Chapter 19 – Through the Grapevine

Harry smiles as he walks into the Great Hall with the Weasley twins. He sees he is the first of his friends to arrive, which is no surprise considering classes have only just ended. They sit in their usual place, ignoring the few students who glance and whisper as they see him. He is too used to this behaviour to let himself be bothered by it.

Despite spending the last hour snacking on whatever the House Elves placed before them, Fred and George waste no time loading their plate with food, while Harry decides to wait until Holly arrives before dishing up for himself.

Barely ten minutes pass before Holly walks in from the staff entrance with Dumbledore in tow. The elderly wizard smiles indulgently as she skips in front of him, patting her head affectionately before she runs down the aisle upon spotting Harry.

Though she is smiling, something is off in her demeanour as she approaches Harry. He notices the relief in her eyes as she plonks herself into the seat next to him and the almost desperate way she hugs him after greeting him.

Looking over her head, he sees Dumbledore watching over them. Catching his eyes, the Headmaster nods at Harry.

“Hungry?” he asks, his concern spiking as she clings to him, leaning into his side.

Seeing her behaviour, Fred and George do what they did best: joke.

“Oh, Harry,” Fred begins, “will you please make us a heroic plate of food?”

“Your food is the best, Hero Potter,” George takes over.

“If you can’t cook for us, then the next best thing is this pasta served by you,” Fred continues.

Looking at Harry, Holly agrees: “They’re not wrong.”

Harry shakes his head ruefully, deciding not to push Holly on whatever upset her. Introvert that she is, she won’t open up in front of the twins, no matter how friendly they act.

Harry serves Holly a plate of pasta first, then tops her glass with orange juice before doing the same for himself.

“Don’t forget to eat the broccoli as well,” he adds, unmoved by her face at being made to eat the vegetable.

He misses the smirk the twins exchange.

“Did Dumbledore make you do loads of work for missing your lessons yesterday?” Harry asks as he sips his juice.

“No. Uncle Albus talked to me about his favourite sweets and told me I could go to his office whenever I wanted to if I’m in the mood for sherbet lemons,” Holly tells him. “He has three different stashes in his office and told me where each was hidden.”

“Did you spend all morning talking about sweets?” Harry questions incredulously.

“Not all morning,” Holly concedes. “We did a little work. Uncle Albus is supposed to be teaching me Geography, and he told me about the different places he’s visited.”

Harry listens intently as she launches into a story Dumbledore told her about his time in France. To him, it sounds like Dumbledore was speaking more of French history than he was of Geography. Especially regarding food, it seems that Dumbledore was a big fan of French onion soup. 

Holly slowly emerges from her funk and chats a little more naturally as the rest of Harry’s friends join them. Luna follows a few minutes behind them and sits on Harry’s other side. Meanwhile, Harry continues to top up Holly’s plate when he sees she’s ready for her next serving and ensures she has enough to drink. He does all this without thinking, not even realising his friends are observing him.

He can tell Holly is still a little reserved with the whole group there but believes they will get along quite well once they get used to each other. He’s aware that more people are staring at them but manages to ignore everyone with practised ease.

“Do you have lessons this afternoon?” he asks once lunch draws close.

“I’m supposed to go back to the Potions classroom after lunch,” Holly answers carelessly, and Harry takes this to mean that she was supposed to go back to Snape, “but Uncle Albus said I don’t have to go back today, so I can go back to him instead. Or, Uncle Lucius said I could join him in his classroom and do my maths homework with him instead.”

He can feel the Weasley’s cooling enthusiasm though Harry knows they don’t hold it against Holly.

“Aunt Poppy said you don’t have to go back to classes until tomorrow? Did she change her mind?” Holly gives him an intent look. “Do you have to go back to classes today?”

“I don’t have to go back to classes until tomorrow,” Harry confirms.

“Can-Can I hang around with you?” she asks with a hesitance that concerns Harry.

“Of course,” Harry nods instantly.

“You’ll help me with my work?” she asks more enthusiastically.

“Of course,” he agrees once more.

“Seriously? You both have permission to bunk off your afternoon lessons, and you’re both going to spend it doing work?” Ron questions incredulously.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Hermione says defensively. “In fact, I think it’s a good idea for Harry to use the time productively to catch up with his missed classwork as well.”

“Harry’s not a shirker,” Holly defends Harry with a frown.

“No, of course,” Hermione says, giving Ron a pointed look, “not unlike some.”

Ron shrugs, “If I had a free afternoon, I’d be out flying.”

“Madam Pomfrey said no flying until tomorrow,” Harry explains. “And none of my monkey jumping I call gymnastics either.”

Holly giggles at Harry’s words.

“Then you have no excuse not to turn up to Gryffindor tryouts tomorrow,” Angelina says as she approaches the group. “And you two as well,” she adds sternly to the Weasley twins. “Try not to get detention - or land yourself in the Hospital Wing.”

“Yes, Angelina,” Harry and the twins chorus.

“Good,” she says with a definitive nod. “See you around.”

“Will you take me on your Firebolt?” Holly asks excitedly as Angelina walks away.

“Tomorrow,” he promises with a smile, and Holly giggles excitedly.

The bell rings, signalling the end of lunch and everyone but Harry and Holly make their way towards their afternoon classes.

“I just need to tell Uncle Albus I’ll be with you,” Holly says. She waits for Harry to nod in acknowledgement before excitedly heading towards the Head Table, leaving the boy to carry her school bag.

Unfortunately, he catches Lucius Malfoy’s eye while sedately following his sister. Looking away stoically, he sees Dumbledore nod at him just in time, and he nods back. Holly hugs Dumbledore first and then Malfoy before making her way back.

Holly reaches for Harry’s hand at the same time he reaches for hers. Hitching her school bag higher on his shoulder, he patiently leads Holly as she turns to wave and smile at the other teachers at the Head Table.

“Where do you want to go first?” he asks once they clear the Great Hall.

“Can we go outside?” she requests.

Harry leads her out as they head toward the Quidditch pitch via the Lake.

“Tell me how you’ve been? You’ve been okay, haven’t you?” Harry asks, a little anxiously.

Hand in hand, they continue to walk. He listens to her chatter, and whatever unease he has slowly melts away. He knows she has been miserable; between her letters smuggled via Regulus, and Regulus’s own assessments, Harry has managed to learn this much. Though she had been reticent about speaking about Snape directly, he knows her well enough to understand that this was due to her own mixed-up feelings rather than any loyalty to Snape. However, seeing her in front of him now, he feels assured enough to determine that they haven’t been hurting her. She’s sullen with Snape, but it’s not a sullenness that means he’s a horrible bully to her.

Even Draco Malfoy has tried to win Holly’s trust, from Regulus’s accounts. It makes him wonder why blood doesn’t seem to matter when it comes to the Snapes when it appears to matter everywhere else.

“Did anyone show you the Quidditch pitch?” he asks as they approach said pitch.          

“Not properly,” she shakes her head.

Harry gives her a quick tour, showing her the changing rooms for Gryffindor. Luckily, they’d been cleaned, so they didn’t have that stale, sweaty smell that usually permeates the facilities after a tough match.

“Fred and George say they all look the same, just with House colours,” he confides, though he hasn’t bothered invading the other House’s changing rooms.

Harry leads her to the stairs that go up to the spectator stands in the Gryffindor section. He waits until they’re seated before asking, “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

In response, she throws herself at him again, her arms coming around his torso as she buries her head in his chest.

He waits patiently until she is ready to talk. He knows when to push, and now is not the time. She can be so sullen that sometimes pushing her before she’s prepared to speak only makes her clam up even more. He is just grateful that she’s not crying. He hates seeing her cry. Harry hopes it’s not because she’s had another row with Snape.

Eventually, she turns her head, only half muffled when she begins, “I went back down to my room to get my bag after having breakfast with you, and I saw him going through my room.”

He forces himself to stay relaxed though he is angry on her behalf. Holly hated it when Jasmine used to ransack her room - often looking for spare cash, usually given by Oma as a gift, to spend on herself. Jasmine never cared what she destroyed in her search for what she wanted, and Holly quickly learned not to hide anything of value, whether that was financial or sentimental. She was barely over three at the time.

Harry kept some of those broken toys. Even though he hadn’t known he was a wizard at the time, he had attempted to fix them. Harry had repaired them magically only after getting his wand and learning a few spells under Oma’s strict supervision.

Seeing Holly’s beautiful smile and Oma’s proud one had been worth the effort.

“Did he break anything?”

“I don’t know,” she admits sullenly. “I just yelled at him, put everything on the bed into my bag and left.”

“Shall we go up to Gryffindor tower and look at what needs to be fixed?” Harry suggests.

She nods against his chest.

“Come on,” he smiles.

As he stands up and finally looks at the field, he freezes, and his mind returns to the fateful day of the Third Task. Paralysed in his memories, his grip unconsciously tightens around Holly’s hand as his heart beats faster and a roaring sound fills his ears. He focuses on the spot where the labyrinths were, where the portkey dumped him when he returned with Cedric Diggory’s body - and he still seems to hear Amos’s desperate cries, the smell of death one step away.

“Harry?”

Holly’s concerned tone penetrates the haze, and he wrenches his gazes away from the pitch.

“Later,” he promises, throat dry.

They exit the pitch together, Harry making sure not to look at it again.

Together, they walk back towards the castle, taking a slight detour. In an effort to distract them both, Holly confesses that Dumbledore had already given her a map of the school and the teachers a tour of the castle, including a visit to all four Common rooms. Harry assures her he’s not disappointed he couldn’t do that himself as they’d always planned. And truthfully, he isn’t. Even with a map, Holly confesses she got lost several times, and to Harry, the wonderful thing about the castle is getting lost while navigating and exploring the place on his own.

Thankfully, the Common Room is empty as they enter, given the time of day. Everyone is in classes. Harry has no issue giving Holly the password, which didn’t matter anyway, as Holly had been given the override password teachers use to get in and out. Harry makes Holly promise not ever to tell Fred and George that tidbit.

Even with their rule-breaking and help from the Marauders Map, they have never been able to break into the other Common rooms, often resorting to bribery of some sort to get pranks set up within the other Houses.

Leading Holly up to his dorm is perfect. She immediately throws herself on his bed and begins jumping up and down on it, giggling the whole while.

Her earlier moodiness is gone, which makes Harry happy, so he lets her jump her heart out. Eventually, she calms down and sits with her back to the headboard, invitingly patting the space next to her. Harry joins her, depositing her bag in front of them and carefully emptying it to see what needs repairing.

“Uncle Luc said I can stay with him tonight,” she confesses as she watches Harry anxiously.

Harry freezes momentarily, and Holly stresses when he doesn’t say anything: “I don’t want to go back to his room.”

“You can’t avoid him forever,” he points out as he meticulously examines everything he’s laid out from Holly’s bag.

“I can try,” she mutters sullenly, throwing herself against the backboard once more, crossing her arms defiantly.

His lips twitch in amusement.

“Uncle Luc said we’d have a late dinner,” Holly continues, watching Harry examine her things.

He nods, a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to have dinner with Holly tonight. He decides to skip dinner to spend more time with Holly and grab something from the kitchen later. At this rate, he’d spend more time in the kitchen than in the Great Hall. As long as he isn’t bothering the House Elves, they don’t mind. Plus, he’d spend more time with Dobby, who is always happy to see Harry. At the thought of Dobby, he flicks a look at Holly.

She knows about the loyal house-elf, though they have not been introduced. Harry spent many of his early years complaining about Draco Malfoy (and Snape, incidentally), but he found any letters pertaining to Lucius missing. What little information he’s provided of Lucius was in Oma’s package to Harry, separated from those that Holly was allowed to keep.

Holly got the bulk of the letters he’d sent over the years for herself, but Oma deliberately removed anything that mentioned Lucius Malfoy. He wonders if that’s because Eileen was grateful that Lucius had treated Snape like a brother and that she didn’t want Holly to be influenced in that manner. Any mentions of Lucius were few and far between.

He knows he should be rightfully angry with Oma for all her lies. He is with the Dursleys, who spent his life lying about who he was and about his parents. For all her love and care, Oma effectively did the same - lied about knowing who he was and his parents as well. Slanting a guilty look at his sister, he realises he’s done much the same.

However, after much soul searching, Harry decided to let that anger go in his third year when he discovered that Snape was Holly’s father. He did so only because Holly was in the same boat as him, who had even more right to know about her own family. After exchanging letters with Regulus in his third year, Harry realised how entwined his and Holly’s lives were.

Snape had been Lily’s best friend until an unfortunate incident tore them apart. Harry doesn’t know if Snape still has any feelings of affection towards his childhood friend, though he certainly hasn’t hesitated from voicing his opinions on Harry’s father. Regulus himself has been hesitant to speak about Snape and Lily beyond how close they used to be before their fifth year and how far apart they drifted during their last two years. Oma’s letter certainly sheds some light on that relationship, and Harry often wonders what his life might have been if Eileen hadn’t interfered in Lily and Snape’s friendship. Would Harry have been a Snape instead of a Potter? Would Holly have been his sister for real?

Harry shakes that thought from his head. Holly is his real sister - not by blood but by choice. That biologically they have nothing in common is unimportant. And it didn’t matter to Harry whether Oma called herself Eileen or Iris- she was still Oma to Harry. Despite the secrets she kept, she did it out of self-preservation, and that was something Harry couldn’t fault her for, having grown up with the Dursleys. Unlike Vernon and Petunia’s lies, which were spoken out of malice, Oma shared whatever she could. Also, unlike the Dursleys, she ensured Harry had the skills to survive as an adult rather than die in the gutter as Petunia and Vernon told Harry his parents had. The way they wanted Harry to.

Harry would ensure he uses his skills to protect himself and Holly, regardless of the prophecy hanging over his head.

“It looks like he’s not damaged anything,” Harry eventually says after careful examination.

Holly’s shoulders relax even more.

“He was looking at my photo album,” she comments apathetically, jerking her head in the direction of said album.

They carefully pack away the rest of Holly’s things, apart from her homework and the album. Regulus already told Harry about warding the album from Snape so as not to let him see the pictures of Oma, not unless either Holly or Harry shared the album voluntarily. Snape deserves to know about his mother, and Oma did leave Harry a package to pass to the Potions Master, but only to do so when Harry felt the man was ready for it. She even left it to Harry to decide whether Snape deserved it or not. Harry has every intention of passing the whole thing to Snape, but his first priority is getting Holly in a better relationship with her father. Not just for Holly and Snape but especially for Oma - a tribute to her memory.

Harry leans back against the backboard with Holly as they idly flip through the photo album to reminisce. He subtly encourages Holly to talk about her time at Malfoy Manor, not out of nosiness, to establish they have been caring for his sister.

He listens fondly as Holly talks about various incidents at the Manor, mainly about each of the Malfoys, even though he already knows some of the stories from the letters they exchanged via Regulus. He can hear how much Holly has come to care for Lucius and Narcissa, and, as a consequence, Harry’s feelings are conflicted. Narcissa is unknown to him, except for what Regulus has told him, while Lucius is a slimeball, as far as Harry is concerned, from his treatment of Dobby to what he put Ginny and the other Weasleys through. Oma had mentioned that Lucius was highly dedicated to Snape, but Harry decides to reserve judgement for the time being. As long as they were looking after Holly, that is.

He is still surprised at Holly’s affection for Tobias, who lives in Spinner’s End. Harry doesn’t know much about him other than that he was an abusive husband and father.

“He’s not being nasty to you, is he?” Harry asks in concern.

“He can be thoughtless at some things. He said he has a lot to regret and had a lot of time to think about everything,” Holly confesses. “I don’t know if I like him, but I think he’s lonely. Just like Oma. Oma was lonely, sometimes…”

Harry smiles faintly at Holly’s observation. The little girl is more shrewd than others give her credit for.

“Grandad said no one writes to him,” she continues. “He only visits once a year during summer.”

Harry nods absently, wondering if he should begin to try to repair Holly’s relationship with Snape now. Looking at her, he decides not to ruin their reunion with an argument he knows is coming if he tries to speak up for Snape. Holly’s not in the frame of mind, especially with the latest invasion of privacy.

Instead, he moves on to other topics, distracting her with something he knows will make her happy.

“Let me show you my new travel trunk,” Harry smiles, grabbing her hand and tugging her from the bed.

She follows enthusiastically, a great big grin splitting her face. He shows off his new trunk, explaining all the features and making her follow his instructions, so she is now keyed into it for access whenever she wants. He trusts her with his possessions, knowing that Holly has never been the kind of person to take advantage. She is suitably impressed by the different compartments, but what takes her away is when he presents her with his old trunk, now filled with everything important to her and that Mrs Figg and Dudley managed to retrieve from her home in Surrey.

“Is that really all my stuff?” she asks tearfully.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms with a wide smile. “Mrs Figg packed up some stuff from your room, and Dudley helped pack up all your gymnastics stuff; that’s all here, including some of your outfits. You didn’t think we’d let you go without your things, did you?”

Harry grunts as she throws her arms once more around her his waist. He’s sure he’ll have a bruise the size of Holly’s forehead across his abdomen.

They spend the next half hour going through her things as Holly repacks some of her more important equipment at the top. Although the school bag he bought her many years ago has an extension charm, Holly packed a few essential things like her letters from Harry, her album, anything she gave sentimental value to, and a few clothes. Everything else she’d decided to leave behind in the care of Mrs Figg, who assured her she would look after it.

Snape and the Malfoys had bought her all new clothes and toys, plus whatever they bought her on their outing to Muggle Manchester. Holly never asks for much, and Harry had given Regulus a list of things he thought she would need to continue being active, which could be duplicated for the Weasleys and any other Order members interested in muggle fitness.

Bill, Regulus, Sirius, Kingsley and Tonks were among the regulars who used the fitness dungeon that Harry helped set up last time he was at Grimmauld Place a few days ago.

Eventually, they manage to do their homework. Grabbing Ron’s desk chair, Harry positions himself beside Holly as she takes his chair. Her homework is straightforward, so they focus on hers first. Having done an outline earlier in the morning whilst in the Hospital Wing and working on them while in the kitchens with Fred and George, Harry surprises himself by completing his own assignments in record time. Due to all the books given to him by Oma, Harry does not even need to go to the library. Even though she spent most of her time in the muggle world, Eileen had still kept up to date with wizarding books. The Potions section is the most developed, but Harry has also found some books that have been published in more recent years.

He knows that he won’t have free time for long, however. As he missed all of today’s classes, he realises Hermione will pile on more homework, so his free evening is not, in fact, free. Still, he is better off getting his new assignments completed today. Tomorrow, his time will be limited by attending Quidditch tryouts and whatever new assignments the teachers will pile on. He’s heard from various older students that OWLs year is the worst for homework, so Harry needs to make sure he keeps on top of all his work, especially if he wants to spend significant time with Holly.

The bell signalling the end of the last class rings, and Harry neatly piles his books onto his desk and helps Holly pack away her things that are still sprawled over his bed.

“You can leave your bag here if you want,” Harry offers, and she quickly agrees, and they carefully stash it in Harry’s old trunk, ready to collect for when she has to go to Malfoy’s quarters.

They hear murmurs drift from the Common Room as students return from classes.

“HP,” she reads the initials with satisfaction. “It’s like the trunk was made for me.”

Harry gives her a droll look; it’s not the first time she’s tried to claim his trunk for herself. 

“What’s this?” Ron asks as their other roommates stand in the doorway.

“Harry’s given me his old trunk,” Holly exclaims proudly, smiling widely as she plops down on the trunk Harry’s just closed the lid to.

“He has?” Ron asks, moving further into the room, having been poked in the back by Seamus, to prod him forward.

“Of course,” Harry says with a nod.

“HP,” Holly repeats. “is for Holly Pierce. I just let Harry borrow my trunk until I start Hogwarts. Well, I’m here now, so I’m claiming my trunk back.”

“It was my trunk, but I’m kindly donating it to you, you little beggar,” Harry corrects with a rueful shake of his head.

Holly shrugs as if the details are of little consequence.

“It won’t be long before you have to give me your wand, too,” she smirks at him.

“Your wand?” Ron asks, startled, finally moving to dump his school bag on his bed.

“Hi, Holly,” Neville greets as he, too, moves to place his bag on top of his trunk.

 “Hi, Neville. Hi, Dean,” she returns as Dean winks at her.

Ron keeps looking around with a lost look while Harry clarifies: “It’s my wand, brat,” he tells her, throwing himself back on his bed.

“It’s a holly wand,” she emphasises. “Is your name Holly?”

Harry just rolls his eyes at her. He hopes that she will find a holly wand when it is her turn to get a wand.

“What’s Harry supposed to use?” Ron asks, tone becoming mildly belligerent.

Turning to Harry to answer, she says, “You have my permission to use my holly wand until I officially start Hogwarts. But then you have to get a new one.”

“How generous of you,” Harry comments dryly.

“I know,” she acknowledges simply.

Harry and Holly give each other quiet looks before she bursts into giggles, which turn into shrieks of laughter when he raises himself from his bed and descends on her to tickle the life out of her. 

“No,” she shrieks breathlessly. “No, don’t.”

“Brat,” he snarks mockingly. “Taking all my things. Whose wand is it?”

“Mine, mine, mine,” she sings defiantly as she attempts to, fruitlessly, evade him.

“What’s going on here?” Hermione’s voice sounds from the dorm entrance. “What’s taking so long?”

 Harry abruptly stops tickling Holly, unaware of the wide grin on his face and how the others are looking at him and his sister with incredulity. Holly’s giggles taper away as she tries to get her breath back.

“Still mine,” she says cheekily, rolling away from Harry.

“Keep wishing,” he replies mockingly, edging off the bed and straightening his clothes.

“We still have time before dinner. Want a game of chess?” Ron proposes a little awkwardly.

“Ron,” Hermione admonishes him before Harry can say anything, “Harry has loads of homework to catch up on. And we have loads more from today as well. This is OWL year; we can’t afford to fall behind on our homework.”

“OWLs are ages away,” the redhead complains, even as the others exchange looks at the usual argument between the two.

Harry can see Seamus and Dean exchange eye rolls and head downstairs. Neville, rooting through his bag for a Herbology book, follows them. Harry and Holly surreptitiously shadow them, leaving Hermione and Ron to trail after.

“Really, Harry, you should have brought your homework so we can work on it together,” Hermione rebukes.

“I’m all caught up on my homework,” he replies. “I started it in the Hospital Wing and finished it while Holly worked on hers.”

“Oh, right,” Hermione says, nonplussed. “All of it?”

“I just need today’s assignments, but I’ll do those after dinner,” Harry continues.

“I’m going to do mine now,” Hermione insists. “You should do yours as well.”

Dean and Seamus have already slunk off to their usual spot, and Neville makes himself comfortable in an armchair near the fire. Unlike Ron, Harry usually prefers to complete his homework on time, though not as eagerly as Hermione. On the other hand, Ron likes to procrastinate until the last minute, whereby he then scrambles to complete it on time, usually with Hermione giving him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Holly and I are taking a break from work,” Harry says firmly. “Right?”

“Right,” Holly agrees with a huge smile. “Then I have to have dinner with Uncle Luc and Draco.”

Ron’s smile, which was wide at the idea of delaying his homework, fades at hearing Malfoy’s name.

“Are you going to that as well?” Ron asks sullenly, his ears turning red.

“No,” Harry says calmly. “The dinner’s not until later, so Holly and I are going to hang out for a bit. I’ll grab something from the kitchens after I’ve dropped her off and come back here.”

“Right,” Ron mumbles, not looking at either of them.

“Well, I’m going to start my homework,” Hermione announces steadfastly, dropping her school bag with a dull thud.

Harry’s sure Hermione carries all her books around all the time, “just in case.” If Hermione hadn’t been so afraid of height, Harry would suggest she try out for Beater or Chaser; she must have mad upper body strength lugging those books around.

“Come on, Holly,” Harry says, throwing an arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulling her after him. “Let’s pick a game.”

“Ooh, ooh, can we play chess?”

“Yeah, sure. There’s a set here,” Harry says, looking through the shelves with old games donated by upper years.

Perking up, Ron asks, “You play chess?” At Holly’s enthusiastic nod, he queries: “How about a game against me?”

“Okay,” Holly says agreeably.

Ron gets up from his armchair and races back to the dorms before Hermione can protest.

 Harry clarifies at Holly’s questioning look: “Ron likes to use his own set.”

Harry has his own set that Oma gifted him, but his friend is particularly attached to his own, whereas Harry uses whatever is available. Most likely because it doesn’t matter which set Harry uses, Ron will always beat him.

“And avoid doing his homework,” Hermione mutters from her seat.

Before dinner, the next hour is spent semi-companionably with Hermione working on her assignments, shooting disapproving looks between Harry, Ron, and Holly. Neville silently reads through his book. Harry watches contently as Holly plays chess against Ron, managing to last longer than Harry but still losing. To his credit, Ron takes Holly seriously as an opponent, not giving any consideration to her age. Holly good-naturedly takes her losses, and they play three chess games before moving on to Exploding Snap. Then Holly makes Harry run up to his dorm to grab his Gobstone set, as she wants to play that next.

“We can have a late dinner together,” Ron says when Hermione begins packing her books and assignments away to prepare for dinner.

“What are you planning to do?” Neville asks.

Dinner is usually ninety minutes, so Harry and Holly have plenty of time to kill.

“It’s up to you,” Harry shrugs at Ron’s offer. Then, in answer to Neville’s question, he says, “We’ll probably walk around the castle for a bit. I’ll show Holly the room Professor McGonagall gave us for gymnastics.”

Hermione frowns at him. “I thought you weren’t allowed to do any gymnastics until tomorrow.”         

 Harry feels a twinge of annoyance at her words that he pushes away and replies dryly, “I can still show her the room.”

“Right,” Ron nods awkwardly.

“If you’re going off to the Gym now, Harry, do you mind if I tag along?” Dean asks interestedly.

“I have no problem with that,” Harry says but looks at Holly questioningly.

 Holly nods her agreement with a huge smile and jumps up from the cushion she’s been sitting on.

 “Now? Can we go now?” she asks eagerly.

 “Yes, now,” Harry smiles at her enthusiasm.

ooOoo

Albus replaces his quill with a sigh of relief when he hears his Floo flare up. He stretches his back with a silent groan and then stands up from his chair as Poppy steps through.

“Ready, Poppy?”

“Beyond ready, Albus,” Poppy replies, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “Regulus?”

“He is most likely already waiting for us at Arabella’s,” he informs his medi-witch. “Who is covering the Wing today?”

“Pomona and Aurora were quite happy to cover,” Poppy says.

Albus nods. He’s been requesting an additional medi-witch for over a decade, but the Board of Governors always cite budget reasons for denying him. They underestimate the amount of work Poppy has to complete in addition to looking after her patients. They are, indeed, lucky that Severus never begrudges assisting with his Potion-making skills. His aid helps Poppy brew her potions and keeps her Hospital wing stocked efficiently and with quality stock.

Albus reaches for one of the contraptions he has charmed to monitor the wards around Privet Drive. He knew that Harry would be in for difficult days under the Dursleys household, but that never stopped him from hoping Petunia would do right by her sister and, therefore, Harry.

It saddened him to see the light dimming from his device over the years instead of remaining the intense green it should have. He’d experienced a brief surge of optimism sometime between Harry’s first and second year when the light strengthened by just a shade and, to his satisfaction, never wavered. He had hoped Petunia had learned to put aside her bitterness and accept young Harry after his first year. It was only a few months ago that Albus realised the wards had strengthened on the basis of Dudley’s change of feelings towards his cousin rather than Petunia’s.

Arabella had been telling him for years that Harry wasn’t treated as he should by the Dursleys, but without definitive proof, Albus could not collapse the wards. Harry never told Arabella the full details, and he refused to fully trust Poppy either. But he’d trusted Regulus, and Regulus still expects Albus to remove Harry from the Dursleys - a feat for which Poppy is exceedingly happy, to ensure Harry doesn’t return to where he suffered what no child should suffer through.

Whatever Regulus did to earn Harry’s trust has forever indebted the medi-witch to the youngest Black scion. And Regulus has promised Albus that he will never let Harry down like many others.

“Let’s Floo to the Three Broomsticks, and we shall apparate from there,” Albus instructs Poppy, who nods her understanding and turns back to the fireplace. Albus takes the time to send a Patronus to Minerva to let her know he will be out of the castle for a few hours. He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, fortifying himself for the confrontation to come.

ooOoo

Twin cracks of apparition signal the arrival of those Arabella and Regulus have been waiting for.

“Is that them?” Dudley asks, looking up from his cup of tea.

Regulus has been visiting Arabella on and off for a few weeks since he met with Albus at Stonehenge. During one of those meetings, he was introduced to Harry’s cousin Dudley. The other boy is tall, broad-shouldered and still carrying a lot of fat.

Regulus has come to like the young lad in his own right, though Harry (and Holly) have regaled him about the boy’s proclivity to bully those he considered weak during his earlier years. Harry told him Dudley thinks Harry got rid of the pig’s tail Hagrid gave him. Harry thinks Hagrid’s magic wasn’t strong enough to keep up the enchantment. Sound reasoning considering Hagrid hadn’t even completed three years of school before being expelled.

Arabella told him that it was Eileen who had ended that spell. That action had simultaneously culminated in one of the worst beatings Harry had endured and a slow change in Dudley’s perception of his cousin.

“I would say so,” Arabella answers Dudley’s question as she opens her front door, just as Albus raises his hand to knock.

“Albus, Poppy,” she greets them, opening the door wider and ushering the pair inside.

“Evening, Arabella,” Pomfrey smiles tersely. “And who might you be?”

Dudley straightens his spine at the scrutiny the medi-witch puts him under.

“I’m Dudley Dursely, miss,” Dudley stammers, standing up from his chair and reaching out a hand to Pomfrey. “I’m Harry’s cousin.”

Pomfrey gives Dudley a perfunctory shake of the hand and goes back to assessing him.

“You and Harry were raised together?” she asks imperiously.

“Yeah,” he answers, before correcting himself, “I mean, yes. We grew up in the same House.”

“And why is it that he looks like he’s barely fed, and you – ” Pomfrey doesn’t finish her sentence, but the scrutinising gaze is worth a thousand words.

Arabella jumps in defensively, “He’s just a boy. He wasn’t taught any better by the shrew.”

She throws Dudley an apologetic look at the slight against his mother, but he ignores it, flushing at Pomfrey’s words.

“I used to be one of those who picked on Harry,” Dudley confesses candidly. “I knew he was hungry, but I never let him eat. Even when I was full, I’d eat myself sick, and Harry was lucky if he fed scraps sometimes. Mum and Dad encouraged it, even. They used to reward me for that and for hurting him. ” He looks away shamefully at first before defiantly turning back to Pomfrey. “But I’m not like that anymore. I try to look out for him. Try to stop them from hurting him.”

“Are you afraid they will turn their ire on you if pushed too far?” Pomfrey asks stiffly.

“I don’t know,” Dudley answers honestly. “I can handle myself, though. You just need to make sure Harry’s safe. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To make sure my parents don’t hurt Harry again? He won’t be coming back to them, will he?”

Dudley’s hopeful face flits between them all.

“I promise you, Dudley,” Regulus speaks up for the first time, “Harry won’t be hurt anymore.”

“Shall we head off?” Albus suggests, looking weary.

Regulus imagines that on top of the second Fidelius Albus performed only yesterday, which must have been draining, considering mere months had passed since he’d completed the first one, and dealing with the mess made by Severus and feeling burdened by the guilt of Harry’s situation, the ageing Headmaster must feel like crawling under the foundations of Hogwarts and hibernating for the next century.

“Let’s,” Pomfrey says in a dark tone that sends shivers down Regulus’s spine.

ooOoo

Lucius is definitely not brooding as he sits at his dining table. He doesn’t know how he’s managed to get through his afternoon classes without snapping at every student, but it’s been a long time since he’s perfected the mask. He’s not the kind of person who lets outsiders see his hurts.

He pushed his feelings aside, snapped on a front to conceal his anger and pain at Severus’s words, stood in front of students to teach them what they needed to be taught, and slunk off to his quarters after classes ended to … well, it’s not to brood. Lucius isn’t a brooder. He’s a planner. He’s a man of action. He does not dwell.

Especially on Severus’s careless and thoughtless words.

It’s not the first time Lucius and Severus have argued. Not by a long shot. Severus has flung many careless and thoughtless words in the past. They’ve even come to the point of exchanging hexes.

Yet… it’s the first time Severus has thrown those words at Lucius.          

“Potter is no more a brother to Holly than you are to me.”

How those words stung. They still do - a wound of the soul that struggles to heal.

Severus just lashed out at the nearest person in his anger, as he always does, but knowing that it was an impulsive instinct of rage does not make it any less painful. The ignorant, inconsiderate, ill-mannered …

A knock on the door brings Lucius out of his musings - because he’s not brooding. However, before he can do more than place his mask on and leave his chair, the door opens, and Draco walks in without permission.

It doesn’t matter that Lucius is expecting his son’s attendance; however, he still expects Draco to use his manners and wait for permission to enter.

“Father, is she here yet?” he says in place of a greeting.

 “Come in, Draco,” Lucius says dryly. “Make yourself at home.”

Draco, despite his occasional dim-wittedness - which Lucius firmly believes is from Narcissa’s side of the family (not that he’ll ever say those words to his wife) - picks up on his father’s tone and indignantly protests, “You said to come directly after dinner.”

Lucius sighs. “Take a seat, Draco”

“Well?” his son asks impatiently, looking around as if waiting for Holly to pop out from nowhere.

Lucius gives him a quelling, telling him, “You’re early. She’ll be along shortly. Have you done your homework?”

“I’ve started it,” he mumbles, not looking at his father as he dumps his bag on an extra chair and throws himself into another. At Lucius’s pointed look, Draco digs into his bag and extracts his books and stationery.

 As there has not been a consistent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher since even Lucius’s own school days, it is the only subject that has no summer assignments. In this, Lucius is lucky for this week only, as he does not have to worry about marking said summer homework as other teachers do.

Though, he imagines that will quickly change the following week. So far, all his classes have had homework assigned.

Draco, somewhat resentful, begins his homework. They still have a little less than half an hour before Holly is due to arrive, so Lucius first summons a House Elf to confirm their dinner order and then settles in to watch Draco work on his assignments.

Draco’s mind is clearly not on his work, as his eyes continuously dart between the clock on the further wall and the door, impatiently waiting for Holly to arrive.

Lucius doesn’t know what magic father and daughter have wrought on the Malfoys, for they have both captured his heart, even though Severus does have a tendency to trample all over Lucius’s when he needs someone to take his anger out on. Like he’s some sort of duelling dummy, Lucius thinks resentfully. It would serve the ignoramus right if Lucius turfed him out of Malfoy Manor and forced him to find his own home.

Clod! Imbecile! Cretin!

Lucius thinks of all manner of insults as he stares unseeingly at the Transfiguration text he’s borrowed from his son. He doesn’t even tell Draco off when the boy taps irritatingly with the nib of his quill onto his Charms text. Draco is so eager to see Holly and speak to her that Lucius hopes Holly gives him a chance. It would be wretched if Holly broke Draco’s heart as her father had Lucius’s, even though it was his own doing that he drew Holly’s wrath upon himself. Narcissa and Lucius had warned Draco repeatedly over the summer that he needed to watch his words, especially around Holly. She, though no less prickly than her father, at least blamed the other person for actual slights rather than perceived one like Severus.

A knock intrudes on Lucius’s thoughts for a second time, and again he has no more time to school his features before Draco, who has already bounded out of his seat and yanked the door open.

“Holly,” he begins in an enthusiastic voice without even fully opening the door. Lucius, already on his feet and a few steps behind Draco, sees his son’s back stiffen, and he can guess the reason without even hearing the following words, “Potter. What are you doing here?”

“Draco,” Lucius warns quietly from behind Draco. “Go pack up your things from the table.”

Draco glowers at Potter before attempting to straighten his features and looks down at Holly, who stands calmly next to him, holding his hand tightly.

In a slightly less abrupt tone, he says, “Come in. I’m starving.”

“In a second,” Holly says dismissively, then turns to Potter, completely ignoring Draco.

Lucius gently pushes Draco towards the table, trying to avoid a row between the trio. Unlike Severus and Draco, he understands that Holly’s first loyalty is to Potter before anyone else. If Potter decides that Holly should follow him back to Gryffindor tower, then the young girl wouldn’t hesitate to leave with her brother.

Draco reluctantly trudges back to the dining table.

Potter watches as Draco moves away until Lucius blocks the way by shifting his body. The boy’s green gaze snaps back to Lucius; his expression is no less affable than when looking at Draco. Potter scrutinises Lucius closely, and the patriarch allows it.

“Bad day?” Potter asks quizzically, his eyes taking Lucius in fully.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” he replies in the same dismissive tone as Holly.

Potter kneels down to Holly’s level, pulling her close, and whispering something in her ear. She eagerly wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him with a huge smile. The sight unknowingly brings a small smile to Lucius’s face.

“Don’t forget, they’re not for until after dinner,” Potter instructs the young girl, inexplicably tapping her school bag.

“Yes, Harry,” she says dutifully, all teeth.

“Go,” the boy smiles back. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

With a last hug and a kiss, Holly unwinds herself from Potter and darts past Lucius.

“Can I speak to you, Professor?” the boy asks neutrally, watching Holly disappear inside.

Lucius nods. Potter takes several steps back to allow the blond to step forward, closing the door behind him. As much as he hoped to speak to Potter, a conversation he feels is long overdue, he also hopes whatever he is going to say will be quick. He’s a little worried about leaving Holly and Draco alone, feeling the need to supervise their reunion.

Potter doesn’t waste time, taking Lucius by surprise with the topic of conversation.

“Holly told me what Snape did,” he begins with a firm voice. “About going through her stuff.”

Lucius unknowingly tilts his chin up, ready to defend his idiot brother, no matter their current contention.

“I know you must have done the same to see those photos of Holly and … Iris,” Potter continues, using Eileen’s fake name, although there was no one else in the corridor to hear.

Lucius expects to be told off but surprising him for a third time in as many minutes, Potter brushes over that topic.

“Jasmine never took money from Iris directly,” the boy tells him. “Iris offered it to her often enough. But when Jasmine got really desperate, she used to go into Holly’s room and look for stuff to sell. I don’t know what she expected to find in a toddler’s bedroom worth selling, but she’d destroy her daughter’s stuff out of frustration.”

Lucius nods, understanding Potter’s meaning. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that upset Holly - it was the memories of seeing her belongings strewn about meaninglessly.

“I shall pass on the importance of that, Mr Potter,” Lucius says quietly. “If you are free tomorrow, I would like to know more about …”

“I shall pass on the importance of that, Mr Potter,” Lucius says quietly. “If you are free tomorrow, I would like to know more about …”

 His voice trails off, but Potter seems to understand what Lucius leaves unsaid.

 Potter studies him closely, before nodding slowly.

“All right,” Potter agrees after a moment of silence. “Tomorrow, then.” 

 “Tomorrow, Mr Potter,” Lucius confirms.

 Potter nods once again . He then gestures to a trunk leaning against the wall near his door.

 “Holly’s things from … home,” Potter tells him.

Lucius barely nods his acknowledgement to the boy, who then strolls away as the blond watches him. He waits until Potter turns the corner before reaching for the trunk, already lightened and entering his quarters, pleasantly surprised at the quiet.

“Where’s Holly?” he asks, which is why it is silent. He places the trunk down near the sofa.

“She went to use the bathroom and wanted to leave her bag in the spare room,” Draco informs him, not looking in Lucius’s direction. “Why is she using the spare room?”

Lucius is reminded that Draco doesn’t know the drama that occurred today, lucky sod.   

“No reason that concerns you, son,” Lucius answers.

“I better Potter knows,” Draco hisses snidely.

Lucius inhales a deep, aggravated breath and lets it go slowly.

Instead, he asks: “Have you washed up for dinner?”

Draco huffs and stalks his way to the bathroom. Holly skips in barely seconds later, clearly having recovered from her morning upset and had a better day than Lucius, carrying a little tub.

Still, he’s happy that she’s cheered up, and a sincere smile makes its way to his face.

“Did you have a good day, my darling?”

Her smile widens as she nods enthusiastically.

“What’s in the tub?” he questions curiously.

Holly pries off the lid, and Lucius is hit with the beautiful scent of something freshly baked.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” she announces, showing them off.

Lucius reaches into the tub to sample one, unable to resist the inviting scent of vanilla, but Holly smacks his questing fingers with the lid.

“They’re for after dinner,” she admonishes him.

Lucius sighs and leans back, feeling chastised. Holly closes the lid back and moves the tub further away from him.

The kitchen Elf appears back, bows and asks, “Is you be ready for dinner, Professor sir?”

“Yes. Bring it out, Elf,” Lucius commands, missing the narrowed eyes of Holly.

The House Elf nods and pops away, and the food appears just as Draco returns to his seat.

Lucius reaches for the jug of pumpkin juice and fills up everyone’s glasses. The silence is tense, to begin with. Draco shoots furtive glances toward Holly, who is content to ignore the boy. Draco serves himself as Lucius spoons the mushroom risotto onto Holly’s plate.

At Lucius’ pointed look, unseen by Draco, Holly heaves her a silent sigh, rolls her eyes (thankfully also unseen by Draco), and asks, “So, Draco, how was your day today?”

Draco perks up at being addressed.

“It was okay,” he begins in an attempt to be nonchalant. “Mostly, it was just classes. It’s OWL year this year, so there’s a lot of homework and review to do. Not that I’m worried. I did a lot of review over the summer.”

Having dished up some risotto for himself, Lucius leans back and gets on with eating his own meal.

“I’ve not had a class with Father yet, but it’ll be a breeze,” Draco adds importantly. “Father already told me what areas to learn.”   

 Holly nods, looking up occasionally from her food to show she’s listening but doesn’t say anything more. She just allows Draco to talk.

“My friends are looking forward to seeing you. They keep asking about you,” Draco ventures cautiously.

“That’s nice. They were okay,” Holly adds offhandedly as if it doesn’t matter to her one way or another. However, Draco is pleased.

“Blaise and Theo really wanted to see if they could borrow your Roald Dahl books,” Draco adds carefully. “I thought – maybe – I thought I could borrow one as well.”

Holly gives Draco the most candid look since they’ve sat down together.

“Even if it’s been written by a washed-up mudblood?” Holly asks savagely, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth, showing she hasn’t forgiven or forgotten his words.

Lucius stops himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. Holly channels Severus at all the wrong moments. An unsightly tinge of red colours Draco’s cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Draco says apologetically. “I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

A tense moment passes as Holly scrutinises Draco, who fidgets under her stare.

“Apology accepted,” she declares into the lengthening silence.

Lucius is surprised by the way his own shoulders relax. He allows a small smile to play about his lips. Perhaps this evening will turn out better than his morning after all.

Draco, too, smiles more widely than Lucius, looking pleased.

“How have your classes been?” Draco asks after they all turn back to their food.

Answering that question is more complicated than Lucius thinks it should be, primarily because of how few classes he’s actually managed to teach in the last two days. The previous day, he only taught two classes before lunch until disaster struck in the form of Severus Snape: as a result, all afternoon classes had been suspended for Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. It’s a fraught topic that Lucius doesn’t even want to touch on. However, he’s stunned to realise he’s actually enjoyed himself in the few classes he has taken. Of course, it’s still early days yet. He still has the rest of the school year to get through.

“They’ve been well, for the most part,” Lucius answers. “I shall probably have more free time this week than any other, as I will have no summer homework to mark. That means I can help you catch up on the last two days’ worth of work, little madam.”

Holly wrinkles her cute little nose mischievously as Lucius brandishes his fork playfully in her direction.

“I could help,” Draco offers. “I have loads of homework, but maybe we can do it together.”

“That’s okay,” Holly says dismissively, though smiling. “Harry helped me catch up with most of my work. He even helped me with some stuff for the rest of the week.”

The smile fades from Draco’s face, replaced by a disgruntled look.

“Doesn’t Potter have his own work to catch up with? It’s not like-“ he cuts himself off abruptly as Lucius nudges him under the table. Had Lucius not done that, Draco would have put his foot in it again.

Lucius is beginning to have serious doubts about his son’s placement in Slytherin. The boy has no cunning at all. Holly, at age nine, has managed to trick her own father into allowing her to stay at the school. Granted, it is Severus’s own guilt that played a considerable part in this, but the girl sensed the weakness and jumped like a grindylow on prey. Like a true Slytherin. Lucius is proud of his goddaughter. He needs to make sure he continues to cultivate that. It’s certainly not a feat Draco would have managed at that age.

Draco certainly has more ambition than cunning, but ambition alone will not get a person far. Merlin, even Potter showed more cunning all summer.

“Harry’s always done my homework with me,” Holly says, eyes flashing angrily. “He’s really smart.”

Lucius once more nudges Draco as he opens his mouth to argue.

“I’m smart, too,” he mutters instead, somewhat resentful.

“I’m sure you are,” Holly replies, her voice so patronising that Lucius has to hide a smile behind his glass of pumpkin juice.

“Children,” he interrupts admonishingly, wanting to have a peaceful meal or something close to it.

They both return to their food, and Lucius clears his throat, asking, “So, you are all caught up with your work?”

“Not all of it,” Holly concedes without care. “Harry helped me with some maths stuff, but he said I should try to solve some problems by myself or I wouldn’t learn.”

Draco scoffs, “He probably didn’t know how to do it and didn’t want to admit it.”

Holly’s eyes flash yet again, but to Lucius’s pleasant surprise lets the comment go.

“Is that all you did today, then? Work on your homework?” Lucius prompts, wanting to move the conversation along. The best to do really would be to move off the topic of Potter altogether, but it is still early in the term and Holly and Potter are still going through a reunion phase. It will likely take a few weeks before a routine is kept, and Holly and Potter begin to slowly drift away, given the different directions they will be pulled in throughout the year.

He’s not daft enough to think they will completely drift apart, though nothing more would make Severus happier than for that to happen. However, Potter has classes, OWLs, Quidditch, friends, a girlfriend, and all other things Hogwarts entails. He will have to find time for Holly between all that, which will be difficult. As close as Holly and Potter are, both will come to realise that Potter’s priorities will not include babysitting Holly all the time. The novelty of being together will wear off in a matter of weeks. Particularly after Holly has her own routine, which Lucius suspects will include Potter as little as possible.

“No,” Holly replies. “We played some games after doing our homework. Then Harry took me around the castle, and he showed me the room where he, Dean and some of their friends go to practise stuff like gymnastics.”

Lucius’s interest perks up at this.

“They practise their gymnastics here?” he asks intently.

Holly, too, brightens up at Lucius’s attention.

“Yeah,” she says, waving her fork with enthusiasm. “Harry and Dean said they use the classroom when it’s cold outside, and they can do a workout inside. Aunt Min gave them permission to use a classroom near her office, and they have all sorts of equipment. And Harry said when the weather’s good, they shrink some of the stuff down and take it outside. Harry even said when Quidditch was cancelled last year, the Gryffindor team was allowed to practise some stuff in the gym room.”

“What’s this?” Draco butts in indignantly. “We’ve not heard of this room. Why do only the Gryffindors get to use it?”

“Because they asked Aunt Min,” Holly says slowly as if she’s speaking to a dimwit. “And she said yes. I bet you could get a similar room if you asked… someone.”

They all know she means Severus but neither press the issue.

“Besides,” Holly continues, turning back to the last of her risotto, “it’s not just Gryffindors. Harry said some of the other Houses use it as well, though it’s mostly muggle-borns or muggle-raised who like to keep up with fitness. Harry said very few Purebloods actually join.”

Lucius deliberately ignores the last sentence. His physical activities are consigned to swimming, the occasional flying, duelling and making love to his wife. He knows which one he enjoys most. Hopefully, the answer is the same as Narcissa’s.

“I’ve never heard of this room,” Draco scowls, thankfully ignorant of where his father’s thoughts have taken him. “I bet it’s just Gryffindors, no matter what Potter says.”

“Harry’s not a liar,” Holly rails, her fork scraping noisily against her plate, causing Lucius to wince at the sound.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Lucius adds soothingly. “More risotto?”

Holly nods distractedly, though she glowers in Draco’s direction.

They eat in silence for the next minute or so. Lucius waits for the moment to pass before striking up a conversation once more.

“What else did you do today?”

“Nothing much,” she shrugs. Then she perks up as her eyes land on the trunk Potter handed him earlier. “Oh, actually, Harry gave me my things from home. Mrs Figg, she’s our neighbour, packed away all my things for me. Dudley helped her. They gave it all to Harry, and Harry packed it all for me in my new trunk.”

There’s a smugness in her voice that Lucius struggles to identify the source of. Draco, meanwhile, eyes up the trunk in question.

“That’s Potter’s trunk,” he says in a belligerent tone that sets Lucius’s teeth on edge.

“It’s mine,” Holly says edgily.

“That’s Potter’s trunk,” Draco continues stubbornly. “It’s got those scorch marks on the left corner from fireworks, and it’s scratched at the bottom from the number of times he’s dropped it and dragged it.”

Lucius slants his son with a suspicious look. Draco has been stalking Potter for many years; really, he shouldn’t be surprised that he could identify his rival’s trunk.

“It used to be Harry’s,” Holly concedes, giving Draco a dubious look of her own. “And it’s still in good condition. Harry looks after his things. He said it’s mine now because all my things are in there. Also, it has my initials on it, so there.”

It takes Lucius an embarrassing second to think why Holly’s initials would be HP when he recalls her birth certificate has her down as Holly Pierce. He nudges Draco once again when the boy opens his mouth to argue. Lucius subtly shakes his head at his son. Calling Holly a Snape right now will only antagonise her beyond reason.

“Right,” Draco mumbles resentfully. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and decides to move past the issue. “So, who’s Dudley?”

“Harry’s cousin,” Holly answers with a smile. “I never used to like him. But he grew up, and he used to come and hang around with me and Oma sometimes on the weekend. He goes to this posh school called Smeltings, where his dad used to go. The uniform is horrible, and they carry around these stick things like a cane. Like Harry, he used to be a full-time boarder in his first and second year, but he said he wanted to board part-time when he started his third year. He comes back to Surrey every other weekend and always visits Oma and me. And when Harry’s home during the summer, they always come to our House. Dudley likes to practise his boxing while me and Harry practise our gymnastics.”

Lucius feels like he’s obtained a fair bit of information from Holly’s statement. Whoever this Dudley is, Holly holds him in good regard but nowhere near the same as Potter. And from the dip in her voice when mentioning ‘Dudley’s’ father, presumably Potter’s uncle, Holly doesn’t care for the man at all. He doesn’t even contemplate touching Holly’s comments in the present tense, as if she is still going back to her grandmother.

“What’s the stuff in the trunk?” Draco asks a little gruffly.

With increasing enthusiasm, Holly describes her belongings. Some more of her favourite books and knick-knacks, some things that belonged to her grandmother. Lucius makes a note to look through some of it with or without Holly; unlike a certain idiot Potions Master Lucius knows how not to get caught and weed out anything that might implicate Eileen.

He suppresses a sigh. What a pickle Eileen had left them in. 

“… and Harry put my gymnastics stuff in there as well. I have my leotard with me, and Harry said I could wear it tomorrow…”

“What’s a leotard?” Draco asks, saving Lucius from asking the same question.

“It’s my costume that I wear when I’m doing my exercises,” Holly says without explaining further before launching back into her story.

Lucius listens with half an ear as he mechanically eats his risotto, paying more attention to the girl’s demeanour than her words. With a pang, he realises this is the most animated and open he has seen her. With Severus, she is sullen and surly, glowering at her father most of the time they are in the same room together. Though her temperament had mellowed in the last week, she quickly became an angry child with the Potions Master once more after his assault on Potter. Until Draco’s gaffe with the mudblood word, she had been warm enough with the boy before her behaviour again became moody.

Apart from her initial reticence early on, she had warmed up to Narcissa and Lucius, keeping consistently on good terms with both. Though it was Regulus who she had been most open with. Yet, looking at her now, animated and excited and so eager, it is odd to see the comparison between the summer Holly and this Holly in front of him now. He realises that he is jealous of Potter at that moment as comprehension dawns, envious that he has elicited this reaction from the child he has been trying to win over since he first laid eyes on her.

However, unlike Severus, Lucius doesn’t feel the need to try to capture her for himself. With that epiphany, he understands enough about himself to feel happy that she is happy. He is glad to witness her euphoria at being united with Potter.

“I’m going to wear it tomorrow,” Holly announces, “for when I go down flying with Harry. And Harry said I could watch the Gryffindor tryouts on Saturday.”

 And just like that, Lucius is brought down to earth.

 One… two… three… four…

 “You’re going to the Quidditch tryouts for the Gryffindors?” Draco bites out.

Scraping her plate clean once more, Holly nods carelessly, then reaches for her juice, draining it in one go.

“Will you come to see the Slytherin tryouts?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs noncommittally. Then, either knowingly or unknowingly, Lucius couldn’t say for sure; she continues to stoke the fire. “Harry said they only need to try out for a Keeper, so it shouldn’t take long. He wasn’t allowed to fly today or do any gymnastics because Aunt Poppy ordered him not to. But tomorrow, he can fly, and Harry promised to take me on his broom. It’s a Firebolt, and Harry says it’s currently the best on the market, and all the international players use it. Harry said he’d teach me how to fly, but he’d borrow a slower broom like the Cleansweep because the Firebolt is too advanced for me.”

Draco splutters his juice everywhere.

“I tried to teach you to fly,” he says indignantly. “You said you didn’t like heights.”

“I lied,” she admits shamelessly, not realising how her words break Draco’s heart. “Harry always said he’d teach me to fly a broom, and I only wanted to learn from him.”

Lucius can feel his headache return as their behaviour descends into what can only be called bickering. He idly tries to remember where he put his family Pensieve. He shall need to dig it out and pass it on to Narcissa, along with this memory and ask her if she is sure they want more children.

Lucius tries to interject every so often but is roundly ignored by both; Holly’s tone becomes increasingly needling, continually using Potter’s name to irritate Draco, who falls for it and becomes more and more apoplectic.

“Potter’s a pathetic orphan with no brains and no sense,” Draco bursts out finally. “He struts around the school like he owns it, and people lick his arse because he’s won a few Quidditch games. What’s Potter got that I don’t?”          

 Paling in anger, Holly sneers, “Harry’s loads more talented and brainier than you. And unlike you, he’s got a heart, Tin Man.”

With that announcement, she leaves the table without excusing herself, flouncing off in the direction of the bedrooms, leaving father and son confused about her last words.

If Draco expects sympathy from his father, he is sorely mistaken when he sees the cold look Lucius is directing at him.

“When will you learn to hold your tongue?” he hisses, but defiantly, Draco foolishly talks back, “It’s just Potter.”

Lucius laments the bad habits his son is picking up from his godfather, lashing out without thought to how his words affect others and settles in for a long evening of trying to pacify a stubborn child, not all that dissimilar to a certain stubborn Potions Master.

ooOoo

Severus, taking his turn patrolling Hogsmeade, almost doesn’t spot them.

There!

His daughter standing unreasonably close to a dark-haired wizard. Severus squints as he tries to recognise the taller boy from this distance.

The boy and his daughter walk towards the direction of the Three Broomsticks. Severus subtly makes his way in that direction, threatening several students who impede his progress. It’s chilly outside, so a hot cup of tea or a tankard of butterbeer sounds good right now. It’s almost time to take a break, anyway.

His lips press together in displeasure as he spies them in the window as he passes the pub most popular with students. Loitering casually outside, Severus watches their progress as the duo make their way toward a booth that’s too secluded for Severus’s liking.

He allows a crowd of students to enter first as they give their professor a wary glance, walking past him.

The wind whistles loudly around him, the chill enough to almost make him shiver. Yes, a hot beverage would be just the thing to chase away the biting cold. He’s not going there to break up a cosy tete-a-tete with his daughter and this yet-unnamed student. He’s not interfering like that.

Closing the pub door behind him, he relishes in the pub’s warmth, listening as the garbled conversations continue around him. Keeping an eye on the semi-secluded booth, Severus makes his way to the bar, lamenting this patrol duty. Maybe he could go for an Irish coffee?

Sighing silently, he places an order for tea instead.

“Be right with you, Professor. Go ahead and take a seat,” the server tells him.

Nodding absently, Severus meanders around, looking for an empty spot that just happens to take him past his daughter’s booth.

As he slinks closer, he recognises the boy, Caleb Adams. A fifth-year Ravenclaw. A mediocre student. The boy doesn’t even have two brain cells to rub together. How the boy ended up in that House is beyond Severus.

Still, it would only be polite to greet his daughter and his student.

“Afternoon, Holly, Mr Adams,” he addresses them, coming to a standstill in front of their booth.

Adams, who seemed to have been in the act of reaching across the table for Holly’s hand, quickly snatches his hand back on seeing the dreaded dungeon bat towering over them.

“P-p-professor,” the boy stutters.

Ignoring his daughter’s glaring eyes, Severus stares down at the suddenly timid Ravenclaw.

“Having a good day?” he questions in a mild tone.

“We were,” Holly answers rudely.

Before anything more can be said, the server comes over with a tray laden with a tea set.

“Will you be sitting here, sir?” the server asks.

With a pointed look at his nervous student, who gets the hint and scrambles to shift further up the booth, Severus nods at the server, who sets the tray down and arranges the set on the table, hiding an amused grin.

“You’re interrupting a date,” Holly informs him curtly.

“Am I?” he asks, concentrating his eyes on the boy in front of him.

The boy laughs nervously, in a high-pitched squeal that grates Severus’s nerves.

“Of—of-of course not,” Adams says. “Thi – this isn’t a date. We’re just friends.”

Holly directs her glare at the boy instead. Said boy quails under twin black eyes glowering in his direction.

“Are you playing with my daughter’s affections, Mr Adams?” Severus asks coldly.

Trembling further, Adams shakes his head in the negative, unable to form a reply.

“God, Dad,” Holly bursts out in annoyance, “why are you interfering in my business?”

“Have you talked to your brother recently?” Severus avoids the question. He knows Holly understands the true question. Does Harry know about this boy?

Holly scowls at him and snaps, “Why should I tell you?”

Severus nods as if she’s answered his question. Harry knows something. Holly tells Harry everything. Severus calmly goes about making his cup of tea to his liking.

He raises his eyebrow in Adams’s direction.

“I was not aware you and my daughter were acquainted,” he says, adding two teaspoons of sugar without taking his eye off the boy. With Holly only being a fourth year and a Slytherin, there should be no reason for this boy to take his child out on a date. Besides, Severus knows all of Holly’s friends. Or he thought he had, eying the boy coldly.

“We – we – we’re in Gobstones club together,” Adams gathers his courage long enough to reply. “H- H- Holly’s a good player.”

“Gobstones club,” Severus repeats blandly. “I would think, Mr Adams, given that this is your OWL’s year, you would have more important pursuits to worry about rather than silly little games.”

The gall of this boy to try and get close to Holly. None of his Slytherins would dare risk his wrath to ask out his child, no Gryffindor brave enough. Especially after what happened to that idiot Chambers. The Hufflepuffs were likewise too timid, and the Ravenclaws … well, it seems this Ravenclaw did not have good survival instincts that he dared to risk Severus’s fury.

“Hello, all,” a gentle voice interrupts the three-way staring contest.

“Harry,” Holly greets the boy much more happily than she greeted Severus.

Severus is forced to stand up to allow Holly to pass so she can get up and hug her brother, or else she would literally walk over his lap to get to him. As she has several times in the past.

“How’s my favourite, Holly?” Harry smiles at his sister.

“I’m okay. I didn’t think you were back in the country yet,” she returns the smile.

“Took a portkey a few hours ago,” he answers. “Came straight from my game.”

Indeed, Harry is still wearing his Quidditch robes.

“Can I sit with you, or is this private?”

Adams, like the gormless twit he is, stares at Harry wide-eyed.

Severus enters the booth first, budging up so he is closer to Adams, who cringes away from his professor.  Holly enters next, and Harry straight after. Holly leans into her brother as he keeps an arm protectively around her shoulders.

A server comes to take Harry’s order, looking awestruck as Harry politely speaks to him. Severus calmly drinks his tea, feeling relaxed now that Harry is here.

“I don’t know your name,” Harry prompts as Adams is too stunned to introduce himself.

“Caleb Adams,” Severus answers frigidly when Adams imitates a goldfish.

“I’m Harry,” he introduces himself needlessly as if the whole wizarding world doesn’t know who Harry Potter is.

Severus shakes his head affectionately. The server returns post-haste with Harry’s butterbeer.

“What House are you in? Are you in Slytherin with Holly?” Harry asks with more patience than Severus deems necessary.

When the boy still doesn’t answer, Harry looks to Holly for an answer.

“Caleb’s in Ravenclaw,” she answers for the boy. “We go to Gobstones club together.”

Harry nods as he sips his butterbeer with his free hand, the other resting protectively on Holly’s shoulder. Harry slowly draws the boy out of his shell.     

“OWL year then, yeah?” Harry smiles companionably. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Adams nods timidly.

“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. Being a Ravenclaw and all. You play Quidditch at all?”

“Beater,” came the answer. “I started as a Beater this year.”

“A bit late to the game, weren’t you? Of course, I played Seeker in my first year. Youngest Seeker in a century,” Harry smiles deprecatingly. “And Holly, she’s been playing Chaser since her second year. She’s terrific at it.”

“Harry,” Holly says exasperatedly, coming over shy at his praise.

Harry smiles impishly down at his sister. Severus listens in amusement as Harry slowly, patiently, painstakingly, and Merlin, oh so masterfully begins to question the boy further. Harry is good at things like that, on the one hand praising the boy and on the other slyly putting him down. This will be good. He hides his smirk behind his cup of tea.

“You must be a quiet, bookish sort. Like my friend Hermione. She loves her books. She single-handedly runs the Ministry now, practically. By the time we were your age, me and my friends had saved the Philosopher’s Stone, defeated a giant snake, battled over a hundred Dementors, won the Triwizard Tournament, defeated a Dark Lord and passed our exams with record-setting scores,” Harry rattles off kindly. Then, in a more reasonable tone, he points out, “Of course, our circumstances were different. I’m sure if you had the same opportunities, you could have done the same.”

At Harry’s dubious tone, the boy stammers out a nonsensical reply.

“Holly’s quite the adventurer herself, though. Aren’t you, Holly?” Harry smiles down at his sister. “She likes to travel with us in the summer, helping our Dad collect potion ingredients. She has such a way with owls too. Wants to become an owl breeder after Hogwarts. Right?”

“Yeah,” Holly agrees, looking adoringly up at her brother.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after Hogwarts?” Harry asks, turning to Adams once more.

“N-n-no,” the boy stutters.

“Ah well,” Harry laments sympathetically. “No ambition. Can see why you didn’t make it into Slytherin.”

Severus finds himself suppressing a snort.        

“Harry!” Holly admonishes half-heartedly.

“My mate Ron always knew he wanted to play for the Chudley Cannons,” Harry shrugs unrepentantly.

“I – um – I should go,” Adams blurts out and, without waiting for an answer, scrambles out of his seat and dashes through the pub and straight outside.

“Admirably done,” Severus compliments his son.

“NO!” Severus shoots up from his fitful dozing, heart hammering from his dream. He did not think of Harry Potter as his son. He did not!