The Food of Love

Harry glanced nervously in the mirror, straightened his tie and glanced at the clock for the hundredth time. Four minutes to five - she'd soon be here. He began to rearrange the knick-knacks on the table below the mirror in an attempt to take his mind off the evening ahead. Why on earth had he agreed to this? He groaned inwardly.

Why should I be so wound up over this? he asked himself. After all, I've faced three-headed dogs, dragons and Dementors, not to mention Voldemort and his Death Eaters - what can they do to me that's worse than anything that's happened already? He sighed. He had to admit that at the moment he'd rather play fetch with Fluffy or do another round with the Hungarian Horntail than face Parvati's parents this evening.

He'd been dating Parvati for nearly a year now, ever since a chance meeting in Diagon Alley, and she'd brought him such a sense of 'normalness' and fun, something he'd not felt in a long, long time. The final battle against Voldemort had left him broken, empty and disillusioned. Despite the outcome and the Wizarding World once again hailing him as a hero, he felt that the cost had been too much; he'd turned into a virtual recluse for a few years. Since their meeting, Parvati had slowly reintroduced him to the world he'd left behind, and he'd realised just how much he'd missed it. He felt alive with her, accepted and loved, and he wouldn't change that for the world.

The doorbell rang, and Harry hurried to open it.

"Hi, Harry," she beamed, as he stepped to one side to let her in. She looked him up and down appraisingly. "Wow, you look good tonight. Thank you for making the effort - it means a lot to me."

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, and he felt himself flush slightly.

"You look beautiful too," he replied.

And it was true: In robes of emerald green with gold trimmings and matching ribbons braided through her dark hair, she looked stunning. She always did take care of her appearance, but this evening she positively shone.

"Shall we go then?" she asked, extending her hand to him. He entwined his fingers with hers.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Parvati frowned at him reproachfully. "They don't bite, you know." And then she added encouragingly, "It'll be fine - they're really looking forward to meeting you. And they're very laid back, honest."

Harry gave her a small, I'm-not-quite-sure-I-believe-you smile and squeezed her hand.

"Okay, let's go - I'll hold onto you, as you know where we're going."

They held tight to each other and Apparated. The feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube associated with Apparition was now familiar but still not pleasant. However, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather be squeezed through a tube with.

They emerged on a patch of wasteland on top of a hill. It was quite deserted. Below them stretched street upon street of little terraced houses, all with front doors opening straight onto the pavement and lights twinkling in the sash windows.

"This way," said Parvati, leading him down one of the streets to the right. A few houses down, she stopped and knocked on a shocking pink front door. It was hardly what Harry had expected - most wizards, he'd found, preferred living in secluded locations away from Muggle contact, but here, Parvati's parents lived side by side with Muggles.

The door was answered by a diminutive, grey-haired Asian woman in bright pink robes that matched the front door. Her face was leathery and wrinkled, but her eyes shone clearly and brightly out of it.

"Hello Nani, good to see you," said Parvati, hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry. Harry, this is my Grandma."

Harry's heart sank. It looked like he wasn't going to be meeting just the parents but the whole clan as well. He extended his hand to her in greeting, as she turned her piercing gaze on him. Rather than shaking it, she took it and held it flat between her two hands, not taking her eyes from his face. Harry felt uneasy, but held her gaze. After a few moments, she smiled and turned to Parvati.

"He has a tender heart, young one, and one with many unseen scars on it. But he has love that runs deep as the ocean too - he will suit you well."

And with that, she turned and went back inside the house, Parvati pulling a thoroughly embarrassed Harry along in her wake.

"Grandma's a Seer," she whispered as they closed the door behind them. "She's very well respected in the community here."

Harry nodded. That certainly made sense of Parvati's fascination with Divination while they were at school.

"At least she likes you!" she giggled, lacing her fingers through his once more. "C'mon," she motioned towards the front room, "Mum and Dad will be in here."

Harry held back and let Parvati go through the door first, stopping to clear his throat and straighten his tie.

"Parvati, darling, you're here at last!"

A dark-haired woman, just a little taller than the grandmother and wearing a deep red sari, came into view and hugged Parvati. Then a deep, booming voice toned from somewhere behind the door.

"There you are, Little Flower - but where is the young man?"

Harry nervously shuffled forward into the room. It was dimly lit by candles and firelight; the dark walls were lined with books, giving it a warm, cosy feel.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet my Mum and Dad. Papa, Mama, this is Harry Potter."

Harry wasn't sure what to expect. Part of him expected the familiar flick of the eyes to his forehead, ingratiation and false smiles; another part expected suspicion, anger even, at his audacity in daring to date their only remaining daughter.

A man as big as the voice and with a walrus moustache to match levered himself out of the armchair in the corner and shook Harry's hand warmly, smiling widely. He didn't glance up at Harry's scar at all.

"Please, sit yourself down and make yourself at home."

He beckoned Harry towards the empty armchair next to his own. Harry obligingly perched himself on the edge of the seat, and Parvati sat on the sofa next to her mother. There was an awkward silence, where Harry looked firstly down at his fingers, then his shoes, then at the clock over the fireplace, and finally over at Parvati. He was surprised to see her smirking across at him, looking totally relaxed. He could also see her mother exchange glances with her husband. Suddenly there was a loud laugh from beside Harry, and her father clapped him heartily on the back.

"Oh, Harry, my boy, you look like you're awaiting execution or something! Relax, we're not going to interrogate you!" he boomed.

Harry felt the colour rise in his face.

Just then Parvati's grandmother popped her head round the door and announced that tea was ready. He was rather grateful for the distraction.

"Let's go through to the other room then, shall we?" said Mrs Patil, rising to her feet and going to the door.

They followed her into the dining room, where a large table was laid for them, a huge candelabra in the centre. The candles were most definitely the magical variety, he noted from the flames, which were burning very vivid, un-candle-like colours and changing frequently.

The five of them took their places at the table, and Grandma summoned the serving dishes from the kitchen. They flew in through the door and arranged themselves neatly on the table.

This was the other bit of the evening that Harry had been apprehensive about : the food. Uncle Vernon's taste had always been conservative in the extreme, and he had never held with trying any of 'that foreign muck', as he called it, so while he was growing up, he'd never even tasted a slice of pizza, let alone anything more exotic. And the Hogwarts food had been pretty traditional too, apart from the excessive use of pumpkin products. So he wasn't really looking forward to trying spicier food, for fear of offending his hosts. This concern had deepened still further when Parvati had told him her parents were strict vegetarians - for him, meals generally centred around what to put with whatever cut of meat he'd acquired that day, and he couldn't picture a full meal without meat.

However, the aromas rising from the tureens on the table, though different, did smell good though, and Harry was rather hungry.

"Do serve yourself with whatever you'd like, Harry," Mrs Patil said, passing him a large bowl of fragrant rice.

"Thank you," he replied, taking the bowl and putting a sizeable helping onto his plate. This, at least, was something he knew he'd be okay with. When he put the bowl back down on the table, the bowl spun round to stop in front of Parvati, and another one took its place. He took helpings from a couple of the tureens, then looked around and waited for everyone else to fill their plates, uncertain of the etiquette he should follow. When Parvati picked up a fork, he followed suit.

First he tried a forkful of rice mixed with a bit of some kind of cauliflower dish. It was pretty hot, and he almost choked on it as the chilli caught his throat. He gulped down some water, trying to remain as inconspicuous as he could in the circumstances, and moved on to try the other dish on his plate. He wasn't quite sure what was in this one - it consisted of lot of light-coloured, small, round things that looked a bit like overgrown peas in a sauce that obviously had a lot of onion and tomato in it. He tentatively tasted it and was pleasantly surprised. It was spicy, sure, but subtly so rather than hot, and it gave a nice, warm sensation to his throat and stomach as it went down.

"Mmm, this is good - what is it?" he asked.

"It is called Khatte chhole, the little grandmother replied. "It is made with chickpeas - a long-time family favourite. You like it?"

Harry nodded.

"You have good taste, young man." She wagged her finger at him, her bright eyes meeting his again and making him feel uncomfortable. "Chickpeas are the food of love - see the shape of them, like little hearts. You take this dish into your heart, and love will follow you all your life."

He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"Mama, that's enough please."

Mrs Patil's voice was very firm as she addressed her mother. The little old woman hesitated a moment, then nodded genially and got on with eating her meal.

"I feel I should explain, Harry," Parvati's mum said to him in a softer tone. "When I first took Sanjeev home to meet my parents, my father questioned him about his prospects in front of all my aunts and uncles, as well as the family ghosts and portraits. And my dear brother teased me for days beforehand that he would slip some Veritaserum into Sanjeev's soup, just to see what would come out. We were nervous wrecks by the end of the night! We swore we would never put any child of ours through anything like it. I'm sorry if my mother has made you feel uncomfortable with her words."

"That's alright," Harry answered, "really." And, taking another forkful of the chickpeas, he found he meant it.

Mr Patil then asked Harry about what he enjoyed doing in his spare time, and the conversation inevitably led to Quidditch, of Harry's earlier prowess as a Seeker and of his love for flying. It also led, more surprisingly, to Mr Patil's avid interest in cricket, which Harry, to his great astonishment, found he could remember a lot about from listening to Uncle Vernon's rantings as a child. Then they embarrassed Parvati by recounting stories of her antics as a child. Harry laughed long and hard at their tales, as Parvati grew progressively redder in the face. He even told them a few stories about Parvati at school as well. He told them about the time she and Lavender had tried one of Fred and George's products on their hair, because it promised 'a shine second to none', only to find their hair turned to a rather gaudy bronze colour that they couldn't reverse. After three days, they'd swallowed their pride enough to go and see Madam Pomfrey, who was most scathing about their vanity but returned their hair to normal colour in less than twenty minutes. Parvati scowled at him and thumped him under the table for that one.

Harry found himself relaxing more and more into the conversation and the company as the evening wore on, and even his early wariness of the Seer grandmother was eventually eroded by her good nature and humour. He felt accepted by them for who he was rather than for his reputation, and that warmed his heart more than the spices in the food he'd eaten. When he eventually Apparated home, shortly after midnight, he felt happy, not only to be with Parvati, but to be part of her family too.