Memory Lane

Chapter 27

Both of my parents look shocked to see me and I think it's been quite a long time since I popped in to join them for dinner unannounced, unplanned, or unrequested.

"Granger, ah," I hesitate. Is there danger in admitting I essentially left her there alone? How much detail to provide?

Well, why not all of it? She does live in the Manor now, even if it's against her will. My parents know she's here, after all. "Granger is trying to figure out how I made the scar lotion. I left her to it in my lab."

They exchange a look but don't seem unduly concerned. And Granger doesn't have a wand, anyway, and the ingredient inventory is limited. I suppose she could make some nasty concoction up there on her own to surprise me with, but even hot coffee could blind me if she were so inclined.

"She was quite curious about it," my mother muses. "Understandable."

"It would be understandable anyway, even if she weren't as brilliant as she is," I emphasise. "But it's also giving her mind something to do, something uniquely academic for the first time in - well, maybe years."

Or since learning Occlumency, my brain whispers. But in a way, this is almost the opposite. Occlumency is about clearing her mind, thinking as little as possible. Deconstructing a brand new potion crafted in a unique mix of alchemy over the course of this dinner will take all the tremendous brainpower Granger has.

Of course, she can have as long as she likes. But I smile a bit thinking back to her demand that I return after dinner so I can answer her questions, in case she still has some. She's confident she can do it in this span of time. I'm quite curious to see how far she gets, to be honest.

My mother catches my eye. "I'm not sure about that. She's been spending a great deal of time enjoying the library."

I have a brief urge to ask if she's been researching manticores and chimaeras, then give myself a quick shake. "Good. I'm glad she's able to find something to enjoy here."

"And she went searching for you this evening. Apparently she's not quite so indifferent to you after all," my father purrs.

"'Indifferent' isn't the word I'd use, and I still wouldn't go that far, just because curiosity is winning out over hostility." I quirk an eyebrow at him and help myself to some salad, picking away the grape tomatoes. "I'm sure it's temporary."

"She does seem a certain blend of curious and hostile, I'll agree." My father lifts his glass to his lips, but his tone is playful. I'm intrigued.

Pleased at having grasped my attention with this, he goes on. "I had a delightful little spar with her over house elves the other day. She's quite spirited."

I vehemently wish I'd been a fly on the wall for that conversation and can't help wondering if Granger slapped him by the end of it, like she always used to do to me. I wonder what my father would do if she did.

Probably best not to find out.

"How many other conversations have you had with her, pray tell?" I inquire, trying for casualness and not at all managing it.

Lucius is amused. "Are you concerned? Worried, perhaps, that I can't play nicely?"

"On the contrary," I say, a little stiffly. Definitely not casual. "Granger likes to slap when she gets riled. I'm only wondering if you've seen that side of her yet."

He's scandalised. My mother looks quite amused too, and releases a soft sort of giggle into the top of her wine goblet.

Now my father looks rather put upon. "Cissa, are you implying you hope that's happened? Or that you'd like it to?"