Fic: "Tea for Two"
Title: "Tea for Two
Author: auntbijou
Rating: G
Pairing: Harry, Lily (oh, for Pete's sake, y'all, it's a G-Rated fic!!!)
Summary:What a delight for Harry to discover the joys of having a daughter when it's time for a very special tea hosted by Herself.
Warning: Extreme cuteness
Words: 2, 348
Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful Potterverse, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Maybe if I offer her chocolate chip cookies??
A/N: I got this idea while, of all things, scrubbing out the bottom of the refrigerator. Hey, can you think of a better way to employ the disconnect in your brain while doing an unpleasant task? No, I didn't think so! Anyway, this is for all fathers with little daughters who take the time to stop and scrunch down on tiny chairs while wearing silly hats while holding wee little cups of dubious liquids and pretending to drink them with their little hostesses. You guys rock!
Harry looked at the words scribbled on his calender, not that he'd forget, and grinned. Tea party at 4 in the garden, it said. He got up, putting away the file he'd been working on, grabbing his cloak and the file folio on his desk. He'd been looking forward to this all week.
"Leaving, Potter?" said Robards, coming up to his cubicle with parchments in his hands.
"Yes," he said firmly, using his wand to tidy his desk and his area.
Robards frowned. "Potter, a new case just came in and I want you and Weasley..."
"Tomorrow, sir," said Harry with steel in his voice. Gone were the days where he would just do whatever was asked of him, no matter how he felt about it personally. "Right now, I have a date, and I do not want to be late. My hostess is not very understanding on that point."
"Look, Potter, I'm sure if you just explain it..."
"Sorry, sir, no can do," said Harry airily, grabbing his things and shrinking them to stow in his pocket. "Tomorrow. And that's my final word. If it can't wait, assign it to someone else." He picked up the apple Ginny had given him that morning, and bit into it as he threw his cloak over his shoulder and strode out of the office, not even sparing one look back as he left, a big smile on his face.
Robards turned to Weasley, who was staring after Harry, an amused smile on his face. "What's with him?" Robards asked, the wrinkles of the curse scar on his cheek puckering as he scowled at the red-head.
Ron laughed softly as he shuffled his parchments into line and slipped them into a file. "He's in love," he said simply.
The old Auror shook his head as he mentally shifted Aurors and their assignments in his head, calculating who would be free to take on the new case. "Potter's gone soft," he growled as he realized he would have to do as Potter had suggested, and wait until morning to assign the case. "He got married and he went soft."
"Thank goodness for that!" said Ron fervently as he finished sorting his own desk out and picked up his cloak.
"You leaving, too, Weasley?"
Ron Weasley grinned, and it wasn't a nice one. "Robards, you ever think to yourself there's a reason you aren't married?"
"Sure," Robards said with a grunt as he shifted the parchments under his arm and prepared to limp back to his office. "Women are picky, demanding, and always wanting you to do things, always wanting attention." He harrumphed as he glared at the now laughing younger man. "I'm better off without 'em."
"Exactly," said Ron, grinning as he picked up his own things. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Auror Robards, Hermione has made chocolate cake for dessert, and if I'm late, I won't get any." He started walking down the hall.
"Whipped," muttered the old Auror, grimacing at the spring in Ron's step.
Ron looked back over his shoulder before he turned the corner. "Think about it," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Really, when is being pussy-whipped ever a bad thing?" He licked his lips for emphasis, and disappeared around the corner, laughing heartily.
Robards grumbled, aware he was missing something, and refusing to think about it. He headed back to his office, where a bottle of Fire Whisky was calling his name.
Harry sat down carefully on the little wooden chair, laying his cloak on the handy garden fence.
"I do apologize for being late, Miss Moppet," he warbled contritely as he folded himself onto the chair, feeling very much as if his knees were about to bump his earlobes.
His hostess glared at him, then dissolved into dimples and giggles before she forced herself to look very solemn and grown-up. "That's quite all right, Mr. Tibblywibbles," she said, and handed him his hat.
Harry took it very solemnly, and perched it on top of his wildly errant hair where it wobbled for a moment before he steadied it with a cautious hand, pushing it back into place. It was a very elegant and lovely specimen of feminine millinery, having two bunches of trembling hyacinths topped by a rather ragged specimen of unidentifiable, moth-eaten bird. Probably a relic of Auntie Muriel's attic, thought Harry as he accepted the fluffy feather boa that he draped around his neck, as well as the hideously fashionable purple and green-flecked brooch that he pinned to his tie. "Ah," he said with a relieved sigh. "That feels much better!"
"You are looking much more like yourself, Mr. Tibblywibbles," said his hostess, and she handed him a tiny china cup of amber liquid. "Tea, Mr. Tibblywibbles?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, Miss Moppet," he said, accepting the cup and peering rather doubtfully into it. "Um... is this to drink, Miss Moppet, or just for pretend?"
Miss Moppet giggled. "The Cook supplied the tea, Mr. Tibblywibbles, so you can drink it."
"Ah," said Mr. Tibblywibbles, and he took a hesitant sip. When it didn't make his mouth pucker, he smiled. "Absolutely delicious, Miss Moppet," he said. "We shall have to thank Cook for making such scrumptious tea."
"And biscuits, too!" said Miss Moppet, lifting up a tea tray and holding it at a precarious angle to display the variety of biscuits and tea-cakes the ever so generous "Cook" had supplied them with. "I thought Albu... I mean, Mr. Snickerwidget would steal them before I could get them out to the table!"
"Really, Miss Moppet?" said Mr. Tibblywibbles as he sipped his tea, and fluffed up the boa around his neck. "That is simply terrible! Something must be done about the abominable Mr. Snickerwidget! We can't have Snickerwidgets stealing the biscuits for our tea, now can we?"
"No, not at all!" said Miss Moppet repressively. "Would you be so kind as to pour, Mr. Tibblywibbles? I have my hands full with the biscuits. I shall serve them while you pour the tea."
"Oh, yes, certainly, Miss Moppet! I'm honoured to pour the tea!" He picked up the tiny china teapot with the little golden Snitches flying around its fat belly and poured the tea into the two tiny cups while Miss Moppet set the tray down and busied herself arranging the biscuits and one tiny cake each on two plates.
Harry smiled, watching his little daughter as she arranged the cookies with all the fussiness of her grandmother Molly. He loved these moments with Lily and would never pass them up for anything, if he could help it. He loved his sons dearly, and cherished every single moment with them, but he had to admit, Lily, or Miss Moppet as she was calling herself at the moment, gave him the opportunities for sheer silliness that he had never had during his own childhood. Perhaps he shouldn't call them opportunities so much as... excuses. After all, neither Jamie, or Al would give him any reason to wear a ridiculous hat with feathers, flowers, and fowl upon it, though he did wear an elephant hat when Al's preschool studied circuses once. Nor would either of his boys expect him to sit in a tiny chair, or "dress" for high tea the way Lily did, or talk in a high, silly voice while balancing in that chair.
"Oh, Miss Moppet," he said in his high falsetto (Mr. Tibblywibbles was highly prone to indignant and rather squeaky bursts of speech).
"Yes, Mr. Tibblywibbles?" said Miss Moppet, handing him a wee plate with three biscuits piled shakily on it.
"Where can our dear Mr. Bun-Bun be? I'm so worried, because he's usually here so much earlier than me!" Harry managed to look both worried and delighted about the taste of the biscuit he was nibbling, even though he had to discreetly spit bit of bright pink feather from Miss Moppet's hat into his napkin.
"Well," said Miss Moppet with great relish, leaning toward him with her eyes sparkling with mischief as she put an elbow in one of the teacakes, though Mr. Tibblywibbles said nothing, "you see, Mr. Tibblywibbles, Mr. Bun-Bun had a bit of an accidental." She apparently missed the sudden hilarity in Mr. Tibblywibbles eyes and warmed to her story. "You see, he snuck into the kitchen, and..."
Hermione leaned back from the window and turned to look at Ginny, who was giggling into her own teacup.
"And they do this every Thursday?" said Hermione, fighting her own fit of the giggles.
"Every Thursday without fail!" said Ginny, putting her teacup down as she gave in to her laughter. "Oh, it's so funny! I mean, who would ever have thought Harry of all people!"
"I don't know," said Hermione thoughtfully, even though she was laughing as she peeked out the window again at the two, Harry listening intently to every word Lily said, expressions of mock horror on his face at regular intervals. "I mean, think of his own childhood, and all that he missed. I think he'd rather enjoy the opportunity to do something so silly and harmless as a tea party with his little girl." She looked back at Ginny. "I mean, think about it, he never misses an opportunity to play pirate with the boys, and look how he roped Ron into it!" She shook her head at the memory of Ron bellowing, "Shiver me timbers," and "Avast, me hearty!" at the top of his lungs while galloping through the orchard, a wooden sword in hand and four delighted little boys racing before him, squealing in mock panic as he threatened to run them through.
Ginny snorted and fell back in her chair, wiping laugh tears from her cheeks. "I thought Mum was going to have heart failure!"
Hermione laughed, too, then sighed. "Oh, Ginny, it's fine. So Harry's sitting in the garden wearing Auntie Muriel's ugliest wedding hat and a feather boa. It's all in good fun, and to tell you the truth, I remember my own father doing pretty much the same thing when I was small. And they're small for such a short time..."
"I know," said Ginny softly. She watched Harry wave his hands over his head in horror and realized Lily was probably regaling her father with the story of how her stuffed bunny fell into the cake batter when she had "helped" him take a closer look inside the bowl. Mr. Bun-Bun was currently hanging in the bathroom, waiting a second cleaning charm. "It's just... I want to take pictures, but... I don't want them to know, and... would it be all right, do you think?"
"Go ahead and take pictures, Gin," said Hermione with a soft smile. "You won't regret it, and one day, Harry will be absolutely delighted to see them. Give one to her as a gift on her wedding day."
Ginny laughed, then set her chin in her hand, staring out the window to watch her husband and her daughter go into yet another tizzy of gossip. "I think I'll do just that," she said softly, thinking of another father and daughter, sitting in the orchard at the Burrow, warded against invading brothers, and having high tea under the apple trees. What she wouldn't give for a photo of herself and her father now. She looked at Hermione, and met an understanding smile.
"Oh, poor Mr. Bun-Bun!" said Mr. Tibblywibbles, eyes wide with horror. "Is he quite all right? Did he have to go in hospital?"
"Oh, yes!" said Miss Moppet, pouring out more tea and spilling a little, but Mr. Tibblywibbles threw a napkin over it. "He had to go in hospitabubble, and then, he had to have Sir Jerry!"
"Sir Jerry??" Mr. Tibblywibbles looked terribly puzzled by that, but then his eyes widened, and his lips started twitching suspiciously. He managed to swallow his tea, though it looked quite painful, and Miss Moppet inquired after him most solicitously. "No, no, I am quite all right, Miss Moppet. Please, tell me, how did Mr. Bun-Bun handle having Sir Jerry?"
"It was awful," said Miss Moppet. "There were stickers everywhere!!"
At this point, Mr. Tibblywibbles lost his dignity and his voice and burst out into most hearty, and masculine laughter.
"Daddy!"protested Herself, and she promptly tackled her father, knocking him off the chair and sitting on him as she found the tickle spots in his arm pits and made him wriggle and hoot with laughter. "Daddy, you're supposed to laugh like Mr. Tibblywibbles!!"
Harry looked up at her, hat askew, glasses crooked, and his mouth full of chartreuse feathers from his boa that he had to spit out. "I'm sorry, Lily, but sometimes, Daddy just has to laugh for himself."
"I know! It was pretty funny, but poor Mr. Bun-Bun!"
"Poor Mr. Bun-Bun!" echoed Harry faithfully, pulling his daughter into his arms and hugging her. "Shall we continue with tea? Or shall we go inside and see what Mummy has made for our real tea?"
"Are you so very hungry, Daddy?" Lily asked, and before he could reply, his stomach growled most alarmingly. "Oh, Daddy!" she said, eyes wide. "I think you have a load of garrumphs in your tum!"
Harry burst out laughing again, and got up, swinging Lily up over his head. "Then we shall ask your Mum if she has something to chase garrumphs out of the tum-tum!" They marched into the kitchen, chanting, "Garrumph, garrumph, garrumph, garrumph," and Ginny met them at the door, laughing and shaking her head at them. But Harry didn't mind. He wouldn't trade these moments for anything. Anything at all.
Author: auntbijou
Rating: G
Pairing: Harry, Lily (oh, for Pete's sake, y'all, it's a G-Rated fic!!!)
Summary:What a delight for Harry to discover the joys of having a daughter when it's time for a very special tea hosted by Herself.
Warning: Extreme cuteness
Words: 2, 348
Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful Potterverse, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Maybe if I offer her chocolate chip cookies??
A/N: I got this idea while, of all things, scrubbing out the bottom of the refrigerator. Hey, can you think of a better way to employ the disconnect in your brain while doing an unpleasant task? No, I didn't think so! Anyway, this is for all fathers with little daughters who take the time to stop and scrunch down on tiny chairs while wearing silly hats while holding wee little cups of dubious liquids and pretending to drink them with their little hostesses. You guys rock!
Harry looked at the words scribbled on his calender, not that he'd forget, and grinned. Tea party at 4 in the garden, it said. He got up, putting away the file he'd been working on, grabbing his cloak and the file folio on his desk. He'd been looking forward to this all week.
"Leaving, Potter?" said Robards, coming up to his cubicle with parchments in his hands.
"Yes," he said firmly, using his wand to tidy his desk and his area.
Robards frowned. "Potter, a new case just came in and I want you and Weasley..."
"Tomorrow, sir," said Harry with steel in his voice. Gone were the days where he would just do whatever was asked of him, no matter how he felt about it personally. "Right now, I have a date, and I do not want to be late. My hostess is not very understanding on that point."
"Look, Potter, I'm sure if you just explain it..."
"Sorry, sir, no can do," said Harry airily, grabbing his things and shrinking them to stow in his pocket. "Tomorrow. And that's my final word. If it can't wait, assign it to someone else." He picked up the apple Ginny had given him that morning, and bit into it as he threw his cloak over his shoulder and strode out of the office, not even sparing one look back as he left, a big smile on his face.
Robards turned to Weasley, who was staring after Harry, an amused smile on his face. "What's with him?" Robards asked, the wrinkles of the curse scar on his cheek puckering as he scowled at the red-head.
Ron laughed softly as he shuffled his parchments into line and slipped them into a file. "He's in love," he said simply.
The old Auror shook his head as he mentally shifted Aurors and their assignments in his head, calculating who would be free to take on the new case. "Potter's gone soft," he growled as he realized he would have to do as Potter had suggested, and wait until morning to assign the case. "He got married and he went soft."
"Thank goodness for that!" said Ron fervently as he finished sorting his own desk out and picked up his cloak.
"You leaving, too, Weasley?"
Ron Weasley grinned, and it wasn't a nice one. "Robards, you ever think to yourself there's a reason you aren't married?"
"Sure," Robards said with a grunt as he shifted the parchments under his arm and prepared to limp back to his office. "Women are picky, demanding, and always wanting you to do things, always wanting attention." He harrumphed as he glared at the now laughing younger man. "I'm better off without 'em."
"Exactly," said Ron, grinning as he picked up his own things. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Auror Robards, Hermione has made chocolate cake for dessert, and if I'm late, I won't get any." He started walking down the hall.
"Whipped," muttered the old Auror, grimacing at the spring in Ron's step.
Ron looked back over his shoulder before he turned the corner. "Think about it," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Really, when is being pussy-whipped ever a bad thing?" He licked his lips for emphasis, and disappeared around the corner, laughing heartily.
Robards grumbled, aware he was missing something, and refusing to think about it. He headed back to his office, where a bottle of Fire Whisky was calling his name.
Harry sat down carefully on the little wooden chair, laying his cloak on the handy garden fence.
"I do apologize for being late, Miss Moppet," he warbled contritely as he folded himself onto the chair, feeling very much as if his knees were about to bump his earlobes.
His hostess glared at him, then dissolved into dimples and giggles before she forced herself to look very solemn and grown-up. "That's quite all right, Mr. Tibblywibbles," she said, and handed him his hat.
Harry took it very solemnly, and perched it on top of his wildly errant hair where it wobbled for a moment before he steadied it with a cautious hand, pushing it back into place. It was a very elegant and lovely specimen of feminine millinery, having two bunches of trembling hyacinths topped by a rather ragged specimen of unidentifiable, moth-eaten bird. Probably a relic of Auntie Muriel's attic, thought Harry as he accepted the fluffy feather boa that he draped around his neck, as well as the hideously fashionable purple and green-flecked brooch that he pinned to his tie. "Ah," he said with a relieved sigh. "That feels much better!"
"You are looking much more like yourself, Mr. Tibblywibbles," said his hostess, and she handed him a tiny china cup of amber liquid. "Tea, Mr. Tibblywibbles?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, Miss Moppet," he said, accepting the cup and peering rather doubtfully into it. "Um... is this to drink, Miss Moppet, or just for pretend?"
Miss Moppet giggled. "The Cook supplied the tea, Mr. Tibblywibbles, so you can drink it."
"Ah," said Mr. Tibblywibbles, and he took a hesitant sip. When it didn't make his mouth pucker, he smiled. "Absolutely delicious, Miss Moppet," he said. "We shall have to thank Cook for making such scrumptious tea."
"And biscuits, too!" said Miss Moppet, lifting up a tea tray and holding it at a precarious angle to display the variety of biscuits and tea-cakes the ever so generous "Cook" had supplied them with. "I thought Albu... I mean, Mr. Snickerwidget would steal them before I could get them out to the table!"
"Really, Miss Moppet?" said Mr. Tibblywibbles as he sipped his tea, and fluffed up the boa around his neck. "That is simply terrible! Something must be done about the abominable Mr. Snickerwidget! We can't have Snickerwidgets stealing the biscuits for our tea, now can we?"
"No, not at all!" said Miss Moppet repressively. "Would you be so kind as to pour, Mr. Tibblywibbles? I have my hands full with the biscuits. I shall serve them while you pour the tea."
"Oh, yes, certainly, Miss Moppet! I'm honoured to pour the tea!" He picked up the tiny china teapot with the little golden Snitches flying around its fat belly and poured the tea into the two tiny cups while Miss Moppet set the tray down and busied herself arranging the biscuits and one tiny cake each on two plates.
Harry smiled, watching his little daughter as she arranged the cookies with all the fussiness of her grandmother Molly. He loved these moments with Lily and would never pass them up for anything, if he could help it. He loved his sons dearly, and cherished every single moment with them, but he had to admit, Lily, or Miss Moppet as she was calling herself at the moment, gave him the opportunities for sheer silliness that he had never had during his own childhood. Perhaps he shouldn't call them opportunities so much as... excuses. After all, neither Jamie, or Al would give him any reason to wear a ridiculous hat with feathers, flowers, and fowl upon it, though he did wear an elephant hat when Al's preschool studied circuses once. Nor would either of his boys expect him to sit in a tiny chair, or "dress" for high tea the way Lily did, or talk in a high, silly voice while balancing in that chair.
"Oh, Miss Moppet," he said in his high falsetto (Mr. Tibblywibbles was highly prone to indignant and rather squeaky bursts of speech).
"Yes, Mr. Tibblywibbles?" said Miss Moppet, handing him a wee plate with three biscuits piled shakily on it.
"Where can our dear Mr. Bun-Bun be? I'm so worried, because he's usually here so much earlier than me!" Harry managed to look both worried and delighted about the taste of the biscuit he was nibbling, even though he had to discreetly spit bit of bright pink feather from Miss Moppet's hat into his napkin.
"Well," said Miss Moppet with great relish, leaning toward him with her eyes sparkling with mischief as she put an elbow in one of the teacakes, though Mr. Tibblywibbles said nothing, "you see, Mr. Tibblywibbles, Mr. Bun-Bun had a bit of an accidental." She apparently missed the sudden hilarity in Mr. Tibblywibbles eyes and warmed to her story. "You see, he snuck into the kitchen, and..."
Hermione leaned back from the window and turned to look at Ginny, who was giggling into her own teacup.
"And they do this every Thursday?" said Hermione, fighting her own fit of the giggles.
"Every Thursday without fail!" said Ginny, putting her teacup down as she gave in to her laughter. "Oh, it's so funny! I mean, who would ever have thought Harry of all people!"
"I don't know," said Hermione thoughtfully, even though she was laughing as she peeked out the window again at the two, Harry listening intently to every word Lily said, expressions of mock horror on his face at regular intervals. "I mean, think of his own childhood, and all that he missed. I think he'd rather enjoy the opportunity to do something so silly and harmless as a tea party with his little girl." She looked back at Ginny. "I mean, think about it, he never misses an opportunity to play pirate with the boys, and look how he roped Ron into it!" She shook her head at the memory of Ron bellowing, "Shiver me timbers," and "Avast, me hearty!" at the top of his lungs while galloping through the orchard, a wooden sword in hand and four delighted little boys racing before him, squealing in mock panic as he threatened to run them through.
Ginny snorted and fell back in her chair, wiping laugh tears from her cheeks. "I thought Mum was going to have heart failure!"
Hermione laughed, too, then sighed. "Oh, Ginny, it's fine. So Harry's sitting in the garden wearing Auntie Muriel's ugliest wedding hat and a feather boa. It's all in good fun, and to tell you the truth, I remember my own father doing pretty much the same thing when I was small. And they're small for such a short time..."
"I know," said Ginny softly. She watched Harry wave his hands over his head in horror and realized Lily was probably regaling her father with the story of how her stuffed bunny fell into the cake batter when she had "helped" him take a closer look inside the bowl. Mr. Bun-Bun was currently hanging in the bathroom, waiting a second cleaning charm. "It's just... I want to take pictures, but... I don't want them to know, and... would it be all right, do you think?"
"Go ahead and take pictures, Gin," said Hermione with a soft smile. "You won't regret it, and one day, Harry will be absolutely delighted to see them. Give one to her as a gift on her wedding day."
Ginny laughed, then set her chin in her hand, staring out the window to watch her husband and her daughter go into yet another tizzy of gossip. "I think I'll do just that," she said softly, thinking of another father and daughter, sitting in the orchard at the Burrow, warded against invading brothers, and having high tea under the apple trees. What she wouldn't give for a photo of herself and her father now. She looked at Hermione, and met an understanding smile.
"Oh, poor Mr. Bun-Bun!" said Mr. Tibblywibbles, eyes wide with horror. "Is he quite all right? Did he have to go in hospital?"
"Oh, yes!" said Miss Moppet, pouring out more tea and spilling a little, but Mr. Tibblywibbles threw a napkin over it. "He had to go in hospitabubble, and then, he had to have Sir Jerry!"
"Sir Jerry??" Mr. Tibblywibbles looked terribly puzzled by that, but then his eyes widened, and his lips started twitching suspiciously. He managed to swallow his tea, though it looked quite painful, and Miss Moppet inquired after him most solicitously. "No, no, I am quite all right, Miss Moppet. Please, tell me, how did Mr. Bun-Bun handle having Sir Jerry?"
"It was awful," said Miss Moppet. "There were stickers everywhere!!"
At this point, Mr. Tibblywibbles lost his dignity and his voice and burst out into most hearty, and masculine laughter.
"Daddy!"protested Herself, and she promptly tackled her father, knocking him off the chair and sitting on him as she found the tickle spots in his arm pits and made him wriggle and hoot with laughter. "Daddy, you're supposed to laugh like Mr. Tibblywibbles!!"
Harry looked up at her, hat askew, glasses crooked, and his mouth full of chartreuse feathers from his boa that he had to spit out. "I'm sorry, Lily, but sometimes, Daddy just has to laugh for himself."
"I know! It was pretty funny, but poor Mr. Bun-Bun!"
"Poor Mr. Bun-Bun!" echoed Harry faithfully, pulling his daughter into his arms and hugging her. "Shall we continue with tea? Or shall we go inside and see what Mummy has made for our real tea?"
"Are you so very hungry, Daddy?" Lily asked, and before he could reply, his stomach growled most alarmingly. "Oh, Daddy!" she said, eyes wide. "I think you have a load of garrumphs in your tum!"
Harry burst out laughing again, and got up, swinging Lily up over his head. "Then we shall ask your Mum if she has something to chase garrumphs out of the tum-tum!" They marched into the kitchen, chanting, "Garrumph, garrumph, garrumph, garrumph," and Ginny met them at the door, laughing and shaking her head at them. But Harry didn't mind. He wouldn't trade these moments for anything. Anything at all.