the Horcrux Thief, james potter

iii. peace at dinner, war on quidditch

Then again she quickly forgot the boy, when Potter smiled at her easily, told her it didn't matter about blood with the type of nonchalance one would talk about groceries, and asked, "Ready to go home?"

Her smile had felt forced, and even as she followed the Potter family to the Floo the word home still made her feel uneasy. She didn't have a home and there was a good reason for it. Which was why as soon as they'd arrived, Amaya had turned to Fleamont and Euphemia and had tried to argue her case, telling them she'd be out of their hair as soon as got settled—knowing she would lie about it seeing as she had no money to her name after being kindly kicked out of her own country and probably disowned.

Fleamont had looked entertained as he listened and when she finished he'd turned to his wife and asked, "Why does every homeless kid we try to take in, refuse us?"

Amaya felt her cheeks slightly flame from embarrassment.

Black—who had invited himself and Lupin for dinner, sans the shifty boy who had to take care of his mother—had been the one to answer as he threw an arm around her shoulders, making Amaya stiffen slightly before she relaxed.

"Because you're too generous," he'd said, before turning to her and adding, "Believe me, Santoro, if you try and leave without a good reason they'll drag you back by the ear. I had to magically un-stretch mine—" He yelped when Euphemia slapped his arm away from Amaya's shoulder with a stern look.

"Leave the poor girl alone."

"He's pulling your leg, Santoro," Potter added, mischief dancing in his eyes, "His ears were just unnaturally long to begin with—"

"Were not!" Black glared at him. "I have perfect ears."

"And a sizable ego," murmured Lupin, making Amaya's lips twitch in amusement that only grew when Sirius smirked.

"You know what else of me is sizable—"

"Alright! That's enough," Ephemia had cut them off ignoring everyone's snickers as she turned to Amaya with a warm smile, that reminded her so much of the smile her own mother had—given it wasn't usually directed at her. "They're idiots sometimes, darling, but you indeed need a mighty good reason to leave. We won't accept you believing you're bothering us. Our house is big enough to accommodate everyone."

She had looked around the room, trying to find an escape because she couldn't possibly stay there with the Potters, who were so willing to take her in, despite the fact she hardly deserved it.

Her eyes met Potter's hazel ones. He winked her way. Not fighting the urge to roll her eyes, but being massively embarrassed by the faint blush she was sure coated her cheeks, she turned to Euphemia and Fleamont with a resigned sigh.

"Alright," she'd said with a nod.

Euphemia had beamed as if Amaya had just told her Christmas was coming. "I'll show you to your room. Ninny, our house elf, has it all set up. It's in the west wing, although I will give you a tour—the house sounds bigger than it is."

She'd told her she was used to big houses as she'd lived in one herself before she was whisked away by the older woman, who she reckoned loved the idea of having a daughter—not that Amaya was her daughter in any way, or that she deserved even the idea of being one.

The Potter manor was almost as big as her house back in Spain in the countryside of Madrid.

Back home, or well, back in her old house, they'd had land that stretched out beyond what the eye could see—as well as other properties she had no wish of returning to. Their house was beautiful, they had terraces and balconies, and they had a patio in the middle that opened to the sky where she could see the stars as she was wrapped in the warmth of summer. However, their house had felt cold—always lacking the warmth that Potter Manor so effortlessly had despite the gray clouds in the sky that seemed on the verge of crying—in August.