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𝐷𝐴𝑃𝐻𝑁𝐸 𝐺𝑅𝐸𝐸𝑁𝐺𝑅𝐴𝑆𝑆 ——

“A lot of patience, saying sorry, chocolate and finding great hiding places. Let’s just say I know more about women bodies and problems than most men.” he replied, another laugh escaping him. “If we’re talking technical, I have seven, what with an in law but luckily didn’t live with us at the time.” It was true, it’s probably also why he was so close with the women back in Gryffindor and in school. Lavender, Parvati, Ginny, Luna- he could go on. “And yes it has! Westfield is fantastic for it and the restaurants there, divine, ugh, I wish you could visit it. You should somewhen, I’d happily show you around.” and she was right, Diagon was great for having everything in one place, but it was still positively medieval compared to the muggle world. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get there someday, I guess it’s easier to keep the secret this way though.” 

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Daphne’s eyebrow lifts, observing Dean with an amused little smile as he rambles excitedly on about the Muggle world, something which is ironically so physically nearby and yet so abstractly distant. Shrugging one shoulder, Daphne says, “I don’t think it would be that difficult to build a few more Diagon Alleys here and there. Not if we were careful about it. I’d love for you to show me around some time, though — some of those Muggle luxury brands are to die for. It’s always surprised me that none of our fashion houses have ever done anything Muggle-inspired. I mean, hello, we’re two decades into the twenty-first century, we can at least admit they know how to dress themselves.”

Astoria snuggled into her sister’s side, her body relaxing as she did so. This was one of the things that she missed the most about being a kid and living with their parents. Sometimes, the girls had had sleepovers in different rooms of the mansion. They’d giggle and make up long drawn out fantasy stories and then they’d giggle some more. Whenever Astoria felt ill, Daphne was always there to comfort her and snuggle up to. Of course, she was here now, but it was different now that they both had their own lives and careers to think about as well. ( just made things more difficult sometimes ) 

“I know,” she said, her eyes closed. She sighed as she thought about it. No, it wasn’t bad that her sister wanted to help her. ( even though she could be overbearing at times ) Most people would kill to have someone like Daph take care of them and love them as much as Daphne loved Astoria. She groaned. “I know it’s not. But you know I like to do stuff on my own.” She blew the hair out of her eyes. “Also, I may have almost passed out today.” 

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Reining in the part of her that wants to lose her cool over the information that Astoria had nearly lost consciousness today, Daphne merely lets out a controlled sigh and runs her hand through her sister’s hair. She worries about her so much, and there’s simply no way to make sure at all times that she’s okay, taking care of herself, being cautious. The idea haunts her that one day Astoria could faint somewhere that other people aren’t around and really hurt herself, or worse than faint. “What do you mean by almost?” Daphne asks in a level voice. “Had you been feeling ill before that at all or was it sudden?”

“That a problem?” he asks, leaning back on his sofa and knocking his knee against her leg. “And I can hold my liquor well enough. Maybe not as well as you, but well enough.” Daphne’s fun and pretty and slightly wobbly in his field of vision. “You’re free to have my bed,” he slurred, his eyes closing slightly. “Sofa is awful comfortable.” 

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“Obviously you can’t hold your liquor seeing as you’re practically falling asleep on me,” Daphne points out wryly. Leaning over while his eyes are closed, she presses a soft kiss to his cheek and then observes him with a small smirk. “Might that keep awake a bit longer, Weasley?”

“Shopping for yourself is always great. Very…therapeutic you could say.” he replied with a genuine huff of laughter. Some of his items were for himself, afterall, it was Christmas and they all deserved it. “Aren’t most siblings? Imagine having six sisters, guaranteed at least half of them get upset at my gift buying. There’s only so many times I can gift them a painting.” he added with a smirk. “I don’t actually live in London. I’m just outside it though, in Stratford. Home of West Ham.” he knew she most likely wouldn’t have a clue what he was referencing so he held up his scarf. “Muggle sport. Big fan. What about you, live locally?”

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“Six sisters,” Daphne echoes with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know how you do it — I can just barely handle one.” Of course, Astoria feels like more sometimes what with the curse and all, but she doesn’t mention that. And before she can ask what West Ham is, the explanation comes and it’s decidedly unsurprising. “Ah,” Daphne says, rolling her eyes but not without a little smirk of amusement, “of course, Muggle sports. Well that must be nice; I don’t typically venture out into Muggle areas, but I hear Straford has quite the shopping mall. Shame wizards haven’t expanded, isn’t it?”

Astoria would never admit it, but she cherishes the moments when Daphne rushes around like she’s had her head cut off trying to make everything better. ( she can’t, but the fact that she tries is heart warming ) When she was little, her sister was always at home waiting for her after she’d received her treatments. Even then, Daphne had made that day about Astoria; they’d play the games she wanted exactly how she wanted them. After Daphne left for Hogwarts, Astoria hated going to get treatments even more than before. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, too,” she muttered under her breath as she leaned back into her sister’s couch. If there was one thing Daph had good taste in, it was furniture. The cushions on the couch were soft as fuck. Lifting her head, Astoria levels a glare at her sister. “I can take care of myself, Daphne. I do it everyday and I get on just fine.” She knew her sister meant well, but she resented the comment all the same. Her disease didn’t mean that her life was going to be any less lived than anyone else’s. ( it was different, but not less )

“Thanks,” she muttered taking the cup from her sister. It tasted perfect, as always. After taking another sip, she sat the cup on table and pulled the small throw off the back of the couch. She unfolded it and wrapped it around herself. Then, she tugged up a corner and patted the spot next to her. “Alright, mother hen, stop running around and come cuddle me.” 

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Yes, Astoria could take care of herself — just not to Daphne’s standards. She hates the idea of what her sister would be doing if she wasn’t around to force her to drink tea and take a breather and get proper rest. Astoria is the kind of workaholic people wish they could be, driven and focused and impossible to deter, and maybe for the standard witch and wizard that’s fine, but her sister’s curse changes the rules of the game. And seeing as she’s the most important thing in the world to Daphne, it can be quite scary to imagine what could happen.

Still, she knows she gets overbearing about it sometimes and right now is perhaps one of them. Letting out a soft sigh, she joins her sister on the couch, putting an arm around her and tilting Astoria’s head onto her shoulder. “I worry about you, that’s all,” she says softly. “Obviously you can take care of yourself, Tori, but is it really so bad to let me help? Everyone needs help sometimes. It’s not a weakness.”

George might be drunk, but magnificent is magnificent and Daphne likes the sound of it. With an indulgent smirk, she crosses a leg in his direction and sips delicately at her own glass of wine. “And you,” she says, “are magnificently sloshed. Trouble holding your liquor, Weasley?”

      “Enough,” Theo snapped, cutting off the last of her sentence. “My despicable father is exactly that and I’ve no problem cutting my losses, as you well know. If he rots in Azkaban, that’s the consequence of his own failings and I’ve no qualms leaving him to his fate.” He downed the rest of the whiskey and, in a moment of rage, threw the glass over the guardrail where it shattered on the street below, narrowly missing a car. A few Muggles looked up and began shouting at him, but he paid them no mind. “I won’t be dragged into anything. Especially not by my worthless father.”

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The outburst hits home in a way that Daphne hopes doesn’t show on her face. And if it does, that Theo is too riled up to notice. She doesn’t look away because she knows he will notice that, and anyway she’s more than used to his theatrics. He is predictable in his unpredictability, and when he throws the glass over the balcony she can only roll her eyes. “But you are being dragged into it. What are you going to do, pretend it isn’t happening?” She laughs. “I always knew you were a bit of a coward, but I never knew you were stupid.” Taking a step closer to him, Daphne briefly touches her finger to his pouting mouth and says, “They won’t let you ignore it.” And now she looks up at him challengingly, “You already hate you father, so do the right thing and testify against him. All of them. You’re the child of one of the them, Theo. Your word will mean a lot.”

She was right, of course. There were all kinds of forbidden spells that were never discussed in good circles. ( his family included ) There were things that the Death Eaters had done that George knew wouldn’t be spoken about until the trials happened. ( unspeakable, horrible things ) Why was it so hard to believe someone had done something terrible to Fred? ( perhaps because he and his family were the ones affected; you never wanted to believe something so terrible could happen to you until it was already passed )

George slid over to make room for the girl next to him, surprised at how at ease he feels. In a few short hours, she’d managed to get more out of him than his family or friends had. He nodded. “Healers.” ( he’d have to remind himself to head there later ) St. Mungo’s was not a place he visited unless he had, too, but if someone there could figured out what had happened to Fred, he was more than willing to give it a try. He snorted. Influence. He doubted anyone at the Ministry wanted to help a beat up old war hero with anything. ( what they really wanted was to forget he even existed; such a cruel reminder of the war with his missing ear and his dead twin ) “I’m not Harry,” he muttered. “Those fuckers want nothing to do with me.” 

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“Harry?” Daphne repeats, scoffing. “Harry Potter? Please. Just because you’re not some short, overrated little showoff with ugly glasses and an even uglier scar splitting your face in half doesn’t mean you don’t have influence. The Ministry is wetting themselves to win favour with any of you lot.” Yet he still looks so forlorn, so with a small sigh Daphne takes his chin and forces him to look at her, meeting his eyes. “You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, George. It’s atrocious what’s happened and you have every right to be freaking out but wallowing in pity isn’t going to help your brother.” She releases his chin and lifts her eyebrows at him. “He needs you. Gryffindors are so bloody noble — if you need to twist some arms to get it done, that’s what you do. Your family comes first.”

~

Astoria’s blood runs cold at her sister’s words. Despite everything, she had never had that thought. ( he was still their father even if astoria hated what he’d done ) “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “Please don’t say that, Daph.” After squeezing her sister’s hand once again, she gently lets go to rub her own temples. She knew that their father hadn’t thought about them when he’d been making these decisions. ( he’d thought about his political ambition ) Clearly, he’d had a backup plan ( however flawed ) should things not work out in his favor. Astoria wants to laugh at her sister’s statement. The Ministry has always been corrupt, but they were children and too blind to see it until now. “What else am I supposed to do?” she snapped. The Ministry wouldn’t change overnight, but Astoria had plans to change it. Not today, not even tomorrow, but in the future it would change. “I don’t have any other option, Daphne. Not unless I want to live off Daddy’s money.” 

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As soon as Astoria lets go of her hand Daphne pulls it into her lap, looking away, because she doesn’t want to see her sister’s face. She’d always been the daddy’s girl of the two of them, and though Daphne would never say it out loud — tries not even to think it most of the time — she knows their father prefers his youngest daughter. Her anger is different than Astoria’s, and there’s a part of her that is coldly aware of the fact that it would be easier for her than for Astoria to cut ties. “Of course you have options,” Daphne retorts, keeping her voice low. “You’re brilliant. There are other careers. And it’s not like I couldn’t support you for a while until you found something.” She reaches for her drink on the table but only swirls it around its glass. “Does mum know?”

Something confirmed what he was questioning, Daphne didn’t know. And he certainly was not going to discuss it on the street, maybe it would become clear in the trials why he unlike the others had more than just a petty school dislike for the blonde. He didn’t really want to talk about him anymore. Theo was an okay topic, as long as he didn’t give too much away nor start unintentional rumours. “The- Nott- fuck it, Theo has his own issues but without risking him coming after this pretty face, I think there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. I suppose it’s just one of those weird friendships- and the glaring is quite amusing when it’s not directed at me. But I’m sure it’s rather boring to listen to me speak about him. Tell me, what does the illustrious Daphne do for the holidays?” 

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Daphne rolls her eyes, though she doesn’t bother to hide her grin. Her family might have been falling apart at the seams, but she still likes talking about herself and nobody said she had to be truthful, necessarily. “A lot of shopping,” she answers, holding up her bags as evidence. “Some for others, but mostly for myself. Well — Astoria too, but she’s so difficult to buy for. I’m much easier. What about you, Thomas?” She cocks an eyebrow up at him. “Do you live in London or are you in town for the holidays?”

“Maybe it’s my dazzling personality?” he quipped, letting out a snort of amusement. Maybe Theo wouldn’t say that, or ever tell him just why he bothered to keep seeing him and also acknowledge him outside of their sessions. “He’s more easily forgiven- Malfoy however-” did Daphne know? Maybe not, he wasn’t sure completely who had been aware of just what had happened but Dean never forgot. For all intents and purposes, Draco was the same as his parents and being trapped, tortured and beaten within the confines of the Malfoy home. “-well, that’s neither here or there. Some things are hard to forgive and forget.” and he would never forget, for every night he was plagued with the memories. 

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“Your sparkling personality,” Daphne grins. “Yes, maybe.” She wonders suddenly if Theo had gotten him into his bed, if that’s what this is. It wouldn’t surprise her. Theo would have a laugh bedding a Gryffindor, but it strikes Daphne as excessively evil. Dean Thomas is rather nice, and certainly he doesn’t deserve to be strung along. “Well — I don’t suppose I can fault you lot for hating Draco so much. At least Theo’s quite about being an arsehole, right? Just don’t say I didn’t tell you so when you inevitably become disenchanted with his constant glaring.”

~

“I don’t know,” Astoria whispered. “I don’t know.” It was the question she had asked herself constantly since she’d found out, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never come up with a good answer. Taking a deep breath, Astoria steadied herself. ( she had to remain calm ) “But we have to think about the possibility of it affecting us. Look at the Malfoys. They didn’t go to Azkaban, but it certainly affected the public’s opinion of them, even other purebloods’ opinions.” She couldn’t help the small smile that fell over her face as her sister mentioned that she should have done this in private. Leave it to Daph to worry about her how she looked. ( but she figured it was best to do this in the Muggle world where the walls didn’t have ears; literally ) “Don’t say that,” she snapped grabbing Daphne’s hand. “He burned the evidence so there’s no proof.” ( she didn’t even get to make the decision that she wanted to turn him in; that was taken away from her ) 

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Daphne lets out a small sob when Astoria grabs her hand and uses the other to briefly hide her eyes, then furiously wipes the tears away, abandoning the napkin. “Maybe I want him to go to Azkaban,” she says fiercely. Her cheeks feel hot with emotion, her heart pounding out a frantic, agonising beat. It feels good to say the words, to make tangible in some way the horror and betrayal she feels. “He obviously wasn’t thinking about us when he decided to fund a genocide so why should we think about him?” But the words are empty — they feel good to say, but even now in the height of her emotion Daphne knows it could never be as easy as abandoning her father. “How can the Ministry be so corrupt?” she demands wetly. “How? I thought it was supposed to be over! You shouldn’t even be working there, Tori!”