Chapter Seventy-Two - Christmas Part 2: Harry

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Pulling in to King's Cross station, Harry and Draco kicked Ron out of the compartment. He was going to complain until Draco told him he could stay, but he would still be saying his good-byes to Harry. Then the blonde git pulled Harry against him. Yeah, he wasn't going to say anything. Harry asked if he'd help get Kyle and his things organized, like he needed something to do while they snogged. Whatever, he'll find the mini-Malfoy and get him ready, what's an uncle for?

He's actually not sure, his uncles died in the first war. He has his parent's cousins, but they're not as close. They're more of the wedding and funeral type relatives, which is fine. His family is big enough without the extended. Uncles are supposed to be fun or creepy, he'll be the fun uncle. Every time one of his muggle or half-blood friends mentioned the 'creepy uncle' they made it seem like it was creepy in a bad way. Not the horror movies and metal concerts creepy he thought it was. The look that Justin gave him when he said he'd rather be creepy then fun made him not want to ask the difference. Seamus pulled Justin aside and was whispering very quickly before they both laughed at him. Whatever, like muggles know everything. At least he's trying. He should probably send Seamus a Christmas gift for that, Justin looked disgusted with him. He'll ask Hermione the difference between the two.

"Uncle Ron." Kyle waves from the door. He's walking with that big Gryffindor he's dating, the little Hufflepuff, that Slytherin girl, and Blaise. Bloody hell, why is Blaise with them? At least he's not with Hermione, not that he minds, because he doesn't. They're just friends, she's allowed to make new friends and Blaise is her friend, because of course Blaise is her friend. Blaise and Goyle, if he could have bet on the two least likely people she'd become friends with, well, he'd probably have bet on Parkinson or stupid fucking Zacharias, that prat, if...

"Weasley."

Ron turns around with a smile on his face, "Greengrass."

"How are we going to do this?" Daphne asks, "If we're making enough biscuits, in enough varieties for all our friends and our families, that's going to take a long time. Do you want to come to mine or should I come to yours?"

"Blimey, I didn't think about that." Ron frowns running a hand through his hair, "How long do you think it'll take? I'll be honest, my mum is frantic around the hols, she'll be monopolizing the kitchen and if she doesn't, she'll want to be involved in the baking. What's your place going to be like?"

"My place is pretty reserved, but it'll be uncomfortable for you for other reasons." Daphne taps her chin, "Pansy's going to Japan, maybe she'll let us use her place?"

"Why would it be uncomfortable? Because I'm a blood traitor, is that why?"

"No, no, it's not that. My family was neutral in the war, they don't see you as a blood traitor. I don't think my parents care that much to be honest."

"Is it a money thing?"

"No, it's..." Daphne blushes, "Ron, your family is part of the Sacred 28. After Draco broke the marriage contract with Astoria my father became obsessed with us finding a different family of the 28 to marry us into. I'm pretty sure he's sent a contract to Ernie's family for Astoria, and one to Neville's for me. If I bring a Weasley home, well, it'll send the wrong message is all."

"My family doesn't do marriage contracts." Ron sighs, he hates pureblood politics.

"I know, and Astoria is unhappy. She doesn't want to marry Ernie. She likes that Nordstroke boy, but he's not of the 28 so father won't allow her to marry him. She can date and have fun, but as soon as he gets a contract signed, she'll have to break up with him."

"I think Neville's dating Hannah." Ron tilts his head, "Isn't he a Yaxley? They're of the 28."

"It doesn't count, he carries the Nordstroke name. It's not good enough for Father, and I already talked to Neville, there is no way I'm marrying him. He's nice but, yeah, there's no way." Daphne sighs, "I don't want to talk about this. What biscuits should we make?"

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