having problems with the cooking,’ Harry continued, to fill it. ‘Turns out the oven wasn’t actually on for a good hour, and then we couldn’t find the garlic and - well it’s a bigger turkey than I realised.’

‘Right,’ said Malfoy. He looked around the table, at the pristine plates and the un-pulled crackers. ‘So you haven’t eaten at all?’

‘No,’ said Harry, who thought that had been obvious.

‘You still have a tea towel on your shoulder,’ said Malfoy.

Harry snatched it off, and smoothed down his floury apron. ‘All part of the… look,’ he muttered, his cheeks hot.

‘Diligent househusband?’ said Malfoy lightly.

‘Something wrong with that?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Glad we’re agreed. But you know that I do in fact work for a living. I think your family have seen me in a professional capacity.’

‘Well, my parents have, certainly, thank you for bringing that up,’ said Malfoy, the edge in his voice as sharp as Harry felt he probably deserved for the jibe. He could not bring himself to feign an apology, however, so simply let the silence continue for some time, looking down at the dark red wine in his glass. At last, Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘If… if you all still need to eat I can go - Scorpius and Al can floo back later, once you’re all done.’

Yep, Harry wanted to say. Good idea, you do that, bye.

‘Please don’t feel you need to do that,’ he said politely instead. ‘We agreed the boys would spend the morning and lunch here, and that they’d go to you for the evening and tomorrow, we’ve taken up too much of your time with your son as it is.’

Malfoy nodded, still clearly irritated.

‘And - once they’re back,’ said Harry reluctantly, ‘we can see if they’d prefer to eat with us or take some food back to yours. I expect you’ve already eaten.’

‘Of course,’ said Malfoy. ‘Is it,’ he checked his watch, ‘gone three now.’

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort by sipping from his wine, and falling back into thick silence. By the fire, the enchanted nutcracker soldier burst into a merry tune and began dancing enthusiastically, as it was charmed to do every few minutes. Both men ignored it.

‘Just so you know,’ said Malfoy eventually. ‘I wasn’t, er… skulking by the gate.’

‘Oh, no I’m sure you weren’t-’

‘Your son came out just as I arrived and I was checking my watch-’

‘Please ignore his comment, he just likes to wind people up-’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘He’s not doing it to be mean,’ said Harry defensively.

‘I’m sure, not what I meant to imply,’ said Malfoy swiftly.

‘He just likes a laugh.’

‘Yes.’ Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘So does my son.’

‘He does, yes,’ agreed Harry. ‘Very confident, charming…’ Once again, thought Harry, he deserved another Order of Merlin for not adding ‘unlike you’. Malfoy simply nodded in response, and they both drank from their glasses far longer than necessary.

‘Wow, it’s so loud in here,’ said James, as he entered the room a painfully long ten minutes of silence later. For maximum effect, he leant back and grimaced as though he had walked into a heavy metal concert. ‘Don’t you two ever shut up?’

Both Harry and Malfoy stared at him. This did not seem to phase James at all; he called over his shoulder to the kitchen. ‘Hurry up, you two!’

Moments later, Al and Scorpius walked in, stopped dead at the sight of Harry and Malfoy, and burst into fits of laughter.

‘What are you doing here?’ Scorpius asked his father.

‘Are you both having a nice time?’ asked Al. ‘How long have you both been in here?’

‘All right…’ said Harry wearily. Scorpius was actually wiping at his eyes as he spluttered through his laughter.

‘James told us dinner was finally ready,’ Al said.

‘It’s not,’ said Malfoy flatly.

‘It nearly is,’ said Harry hurriedly.

‘Seven minutes!’ shouted Ginny from the kitchen.

‘You have a decision to make, boys,’ said Malfoy authoritatively. ‘Either you stay here for your Christmas dinner or you come home with me as was the prior agreement. Mr Potter has suggested that you take some food with you.’

‘How about you join us for Christmas dinner, Mr Malfoy?’ asked James innocently, causing Scorpius to let out a scream of laughter and Al to nearly bend double, his shoulders shaking.

‘I’ve already eaten,’ said Malfoy. ‘And I don’t wish to impose any further. I’m perfectly happy with whatever you choose, boys.’

They seemed to collect themselves, the laughter fading away in little bursts. ‘Are… Granny and Grandpa still there?’ asked Scorpius.

Malfoy hesitated, and to Harry’s astonishment, he glanced to him, the way one would seeking reassurance. ‘No,’ he said, with great gentleness. ‘No, they’ve gone home.’

Scorpius nodded slowly, and his usual easy, bright smile was now rather forced. ‘Sure. All right. Safe to come home then.’

‘Always safe,’ said Malfoy. Scorpius hummed, and then looked at Al, who looked back.

Harry, sensing that the conversation would be too awkward to have in front of parents, rose, seizing his glass. ‘Can I get you more, Malfoy, while the boys make their decision?’

‘Oh, no thank you,’ said Malfoy, missing Harry’s intention altogether. He tried to give him an exasperated look to hint further, but Malfoy’s eyes were fixed on his son.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Harry left the room and went through to the kitchen to help Ginny with the last of the dinner, James following. Lily was there too, spooning brussel sprouts into a serving dish.

‘Well?’ Ginny asked.

‘They’re making their minds up,’ said Harry. ‘Want me to carve up?’

‘Please.’

‘Will you at least try my nut roast, Dad? You might prefer it-’

‘I try it every year, Lily, it’s very nice. Not as nice as turkey.’

‘More ethical-’

‘Lily, Dad’s a soft target and you’ve still not convinced him,’ said James. ‘Give up.’

‘Aunt Hermione says-’

‘You’ve not convinced her, either.’

Albus entered the room, looking rather sheepish. Harry knew what he was going to say before he said it.

‘Do you mind if Scorpius and I take a few bits and go? We won’t take a lot, Mr Malfoy says he has loads left over and cheese and stuff.’

It would be their first Christmas dinner without Albus. Without any of their children. The thought of it quietly devastated Harry. He wanted to scream and shout - could Malfoy not wait another bloody hour? Could they not stay just a little longer? The food was ready now.

‘It’s just…’ continued Albus meekly, ‘Mr Malfoy… if he goes home now without us he’ll be on his own, now his parents have gone home…’

‘Have they definitely gone?’ asked Harry abruptly. ‘Because that was - you know our condition, we’re not sending you to spend time with Death Eaters.’

‘They’re definitely gone,’ said Albus. ‘You know, after what happened last year on the cliffs… they’ve not exactly come to terms with the gay thing, let alone me being that gay thing, so to speak.’

Harry sighed, continuing to carve the turkey. He felt Ginny’s hand on his back, she had come to stand beside him.

‘Are you sure you couldn’t both eat with us, Al?’ Ginny asked pleadingly. ‘The plan was for you both to eat with us and then spend the evening-’

‘I know, but…’

Harry understood. ‘We weren’t on time,’ he muttered bitterly.

Al looked guilty, and Harry deeply appreciated it as he said, ‘it’s no one’s fault. None of us - not even Mr Malfoy - are annoyed or anything, it’s just… I don’t like the thought of him being on his own…’

Harry looked at Ginny. She gave a wry smile. ‘Why don’t we ask Mr Malfoy if he wants to stay for dinner? Wouldn’t be at all frosty or awkward.’

‘James already made that joke,’ he said warmly. He looked back at Al. ‘He’d be completely alone if he went back now?’

‘Yeah,’ said Al. ‘And I don’t get the impression he had a great Christmas dinner with his own parents.’

Harry nodded, sought one last look of reassurance from Ginny, and said, ‘OK. Can’t really argue with that, especially when we’ve been so late.’

Al beamed at him; they had come such a long way, the pair of them. Harry was quite sure that just a year or two previously this would have caused an argument of huge proportions.

‘Let’s carry all this through,’ said Ginny, ‘the pair of you make up your plates and then take them to go.’

They did so, Malfoy standing to one side and watching as they piled their plates high.

‘Take another Yorkshire, Scorpius, go on,’ said Ginny. ‘Al, I can’t remember, do you like braised cabbage?’

‘No - I’ll have some of those carrots though.’

‘This turkey’s still pink in the middle,’ said James, then snickered as Harry checked it with sheer panic.

‘That’s not funny - it’s fine.’

‘Scorpius, white or dark meat?’ Ginny asked. ‘James has bagsied a leg, but the other one’s still-’

‘Oh, no, I’ll have some of the breast meat, thanks-’

‘Thank you,’ said a quiet voice to Harry. He turned. Malfoy was beside him, still unable to look him in the face, but clearly reluctantly speaking to him. ‘I’m sorry to intrude on your family Christmas and pull Albus away.’

‘Not at all,’ said Harry.

‘It’s a hard time of the year,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘For some people,’ he added, rather forcefully. ‘I - my apologies if it’s made things difficult for you-’

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Harry swiftly. He had no desire for a heart to heart with Draco Malfoy of all people. ‘My apologies for being so late with the Christmas lunch.’

The boys’ plates were now so high that it felt ludicrous, and Ginny had to concede defeat on plying them with more food. She waved her wand so that tin foil covered the plates as the boys held them, and gave another jab of her wand up to the ceiling. Harry heard the suitcases clunk clumsily down the stairs and wait by the front door.

‘If you didn’t pack properly like I asked, that’s your problem,’ she said, as she gave Albus a tight, squeezing hug and a kiss on the cheek.

‘We did!’ Albus assured her.

‘Remember we’re at Nana and Grandad’s tomorrow, probably going to stay overnight.’

‘OK, send them my love.’

She embraced Scorpius next. ‘Did you remember your present from me and Harry?’

‘Oh, nearly forgot! Dad, hold this-’ Scorpius shoved the plate into his father’s hands, and raced from the room.

‘You got him a present?’ Malfoy asked, his pointed face slightly softened with surprise.

‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘He’s very welcome.’

Scorpius returned with the selection of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products and chocolates Harry and Ginny had gifted him tucked under his arm, and took the plate back from his father. With a last few goodbyes, Harry watched them through the dining room window as they walked down his driveway, through the large wooden gate, and vanished on the deserted lane.

‘Come on, stop moping,’ said James. ‘Your food’s getting cold.’

Harry turned, and joined the rest of his family at the table, where they toasted, and then pulled their crackers. Harry donned his hat; a rather extravagant fascinator. Ginny passed him the gravy. ‘I wasn’t moping,’ Harry told James. ‘Just annoyed with myself for getting the timings wrong. Though I think if you lot had got out of bed and showered quicker that would have helped too.’

‘And if Al and Scorpius had come and helped with dinner prep instead of going for a walk,’ added Lily.

‘And if the planets had aligned and we’d won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw and all that,’ said Ginny airily. ‘No point in fussing.’ She reached out and grasped Harry’s hand. ‘It was the right thing to do. He’s not had an easy time of it.’

‘Still think we should have made him stay,’ said James. ‘Love an awkward guest. Let’s invite Dawlish next year.’

‘Yes, you made that clear,’ said Harry.

‘It’s our turn to go to The Burrow next year, along with the Granger-Weasleys,’ said Ginny. ‘Anyway, what’s Christmas without an awkward guest or unwelcome relative? God, the Christmases we went through with Muriel… or that cousin on my Dad’s side who went a bit funny and ended up becoming an accountant, we had a horrible Christmas with him.’

‘What?’ asked Lily, bewildered.

‘Have I never told you? Oh, he was ridiculous, such an odd man - Dad always said it was a potion accident, but your Uncle George and Fred always said it was more like potion abuse-’

Harry’s mind had wandered. For some reason, perhaps it was the brandy Malfoy had been drinking, he was thinking once more of that Christmas where Aunt Marge had swirled the glass, smacking her lips. ‘There you go, my little nephy-poo,’ she’d squealed at Dudley, as she’d handed over his present. Harry had watched, eyes round with awe, as Dudley unwrapped a toy robot. The box said that it really moved, walked around the room, even responded to commands.

Then, to Harry’s astonishment, Marge thrusted a gift at him, too. He looked up at her in disbelief, but she was already turning back to Dudley, who was throwing a tantrum because Uncle Vernon could not find AAA batteries for the robot. With numb fingers, he very gently unwrapped the present.

WINALOT, the box said, right at the top. A happy looking bulldog seemed to smile on the front. KEEPS YOUR DOG FIT, NOT FAT.

In hindsight, Harry could generously suppose she had got him something but that she was the type of woman to also get her dogs Christmas presents, and take the time to wrap them. Perhaps it had been a mistake. No doubt he had not meant to receive something along the lines of a toy robot, but perhaps she had intended to give him at least something as a gesture. It did not matter. At that age, after his seven years of experience with the Dursleys, he had said thank you in a small voice, and taken the dog biscuits to his cupboard, where he stayed for as much of the rest of the day as he could.

For Harry knew full well what it was like to be an unwelcome guest, an awkward relative, an unwanted presence at Christmas. He had not wanted that for Scorpius, but nor had he wanted it for Malfoy either, as much as he detested him. He knew too, what it was like to feel lonely at Christmas, to feel grief more strongly at a time where forced cheer was in the air, to feel ostracised by those around him. Perhaps it had been the world’s most awkward drink, but it had felt important to offer it.

Suddenly, having his son miss the latter half of the day didn’t feel as devastating.

‘Dad,’ said Lily suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Dad, try some of my nut roast.’

‘All right,’ said Harry, as James groaned dramatically.

‘Lily! Give! Up!’

‘Never!’ she cried. ‘After Christmas, I’m going to campaign the house elves at school-’

‘I’m going to tell Aunt Hermione you’re giving them more work,’ said James quickly.

As they bickered, Ginny leant closer to Harry. ‘We’re lucky, aren’t we?’ she murmured. ‘That we have so many people we want at Christmas dinner with us.’

He smiled at her. ‘Certainly are.’

#submission #ttb yule bash 2022 #harry potter #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #albus severus potter #scorpius malfoy #next gen #post-epilogue

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