
Questions and Answers (Incomplete)
ONE -- What Can I Say?
2 September 2017
Dear Mum and Dad,
I was Sorted into Gryffindor! The Sorting Hat didn't even mention Slytherin. The ride in the boats wasn't very scary at all, but the Giant Squid nudged the boat next to mine. I know what you're going to say, Dad. I shouldn't have worried because James just lives to wind me up all the time.
Funny thing, though, Dad. People kept pointing and whispering. Not just at me, but at Rosie, too. Why is that? Why were all those people staring at the train yesterday? I noticed that when we went to Diagon Alley to get my school things, too. Have they always done that and I'm just seeing it now?
There's this other boy in my year -- Scorpius Malfoy -- that got Sorted into Gryffindor, too. He doesn't seem too happy about it. He wouldn't talk to anyone last night at dinner or in the dormitory.
I'll owl you soon and let you know how my classes are.
Love,
Al
p.s. -- Mum, I forgot my extra jumper in the car. Could you send it to me? It's colder up here than at home.
Albus Potter tied the letter to a school owl and watched as it flew out the window. It was somewhat early on a Saturday morning, but Albus wasn't one to have a lie-in. He heard a rustle in the straw behind him, and spun around, not expecting anyone else to be up so soon. It was Scorpius. He called an owl down to him, tied a letter to its leg, and sent the owl off, watching it fly through the circular window, much as Al had done, albeit with a much more pensive expression.
Al openly stared at Scorpius. He had never seen anyone so... pale... before. All his Weasley uncles all had various shades of red hair, like Ginny and Lily, as did Arthur, Molly, and his grandmother Lily. Fleur was blonde like that, but she had something of a glow about her. Katie had golden hair, and Penny's was light brown. Bronwyn was dark, like Harry, James, his grandfather James, and him. And Teddy... well, Teddy could have hair any color he wanted, but was usually some eye-straining shade of turquoise. Al idly wondered if Scorpius ever went outside. Ginny and Molly made them go outside during the summers. Al mentally shook himself. Ginny said it was rude to stare at people, but Scorpius didn't seem to notice Al's scrutiny.
'What?' Scorpius snapped.
Albus jumped. It seemed Scorpius had noticed. 'N-n-nothing,' Al stammered.
'Staring at the misfit Malfoy?' A hint of bitterness crept into Scorpius' voice.
'No,' said Al truthfully. 'Just spent most of my life around redheads.' He gestured toward Scorpius' white-blonde hair. 'Haven't seen many that... blonde...' Al finished lamely. He turned to leave the Owlery.
'My father is not going to be happy when he gets my letter.' Scorpius voice made Al pause.
'Why?'
'All Malfoys are Sorted into Slytherin,' Scorpius explained softly. 'And here I am, a bloody Gryffindor.' Scorpius started to leave. 'I'm sure he'll send a Howler. Embarrassment to the family and all,' he mocked, scrambling down the stairs of the Owlery. Scorpius headed toward the lake, with Al trailing behind. He couldn't imagine getting a Howler from his father. Ginny had sent one to James last year, but that was only because James threw a dragon liver at someone else in Potions, and it had hit Professor Williams, the teacher, in the back of the head. Ginny had been livid, while Harry had been rather amused by it all. James had a temper, and it usually got him into some sort of trouble, more than his pranking with Fred and Jacob did.
Scorpius stopped by the lake and sat on the bank, staring moodily across the water. 'There have only been two others in my family who weren't in Slytherin, besides me. And both of them were disowned.'
'Really? Who were they?' Al asked, alight with curiosity.
'Well, they were both cousins on my grandmother's side. One of them was her cousin, Sirius Black. He went into Gryffindor. The other was her niece, Nymphdora Something. I think she went into Hufflepuff. But we don't talk about them,' he said in a voice that intimated it was a horrible family secret.
'I know Sirius and Nymphadora!' Al said excitedly. Scorpius raised a pale eyebrow, and said nothing. 'Yeah, Sirius was my dad's godfather. He died years before I was born, though. Dora is my... well, Teddy is my dad's godson, and Dora was his mother. She died in the battle of Hogwarts in the second war. Both her and Teddy's father.' Scorpius stared at him in open-mouthed shock.
'You know them?' he sputtered.
'Well, yeah. They're family,' insisted Al.
'They may be blood-relations of mine,' Scorpius said shortly, 'but they're not family.' Al's mind reeled. He could not imagine not speaking to anyone in his family. 'I don't want to be someone my family never speaks of,' whispered Scorpius. 'Can't they change what House I'm in?' he asked desperately.
'It shouldn't matter what House you're in,' said Al, standing up, and brushing the grass from the seat of his jeans. 'It's the choices you make in life,' he said, parroting his father's words from the day before. He left Scorpius sitting morosely on the shore of the lake, and went inside the castle for breakfast.
A barn owl tapped imperiously on the kitchen window of the Potter house. Ginny looked up from the Saturday newspaper, eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar owl. She set the paper down and went to the window, opening it to let the owl into the kitchen. It flew to the perch in the corner, and held out its leg. Ginny untied the letter and offered the owl some water and a handful of owl treats before glancing down at the envelope. It was Al's promised letter from school. She propped it against the vase in the middle of the table. It could wait until Harry came home. There had been reports of a band of neo-Death Eaters somewhere in Ireland. He hated to go work on weekends, if he didn't have to, but he needed to strategize with the Auror team who had been assigned to spy on the group.
'It's too quiet in here!' came her daughter's voice in protest from the sitting room, where she was lying on her stomach on the hearth rug, reading for a class in her Muggle primary school.
'Get used to it. They won't be back until Christmas,' Ginny replied, taking the newspaper into the sitting room.
'I could start playing the drums,' Lily suggested brightly.
'Over my dead body,' retorted Ginny.
'But Mum, don't you want me to become the next drummer for the Weird Sisters?' Lily wheedled.
'Not especially.'
'I thought you liked the Weird Sisters.'
'I do. I'm just not sure I want my child to be one of them.'
'Hear from Al yet?' Lily changed the subject.
'Yes. We just got a letter.'
'What did it say?' Lily bounced up from the rug and landed on the sofa next to Ginny.
'I don't know yet,' Ginny laughed. 'I'm waiting for your father to come home so we can read it together.'
'Oh.' Lily frowned in disappointment.
'Don't worry, Lily. He'll be home later.'
'When will that be?' Lily retrieved her textbook from the hearth rug and rejoined Ginny on the sofa.
Ginny rubbed her temples slowly. 'I don't know,' she confessed. 'Dinner, hopefully.' She patted Lily's knee. 'If he's not home by then, you and I can read it.'
Satisfied, Lily opened the book and resumed her reading. Ginny tried to read the newspaper, but her attention was repeatedly drawn to the waiting letter, holding news of her youngest son's Sorting. She was almost as anxious as Lily to read its contents. Even though Harry had assured him it didn't matter, Ginny knew the idea of Al going into Slytherin made them both cringe a little.
Harry pasted a smile on his face while Ginny read Al's letter during dinner. But inwardly, he winced at the questions Al had asked. They were the same ones he'd attempted to ask when they had gone to Diagon Alley to buy his things for school, but Harry had brushed them off with noncommittal murmurs. Ever since James was born, he'd tried to keep his past -- his exploits, as Hermione drolly called them -- quiet from his children. At least until they were older. Much, much older. Of age older.
If nothing else, he had wanted James, Al, and Lily to have as normal a childhood as possible, without the burden of being Harry Potter's children on top of it all.
Most of the Weasleys didn't talk about any of the things that had happened before or during the last war. In fact, they hadn't really said anything to their own children, either. Fred and Jacob had once asked George why he was missing an ear. George merely told them it was an accident and hastily changed the subject.
Ginny folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. Harry silently cleared the table and began to wash the dishes in the Muggle way. Ginny noticed the deliberate way he methodically washed each plate or glass and stacked them on the counter to dry. She sent Lily upstairs and picked up a dry tea towel from a drawer and began to dry the dishes. 'I know this letter has you spooked,' she said casually. Harry shrugged in reply. 'It's going to be a lot harder to keep everything from them now,' she continued. Another shrug. 'We're going to have to tell them sooner or later.'
'No.'
Ginny put the plate she had just dried away and set the towel down. She reached over and forcibly removed the plate that Harry had determinedly been trying to wash the pattern off and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. 'Would you rather they learned about it from us, or someone else?' she asked. They heard a faint pop as someone Apparated beyond the back garden gate.
Harry pulled himself out of Ginny's grip and went into his office. He slammed the door closed and paced restlessly around the small room. He skidded to a stop and punched the wall behind his desk, trying to splinter the oak paneling. Grimacing at the pain in his fist, he did it again. And again. He started to punch the wall one more time, but the sight of his bleeding and rapidly swelling knuckles made him pull the punch. He stood there, cradling his injured hand, staring at the wall, panting from his bout with it, raging inwardly that his past was going to pull his children into its tide. 'Hand hurts, does it?' drawled a voice behind him.
Harry spun on his heel. Ron stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 'A bit,' he allowed.
Ron pulled his wand from a pocket and aimed it carefully at Harry's hand. 'Episkey,'he murmured.
Harry flexed his hand a few times. 'You've gotten good at that,' he remarked.
'Thanks. Comes in handy at the shop.' Ron dropped into a battered armchair and draped his legs over the side. 'Want to tell me why you're trying to tear out a wall with your bare hands?'
'Al sent a letter home.'
'So did Rosie. Asked a bunch of questions about why there's a memorial to Fred in the Great Hall. And why people kept staring at us at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She also wondered why it got dead quiet when she and Al went to be Sorted.'
'Ginny reckons we need to tell them.'
'So does Hermione.'
'Damn. I hate it when they're both right like that.' Harry gave a half-hearted smirk, and sat heavily in the chair next to Ron, stretching his feet out in front of him, letting his head fall back. 'I wanted to wait. I didn't want them to know all that so soon...' He trailed off, not sure how to complete his thought.
Ron looked at him sideways and asked, 'What have you told them? You've had to tell them something...'
'Not much. Just that we fought in the last war to get rid of a man who had ideas about how wizards and witches should be.'
'So... nothing about the Philosopher's Stone?'
'No,' said Ginny, who had been standing in the doorway. 'Nothing about the Chamber, either.'
'Or the Triwizard,' added Harry.
'Or the Department of Mysteries,' said Ginny.
'Not the first battle at Hogwarts.' Harry met her eyes.
'Or the second battle.' Ginny walked into the office and came to stand next to Harry's chair.
Harry reached for his wife's hand. 'Nor the Horcruxes, or Hallows, either,' he added as an afterthought.
'Remind me again how we reached adulthood?' Ron said.
'Sheer dumb luck, I think,' replied Harry.
Ginny folded herself to the floor at Harry's feet, her head resting on his knees. 'We should tell them,' she said. 'All of them.'
'Ginny...' protested Harry weakly.
Ginny looked up and felt her throat close at the pained expression on Harry's face. 'We have to,' she said pleadingly. 'We can't keep it from them anymore. Not with so many at school now.'
Harry pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. 'All right,' he said simply. 'Do we write a letter, go up to Hogwarts...?'
'Christmas,' Ron said. 'When we can get them all in the same room at the same time. Then we only have to do it the one time. They can wait that long. And it buys us some time...'
Dear Al,
Your mum and I are thrilled that you're in Gryffindor! And Rosie, too.
We know there are a lot of things you want to know. And we're going to tell you. I promise. Just hang on until the Christmas holidays and we'll answer anything you might want to ask.
And be nice to Scorpius Malfoy. He's in for a rough ride...
Mum will send your jumper on Monday.
Love,
Dad
After Sunday lunch at the Burrow the next day, the children still at home were sent outside to play in the paddock. The adults lingered around the table with cups of tea, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to bring up their plan.
'What's up with the four of you?' Charlie asked suspiciously. 'You're acting like a Kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs.'
'We got letters from Al and Rosie,' Ron said, with a sidelong glance at Ginny and Harry.
'They have a few questions,' interjected Ginny.
'Lots of questions,' added Harry.
'We,' Hermione said, indicating the other three, 'feel we should tell all of them everything.'
'Do you think they're old enough?' asked Molly.
'Will they ever be?' said Harry, dully.
Bill studied the scarred tabletop. 'They should hear it from us and not a History of Magic class,' he said to Molly, leaning his chair nonchalantly on its back two legs.
'You mean none of you have told them the whole story before they went to school?' asked Arthur in amazement. All the heads around the table shook their heads no. 'You're all barking,' he said mildly.
'We didn't want to burden them with it, Dad,' defended George.
'I thought I raised you to be smarter than that,' said Arthur.
'What do the rest of you think?' Harry asked. 'Katie? Bronwyn? Penny? Fleur?'
'It's about time,' said Bronwyn. 'I've wanted to explain things to our lot for ages. I'm running out of ways to change the subject with Isabella.'
Katie nodded in agreement. 'It's kind of difficult to send them off to school, knowing you can't control what anyone else will say. And one of Al's yearmates is Malfoy's son?'
'Yes. In Gryffindor, too.'
'Wow,' said Penny. 'That's a surprise.'
'We were sort of waiting for a signal from you, Harry,' said Charlie. 'Seeing as how most of it's about you.'
'But it isn't about me!' Harry protested. 'I couldn't have done it without help.'
'None of us had to die, mate,' pointed out Ron quietly.
'So, is Christmas okay with everyone?' asked Ginny, sensing things were taking a downward turn.
'It's fine, Ginny,' said Bill.
Harry felt as if the walls were closing on him, making it difficult for him to breathe. 'Fancy a fly, Ron?' he asked, too casually, before heading for the broomshed. Without waiting for Ron, Harry kicked off the ground, flying like he did in school.
Ginny stood in the paddock, shading her eyes with her hand. Katie came to stand next to her, familiar with the ways in which reliving the war made one behave. 'Is he going to be all right?' Katie asked.
'He will be,' Ginny replied with much more confidence than she felt.
Harry didn't speak much after lunch, and stayed quiet the rest of the afternoon, retreating to the bedroom he shared with Ginny as soon as they Flooed back to their house. 'Mum?' whispered Lily.
'Yes, sweetie?'
'Is Dad okay?' Lily's face creased in a worried frown.
'Yes, Lily, he's fine. Just has a lot on his mind right now.' Ginny wrapped an arm around Lily's shoulders. 'Do you have any homework left for school?'
'Mum, why do I have to go to a Muggle primary school?' Lily's mutinous expression was eerily familiar.
'Lily...' sighed Ginny. 'Not tonight, all right? You've only got two more years left until you can go to Hogwarts.' She ran a hand through her hair. Homework?' she asked pointedly.
'No, Mum. I finished it yesterday.'
'Good. Go on up to bed, all right?'
'Fine. Good-night, Mum.'
'Night, Lils.' Ginny kissed her daughter and followed her up the stairs. She turned at the top of the stairs to her bedroom. Harry stood in front of a window, hands braced on the sides. She slipped her arms around his waist, feeling the tension begin to drain from his shoulders. 'I know why it bothers you, but you knew we'd have to do this eventually...'
Harry sighed and turned to face Ginny, as he perched on the windowsill. 'Do you remember the Triwizard? And the year after?'
'Vividly.'
'Do you remember the looks and the rumors? Like I had gone crazy?' Ginny nodded. 'I don't want to see those looks on the faces of my children.'
'You won't,' she murmured, and began to pull him to their bed.
'How do you know?' he asked harshly, allowing her to tow him along.
'Harry,' she began, resting her forehead against his. 'It won't change how they feel about you. Because who you are to them isn't going to change. You will still be their dad. But at least they will know who you were and how you got here. They deserve that.'
Harry cupped the back of Ginny's head and kissed her. 'I don't deserve you,' he said against her lips.
'True,' she teased. 'But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.'
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Ginny down to his lap. 'Why do you put up with me again?'
'Because I need you. And you need me.'
'Ginny?'
'Mmmm?'
'I love you.'
'I love you, too.'
Dear Mum and Dad,
Why do we have to wait until Christmas? Can't you just write to us?
Rosie
Dear Rosie
I know you're feeling impatient and that we're trying to brush you off, but the kinds of answers you deserve should be given to you in person.
I promise, we'll answer every question you might have the best we can.
Is it true Scorpius Malfoy was Sorted in Gryffindor?
Mum
Rose wadded up the letter from Hermione and stuffed it into her schoolbag. 'What did they tell you?' she asked Al and James.
'Same thing they said to you. Keep your hair on and all that,' James said, pushing his empty plate to the side. 'Did either of you know Dad and Uncle Ron got special awards?' he asked suddenly.
'No,' said Rose. 'How did you know that?'
'Went into the trophy room on a free period last year. And there they were. Plaques with the names of Harry J. Potter and Ronald B. Weasley engraved on them.'
'Did you ask Dad about it?' asked Al.
'Tried to, during the Easter hols, but he changed the subject.'
'We'll need to remember that one, then,' said Rose briskly.
The rest of the Weasley cousins gathered at their end of the table, dragging Parker from the Hufflepuff table. 'Did you get a weird letter from home?' demanded Jacob, as he fell into the bench, loading his plate with food. Parker, Victoire, Madeline, and Isabella all nodded.
'I wonder what's going on,' Isabella said frowning.
'There's obviously some sort of secret they'd like to tell us later,' stated Parker loftily, earning hoots from his cousins. 'They've likely come up with some sort of plan, and are trying to stay on the same page.'
'You don't honestly think every single one of our parents is actively keeping secrets from us?' snorted Fred. 'That's almost way too coordinated for our family.'
'Yeah, I don't think we're capable of keeping secrets without a good Fidelius as a whole,' observed Madeline.
'You know...' began Victoire. 'Now that you mention it, every time we ask them something about their days in school, especially Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron, Aunt Ginny, or Aunt Hermione, they all find something that has to be done immediately.'
'Right,' said James firmly. 'Rosie, get out some parchment and a quill,' he ordered. 'We're going to start making a list of things we want to know.' He waited for Rose to unearth a spare scroll of parchment and a usable quill from her bag. 'First thing... Where did Dad get that scar on his forehead?'
The others gathered closer and began to murmur questions to add to the growing list.
TWO -- Ordinary or a Hero?
Rose impatiently slammed the cover of her copy of Hogwarts, A History closed. The most recent event was some thirty years ago, ages before her parents had started school. She scrambled off the sofa in the Gryffindor common room and headed for the portrait hole. 'Rosie, where are you going? Curfew soon,' warned Isabella.
'Library. I'll be back in time,' Rose replied over her shoulder, as the Fat Lady's portrait swung shut. Rose jogged to the library and headed for the history section, slightly out of breath. She search for a book she had seen a book a few days ago that looked promising. There it was. Famous Witches and Wizards of the Twentieth Century. She opened it to the index, her finger racing down the page. And there was a treasure trove of information. An entry of Weasley, and under it the names of Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Fred, Ron and Ginny. Frowning, she turned a few pages and found an entry for Potter and saw three names under it: James, Lily, and Harry. Rose held her breath and turned a few more pages, until she found Granger, Hermione.
Rose rushed to the counter with the book and checked it out with only a small 'Hmmmph,' from Madam Pence. It was getting close to nine and curfew for the first and second years, so Rose sprinted back to the common room, clutching the heavy book to her chest.
She stood in front of the Fat Lady panting, 'Felix Felicis.' Rose climbed through the portrait hole, struggling with the unwieldy book and dropped it on the table where Victoire and Madeline were doing their homework. 'Have you seen this?' she asked. 'They're all in it! All of them.'
'Really?' Victoire turned the book around and glanced at the title. 'I must have seen that a million times and never bothered to look inside it...'
'What does it say?' asked Madeline eagerly.
'Not much. It says that the Weasleys were in an organization called the Order of the Phoenix in the second war with some Dark wizard called Voldemort, and Dad, Mum, and Uncle Harry were instrumental in helping defeat Voldemort and end the war. It does say when they updated the book, the family refused any and all interviews.' Rose paused to take a breath, and her gaze zeroed on James and Al. 'Did you know your dad survived the Killing curse? That's how he got that scar on his forehead.'
Al's mouth dropped open. 'B-b-but nobody survives a Killing curse,' he said weakly. 'That's why it's called a Killing curse...'
'Apparently Uncle Harry did,' said Rose smugly. 'When he was barely a year old. After that Voldemort sort of disappeared for thirteen years. He came back in June of nineteen ninety-five. And three years later, he was dead.'
'Who killed him, then?' asked Fred.
'Uncle Harry,' said Rose promptly. 'Well, he didn't really kill him. Voldemort sort of killed himself. His curse bounced off a Disarming charm Uncle Harry cast, and it went back to hit Voldemort.' Rose paused long enough to draw breath. 'At least that's what it says in the book.'
'Victoire, how did you not know any of this?' asked Jacob in amazement.
'Why do I have to know everything?'
'You're the oldest,' said Fred matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.
Victoire shrugged. 'Dad never said anything about it. He won't talk about anything regarding the war. Maybe they all just wanted to move on with their lives. And N.E.W.T. --level History of Magic never manages to get past the nineteenth century. At least not while Binns was teaching it. And history's not my favorite subject.'
'I still don't see how they could just go on for almost twenty years, and keep it to themselves like that,' Jacob said mulishly.
'Jacob, would you look at Uncle Harry differently now that you know even this much?' asked Victoire. 'Or even your own dad?'
'Well, yeah, I mean, he's a hero!'
'That's exactly why I think they've kept this to themselves,' Victoire replied gently.
Jacob's brow furrowed in confusion. 'I guess I just don't understand,' he began. 'Why wouldn't they want us to know all of this? It's brilliant!'
'Well,' Victoire said slowly, 'Would you rather have a hero or a real person for a family member? Just think about it for a bit, eh?' With that, she went up to the seventh-year girls' dormitory. The rest of the cousins soon headed for their beds, except for Al and James. Al took more time than usual in packing his things in his bag, lost in his thoughts until he noticed James staring sightlessly at his hands.
'You okay, James?'
'Yeah. I don't know whether to be angry that they kept this from us, or to try and see it from Victoire's standpoint.'
'James?'
'Yeah?'
'Do you think we would have treated Dad differently?'
'I dunno, Al,' James said dully. 'Maybe.'
'Kind of hard to match the person in that book with Dad, isn't it?' commented Al.
'Yeah. Dad's just so...'
'Ordinary?'
'Yeah... Ordinary,' agreed James. He pushed his chair back, yawning. 'Going to bed?'
'In a little bit. I've got an essay for Defense to finish.' James nodded and went upstairs, making a conscious effort to not comment on the fact Al had just packed all his books and notes away. Al picked up the book Rose abandoned on the table and opened it to the entry about Harry.
Potter, Harry James -- (31 July 1980-present) The only known survivor of the Killing curse -- October 31, 1981, marked him with a lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead; winner of the Triwizard Tournament in 1995; leader of student group known at Dumbledore's Army in 1995-96; battle at the Department of Mysteries in 1996; First Battle of Hogwarts in 1997; defeated Lord Voldemort at the Second Battle of Hogwarts in 1998 with a Disarming charm that caused Voldemort's Killing Curse to rebound against him; youngest Auror in history; currently Head of the Auror Department; married Ginevra Weasley in 2000. (refused to participated in an interview for newest update)
Al closed the heavy book and leaned back in the chair. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into them. Crying wasn't going to answer anything. Albus felt something simmering in his stomach. Guilt, for feeling as if they were going behind their parents' backs, and something akin to betrayal.
Al went up to his dormitory and went to bed. He picked up a framed photograph of his parents, James, himself, and Lily and studied his father's face.
Just who was his father anyway? The hero in that book downstairs; or, the man who took them for surreptitious rides on his racing broom or motorbike when Ginny wasn't home and made sure he and James washed up before dinner? He thought about the time he had drawn a lightening bolt on his forehead with Mum's lipstick when he was nine, so he could be like his father. He remembered how shocked Harry had been when he ran into the shed that housed the old motorbike. Harry had been tinkering with the bike's engine, and when he looked up and saw Al standing in the doorway, crowing, 'Look, Dad, I can be just like you!' Harry had dropped the heavy spanner on his foot. After a few muffled curses about crushed toes, Harry forced a laugh and wiped the lipstick off his forehead.
'You don't want to be like me,' Harry had said. 'I got into way too much trouble in school.'
Al gently placed the photograph back on its place on his night table. He lay awake far into the night, eyes burning, staring at the canopy of his four-poster.
The next morning, found Al sitting in the empty Potions classroom. It wasn't that Al was overly fond of Potions. Not that Professor Williams frightened him, but he was intimidating with that deep voice and tall stature. Besides, the room smelled funny. He had skipped breakfast and the pervasive odor of herbs and potions gone wrong made him nauseated. He was early to his class because Al wasn't in the mood to deal with his cousins and their endless speculations about their parents. The door creaked open and Scorpius sidled in the room. 'Can I sit here?' he asked, tentatively, indicating the vacant chair next to Al.
'Sure.' The empty classroom was filled with the soft sounds of Scorpius setting up his cauldron and potions kit for class. 'Have you heard from your parents yet?' Al asked.
'No. I thought...' Scorpius shook himself. 'It doesn't matter.'
'Why don't you come sit with us at lunch today?' The question flew out of Albus' mouth, quite without thought.
'Us?'
'Yeah. Me, my brother, my cousins. Well, except for Parker. He's in Hufflepuff.' Al stated, matter-of-factly.
'Did he get a Howler?'
'What? No! You only get Howlers in my family when you do something stupid. Like throw potions ingredients at other people.' Al swore he heard something like a laugh come from the vicinity Professor Williams' desk, but he dismissed it.
'Oh.' Scorpius studied the boy next to him from the corner of his eyes for a moment before asking, 'So it's not a bad thing to be in a different House than the one in which your family has traditionally been Sorted?'
'Nope. I guess it can be difficult when you're in a family that doesn't like it when you're different...'
'Different?'
'Yeah, well take Teddy, my dad's godson. His dad was a werewolf and his mum was a Metamorphmagus. Different isn't enough to describe Teddy. My aunt Fleur is part Veela. Aunt Hermione, Rosie's mum, is a Muggle-born. Uncle George is missing an ear. Granddad is nutters about Muggles.' Al shrugged. 'We're all different.'
'Your family is weird,' Scorpius corrected.
'You don't know the half of it,' muttered Al.
Their conversation came to an end when the rest of the class scrambled in from breakfast. Al waved Rose over to their table, introducing his cousin to their yearmate. The easy banter between Rose and Al made Scorpius smile for the first time since he got onto the train last week.
The book still lay on the table in the common room after dinner, a silent beacon calling to Al. He opened it gingerly, like it was printed on Exploding Snap cards and might blow up at any moment. He turned directly to the entry for Ginny.
Weasley, Ginevra Molly -- (11 August 1981 -- present) Member of student group Dumbledore's Army 1995-1996; 1997-1998 (leader of group 1997-1998); Battle at the Department of Mysteries in 1996, First Battle of Hogwarts in 1997; Second Battle of Hogwarts in 1998; Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies from 1999-2003; currently senior Quidditch reporter and columnist of The Daily Prophet; married to Harry Potter in 2000. (refused to participated in an interview for newest update)
'Rosie?' he called across the room.
'Yeah?' She didn't look up from her Transfiguration textbook.
'Add the Triwizard Tournament to our list.' Al's eyes went back to the book. 'And the Department of Mysteries, something called Dumbledore's Army, and both of the battles at Hogwarts.'
Rose nodded and pulled a piece of parchment from her schoolbag, added the items to their ongoing list, and looked back at Al. 'Anything else?'
'Not right now.' Al sighed and pulled out his Transfiguration notes. He was sure Professor Trentham was going to give them a test tomorrow. He had managed to Transfigure his matchstick to a needle, but it gave him splinters. The only ones in the class that had achieved transforming the matchstick into a workable needle were Rose and Scorpius.
At breakfast the following morning, Scorpius sleepily piled eggs and potatoes on his plate. The daily rush of owls bringing mail caught his attention, and he automatically looked up. If he could have grown any paler, he would have. His mother's small tawny owl landed in front of him. Scorpius took the letter, gave the owl a few crusts from his toast, and held the letter for several long moments before deciding to rip it open quickly. Like pulling off a plaster...
Dear Scorpius,
I won't try to hide it from you. Your father was rather... upset to receive your news that you have been Sorted into Gryffindor.
I, however, am delighted. I hope that Gryffindor will help you grow up into the kind of man you were meant to be. You were never meant to be in Slytherin, my son. I knew that when you were only a small child. It is no matter to me if you've broken family tradition. Some traditions are meant to be broken. And sometimes, it's a good thing.
If you need anything, dear, just owl me directly. Write as often as you can. I want to hear all about your classes and friends.
Love,
Mother
Scorpius slumped a little in relief. He scowled a little at his mother's characterization of his father's reaction as merely "upset". He was certain Draco had been angry. Angry enough to not speak to him, it seemed. Scorpius slowly released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and tucked the letter in his schoolbag. He's write a reply to his mother later. 'Is it okay?' Al's voice broke into Scorpius' thoughts.
'My mother wrote back to me.'
'And?' Al prodded.
'She's fine with it,' Scorpius said carefully. 'My father...' he trailed off and shrugged.
'I'm sorry.'
'It's all right. I'm used to it.' Scorpius pushed his eggs around on his plate a bit. He shook himself a bit. This was not his problem. It was Draco's. There was no use in trying to be something he wasn't, and he was never going to be what his father wanted or expected. He looked wistfully down the table at the Potter/Weasley clan. He didn't have anything like that. They were good-naturedly arguing about something.
'Oi! Parker!' called Jacob. Or was it Fred? Scorpius couldn't tell them apart yet. He was amazed anyone could at all. Parker looked up from his book at the Hufflepuff table, and grinned. He all but skipped to the Gryffindor table. 'What are you doing Saturday afternoon?'
'Just a Charms essay for homework, but it'll keep until Sunday.'
'Brilliant! Up for a friendly family Quidditch game?' Fred asked with a smirk that suggested while the game might be familial, it was going to be as cutthroat as a school game.
Parker frowned, counting. 'There's only nine of us. We'll be uneven.'
'We can ask Scorpius to play,' Al interjected. 'That'll make ten. Then we can have a Seeker, a Keeper, two Chasers and a Beater.' Al turned to Scorpius. 'What do you say? Want to play with us? It gets kind of intense,' he said apologetically. 'Most of our parents played for Gryffindor. Fred and Jacob's dad played Beater, so did his twin brother and their mum was a Chaser. Isabella's dad was a Seeker. My mum was a Chaser, Dad was a Seeker. Rosie's dad was a Keeper. My Granddad Potter was a Chaser when he was in school... And I think that's it.' He frowned, trying to sort his various family members. 'Yep,' his face cleared. 'That's all of them.'
All Scorpius could do was stare in dumbfounded and the mass of information Al rattled off. 'Scorpius?'
'Huh?'
'Quidditch? Saturday? With us?' Al gestured at the rest of the cousins, waiting with expectant looks on their faces.
Something welled up in Scorpius. It was entirely an unfamiliar and not unwelcome emotion. He grinned. 'I'd love to!' A cheer went up from the nine Weasley/Potter students. Their end of the table emptied as they headed off to their first classes. Al, Rose, and Scorpius had Herbology that morning.
As they repotted fluxweed and asphodel in the greenhouse, Scorpius looked at Al, trying to figure out how to ask him something and not come off as offensive. 'Erm... Al?'
'Yeah?' Al measured dragon dung fertilizer into a pot.
'Your cousin?'
'Which one?' Al's eyebrow quirked upward and he grinned.
'Oh, right. The sort of posh-looking one... Victoire?'
'What about her?'
'Can she really play Quidditch?' Scorpius asked in a rush.
Al smirked. 'Don't let the outside fool you. She's a bloody good Beater. Nearly took Jacob's head off at the last family game we played.'
'So you weren't joking when you said it got intense?'
'Let me put it to you this way... Victoire, Madeline, Parker, and Isabella are all really good with the Episkey spell. Usually it's just bloody noses and black eyes,' he said hastily when Scorpius' eyes widened. 'No broken bones. Well, there was only the one time at Grandmum's, and Izzy's mum is a Healer, so Parker was back to normal by the next day...'
'Oh, right...' Scorpius gulped and returned to his potting tray. 'Back to... normal...'
James sat next to Al, grudgingly looking over an essay Al had written for Charms, because Al had just as grudgingly asked James to do so, as James was one of the best in his class in Charms. 'Looks okay. You might want to redo that bit about correct pronunciation, though.'
'Thanks.' Al read that section of his essay, and crossed out a few words, and added a couple of others. He rolled up his parchment, and took out his DADA notes. 'James?'
'Yeah?' James was busily scribbling an essay for History of Magic, muttering the unpleasant things he would do to Professor Binns, if he weren't a ghost.
'Do you think we're lucky?'
James stopped writing and dropped his quill. 'Why do you ask?'
Al looked over his shoulder, eyes darting around the room. Scorpius wasn't in the common room. 'Scorpius. His dad got really mad at him for being Sorted into Gryffindor.'
'How mad?'
'Too mad to send a Howler,' Al whispered as if it were a terrible secret. James whistled softly in astonishment. 'Do you think Dad meant it? Not caring where we're Sorted?' Al asked fretfully.
James ran a hand through his disordered hair, ruffling it even further. 'Yes, I do. When has he ever given us a reason to not believe him? Aside from not telling us about a good chunk of his time at school, but I've been thinking about what Victoire said the other day.'
'And?'
'I think she's right. Now, hear me out, before you start getting all fussed. Who do you want for a father? Dad, or some encyclopedia entry?'
Al was making a series of dots with his quill on a scrap of parchment. He thoughtfully connected them into a pattern before answering, 'Dad.'
'That book doesn't change anything you know.' James pulled his feet into the seat of the chair, and wrapped his arms around his knees. 'When I was eight, you and Lily both got dragon pox at the same time. Dad stayed up all night with the two of you, so Mum could get some sleep. Knowing he won some swotty tournament doesn't change that. Just keep that in mind, shrimp.' James cuffed Al on the back of the head, and gathered his books and went upstairs to bed.
Al soon followed James up the stairs to his dormitory. He climbed into his bed, and picked up the photograph next to his bed. Heroes didn't bring you pumpkin juice when you were sick or play endless games of Exploding Snap to keep you from scratching the dragon pox hives. Al replaced the photograph, arranging it just so. James was right. Whatever Harry had to tell them, it wouldn't change a thing about who he was right now. Having an ordinary father was just fine for Al.
But he still wanted to find out just what the Triwizard tournament really was. And what in Merlin's name was Dumbledore's Army?
The rest of the term passed pleasantly enough. James and the twins were usually up to their eyebrows in some sort of mischief or another. Although James did talk the twins out of spiking Professor Williams' pumpkin juice with flobberworm mucus by telling them it would work better on a git like Robert Nott. James had far too much respect for Professor Williams to prank him. The last thing James wanted to do was earn his ire.
The cousins were making plans to go home for the Christmas holiday, when Scorpius received an owl from his mother. He eagerly tore open the letter. It had been written last night.
Dear Scorpius,
Your grandfather Malfoy is very ill. Your father and I are leaving for Nice first thing in the morning. We might be abroad for some time. I'm afraid you will need to stay at school for the holidays.
Love,
Mother.
Scorpius crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the fire of the common room. He came back to sit by the cousins, who had rather adopted him into their ranks.
'What was that about?' asked Isabella.
'Parents won't be home, so I'll have to stay here for the holiday,' he said sullenly. Al went to check the list on the bulletin board. There weren't any other first-years staying.
'Maybe you could come stay with us?' Al suggested.
'Doubtful. If you thought my father went out of his tree over me being a Gryffindor, he'll go absolutely nutters over me spending my holiday in the company of -- what do you lot call it? -- the worst blood-traitors and a group of half-bloods in Britain.' Scorpius sighed, and leaned back into the squashy cushions of the sofa. He gave them a half-shrug. 'No matter. I'll just stay here. Get some homework done.'
Al and James exchanged a look. There was no way he was staying here by himself. Not if they could help it.
THREE -- Nightmares
Dear Mum and Dad,
Will it be all right if Scorpius comes to our house for Christmas? His parents will be in France, because his granddad's sick or something. That's where his dad's parents live, France.
Anyway, nobody in our year is staying at Hogwarts this holiday, so I thought he could come home with James and me.
Please, Dad?
Love,
Al
Ginny looked at Harry, a highly amused expression on her face. 'You did tell him to be nice to Scorpius,' she commented.
'I know.' Harry squirmed under Ginny's laser-like gaze, slightly annoyed she threw his own words back at him. 'He's a Malfoy,' he said resolutely.
'He's not Draco.'
'So?'
'Would anyone like Draco be in Gryffindor?'
'No,' Harry admitted with a gusty sigh. 'Have you ever thought about being an inquisitor for the Wizengamot?'
'Don't change the subject, Potter.' Harry's eyes narrowed at Ginny, but she blithely continued, 'He may be a Malfoy, but he can't stay at school by himself like that, and he has nowhere else to go.' Ginny gently stroked his hair. 'Think about where you would be if we hadn't taken you in,' she said beseechingly.
Harry leaned into Ginny's ministrations. 'Alone and getting tissues or old socks from the Dursleys,' he sighed. 'All right. He can stay with us,' he muttered reluctantly.
Ginny kissed him. 'You're a good man, Harry.'
Dear Al,
Yes, Scorpius can stay with us for the holiday. Make sure he writes to his mother so she knows he's with us. We'll pick you up at King's Cross on the sixteenth.
Love,
Mum
'You can stay with us!' Al crowed. 'It will be brilliant! My dad has this seriously large Muggle film collection. We'll watch them on Saturday nights, and take turns picking out the films.'
'You have a mad family, did you know that?'
'Yep,' Al said proudly. 'Wait until Christmas dinner at my grandparents'. It'll be even crazier.' At that moment a shout went up from the huddle that was Fred, Jacob, and James. A Weaselys' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bang firework shot from the middle of them. It exploded in the middle of the Great Hall and formed a giant Christmas tree with twinkling lights. Neville heaved a sigh of gigantic proportions and came to issue a weeks' worth of detentions for each of them. Al and Scorpius weren't sure, but they could have sworn they saw McGonagall's lips curve into a smile that was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Dear Mother,
I have been invited to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Potter for the holidays while you and Father are visiting Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy.
If you need to send an owl to me, I will be at the Potter house in Godric's Hollow.
Scorpius
The cousins piled off the train on Saturday and Scorpius followed the stream of redheads to a corresponding knot of redheads. He had never seen that many non-blondes in one place in his life. A tall man with a ponytail and a fang earring that still managed to look cool, even though he was older and had a badly scarred face, took Victoire and Madeline. A stocky man with lots of freckles and more than a few shiny burn scars took Isabella. Yet another stocky man with hair that was shaggy, and just a bit too long and oddly flattened on one side took the twins. Parker hailed a tall, slim man with glasses and a rather pompous air about him. Rose ran to a tall redheaded man who stood next to a man who looked just like Al. Scorpius remembered seeing both of them on the platform in September.
'Dad, this is Scorpius!' Al babbled excitedly. 'Scorpius, this is my dad.' Introductions complete, Al and Scorpius followed James and Rose to the line of fireplaces to wait for their turn to Floo home.
'See you at lunch tomorrow?' asked Ron in an undertone to Harry.
'Yeah.'
'It's weird, isn't it?' Ron said, gesturing toward the back of Scorpius' head.
'You have no idea,' Harry murmured with a grimace.
Harry unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves in preparation for doing the washing up after dinner. As he rolled up the left sleeve, he heard a gasp from Scorpius. Quick as lightening, Scorpius clamped his small hand around Harry's wrist and forcibly turned his left arm over. Scorpius ran shaking fingertips repeatedly over the skin of the inside of Harry's forearm. Finding nothing there, he released a shuddering breath, and let go of Harry's wrist. Harry looked at Ginny, shrugged, and knelt next to Scorpius' chair at the table, parental instincts overcoming any qualms he might have about having the scion of the Malfoy family in his house. 'Have you seen something on someone's arm before?' he asked the shaking child quietly. Scorpius nodded, biting his lip. 'Who?'
'My father,' the boy whispered, eyes filling with tears.
Harry met Ginny's eyes, and with a slight jerk of his head, asked her to take James, Al, and Lily to another room. 'When did you see it?'
'When I was seven,' Scorpius answered, his eyes fixed on his plate. 'I had a nightmare, and I ran into my father's room. The sleeve of his shirt was pushed back.' He took a deep breath, and continued. 'I-I-I t-t-touched it,' he stammered.
'It was horrible,' Scorpius said with a shudder. 'Snake coming out of a skull.'
'What happened?' Harry asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
'Nothing.' Scorpius blinked rapidly, but the scalding tears slipped down his face in spite of his best efforts to not cry. Harry reared back a little in surprise. That was not what he had expected to hear. 'He woke up and screamed at me to get out,' Scorpius mumbled to the table top. 'He didn't talk to me for a long time,' he finished, swiping the sleeve of his jumper across his face. Harry silently Summoned a tea towel from a drawer, and handed it to Scorpius. Scorpius sniffled for a few minutes into the tea towel. 'What was it? That... thing?'
Harry shifted uneasily. This was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have with Draco Malfoy's son. 'Something from the last war,' he temporized. 'It was a symbol of the side your father and grandfather fought on.'
'Did I do something wrong?'
Harry reached up to smooth the hair from Scorpius' face, like he would have done with his own children, but checked the motion, frowning slightly. For as much as Scorpius resembled his father, the look of fear and apprehension was not an expression Draco Malfoy normally wore. It gave Harry pause to see the lack of guile or hauteur on Scorpius' face. 'No. You didn't do anything wrong at all.' Harry took the tea towel from Scorpius and patted him on the back, then sent him to the sitting room to join James, Al, and Lily, who had already started the usual argument about which film to watch.
Ginny returned to the kitchen when she saw Scorpius shuffle into the sitting room, looking more than a little shaken. 'Saw the Dark Mark on Malfoy, did he?' she asked softly, as she cleared the table, carrying the dishes to the drain board.
'Yeah. It was something of an accident. I don't think Malfoy meant for him to see it.' Harry plunged his hands into the soapy water. 'Explain to me how on earth a father does not take time to enlighten his son, however simply you have to, what it was.' Ginny began to dry the plates, the two of them working in silence, with the ease of long practice.
'What did he say, exactly?' Ginny asked, with a glance over her shoulder toward the sitting room.
'Said Malfoy wouldn't talk to him for a while.'
'Oh.' Ginny sent another thoughtful glance toward the sitting room door. 'Do you think he's been...?' she trailed off.
'What? Abused?' Ginny nodded her head. 'No, I don't think so. Doesn't really act like it. Just more or less ignored by the one person he craves attention from the most. Which is just as bad.' Harry closed his eyes, and handed Ginny the last plate to dry. 'Gin?' he asked suddenly.
'Hmmm?'
'Would I have done the same thing to Al or James? If they had been Sorted into Slytherin, would I have done as I said to Al and been able to look past it?'
'Yes,' Ginny said immediately. A chorus of giggles came from the sitting room, followed by the sounds of a house of Exploding Snap cards reaching its demise.
Harry pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Merlin, this parenting thing doesn't get easier, does it?' he asked ruefully.
'It's only going to get worse,' replied Ginny.
'How?'
'Well... when Lily starts dating...'
'Which she won't until she's thirty,' interjected Harry.
'When Lily starts dating boys, they will be boys thinking the exact same thing you did when you were their age,' Ginny continued smoothly, as if Harry hadn't said a word.
'Not if he wants to keep his anatomy intact,' Harry growled following Ginny to the sitting room. He watched the children race each other to build Exploding Snap card towers -- Lily and Scorpius against James and Al. When the boys' tower burst into a shower of sparks, Lily and Scorpius cheered, but only for a second, because theirs went up in a cloud of sparks, too. Shocked, they looked at each other, open-mouthed, before dissolving into giggles once more.
With a wave of his wand, Harry cleared the coffee table of the remains of the cards, and conjured cocoa and cookies for everyone. 'All right, Lils, your pick tonight,' he announced, settling the spirited discussion about whose turn it was to choose the film that had arisen once more.
'Hmmmm.' Lily tapped her chin with a forefinger, considering her choices, which were many and varied, given Harry's collection of Muggle films. She all but ran to a shelf and pulled off a slender, brightly-colored box. 'Here, Dad,' she said, handing it to him. James coughed something that sounded like 'chick flick', and earned himself a reproving look from Ginny.
'Beauty and the Beast?' Harry asked. 'Again?'
'Lily, you've watched that thing a million times!' groaned Al.
'But Scorpius hasn't seen it!' she declared, settling on a sofa. James and Al muttered good-naturedly about their baby sister's film-viewing habits, but they secretly enjoyed the film.
When the television screen lit up, and the opening of the film began to play, Scorpius' mouth dropped open. 'It's magic!' he breathed. He knew his father would have a fit if he knew that Scorpius was doing something so... Muggle-ish. But at this moment, Scorpius was beyond caring what his father would approve or disapprove of.
Harry shut the television off. The four children were sprawled on the sofa and floor, sound asleep. 'Should we wake them and send them up to their rooms?' Ginny shook her head, and conjured fluffy blankets for each of them. She tucked the blankets around the children. Harry left a small light burning on a side table and pulled Ginny toward him. He kissed her, murmuring, 'Come on, let's go upstairs,' against her lips.
'Race you,' she whispered, and took off. Dazed, Harry watched her for a few seconds. She stopped at the foot of the staircase. 'Coming?' she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder and lightly going up the stairs.
Harry ran up the stairs quickly and before Ginny realized he was behind her, he swung her up over his shoulder and carried her into their bedroom. He dropped Ginny in the middle of their bed, using his wand to close and lock the door. 'Now,' he grinned,' where were we?' Harry climbed on the bed, next to Ginny, and traced her lips with a fingertip. 'Here, was it?' He kissed her.
'Maybe.'
'Or here?' Harry started to nibble the skin below her ear.
'Could be,' Ginny gasped. She tugged on the buttons of his shirt, trying not to rip them off.
'Don't need this, do we?' Harry chuckled, pulling Ginny's jumper over her head.
'And people think you're so innocent,' she said scoffed.
'That's because they've never seen you naked. You could make a saint throw a vow of chastity out the window,' he breathed.
'Now you're just exaggerating.'
'Nope. Just as beautiful as the day I married you.'
'Flatterer. But I knew I kept you around for something.'
Harry leaned down to kiss Ginny. 'Gin?'
'Yeah?'
'Stop talking.' Ginny laughed. It was the deep smoky laugh she used only with him. Harry thought he was lucky they were already in bed. His knees would have given out otherwise.
They didn't talk anymore after that.
Scorpius could see the hallway outside his bedroom. It was dark. He ran down the hall to his father's room, his bare feet padding nearly silently on the thick carpet and eased the door open. Mother was away, visiting his aunt Astoria, who was ill, or he would have gone to her. Father lay sleeping, his left arm flung across the bed, the sleeve of his pajama shirt pushed up.
Scorpius cautiously climbed up onto the ornate bed. Curiously, he looked down at his father's arm. He never saw his father's bare arms before. Father never even rolled his sleeves up and always wore long sleeves, no matter how hot the weather. There, on the inside of Father's left arm... What was it? Scorpius leaned down for a closer look. It looked like a Muggle tattoo. Scorpius was confused. Father would never have something like a Muggle tattoo. He didn't like anything to do with Muggles.
Outside, a cloud shifted, and moonlight flooded the room, illuminating Father's arm. Scorpius recoiled in horror. It was faint, but still clearly showed a skull, with a snake coming from its mouth. Tentatively, not daring to breathe, Scorpius began to trace the outline of the tattoo with a trembling forefinger. He had only just begun when he heard Father's sharp intake of breath. 'What do you think you're doing?' Father hissed, jerking his arm away, and yanking the sleeve down to cover the mark.
'Father, what is that?' asked Scorpius.
'Nothing.' Father wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Get out.'
'But, Father...'
'I said get out!' Father yelled.
Scorpius scrambled off the bed, and ran for his life. He huddled in a corner of his bedroom, unable to sleep.
For when he closed his eyes, all he saw was the skull and its snake.
A high-pitched wail broke through Ginny's slumber. She vaulted out of bed, and dived for her dressing gown. Hurriedly, she shoved her arms into the sleeves and knotted the sash tightly as she darted from the room. She heard Harry scramble for the jeans that lay on the floor and follow her down the stairs to the sitting room.
James, Al, and Lily were sitting up, blearily watching Scorpius thrash on the sofa in his sleep. James and Lily wore bewildered expressions, while Al began to untangle himself from the blanket and started to shake Scorpius awake. 'C'mon, wake up,' he said. Scorpius bolted upright, his wide eyes staring wildly around the room. 'It was only a nightmare,' stated Al. 'You're all right.' Al looked up to see Lily's anxious face. 'Go get a glass of water, Lils? Please?' She nodded and ran to the kitchen, returning with a nearly full glass, and handed it to Scorpius.
'I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry,' Scorpius said, teeth chattering against the rim of the glass.
Lily shrugged. 'We all have nightmares.' She straightened the blanket and tucked it back around Scorpius. Crisis over, James rolled over and went back to sleep. Al went back to his place on the floor, and Lily to her end of the sofa. She didn't go back to sleep immediately, but propped herself up and watched Scorpius intently.
Harry urged Ginny back upstairs to their bedroom. Ginny closed the door. 'What was that?'
'The nightmare or Lily turning into a mother hen before our eyes?' Harry asked, dropping his jeans to the floor and climbing wearily back into bed.
'Both,' replied Ginny, sliding under the quilt and snuggling into Harry's body.
'No idea.'
'It can wait until morning?'
'Yeah. I think so.'
Harry crept down the stairs to start breakfast. James, Al, and Lily were still sprawled out in their various places from the night before, asleep. He went to shake them awake. 'Breakfast will be ready soon,' he said. James shot up the stairs to the bathroom, and slammed the door in Lily's face. Lily's frustrated wail floated down the stairs. 'Where's Scorpius?' Harry asked Al, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug, his blanked wrapped around his shoulders.
'Dunno. He's probably up already. Doesn't have a lie-in usually.'
Harry started to go into the kitchen, then turned. 'Does he usually have nightmares?'
Al stood up and stretched. 'Not normally. Every so often, I guess...'
Harry pulled his son into a tight hug. 'You did good last night. Just the way your uncle Ron would do with me when we were in school.'
'You had nightmares, Dad?' asked Al incredulously with a laugh. As far as he was concerned, Harry was unshakeable.
'Yeah. Some pretty bad ones, too.' Harry admitted. 'Now go brush your teeth,' he said firmly, changing the subject. 'Your breath could kill a Hungarian Horntail,' he said, sending Al to the stairs, with a light swat on the rear.
Harry went into the kitchen and found Scorpius sitting at the table, reading one of James' Muggle books. He looked up, a little timidly. 'Morning,' he said uncertainly.
Before Harry could answer, Lily's voice screeched, 'James! Hurry up! You have Dad's hair! It's never going to lie down! So stop trying to bother!'
'Lily, go use ours,' Ginny said, exasperated.
'Yours smells funny,' Lily replied.
'Yeah, that's 'cause it's clean and doesn't smell like James' dirty socks,' came Al's voice.
Harry glanced at the raised eyebrows on Scorpius' face. 'It's a bit barmy around here in the morning,' he said apologetically.
Scorpius snorted. 'You should see them at meals. Eight Weasleys or Potters arguing, discussing, trying to get homework answers. Occasionally Parker comes to the Gryffindor table and adds to the chaos.' He smiled. 'The Quidditch games are spot-on, though.'
Harry set a pot of porridge to cook, and started making toast. 'Do you have nightmares often?' he asked nonchalantly. Scorpius' head snapped up.
'Why do you care?'
Harry shrugged. 'I used to get them. A lot. Seemed like I was getting them all the time from the age of fourteen until I was nearly eighteen. Some of them weren't really nightmares, though, but that's a story for another time.' Harry examined the back of the bent blonde head. 'I still get them, you know.'
'You do?'
'Yeah. It's all right to be afraid of something. You know Rosie?' At Scorpius' nod, Harry continued, 'Her dad's terrified of spiders. Has been since he was three. Rosie's mum has to kill any spiders that come into their house.' Harry made a pot of tea and another of cocoa. 'One thing I learned, though, it does help to talk about it.' The porridge ready, Harry handed Scorpius a bowl and a cup of cocoa.
Scorpius stirred milk and sugar into his porridge. 'It was about finding that mark on my father's arm,' he admitted. He toyed with his spoon.
Harry sat at his place at the table, with his own bowl of porridge. He added milk and sugar to his bowl. 'Have that one a lot?'
'No. Usually it's me trying to catch up to him. I keep calling and calling, but he doesn't hear me. And no matter how much or how fast I run, I'll never catch up.' Scorpius traced the grain of the scrubbed wooden table with the handle of his spoon.
Harry sighed. He didn't know what he could say without maligning Draco. 'Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, okay?' Scorpius nodded and obediently began to spoon porridge into his mouth. 'If you need to,' he added casually,' you can always talk to Ginny or me.' Scorpius froze, a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth.
'Thank you, sir.' Anything Harry had to say after that was quickly drowned out by the clatter of James, Al, and Lily coming into the kitchen for breakfast.
Harry sat back in his chair with the morning's chaos swirling around them. This is going to be the most interesting Christmas we've had in a long time...
FOUR -- Sunday Lunch
'Okay, let me make sure I've got everyone straight,' Scorpius said to Lily. 'Your grandmother and grandfather. Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur who have Victoire, Madeline, Alexander, and Nicholas. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Bronwyn who have Isabella, Aidan, and Owen. Uncle Percy and Aunt Penny who have Parker, Payton, and Patrick. Uncle George and Aunt Katie who have Jacob, Fred, and Sophia. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione who have Rosie and Hugo. Then there's your mother and father, you, James, and Al. And your father's godson, Teddy, and his grandmother Andromeda. Is that everyone? Or have I forgotten someone?'
'Nope, that's the lot,' Lily said absently. She struggled to put her coat on. One of her sleeves had turned inside-out when she took it off the night before.
'Here, wait a minute.' Lily felt a hand pull the coat sleeve back to its proper position, and help her put the coat on. Lily turned around to see Scorpius standing behind her, his hand smoothing down the collar of her coat.
'Thanks,' she said. He blushed and ducked his head
'You do this every Sunday?' Scorpius leaned closer to Lily, whispering in her ear.
'Yep. Usually it's all of us. Well, only when everybody's home from school.' Lily looked at James and Al's nearly identical disheveled black heads, close together in front of them. They appeared to be intently discussing something. 'I have a feeling something is going to happen, though. They're not usually that...' Lily trailed off, groping for just the right word. 'Friendly,' she finished.
'Lily? Scorpius?' Ginny held out the flower pot with Floo powder so each of them could take a handful. Ginny put the pot back on the mantle and watched as each child spun through the emerald green flames. She grabbed Harry's coat sleeve, just as he was about to throw his handful of Floo powder in the flames. 'Do you think one of us should have gone first? You know, just to warn everyone?'
Harry snorted. 'You think there are still members of our family who don't know we have Draco Malfoy's son, and only child, staying with us for the holiday?'
'Yeah, you're right.' Ginny smiled. 'We're rubbish at keeping secrets amongst ourselves.'
'Too right,' muttered Harry, as he spun into the flames.
Ginny threw her Floo powder in the fireplace and headed to the Burrow, unable to shake the nagging feeling that one of them should have gone through first, just to smooth things over.
When Lily tumbled out of the Burrow's fireplace after Scorpius, she was met by stunned silence.
Scorpius was standing on the hearthrug, staring at Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George, who were staring back at him in open-mouthed shock.
'Dear Merlin, it's the ferret!' breathed George.
'Uncle George, what are you talking about?' demanded Lily. 'This is Scorpius. He's in Al's year in Gryffindor,' she explained. 'He's not a ferret...'
'Of course.' Arthur rose to greet the boy. 'Where are my manners?' He held out his hand. 'Arthur Weasley. Welcome.'
Scorpius looked up at a tall balding man, whose oncered hair had gone sandy with age. 'Scorpius Malfoy.' He gingerly took Arthur's hand.
'You're in Gryffindor?' Arthur asked kindly.
'Yes, sir.' Scorpius gazed at all the men in the room. 'I've been playing Quidditch with Victoire, Madeline, Isabella, Fred, Jacob, Parker, James, and Al,' he offered lamely, searching for something to say to this roomful of strangers. Scorpius didn't particularly care for strangers.
'Good, good.' Arthur took Scorpius in hand. 'Let me introduce you to the rest of the family, then.'
Scorpius' head was spinning. A plump lady in an apron offered him a handful of chocolate biscuits and Scorpius was trying to remember the names and faces of the numerous aunts and uncles, not to mention the additional eight cousins. Lily had trailed behind them, piping up with random information, as each person was introduced.
The introductions completed, Scorpius perched on a chair, nibbling his biscuits. Lily's hand darted out and she snagged one. 'Wanna go outside and have a snowball fight with us?' she asked around a mouthful of biscuit. Scorpius eyed the people milling about the overly warm kitchen, and nodded with alacrity.
Outside, a young man with bright turquoise hair was organizing the children into two teams, putting an equal number of older cousins with the younger ones. 'Who's that?' Scorpius inquired, pointing.
'That's Teddy. Dad's godson. He's going out with Victoire.' Lily made kissing noises and giggled.
Teddy was listing the rules for the fight. 'No magic! No Impervious charms, or Cushioning charms, or Summoning or Banishing charms! And no enchanted snowballs or snow forts. Do not put stones in the snowballs, unless you want Molly to shout at you.' He paused, considering. 'Or anybody else's mum for that matter. You have thirty minutes to make as many snowballs as you can and the snow fort. Are there any questions?' After a chorus of 'no' from the group, Teddy said, 'Okay. Your time starts... now!'
Scorpius and Lily frantically made a pile of snowballs to join the ones that Alex, Sophie, Patrick, and Rose were making. Parker, Madeline, Fred, and Teddy worked on the fort. It seemed to Scorpius that the thirty minutes ended in just ten. 'Ready?' whispered Teddy, his hair as blonde as Scorpius'. 'Now!' he shouted, and the air filled with snowballs.
Rose had deadly accurate aim, and she caught James right in the face with a snowball. Al started laughing at him until Lily, whose aim was almost as good, pegged him on the side of the head. Lily and Rose grinned at each other, slapped their mittened hands together, and then continued to throw several very well-aimed snowballs.
The snowball supply dwindled to nothing and Teddy led a charge to the other team's fort. Patrick and Sophie snuck around to the back and captured their flag, which happened to be James' bright red scarf that day. Victoire tapped Teddy on the shoulder, and smashed a double handful of snow in his face. The orderly snowball fight disintegrated into a melee of flying snow. Even Scorpius wasn't safe. Rose screeched as Hugo shoved a handful of snow down the back of her jumper. Like the Quidditch games at school, it was certainly intense, but nobody got seriously hurt. Nothing a quick Episkey couldn't handle.
The battle ended only when Bill came out to irritably yell at them lunch was ready. They trooped back inside, to be met by a wall of resigned parents, who performed Drying charms on the younger ones' clothes.
Lunch was unusually quiet that day. Normally, conversation flowed in scattered bursts around the table, but the adults pensively pushed the food around their plates, something that didn't go unnoticed by the older children.
Finally, lunch eaten, and pudding served, Bill pushed his plate away at an unspoken signal from the others. 'Right. We know you lot would like some information -- '
'Dad.' Victoire spoke up from her end of the table. 'We actually have a list of questions we'd like answers to. Real answers, not just trying to dodge them like you've done.' Bill's brows rose at Victoire's assumption of the leadership role. Victoire held out a hand. 'Rosie?' Rose fished the parchment from her pocket and handed it to Victoire.
Teddy got up and nudged Scorpius. 'Come on, mate. Let's you and me go take a bit of a stroll.' Scorpius nodded and he and Teddy grabbed their coats and went out the back door. Victoire had warned Teddy about the conversation they intended to have with their parents, and after growing up around Weasley tempers, he thought a strategic retreat was in order.
Victoire studied the parchment, and fixed Harry with a stare she must have inherited from Molly. 'Uncle Harry, how did you survive the Killing curse?'
'Way to ease into it, Victoire,' muttered George.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Hm. Let's see... what was it? Four? Five times?'
'The one when you were a baby, the one in the graveyard, the one when you left the Dursleys, the one in the Forest and the one in the duel?' ventured Hermione, ticking off each event on her fingers. 'That's five.'
'You survived the Killing curse five times?' squeaked James.
'Uh, yeah.' Harry looked uncomfortable. 'The first one was because my mum died protecting me. She had a chance to save herself and didn't. Very, very old magic. It's how I got this.' Harry rubbed the scar that bisected his forehead. 'The others were just plain luck for the most part, except the on in the Forest, and that's a lot more complicated.' Harry rubbed an area on his chest over his heart. 'The other three...' Harry shrugged. 'Those were more the curse bounced off a charm I did. See? Dumb luck.'
'But Uncle Harry, that's cool!' exclaimed Fred.
'Not so much when people stare at you all the time,' Katie informed her son acidly. Fred wilted at the tone in his mother's voice.
'Half the stuff I did, I only managed to do because I had help,' Harry said wearily. 'I wouldn't have made it to seventeen without Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dobby...'
'Who's Dobby?' piped up Lily.
'A house-elf. He broke Harry's arm second year.' Ron grinned. 'Charmed a Bludger to follow Harry around the Quidditch pitch.'
'Yeah, that was a real laugh riot,' retorted Harry.
'But you did give him his freedom,' Hermione reminded him.
'I had to. He didn't deserve the family he was bound to,' Harry protested.
'Okay, next question... Why did you and Uncle Ron get school awards your second year?' Victoire asked smoothly.
'Because of me,' Ginny said suddenly. 'Someone slipped an artifact of Voldemort's in my school things when we went to get them for my first year. It was a diary. I thought it was just a regular diary. I wrote in it, and he, well, used me through it.' She felt Harry's hand close around hers under the table. She clasped it gratefully. 'He was able to use me to open something called the Chamber of Secrets, so he could terrorize the students and teachers at Hogwarts with a basilisk.' Ginny paused to take a steadying breath. 'He took me down to the Chamber to die. Harry and Ron came for me.' Ginny gave Harry a small, sad smile, her eyes bright with unshed tears. 'Harry killed the basilisk and the part of Voldemort that was in that diary.'
'But that was still luck,' Harry interjected. 'If Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, hadn't brought the Sorting Hat to me, and Gryffindor's sword hadn't fallen out...' He shook his head. 'I almost died myself. Basilisk fang went through my arm. If Fawkes hadn't been there... Phoenix tears can heal just about anything. Even basilisk venom.'
'Where were you, Dad?' asked Hugo thoughtfully.
'Trying to dismantle a wall of rubble that fell when that git of a DADA professor who was sent to retrive Ginny tried to Obliviate Harry and me with my broken wand after we'd discovered he was useless. Sort of backfired and he Obliviated himself. He's still in St. Mungo's.' Ron chuckled a bit.
'Calling Lockhart a professor is going a bit far, don't you think?' asked Percy
'He was pretty worthless,' agreed Katie.
'It was a cursed position,' explained Charlie. 'Until Voldemort was defeated, nobody lasted more than a year.'
'Really?' said Madeline. 'I thought that was some sort of urban legend.'
'Nope. It's true. We had two really good ones. Teddy's dad, Remus, and Mad-Eye Moody. Well, someone posing as Mad-Eye,' mused George.
'Why did they only last a year, if they were so good?' asked James. Defense was one of his favorite subjects.
'Remus was a werewolf, so he was forced out,' Harry said. 'He's the reason why Hermione works so hard for werewolf rights. And as for Mad-Eye... It wasn't really Mad-Eye. It was a Death Eater using Polyjuice potion to pose as Mad-Eye.'
'But we did learn loads from him,' said Hermione ruefully.
'What's a Death Eater?' asked Rose.
'Someone who followed Voldemort,' said Arthur. 'Most of them are gone. Killed in the last battle. There are a few that are still alive. They're not active anymore, though.'
'What's the Triwizard tournament?' It was Isabella.
'Zat's a contest between 'Ogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang,' said Fleur. 'Each school has a champion, chosen by the Goblet of Fire. You must complete three tasks. It was... dangerous,' she said, shaking her head. ''Arry and I competed in it.'
'Yeah, Uncle Harry. That book Rosie found says you won,' Jacob said.
'What bloody book is this?' Harry asked perplexed.
'Famous Witches and Wizards of the Twentieth Century,' answered Rose promptly.
'Of course it is,' muttered Harry mutinously.
'So, did you?' asked James. 'Win?'
'Yes,' Harry sighed.
'But the Triwizard Cup was a Portkey. The fake Mad-Eye made it into one, and basically ensured Harry got to the center of the obstacle course-maze that was the third task so it would take him to a graveyard,' said Hermione, knowing Harry didn't like to talk about that. 'Except another student was with Harry, and he was murdered,' she finished quietly.
Harry swallowed hard. 'When Riddle's Killing curse bounced off me when I was a baby, he sort of disappeared. He needed my blood to come back, and part of his father's remains. The graveyard was where his father was buried. So, he took some of my blood, got his body back, and we fought a duel.'
'Who's Riddle?' asked Owen. He looked a bit confused.
'That was Voldemort's real name,' said Ginny. 'Tom Riddle. He hated it. His father was a Muggle, and Riddle hated anything to do with Muggles, so he changed it.'
'Why did he hate Muggles if his father was one?' wondered Alexander.
'That's a long story, and I don't have the energy to go into it right now,' said Harry.
'Dumbledore's Army?' inquired Al.
'Ah, Dumbledore's Army,' grinned George. 'Our illicit student organization.'
'Why was it illicit?' asked Madeline.
'We had a Ministry official at Hogwarts teaching Defense that year. Umbridge. She banned all student groups and we met in secret,' explained Ginny.
'That was the year the Ministry tried to take over Hogwarts,' said Percy. 'In hindsight, it was a bloody stupid thing to try,' he added.
'We fought a group of Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry my fourth year,' said Ginny. 'Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and me.'
'Why would you do something daft like that?' exclaimed Parker, flabbergasted.
'Oh, well...' Harry leaned his chair back on its two back legs. 'When I was in my fifth year, Riddle found out we had this... bond. We could see what the other was thinking, if a strong emotion was tied to it. He made me think my godfather was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. So the six of us went to rescue him.
'But it had all been a horrible mistake. He made me see something that wasn't real, and my godfather died because of it.' Harry took his glasses off and rubbed a hand over his face. 'That bond gave me nightmares for the better part of four years,' Harry said to Al, who nodded, the comment Harry had made to him that morning, finally making sense.
The room was silent for a moment. Then timidly, Rose asked, 'What was the Battle of Hogwarts?'
'Which one, Rosie?' asked Ron.
'The first one.'
'Death Eaters attacked the castle while Dumbledore and Harry were gone, trying to find a way to defeat Riddle,' said Ginny.
'That was when Dumbledore died,' said Harry.
'And the second?' James asked.
'That was when Fred died,' said Molly haltinging.
'It was a year after the first one,' George said softly.
'We, Harry, Hermione and me, spent about eight or nine months trying to find ways to defeat Voldemort. Usually trying to evade Death Eaters intent on finding us.' Ron seemed more interested in the grain of the table.
'What do you mean 'ways'?' asked Victoire, eyes narrowed.
'Riddle split his soul into seven pieces and put them into things. In order for him to die we had to destroy them,' said Hermione.
'But one of them was me.' Harry glanced at his children, and saw the looks of fear and awe on their faces. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. 'I had to die,' he finished quietly.
'But, Dad, you're not dead,' pointed out Al, as if Harry was being unreasonable.
'No, I'm not.' Harry blindly reached for Ginny's hands. He needed to touch her to get through this. 'But part of the deal was I had to willingly sacrifice myself to save everyone else. I had a choice, though, after the Killing Curse hit. To go back or not.' Harry shrugged. 'Either way, though, the part of Riddle that was in me died.'
'And you killed him,' whispered James, wide-eyed.
'No,' Harry replied automatically. 'He killed himself. He had a chance to show any kind of remorse for all the shite he had done, but he didn't. His Killing Curse bounced off my Disarming charm. Plus, he was using a wand that hadn't chosen him.'
'So all that claptrap that Ollivander said about the wand choosing the wizard is true?' asked Rose skeptically.
'Very.'
'So that's why people stare at you?' Al looked at him, face creased in bemusement.
'It wasn't just me. It was all of us. I did nothing by myself. If I didn't have Ron or Hermione that year we spent on the run from Death Eaters, I wouldn't have been able to succeed. If Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Percy, Ginny, Katie, Penny, Molly, or Arthur or the Order or the DA hadn't been at that battle...' Harry trailed off.
'Why didn't you bother to tell any of us this before?' demanded Victoire.
'We just wanted to put the last couple of years behind us and live without fear for the first time in years,' said Arthur gently. 'We all knew we'd have to tell you at some point or another. We just didn't know when.'
'It's just really difficult for us to talk about it,' added George.
'Talking about it makes it real. All over again,' stated Ginny, looking at Harry.
'We all had nightmares about it. For weeks and months,' Ron mumbled.
'So you can see why this wasn't something we wanted to talk about with you,' Charlie said heavily. 'We really weren't trying to hide anything.'
The cousins exchanged looks amongst themselves. 'Thank you,' whispered Victoire. She got up, and motioned to the others to go up to what had been Fred and George's old room.
'Well, that could have gone worse,' said Harry wryly, as the kitchen door swung shut behind them.
As the session in the kitchen went on, Scorpius and Teddy walked along the snowy lane toward Stoatshead Hill. 'So you're Draco's son,' said Teddy.
Scorpius nodded. 'How do you know my father?'
'You don't know?'
'What?'
'Your grandmother Narcissa is my Gran's sister. So that makes us cousins.'
'Were you in Slytherin, then?' Scorpius looked at Teddy from the corner of his eye.
'Merlin, no! Gryffindor, like my dad.'
'And your grandmother didn't mind?'
'No. She was proud of me. And since her family had disowned her when she married a Muggle-born, they couldn't disown me any more than I already was.' Teddy shrugged. 'Didn't matter. I had Harry and Ginny. And Molly and Arthur. And all the rest of them.' Teddy examined the serious-looking boy trudging in the snow next to him. 'I take it your family didn't take kindly to you being in Gryffindor?'
'My mother seems to be all right with it.'
'But not your father?' Scorpius shook his head no. 'Ah.'
'Doesn't matter,' said Scorpius, echoing Teddy.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Scorpius asked, 'What are they talking about in there?'
'The war. What they did in it.' Teddy gave a half-shrug.
'Oh.' Scorpius was quiet again. 'Teddy?'
'Yeah?'
'How do you do that?' Scorpius fingered a lock of pale blonde hair that peeped from under his hat. 'Your hair?'
Teddy laughed. 'I'm a Metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will. My mum was one.'
'Oh. That's what Al said, but he didn't tell me what that meant, Metamorphmagus.' Scorpius carefully sounded out the unfamiliar word. He looked at Teddy. 'What do you really look like?'
Teddy looked at Scorpius in surprise. 'Well, like this...' His eyes unfocused a bit and his spiky turquoise hair turned sandy. Teddy didn't change his appearance drastically most of the time. He had his father's grey eyes in his mother's heart-shaped face, but it was the echoes of his father that stared back at him in a mirror more and more as the years passed.
'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.'
Scorpius suddenly stopped. 'I'm glad you're my family,' he blurted.
'Thanks.' Teddy was taken aback by the openness of Scorpius. Andromeda had warned him that he might be aloof and snobbish, given his father's influence. But Scorpius was not what he had expected at all. 'You're all right, yourself.'
'Think they're done?' Scorpius was starting to get cold.
'They might be by the time we get back.'
They turned and headed back to the Burrow.
FIVE -- It Doesn't Matter
Lily, James, and Al sat on the floor of Fred and George's old bedroom. Lily leaned against James, who had his arm around her shoulders. For once, all eighteen cousins were quiet. 'Dad died,' whispered Al into the silence.
'Yeah,' James grunted.
That was all they could seem to manage to say. Parker was sitting behind Al on Fred's old bed. Al leaned his head against Parker's knee. 'When I was nine, Dad told me he got into a lot of trouble at school,' he said, voice muffled in Parker's jeans. 'I thought it was normal stuff like James, Fred, and Jacob.'
Rose's eyes were narrowed. 'Eighteen. Mum was eighteen when they were on the run.' She paused counting a bit more. 'Dad was seventeen. So was Uncle Harry.'
'How did they do it?' Sophie was awed.
'Dunno,' shrugged Fred. 'Worked together, I guess.'
The room fell silent once more.
'Dad used the word shite,' murmured James, a shocked giggle coming out of his mouth. The giggle echoed in waves around the room, breaking the nervous tension.
Isabella took in the slight strain on Lily, Al, and James' faces. Of all of them, they would be most affected by it, she thought. 'You three okay?'
James nodded. 'It's just a lot to take in. I still don't understand, though,' he said. 'Why Dad? Why did he have to do it? Why did this Voldemort bloke target Dad?'
Victoire's head landed on the wall with a thump. 'Who knows? Seems to me a lot of Dark wizards and witches do a lot of knee-jerk reactions about stuff. Blood purity and all that nonsense.' She snorted. 'When Teddy and I started going out we got a lot of guff from that lot in Slytherin.'
'Whatever for?' asked Owen. He adored Teddy
'Because not only are the Weasleys the biggest blood traitors in the world,' began Jacob.
'They all married Muggle-borns or half-bloods,' continued Fred
'What does that have to do with anything?' wondered Lily.
'No idea,' said Parker. 'But Ted got a lot of grief because of his father and Victoire because of her mother.'
'So?' challenged Hugo.
'A lot of those old pureblood families in Slytherin think anything that dilutes that pureblood status is a bad thing,' explained Madeline. 'Especially anything that they think of as less than human, like werewolves and Veelas.'
'And there are plenty of Muggle-borns who are better at magic than half those gits who are pureblood,' stated Parker. He guffawed. 'Like that absolutely thick idiot in your year, James. What's his name?'
'Goyle,' James supplied.
'Yeah, him. He's about as pureblood as you can get, but he's about two steps above a Squib,' Parker chuckled.
'There's always going to be idiots who believe in stuff like that,' mused Isabella.
'So what do you do?' asked Al.
'Ignore it.' Victoire sat up and stretched. 'Doesn't help anyone to get fussed about it.'
'Easier said than done, sometimes,' muttered James, who still harbored a bit of bitterness toward Nott and the infamous dragon liver incident.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Arthur held up a bottle of Firewhisky in mute inquiry. 'Oh, just fill the damn cup,' George muttered shoving his teacup to Arthur.
Harry pushed his toward Arthur. 'Mine, too.'
'Could just pass the bottle around,' said Ron in an undertone.
'Could do,' agreed Charlie. 'But then I'd have to share, and I'm not sure I want to right now.'
Harry slumped forward and rested his head on the table. 'Why do I feel like I've been trampled by Buckbeak?'
'Look like it too, with that mess you call hair,' commented George, trying to lighten the mood.
'Thanks, George,' replied Harry.
'Any time, mate.'
Arthur passed George and Harry's cups back to them. 'Cheers,' Harry said to no one in particular and tossed the entire contents back in one gulp. The Firewhisky burned as it traveled down his throat. He pushed the cup back to Arthur. 'More please,' he said hoarsely.
Arthur refilled the cup. 'Don't drink it all in one go, eh?'
'Just the first one,' Harry assured him, taking the cup and swirling the contents around.
The back door opened, and Teddy and Scorpius cautiously poked their heads through. 'No carnage?' asked Teddy.
'Not this time,' replied Bill.
Teddy took Scorpius' coat and hung it on a hook with his. 'Where'd they go?'
'Upstairs. My old room, I think,' said George.
'C'mon, Scorpius. Let's go see what kind of the trouble we can get into today,' Teddy said lightly as he led the younger boy up the stairs.
'Wonder what those two talked about...' mused Ron staring after Scorpius.
'They're related, you know,' said Harry. 'Cousins,' he added helpfully.
'They are?' Bill looked at Harry in surprise.
'Mmm-hmmm. Andromeda is Narcissa's sister,' Harry supplied.
'Really?' Bronwyn, who had been silent up until now, spoke up. 'They don't favor each other much, do they?'
'How do you know what Narcissa Malfoy looks like?' asked Charlie interestedly.
Bronwyn shrugged. 'Everyone comes through St. Mungo's at one time or another.' Charlie stared at her as if he hadn't lived with her for almost twenty years. 'What?' she responded exasperatedly to his stare.
'You never told me that,' he retorted.
'Ever heard of a little thing called patient confidentiality?'
'Well, yeah, but -- '
'But, nothing, Charlie. What was I supposed to do, waltz into the kitchen one day during my week at St. Mungo's and say, "Guess who I treated today?" Of course, not.' Bronwyn impaled him on a look. 'I think the fumes from the dragons' breath have finally addled your brain.'
Charlie's mouth snapped shut. 'You're right,' he mumbled. 'Don't know what I was thinking. Sorry.'
'Besides, Charlie, it's not like people don't know what Narcissa looks like,' added Bill, lightly cuffing Charlie on the back of the head.
Harry pulled out his wand, and started to clear the table. While he might do the dishes at home the Muggle way, he'd be washing up all night if he did it that way here. He always helped with the washing up. It was only fair, he reasoned, that if Molly did most of the cooking, someone else should clean up the mess.
After everything was put away, it was time to head home. Harry dragged himself upstairs to corral his lot, following the sound of cheers from a rowdy group of children. He stood on the landing, looking at all of them, stuffed into one room. Not so much children anymore. Teddy would be twenty in April and Victoire would be eighteen in May. All the way down to Aidan, who would be seven this coming May. Hugo was playing chess with Parker. Harry watched the game for a few minutes. While Parker was good, having learned to play from Ron, Hugo was even better. 'Checkmate,' chimed Hugo.
'Well, I'll be buggered,' exclaimed Parker, tipping his king over.
'How many times has he beaten you?' asked Patrick.
'Too many to count,' sighed Parker.
'No worries, Parker.' Al spoke up brightly. 'Rosie can't beat Hugo, either.'
'Yeah, she takes after her mum in chess.' Harry started. He hadn't heard Ron come up the stairs. 'Come on, you two. Time to get home.'
'Us, too?' asked James.
'Yes, you, too,' said Harry patiently. James, Al, Lily, and Scorpius clattered down the stairs to the kitchen to gather their things.
'Hey, Dad?' James' voice came out from somewhere in the throng of redheads that surrounded him.
'Yes, James?'
'Can we watch a film when we get home? Before we go to bed? Please?'
'Maybe. We'll have to ask your mother.'
'But, Dad, we're on holiday,' James pointed out.
'Right.' Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his bridge of his nose. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 'Fine. One film, all right? Then you go up to bed, and no arguments.'
'Absolutely.' James darted through the crowd of adults and bounded to where Lily, Al, and Scorpius stood waiting for Harry and Ginny. 'We are so watching Star Wars!'
'I think you've created a monster.' Ginny put an arm around Harry's waist.
'Could be worse,' Harry said, bending his head to smell her hair. 'He could be like Dudley was at that age.'
When they returned to their house, Ginny and Harry sent the kids up to change into their pajamas. They could hear snatches of conversation that drifted down the stairs. 'What exactly is Star Wars?' Scorpius asked.
'It's only the best film ever!' answered James from his room. He started singing snatches of the melody from the film score.
Harry looked at Ginny, his eyebrows raised. 'Well, I happen to disagree,' he informed her.
'Oh, you do?'
'Yep.' He looked down at Ginny. 'It's Rear Window,' he told her smugly.
She shook her head. 'You're just as mental as you were when you were twelve, you know that?'
'Yep. And you love me.' Harry pulled Ginny to him and tilted her face up so he could kiss her.
'Ewww. Do you have to do that?' Lily's voice interrupted them.
'Yes, we do,' said Ginny. Lily made noises of disgust as she settled on the sofa with her favorite blanket and stuffed bunny. The boys came tumbling down the stairs in a flurry of plaid flannel and Quidditch tshirts. 'Okay, you can have anything out of the refrigerator, and your dad and I will be in the office, okay?'
'Okay, Mum. Thanks,' James said, waiting impatiently for Ginny and Harry to leave.
'We could stay in here,' Harry threatened, as he and Ginny walked into the office, and partially closed the door. He collapsed into an armchair. He rolled his head and Ginny winced at the multiple popping sounds that came from his neck. She stood behind him, and began to knead the taut muscles.
'It could have gone worse, like you said,' she murmured.
'I suppose.'
'It'll be fine, Harry.' He shrugged. Ginny made a face at the back of his head. She delivered a sharp punch to his shoulder.
'Hey! What was that for?' he exclaimed, rubbing where she'd punched him.
'Stop brooding. That's an order.'
'I'm not brooding,' he said huffily.
Ginny laughed. 'Yes, you are.' She sobered and came around the chair to sit in Harry's lap. 'You don't like to talk about any of that stuff, because it makes you second-guess ninety-nine percent of the decisions you made. Hindsight and all. And then you brood. Because you feel guilty. Still. After almost twenty years.
'I told you after the war, not a single witch or wizard out there blames you because a member of their family died. It was a war and people die in wars. Occupational hazard, if you will.'
'I know.' Harry pulled Ginny back, so she nestled against him. 'Still doesn't make it go away.'
'I know, love.'
Harry was silent for a moment. 'Did you know after the battle, there were two things I wanted to do?'
'No.' Ginny was surprised. He had all but disappeared in the hours after the battle, into the boys' dormitory of the Gryffindor tower, and slept for the next thirty-six hours straight. She had found him in his bed. He had collapsed into it, fully dressed and still filthy from the battle.
'Well, one I did. I just wanted to sleep in a real bed. It was the first real bed I'd slept in since September and Ron, Hermione and I had left Grimmauld Place. I was so exhausted, I thought I'd sleep for a week.'
'And the other?'
Harry squirmed in mortification. 'I wanted to find you and...' He blushed.
'What?' Ginny was fascinated now.
Harry leaned his head back, so he looked at the ceiling. 'I wanted to find you and take you up to my dormitory, lock the door, put a Silencing charm on it, and shag you senseless,' he confessed in a low voice.
Ginny stared at him in astonishment. 'Why?'
'I don't know. All the death and destruction. And you were so beautiful. And when I saw you come into the Room of Requirement, I realized how much I loved you, and how much I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.' He grinned at her in an abashed way and shrugged. 'I'm not sure how shagging you was supposed to communicate that...' He looked at Ginny. 'You must think I'm some sort of sick mental nutter right now, don't you?' She shook her head.
'Dad?' Al stood silhouetted in the doorway, dressed in baggy pajama bottoms and an oversize Montrose Magpies t-shirt, socks on his feet.
'How much did you hear?' Harry demanded. Ginny tried not the laugh at the mortified expression on Harry's face.
'Nothing.' Al edged into the room. 'I came in just now.' Ginny let out a muffled giggle as the nervous rigidity left Harry's body. Al shuffled to the chair and leaned against the armrest. 'I wanted to ask you something about today.'
Harry put an arm around his youngest son's shoulders. 'What do you want to know?'
'You said you had to die,' Al said slowly.
'Yes.'
'How did you die? If you're not dead?'
'You know how I told you I had part of Riddle's soul in me?' Al nodded in response. 'I had to be willing to die, and that part of Riddle couldn't be destroyed unless I died. There were these... things... that helped me. Because I didn't want to cheat death or live forever...' Harry ran his hand over Al's messy black hair. 'I owned all three of these magic things at the same time. They saved me.'
'What happened to them?' Al was wide-eyed attentiveness.
'One is buried, and hopefully will stay that way. One is lost, and hopefully forever. Those two are dangerous in the wrong hands and they need to stay lost.'
'And the third?'
Harry leaned to whisper in Al's ear. 'I still have it. I inherited it from my dad.'
'May I see it?' Excitement lit up Al's small face.
'Not tonight, squirt. Maybe before you go back to school.'
'Promise?'
'Promise.' Satisfied, Al turned and headed back to the sitting room. He stopped, and went back to the chair that Harry and Ginny still sat in.
'You know all that stuff you told us this afternoon?' he asked.
'Yes,' Ginny said. 'What about it?'
'It doesn't seem real. Like it happened to somebody else.'
'Believe me, son, it was real enough,' said Harry dryly.
'Yeah, but that person... It's almost like it happened to someone in one of those films out there,' Al said, gesturing toward the sitting room, where the deep, strident tones of Darth Vader rolled into the office. 'You... you're my mum and dad.' With that, Al padded back into the sitting room.
'Thank Merlin for that,' murmured Ginny.
SIX -- To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Harry shooed the four grumbling children upstairs. 'But, Dad, I'm not sleepy!' protested Lily, even as she yawned wide enough to split her face.
'Of course you're not,' Harry said, as he tucked Lily into bed.
'Dad?'
'Yes, Lily?'
'I don't understand all that stuff you and Uncle Ron, Mum, and Aunt Hermione said today.'
'I know. But if you want to ask me or your mum about anything, I promise, we'll try to answer it.'
Harry smoothed the vibrant hair away from Lily's face. 'But not right now,' he said, seeing the question come into Lily's head. 'It's late, and I know somebody who needs to go to sleep.'
'Really? Who?' Lily's eyes were creased with mischievous laughter.
'Someone named Lily Potter,' came Ginny's voice. 'You know her?'
'Never heard of her,' was Lily's automatic answer, followed by a giggle.
'Good night, Lils,' Ginny said, kissing Lily on the cheek.
'G'night, Mum.' Lily was already burrowing into her pillow, half asleep.
'Night, Lily.'
'Night, Dad,' Lily mumbled.
Harry closed the door, and he and Ginny went across the hall to Al's room. Scorpius looked up from his place in a camp bed, surprised to see Harry and Ginny in the doorway. Al jumped off his bed and embraced both Harry and Ginny in turn. 'Night, Mum. Night, Dad,' he told them, before climbing back into bed.
Ginny looked at Scorpius. 'Are you warm enough? Need an extra blanket?'
'No, thank you. I'm fine.'
Ginny nodded. 'All right, but if you need anything, we're just down the hall.' Scorpius gave a brief nod and began to methodically smooth the quilt over his legs. She smiled gently at him, and ran her hand over his head. 'Good night.'
Scorpius nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. He slid down and stretched out when Harry and Ginny closed the door. He had spent his life hearing about the Weasleys and Harry Potter, and not nice things, either. Mostly from his father and grandfather, but the way he had been treated by every Weasley and/or Potter at school, not to mention the rest of the family that afternoon, as well as the way Harry and Ginny themselves had treated him, made him doubt what he had learned as a small child. His stomach churned with the realization that one day, he might have to leave everything he knew behind and start all over again.
Scorpius rolled over and curled up, on the edge of sleep. The last conscious thought he had was to wonder why Lily didn't smell like other girls her age. Most nine-year old girls he knew smelled like jam. She smelled like sage and lavender. What was it about her hair?
Harry peeked into James' room. He'd been so touchy lately about anybody going into his room. But then again, he was thirteen. 'Hey, James,' he called softly into the room. James' head jerked up from the book he was reading.
'Hey.'
Harry went to sit on the edge of James' bed. 'James, I owe you an apology.'
'What for?' James' face bore a puzzled expression.
'I should have talked to you before you went to school.' Harry took in a deep breath. 'I made the same mistake with you that Dumbledore made with me. There was so much he didn't tell me about my parents or Riddle until I was almost sixteen. And he should have told me before that.' Harry's hand rose and brushed some of the fringe from James' dark blue eyes. 'I should have trusted that you were old enough to know about me, and that you could handle it.'
James looked at his father in shock. 'No worries, Dad,' he managed to stammer. James looked down at his book for a moment, and then leaned forward to hug Harry, much to Harry's surprise. James had been touchy about that, too.
Harry squeezed James tighter for a moment. 'Night, son.'
'G'night, Dad,' James mumbled into Harry's shoulder.
'Don't stay up too late, okay?'
'Thirty more minutes?'
'Okay. Then lights out.' Harry ruffled James' hair, then got up and left the room, closing the door. He smiled to himself. James always asked for thirty more minutes, and always fell asleep after roughly ten. The lamp was charmed to turn itself off at eleven because of that.
Harry went into his own bedroom, and brushed his teeth. He tiredly pulled off his clothes and left his jumper, shirt, and jeans in a heap on the floor next to his side of the bed. Wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt, Harry slid into bed, replaying the afternoon in the Burrow's kitchen. He opened his eyes when he felt Ginny get into bed next to him. Harry watched her finish the loose plait and throw the end over her shoulder. 'I don't know why you do that,' he commented. 'You know I'm just going to undo at some point in the middle of the night.'
Ginny put her head on his shoulder, draping herself over his body. 'It gives you something to do when you wake up at night.' She shifted her position slightly, so she could see his face. 'I heard what you said to James.'
'Oh?'
'Yes.' Ginny ran her hand down Harry's arm, and laced her fingers through his. 'It was a nice thing to say.'
'I meant it, too.' Harry brought their interlaced hands up to his mouth, and he kissed Ginny's fingertips. 'We should have told them before they started school,' he admitted. 'We should have said something a long time ago...'
'Well, perhaps not everything,' Ginny murmured, stifiling a yawn in Haryr's shoulder. 'At least they know now.' Ginny reached up and captured Harry's mouth with her own. 'Are you going to be able to sleep?' Her brow furrowed in a frown. Harry was still prone to nightmares, even after nearly two decades after the end of the war.
'I think I'll be all right.' Harry's hands crept to Ginny's back, and he slid the hair elastic off the end of the plait, and undid the loose weave, spreading the auburn ripples over her back. He grinned crookedly at her. 'Thought I'd get started early tonight.'
'Silly boy.'
'G'night, Gin.'
Quirrell unwrapping that turban, revealing a face on the back of his head... Ron lying motionless on the chessboard, after the white queen captured him...Hermione Petrified... The Acromantulas... Ginny lying on the damp dirty floor of the Chamber, her long flaming hair trailing in the water that trickled down the center of the walkway... Sirius in the filthy Azkaban robes, teeth bared in a grimace holding a wand over Wormtail... Remus transforming before his eyes... Cedric's body in the graveyard... his parents coming out of Riddle's wand... Cedric begging him to take his body back to school... Mad-Eye, not Mad-Eye, turning into Barty Crouch, Jr.... Umbridge's quill slicing "I must not tell lies" into the back of his hand... The prophecy... Sirius falling through the Veil... Riddle attempting to possess his body... The Sectumsempra spell slashing across Malfoy, blood blossoming on the dirty tile of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom... Dumbledore in the cave, the Inferi rising out of the water... The Dark Mark over Hogwarts... Dumbledore's lifeless body falling over the parapet to the ground... Snape's face as he sent the Killing Curse at a weakened Dumbledore... The flight from Privet Drive... George's ear... Hedwig's death... Mad-Eye's disappearance and death... Death Eaters invading the wedding... The Atrium at the Ministry after Riddle took over... All those months on the run... Nagini coming out of Bathilda's body... The locket and Ron's expression of horror and revulsion before he finally stabbed it... Snape's body lying in an ever-widening pool of blood in the Shrieking Shack... Dobby... Fred... Remus... Tonks... Colin...
Faster and faster the images blurred through Harry's mind. He wasn't aware of Ginny trying to shake him awake, or his body thrashing, pulling the bedclothes awry. It was only when he fell out of the bed did he wake. Harry's eyes opened and instead of the sight of the bodies in the Great Hall, he saw his crumpled jeans under his nose. Panting, he sat up and looked around the dark bedroom, disoriented. 'Harry?' Ginny crouched in front of him, her hand touching his hand. He jerked his hand away as if burned.
'Don't touch me, Ginny,' he rasped. Ginny bit back a sharp retort and sat back on her heels.
Harry pushed himself to his feet and unsteadily walked to a window. He stared out at the snowy hills, hands braced on the sill.
'Harry?' The concern in Ginny's voice deepened. He hadn't had a nightmare this bad since before James was born. She reached out a tentative hand to his shoulder.
'I said, don't touch me!' Harry rounded on her, eyes burning. Ginny's eyes rounded in shock. She took a step back. Harry's shoulders slumped. 'I'm sorry, Gin,' he whispered. 'I can't... not right now.' He turned back to the silent dark countryside outside the window. 'Go back to bed.'
Ginny ran a hand through her hair, and picked up her wand. She used it to put the bedding back on the bed and climbed into it. She sat up against the headboard, and watched Harry deal with the guilt. It had never really healed completely. He had nightmares for weeks after the last battle and struggled with insomnia. Working with Shacklebolt had turned his focus from the aftermath of the war to the struggle to put things back to rights and that had helped. Living at the Burrow had helped, too. Arthur and Molly had sat him down before she had gone back to school that autumn and had a long talk with him. It helped with the guilt that simmered under the surface. But Ginny knew it was still there and prone to well up at unexpected moments. The last time had been over two years ago when Teddy finished school.
Harry only turned around when he heard Ginny's even breathing, announcing she had gone back to sleep. He dropped into the old armchair in the corner, and conjured a blanket for himself. After tucking it around his bare legs, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He usually didn't speak so harshly to Ginny, but if he had touched her when he woke up --
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He had never told her why he sometimes woke her up in the middle of the night to make love to her. She was his antidote. She was real. And he needed something real to banish the nightmarish images. It hadn't been this bad since he was eighteen. Every time he had had a nightmare like this since then, he'd woken up achingly hard. And Harry had to admit to himself he would have been mindlessly rough with Ginny, had he taken her when he first surfaced from the nightmare.
And God help him - that was what he wanted.
Ginny woke up, automatically reaching for Harry. His side of the bed was cold and empty. She sat up, shoving her hair away from her face. Harry had dozed off in the armchair, snoring lightly. Ginny looked at the clock, and saw that it was only three in the morning. She quietly got up and found her dressing gown. She pulled it on and softly opened the door of their bedroom, closing it with a muted click.
James first. His room was closest. She opened the door a crack, and peeped in at her oldest child. He slept like Harry did, sprawled across the bed. He also slept like the dead. Nothing except an explosion could wake him up. Ginny truly felt sorry for the other boys in his dorm. She recalled with astounding clarity all those mornings they had to try to wake him up for school before he went to Hogwarts. Ginny silently closed the door, and went across the hall to Al's room.
Al slept like Harry. A sound sleeper, he could wake up at the slightest noise. He was the main reason they had to put Silencing charms on their bedroom door. Ginny smiled to herself. Al had been three when he had heard them one night and burst into the room, stuffed dragon raised high, ready to battle whatever horrible beast that was making those terrible groaning noises. But tonight, he was sleeping soundly. Ginny glanced at Scorpius. He was curled into a tight ball, a worn teddy peeking over the edge of the quilt. Ginny smiled and closed the door. Lily next, then.
Lily didn't move much when she slept. Once she settled to sleep, she pretty much stayed there. Lily reminded her so much of herself at that age. Impatient, bright, chatty, and dear Merlin, more willful than a roomful of Weasleys. Ginny knew Lily had Harry wrapped around her little finger the moment she'd been born. That had happened so fast, Harry had to deliver her. Ginny closed the door and padded back down to her bedroom.
Harry was still sleeping in the armchair. Ginny stood and watched him, torn between leaving him be, or waking him and urging him back into bed. They relied so much on each other. She didn't realize how much until Al was born six weeks too early, and they spent a week sitting next to him, watching every breath he took, until they had been assured by the Healers he would be all right. She and Harry had forced each other to eat, and if not sleep in a bed, sleep in the rocker next to Al's cot at St. Mungo's.
Ginny knelt next to the chair, and gently touched Harry on the arm. 'Harry?' she whispered. His eyes flew open, and he pulled Ginny onto his lap.
'I'm sorry, Gin. I'm so sorry,' he said, his voice grainy with sleep.
'Shhhh.' Ginny stroked the back of his neck. 'Come to bed with me?' He jerked slightly, and she deepened the gentle massage to his neck. 'Please? It's cold, and I don't sleep well without you,' she pleaded.
Harry nodded mutely. Ginny slid off his lap and Harry stood up. Ginny took his hand to lead him back to bed, but he stopped her. 'Ginny, wait.' She turned with a questioning look on her face. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it in the chair, then took off his boxers. Completely nude, he tugged the belt of Ginny's dressing gown until it came untied, and he pushed it off her shoulders. Swallowing audibly, he pulled her closer and inched the nightdress up until he could lift it over her head. 'Okay,' he whispered.
Ginny tucked him into bed, like he was Lily, and then slipped into her side. She had no more than lay down when he reached for her. Hungrily, he kissed her, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips. Harry needed to feel her under him, around him. He shifted so one knee rested between Ginny's thighs and his fingers wove into her hair. Driven by the need to touch her, he slid one hand down her body, and between them. Ginny moaned softly in his ear, her teeth nibbling the slightly stubbly skin under his jaw. 'Ginny... I...' Harry kissed her shoulder. 'I can't promise it won't be...' Sighing, Harry pressed his forehead to Ginny's and met her wide brown eyes. 'It might be...' Harry wildly fished for an appropriate word, swearing softly when he couldn't find one. 'It won't be like last night,' he finally finished, his cheeks reddening slightly.
Ginny's only reply was to pull his head back down for a kiss, and to wrap her legs around his hips. Harry thrust into her, gathering her wrists together in one hand, holding them over her head. He knew he was probably hurting her, but at that point, he didn't care. He felt Ginny's mouth on his neck, and that only urged him to make it harder. Dimly, he was aware of Ginny meeting him, thrust for thrust. He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly to him. Clenching his teeth against the inevitable, he found Ginny's mouth, and kissed her, wondering who on earth was making those whimpering sounds. He climaxed with a guttural shout, muffled by Ginny's lips. Harry lowered his head to Ginny's shoulder, unable to move just yet. As the blood singing in his ears slowed, he was aware of dampness on his cheeks that had nothing to do with his recent activity. Ginny's hand floated up from the darkness and brushed the tears from his face.
Harry fell asleep draped over Ginny. She lay awake, one hand twirling a lock of hair, the other entwined in one of Harry's that rested on her breast. She turned her head carefully, so as not to wake him. He looked like he was no more than seventeen or eighteen when he was sleeping. The moonlight poured through the window, highlighting the faded scar on his forehead, and the ones his body still bore from the months trying to find the Horcruxes. 'It's not your fault,' she whispered, nearly soundlessly. Ginny eventually fell asleep inhaling the scent of Harry's body.
'Mum? Dad?' James' voice called through the heavy wooden door. Ginny and Harry both bolted upright, the bedding twisted around their bodies.
'Damn,' Ginny swore softly looking at the clock. It was after nine. She was late.
'What is it, James?' Harry's voice was thick with sleep.
'Is it okay if we go sledding?'
'Have you eaten breakfast?' Ginny asked, rubbing her hands over her face.
'Yes, Mum. We had toast and cereal.' James replied, getting slightly annoyed at the inquisition. 'We're not all ickle firsties,' he said under his breath.
'Fine, go. Just be back by lunch,' Harry said, flopping back into his pillow and curling on his side, facing Ginny.
Ginny mimicked his actions and closed her eyes. 'I think I'm going to stay here today. I can write my piece just as well here as I can in London. I'll just owl it over. It's not going in the paper until later this week anyway.' Ginny opened one eye to find Harry staring at her. 'Do I have something on my face?'
'I'm sorry about last night.'
'What part?'
'Erm... the part where we went back to bed.' He gently touched her shoulder where a clearly defined bite showed on her pale skin. 'I didn't mean to hurt you.'
'You didn't hurt me. If you recall, I was a willing participant.' Ginny touched his collarbone. 'You didn't come out of it unscathed, either, my lad,' she stated, tracing the purplish mark that flowed over it. 'Want to tell me about it?'
Harry's eyes drifted shut. 'It was everything. From my first year until the last battle.' His throat constricted around the words. 'Images, like Muggle photographs.' He toyed with the ends of Ginny's hair. 'It's not always like that, when I get them,' he confessed. 'It's not everything like that.' He passed a hand over his eyes tiredly. 'The last time I dreamed like that was when Teddy finished school,' he murmured. 'Then it was just seeing Remus and Tonks in the Hall.'
Ginny traced the contours of his face with her fingertips, attempting to soothe the lines of strain away. 'It's just a dream,' she said. 'Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.' She drew his mouth to hers. 'Not if I have anything to say about it,' she added. 'Go back to sleep. I'm going to get some work done while the heathens are outside.'
Harry nodded and burrowed into the pillows. Ginny swung out of bed and quickly dressed. She ran a hand down the back of Harry's head, bending to kiss his temple before heading downstairs.
Harry pulled the quilt around his shoulders, bringing it up to his nose. It smelled like Ginny. Sighing, he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. It was rather like trying to empty his mind for Occlumency.
Waking up in his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory to find Ginny curled in a chair, watching him sleep, almost like she was guarding him... Ginny standing in front of him in his flat, wearing that nightdress with the violets embroidered on it... The first time he felt James kick when Ginny was pregnant with him... The first time Albus grabbed his finger the week he'd been born... Being the first person to touch Lily as she shot into the world, a head full of flame-bright hair, squalling angrily at her change in situation... Taking Teddy to Diagon Alley to buy his school things... Doing the same thing with James and Albus... Hearing each of the children call him 'Da' for the first time... Ginny on her broom, her dark-green-and-gold robes streaming behind her, as she hurled the Quaffle into the goalpost... Ginny standing next to him on their wedding day, with tiny white flowers woven into her hair, sliding the ring on his finger... Slipping away from the reception to the old tree house in the oak tree at the bottom of the paddock to make love to his wife...
The images slowly stopped flickering, and Harry's body relaxed in sleep.
SEVEN -- Everything But the Beak and Feet
'Mum?' Ginny looked up from her article. Lily stood in the doorway, twirling the end of her ponytail around a finger. 'Can I ask you something?'
Ginny put her quill down, and rested her chin on an upturned hand. 'Sure.'
'Why does Scorpius have nightmares?' Lily came all the way in the office and plopped into one of the armchairs.
'People dream about different things,' Ginny said, toying with her quill. When Lily gave her a dubious sort of look, Ginny bit her lower lip, unsure if she should expose someone else's past to her children.
'He was saying something about a snake,' Lily supplied helpfully.
Ginny tapped the point of the quill on the blotter, then connected the resulting dots, trying to figure out how to explain the Dark Mark to her nine-year old daughter. 'Well... You know those people we fought in the war? The Death Eaters? The ones who didn't like anyone but purebloods?' Lily nodded. 'They had a symbol,' Ginny began, and saw a brief look of incomprehension flash across Lily's face. 'Like how the boys all have a lion on their uniforms to show they're in Gryffindor,' Ginny explained. Lily's face cleared and she looked at Ginny expectantly. 'So, those people, they had a sort of tattoo on the inside of their forearm. It was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.' Ginny realized her hands were shaking. She clasped them together in her lap before continuing. 'It was called the Dark Mark.'
'It sounds scary,' Lily responded.
'It was.' Ginny got up and went to sit on the arm of the chair Lily occupied. 'Scorpius' father fought on the other side in the war. He had -- has -- one of those Marks.'
'Is that why Scorpius sort of gutted when Dad rolled up his sleeves Saturday night?'
Ginny nodded. 'He was really young when he saw it. Younger than you. He'd never seen it before, so...'
'So it scared him,' Lily finished.
'Yes.'
Lily was quiet for a moment. 'Mum?'
'Yes?'
'Is Scorpius' father still a Death Eater?'
'I don't think so, Lils. His family suffered a great deal under Riddle.'
'Does he still believe half-bloods and Muggle-borns are bad?'
'I don't know, Lily.'
'Does Scorpius?' Lily was starting to look more than a little worried.
'No,' Ginny stated emphatically.
'How do you know?'
'He's a Gryffindor,' Ginny replied. 'The Sorting Hat doesn't usually make mistakes.'
'Has it before?' Lily asked, engrossed in the conversation.
Ginny hesitated. 'Yes and no.'
'I don't understand,' Lily said her nose scrunched in confusion.
'When this person was a first-year, where he was Sorted was probably the right place for him, but later, when he had grown up, he changed. And if it hadn't been for him, your dad would have gotten in a lot more trouble than he already did at school.'
The back door slammed, and the house filled with the sounds of excited boys, struggling with wet shoelaces, stubborn coat buttons, and proclaiming with various degrees of bravado how they could eat a hippogriff. Except for the beak and feet, of course. 'I think it's time for lunch,' Ginny said lightly, eager to end the conversation.
Lily shot into the kitchen and dived for her place at the table. Ginny tended to cook with magic more than Harry, especially when faced with a room full of hungry children, but Lily knew from long experience that if you didn't eat fast, you didn't eat. It was Rule Number One among the cousins. Besides, Rose and Hugo seemed to inherit their father's appetite, and food could be a scarce commodity around them. Scorpius looked slightly startled at Lily's behavior, even though he was used to seeing the Weasleys and Potters fall on a meal as if it were their last at school. He hadn't been expcting to see it outside of Hogwarts. Ginny put a plate of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice on the table. 'It's not quite a hippogriff, boys, but there should be plenty for even you lot,' Ginny said, taking a sandwich for herself.
''S Dah a'ri?' asked James, cheeks distended with a large bite of his sandwich.
'Swallow first, then talk, James,' Ginny reprimanded mildly. They had tried to instill table manners into their children. Ginny thought it was only fair after forcing people to watch Ron eat at the Gryffindor table.
James made an effort to swallow the bite whole. 'Is Dad all right?' he repeated.
'He's fine. Why?' Ginny put a plate of ginger biscuits on the table
'You and Dad never have a lie-in,' piped up Lily.
'Yeah, you or Dad usually have to drag us out of bed for breakfast,' remarked Al.
'He's fine. We were just up late last night,' Ginny said firmly. 'Eat your lunch,' she told them, signaling the discussion was over. She glanced up at the ceiling. The shower in their bathroom was running.
Harry woke up, feeling like he'd drunk an entire bottle of Firewhisky. He blindly patted the night table for his glasses, and shoved them on his nose. It was after noon. Groaning, he sat up, and pushed the bedding aside. He usually didn't sleep this late. Having three children under the age of fifteen usually meant sleeping past seven was a luxury. Harry heaved to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom for a shower, hoping it would clear his head. He turned the water to as hot as he could stand it, and ducked under the spray.
He sighed as the hot water hit his shoulders. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding Harry it had been nearly a full day since he had last eaten. If he weren't so hungry, he would have gone for a nice soak to ease his tense muscles, but the lure of food was too strong. Cutting his shower short, Harry quickly dried himself, and dressed before going down to the kitchen.
Ginny was sitting at the table, jabbing her wand at the remains of the children's lunch. 'Hi,' he said, kissing Ginny. 'What's for lunch? I'm starved.'
Ginny snorted. 'You think three boys left enough lunch to feed you?'
'Right.' Harry twirled his wand through his fingers, pacing restlessly, poking through cupboards, still almost too keyed up to focus on the seemingly inordinate task of feeding himself.
'Harry, sit down, I'll get you something.'
Gratefully, Harry sat at the table and let Ginny handle his lunch. 'How are the kids?'
Ginny looked out the window. 'Fine. Out playing again.' She set a plate of sandwiches and fruit in front of Harry. 'Lily asked about the Mark.' Harry nearly dropped his sandwich. 'She asked about Scorpius and his nightmares, and it led to telling her what it was,' she clarified. Ginny snagged a handful of grapes from Harry's plate. 'She asked if he had the same ideas as his father.'
'That's a bit deep for a nine-year old, isn't it?'
'It's a logical assumption to make.' Ginny curled into her chair. 'Al practically worships the ground you walk on. And,' she added, 'Fred and Jacob are just like George. Not quite the troublemakers Fred and George were, but who is?' Harry grinned. It was true. The portable swamp they made their seventh year was still in the corridor. Flitwick wouldn't let anyone get rid of it totally. 'At any rate, we dumped a lot of information on their heads yesterday.'
'I guess so.' An owl tapped on the window, with a dark purple envelope in its beak. Cursing under his breath, Harry went to open the window and retrieve the letter. 'It's from the office,' he told Ginny, opening the envelope. Scanning it quickly, he looked at the owl, sitting on their perch in the corner. 'I'll be right back with an answer, all right?' Harry went into the office, and scribbled a reply, then took his answer back to the owl.
'That group in Ireland flaring up?' The Aurors usually didn't have to send Harry messages at home, unless it was an emergency.
'No. Just a note letting me know Malfoy and his wife did go to Nice.'
'You keep tabs on Malfoy?' Ginny's eyebrows went up in shock.
'We keep tabs on all former Death Eaters who are alive and not in Azkaban,' Harry said flatly. 'But when Malfoy goes to visit his parents, the French Ministry is required to track his movements, and keep us appraised of them, not just keep it to themselves.'
'I didn't know that,' Ginny murmured, frowning.
'It's not exactly public knowledge,' he informed her.
'No, I would guess not.' Ginny quietly cleared the table, and began to put the pieces together for dinner. 'Why do you do it?'
Harry got up and began to peel potatoes next to her, eager to have something to do with his hands. 'We started doing it after the war. We didn't want to be caught by surprise if somebody decided they wanted to reactivate the Death Eaters. There are not a lot of them, thankfully. And most of them were ruined financially, so they can't really go anywhere that requires a Portkey. We've also got Aurors located regionally who quietly keep their eye on things.' He looked at her and gave her a crooked grin. 'Sort of like Muggle police stations. It was my idea,' he said bashfully.
'I'd ask why you didn't tell me before, but I can understand something like that being kept secret.' Ginny wiped the counter with a sponge, and threw it in the sink.
The laughter of the three boys floated in from the back. A village of snowmen was beginning to litter the back garden, while Lily determinedly tried to sprinkle in a few snowwomen. Harry's gaze rested on his daughter, struggling to keep up with the boys. 'I think I'm going to go give Lils a hand,' he decided. 'She's a bit outnumbered.'
Ginny left the kitchen and wandered into the sitting room. A set of knitting needles caught her eye. Feeling as restless as Harry had been earlier, she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her story that afternoon. At least her deadline wasn't until the day after tomorrow. Plenty of time. She'd written more in less. She turned her head toward the back, hearing Scorpius' voice float over James and Al's. Coming to a decision of her own, Ginny fetched her workbasket from a corner of the sitting room.
She pulled out three sets of mittens, scarves, and hats. Like Molly's jumpers, these were her traditional Christmas gift to her children. They got other things, but they could always count on a new pair of mittens with a matching scarf and hat. This year, James' was bright candy-apple red. Like that ridiculous convertible Harry drove when they had gone to America on a holiday last summer. Al's were maroon, which made Ginny laugh to herself. Ron's least favorite color, but his nephew adored it. Lily's were a rosy pink. She was in a girlie kind of stage. Everything was all about butterflies, fairies, and enough pink to make a boy gag. Ginny herself had gone though the same stage.
Ginny rummaged through the basket, pulling out skeins of yarn, trying to find one that would fit Scorpius' fair skin and near-white blonde hair. Blue,' she mused. Ginny pulled out a skein of blue, considering it. Not quite. She dug into the mass of yarn and pulled out a skein the clean, clear blue of the ocean. 'That's it,' she murmured, and set an enchanted set of needles to make the mittens, while she did the scarf.
'What'cha doing, Mum?' James strolled into the sitting room, a double handful of biscuits in his hands.
'Making a Christmas gift for Scorpius.'
'But you barely know him,' James pointed out.
Ginny set her needles down and looked at James. 'It's the same thing your grandmum would do. It's the same thing she did do.'
'Really? For who?' James crammed three biscuits in his mouth.
'For your dad. His first year.'
'Why? Did Dad not get to go home for the holiday?'
Ginny sighed. Explaining the Dursleys wasn't easy to adults, much less thirteen-year olds. And she'd only really met them the one time before she married Harry. 'The people your dad lived with -- his aunt and uncle -- didn't like him very much. Actually,' Ginny admitted, 'they didn't like wizards or witches very much.'
'Why?' James was flabbergasted. A Muggle-born in his class told him his parents had been shocked, but they'd gotten over it soon enough.
Ginny smiled sadly. 'They don't like people who are different. Almost like the opposite of the pureblood fanatics. Your dad wasn't welcome during the Christmas and Easter holidays and was only welcome during the summer because they had to take him.' She picked up her knitting. 'That first year, when Mum found out he'd have to stay at school and might not get anything for Christmas from Ron, she immediately made a jumper for him and added it to the others. She'd only seen your dad once at the train platform that September. But she couldn't stand the idea of anyone not having anything at all to open on Christmas morning.'
James regarded his mother, a sober expression in his limpid blue eyes. 'So you think Scorpius won't get anything from his parents?'
'I'm not sure. But at least he'll have something.' James watched Ginny knit for a few more minutes.
'Why has everyone looked so shocked when they see Scorpius? Uncle George looked like he was going to be sick. So did Dad and Uncle Ron...'
'That's easy. Scorpius looks just like his father. And your dad and his father did not get on well at school. Actually,' Ginny corrected herself, 'Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin and didn't get on with any of us in Gryffindor. Especially your dad, your uncles, me, most of your aunts.' Ginny looked at James. 'With Malfoy, it went beyond normal House rivalries. Almost like a vendetta.' She shrugged. 'Sometimes, it's hard to let go of the past, and there are people your dad doesn't trust. When you go through as much as your dad at the hands of Draco and Lucius Malfoy, you tend to hold something of a grudge.'
James nibbled the last biscuit, thinking. 'Did Dad think Scorpius was going to cause trouble because he's related to Draco Malfoy? I mean, he's in Gryffindor!'
Ginny leaned over to James, and kissed his cheek. 'I know that. But your dad can get more stubborn than just about all my brothers put together sometimes. It's all right, James,' Ginny added, seeing the look of worry settle into his eyes. 'Your dad's fine with Scorpius. Just had to get to know him a little, eh?' James nodded. 'Now, go back out, before they think I made you do chores or something, and you will have some tomorrow, young man. And take the rest of the biscuits with you, if there's any left. The others might want one or two.'
'Yes, Mum.' James turned toward the kitchen. 'Mum?'
'Yes?'
'Thanks.'
'Not at all.'
The following morning, after Ginny had left to go to the Prophet office, a package arrived addressed to Ginny and Harry. Harry set it on his desk, and tried to wait for Ginny to come home, but it sat on his desk, begging him to open it, as he supervised Al, James, and Scorpius sorting through their uniforms for the laundry, made Lily do her homework for school, cajoled James into cleaning the bathroom the children shared without magic and did everything he could think of, besides going into the office, and opening that package -- even the laundry, which he hated doing and secretly believed Ron mucked up on purpose years ago to get out of doing the job.
He carried a basket of the boys' uniform shirts past the office. The package sat on his desk, looking as if a light shone on it deliberately. Muttering things about packages addressed to two people and not needing to wait for others to get home, he untied the string on the package and unwrapped the paper. A letter sat on top of a tastefully wrapped gift, bearing his and Ginny's names. Harry frowned and checked the tag. It was for Scorpius from his parents. Or at least his mother and she had put Malfoy's name on it, too. Harry sat down and opened the letter.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter,
Thank you for allowing Scorpius to stay with you over the holiday. I hope it won't be too much of an imposition on your family. I'm grateful he won't have to spend Christmas alone at school.
Please make sure he gets this Christmas morning.
Sincerely,
Daphne Malfoy
ps -- Could you please tell Scorpius that we're going to be with his grandparents until further notice? Mr. Malfoy is quite ill.
Harry set the letter aside to show Ginny later, and picked up the package from the desk. He buried it under the boys' clean shirts and took it upstairs to his bedroom to hide in the wardrobe with the other gifts. He closed the wardrobe door and looked at the photograph of Sirius and him that had been taken that Christmas they stayed at Grimmauld Place.
Sirius would have been delighted that a Black descendant with two Slytherin parents had been Sorted into Gryffindor. And he would have relished the chance to corrupt the poor unsuspecting child even further. Harry snorted softly. Scorpius didn't seem to need much pushing to embrace so-called corruption. The scene they had created in the back garden yesterday was evidence enough. Scorpius had shown the boys an American Muggle comic strip collection called Calvin and Hobbes. The young boy in the strips had a predilection for creating insanely twisted snowman scenes. The boys, needless to say had been inspired. Scorpius seemed to take an unholy amount of quiet glee in doing anything his father would have disliked while he was a guest in the house. Even something as small as using a Muggle comic for inspiration.
Harry folded the last shirt and grinned to himself.
There was hope for Scorpius after all.
EIGHT -- Man U Red
James bounded into Al's room early on Christmas morning. 'Wake up!' he shouted. 'Presents!'
Al's head emerged from under his quilt. His hair was even more disheveled than usual. 'What are you? Two?' he grumbled as he untangled himself from the bedclothes. But his protests had fallen on deaf ears. James was already bursting through the door to wake Lily.
'Is this normal?' Scorpius asked Al groggily from the camp bed.
'It's the only day of the year he wakes up early voluntarily,' sighed Al.
'Lily! Come on! Get up! Why are you still sleeping?' James' voice floated back into Al's room.
'Blimey, James. It's not even six in the morning,' Lily whined.
'It's Christmas morning!' James sang.
'So?' Lily challenged. Al could hear the rustle of bedclothes, as Lily tried to snuggle back into bed.
James couldn't believe it. Nobody wanted to get up. He rolled his eyes, thinking that since he did this every year, they should be used to it. He eyed the lump that was his baby sister, and grasped the edge of her quilt. He yanked it off her bed. 'You can sleep later,' he informed Lily loftily, tugging her out of bed, and dragging her toward Al's room, ignoring her muted protestations. Lily dropped on the first thing she came to, which happened to be the end of the camp bed containing Scorpius. James came tearing back in to Al's room, his arms full of his presents and Lily's, pausing to dump Lily's next to her feet, and then bounced on the end of Al's bed.
Scorpius checked the floor at the foot of the camp bed. There was a package he knew was from his mother, recognizing the carefully wrapped box that usually appeared every year. There was also something else. It was a bit lumpy, and he noticed Al, Lily, and James each had one, too. Setting that one aside, he opened the one from his mother. Inside were the usual things his father would have given him: high-quality eagle feather quills, ink, and parchment. Scorpius barely glanced at them, before unearthing a large volume on magical plants and herbs of Polynesia. He flipped through the book, and looked back inside the box. A layer of old editions of the Prophet lined what appeared to be the bottom of the box. He pulled the newspapers out, revealing the magically-enhanced bottom and his mouth dropped open while his cheeks flushed with pleasure. Nobody else but his mother would have given him this. She must have gone into Muggle London for these. Another book with that boy and his tiger and something called a Magic 8 Ball.
Curiously, Scorpius examined at the lurid box. 'Ask it a question, and see what it says?' He squinted at the black-and-white ball in his hands, and thought for a moment. 'Is today going to be a good day?' he murmured. He flipped the ball over to see, 'Reply hazy. Try again,' floating in a window. He broke into giggles. It was about as useful as Madeline's descriptions of Divination.
'What'chat got?' asked James from his perch on Al's bed. Scorpius tossed the ball to him.
'Ask it a question and turn it over to see what it says.'
James squeezed his eyes shut. 'Will I get a racing broom this year?' He turned the ball over. 'My sources say no,' he read. 'Mental,' James pronounced, tossing it back to Scorpius.
'Yeah, it's brilliant,' breathed Scorpius. His father might have been rubbish at picking out gifts that Scorpius really liked, but his mother always came through with flying colors. The lumpy package beckoned. Scorpius looked at the tag. It was from the Potters. Whatever it was, it was squishy. He opened it, and found a pile of blue wool. It reminded him of the sea by his grandparents' home in Nice. Scorpius separated out a hat, scarf and pair of mittens.
'Put them on!' Lily's voice broke through his thoughts. He hadn't noticed James, Al, and Lily had put their own on over their pajamas. 'Got the camera, James?' James nodded, holding up the camera. 'We always take a photograph for Mum and Dad,' Lily explained, pulling him over to Al's disordered bed.
James arranged the camera so all four of them were in the frame, before scrambling back into place, and jabbing his wand at the camera. 'Say Fizzing Whizbee,' he said. The cameral flashed brightly, temporarily blinding them all. 'Ought to be a good one this year,' he told them, as he left the room.
Scorpius slid off Al's bed and retrieved the 8-Ball. 'Will today be a good day?' he barely whispered, holding it in his mittened hands. Closing his eyes, he turned the ball over. 'Without a doubt,' he read. 'I think so, too.'
'When do you think Mum and Dad will be up?' yawned Lily.
Al glanced at his clock. It wasn't yet six-thirty. 'Couple of hours maybe.' He slumped against the wall, the adrenaline from earlier already wearing off. 'I think I might get a bit more sleep. It's going to be a madhouse at the Burrow later.' Al slid under the quilt and pulled it around his shoulders.
'Me, too,' Lily mumbled from the foot of the camp bed, already curled across it and half-asleep.
Scorpius tucked his quilt over her, and sat on the other end of the bed, studying the books his mother sent him. He set the one about the magical plants aside. It could wait until later. Besides, reading about Calvin and his pet tiger was one of his favorite things to do. Maybe he could find some ideas for a snowman or two in the pages.
Scorpius thought he'd grown accustomed to seeing Al's whole family in one place last Sunday afternoon. But when he tumbled out of the fireplace, he was greeted with the raucous sounds of most of the Weasley family crammed into one room. Christmas with his family had nothing on this. He stood up and brushed himself off, only to take a header on the rug, when Lily shot out of the fireplace behind him, and slammed into his back.
Coughing, he spluttered when someone with green hair pulled him to his feet, and pounded his back a few times. 'Stop...' he choked, waving his hands around.
'Did I hit you too hard?' asked Teddy.
'No, I'm okay.' Scorpius looked up at Teddy, goggling a little at how he had managed green-and-red stripes. 'Nice hair,' he commented. 'Very festive.'
'Victoire likes it,' Teddy said defensively.
'She has to like it,' retorted James, who had come out of the fireplace a moment earlier. 'She's the one doing the kissy-face thing with you.'
'Fine,' grumbled Teddy, scrunching his face briefly. His hair turned bright red. 'Better?' he asked James.
'Much.' James ran up the stairs looking for Jacob and Fred.
'C'mere, Scorpius,' Teddy said, taking Scorpius by the hand. He led him to an armchair, where Andromeda sat talking to Molly. 'Hey, Gran, this is Scorpius. Scorp, this is my grandmother, Andromeda Tonks.'
Scorpius looked into the face of a woman who resembled his grandmother, but for the hair and eyes. 'Hello,' he said shyly, ducking his head.
'Have you been having a good holiday?' Andromeda asked kindly.
'Oh, yes! It's been the best. And Mrs. Potter made these for me for Christmas,' Scorpius said excitedly, holding up his mittened hands.
'Scorpius Teddy, let's go! The snowball fight's getting started!' Al called from the kitchen door.
'It was nice meeting you!' said Scorpius brightly and he and Teddy went to the kitchen and out the back door to the snowy garden.
Harry sat down near Andromeda. 'It's a little strange isn't it? To see what Draco might have been like as a child?'
'It reminds me of what Narcissa looked like, before she went to school,' Andromeda mused. 'And he's not in Slytherin. Interesting. I wonder how that happened.' She laughed a little. 'Rather like Sirius, isn't he?'
'Only a little. He doesn't get quite the pleasure out of flouting tradition as Sirius did.'
'Sirius would have hated anything his parents liked, just on principle,' Andromeda stated.
'His mother seems to be nice,' Harry offered. 'She sent a gift to the house for him.'
'Daphne? Oh, yes, she's turned out to be quite a nice girl. Narcissa's written to me about her a time or two and tells me she doesn't try to instill all that nonsense about blood status into Scorpius. Lets him follow his interests. Looks like its working.'
'Working?' Harry looked at Andromeda sideways. 'What do you mean by that?'
'From what Narcissa describes, deep inside Daphne's oh-so-proper pureblood exterior, marches a rebel. And she'd rather have Scorpius grow up happy, than try to stuff him into some role that's been picked out for him before he was born, and make him unhappy. I wasn't sure it would actually work, with Draco for a father. Scorpius isn't at all what I thought he would be like.'
'That explains a lot,' Harry considered. 'Teddy seems to likes him a lot.'
'Teddy's thrilled to have another family member other than his grandmother,' Andromeda said wryly. 'Not that he doesn't love yours like it was his own, but...' She shrugged.
'I know exactly how he feels.'
George lobbed squashy packages around the sitting room. '...Owen, Aidan, Patrick, Nicky, Alex, Hugo, Teddy, Katie, Bronwyn, Fleur, Mrs. Tonks --'
'George, you don't have to call me Mrs. Tonks,' Andromeda reminded him with a longsuffering sigh.
'Mrs. Tonks, the last time I tried to call you Andromeda, Mum smacked me on the back of the head.' George shook his head. 'Sorry, but I really don't want to repeat that.' He fished one of the last packages from under the tree. 'And here's one for Scorpius,' he said, only a faint note of surprise coloring his voice. Recovering quickly, George doled out the rest of the presents from Molly.
'Yes!' Ron shouted. 'Yes! It's not maroon! Finally!' He leapt across the room and threw himself on Molly. 'Thank you, Mum.' The jumper dangled from Ron's hands. It was the same shade of blue as his eyes.
'It only took thirty-seven years,' Ginny said in an undertone to Harry, who snickered. Ron's yearly maroon jumper was an endless source of amusement to the rest of the family. She dug ten sickles out of the pocket of her jeans and passed them to James. 'What did you do? Bribe Mum?' she asked.
'Nope.' James fluttered his eyelashes innocently.
'Yeah, I'll bet,' Ginny muttered.
'Oh, Molly! Where'd you find Man U red?' Teddy loved football, taught all the cousins how to play, and when the weather was warmer, cajoled everyone into playing a match. Teddy pulled the jumper over his head, and began to chant under his breath. 'Who's the team they call United? Who's the team they all adore?They're the boys in red and white/And they play with all their might,/And they're out to show the world how they can score!' He would go to Old Trafford to watch the matches with his hair in red and white stripes. All the Muggles around him just assumed he had dyed his hair.
Scorpius had all but forgotten the package on his lap, until Al nudged him. 'Aren't you going to open it?'
'Oh! Yes.' Scorpius pulled open the paper and a jumper, just like the ones the others had received, lay inside.
Ginny leaned down. 'Why don't you try it on and see how it fits?' she suggested. Scorpius yanked the jumper he was wearing over his head and pulled the new one on. It was dark blue with white band around the neck and cuffs. Like the one Al had.
Scorpius looked around the room. Fred and Jacob (he had finally learned to tell them apart -- Jacob had a birthmark behind his right ear) were loudly discussing reasons why Molly would need to put their first initials on their jumpers. After all, they knew who they were. Lily was cooing over the tiny roses and vines Molly had embroidered into the edges of the cuffs, neck, and hem of her jumper. Parker patiently helped his youngest brother on with his. Madeline and Isabella compared theirs. They were of a similar size and often shared their clothes. Ron was beaming with pleasure at finally getting something that was not maroon. People were talking over each other and across the room. Wrapping paper littered the floor, and the ornaments on the tree were obviously homemade, and according to Victoire, the ornament on the top was a garden gnome that had been Stunned, Transfigured to a gold color, and dressed in a fairy outfit salvaged from Ginny's old toys in the attic. It was a family tradition, she had informed him. He didn't think it was possible for it to get any more chaotic-looking than it had last Sunday.
He was wrong.
And it was the best Christmas he'd ever had.
Christmases were usually spent at his home in Wiltshire, and some of his mother's family came for dinner, but it was a quiet, staid affair, with lots of forks on the table. No snowball fights, no snowman scenes. No handmade jumpers for classmates who had nowhere else to go. Sometimes, they went to Nice to spend Christmas with his father's parents. They rarely came to England anymore. Christmas in Nice was rather boring, with just his parents and grandparents. Dinner there meant lots of forks, too. And quiet, hushed conversation. At least an hour after dinner ensconced with his father and grandfather who attempted to hammer into his head what was expected of him as a Malfoy, followed by a soothing hour with his mother and grandmother, who gave him cocoa and ginger biscuits, and actually talked with him about what he liked to do.
Scorpius realized while he didn't miss his father very much, he did miss his mother.
'Hey.' James nudged him.
'Huh?'
'I told Jacob about those snowmen we did last week. They thought it was brilliant, and think we should do one out in the paddock,' James said.
'Let's go!' Scorpius jumped to his feet, and found his coat and scarf in the welter of coats hung on hooks in the kitchen. He put his things on, and before he followed James out the door, he turned around and ran back to the sofa, where Molly sat next to Arthur. 'Mrs. Weasley?'
'Yes, dear?'
'Thank you. For the jumper. It's one of the nicest things I've ever gotten for Christmas,' he said, scuffing the rug with the toe of his shoe. He gave Molly a crooked grin.
Molly smiled at Scorpius, and patted him gently on the cheek. 'You're quite welcome, dear.'
Scorpius turned and ran out into the paddock, joining everybody younger than Madeline, busily engaged in building as many snowmen as they could.
That night, Scorpius stood in the bathroom of the Potter's house letting his mind wander as he brushed his teeth. He wondered if any of them knew how lucky they really were. As much as Al complained about James picking on him, James watched out for Al at school, helping him navigate around the castle, reminding him which staircase moved where and had patiently pulled him out of the trick riser.
And Lily.
He still hadn't figured out what it was about her hair, for Merlin's sake.
She didn't allow the boys to leave her out of anything. She tagged along after them and even though they grumbled about it, they let her play with them. Watch films with them. She had a wicked good aim in snowball fights.
Ginny had actually taken the time and effort to make him a Christmas gift. Harry had treated him better than his own father had and actually talked to him about his nightmares, instead of brushing him off.
The cousins were more his family than his mother's family ever had been. They protected him from the Slytherins who lobbed insults, and worse, at him at school. They had come up with the idea to have him spend the holiday with them.
Teddy. He couldn't say enough about Teddy. Teddy was just brilliant, as far as Scorpius was concerned.
Scorpius spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his toothbrush. He had the best of everything money could buy.
It didn't buy the sense of belonging he felt sitting between Lily and Al at the dinner table that afternoon.
It didn't buy his father's acceptance.
Scorpius made a face at himself in the mirror. He made his way down the hall to Al's room. Lily was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing purple plaid pajamas and a pair of ratty socks. 'Are you lost?' he asked amiably, leaning against the door frame.
'Nope,' she said cheerfully. 'May I borrow your book?' She pointed to his older collection of comic strips.
'Sure.' Scorpius crossed into the room, and picked up the older of his two books of comics. 'Careful. Some of the pages are coming out. I read it a lot at school,' he admitted.
'You can always get Mum or Dad to repair it. Just ask.'
'Are you sure?' If this had happened at home, Scorpius wasn't sure his parents would actually bother to repair it when they could buy another one.
'Yep. James accidentally tore my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in half last year.' Lily stopped at the doorway, and turned around. 'Of course, I did cry quite a bit until they repaired it.'
'Guess it won't hurt to ask, will it?'
'Won't know until you try,' she answered. 'G'night.' With that, she scurried down the hall to her room.
Al walked in his room, yawning hugely. 'Wow. Long day.' He pulled the quilt back and crawled into bed.
'Hey, Al?'
'Yeah?' Al was settling into his bed, the quilt pulled up to his ears.
'Thanks.'
'What for?'
'Inviting me to come home with you. It's been really great.' Scorpius fiddled with the edge of his quilt. 'Could I get a copy of that photograph we did this morning?'
'Sure. I'll get James to make another copy tomorrow.'
'Thanks.'
'No worries, mate.' Al yawned again, and was asleep in a few minutes.
Scorpius reached down for the Magic 8 Ball. 'It was a good day,' he softly informed it.
NINE -- Sounds of Silence
Ginny set the notebook and quill aside. 'Oliver, Puddlemere is looking better and better every season since you started coaching them. Three League championships in a row, the European Cup twice. All in the last four years. It looks great.'
Oliver Wood grinned. 'Thanks. I'm on the short list to coach Scotland for the World Cup,' he said just a bit self-consciously, yet beaming with pride all the same.
'That's fantastic!'
'It's not mine yet, Ginny.'
'True, but you'd be the youngest national team coach in years.'
Oliver watched Ginny scribble a few notes in the notebook. 'You miss the game don't you?'
'Sometimes,' Ginny admitted. 'The thrill of victory and all that rubbish,' she said with a slight laugh.
'So why did you stop playing? You were one of the few who could ever score a goal on me on a regular basis,' Oliver asked curiously. 'I remember you just resigned. No reasons listed or anything. Sent quite the shockwave through the other teams, I'll have you know.'
Ginny sipped her coffee and shrugged. 'It was time,' she said simply.
'It was your peak!' Oliver countered.
'Yes, but there were things I wanted to do that didn't go very well with Quidditch.' Ginny gave Oliver a look. 'Like raise a family. I liked playing, but I could always see myself doing something else, too. Even before I signed with Holyhead. Wasn't my lifeblood, like it is for you.'
Oliver shook his head sadly. 'You could have played for England. Harry, too. With the two of you, England would have won the World Cup a few times.'
'That would have been a sight.' Ginny laughed. 'Could you imagine the crowds? Especially the first few years after the war? It would have been madness.'
'Yeah, but what a rush it would have been...' Oliver said dreamily. He checked his watch and muttered a pungent expletive under his breath. 'Bugger me. Is that the right time? Better get going, Ginny. Got a team meeting in twenty minutes.'
'Thanks for the interview, Oliver.' Ginny shook Oliver's hand warmly.
'Any time. Just send an owl to me.' Oliver left the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny checked her own watch, and noted she had around an hour left before she would need to pick up Lily from school. She turned her attention to her notebook, and started to put the bones of the story for the Sunday Prophet together, making a note to get with the photographer and choose a photograph to go with the story. The paper was about to begin a series profiling each British and Irish Quidditch captain and coach. Oliver had specifically requester her for his interview.
Ginny felt a pair of eyes on her. She looked up to see a vaguely familiar woman holding a neatly folded coat over her arm, trying to catch her eye. 'Ginny Weasley -- I mean Potter?' she inquired politely.
'Yes.' Ginny shut her notebook, studying the woman with a guarded expression.
'Daphne Malfoy.'
'Oh! You're Scorpius' mother!' Ginny exclaimed, pleased to finally meet her. 'Please, sit.' Ginny indicated the chair Oliver had just vacated. 'I hope Mr. Malfoy is feeling better,' she said in a stilted tone, the politeness her mother had drilled into her head as a child bubbling to the surface. She still hadn't forgiven Lucius Malfoy for her first year at Hogwarts.
'He's...' Daphne hesitated, searching for the neutral way to say it. 'Not any worse than he was before Christmas. I just came back for a few days to attend to some personal matters.' Daphne shrugged, sitting down. 'I wanted to thank you for allowing Scorpius stay with you over the Christmas holiday.'
'It wasn't a problem.'
'He wrote to me. When he got back to school. It sounded like he had a lovely time.' Daphne bit her lip uncertainly. 'I hope it didn't cause any problems. With your family. I mean, with his being who he is.'
Ginny shook her head. 'It wasn't a problem,' she repeated.
'All right, then. I must go. My Portkey leaves for Calais in less than an hour.' Daphne stood and slipped on her coat. 'Thank you. For everything.'
'You're welcome.' Ginny watched Daphne Malfoy leave the Leaky Cauldron, hundreds of thoughts flying through her mind. Ginny had only seen Daphne in public just a few times. The last time had been the morning of September first on the train platform. Their brief conversation spoke volumes to Ginny, as attenuated as she was to reading people during interviews. Daphne wasn't anything like Ginny had expected. Ginny hadn't known Daphne at all during school, and the Malfoys didn't really socialize much outside their circle, when they socialized at all. A few small pieces of the puzzle that was Scorpius Malfoy began to fall into place.
Daphne wearily pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen of the villa in Nice. It was very early. Or rather late, depending on how one viewed the matter. It would be a couple of hours yet until the sun rose. The house was eerily silent and still, seeming to wait for something to happen. The undercurrents of tension were giving her a headache.
Lucius Malfoy was dead.
Daphne let the door swing shut behind her, while she massaged her temples. She was exhausted. Draco had shut himself up in his bedroom, when it was obvious Lucius was dying. Narcissa had kept vigil at Lucius' bedside until the end, when she silently rose from her chair, and disappeared into the depths of the house. Daphne couldn't stand to leave things alone, and had gone into the study to see to the details of transporting Lucius' body back to England for burial.
'Daphne?' Narcissa's soft voice drifted across the room. Daphne jumped in alarm, opening her eyes to find Narcissa sitting at the table, in an old, comfortable dressing gown, a large mug of tea in front of her.
'Oh! Narcissa.' Daphne slumped in the chair across from Narcissa's, Summoning a mug from the cupboard. 'May I get you something?' she asked tiredly.
'I think I should be the one to ask you that. Have you slept at all?' Narcissa asked gently.
Daphne rubbed her burning eyes. 'No.' She poured tea from the teapot in the center of the table into her mug. 'And miles to go before I can sleep.'
'You're going to have to get some sleep soon.'
'I will. I've just been writing letters to the French Ministry, and ours. Scorpius. Filling out the necessary forms for the French Ministry and ours. Setting aside the important papers, Lucius' will. Trying to find out how to transport the body back to Wiltshire.' She grimaced slightly. 'I know I'm probably overstepping my boundaries, but I couldn't just sit and do nothing.'
'I appreciate it, Daphne. I thank you for handling it. I do not think I would have been up for the task.'
'There is one letter left, though...' Daphne ran a hand through her already-disheveled hair, wincing. Her hair even hurt. 'It's to the Aurors,' she began. 'I wasn't snooping, truly, I wasn't, but I found Lucius' release forms from the Ministry...' she trailed off. 'One of the conditions is to --'
'Notify them of his death,' Narcissa finished flatly. Daphne nodded silently. 'Are they ready? The letters?'
'Yes. All except the one to the Aurors.'
'I'll write it.' Narcissa said. 'You go on to bed.'
'Are you sure?' Daphne asked.
Narcissa shook her head. 'Yes. I should do that one. I shouldn't have left you alone to cope with the others, either. Go to bed,' she urged Daphne. 'Get a few hours of sleep, and we'll go to the post office in the morning and owl everything to where it needs to go.' Daphne hesitated. 'I insist. Go,' Narcissa said firmly. Daphne nodded and put her mug in the sink, before slipping through the swinging door, and up the stairs.
Narcissa poured more tea into her mug, ignoring her stomach, churning from too much tea and not enough food, and left the kitchen. She went into the study and found the neatly written letters, already addressed, waiting on a corner of the desk. The other papers were on the other side of the desk. Sitting in the middle were Lucius' release forms.
Narcissa sat behind the desk, and spread the bundle of parchment across the blotter. The topmost form was an official letter from the Minister. Attached were Harry Potter's statements about her behavior in the Forest, Draco's own unwillingness to murder Dumbledore or turn him or his friends over to the Death Eaters. Narcissa found the part of the bundle of parchment with the conditions that kept both Draco and Lucius out of Azkaban. Notify the Ministry of any travel plans. Notify the Ministry of the country you were visiting of your whereabouts. Register your wand, if you still had one. Failure to do so would result in a sentence in Azkaban. Notify the Head of the Aurors in the event of said former Death Eater's demise.
She and Lucius had relocated to Nice as soon as Shacklebolt allowed them to leave England. The stares from the rest of the wizarding community were too much to bear this time.
Only a few Death Eaters still survived -- Yaxley, Rowle, Crabbe, Goyle, Amycus Carrow.
And Draco.
Narcissa closed her eyes. Yaxley and Rowle were in Azkaban on a life sentence. Crabbe, Goyle, and the Carrows had received long sentences. Alecto Carrow had died in Azkaban, and if rumor served, Amycus was still in Azkaban, nothing more than a blubbering idiot. Crabbe had been released after ten years, and lived in near-poverty in Portsmouth, virtually a Muggle. The Ministry had snapped his wand. Goyle had been released after ten years, as well, and lived with his son and his family. He was also wandless.
Draco lived in the mansion in Wiltshire with Daphne most of the time. They were able to live comfortably, if not extravagantly, after the heavy fines the Ministry levied on them. They also lived a sort of isolated existence, seeing only family and a few friends. Draco chafed under the restrictions on his life. Narcissa knew Scorpius indirectly suffered a great deal from it, too. Although not in ways Draco would recognize nor sympathize with.
And Lucius. Lucius had never fully recovered from the year he had spent in Azkaban following the battle in the Department of Mysteries or the next year during the war. Broken. If Azkaban had nearly broken him physically, the war and its aftermath certainly had their toll on Lucius mentally. He had simply faded away bit by bit. Narcissa had felt nothing more than relief when he drew his last breath hours ago.
Narcissa pulled a sheet of parchment toward her, and inked a quill. Mr. Potter, she wrote slowly. This letter is to notify you of the death of my husband, Lucius Malfoy. She wrote steadily, outlining their plans to return the body to England and the necessity for Draco to travel from Nice to England.
The letter completed, Narcissa magically sealed it to all but Harry Potter, and set it with the others.
Al watched Scorpius pack his things for the summer. He'd been somewhat subdued the last several days. 'You all right?' Scorpius shrugged. Al rolled his eyes. The past few months had been rough on his friend. After his grandfather's death two months ago, the papers had been full of articles of Lucius Malfoy and his actions before and during the last war. People gave Scorpius a lot of long looks for a few weeks after that. Harry had called it 'guilt by association'.
Scorpius had also been the butt of several verbal and physical assaults from the Slytherins. Including a few of his Greengrass cousins.
At first, the Slytherins had waited for him to leave the Hall after meals when they could corner him alone, without the mass of the cousins. The Slytherins caused his bag to rip magically, in which bottles of ink broke, spilling ink all over his books and homework. In the halls between classes, they deliberately ran into him or blocked the corridor, so he would be late. More than once, one of them had shoved Scorpius so hard, he'd tumbled into the stone wall and ended up with a bloody nose.
During Potions, which Gryffindor still had with Slytherin, Geoffery Greengrass, one of his cousins, flicked the slimiest ingredients he could find at the back of his head. It seemed that no matter how many detentions Professor Williams gave Geoffery, he still tried to toss the most disgusting thing at Scorpius' head at least once a week.
Al had seen some of the notes that found their way into Scorpius' bag during class and between classes. Even sometimes brought by owl at breakfast. Most of them were along the lines of saying he was a swotty poof for being in Gryffindor. Or his mother must have been a slag and tart, because there was no way he was a real Malfoy. Whispers of "tosser" and "wanker" in the corridors.
But Scorpius said nothing. He never said a word to Neville, who could have helped do something about it. Even when Victoire used Episkey to fix the scrapes and bruises from the shoves, and insisted Scorpius tell her who did it, he remained silent. The cousins took it upon themselves to start shadowing Scorpius. Parker and Victoire were prefects and took House points from those students who were involved in the abuse and bullying that they were able to witness. Rosie had gotten so fed up with Geoffery Greengrass; she cornered him after Potions one day and backed him into a wall, telling him off the entire time. Then she punctuated it with a good hard right hook to his nose. Professor Williams had seen it all, but much to Rosie's relief, pretended he hadn't.
And Scorpius still said nothing, other than a brief word of thanks to Rosie. Al didn't know whether to be impressed with his friend's ability to ignore the Slytherins or to hit him over the head for being so thick about it all and not asking for help.
Al sighed. 'I know you had a shite year,' he told the back of Scorpius' head. 'You can trust us, you know. Me, James, Rosie, the twins, Parker, Isabella, Maddie. Even Nicky, Alex, and Sophie when they come next year. We can help you. Jacob and Fred have more pranks up their sleeve than a pack of pixies. Add James, and you've got some serious mayhem. Get some payback at least.'
Scorpius nodded stiffly. He didn't trust himself to speak right now.
Al closed the lid of his trunk. 'Train's leaving right after breakfast,' he said, and went down the spiral staircase to the common room. The cousins waited in a group.
'Is he coming to breakfast?' Rosie asked. Al shook his head. The cousins moved as a group to the portrait hole.
'Maybe I should go up and try to persuade him,' mused Victoire, looking over her shoulder at the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories.
'Leave it, Victoire,' said Madeline. 'He probably wants to be left alone.'
'But --' Victoire bit her lip. 'Maybe we should save him something, then.'
At the Gryffindor table, they were unusually quiet. Victoire Transfigured the tie from her uniform into a basket, and packed it with scones. 'I'm not really hungry.' Al pushed his plate away. 'I'm going to get my things and wait for the carriages.'
Al went back into the Gryffindor tower, and up to his dormitory. Scorpius was still sitting morosely on the foot of his bed. 'Victoire saved some scones for you,' Al told him. Scorpius merely grunted in reply.
Al picked up his schoolbag. He fiddled with the fastener. He decided to give it one more go. 'Look mate, we like you. We don't believe any of that rubbish that lot in Slytherin says. We're your friends. We care about you and what happens to you.' Scorpius still sat motionless, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on his shoes. Al turned and headed to the door.
'Al?' Scorpius' voice was soft and gritty with disuse. 'They do it because I'm an easy target. Like Teddy was when he was here.'
'But people didn't try to beat Teddy up in the corridors, either,' Al pointed out.
'True,' Scorpius conceded. 'Unfortunately, I will have to see Geoffery on occasion this summer. Family and all that,' Scorpius reminded Al.
Al blinked. 'Can't you at least tell your mother about the notes he's sent you?'
'The ink on the notes vanished after a few hours. Who's going to believe me when I show up with scraps of blank parchment? I'm not going to run crying to Mummy, and Merlin knows I won't tell my father. My father will think I deserve it.' Scorpius slid off his bed, and picked up his own schoolbag. 'The other stuff, in the corridor. It's nothing.'
'How can you call a broken nose nothing?'
'They stopped doing that once you lot started grouping around me between classes. Especially Parker and Victoire. I heard Professor Trentham giving them the wrong side of her tongue when she demanded to know why they'd lost so many points. Now, it's just the notes and whispers, and that's nothing.' Scorpius headed out the door. 'I can handle it.'
'Maybe you can come stay with us for a bit over the summer.' Al grinned. 'We can watch the rest of Star Wars,' he said enticingly.
'There's more?'
'Yeah. Two more films.' Al scrunched his face. 'Well, there's five more, really, but Dad hates the last three that were filmed, so he pretends they don't exist.'
'Al?'
'Yeah?'
'Thanks. For reminding me not everybody hates me here.' Scorpius scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. 'Helps to hear it every once in a while.'
'It's not everybody, Scorpius. Just a few berks who need to feel superior to everyone else.' Al gave Scorpius a look. 'You know Lily likes you. She asks about you all the time.'
'She's nice. Not like most girls I know.'
'Ew. That almost sounds like you like her. She's not even ten yet!'
'No!' Scorpius was horrified. 'She's just... not like most girls I know. Not really prissy or anything. She's actually kind of fun. For a girl, I mean,' Scorpius insisted diffidently.
Al looked at Scorpius skeptically. Lily may not yet be ten, and Scorpius barely twelve himself, but he had heard stories about Ron and Hermione when they were in school. He had even heard his father say jokingly that his mother had been patient enough to wait for him until he came to his senses.
It was enough to make Al wonder.
TEN -- Cut With a Dull Knife
Scorpius concentrated on the soap bubbles drifting from the tip of his wand. One of the practical problems on their Charms final had been to produce soap bubbles and make them change color. It was the only one he hadn't been able to do properly. He had produced the bubbles and managed to make them change color, but had been unsuccessful in controlling the colors. He was determined to get it right before the train pulled into King's Cross. 'Still working on that one?' Rose asked.
'Yes,' he ground out through gritted teeth. Rose was nice, but she could be a bit of a show-off sometimes. Al and Scorpius both agreed if Rose hadn't been Al's family, they might very well be intimidated by her brains and simultaneously irritated by them as well. It was tempered by the fact Rose never actively made them feel like gormless idiots, and was always more than willing to help them with their homework.
'If you're trying to change the color,' Rose said matter-of-factly, 'you need to make a counter-clockwise twist with your wand, then a sort of soft jab at the center of the bubble, as you either think of the color you want it to be, or say it.' She pulled her own wand out, and produced a few bubbles. 'Like this,' she said, demonstrating the wand movement, silently changing the colors.
Scorpius' eyebrows knit in a frown as he carefully copied Rose's movements, satisfied to murmur an incantation of the color he wanted, and not worry about nonverbal spell-casting until he it came up later. The bubble in front of him turned a soft, glowing blue. Repeating the movement, it changed to the same warm yellow of candlelight. 'Thanks, Rosie.' He stowed the wand in his pocket, and grabbed a back issue of the Quibbler from the precariously teetering stack James and Al had between them. Scorpius whistled softly, mindlessly while he flipped through the magazine.
'Where have I heard that before?' Al looked around the compartment in bemusement.
'What?' James muttered vaguely, squinting at the "I Spy" picture in the issue of the Quibbler he was holding upside down, trying to find a broomstick in the clutter.
'That song. I've heard it before,' Al insisted. He cocked his head to the side; the low, sibilant whistle was the only sound, save the turning of book and magazine pages in the compartment. He began to hum along with the whistle, not noticing Scorpius' face had taken on a rather rosy hue.
James rolled his eyes. 'It's one of the ones from that bloody film Lily likes so much. The one where they're dancing.'
'Riiiiggggghhhht.' Al nodded. 'Merlin's fluffy bunny slippers, I hope she's over it by now.'
Scorpius stopped whistling. 'I liked it,' he said, defending Lily, feeling like someone had to.
'That's because you haven't been subjected to it a million times,' sighed James.
'Isn't this lovely?' drawled a bored voice. James' head jerked up to see Robert Nott standing in the open doorway of their compartment. 'Your grandfather would be spinning in his grave if he could see you cavorting with the blood-traitors and half-bloods,' he informed Scorpius.
'Don't you have anything else to do, Nott?' asked James coldly. 'I'd find something to do if I were you, before you find out what happens when you get hit with a Jelly-Legs jinx and Furnunculus charm at the same time.' James went back to his magazine, in seeming idleness.
Nott snorted. 'Like the four of you can do that.'
'No, but we can,' intoned Madeline's pleasant voice behind Nott. He turned around to find Madeline and Isabella standing in the corridor, twirling their wands between their fingers. 'Be good boy, and bugger off, why don't you?' added Madeline, shouldering past Nott into the compartment.
'I'd take her advice if I were you,' Isabella said, examining her nails, dispassionately. 'There's far more of us, than there are of you. And Parker may be a Hufflepuff, but he's a bloody good dueler, and you'll be on your arse with your pants around your ankles before you can say, "Boo".' Isabella calmly inspected her wand, using the sleeve of her shirt to polish off a nonexistent fingerprint.
Nott flushed a dark, angry, mottled red, and stalked down the corridor, leaving them alone. Scorpius sighed in relief. He hated conflict and fighting. It gave him a headache. 'Arse,' Rosie muttered darkly.
'Language, Rosie,' Isabella automatically corrected, before her face split into a wide grin, 'Before Grandmum washes your mouth out with soap again.'
Rose and James both shuddered in revulsion at the same time. Molly had caught them in the back garden last summer in the midst of a contest to see who could create the most creative curses, and dragged them back into the house. She had sat them in the scullery, and said a swift, sharp 'Tergeo', as she pointed her wand at each of them. Pink, frothy bubbles immediately erupted from their mouths and Molly watched with a beady eye fixed on James and Rose for several seconds before muttering, 'Finite Incantatum.'
'Thanks, Izzy. I'd just stopped having nightmares about that.' James tossed his magazine back into the pile on the seat, and reached for another one. 'So what are you doing this summer?' he asked his cousin idly.
Isabella snorted. 'Probably babysitting Aidan, when Mum and Dad are working. Not much to do on the dragon reservation. Sunday lunch will be the highlight of my week, until we have to go get my things for school in August. Might get to go to a Harpies' game or two, though.'
'Sounds about as exciting as mine will be,' grumbled James. 'Somerset's not exactly a happening place during July.'
'Aunt Ginny won't take you two to games anymore, eh?' asked Isabella sympathetically.
'Nah.' James had the decency to blush. 'Not after last summer when I kept sneaking Canary Creams to Al while a game was on while we were in the press box. Thought Mum was going to put my arse in a sling in public,' James reflected.
'No, but Dad did,' giggled Al. 'Hadn't seen him so angry since you tried to get Lily to eat U-No-Poo when she was two.'
'That's 'cause you don't remember the nappies,' James retorted.
'Oh, stop moaning, will you?' Rose glanced at her cousins impatiently.
'Says the girl who lives in London,' pointed out Madeline.
'So much fun, too, when Hugo and I end up at the shop with Dad and Uncle George or in Devon at the Burrow,' Rose snorted. 'Not like we can run about Diagon Alley, either. Just try putting a toe out of line, and in ten seconds, some busybody witch will have tattled on either one of us.'
'But you're not buried out in the country, like the rest of us are,' said Isabella.
'That's not true,' objected Rose. 'Jacob and Fred don't live in the country. They're in Islington, and Aunt Katie would sooner let them roam London than she'd let them take the Deflagration Deluxe to school. And Parker? Please. Fulham is only slightly less swotty than Bloomsbury.' Rose sniffed and went back to her book.
Scorpius had been following the conversation like a tennis match. It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke up. 'I've got you all beat,' he said mildly, turning a page of his magazine. 'I have to see Geoffrey over the summer.' He rubbed his nose, considering. 'Probably Nott, Adam Rosier, and Malcolm Urquhart, too. The adults come over for dinner and the children are sent out into the back garden to play.' Scorpius waited a beat, then said smugly, 'I win.'
'That sounds just lovely,' said Al sarcastically.
'It's a right barrel of monkeys,' Scorpius muttered.
'Seriously. Ask your mum if you can come over for a weekend or something before school starts,' Al reminded Scorpius.
'Believe me, I will.' Scorpius looked out the window. 'Station's coming up.'
Al and James hurriedly stuffed the back issues of the Quibbler into James' trunk, while Rose tidily put her book back into her schoolbag. They dragged their trunks off the train, and headed for the line of redheads, broken by Harry's black hair. Al stopped halfway to where Harry waited, and turned to Scorpius, who was trying to find his mother in the crowd. 'Hey, Scorpius.'
'Yeah?'
'Don't forget to write, you daft git.' Al smiled.
'You, either, you nutter.' Scorpius laughed. 'See you in September, for sure, then.' The crowd thinned a bit, as people began to go through the platform entrance, Disapparated, or went to the line of fireplaces to Floo home. He saw Daphne off to one side. 'There's my mother. Bye, then.'
'Bye.' Al watched Scorpius' blonde head bob and weave through the crowd toward Daphne, who greeted her son, then they both Disapparted. Al felt a hand land on the top of his head, and looked up to see his father. 'Hi, Dad,' he said happily.
'Ready to go?' Harry asked.
'Yep. Floo or car today?'
'You must have replaced your brain with James' dirty socks. You're mad if you think I'm going to handle you, James, your trunks, schoolbags, not to mention owls in the Floo,' Harry told him incredulously.
'Oh yeah. Right. Sorry.' Al grinned sheepishly up at Harry and followed him through the barrier, dragging his trunk on a trolley. Harry hefted the boys' trunks into the back of the car and deftly maneuvered the car out into London traffic.
James was asleep in what felt like seconds. He always fell asleep during a car ride, much to Al and Lily's dismay. He took up more than his fair share of the back seat, even with the modifications Harry had made to the car. Al smirked and scooted up so his chin rested on the back of Harry's seat. 'Hey, Dad?'
'Hmmm?'
'Will it be all right if Scorpius comes for a weekend before school starts?'
Harry glanced at his son's earnest expression in the rearview mirror. 'I don't know, Al. We'll have to ask Mum first.'
Harry turned his gaze back to the road, suppressing a shiver of apprehension. Not that he didn't like Scorpius. Scorpius was all right, Harry supposed, but he had far too many deeply ingrained memories of Draco and Lucius Malfoy from the day of his eleventh birthday to his eighteenth to be completely comfortable with Scorpius. Harry knew he had told Al to be nice to Scorpius; he just hadn't been prepared for the two of them to become best friends.
'Dad, please?' Al begged. The beseeching expression on his small face made Harry bite his lip and want to give Al everything he asked for on the spot. Ginny often accused him without malice of spoiling the children to make up for his lack of a childhood. But Harry would never make a decision like this without consulting Ginny first.
'We'll see, Albus,' Harry said sternly. 'If, and I do mean if, it's all right with Mum, then we can send an owl to his mother and go from there. All right?'
'Okay.' Al sat back with a soft, dejected sigh. When Harry used "Albus", Al knew from previous experience to just let it be.
Scorpius trudged inside the mansion behind Daphne. He dropped his schoolbag by the front door, and heard his mother call for Perri, the house-elf. Daphne put an arm around Scorpius' shoulders. 'Go into the back garden,' she whispered. 'There's a surprise for you.' Scorpius turned mystified grey eyes on Daphne, brow scrunched in question. 'Just go.' Daphne gave him a gentle push toward the sitting room, where a set of French doors led to the back garden.
Scorpius allowed himself to hope, for a moment, that his father was going to be there, ready to welcome him home from school. The sprig of hope was ground into mulch when he peered through the open French doors. Draco was nowhere to be found on the terrace. Heaving a disappointed sigh, Scorpius stepped outside, praying his mother hadn't invited some of his Greengrass cousins over for a "welcome home from school" evening. He stood just outside the French doors, scanning the back garden for what his surprise might be. A lone figure sat on a stone bench in the shadows of a trio of linden trees, pale hair glimmering in the shadows. 'Grandmother!' he whispered excitedly. Scorpius ran across the garden, not caring if it was seemly behavior or not. 'Grandmother!' he shouted, nearly tripping over his feet in his eagerness to see his grandmother.
Scorpius loved Narcissa. Of all his relations, she was his favorite. Last summer, before he'd gone to school, Narcissa had taken him for a walk along the beach.
Narcissa bent to pull her shoes off, sneaking a peek over her shoulder. Lucius would have a word or two to say to her later if he knew she was walking on the sand barefoot. It was unbecoming for a Malfoy to do something so... common. She wiggled her toes in the warm sand with a sigh, and looked down at her grandson, who had tied the laces of his shoes together, and slung them over one shoulder. 'So you're starting Hogwarts next month?' Narcissa began. Scorpius nodded. 'Do you have all your things yet?'
'Yes, Grandmother,' Scorpius replied dutifully. ' Schoolbooks, trunk, robes, potions kit, cauldron, wand.'
'No owl?' Narcissa was surprised. She thought Draco would have gotten Scorpius an owl, purely for the status of having one of his own.
'No.' Scorpius said glumly. 'Father said he wouldn't get me an owl until I earned it.'
'Earned it how?' Narcissa's fair brows knit in a slight frown.
'Which house I'm Sorted into.' Scorpius shrugged. All his cousins in his mother's family were Slytherins and Scorpius didn't particularly care for them. They could be cruel in their teasing of the younger members of the family, and Merlin help anyone who dared to not conform to the pureblood dogma.
'Slytherin, I presume?' Scorpius nodded silently, eyes fixed on the sand. 'And where do you want to be?'
'Slytherin, I guess,' Scorpius mumbled unconvincingly.
'Why?'
'It's where all Malfoys have been Sorted. Father and Grandfather said so.'
'Yes, love, but what do you want?'
'Why is that important?'
Narcissa gracefully sat down in the sand, and motioned for Scorpius to do the same. 'I'm going to tell you a story,' she said. 'About a girl who came from an entire family of Slytherins, too. She didn't really want to be in Slytherin. She wanted to be in Ravenclaw, because this girl was quite bright and loved to learn about magic. All kinds of magic, not just the Dark magic. But she was afraid of her family. She was afraid they would not want her anymore if she was put anywhere else other than Slytherin. She knew what happened to some of her other family members who dared to defy family tradition. So, when the girl's name was called and she went up to be Sorted, the Sorting Hat spent a long time trying to figure out where to place her -- Ravenclaw or Slytherin? It finally settled on Slytherin, because she was so frightened of what might happen to her at the hands of her own family.' Narcissa gently stroked the fine, blonde hair from Scorpius' face. 'That was me.'
Scorpius' startled gaze flew up to meet Narcissa's eyes. 'You?'
'Yes.' Narcissa pulled Scorpius closer and nuzzled the top of his head. 'You need to know, darling, that no matter where you are Sorted, it does not matter to me. Or your mother. The Hat does take into account what you want. It does take a lot of bravery to be different. Whatever God, or Merlin, or whatever you believe is out there, intended for you, it is not to be in Slytherin.
'I did it the hard way. Going into Slytherin set me on a path, that if I could do it over, I would change. There are more important things than blood-status. Don't forget that. More people have died or been driven into insanity because other people think that's all that matters. And believe me, Scorpius; it was not worth it, what we all lost.' Narcissa rose to her feet and began to walk back to the villa.
Scorpius embraced Narcissa tightly. He had missed seeing her over the Christmas holiday.
'Hello, Grandmother,' he said, smiling brightly.
'Hello, darling. Did you have a good year?'
'Yes, I did.' Realizing he could show her his year, rather than just tell her about it, Scorpius jumped up from the bench. 'Wait here, I'll be right back.' Scorpius dashed back inside the house and snatched his schoolbag from where he'd left it. He pelted back across the sloping lawn and scrambled into the bench next to Narcissa. 'I've got something to show you,' he told her breathlessly, pulling a leather-bound scrapbook from the bag.
He opened the cover to the first page. It was full of wizarding photographs. Scorpius sat in the middle of a mass of redheaded teenagers, between two black-haired boys, sporting a bloody nose. 'That was my first Quidditch game. Al and James,' he indicated the two black-haired boys, 'and their cousins play together almost every Saturday when the older ones on the Gryffindor team don't have a game. I got hit by a Bludger when I was trying to block a goal,' he informed Narcissa proudly. 'But Victoire,' said Scorpius indicating a slender girl with hair the color of a sunrise, 'fixed it.'
Scorpius turned the page again. 'This was Christmas morning,' he explained. 'That's Lily, Al, and James. Mrs. Potter made the scarf and the mittens. The hat, too.' Scorpius pointed to a different photograph. He and Al sat side-by-side in the kitchen at the Burrow, mugs of hot cocoa and biscuits in front of them. 'Mrs. Weasley, Al's grandmother, made the jumper. She made one for everyone at Christmas. And they were all different.'
Narcissa smiled at the photograph. 'You and Al look like a pair of bookends.' And they did in their similar jumpers, one fair, and one dark.
Scorpius turned the page. 'Guess what? I met another cousin! I didn't know we were cousins, though, until the holiday. There he is. Teddy Lupin.' Scorpius pointed to a photograph of Teddy and him on Christmas. Teddy's hair was his normal light brown. He indicated the photograph beneath it. 'That's Mrs. Tonks with Teddy. That's his grandmother.'
Narcissa blinked back a rush of tears. It had been years since she had seen Andromeda. She looked at Teddy, having not seen him since he was little more than a baby. He had much of the look of Andromeda about him. No, Narcissa told herself firmly. He looks like his mother. And his father... Andromeda and her daughter had the same heart-shaped face, and Teddy had it, too. 'It looks as if you had a lovely holiday.'
'It was nice.' Scorpius flipped through a few more pages, before he closed the book. Perri had come out to the garden to tell them dinner would be served in a few minutes. He put the scrapbook back inside the recesses of his schoolbag and headed for the French doors.
Narcissa's eyes darted around the table. She thoughtfully regarded the knife she held in her left hand, turning it slightly so it glinted in the candlelight. I could slice the tension around this table with this knife, she thought. Draco hadn't spared a glance for his son since they had sat down at the table. Daphne kept her eyes glued to her plate. No one spoke, beyond bare murmurs for salt. The only sound in the room was the faint clink of cutlery on china. Narcissa cleared her throat. 'So, Scorpius, how were your exams?'
'Fine. I think I only missed a few questions on Charms, and Defense. I'm sure I did well in Potions. Professor Williams is a good teacher.' Scorpius bit his lip, and turned his wide grey eyes back to his plate.
Narcissa looked at Draco from the corner of her eye. He had stopped eating, and was trying to pretend he hadn't heard Scorpius' answer. Taking a deep breath, Narcissa plunged ahead. 'Do you think you might want to play Quidditch for your House team next year?'
'No.'
'You seemed to enjoy playing with...' Narcissa trailed off, unwilling to mention anything regarding Harry Potter or his offspring in front of Draco.
'I like playing, but I'd rather play casually with...' Scorpius stopped and his eyes darted toward the head of the table. 'My friends,' he finished smoothly. He saw his father's hand tighten on his fork. 'May I be excused, please?' Scorpius looked hopefully at his mother.
Daphne glanced at Draco, and back at Scorpius. 'Yes. Go on.' Scorpius lay his fork down, and slid off his chair. He quickly left the dining room, and scurried up the stairs to his bedroom.
Scorpius closed the door with a sigh relief. The silence at dinner had given him a headache of monumental proportions.
Draco waited until Scorpius' light footsteps faded. 'Did you have to do that, Mother?' he spat.
'Do what?' Narcissa asked innocently.
'Make...' Draco visibly struggled. 'Him talk about his year at school.' He rose and threw his napkin on his plate. 'I'll be in the study,' Draco coldly informed his wife and mother, and stalked out of the room.
Narcissa's eyes narrowed as they followed Draco's progress. She had hoped that the events of the last battle had taught him something.
It appeared they had taught him nothing.
ELEVEN -- Shades of Contrast
Narcissa and Daphne stared at each other across the table. 'Do you think that's how he's going to treat Scorpius from now on?' Daphne asked apprehensively.
Narcissa turned her gaze to the doorway where Draco's fading staccato footfalls could still be heard against the floor. 'I wish I knew.'
Daphne leaned back in her chair, and reached for her wineglass. She took a long sip, and cradled it in her hands. 'You should have seen him when Scorpius wrote to us the first time after he'd been Sorted. Draco was livid.' Daphne's face darkened. 'Actually, "livid" doesn't even begin to do it justice. He was ready to go to Hogwarts and remove Scorpius. Wanted to send Scorpius to Durmstrang right then and there.' Daphne traced a fingertip around the rim of her glass. 'He blamed me. Told me I'd raised our son to be a ponce, and no decent pureblood would ever be in Gryffindor.' She gave Narcissa a weak smile. 'Of course, he'd been drinking at the time...' she added softly.
Narcissa reached for her own glass of wine. She was speechless. She knew many pureblood families still clung to the idea that their children should be in Slytherin, and mixing with Muggle-borns or half-bloods was discouraged. She also knew of a few families who would still disown their children if they flouted convention, and were Sorted into a different House, or married a pureblood or Muggle-born.
She just hadn't realized how deeply it was ingrained into her own son. Living so far away for so many years, only seeing Draco interact with Scorpius for brief moments during the time they visited Nice during holidays. Not for the first time, Narcissa wished she had done more to counteract what Lucius had done with Draco when their son was younger. But she'd had little choice in the matter then. It was dangerous to be a Malfoy and disregard Voldemort. Especially since Lucius was a Death Eater and answered to no one, save Voldemort himself.
There was little love lost between Narcissa and Lucius. Her parents and his parents had arranged the marriage. While they had been married for nearly forty years, Narcissa was forced to admit she had never really loved Lucius. It had evolved over the years into something like companionship, but in the two years before Voldemort's defeat, Lucius had been humiliated and crushed to the point where he had little interest in anything outside of Draco or Scorpius until the day he died.
'Narcissa?' Daphne's soft voice broke into Narcissa's reverie.
'Sorry. Woolgathering.' Narcissa set her wineglass down with a soft thump, and stood. 'If you don't mind, dear, I think I'm going to go up to bed.'
'Of course,' Daphne said quickly. 'You must be tired after your journey. I think I'm not long for this night, either.'
Narcissa patted Daphne on the shoulder, and left the dining room. She put one foot on the staircase, when she heard the sound of liquid purling into a glass. It came from the study. Squaring her shoulders, Narcissa marched into the room.
Draco sprawled in an armchair, facing the fireplace, a glass of Firewhisky dangling from his fingers. Narcissa closed the door, and quickly cast a Silencing charm on it. She had a feeling it was going to get ugly. And fast.
'Would you mind explaining why you're so insistent on treating your son like he's less than the mud you scrape off your shoe?' Narcissa demanded.
Draco looked up at her, and lifted his glass, taking a swallow of the whisky. 'It's none of your business, Mother.'
Narcissa reared back a little. 'Excuse me?'
'He's my son. I'll treat him any way I choose.'
'You mean you still feel like you have to make up for letting your father down by not being the perfect replica, and you've spent that child's entire life attempting to mold him into something he's obviously not.'
Draco glowered up at Narcissa. 'That has nothing to do with it.' He slammed the heavy-bottomed crystal glass on the low table next to the chair.
'So you mean to tell me the fact you haven't actually spoken to Scorpius in almost a year, because you're angry he didn't get Sorted into Slytherin?' Narcissa spat. 'Draco, you're thirty-eight, not eight. He's not a toy you can toss into a box when you tire of it.' Her eyes glittered in anger.
Draco pulled himself to his feet, and snatched the bottle from his desk. 'Why do you care so much?' he snarled. 'You never said anything against Father, or how I was raised when I was a child. I don't seem remember you getting this worked up when I was forced to join them.'
'You think I had a choice? Your father would have shoved me into the streets with nothing more than the clothes on my back and I had nowhere else to go!' Narcissa shouted. 'You think I wanted you to get the Mark? You think I wanted you to take your father's place? I did everything I could think of to keep you alive! Because you're my son!'
'I had less of a choice than you did.' Draco splashed more whisky into his glass. 'Besides, he should be around his own kind.'
'His own kind?' repeated Narcissa bemusedly.
'Are you deaf? Yes. His own kind.'
'Do not use that tone with me, Draco. I'm still your mother,' said Narcissa icily. 'And be so kind as to explain what "his own kind" means.'
'He should be around other pureblood families,' Draco shot at her.
'Because that worked out so well for you, did it?' Narcissa sank into a chair. 'How can you say that? After everything you went through, how in Merlin's name can you believe in any of that any more?'
Draco whirled to face Narcissa. 'Because I don't have anything else! Everything I was raised to believe is gone. Everything I was taught to believe is gone. Everything but that.' Draco raked a hand through his hair. 'I married the perfect pureblood witch, had a son. A son who could carry on with the family tradition,' he said bitterly. 'And look what happened. She coddled him, turned him into some... bloody poof.
'Then, my son. My only child is Sorted, not into Slytherin, as generations of Malfoys have been, but into Gryffindor. Sodding Gryffindor. Home to every tossing Muggle-born, half-blood, and worse, blood-traitor.'
'So you're going to just pretend he doesn't exist?' Narcissa asked incredulously, hoping it was merely the liquor speaking for Draco, and his words were not indicative of how he felt.
'Can't exactly do what your family did, now can I, Mother? If I disowned him, there wouldn't be an heir to the Malfoy name.' Draco slumped into his chair. 'I cannot be proud of him, of what he's done, because I've only asked one thing of him -- to not bring shame to the family. And he failed.'
'Then you're a fool,' Narcissa responded softly. 'It took nearly losing you for me to see how wrong it all was. I lost family over that nonsense. Family I never had a chance to reconcile with.'
'Well, that's just too damn bad for you, isn't it?' spat Draco sardonically. 'I could care less, if you want to know. And as for Scorpius.' Draco paused and turned to look at his mother. 'He's just turned out to be a bigger disappointment to me, than I ever was to Father.' Turning back around, clearly in dismissal, he said offhandedly, 'Make sure you close the door when you leave, Mother.'
Stunned, Narcissa gaped at the back of Draco's head for a moment, before she swiftly stood, and slipped out of the study. She felt decades older than her sixty-three years. She trudged up the stairs, and stopped by Scorpius' partially open bedroom door. Narcissa knocked lightly on the door. 'Scorpius?' she called softly. A muffled snuffling sound was her only answer.
Narcissa slowly went into the room, and found Scorpius huddled in a corner of the room, wrapped in a blanket. The transformation of her grandson from the happy, excited boy from that afternoon to the bundle of misery in front of her made her ache. He raised his face from his knees, eyes swimming with unshed tears. 'Did he mean it?' he asked stonily.
'Who?'
'Father. Did he mean it?' Scorpius repeated.
Narcissa sighed, and sat on the edge of Scorpius' bed. 'Come here.' He stumbled to sit next to Narcissa. 'How did you hear? I put a Silencing charm on the door.'
Scorpius reluctantly opened his hand to reveal a flesh-colored string coiled in his palm. 'Extendable Ear.'
'Those things are still around?'
'Uh-huh. You'd have to put up an Impenetrable charm to keep it from working.'
'Scorpius, you know you shouldn't eavesdrop like that.'
'I know.' Scorpius fidgeted a bit, coiling and uncoiling the Extendable Ear a few times. 'Grandmother, you didn't answer my question,' he prompted.
Narcissa massaged her temples. 'I don't know,' she admitted. She pulled Scorpius into a tight embrace. 'I don't know.'
A crash and a yelp echoed from upstairs. Ginny irritably scowled at the ceiling. It was the tenth crash of the night. 'James Sirius Potter, I am not repairing anything you break tonight!' she yelled. 'And neither is your father,' she added as an afterthought.
'I'm not doing what?' Harry asked, coming in the sitting room from the kitchen.
'Repairing anything the heathens have broken tonight,' she sighed. Another yelp, followed by Lily's angry screech floated down to the sitting room.
'Albus Severus, if I have to come up there, you will not see the business end of a broomstick for a week!' shouted Harry. He closed his eyes. 'How many more weeks until September first?' he asked Ginny wearily.
'Eight,' she answered promptly.
'You're not counting or anything, are you?'
'No more than you,' Ginny retorted.
Harry winced as a door slammed. 'Does that make us bad parents?'
'Only if it made Mum and Dad bad parents. Mum marked off the days until September first.'
'Al asked if Scorpius could come for a weekend,' Harry remarked casually.
'What did you say?'
'That I had to talk to you about it first.'
'Way to avoid, Potter.' Ginny applauded sardonically.
'We should talk about it, Gin.' Harry stretched. 'But not here.' He settled into the sofa, resting his head in Ginny's lap. 'When we go to bed. There are enough Silencing charms on that bedroom door to mute a herd of elephants.' He looked up at Ginny, his eyes limpid green pools. 'I'll give you a backrub after the heathens are in bed,' he offered.
Whatever response Ginny had to Harry was quickly lost in a howl. 'James, give that back!' Lily wailed.
'L.P. loves S.M.?' James crowed, before dissolving into whoops of laughter.
'Give it back, James!' Lily's voice was working its way up to genuine anger.
'Who's S.M.?' Al asked curiously.
'Nobody!' ground out Lily. 'Just give me my notebook back, you prat!'
Harry hauled himself to his feet, and pulled Ginny to hers. 'This is a job for both of us,' he commented, as they headed up the stairs. 'I'll take the boys, if you handle Lily.'
'I can live with that.'
Upstairs, James bounced on his bed, a composition book in his outstretched left hand, while his right hand fended off attacks from Lily. Al was trying to get a good look at the cover which had been decorated with the initials of 'L.P.' and 'S.M.', while also trying to duck the wild swings Lily was aiming at the two of them. 'Enough!' bellowed Harry, plucking Lily from the bed, and turning to deposit her in Ginny's arms. Ginny half-carried, half-dragged a protesting Lily from the room, as Harry glared at his sons.
James had the decency to look abashed, while Al went pale and wide-eyed. Harry skewered Al with a look, and stonily pointed to James' bedroom door. 'Out,' he ordered shortly. Al slid off James' bed, and scurried to his own room. Harry jabbed his wand at the door, slamming it closed, and silently held out his hand, his eyes shooting daggers at James. James bowed his head, and placed Lily's notebook in Harry's palm. 'Sit down,' Harry said quietly. James folded himself, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Harry was not nearly as upset as his behavior allowed. But he maintained the façade, knowing if he cracked, James would be impossible to deal with the rest of the summer. 'What have your mother and I told you about going through your sister's things?'
'Not to do it,' mumbled James.
'Exactly. So. Not only did you break a rule of this house, you also tormented your baby sister, too, did you not?'
'Yes, sir.' James was staring at his feet.
'James Sirius Potter, look at me when I'm talking to you,' said Harry softly, a faint edge to his voice.
James raised his eyes to Harry's face. He hated it when Harry was angry with him. It made him feel like flobberworm mucus. Harry rarely yelled or raised his voice beyond the initial bark to get their attention, which made the quiet interrogation feel all the worse.
'You are not to go flying for a week. If you so much as say "boo" to either Lily or Al in this time, it will be two weeks. You will clean the broom shed and the storage shed next week, starting on Monday. The storage shed will be organized and neat. The broom shed also needs a coat of whitewash.' Harry paused and dispassionately gazed at the top of his oldest son's head. 'Any questions?'
'No, sir.' James gaze sank back to his toes.
Harry sighed, and used a finger to tip up James' chin. 'James, I expect better from you. You're the oldest. You're going to be fourteen this year. You haven't been home a full day, and you're bouncing off the walls. Would you mind telling me why?'
James chewed his lower lip for a moment. 'It's kind of fun to see Lily get all wound up like that,' he said defensively.
Harry's eyebrows rose into his fringe. 'You're just like your Uncle Fred, you know,' he said casually. 'And your grandfather.'
'Granddad? My Granddad? The one who tinkers with Muggle rubbish? Arthur Weasley, the most mild-mannered man I know?'
'No, prat. My father. You're just like him.' Harry regarded James thoughtfully. 'He did grow out of it eventually. I suppose there's hope for you after all.' Harry strode to the door, using magic to open it silently. 'Go to bed. Good night, James.'
'Good night, Dad.' James heaved a sigh, and flopped back into the bed. He wondered if Fred and Jacob had gotten into trouble yet.
Harry slowly released the breath he'd drawn as he left James' room. Al's door was open, and he could see the boy sitting on his bed, feet dangling over the edge. Harry could hear the angry weeping coming from behind Lily's closed door, and Ginny's voice trying to soothe her. He went into Al's room, and closed the door. 'So,' Harry said quietly.
'I'm sorry, Dad.'
'It's not me you need to apologize to. It's Lily.' Harry pulled out the chair from Al's small desk and sat down in it. 'This isn't like you. You don't normally go along with James when he gets in a mood to tease Lily like that.'
Al said nothing, but shrugged.
'Albus Severus,' Harry warned. 'I'd like an answer.'
Al drew in a shaky breath and his wide green eyes met Harry's narrowed ones. 'I just wanted to see what James was going on about,' he mumbled.
'Why didn't you stop James from doing that to Lily?'
'But --'
'But nothing, Albus. You're Lily's older brother, and it's your job to protect her.'
'Even from James?'
'Until Lily's a bit bigger, especially from James.'
'Why?'
Harry raised an eyebrow in response. 'You, of all people in this house, know what it's like to be on the receiving end of James' pranks. That should be enough of a reason.' He stretched out his feet in front of him. 'One day, Lily will be big enough, or loud enough, to take care of him herself. But right now, she needs you. And you let her down.'
'Oh,' Al whispered, head bowed.
'No flying for a week,' Harry pronounced.
Al's head flew up. He had just received a Comet 1250 for his birthday, a week ago. It wasn't a racing broom, but a decent one for school Quidditch. Al had been planning to put it through its paces over the summer. 'Yes, sir,' he mumbled.
'And you will apologize to Lily tomorrow,' Harry added.
Al nodded silently, his eyes glued to the toes of his socks.
'And, you will also help James clean and organize the storage shed, and clean and whitewash the broom shed. Starting on Monday.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Your mum and I are going to discuss whether or not Scorpius can come visit over the summer. We will take this into account.'
Al felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He hadn't thought that this would affect his request to have Scorpius over for a visit. He nodded once.
'Go to bed, Albus.' Harry stood and returned the chair to its place under the desk. 'Good night.'
'Good night, Dad,' Al replied in a tiny voice.
Harry left the room, and closed the door behind him, meeting Ginny in the hallway. 'How's Lily?' he asked.
'She's fine, just angry at her gits of older brothers for the teasing, more than the notebook-snatching.'
'Is that what you were like when you were her age?' Harry asked interestedly. 'The only time I ever really saw you that young was when I was twelve, and you spent the whole summer lurking in dark corners.'
The corners of Ginny's mouth quirked upward. 'Just a little bit. Except it was worse. I had six older brothers giving me a hard time.' She went into their bedroom, and fell across the bed, rolling over to her back. Harry followed suit, and turned his head to look at Ginny, who was giggling.
'What's so funny?' he demanded.
'Lily.' Ginny rolled to her side, and propped her head up on one hand. 'You do realize who 'S.M.' is, don't you?'
Harry looked at Ginny perplexed. 'Erm... no.'
Ginny began to howl with laughter, collapsing onto her back again. 'Oh, Merlin help me, you're just as hopeless as you were when you were fourteen!' she crowed.
Harry frowned. 'It's not that Samuel Martin bloke in her class is it? You know, that kid with the Muggle dad who lives on the other side of the village?'
Ginny fizzed with laughter. 'And when have you ever heard Lily mention Samuel Martin?'
'Uh... never...' Harry sighed in defeat.
'She just put that on her notebook in January.' At Harry's questioning look, she added helpfully, 'After the boys went back to school.'
'So? It could be Samuel Martin!'
Ginny snorted, 'Not bloody likely.'
'Are you going to tell me or no?'
'You mean you still can't figure it out?' Ginny stared at him in disbelief. 'I think you've been friends with Ron too long, love.'
Harry groaned. 'Ginny! Are you going to tell me or not?'
'Fine,' Ginny smirked. She sat up and looked at Harry, trying not to laugh. 'It's Scorpius Malfoy,' she announced.
Harry sat up so fast; he nearly slid off the bed. 'No!' he breathed.
'Who else would it be? She talks about him all the time.' Ginny gave Harry a look. 'Well,' she considered. 'Not when you're in the room, at any rate. She still has nightmares of the time you saw Jack Finch kiss her on the playground at school.' Ginny couldn't help herself. She began to giggle again.
'It's not funny, Ginny.' Harry glowered at his wife, who seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.
'Oh, Harry, relax. It's just a harmless childhood crush. Hardly deep, passionate, undying love. Besides, she's only nine.'
'Almost ten.'
'Do you want her to grow up faster?'
'No. Nine, then.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'So... what are we going to tell Al? About whether or not Scorpius can come for a visit?'
Ginny sobered a bit. 'After tonight?'
Harry stretched out across the bed again. 'It's not like Al started it.' He traced the lines of Ginny's upturned hand, lying next to his face. 'I was thinking he could come in two weeks.'
'Are you sure?'
'Not really. I'm still not convinced he's not a Malfoy.'
'Harry, let it go, already.' Ginny sighed. 'If he was a carbon copy of his father, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation.' She turned her hand over, and captured Harry's fingers. 'Two weeks, huh? I think we can do that.'
Harry kissed the tips of Ginny's fingers. 'For safety's sake, let's make sure we put the butter dish on the other side of the table from Lily, in case she puts her elbow in it, too. I think I've still got lint on my tongue,' he teased his wife.
'Prat,' Ginny said softly, leaning down to kiss him.
'You know you love me.'
'Yes, I do.'
TWELVE -- Grounded
Al unglued his eyelids and pulled the quilt over his head in a futile attempt to try and go back to sleep. It was Monday morning. The day he was supposed to start helping James clean and organize the storage shed. He wondered how long it would take. The storage shed was dodgy at best, and outright disgusting at its worst. Al sighed and burrowed further into the pillow. Harry had called him Albus. Even worse, he'd used Albus Severus. Al hated it when Harry and Ginny used the middle name. Plus, when either of his parents used that deadly quiet voice, Al knew he was in some serious trouble. He smirked a little with a little satisfaction. At least he hadn't gotten the full name, like James. That really meant you were in trouble. Al and Lily almost knew James' full name better than their own.
'Al? It's time to get up. Breakfast is ready.' Ginny opened the door and came to sit on the edge of the bed, gently shaking him.
'I'm up,' he groaned, pulling the quilt away from his face. Al blinked at Ginny. 'Dad's really angry at James and me, isn't he?'
'Disappointed more than angry, sweetie.' Ginny pulled Al into a sitting position. 'He just wants you and James to understand there are consequences to your actions. Or lack of them.' She gave him a brief hug and patted his knees through the quilt. 'Come on, then. Get up and come downstairs. The sooner you and James tackle that shed, the sooner you'll be done.' Ginny slid off the bed, and headed out. 'Although,' she said considering, 'it's quite a mess. Might take longer than a day.'
'Lovely,' muttered Al, climbing out of bed, and reaching for a pair of old jeans that had been stained with grease when he helped Harry tinker with the motorbike's engine last summer. If he had to clean the shed, he wasn't going to wear any of his "good" jeans and ruin them. Besides, he knew Ginny and Harry would go spare if he did ruin them.
He jabbed a comb at his hair, grabbed his Magpies team cap, and clomped down the stairs, bending the bill of the cap in his hands, as he walked into the kitchen.
James was already slumped in his chair at the table, spooning cereal into his mouth. Harry was reading that morning's Prophet, scowling at the Quidditch scores. He looked up as Al dropped into his chair, and reached for the box of cereal in front of James. Harry folded the paper and laid it next to his bowl. He fixed his sons with an impassive gaze. 'All right then. After breakfast, the three of us are going out to the storage shed. I'll move the motorbike out for the day, and the two of you will organize the tools, clean up the rubbish, and sort any and all sundry things that are in there. I'll supervise, so if you're not sure something is rubbish, you can ask.' Harry leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of his juice. 'And no magic,' he added.
'No magic?' protested James weakly.
'No, and you're not to be using magic over the summer anyway,' Harry informed his son sternly.
James sighed and dropped his spoon into the empty bowl. 'Hurry up, will you?' he half-whined to Al. 'So we can get this over with?'
'We wouldn't be in this mess, if you hadn't been teasing Lily,' shot back Al.
'Don't start,' warned Ginny. 'Or I'll add painting the fence to the other chores this week.'
James' mouth snapped shut, and he settled for glaring at Al, following each spoonful of cereal as it traveled between the bowl and Al's mouth. Al studiously ignored James, but quickly finished his breakfast all the same. As he put the spoon into the bowl, Ginny Banished both his and James' bowls to the sink. Harry led the boys to the back garden and into the somewhat ramshackle shed.
Harry tenderly backed the motorbike out of the shed, and into the shade of an elm tree. He conjured a few brooms, buckets, and rags for the boys and a comfortable day lounger for himself. 'Go on, then,' he said, indicating the shed.
Al and James both huffed, but they knew if they dawdled, Harry would just add something else to the list. James picked up a broom, and peered into the depths of the shed. 'Erm, Dad? When was the last time someone cleaned in here?'
Harry frowned, thinking. He'd done a sort of cursory cleaning when he and Ginny moved into the house, shortly after James was born. Mostly, he just collected the spider webs and tidied the larger pieces of rubbish. 'Oh, I think I swept up the cobwebs last summer. Maybe picked up some of the rubbish, too. Not too sure,' he finished cheerfully.
'Ugh,' muttered James darkly. He'd rather die than admit it, but he was in this fix because he thoroughly enjoyed winding up Lily. She was a Weasley through and through, and the fireworks she produced when angered was a sight to behold.
It was almost as entertaining as Star Wars.
James poked his broom in a corner of the shed. A pile of Chocolate Frog boxes spilled into the dusty sunlight struggling to stream through the grimy windows. It was a considerable pile. 'Dad! There must be a hundred empty Chocolate Frog boxes here. Does Mum know you've been sneaking them out here?' While Harry believed in all things in moderation, Chocolate Frogs were an entirely different story.
'No, and if you keep it to yourself, I won't tell your mum about that lingerie catalogue I found under your mattress after the Easter holiday.'
James blinked. He could have sworn he had checked under the mattress before he returned to school. He nodded curtly to Harry, and went back to sweeping out the corner of the shed. 'Dad's such a pig,' he muttered to Al, who was sorting through a collection of old and somewhat rusty tools.
'No kidding,' Al muttered back, united briefly in their mutual disgust. 'I think he got these from Granddad.' Al rubbed a hand under his nose, leaving a smudge on his pale skin, but sneezed anyway. Al sighed and picked up a rag and tried to clean some of the rust off the tools.
Harry snickered to himself. It was partially true. The tools had come from Arthur's rather manky old collection. He did tend to be rather messy in the shed. Ginny understandably wouldn't step foot in it. Harry usually had a few boxes of Chocolate Frogs stashed behind an old tin of nuts and bolts, and he had a habit of munching on them as he worked on the motorbike, which was quite frequently. He found it soothing. He also had a bad habit of just tossing the empty Chocolate Frog boxes into a corner, where he couldn't, or chose not to, see them when he did his yearly tidying.
'Morning, Dad!' Lily launched herself into Harry's lap.
'Well, hello there, Flower Power.'
'Dad!' Lily's scandalized whisper followed a gasp. 'Don't call me that! I'm not a baby anymore, you know.'
Harry's lips twitched and he thought he sprained a muscle or two around his ribcage, but he didn't laugh. 'All right,' he placated Lily. He shifted Lily into a more comfortable position on his lap. 'So,' he began. 'Do you think Al should be able to have a friend visit for a weekend?'
'Not really,' she huffed. 'He didn't help me get my notebook back from James.'
'Did he apologize to you?' Harry gently tugged on one of Lily's plaits.
Lily sighed, and reluctantly admitted, 'Yes.'
'Think he meant it?'
Lily's bright brows knit and she muttered crossly, 'Maybe.'
Harry was almost certain he could hear his ribs creaking under the strain of trying not to laugh. Lily was every bit as stubborn as Ginny, if not more. Although Ginny would argue Lily was more stubborn than he was. 'Well, then, I'll let you help me supervise the boys, and when they're done, if you think Al deserves to have a friend over, then we'll send an owl. How does that sound?'
Lily seemed to weigh her options. 'Fine,' she stated.
James came running out of the shed, eyes tightly shut, screaming in horror, or fear. Or maybe both, given the size of the cobweb that graced his head. 'Get it off! Get it off!' he screamed, nearly whimpering. Harry reached out and swept the sticky web from James' hair and face.
'Okay, James, it's all off,' Harry soothed. Lily unsuccessfully smothered a giggle, earning her a glower from James. James visibly struggled to withhold a comment and turned on his heel, and stalked back into the shed.
James picked up the broom he had dropped. Al was standing on the workbench, carefully hanging the tools on a piece of pegboard. 'If you ever tell anyone about that, I'll burn your new broom,' he threatened.
Al polished a speck of rust from a spanner. 'Nobody'd believe me, anyway,' he muttered.
And so it went for the rest of the morning until Harry brought out a plate of sandwiches for the boys. There was a pile of Chocolate Frog boxes, dried leaves, and what seemed like several years' worth of old issues of Quidditch Quarterly, Witch Weekly, and the Daily Prophet. James and Al went inside to wash their grubby hands at the kitchen sink. 'When do you think Mum or Dad last threw a magazine away?' grumbled Al. 'I swear there're issues of Witch Weekly from before I was born.'
James snorted. 'I think one of those Quidditch Quarterly mags is from before Mum and Dad got married. Blech,' he said, wrinkling his nose as the soapsuds turned dark grey from the dirt on dust accumulated on his hands.
'Budge over, will you?' asked Al, trying to rinse the scummy lather from his own hands. James grudgingly moved over a few scant inches, so Al could finish washing his hands.
'We're never going to get this finished,' moaned James morosely. 'I can't reach the spider webs up in the top of the corners.'
'There's some Spellotape in the shed,' offered Al. 'Maybe you can put two brooms together and sweep them down.'
'Yeah, maybe.'
'Fine, don't try it.' Al dried his hands on a tea towel and trudged out into the back garden. He was used to James not paying him any mind.
After lunch, much to Al's surprise, James did tape two brooms together to try his idea. It even worked.
Al lugged a heavy carton out into the garden, dragging it across the grass, as he sidled backwards. It was too heavy for him to carry. 'Dad? I can't tell... Is this rubbish or do we keep it?' Al pulled the lid off the top to reveal a set of horridly ugly china. 'Where'd you get this, anyway?'
Harry leaned over to inspect the contents. 'Your mum's Great-Auntie Muriel gave us those at our wedding. We never took any of it out of the box, past the first plate to see the design. I forgot it was in there.' Harry shuddered in distaste. The color of the dishes reminded him of the color of Polyjuice Potion before you added the bit of the person to change into. 'I never could figure out where she found china the color of mud.'
'You know, Dad,' Al began carefully. 'We could put a bunch of those Chocolate Frog boxes and leaves and stuff around it, and we you Vanish the rubbish...' Al's face lit up in a mischievous grin, as he trailed off. 'Make it look like an accident.'
'I don't know why I didn't think of that before,' Harry said, winking at Al. 'James!' he called. 'Bring out some of that rubbish, eh?'
James came out staggering under the weight of several back issues of Witch Weekly. 'How's this?' he panted, dropping the stacks of magazines.
'Perfect,' Harry said, drawing out his wand. 'Bung 'em over by that carton.' James threw several magazines at the carton. 'All of them,' said Harry. 'We want it to look like an accident,' he added conspiratorially. James' eyes widened, but he complied, throwing magazine after magazine to the carton. When the box was more or less hidden by the magazines, Harry pointed his wand at the pile and whispered, 'Evanesco.' He slid his wand back into his pocket. 'Don't tell your mum, all right?'
That night, Harry pushed the motorbike back into the shed. The cobwebs were gone, the rubbish swept out, all the tools hung on the pegboard. Even the various pieces of hardware, like the nuts and bolts, had been meticulously sorted into different jars. One of them had actually washed the windows, and he could see the outlines of the trees behind the shed. He heard a rustle behind him, and turned to see Lily standing in the doorway, wearing her nightdress, wet hair in a single loose plait. 'So, Lily? What do you think? They do all right today?'
Lily's bare feet didn't make a sound, as she strolled around the shed, examining the boys' handiwork. 'It's all right, I suppose,' she sniffed. 'They still have the broom shed tomorrow?'
'Yes, they do.'
'We'll see after tomorrow,' she said, with a decisive nod of her head.
Harry followed Lily out of the shed. He pitied the poor sod who would marry her one day. She was a force of nature, especially when she put her mind to do something.
When they walked into the kitchen, Harry gently swatted Lily on the rear. 'Go on up to bed. Mum and I will be up to tuck you in, in just a minute.' He cocked an ear toward the upper story of the house. 'It's awfully quiet up there,' he commented to Ginny.
Ginny didn't bother to stifle the laugh. 'They're both sound asleep. I thought they would both pass out into their dinners, had Lily stopped chattering long enough for it to get quiet.'
'Wanna go for a fly?' Harry asked Ginny, a lascivious grin on his face.
'Why, Mr. Potter!' exclaimed Ginny. 'Let's get Lily settled, first.' As they climbed up the stairs, she wondered aloud, 'How long has it been since you and I went for a fly together?'
'Far too long,' Harry murmured against her neck. 'One broom?' he asked hopefully.
'You'll just have to wait and find out when we get back outside.' Ginny grinned at Harry's mock-crestfallen expression. 'It'll give you something to look forward to.'
The next morning, the boys were both outside, brooms in hand once more, sweeping out the broom shed, casting longing looks at their Comet 1250s hanging on hooks, the nameplates glinting in the morning sunlight. They worked silently, still tired from the day before. If they thought the storage shed had some enormous cobwebs, the inside of the broom shed seemed to be one giant cobweb. Al heard James' swift intake of breath as they got a good look at the amount of cobwebs. They didn't really look inside, normally, beyond the half second it took to grab their broom.
Lily trailed out after them, a box of crayons, a pad of drawing paper, and a book in her hands. She settled on the grass under the elm tree, and began to draw, humming under her breath, as she watched the boys pull the cobwebs off the brooms they used to sweep out the broom shed.
When Harry came out into the back garden an hour later, Lily was leaning against the elm tree, watching the boys whitewash the walls. She held an open book on her lap, but wasn't reading it, gazing at the boys instead. 'How are they doing?' he asked her, as he folded his lanky frame in the grass next to her.
Lily tilted her head to the side, critically examining the coat of whitewash on the walls. 'I think it needs another coat,' she pronounced.
'Hey, boys? One more coat!' called Harry.
James' liberally spotted face peered around the corner. 'One more coat?' he sighed. At Harry's nod, he heaved a put-upon sigh and was met with Al's paintbrush in his face.
'It was an accident!' Al's distressed voice floated from the behind the broom shed.
'I know,' James said testily, wiping his face on his t-shirt. He looked like a raccoon in reverse, eyes dark wide pools in the layer of whitewash. He dropped his paintbrush into the grass. 'Let's just get this over with, all right?' Al nodded and went back to his work.
Harry had heard the exchange, making a mental note to mention James' response to the face full of whitewash. Last summer, he would have pounded Al into the grass, with nary a second thought.
Mid-afternoon came, and James and Al stood at the spigot on the side of the house, wearily rinsing out the brushes. 'I think I'm going to have a nap before dinner,' commented James. Al only grunted in response. 'You need one, too, Mr. Cranky-Pants.'
Al rounded on James. 'If you'd left Lily alone, we could be on our brooms right now, but no! You just had to get her all worked up! And why? Because you think it's fun to get either of us wound up!' Al hissed. 'It's not fun! And we had to spend the first two days of our summer hols up to our elbows in rubbish, spider webs, and whitewash.' Al flung the water from the brush in a wide arc over the grass. 'Besides,' he continued. 'It's not nice to tease her about Scorpius. It wouldn't be nice to tease her even if S.M. had turned out to be Sammy Martin.'
James stared at Al in shock. Al had never spoken to him that way. 'But --'
'Don't talk to me right now, James, okay? Just go do whatever it is you want to do before dinner and bloody leave me alone.' Al stalked to the storage shed to put the paintbrush away.
James watched Al stomp toward the pond and for once in his life, wisely left Al be. He came around the corner of the house to find Harry and Lily examining the paint job on the broom shed. Lily and Harry exchanged nods, and Harry sent James into the house to shower and try and scrub the layer of whitewash off.
Harry put the brooms back inside the broom shed and closed the door. He looked down at Lily, hands on his hips. 'So, Lils? What do you think? Should we send an owl to Scorpius' mum tonight?'
Lily wrinkled her nose in thought. 'I suppose,' she sighed dramatically.
Harry didn't miss the slight blush that washed over her face.
'Al?' James stood uncertainly in the doorway of Al's room later that night.
Al just looked up from his book, and raised an eyebrow. He was still smarting from the past two days.
James shifted uneasily. He wasn't used to seeing the look of calm anger on Al's face. 'I owe you an apology,' he muttered, tracing the grain of the wood of Al's door.
'You owe Lily an apology,' said Al flatly.
'But I got you into trouble, too,' protested James.
Al merely shrugged. 'I had a choice in the matter. I could have tried to stop you or take the notebook away, and I didn't. End of discussion,' he said, going back to his book.
James' shoulders slumped a little.
This had to be one of the few times he actually felt guilty for harassing his sister, and pulling his brother into it.
He went into his room, and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling.
A tawny owl winged its way across the dark countryside, a letter tied to its leg. It came to a stop early the next morning at a mansion in Wiltshire.
THIRTEEN -- Wonder Witch
George and Katie's owl tapped the kitchen window at breakfast. Al slid off his chair, and went to open the window and collect the package. The large magenta 'W' on the box signified its origin from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Harry and Ginny usually weren't too concerned when Fred and Jacob sent Al and James a package. George or Katie generally checked the box before it was sent out, and removed anything that could potentially cause a great deal of trouble. Most of the time it contained fairly harmless merchandise. Headless Hats and the like.
Al set the package aside. He wouldn't open it until James made his bleary way down to breakfast. It was the one unspoken agreement between the two of them -- no opening packages from Fred and Jacob when they weren't together. He went back to his breakfast, eyeing the door impatiently, waiting for James to come through so he could rip the box apart.
'So what do you have planned for the day, Al?' Ginny asked.
'Not much. Dad said I had to have my summer Herbology essay finished before Scorpius gets here this afternoon.' Al stirred the milk in his bowl, watching a few errant cornflakes swirl in the eddy he made. 'Hey, Dad?'
'Yeah?' Harry replied absently, frowning at the paper. Hermione's effort to repeal some of the more virulent anti-werewolf legislation was proving difficult with memories of Fenrir Greyback still fresh in some people's minds.
'Can Scorpius and I do a Star Wars marathon tonight?' Al asked hopefully.
'As long as you don't intend to watch the so-called prequels,' Harry said, putting the paper down. 'Those are --'
'Absolute rubbish,' James' voice chimed in as he slunk into the kitchen, still in his pajamas.
'Nice of you to join us, James,' commented Ginny, with a pointed look at the clock. It was well after nine.
'Mum, it's summer hols,' whined James. 'I shouldn't have to wake up early every day.'
'Eight is not early,' Lily loftily informed her oldest brother.
'Says you,' mumbled James, reaching for the cereal box.
'We got a box from Fred and Jacob,' said Al to James, who immediately perked up.
'We did? Brilliant!' James began to get up from the table to fetch the box, only to be stopped by Ginny's ostentatious throat-clearing.
'After both of you are done with at least one essay,' she said. 'You have one for Potions you still need to finish?'
'Yes...' James sighed.
Ginny pointed her wand at the ceiling, and said sharply, 'Accio.' James and Al's books zoomed into Harry's hands.
Harry put the books on the kitchen table. 'After breakfast, the two of you get started on those essays. The sooner you get them done --'
'The sooner we can open the box,' sighed Al. He and James hunched their shoulders in resignation. 'Bugger,' muttered Al.
'Watch your language, Albus,' reminded Ginny, with a pointed glance at the half-full jar on the counter. Each time one of the children said something inappropriate, they had to add a Sickle to it. She left the kitchen with Harry, and went back upstairs to their bedroom. They stood on each side of the bed, making it together, working in tandem out of long practice. 'Were we ever that bad about our homework?' she asked.
'I was,' Harry said baldly, tightly pulling the sheet up to the head of the bed, smoothing the wrinkles. 'But mostly with Potions. The others I didn't mind so much. After my second year, I had to do my summer homework under the covers, though. They locked my school things in a cupboard, and I had to pick the lock,' he said only slightly offhandedly. He and Ginny tugged the quilt into place, making minor adjustments to it. 'What time are you leaving?'
'Game's at five, so I'll head over to Holyhead at three,' Ginny said, fluffing pillows. 'Who knows when it'll be over,' she said shrugging. 'They've got a good Seeker this year, though. If it's over before nine, I'll go to the Prophet office to write the article and leave it on MacKenzie's desk.' She put the pillows in place, and moved about the room, collecting clothing for the laundry. 'What time is Scorpius coming over?'
'Four, I think.' Harry hoisted a laundry basket with the children's school uniforms into his arms. 'The note said Daphne will probably Apparate over with him.' He went into James' room, laying his uniforms on the desk. 'I'll take him back home on Sunday after lunch.'
'Should you do that?' inquired Ginny, with a slightly worried frown. 'I mean, you haven't had a nightmare since Christmas,' she said softly.
'I'll be fine,' Harry said shortly. He took Al's uniforms into his room, stacking them on the foot of Al's bed. 'It's not like I'm going inside or anything. Just taking him to the gate.' He took the basket holding Lily's Muggle school uniforms into her room. 'I'll be fine, Gin,' he repeated. Harry tucked the basket under his arm, and reached out to touch Ginny's cheek with his fingertips. 'And if not, I have you,' he murmured. His hand slid to cup the back of Ginny's head, pulling her closer. He bent his head and kissed her gently, lingeringly.
'Ew!' Lily's scornful voice broke into the delicate shell around her parents. 'Do that in your own room,' she scoffed. 'Now I have to fumigate.' She shooed Harry and Ginny from the room, before gathering her crayons and paper, and skipping down the stairs and out the back door.
James sat hunched over his Potions book, writing an essay explaining how magically-grown herbs will react in a potion, as opposed to Muggle-grown herbs. He stopped and looked longingly at the box, sitting tantalizingly nearby. 'Don't do it,' cautioned Al. 'You want a repeat of two weeks ago?'
'Not particularly.' James chewed his lip absently, measuring his essay.
'How long did it have to be?' asked Al, craning his head to see James' essay.
'Two feet.'
Al whistled softly. 'That's not too bad.'
'I suppose.'
'How much do you have left?'
'Just more six inches,' James said grimly. He learned the hard way his first year to write normally. The first essay he turned in to Professor Williams was the requisite two feet, but James had written his letters so large; he had about three words per line. 'It's not as bad as the essay I have to write for Neville. He wants three feet.'
'On what?' Al was scratching his nose with the end of his quill. 'Mine only has to be eighteen inches.'
'Oh, this and that. The proper care of the magical plants we've studied. More of a review kind of thing. And believe me, with as much as Neville does in Herbology second year, it's going to be a piece of cake.'
'Not looking forward to that next summer.'
The talk died down, and the kitchen was filled with the scratching sounds of quills on parchment once again.
Harry and Ginny went into the kitchen at odd intervals to check on the boys' essay progress, making comments and suggestions, until at long last, they deemed the boys' work complete. They darted to retrieve the box, and took it outside to the base of the elm tree.
James ripped the box open, and pulled out a note written in Fred's round scrawl.
James and Al -- The Little Wonder Witch stuff is for Lily. Sophie really likes 'em. Although we don't put much stock in the word of an eleven-year old girl. You can have some real fun with the Wonder Witch Instant Makeup kit. You should have seen Jacob the other day. Here Jacob's angular, untidy scribble interrupted. (Shut up, Fred!) He was really pretty. The rest of it's some of the usual things. Mum and Dad search the box before they send it out with Jeeves. Dad says we're too much like him to allow the box out without his okay.
Hope you have fun.
Fred and Jacob
Al looked up as the back door slammed shut. Ginny and Lily had come outside, a Quaffle resting lightly in Ginny's hands. They began to toss it back and forth, while Ginny casually offered pointers on throwing the ball. 'Hey, Lily!' he called out. 'Fred and Jacob sent something to you!'
Lily caught the Quaffle, and tossed it to Ginny on the run. She jogged to the elm tree, and caught the small package James threw toward her. 'Little Wonder Witch?' she asked, turning the package over in her hands. 'Oh, it's like lip gloss.' She pulled a slim tube from the package. 'It's flavored! Butterbeer, Pumpkin Pasty, Licorice Wand... Ooooh.... There's even an Every-Flavor Bean. Thanks!' Lily ran back to Ginny, the lip gloss clutched in her hand.
'Butterbeer flavored lip gloss, eh? Nice.' Ginny asked.
'Want to borrow it?' Lily asked brightly, before picking up the Quaffle again.
'Erm, no... You can have it,' Ginny muttered. When she was eleven butterbeer flavored lip gloss might have been appealing, but not as at thirty-seven.
James held the Wonder Witch package. 'What in Merlin's name do Fred and Jacob think we're going to do with this?'
Al shrugged. 'Not sure.' He plucked the package from James' hand. There were two brushes -- one small and one larger -- and what looked like a lipstick tube. Al read the directions on the box. 'For eye shadow turn the handle once for blue, twice for pink, three times for green, and four times for brown.' Al rotated the handle three times, and ran the brush across the back of his hand. A sparkly streak of green appeared on his skin. 'Wicked,' he breathed.
James took the larger brush and nudged Al. 'What does it say for this?'
Al glanced back down at the box. 'Turn the handle two clicks for pink, three for peach.'
James carefully turned the handle two clicks, and swiped the brush across his hand. A trail of rosy pink lay in hazy swirls on the back of his hand. 'Check out the lipstick,' he said excitedly.
Al pulled the last item out of the box. 'Turn twice for red, and three times for pink.' He turned the tube twice, and reached out with it to leave a streak of red on James' cheek, making James jerk back, rubbing the lipstick from his face. 'This is cool. But I still don't know what we can do with it, besides give it to Lily.'
James scrambled to his feet. 'I'm going to get a butterbeer. You want one?' Al nodded absently, going through the rest of the box from the joke shop. James came bursting through the back door. 'Al!' he hissed. 'I know what to do with the Wonder Witch box!'
Harry picked up the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly with a happy sigh, and stretched out on the sofa to enjoy it. The boys were in the back garden with a package from Fred and Jacob. Lily was also in the back garden with Ginny, learning how to handle a Quaffle. The sun was shining, and the usual idiots who insisted on Muggle-baiting at odd times were lying low for now.
It was a good day.
Harry opened the magazine to the story Ginny had written for them, profiling some of the more successful women Quidditch players who managed to balance their families and the game. She had never told him why at the height of her career, she decided to quit playing and start reporting about it. When he had asked Ginny, she had just shrugged and said it was time. And that was the end of the discussion. Harry had always felt there was more to it than that, but the one time he pressed Ginny for more information, she had accused him of trying to micromanage her life, and they'd had one of their rare, but nasty fights where he accused her of not thinking rationally, and she shot back, telling him he had no right to tell her how to think. It culminated in Harry stomping out of the flat and Apparating to Ron and Hermione's flat. He'd slept in their spare room that night.
He'd never asked Ginny about it again.
After reading less than two paragraphs, Harry's eyes began to droop and he fell asleep, the magazine spread open on his stomach. When he was still doing field work with the Aurors, he would never have slept as soundly as he did now, but the part of his brain that would have allowed to him sleep with a virtual eye open, realized he was at home, and relatively safe.
James and Al hung over the back of the sofa, watching their father sleep. 'D'you think he's out?' whispered Al.
'Yeah,' said James confidently. He'd seen Harry fall asleep on Saturday afternoons too many times to not know about his father's sleeping habits. He reached down and slowly lifted Harry's glasses off his face, freezing when Harry's nose twitched. Harry continued to sleep, breathing deeply and evenly. James quietly put the glasses on the table at the end of the sofa. 'Hand me the eye shadow,' he said, holding his hand out. Al placed in James' outstretched palm as if James were a Muggle surgeon they'd seen on those television programs.
James carefully slid the brush over Harry's eyelids, leaving the shimmery, green eye shadow in its wake. He handed the brush back to Al, and wordlessly Al gave him the blush. James lightly swept the brush over Harry's cheeks and Harry now sported two round circles of rosy pink blush. Giggling to himself, Al leaned over the back of the sofa and quickly rubbed the lipstick lightly over Harry's lips.
The two boys stepped back from the sofa, examining their handiwork. 'Bloody brilliant,' breathed James.
'I can't believe he didn't wake up,' said Al.
They turned and tiptoed out of the sitting room, and into the back garden.
Ginny looked sympathetically at Harry. The other night had been brutal. He had been called to London's East End to investigate a bout of Muggle-baiting. It was the second in as many weeks. He had been up all night with the Aurors investigating the incident and members of the Obliviator squad. When he crawled into bed at dawn the next day, he grumbled about not being able to bounce back like he had when he was eighteen and just joined the Aurors.
She heard the back door open and Teddy's bright turquoise head peered around the doorway. 'Hiya, Ginny!'
'Hi, Teddy.' Ginny crossed the room, and folded Teddy into a warm embrace. He lifted Ginny off her feet and set her back down. 'I hate to tell you this, but it doesn't seem like you should be tall enough to pick me up like that. It feels like yesterday you were only a year old and sloshing water all over the bathroom of the flat.'
'Ginny!' Teddy whispered in consternation. 'Does Vic know that?'
'Of course she does,' Ginny replied matter-of-factly. 'She's seen all the photographs from when you were a baby. Including the one when you were running about naked after your bath,' she mused, patting his cheek affectionately.
'Oh, Ginny,' moaned Teddy.
'She thought it was adorable,' consoled Ginny. 'Could you do something for me, though?'
'Sure.'
'I need to go to Holyhead, and I don't want to leave the children while Harry's asleep.
'Not a problem. I'll take care of everything.'
'Thanks, Teddy.' Ginny picked up her bag. 'Scorpius' mother is going to drop him off about four.'
'Erm, Ginny?' said Teddy, softly, but urgently.
'Hmmm?'
'Aren't you going to wake Harry up?' Teddy gestured to Harry's heavily made-up face.
Ginny cocked her head to the side, considering. 'Nah. He knows better than to sleep down here when the boys get a package from the shop. Serves him right.' And with that, went out the back door to tell James, Al, and Lily she was leaving, then was gone with a faint pop.
Teddy sauntered into the back garden, lazily waving his wand to Transfigure the empty Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes box into a football. 'Who's up for two-a-side footie?' he called into the garden.
Harry woke up, snorting. There was a steady knocking on the front door, which was odd. Most family members came to the back door. He peered nearsightedly for his glasses, and found them on the end table. Ginny must have taken them off before she left, he thought, checking his watch, startled to see it was four in the afternoon. He shoved the glasses on his nose and hurried to the front door. Scorpius and his grandmother stood on the front steps, both wearing odd expressions. Passing it off as a Malfoy thing, Harry smiled at Scorpius. 'Hi there.'
'Hello, Mr. Potter,' he said politely, before a roar from the back interrupted. James, Al, and Teddy came pelting around the corner of the house.
'Hi, Scorpius!' shouted Al.
Scorpius dropped his bag and ran to join the melee that was in progress.
Harry stuck his hands in his pockets. 'Mrs. Malfoy,' he said by way of a greeting.
'Mr. Potter,' she replied, inclining her head, gracefully, her lips noticeably twitching.
Harry bit back a sigh of impatience. 'I don't mean to be rude, but what's wrong? Do I have something on my face?' he asked with a total lack of irony.
Narcissa let a giggle escape, before she dug a compact from her handbag and held it open in front of Harry's face. 'I don't think green is quite the color for you,' she commented.
His eyes widened as he took in the boys' artwork. 'I'm going to kill them,' he said conversationally. 'I can't believe I slept through that. Would you like to come in?' he asked Narcissa, remembering his manners.
'I'll just go tell Scorpius goodbye and head back,' she said, trying not to peer into the house.
'I'd really like to talk to you,' Harry said quietly. 'Please,' he stood aside, motioning for Narcissa to come inside. She hesitated before she bent to pick up Scorpius' bag. 'I'll get it,' Harry said. Narcissa straightened and strode into the house. Harry grabbed the bag, and dropped it by the door, before following Narcissa into the house. 'Have a seat,' he said. 'I'll just go wash this mess off my face. Back in a few.'
Harry dashed to the bathroom, muttering unkind things about his offspring, as he haphazardly scrubbed the makeup from his face. He clattered back down the stairs, darting into the office, and went back into the sitting room to find Narcissa perched on the edge of a chair. Harry settled on the sofa, still swiping at drops of water on his chin. 'I never really got to thank you,' he said. 'For saving my life.'
'Oh... that.' Narcissa seemed embarrassed. 'It was nothing.'
'It wasn't nothing to me,' Harry stated.
'It was something any mother would do,' she retorted.
Harry held out a piece of parchment. It was a signed and sealed statement from the Ministry and the Aurors confirming that Lucius Malfoy was indeed dead. It was procedure for all former Death Eaters now. Harry could still hear Barty Crouch, Jr.'s voice regaling them with the tale of his faked death. 'This is for you. Goes with the rest of Mr. Malfoy's papers.'
'Thank you. I guess,' she said flatly.
'You don't have to check in with us, you know,' Harry informed her quietly. 'You never had to.'
Narcissa shrugged. 'Habit by now,' she said diffidently. 'Doing it for Lucius for so long.' She looked down at the parchment in her hands. 'You kept us out of Azkaban.'
'It wasn't just me,' protested Harry.
'Mr. Potter, I know it was. If you hadn't been willing to speak on my behalf at the trial, my family would have been truly gone. Lucius and Draco would have received sentences equal to any of those still in prison.'
Harry squirmed. 'Lucius wasn't able to do much of anything when he escaped from Azkaban,' he said. 'And his wand was destroyed when I left my aunt's house. If he had tried to leave Riddle's service he would have been dead. We both know that. And Draco had been punished enough his sixth and seventh years of school. Having to spend the rest of his life on what amounts to probation is fairly humiliating, I imagine. But not nearly as humiliating as a life sentence in Azkaban.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'I guess we're even, then,' he said.
'I guess we are.' Narcissa's head turned and she gazed out a window. Teddy was bouncing the football on his knee, while the children counted. 'He... Teddy... My sister.' Her voice cracked, and she drew in a deep breath to calm herself. 'It wasn't worth it,' she admitted. 'Sins of the fathers. Enough now,' Narcissa mused. She shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I've intruded on your hospitality long enough.' She rose to her feet and went to the front door.
Harry hastily pushed himself to standing and opened the door for Narcissa. He followed her out to the front garden. 'Scorpius,' she called.
Scorpius came running to them. 'Are you leaving?' he asked.
'I am. I believe Mr. Potter will be bringing you home Sunday afternoon?'
'Yes. After lunch with Ginny's family,' Harry confirmed.
'That's fine.' Narcissa looked down at her grandson. 'Do remember to behave, dear,' she said. 'And have a good time.' She hugged the boy tightly. 'I'll see you on Sunday.'
'Bye, Grandmother,' Scorpius said. He backed up to stand next to Harry and waved to Narcissa as she Disapparated..
FOURTEEN -- Payback
Ginny Apparated into the back garden of the house. The game had ended in less than twenty minutes. So after the requisite post-game press conference, Ginny quickly wrote an article praising the Harpies' new Seeker, left it on her editor's desk, and was home well before eight.
Every window in the house blazed with light. 'We're not paying to light up all of Godric's Hollow,' she muttered, as she walked toward the house, pointing her wand at the door.
Sighing, Ginny opened the back door, and dropped her bag in a chair at the table. She followed the sounds of an outer space battle to the sitting room.
Four children lay sprawled on the sitting room floor, cocooned in a nest of blankets and pillows, surrounded by a litter of sweets wrappers and root beer bottles. Scorpius' blonde head was framed by Lily's dark red one, and Al's tousled black one. Ginny perched on the arm of the sofa in time to hear the woman on the screen bark, 'I'd rather kiss a Wookie!' It always sent Lily into gales of giggles.
'You four need anything?' she asked.
'Hi, Mum.' James pulled his attention from the television long enough to glance over his shoulder at his mother. 'Game ended early,' he commented.
'Twenty minutes,' she informed him.
Al twisted around, looking at Ginny. 'That's it?' he asked incredulously.
'Yep.' Ginny watched the film a bit longer. 'Are you planning on watching all three of these before you go to bed tonight?'
'Uh-huh,' replied James absently, his lips moving silently with the dialog he had memorized before the age of ten.
'Don't stay up too late,' Ginny warned.
'Dad already told us to be in bed by twelve. Told us he'd check.' Al's voice drifted back from his new position, lying on this stomach.
'You four are going outdoors tomorrow. Get some sunshine, fresh air. Something that won't rot your brains,' Ginny stated, rising from her perch, and going in search of Harry.
She didn't have to look far. He was in the office, going through some paperwork. Harry looked up when she sat down in an armchair. 'Thanks for waking me up before Narcissa dropped Scorpius off,' he said genially. 'Oh, wait... You let me sleep, and then let me answer the door with the kind of makeup job I saw on the better drag queens in Soho, and that includes the blokes that lived downstairs.' Harry leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs. 'You'll have to pay for that, young lady,' he threatened.
'You know better than to fall asleep on the sofa when the boys are home at the same time,' chided Ginny. 'How many times have they done something to you while you've had a kip on the sofa?' she scoffed. 'You're lucky they've moved to makeup, which is much easier to remove than those charmed Muggle markers Fred and Jacob sent last summer,' she said dryly, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. 'I believe you had to go to work with a butterfly on your forehead for several days.'
'I was hoping you'd have forgotten that,' Harry muttered.
'They've also gotten rather good at switching out your copy of Quidditch Quarterly or Which Broomstick for one of my fluff Muggle novels or CosmoWitch, or even that Muggle catalog. You know the one? The one with all the women in their knickers?'
'Victoria's Secret,' smirked Harry.
'Not much of a secret there,' Ginny shot back. 'I've seen more material on sticking plasters and dental floss. I found one under James' bed after the Christmas holiday.'
Harry burst out laughing. 'That would explain why at Easter he stuffed it under the mattress.'
'Oh, Merlin, he's getting to that age, isn't he?' Ginny groaned theatrically.
'We did all right with Teddy,' offered Harry.
'Teddy didn't live here.'
'Oh, right.' Harry deflated a bit.
'When did Teddy leave, by the way?' Ginny twisted to sit sideways with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.
'After dinner. We got pizza.'
'Why the root beer?'
'Teddy,' Harry said simply, as if it explained everything. And it usually did. 'He brought it for Scorpius to try.' Harry set his chair back on its legs. 'I know what you're doing, Gin.'
'I'm not doing anything, besides engaging my husband in conversation about our children.'
'You're trying to distract me from my revenge,' growled Harry.
'We're not doing anything with four children in the house.'
'Oh yes, we are. Why do you think we've got all those Silencing charms on the bedroom?' Harry leered at his wife. 'You're not exactly quiet, Ginevra,' he drawled.
'Neither are you,' she retorted. 'Who was it that kept repeating how much he loved me the other night? Was that you?'
'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Harry deadpanned.
'And you are in so much trouble for calling me Ginevra.'
Harry rose from his chair, and slowly rounded the desk to Ginny. He leaned down over her, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, and let his lips brush against her ear before whispering what he would do to her in precise detail. 'Oh my,' Ginny breathed.
'"Oh my" is the least of what you'll be saying later.' Straightening, Harry made a show of checking the time on his watch. 'They've got about four hours or so left before their film fest is over.'
'What are you suggesting? That I go up first, then you wait five minutes or so, then follow me?' Ginny's mouth quirked in a grin. 'Your crack Head Auror at work, ladies and gentlemen!'
'Yeah, that's about it.'
'See you in five minutes.' Ginny stretched and oh-so-casually strolled out of the office and went upstairs.
Harry's grin faded. He turned back to the stack of folders on his desk. The topmost one bore the name of Draco Malfoy. The others were some of Voldemort's most ardent supporters who, while not necessarily Death Eaters, fought on his side. Harry nudged Draco's aside with his forefinger, and grimaced when he saw the name of Delores Umbridge, fanning the other folders across the desk. The others were rather minor players: Nott, Higgs, Flint, Avery, Urquhart. The grandfathers and fathers of the boys at Hogwarts who amused themselves by bullying Scorpius.
Harry knew some of them were responsible for the Muggle-baiting. They weren't connected with that group in Ireland. Harry's quiet reconnaissance over the past several years had established that. The Irish group was all talk. Ian Greengrass headed the group, and he wasn't stupid. Complaining and getting drunk was about all they did. Greengrass was at least intelligent enough to not encourage his 'friends' to engage in using Unforgiveables or Muggle-baiting.
Harry didn't think it was Draco, in spite of the fact Draco was related to Ian through marriage, but he wasn't sure, given Draco's attitudes toward his own son these days. However, Draco's freedom, such as it was, hinged on his continued good behavior. If he sneezed at the wrong time, Draco risked a lengthy Azkaban sentence.
Deep down, Harry hated that. While he found Draco's personal beliefs repugnant, he knew if Draco hadn't kept his mouth shut that night during the war, he might very well be dead. Or tortured into insanity. Either way, Harry knew he owed the Malfoys a debt of honor.
And the mere knowledge of that made him want to vomit.
Every six months, the people listed on these folders had to report to Harry's office at the Ministry, where he would use his now-considerable skill in Legilimency to discern the truth of their answers to his questions. This would be Umbridge's first visit. She had been released from Azkaban in mid-January.
But Draco...
Draco as a skilled Occlumens, had to drink Veritaserum during his visit to the Ministry. The first couple of years, he had abjectly refused to do so, and after getting Stunned by Aurors who had been Phoenix members, who then forced the potion down his throat, he now grudgingly drank it.
Harry looked forward to these semi-annual visits as much as he looked forward to receiving a pinch from an Acromantula. He would, in fact, much prefer to visit Aragog's descendents instead of running through the litany of questions regarding the lives of the wizards and one witch on his probation list.
Harry pulled the wand from his pocket and pointed it at the stack of folders. They zoomed into a cupboard. The cupboard doors closed and locked with a faint click. It wouldn't open for anyone besides Harry. Not even Ginny.
He looked up at the ceiling. Ginny would be waiting.
He slipped out of the office and went up the stairs.
Ginny reached for her wand on the night table. She languidly pointed it at Harry's bound wrists. 'That's for calling me "Ginevra".'
Harry pulled his wrists from the silk scarves looped through the headboard. 'I'll get you for that,' he muttered.
'Add it to the list,' Ginny replied cheekily.
Harry rolled over so Ginny lay beneath him. 'At this rate, we're going to spend a lot of time in this bed.'
'Do you hear me complaining?'
'Not yet, anyway.'
She picked up her watch from the night table and checked the time. 'One of us should go downstairs and check on the heathens.'
Harry heaved a sigh, and slid off the bed. 'I'll go,' he said. 'Go run a nice bath. I'll be back up in a bit.' He grabbed his jeans from the floor. 'I think we've still got the last film to go.' Harry buttoned the jeans, and yanked his t-shirt on. 'I'll come wash your back.'
He padded downstairs into the sitting room. All four children were still wide-awake, eyes fixed on the film playing on the television. 'Ewwwww,' Lily gagged. The man and woman on the screen began to kiss passionately, only to be interrupted by the cackles of the giant worm creature.
'Are you "ewww-ing" at that Jabba bloke or the kissing?' asked Scorpius curiously. Lily didn't strike him as the squeamish type.
'A little of both,' she admitted. 'He's got all those bogies around his mouth, and the kissing's just...' Lily trailed off and shuddered. 'Not as bad as when Mum and Dad do it, though,' she mused. 'That's just beyond gross.' Lily shook her head. 'Parents shouldn't do that,' she insisted.
'Will you pipe down?' James hissed irritably.
Lily stuck her tongue out at the back of James' head.
'How's it going?' asked Harry.
'Great, Dad.' James didn't even bother to look at Harry.
'Your mum and I are up in our room if you need anything.'
'Yeah, thanks, Dad,' replied Al absently.
Harry rolled his eyes, and went back upstairs, feeling only slightly obsolete.
Scorpius made a face as he and Harry Apparated in front of the mansion in Wiltshire. 'Blech. I hate Apparition,' he groaned. 'Makes me want to throw up.'
'I felt that way the first time someone Side-Alonged me,' Harry told him. He looked up at the mansion. It was the first time in two decades Harry had even so much as looked at the mansion. He inhaled deeply and his hands balled into fists. 'Wow,' he breathed. 'It hasn't changed.'
'You've been here before?'
'You could say that,' Harry said softly. In the back of his mind, he could hear Hermione's screams of pain and Ron's bellows of outrage and fear. He blinked and the image of Dobby with a small silver knife protruding from his chest floated before his eyes.
Harry broke into a cold sweat, the mansion swimming in his vision. He felt dizzy. Damn, he thought muzzily. I should have let Ginny bring Scorpius home.
'Mr. Potter?' Scorpius' worried voice broke through the dizziness. 'Are you okay?'
'Yeah. Fine,' grunted Harry, swaying alarmingly. He should have known seeing the mansion would do this to him.
'Mr. Potter?' This time it was Narcissa Malfoy. She had come out to the gate to collect Scorpius. 'Harry?'
It was the use of his first name that made Harry try to get his breath under control. 'I'm fine,' he said firmly.
Narcissa drew her wand from a skirt pocket and conjured a glass. She silently pointed the tip at it and water streamed into the glass. 'Scorpius, darling, go inside,' she ordered. Scorpius looked up at his grandmother. Narcissa shook her head, and gestured for him to go inside. Shrugging, Scorpius slipped through the gate and headed for the front door. Narcissa pressed the glass of water into Harry's shaking hand. 'Drink it,' she said.
Harry squinted at the water, waving the glass under his nose. He pulled out his wand, ready to prod the surface when Narcissa spoke.
'It's just water, Mr. Potter,' Narcissa said dryly. 'But under the circumstances, I can't say I blame you.'
Deciding to trust her, Harry gulped some of the water. He waited for a few minutes, and when nothing happened, he drained the glass. 'Thanks,' he muttered, using his want to Vanish the glass.
Narcissa shrugged. 'Can't have you faint on my son's doorstep, now can I?' She looked closely at Harry. The hair along his temples was damp with sweat and he looked pale. The old, faded scar on his forehead stood out in blazing contrast. 'Do you feel as if you can make it home?'
Harry snorted. 'I'm nearly thirty-eight years old, Mrs. Malfoy; I think I can manage to Apparate home.' He started to leave, then stopped. 'Thank you,' he said quietly.
Ginny found Harry sitting in the dark office, a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the desk, next to a stack of dark purple Ministry files. 'You know the whisky only makes it worse.'
'I know.' The few times Harry had tried to use Firewhisky to keep the nightmares at bay hadn't helped at all. The dreams were more vivid and surreal. 'I've only had one glass.'
Ginny took the bottle off the desk. 'Want to tell me what happened?'
'I haven't laid eyes on the Malfoy mansion since I was captured in the war. Brought it all back. More than when the told the heathens about the war.'
Ginny reached for the switch on the desk lamp. It threw harsh shadows across Harry's face. He was still pale, the scar still a vivid slash under his fringe. 'We should have let Teddy take him home,' she said, her fingers tracing the scar, feeling the faint ridge under her fingertips.
'Yeah,' Harry said unhappily. 'Just when I think it's all gone.' He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, tugging it in frustration. 'I hate this week.'
'Why this one?'
'Probation interviews,' Harry moaned. 'And I get Umbridge.'
'That one might be fun,' said Ginny. 'Think about it as payback.' Ginny picked up Harry's cold, clammy hands. She ran her thumb over his wedding ring, before tilting the back of his right hand toward the light. If she looked closely, she could make out "I must not tell lies" in Harry's cramped scrawl etched into the skin. 'She'll have to answer to you, now.'
'Kingsley has a warped sense of humor,' Harry muttered.
'Harry...' Ginny stopped. There wasn't anything she could say right now. Harry often tried to fight his nightmares and demons alone, unwilling to admit, even now, that he would need help in the beginning. 'When are they over? The interviews?'
'Tomorrow. It's not a lot of them. Malfoy's the last one,' he sighed.
'I'll call Mum and see if she'll take the heathens Tuesday,' offered Ginny. She knew Harry wouldn't be in the best of moods after the interviews.
'No.' Harry pulled Ginny around the desk, and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead on her stomach. He tilted his head back to look up at her. 'I need you. All of you,' he emphasized. 'It reminds me we won.'
His head dropped back down, and his shoulders sagged, as Ginny gently stroked his hair.
Early the next afternoon, Draco sauntered into Harry's office. 'Potter,' he drawled.
Harry scowled a bit. 'Malfoy,' he replied. 'You're late,' he said mildly, marking the time on a sheet of parchment attached to the pile in Draco's file with a Permanent Sticking charm.
Draco dropped into a chair opposite the desk. 'Let's just get this humiliation over with, shall we?'
Harry said nothing but pulled a tiny vial from a locked drawer of his desk. He mutely pushed it across the desk.
Draco pulled the cork from the mouth of the vial. 'Cheers,' he muttered in an ironic toast before upending the contents down his throat.
Harry waited a few moments. The cold, haughty look faded from Draco's face, replaced by one of near-vacant eyed slackness. 'Residence?' Harry asked.
'You know where I live, Potter.' The hauteur never left Draco's voice, not even under the influence of Veritaserum.
'No, actually, I don't. I know your son lives there when he's not at school, and I know your wife lives there. Your mother is currently staying as a guest until she goes back to France. So please, state your residence.' Harry's voice grew cold and hard.
'The Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire.'
'Age?'
'Oh, Merlin's sagging bollocks, Potter, must we do this every bleeding six months?' Draco's language, normally modulated, degenerated into crude vernacular under the influence of Veritaserum.
'Until the Wizengamot says otherwise, or you die, then yes, we must do this every six months,' Harry replied evenly, knowing his lack of a reaction was irksome to Draco. 'Age?' he repeated.
'Thirty-eight,' Draco muttered.
'Occupation?'
Draco heaved an impatient sigh. 'None.'
'Wand?'
'Unicorn hair and hawthorn.'
'How long have you had it?' Harry sighed internally. Draco was right, damn him. Harry did know the answer to all these questions, but it was a formality that must be observed.
'Twenty-seven years, minus the weeks you had it.'
'May I see it?'
Draco pulled the wand from his pocket and slid it across the desk to Harry. Harry picked up the wand, feeling it hum in recognition as his hand closed around the handle. After twenty years, it still recognized him. Harry took the time to wonder if Draco's results with it were ever as good as they were before the war. He fought the urge to drop the wand and wipe his palm down the leg of his trousers. Instead, he twirled it, so the handle faced Draco, offering it back to him.
Every time he had to check Draco's wand it made Harry feel filthy. He knew the second he got home; he'd spend an hour in the shower, scrubbing himself until it felt like the topmost layer of skin was gone.
'Traveled anywhere the since we last spoke?'
'I spent Christmas with my parents in Nice, came back here for my interview with you in January, and went back to Nice until early June. I've been at the Manor ever since.'
'Been anywhere in Britain since then?'
'No,' Malfoy said flatly. 'But you and your little minions would know that wouldn't they?'
Harry ignored Malfoy. He wordlessly closed the file and put it away in a cabinet with the others, locking it with his wand. It would open only with a combination of Harry's thumbprint and his wand.
Harry leaned back in his chair, watching Malfoy through slitted eyes. The Veritaserum would wear off soon, and Malfoy could go home.
In a few minutes, the haze vanished from Malfoy's eyes. 'Are we done here?'
Harry nodded.
Draco rose from his chair and stalked from Harry's office. Harry pointed his wand at the door, and it swung shut and locked. He released the pent-up breath he felt like he'd been holding since the first interview, annoyed to find his hands shaking.
It was the same with all of them.
The first time Harry had to interview a wizard on probation; he had rushed home to his new flat, fighting the rising nausea. He had managed to stumble into the flat and dart into the bathroom, where he flung himself to the floor in front of the toilet, and threw up what little remained in his stomach. He'd only been eighteen at the time. He'd been required to use his neophyte Legilimency skills on his first interview, and being able to see inside Urquhart's mind had made him feel unclean.
The feeling never went away or lessened.
FIFTEEN -- Spinning Into Nothing
Harry Apparated into the back garden of the house, glancing around the garden warily. It was far too quiet for a mid-summer afternoon. James and Al should be out flying, taking turns to give Lily a chance on their brooms when they thought neither Harry, nor Ginny was looking. There were no sounds of splashes and yelps coming from the pond. The vacant swing hanging from the elm tree swayed slightly in the breeze.
Harry shrugged, trying to shake his unease. Lily could be inside reading, as could Al and James. Or Ginny could have set them some chores for the afternoon. All three of them badly needed to sort through their outgrown clothing before it came time to buy their things for school.
He stood with his hand on the doorknob of the back door, waiting for something. He threw a glance over his shoulder toward the pond, thinking he could go for a swim, but the idea of a scalding shower and a good scrub with soap drew him inside the house.
Inside the very quiet house.
Harry stilled, barely breathing. He slowly slid his wand from his pocket, and held it lightly in his hand. His eyes traveled carefully around the kitchen, looking for something out of place. There were no overturned chairs or debris on the floor. Something caught his attention at the corner of his eye.
Harry -- Took the heathens to the Burrow for the afternoon. Will be back for dinner. Gin
Harry drew in a deep breath. What the bloody hell were you thinking, Potter? That somebody kidnapped your extremely capable wife with nary a struggle? Harry let the note drop from his sweaty hand to the table.
Had he mentioned how much he hated the probation interviews?
Harry sat on the edge of a chair and untied his boots, tossing them by the kitchen door. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off, dropping it on the floor next to his feet, and then stood to unfasten his trousers. He pushed them down his legs and kicked them off to join the shirt. His socks and boxers soon followed. Harry's gaze settled on the fireplace in the kitchen. Should I burn them? he thought. Each time he came home after one of these days, he considered burning his clothes, but never did. His hand twitched around the handle of his wand and he was on the verge of Banishing his clothes to the fireplace and setting them on fire. Instead, he stooped and picked up the bundle of clothing, and threw it in a basket on top of the washing machine in the scullery.
Naked, Harry ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, and strode into the bathroom. He closed the bathroom door, and went to the bathtub. He twisted the hot water tap as far as it would go, and held a hand under the water. When he had to snatch his hand away, lest he burn it, he added just enough cold water to make it bearable, and turned the shower on.
He stepped into the hot, pounding spray, and let his flow over his head. The warmth forced his shoulders to relax and as his shoulders fell from their position somewhere around his ears, he felt his stomach unclench.
Harry felt his throat constrict and he fell to his knees, hands clutching the sides of the tub. He coughed and retched, but nothing came up. He gasped for air between retches, until the feeling subsided. He knelt, panting for air, until he was certain the retching had stopped, the muscles of his abdomen aching from the strain.
Harry Potter's legendary iron self-control cracked.
He screamed, howling with renewed pain and rage. Mourning his parents, Sirius, Remus. All the people he loved who had died for him. As long as the bathroom and bedroom doors remained shut, the Silencing charms held, and he sat back, his arms wrapped around his knees, the roar of anguish slowly dwindling to a whisper.
Harry lifted his face from his knees and he let the hot water pour over his raw cheeks. When did I start crying? he wondered. Christ, Potter, when did you let them start getting to you like that? He had to admit, he'd been more rattled by seeing the Malfoy mansion than he cared to admit. 'Maybe I'm not cut out for this anymore...' he muttered to the rubber duck, sitting in cheerful insouciance on the rim of the tub.
Shacklebolt came into Harry's office not ten minutes after Draco had left. Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. 'Are you sure you should keep me on as Head Auror?' He pulled his hands away from his face, and the glasses fell back onto his nose.
Shacklebolt's eyebrow rose slightly. 'Why wouldn't I?'
'Why did you do it? Make me Head Auror so young?' Harry gazed at Shacklebolt. 'You've never told me.'
Shacklebolt stretched out his feet in front of him and crossed his ankles, slouching a bit. 'You know when you admit you're over your head and need help. You knew that when you were fourteen. You know how to admit you're wrong about something. Or someone, even if you don't like to admit it. After everything we'd been through, I thought we needed someone like that here.'
'But why me?'
'Why did you not like Fudge or Scrimgeour?'
Harry sat back, and closed his eyes, contemplating the two previous Ministers. 'Fudge was willfully blind to what transpired in front of his own eyes. It interfered with his idea of how things were supposed to be. He refused to listen to anybody else's opinions in that regard. And Scrimgeour? He was the same type of man. Had an idea of what things were supposed to be like, and when they didn't fit neatly into his perception of them, he tried to project an air of sturdy confidence that things would be all right. Got miffed when people didn't act the way he wanted them to, or when he couldn't manipulate them. Acknowledged the bad things, but made people feel he was doing something when he just spun his wheels...' Harry's eyes opened, and he looked at Shacklebolt. 'Kingsley, that still doesn't explain why you think I'm the best for this job, still.'
'Because you're not like Fudge or Scrimgeour,' Shacklebolt said. 'You've always eschewed the limelight, and you've never felt you deserve accolades, simply for what you've done years ago. It's always about what you could do next.' Shacklebolt sat up a bit straighter. 'And you've never felt the need to cash in on your name.' He examined Harry closely. 'What brought this on?'
'It doesn't get better. Even with twenty years, this...' Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 'This day doesn't get easier.'
Shacklebolt leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 'That doesn't make you a bad Auror, Harry. It just makes you human.'
Harry remained seated on the floor of the tub, and reached for the washcloth and soap, and began to lather the washcloth. He started to scrub the soles of his feet. It was almost routine. The soles of the feet, the toes, ankles, legs, stomach, chest, back, arms, hands, neck, ears, face. He washed his hair twice. He was so lost in thought, he didn't see or hear someone slip into the steamy bathroom, and step into the tub and sit behind him. 'Ahhhh!'
'And you wonder why the boys prank you,' Ginny said lightly. 'You're an easy target when you're lost in thought.'
Harry retrieved the dropped washcloth, and carefully lathered it again. 'Where are the heathens?' he asked, trying to make normal conversation.
'With Mum and Dad. I thought you could use the peace and quiet.'
'I told you not to do that last night,' Harry said slightly annoyed.
'And I heard you.' Ginny tugged the washcloth from Harry's hands, and slowly moved it in circles around his tense back. 'We'll pick them up at lunchtime tomorrow.' Ginny leaned around Harry's hunched body, and flicked her wand at the taps. The rubber stopper neatly fitted itself in the drain, and the flow of water switched from the showerhead to the taps. The bathtub filled rapidly, having been charmed to do so when James was a baby. Ginny pushed herself to the back of the tub, dragging Harry with her. She leaned back, and pulled Harry down. He resisted for a moment, then sagged back, his head resting on her shoulder. 'I thought you -- we -- could use the time alone,' she said gently, stroking his wet hair.
'Yeah,' Harry muttered darkly. 'I'm not fit company for anyone.'
'Good thing I'm your wife and not just anyone.'
'Why isn't it better?' he whined petulantly. 'Why does it still get to me?'
'I don't know,' Ginny said softly, helplessly. She lifted a dripping hand and massaged the knots from his neck.
'I'm sorry...' Harry sighed. 'I shouldn't complain...'
'But every time you have to do this, it makes you relive things you'd rather not remember,' Ginny finished.
'Yeah.' Harry was silent for a moment. 'Do you think I can still do my job? And do it well?'
Ginny leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. 'Truthfully?'
Harry twisted his head to look back at her. 'Of course. I don't want you to blow a Cheering charm up my arse just to make me feel better about myself,' he said sullenly.
'Lose the attitude, Potter,' Ginny said, shoving his shoulder. 'Otherwise, I'm going to have to ground you.'
Harry snorted and examined the palms of his hands. He was starting to get wrinkly. 'Good luck with that.'
'Most of the time, yes, you can do your job very, very well. But...' Ginny chewed the inside of her cheek.
'But?' Harry prompted.
'But you need to learn to let things go sometimes,' Ginny said quietly. 'It's not worth all this. They are not worth everything you put yourself through sometimes.'
'But they -- ' Harry began mulishly, sitting up forcefully, sloshing water over the side of the tub as he turned around to face Ginny.
'I know what they did. I know that's why you became an Auror. I know it's why you work so hard.'
'If I let it go... What those people did, what's to say they won't do it again?'
'What's to say it's not someone else? Someone that's not one of those names on your list?' Harry's mouth dropped open. 'Never considered that, eh?'
'Well... Yes, I did but...'
'You didn't think it could be anybody else except a former Riddle supporter, since Muggle-baiting was one of their hallmarks? Haven't you ever heard the term "copycat"?'
Harry said a few words that threatened to peel the paint from the bathroom walls. 'Yes, Ginny, I have,' he replied sarcastically. 'But still...'
'What?'
'I've got this...' Harry shrugged. 'Feeling.'
'Feeling?'
'Yeah.' Harry turned around and leaned back against Ginny. 'The same feeling that told me to kiss the Snitch before I went into the Forest. The same feeling that told me to play dead afterwards. The same feeling that made me investigate Greengrass' gang in Dublin. The same feeling that makes me think there's more to this round of Muggle-baiting than is visible. Even with no proof.' He hitched a shoulder in a half-shrug. 'I can't really explain it.' He allowed his hands to float on the surface of the water, watching the play of the shadows of the ripples of water over the backs of his hands. 'I'm sorry, Gin,' he said abruptly.
'For what?'
'For dragging you into this, too.'
Ginny rested her head back on the rim of the tub. 'Part of the package. I knew that when I married you.'
Harry arched his body, seeking leverage, as he reached back for the afghan over the back of the sofa. Ginny shook her head as Harry tucked it around the both of them. 'We're alone... Who's going to see?'
'Do you remember the last time we did anything outside our bedroom without a blanket of some sort near by?'
'Ron seemed to get over it by the time James went to school.'
'Yeah, and it only took eight years.' Harry chuckled a little. 'I don't think he could look either of us in the face until Lily was born.' He sobered and gave Ginny a guilty look. 'I'm really sorry about this...' He gestured at the two of them sprawled on the hearthrug. 'I shouldn't have -- I dunno -- used you like that.' He twisted a strand of the fringe decorating the afghan around his finger. 'Or any other time I've done that,' he said in a low voice. '
Ginny looked at him in astonishment.
Then she burst into laughter. Ginny pulled a corner of the afghan over her face, whooping. After several minutes, she peeked at Harry from under the fringe, chortling with mirth. 'You think I haven't known what you've been doing?' she asked. 'Twenty years,' Ginny stated. 'Every nightmare, every bad day, every Dark wizard that makes you feel like everything you've done isn't enough.'
'That doesn't make it right, though,' Harry mumbled.
'And after all this time, you've just decided to say something?'
'Well, no...' Harry hitched himself up against the cushions piled against the front of the sofa. 'Just thought it was kind of weird. It's just...' He picked up Ginny's hand and traced the lines on her palm, as if he was trying to tell her fortune. 'Sometimes, when we're...' Harry coughed, making a vague gesture with his other hand. 'You're the only thing that seems real.' He laced his fingers through Ginny's. 'That didn't sound as lame in my head.'
'It doesn't sound lame at all. And Harry --' Ginny wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 'If I'd ever minded being your source of comfort or whatever you want to call it, I'd have said something. A long time ago.'
'Grandmother, you've got a letter,' Scorpius said, holding up an envelope, as he trotted into the sitting room.
Narcissa took the letter, a bit startled. There wasn't anybody she would receive mail from. Perhaps it's Andromeda... She opened the letter, in apprehension. Maybe Andromeda would say, 'Thanks, Narcissa, but no. I've had nineteen years to think about it and I'd just rather keep things as they are...'
The letter was short, but Narcissa sighed in relief nonetheless.
Dear Narcissa,
You are right. It's not too late.
Will you be able to come this Saturday afternoon? Bring Daphne and Scorpius. Teddy will be here, too.
Andie
Narcissa looked at her grandson, who was stretched out on his stomach, his Transfiguration textbook in front of him, writing an essay for his summer homework. 'So, Scorpius, how would you like to go visit Teddy and Andromeda Saturday afternoon?'
Scorpius' face lit up. 'Really?'
Andromeda waved the letter under his nose. 'Yes, really. She's invited you, your mother, and me.'
'And Teddy will be there?' Scorpius asked excitedly
'Yes.'
Scorpius wrote a few more lines on his essay, before he looked up at his grandmother. 'Are you sure it will be okay to go?'
Narcissa knew what he meant. 'We just won't tell your father then,' she said crisply.
'We won't tell Draco what?' asked Daphne, coming into the sitting room.
'We're going to see Teddy Saturday!' Scorpius said happily.
'Would you like to come with us?' Narcissa asked Daphne.
'I'd love to. Draco's been in a mood this week. It's worse than trying to appease bowtruckles.'
Andie,
We'll be at your house at three Saturday afternoon, if that's all right with you.
Narcissa
Teddy lounged against the kitchen counter, licking the last of the peanut butter from his spoon, a pair of Muggle sunglasses perched on top of his turquoise hair. 'Teddy?' Andromeda's voice came from the doorway. 'Do you have to have the turquoise hair today?'
'As opposed to any other day?' He dug another spoonful of peanut butter from the jar and stuck the entire spoon in his mouth.
'Teddy, please,' Andromeda pleaded.
Teddy frowned, trying to pull his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He yanked the refrigerator door open, and pulled out the carton of milk, gulping a few swallows from the carton. 'Gran, I promise you, Scorpius has seen my hair. And I'm sure his grandmother and mother have seen the photographs from last Christmas, so ergo, they've seen my hair.' Teddy dug another spoonful of peanut butter from the jar and replaced the lid. 'Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?'
Andromeda paused in the act of straightening the vase of flowers on the kitchen table. 'I don't know,' she admitted. 'Old habits die hard, I suppose. Non-conformity was frowned upon in the Black family.' She went to Teddy and reached up to ruffle his hair. 'Keep it that way.'
Teddy put the jar away in the pantry. 'When was the last time you saw your sister?'
'Oh... You weren't quite two, I suppose.'
'Why did she come see you then, and not once since then?'
'She was leaving,' Andromeda said shrugging. 'Moving to France permanently. Wanted to say goodbye in person.' Andromeda reached up to take the good tea set down from the top shelf of the cupboard. 'You had been with Harry and Ginny that weekend...'
'Would you two like to stay for dinner?' she asked. Harry looked at Ginny, who looked back at Harry, an entire conversation in those looks. Andromeda had to smother a laugh. Already communicating in those married couple 'looks'.
'If it's no trouble,' Harry said.
'None at all.' Andromeda grinned impishly. 'Then I can recruit you into giving Teddy a bath later. He's in a spaghetti phase, and you'd be amazed where those noodles will end up.' Andromeda led the way into the kitchen, where she maneuvered Teddy expertly into his high chair.
After dinner, Harry carried Teddy upstairs to the bathroom. They were both liberally covered in marinara sauce and noodles. Teddy had offered handfuls of the slippery pasta to feed Harry, and Harry obliged by eating them. Ginny and Andromeda had unsuccessfully stifled their laughter. For a brief moment, Ginny could see echoes of Tonks in her mother.
Andromeda looked at Ginny, as Ginny's eyes followed Harry and Teddy out of the room. 'So, when are you two going to make it official?'
Ginny choked on her tea. Eyes watering, she fired a glance at the older woman, which had no effect on Andromeda at all. 'I'm not even a year out of school,' she pointed out.
'Old enough to know your own mind, wouldn't you say?'
'Well, yes, but...' Ginny spluttered. She wilted under the laser-like gaze of Andromeda. 'We'vetalkedaboutit,' she muttered.
'Talked? Well now, talking is... A start. I don't mean to pry or prod, dear, but he's a lot happier than that scared, angry, confused boy who showed up in my back garden three years ago. I think a lot of that has to do with you,' Andromeda sat back, watching the play of emotion on Ginny's face. Andromeda smiled to herself, and tactfully changed the subject to the upcoming Chaser tryouts. Ginny had been a reserve player for a year, and one of the other players was retiring. She was hoping to take up the vacancy. They chatted amiably for the next half-hour, until Harry came back downstairs with Teddy, who was bathed, dressed in fresh pajamas, and smelled strongly of talcum powder.
As Ginny and Harry prepared to leave, there was a knock on the door. Andromeda's face grew ashen when she opened the door. 'May I come in?'
It was Narcissa Malfoy.
Harry and Ginny spun around, mouths gaping. Ginny collected herself faster, shutting her mouth with a snap. She elbowed Harry, who shook himself, rather like a dog. Narcissa turned to face Harry. Harry was only slightly surprised to find the expression on Narcissa's face far less haughty than it had been before. It softened even further. 'Harry Potter...'
'Mrs. Malfoy.' Harry paused, frantically trying to think of something to say.
Ginny saved him by touching Andromeda on the arm. 'We'll see you on Saturday,' she said softly. Andromeda nodded and Harry and Ginny Flooed back to Soho.
Andromeda's hands went behind her back, where she could clutch them unseen. 'Narcissa,' she said coolly.
'Andie... Andromeda.' Narcissa visibly swallowed. 'I wanted to tell you goodbye. In person.'
'Where are you going?' Andromeda asked sharply, peering through the dark windows, looking for the Hit Wizards that should have accompanied Narcissa, if she were going to Azkaban. 'Surely, the Wizengamot hasn't reconsidered and decided to send you to Azkaban...'
'No, they haven't. We -- Lucius and I -- are going to France. Nice, to be exact. We've just been given permission by the Wizengamot to leave.'
'Why?' Andromeda blushed slightly to hear the child-like tone in her voice.
'Too many looks. Too many whispers. Every time we leave the house. Mr. Potter's testimony at the trial notwithstanding.' Narcissa traced the pattern of the sitting room rug with her eyes. 'I regret...' Her voice broke. 'I'm sorry...'
The sound of Teddy gurgling in laughter as he tried to scoot down the stairs on his heavily padded bottom broke the tension. 'Teddy!' Andromeda exclaimed in exasperation. He had learned how to climb out of his cot. She swung the boy into her arms, nuzzling his turquoise hair. 'What am I going to do with you? Just like your father and mother, it seems.' Andromeda turned toward Narcissa. 'My grandson,' she said by way of introduction.
'I know.' Narcissa took a step forward, and Teddy's hair faded to sandy brown, and he buried his face in Andromeda's neck, overcome by a sudden fit of shyness. 'He looks like... Like...'
'Remus. He had a name. Remus Lupin. Antonin Dolohov killed him.' Andromeda's eyes bored steadily into Narcissa.
Narcissa looked at her sister in the eyes. 'He looks like Remus,' she said. Narcissa's gaze went back to Teddy, who was peeping around Andromeda's arm at the strange lady. 'And... Nymphadora,' she said carefully.
'I'm going to go put him back to bed,' Andromeda said. 'It won't take more than a moment or two.' Narcissa nodded her eyes back on the rug. Andromeda climbed the stairs and lay Teddy in his cot, handing him the stuffed wolf he carried nearly everywhere. Andromeda squeezed her trembling hands together and spent several long moments trying to collect herself. Isn't this what she had wanted for years? For one member of her family, other than Sirius, to remember she existed?
When Andromeda finally went back to the sitting room, Narcissa was gone.
'She left a note on the mantle,' Andromeda finished. 'We wrote once or twice a year. I didn't even know she had stayed in England after Lucius' funeral. And she sent me that letter a few weeks ago.'
'No offense, Gran, but your family...' Teddy shook his head.
'None taken,' she said wryly. 'But you've been spoiled, lad.'
'How so?'
'You have a godfather, who knows all too well what it's like to grow up an orphan,' she pointed out. 'As well you know.'
'Yeah...'
'You also have the advantage of his being married to a woman who comes from one of the most closely-knit families I've ever seen. And they all but adopted you. And me. You've never had a birthday or Christmas go by where you've been forgotten. You know they love you. Especially Harry and Ginny. Not everybody has that.'
'I know, Gran.' Teddy had heard horror stories from the other Weasleys about Harry's Muggle relations. He had also heard Al and James talk about how Scorpius' Greengrass cousins harassed him during school.
The conversation was cut short by a knock on the door.
SIXTEEN -- Things to Forget
The conversation was cut short by a knock on the door.
Andromeda froze, her head cocked toward the front door. She nervously wiped her hands on a tea towel. Teddy's brow furrowed in concern as her eyes widened and face drained of what little color it had. 'Gran?'
'Could you answer the door, Teddy?' she asked, in a strained voice.
Teddy didn't say anything but gave Andromeda's shoulder what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, as he walked past her. He went to the front door, hurrying as another knock sounded. He was greeted by the sight of Scorpius bobbing excitedly on the balls of his feet, accompanied by two women. 'Teddy!' Scorpius cried, beaming.
'Hiya.' Teddy looked at two women standing behind Scorpius. 'Come in,' he said, gesturing to the sitting room. 'Gran'll be out in a moment.' He ruffled Scorpius' hair. 'Since you know everyone, why don't you do the honors?'
'Oh, right.' Scorpius turned to his grandmother and mother. 'Grandmother, Mother, this is Teddy Lupin. Teddy, this is my grandmother and mother, Narcissa and Daphne Malfoy.'
Teddy automatically held out a hand. 'It's nice to meet you both,' he said politely, still unsure what to make of the older woman, given what he had heard about Andromeda's childhood.
Narcissa hesitated for a moment, and then took Teddy's hand in a firm grasp. 'It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Scorpius talks about you often.'
'Oh, well...' Teddy flushed and his hair went orange at the tips for a moment.
'He's convinced you're the most brilliant person in Britain.' Daphne's wry tone made Scorpius blush.
'Mother!' he whispered, scandalized that she made his obvious hero-worship public knowledge.
He was saved by Narcissa's sharp intake of breath. She focused on something over Teddy's left shoulder. Teddy turned and saw Andromeda standing in the doorway, her shaking hands clasped in front of her. 'Narcissa,' she said softly, biting her lip.
'Andromeda,' Narcissa breathed.
It was then both of them knew the sporadic contact with letters had never been satisfactory for either of them. They slowly walked toward each other, eyes fixed on the other's face, barely breathing. Narcissa reached out and took one of Andromeda's hands.
It seemed to crack the carefully constructed wall behind which Andromeda had pushed everything regarding her family for nearly fifty years.
Andromeda lifted a hand and timidly traced the fine lines around Narcissa's eyes with a trembling fingertip. 'You haven't changed,' she said.
Narcissa gave her a tremulous smile, as she traced the streaks of silver in Andromeda's light brown hair. 'Oh, how I've missed you,' she sighed. 'You have no idea how much I've missed you.'
For several long moments, they stood still, just taking in the changes the past twenty years had wrought.
Teddy put a hand on Scorpius' shoulder and met Daphne's eyes. He wordlessly jerked his head toward the kitchen and began to steer the younger boy into it. 'Have a seat,' he said quietly, gesturing at the table. 'We'll give them a moment, then.' A snuffling sound reached their ears. Teddy gave the doorway a long, thoughtful look. 'Maybe two,' he said, considering.
'So, Teddy, you're out of school?' Daphne asked, desperately trying to make conversation.
'Yes, two years ago. I'm an Obliviator.'
'And he plays football,' interjected Scorpius.
'Football?' Daphne looked in bemusement between her son and his cousin.
'Muggle sport,' Teddy answered. 'You have to kick a ball into a net around the person guarding it. You can use your feet, knees, chest, head, but no hands. I went to a Muggle primary school,' he said unabashedly. 'Nobody in my family's very good at it. They prefer Quidditch.'
'Family?' Daphne was confused. If memory served, Narcissa and Andromeda were the only two people left in their family, and Andromeda had been disowned; and Teddy was an orphan.
'My godfather's family.' Teddy shrugged. 'They have a rather wide definition of what makes one a member of the family. They've got more than enough affection to spread around.'
'Scorpius also tells me you're a Metamorphmagus.'
'Yeah. My mum was one, too.' Teddy winked at Scorpius and his eyes unfocused slightly, crossing a bit. His hair grew shaggier and faded and brightened to the same platinum blonde that graced Scorpius' head, and his features sharpened until he looked like Scorpius' elder brother.
Daphne's mouth dropped open. 'That's a rather useful skill,' she observed.
Teddy grinned and shook his head. The hair shortened and reverted to turquoise. He looked at the doorway again. 'I wonder what's taking so long?' he mused.
Tears fell freely down Narcissa's face. 'Why did you leave me behind?' she choked.
'Oh, Narcissa,' Andromeda sniffled. 'I didn't want to leave, but I had to. Marrying Lucius and living that life was not an option. I would have died. I was never cut out for it.'
'What made you think I wanted that life?' Narcissa fished for a handkerchief in her skirt pocket, and wiped her eyes with it.
'I didn't. You still had to finish school. You were underage.' Andromeda sat heavily on the sofa, pulling Narcissa down with her. 'I hoped until the day you married him that you'd come here.'
'I wanted to.' Narcissa laughed bitterly. 'But like everything else, I was too afraid to do it. I wish I had your courage.'
They sat for another moment before Teddy stuck his head out of the kitchen. 'Gran? Are you all right?'
Andromeda brushed away the unheeded tears, a little surprise showing on her face. 'I'm fine, Teddy.' She drew in a shaky breath. 'Would you mind making some tea?'
'Uh, Gran? I don't make tea. It's either colored water, or strong enough to peel paint from the walls. The last time I tried to make coffee at the office, it nearly ate through a spoon when O'Connor tried to stir some sugar and milk into it.'
'Right.' Andromeda shook her head. 'Momentary lapse of concentration, dear.' Her expression softened. 'We'll join you in a minute.' She sighed heavily, and looked down at her and Narcissa's still-clasped hands. 'You don't think it's too late to start over?'
Narcissa leaned against Andromeda, suddenly feeling exhausted. 'No.'
'Can I ask you something?'
'Of course.'
'What was it like -- to be married to Lucius?'
Narcissa reared back a little. 'You're joking...'
'I'd like to know what I missed out on by running away like that.'
'It was... Demanding.' Narcissa leaned against the back of the sofa. 'Rather arduous. To keep up the façade all the time. When we went into public, I pretended Lucius had stepped in dog poo in order to keep the proper haughty expression on my face,' she confessed in a whisper. 'Separate bedrooms, but I didn't care. He didn't, ah, visit often, until the rumors started to fly that he was impotent. And once Draco was born...' She shrugged. 'At least Draco took after his father and not our side of the family.'
'Why's that?'
'Put the rumors to rest, kept the façade in place. Appearances were what mattered.' Narcissa gave Andromeda a sidelong look. 'You were lucky,' she commented.
'I was. More than I ever felt I deserved.'
Narcissa's eye fell on the triptych of photographs on a side table. Nymphadora was flanked by Ted and Remus. 'How can you not be bitter? You lost everything.'
'Not everything. I have Teddy. And there were plenty of days I raged against Fate, or God, or whatever it was that took them away from me.'
'I know it's twenty years too late, but I'm so sorry. I wish...'
'You weren't part of it,' Andromeda said firmly. 'Harry told me everything after their funeral.' She rubbed her eyes. 'I'm not sure he actually remembers much about telling me. He was on autopilot in those days. He kept begging me to forgive him.'
'Why would he do that?' Narcissa was mystified.
'He felt it was his fault they died. He felt the whole thing was his fault.'
'That's absurd.'
'Everyone knew that. Everyone except Harry Potter.' Andromeda knew about the nightmares and spasms of guilt that still gripped him. She looked at Narcissa. 'How long are you staying? In England, I mean?'
'Probably until Scorpius goes back to school.'
Andromeda nodded. 'You'll come see me before you go?' She couldn't keep the faint plea from her voice.
'Try to stop me.' Narcissa pulled Andromeda into an embrace. 'Try to stop me,' she repeated in a whisper, a hint of defiance in her voice.
'The England-Argentina match will be next Tuesday evening in Tutshill. The Ireland-Ukraine match will be on Thursday in Kenmare. We'll need as many of you to help out both nights as possible. There's going to be a lot of people coming in from all over Britain and using the campgrounds in the area. As hard as we try, you know we just have to show off to each other, but seriously, try to keep the Obliviations to a minimum on any one person. Makes 'em loopy for a good while later. Sign up sheets for either Tutshill or Kenmare are over here,' Carolina Hodges, the Head of the Obliviators, waved her wand at the wall, and two sheets of parchment appeared.
Harry, who had been standing in the doorway, made a mental note to see if he could get tickets to either game next week. The boys had been behaving, but he didn't trust them to sit in the press box with Ginny. He didn't come all the way into the large room that housed the Obliviators on shift during the daytime. Music blared, games of Exploding Snap and chess were played, and charmed toy dragons flew about the room, while they waited for an incident to light up the large, detailed map of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. It was like being in a Hogwarts' common room. Harry searched for Teddy's tell-tale bright hair in the chaos. 'Could I be helpin' ye a'tall, then, Mr. Potter?' A mellow Irish voice broke into Harry's thoughts.
Harry looked down at a small witch, who looked like she had barely finished her fourth year of school. She had sandy hair and freckles and looked vaguely familiar. 'You wouldn't happen to be related to Seamus Finnegan, would you?' he asked.
'Oh, aye. His mam and my da are brother an' sister, now. Siobhan Kiernan,' she said.
'How old are you?'
'Twenty-six, sir,' she said, laughing.
Harry goggled. 'You hardly look older than my oldest son.'
'Comes in handy.' Siobhan grinned widely. 'Now, then, who is it you're lookin' for?'
'Teddy Lupin. I thought he was supposed to be working the early shift this week.'
'Oh, aye, he is.' Siobhan turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth. 'Oi! Lupin! Ye got a visitor!'
Teddy's head popped up from the floor, where he'd been lying on his stomach, playing chess with one of his yearmates from school. He gave the board one last grimace, and tipped over his king. 'You'd have had me in a few more moves anyway,' he said reluctantly. He scrambled to his feet and loped over to where Harry stood with Siobhan. 'Thanks, Siobhan. Hi, Harry, what brings you down here? Ready to give up being an Auror and do the real work?' Teddy teased.
'Not quite yet, but can I have a word with you?' Harry asked quietly. 'In private?'
Teddy's eyes went wide. 'Harry, I swear, I had Vic back at Shell Cottage before midnight.'
'What?' Harry looked at Teddy in obvious confusion. 'Why would I care about that? And Victoire's of age anyway.'
'Tell that to Bill,' Teddy muttered, his hair flashing deep purple.
'I'd rather face a Horntail without my broom. Good luck with that.' Harry clapped a hand on Teddy's back. 'Come on, we'll go to my office.' They rode the lift to level two, and Harry closed and locked the door to his office. 'I have a question about Memory charms.'
'Okay...' Teddy said uncertainly. 'Don't you know about them?'
'Of course I do. Head Auror's office... Hello?' Harry said cheekily. 'Seriously, this isn't like the time when I asked if you knew about sex, and you asked me, in all sincerity, if there was something I needed to know.' Harry sat on his desk. 'When you Obliviate someone, it's totally gone, right? You can't see it with Legilimency or Veritaserum?'
Teddy sat in a chair and put his feet on the desk, staring at the ceiling. 'Depends on how good the person is. If one of us does it,' he said, flicking the badge on his shirt, identifying him as an Obliviator. 'Then yes, it's usually gone. They won't even remember the person who performed the charm. It's like it never happened.'
'But what about someone else?' Harry prodded.
'Like I said, it depends. If the person doing the charm isn't particularly skilled at it, they leave the memory behind, but it's got so many holes in it, the person just assumes it was a dream and goes on with life.'
'Would that show up?'
Teddy scratched his nose meditatively. 'Maybe. But generally not. We had a decent Legilimens on the squad last year before he retired. He said that's what usually happens with a Mass Memory charm. It makes the person think they were dreaming, and dreams don't show up in the same way as genuine memories in Legilimency or Veritaserum.'
'What's the difference?' Memories were Harry's least favorite area to deal with.
Teddy sighed explosively. 'The only sure way is to use Legilimency. It's got the same quality when you use a Pensieve to look at a memory that's been tampered with.'
'Shit,' breathed Harry. While he was pretty sure the person he was looking for wasn't Draco Malfoy, the fact that he was a skilled Occlumens made this that much more difficult. He looked at Teddy askance. 'How do you know all this?' he asked curiously.
Teddy began to crack his knuckles. 'My fourth year, I guess. I'd spend a lot of time between classes at that memorial wall in the corridor just past the entrance, looking at those portraits of Mum and Dad.' He paused. 'It's stupid,' Teddy said mulishly.
'It's not stupid,' Harry said quietly, remembering how badly he'd wanted to know his own parents. Remembering wondering if he deliberately failed to produce a Patronus, just so he could hear his parents' voices.
Teddy looked at the floor, tracing a scar in the wood with the toe of a shoe. 'Sometimes,' he continued in a low voice. 'Sometimes, it felt like... Like I was being watched. The hair on the back of my neck would stand up. But not in a bad way,' he added, seeing the flash of alarm cross Harry's face. 'Like when Vic and I were younger, and we'd go for a walk after Sunday lunch, and I'd get a feeling that we were being watched, and it was one of the little ones. Or a lot of the little ones.' Teddy looked at Harry, his grey eyes bright with tears. 'I used to think it was Mum or Dad watching me.' Harry said nothing, but nodded in understanding.
Teddy was silent for several long moments. 'It made me start to think about memories. If I had any of them, even though I was barely a month old when they died. Gran had all of Dad's books in the attic, so I started trying to find out everything I could about memories.' Teddy looked out of the window of Harry's office. The 'weather' that day was gloomy and rainy. Teddy supposed it was because it was Monday, and Maintenance usually chose rubbish weather on Mondays. 'Does it sound nutters?'
Harry snorted. 'No. I know exactly how you feel.'
'Is that why Dad picked you? To be my godfather, even though you were only seventeen? Because you knew what it was like, in case something happened to him or Mum? Or both?'
'Probably. Almost a bad decision, in hindsight.'
'Why is that? You've been brilliant at this. My whole life.'
'Because there was a very good chance that I was going to die before Remus or Dora did.' Harry chuckled. 'Not a very good quality in a godfather, mind you.' He sobered and fixed Teddy with a piercing glare. 'So what's this about you and Victoire?'
'Damn. I hoped you'd have forgotten that,' Teddy muttered.
'So?' Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. Teddy wilted under his gaze.
'Over the Easter holiday, I took Vic out on a date, and we didn't get home until three in the morning.' Teddy blew out a gust of air. 'Bill damn near ripped me a new one, almost held me up on the wall by my throat, and informed me in no uncertain terms the next time I wanted to take Vic out on a date, we had to take Maddie with us.' Teddy paused meaningfully. 'As a chaperone!' he exclaimed in disgust. 'And you know how Bill talks when he's really angry. He gets all quiet. Like Ginny.' Teddy shuddered. 'He also told me he'd rip my balls off and have them for dinner next full moon.' Teddy raised his eyes to meet Harry's. 'What is it about Weasleys and threatening your anatomy?' he asked in exasperation.
'That, Teddy, is a question I've been trying to answer for nearly twenty years. If you do find out why, let me know, will you?'
'Yeah, I'll do that,' Teddy grumbled darkly.
'Coming over for dinner tonight?'
'Do you want to see your only godson die of food poisoning?'
'See you at six-thirty, then.'
Teddy walked out grinning.
Harry slid off the desk and slumped into the chair Teddy just vacated.
One question kept chasing through his mind in endless circles: How was he going to get Draco-Sodding-Malfoy to submit to Legilimency without blocking him out?
SEVENTEEN -- Dark Corners
The young man looked around the dark street, before ducking inside the Three Broomsticks. 'Ta, Rosmerta,' he said, with a cheeky grin. 'Could you send me a butterbeer?' He flipped a couple of Sickles onto the bar, then sat at a table that faced the door, keeping his back firmly to the wall. He settled back in his chair, taking a magazine out of his jacket pocket. It was more of a prop, as the young man held it open in front of him to keep people from trying to engage him in conversation, than to read about new ways to transfigure live animals. 'Thanks, Rosmerta,' he said when she brought his butterbeer.
'Alone tonight?' Rosmerta asked, setting the drink on the table.
'Yeah.' He took a sip of his drink, eyes flickering imperceptibly toward the door. An older man with grizzled black hair, wearing a traveling cloak, with the hood pulled over his head, limped into the pub, and painfully lowered himself into a chair at a table next to the younger man.
The older man looked up at Rosmerta. 'Firewhisky, and leave the bottle,' he growled, pushing several Galleons toward her. 'The good stuff, not the swill.' Rosmerta left and the man pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head.
The younger man looked down at his magazine. He picked up his butterbeer, and under the cover of taking a sip, murmured, 'Potter talked to Lupin today.'
'So?' The older man's lips barely moved, but his voice carried to the younger man through the hubbub of the busy pub.
'Why would an Auror want to talk to an Obliviator?'
The older man snorted sardonically. 'You're a fool.' He scanned the crowed in the pub. The younger man's shoulders hunched irritably. 'Potter's the mongrel's godfather. Furthermore, the mongrel's dating Potter's niece. It wouldn't be unusual for them to talk.'
The younger man took a long, slow swallow of his drink. 'But it makes the perfect cover, you see. Nobody would suspect anything,' he softly insisted.
'How much would the mongrel know? He's only been doing this for two years.' The older man tossed back the whisky in his glass.
The younger man drained his butterbeer. 'You're the fool if you underestimate Lupin.' He set the bottle down hard, and left a handful of Knuts on the table for Rosmerta's tip and left.
Teddy rubbed his eyes and pillowed his head on his folded arms. He turned his head to the side, grey eyes fixed on the map. It had been fairly quiet for the past several weeks. Just the normal events to Obliviate: dragon sightings in Wales, young Muggle-borns who had lost control of their magic and turned the family dog blue or purple at a play park. There hadn't been any Muggle-baiting since a few days after his talk with Harry.
Teddy hated the overnight shift. Everybody rotated between a week on the early shift, a week on the middle shift, and a week on the overnight shift. Then one week off. Teddy supposed it was only fair. That way, all the new Obliviators didn't get stuck working the overnight shift all the time.
It wasn't the hours that bothered Teddy. He was grateful he wasn't Siobhan, though. She had a two-year old at home, and the overnight weeks were hard on her and her husband. No, what bothered Teddy was the time he had to think. And what he mostly thought about in the twilight glow of the Obliviator office was his parents.
To Teddy, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin were an abstract idea. They weren't even as real as the Hogwarts ghosts. He had photographs of them, and he knew all kinds of stories about them. He even had the journals his father faithfully kept from the time he left school until the night he died. Teddy even had the letters they wrote to him the night they died. His mother's had been folded around a few photographs of Teddy with his parents. His father's had been tucked into the last journal. Andromeda had saved all of them. The photographs and been framed, and the letters saved for when Teddy was "older". The journals had been packed away in the attic, and seemingly forgotten, until Teddy found them one summer afternoon in a fit of ennui.
Teddy had gone through a phase his fourth year where he obsessively asked everyone he knew for information about his mum and dad. He had spent hours when he wasn't in class, sitting in the corridor where the memorial wall was located, sitting across from it, looking at his parents' likenesses.
He alternated between intense longing to be able to see them, talk to them, even hug them and intense guilt because he felt at times Harry and Ginny were his real parents. There were moments, especially early in the morning in the liminal time between night and day, where Teddy felt something brush across his hair. He fancied it was his mother's caress, something he might have remembered from his babyhood, if he could. He also could feel someone, or something, staring at him, right between his shoulder blades. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. But he wasn't afraid. He did spin sharply around each time, thinking there was a person standing there, but the corridor was always empty.
His fifth year, he seemed to feel perpetual rage, just simmering under the surface. Rage directed impotently at his parents for leaving him. At the Christmas holiday that year, Harry had taken him out to the woods behind his house to a small clearing. Harry had expertly cast several nonverbal charms, and sat on a fallen tree.
'Scream,' he had said simply. 'Nobody will hear you.' And scream he did. Teddy screamed until he was hoarse, and his throat felt raw and bruised. He had also kicked several tree trunks for good measure, thanking Merlin that he had worn his heavy boots, and only bruised his toes, and not broken any of them. Eventually, Teddy collapsed on the tree trunk next to Harry, who hadn't said a word, panting for breath. It was only then that Teddy realized he'd been crying when he felt the cold wind stream over his sore cheeks. Harry hadn't said anything other than, 'Let's go back to the house for something warm to drink, eh? I think Molly's sent some biscuits over, too.'
Teddy felt drained, emotionally and physically. Ginny had taken the little ones to Diagon Alley to do some Christmas shopping, so the house was empty. Harry steered him into a chair at the kitchen table, and set a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him. Harry sat across from him with a cup of his own, and patiently sipped his hot chocolate, waiting for Teddy to talk. Teddy wrapped his hands around the cup, and stared into the cup. 'Drink it. It'll help.' Harry motioned toward the cup. A wistful smile flitted across Harry's face. 'That was almost the first thing your dad said to me. I met him on the train to school my third year.'
Teddy rubbed the sleeve of his jumper under his nose, and mulishly eyed the hot chocolate. He brought the cup under his nose and inhaled the aroma, closing his eyes with pleasure. He took a tentative sip and a blissful smile spread over his face. Something in the back of his mind fell into place. Chocolate was something he had always gravitated toward. He supposed he came by it honestly. Remus talked about chocolate with a reverence he only showed to one other thing.
Dora.
Mum.
Horrified, Teddy felt fat tears roll down his cheeks. Harry still said nothing, but conjured a handkerchief and silently passed it to Teddy. Teddy swiped the handkerchief over his face and sniffed a few times. 'I hate that they're gone,' he croaked. 'And sometimes, I hate that it's you sitting here and not my dad.' Teddy gazed out the window, eyes fixed on the snowman James built the day before. He took a few sips of his hot chocolate, not daring to look at Harry. The idea of putting pain into his godfather's eyes, made Teddy well up with tears again. 'Is it wrong of me to feel like you and Ginny are my mum and dad?' Teddy said helplessly.
Teddy waited for what seemed like an eternity before he heard Harry's shaky, 'No.' Teddy turned his head to look at Harry. Harry was staring into his cup, tracing the rim with a fingertip. 'You're still their son, Ted, but Ginny and I couldn't love you more than if we'd given birth to you.' Harry swallowed heavily a few times. 'I saw him. After he died.' Harry's mouth snapped shut.
'Who?' Teddy's forehead creased in a perplexed frown. 'Dad? How?' he asked hungrily.
'It was a sort of Priori Incantatum.' Harry sighed. 'He was sorry. That he wouldn't be able to watch you grow up. That he hoped one day you would be able to understand why he fought and why he died. He did love you, so much. And having you made him happier than I'd ever seen him.' Harry closed his eyes, against the sting of tears. It still hurt even more than fifteen years later.
Breathing deeply, Harry opened his eyes, and looked at his godson. 'It's all right to be angry. But don't be angry at them. Be angry at the ideas that made that war happen. And make damn sure you don't forget it, so it won't happen again.'
'Were you ever angry at your parents?'
Harry leaned back, staring at the ceiling. 'No. It was different for me, though. I didn't know anything about them until I was eleven. But I never got angry at the fact they'd died until I was your age. When Sirius died. I almost destroyed Dumbledore's office that morning.' He took a meditative sip of his drink. 'And afterward, it just felt numb.' Harry reached across the table and knowing Teddy was almost too old for this, but needing to do it anyway, he ran his hand over Teddy's hair. 'It was different for me, though. I never knew anything about my parents until I was in school. I didn't get to miss them until much, much later.'
Teddy rolled over onto his back, one eye on the map. A flash of red, caught his attention, and he sat up. There was an incident in Inverness. He noted the weariness on Siobhan's face as she lifted her head to peer at the map. 'I'll go,' he said quietly, anxious to leave his thoughts behind.
'Are ye sure?' she asked, uncertainty marring her normally cheerful features. 'Ye did the last one, too.'
'Yeah, I'm sure.' Teddy got to his feet and went to the map, tapping the flashing red light with his wand. The exact location glowed over the light, and Teddy memorized it, knowing he would need to Apparate.
'Ye're a good man, then, Teddy Lupin,' Siobhan murmured sleepily, as she stretched out on a battered sofa. 'Too good for the likes o' most o' the girls out there.' Her Irish lilt broadened as she drifted off to sleep.
Teddy grabbed his jacket and left the room, grateful when his shift was over, his week off started and he wouldn't have to think about this place for another week.
Al set up his cauldron for Potions, glancing at the board for the ingredients they would need for the day. It was going to be a simple Forgetfulness Potion -- something they had mastered last year, but it looked like Professor Williams was going to see how much they had forgotten over the summer. Al had often heard his parents, aunts, and uncles speak of the person who'd been their Potions professor, Severus Snape, and even though it was obvious Professor Snape was a gifted potions-maker, it seemed his teaching methods left something to be desired. And Al was willing to bet his Comet 1250 that Professor Snape would not have let Scorpius get away with his soft whistling.
Al tilted his head to the side, trying to get a good listen to the tune. Scorpius had just started idly whistling when Professor Williams walked into the dungeon. Williams had just started his round about the room, checking to make sure everyone had the proper ingredients out before they began brewing the potion when Al realized what the song was. It happened to be the same moment Professor Williams stopped by the table where he and Scorpius sat. Al tried to choke back a laugh, but started coughing instead. 'All right?' Scorpius stopped whistling, and patted Al on the back.
'Yeah, fine.' Al glanced at Scorpius, who had resumed his serene whistling. Professor Williams was giving instructions in that deep, reverberating voice of his and he also wore his usual school day robes of black -- because black hid all kinds of potions ingredient stains. Al swore he saw Professor Williams' eyes flick in their direction, and a corner of his mouth quirk up in a sort of grin.
Scorpius was whistling the Darth Vader theme from the Star Wars movies.
When Williams came by to check the status of their potions, he gave Scorpius a slightly pained look, and asked, 'Am I that bad?' before going to the next table.
Scorpius' mouth dropped open, and he looked at Al in surprise. 'How does he know that?' Scorpius asked, clearly mortified.
'No idea,' replied Al. 'But I wonder if --' Whatever Al was going to say was cut off by a shrivelfig smacking into the side of Scorpius' head with a sticky splat. Al's head swiveled and he turned to see Geoffery Greengrass smirking at them from the table behind theirs. 'Oi! Greengrass!' Al hissed. 'You already had a taste of what Rose can do, and she's a girl. Do that again, and you'll have to answer to Fred, Jacob, James, and me,' he warned. Al was gratified to see Geoffery' insolent smile slip a few notches. Jacob was one of the Gryffindor Beaters and Fred played Keeper and over the summer, they had packed on a few pounds of muscle. And everyone knew that even though publicly, James took great pleasure in teasing him, James and Al would fight side-by-side to the death, or until a teacher pulled them off the poor sod who dared to poke fun at the Weasley-Potter brood. And Rose had pummeled Geoffrey so badly last year that he had had to go to the hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey. Evidently, the idea of facing four boys, who could do what Rose could and so much more made Geoffery a bit nervous. He swallowed audibly, and looked around to see if anyone else had overheard Al refer to the fact that Geoffery had in fact, been beaten up by a girl.
Scorpius was wiping the shrivelfig sap from his face with the edge of his robes. 'You don't have to do that,' he said reproachfully.
'Yes, I do,' Al insisted.
Scorpius hunched his shoulders miserably. He picked at a hangnail on his thumb, making it bleed. 'He's not worth losing House points over,' Scorpius pointed out logically. He knew it was useless to say so. When it came to the Potter boys, sense was often the loser in the face of sensibility.
'No, he's not, the manky git,' Al agreed. 'But you are,' he added.
The rest of the class passed without incident. The students bottled samples of the potions and left them on Professor Williams' desk, and tidied their areas, cleaning up spare ingredients, washing out cauldrons and ladles, and packed their schoolbags. Al, Scorpius, and Rose were about to sling their bags over their shoulders and head up to Charms when they heard Professor Williams' deep voice summon Geoffery. As a single entity, they all found something to dawdle over. Al's shoelaces had inexplicably come untied; Rose seemed to forget if she had spare quills; and Scorpius "accidentally" spilled the bottle of ink on the edge of Professor Williams' desk.
Professor Williams hid a smile at the three of them, and turned his wrath on Geoffery, who lounged impudently on the edge of a table. 'Twenty points from Slytherin, Greengrass,' he stated flatly. Geoffery slid off the table and started to leave the dungeon. 'I'm not finished with you,' Professor Williams continued, still in that deathly quiet voice that held all the lethalness of an Unforgivable. 'Detention. With me for a week. Then a week with Professor Longbottom. Then a week with Hagrid. Then two weeks with the house-elves,' he finished with a malicious gleam in his eye. 'And don't even think about writing to your parents. You've continually broken class and school rules for over a year. And it stops. Now.' To Al, Rose, and Scorpius, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. They exchanged way glances and tiptoed from the dungeon, breaking into a run once they hit the corridor.
'Did you see the look on that great prat's face when Williams mentioned Hagrid?' chortled Al.
'Or the house-elves?' added Scorpius. 'Oh, Rosie, your mum will nail Geoffery to the wall if he looks at one of them the wrong way.' He bent over in silent laughter, his shoulders shaking. He stopped to catch his breath, panting.
'Come on, you two. We'll be late for Charms.' Rose tugged at their sleeves.
'It'll be worth it, though,' sighed Al happily.
After dinner that night, Maddie cornered them in the common room. 'Is it true?' she demanded.
'Is what true?' Scorpius retorted.
'That Greengrass got five solid weeks of detention from Williams today.'
'Oh, that,' said Al dismissively.
'Yeah, that.'
'It's true,' piped up Rose. 'Two weeks with the house-elves, too.' A slightly diabolical look came into Rose's eyes. Greengrass felt he was above most people anyway, so some time being ordered about by the school elves justice in Rose's eyes.
'It's all over the school,' Maddie gloated. 'I heard it from Parker at dinner. He heard it from someone in his Care of Magical Creatures class. Izzy said Neville got the note in her Herbology class, and let it "slip", like he was talking to himself, planning the detentions.'
'I hope he gets a Howler,' muttered James darkly.
Rose, Al, and Scorpius shared a satisfied smile.
So far this was turning out to be a very good year.
Scorpius stood on the edge of the Quidditch pitch next to Al. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked.
'Why wouldn't I?' Al held his broom loosely in one hand.
'I mean it's fun to play with your family, just for kicks and giggles,' Scorpius argued. 'But this...' He gestured to the stands, where several Gryffindors, second year and above waited patiently. Isabella was the team captain this year, taking over for Victoire, and she needed to replace a Beater, a Chaser, and the Seeker, as well as fill out the Reserve positions.
Al snorted. 'It's practically playing with the family anyway. Fred, Jacob, James, and Izzy are already on the team. It's a good bet that Maddie'll be one of the Chasers. Rosie might get on the team. She really wants to be Keeper, and Izzy might try to sweet-talk Fred into playing Beater, 'cause Rosie's a hell of a Keeper. Better than Uncle Ron ever was.'
'What is it about your family and Quidditch?' Scorpius asked amazed. 'Are you all born with Snitches in your hands?'
Al laughed. 'If you hear my mum talk, we were. She said Dad would explain the rules of Quidditch while she was pregnant, and we'd kick so much it would keep her awake.'
'Al!' shouted Isabella. 'You're up!'
'See you in a bit.' Al mounted his broom, and before he could get off the ground, Isabella Banished a Muggle golf ball at him. It headed straight for Scorpius' head. Before Scorpius could blink, Al's hand shot out, and closed around the ball. He hadn't even looked. Isabella kept tossing the golf balls at Al, and he kept catching them. He even caught one while he was hanging from his broom from one ankle and hand. He even executed a textbook sloth roll while he caught one of the golf balls.
Al lazily flew around the pitch. During some of the more quiet moments over the summer, Harry talked about flying, and how it made him feel. How it had been the most natural thing in the world to him. How when he was on a broom, he left everything behind -- the stress of classes, Riddle. Al had an idea of what his father meant. It was different up here. Up here it was just him and the Snitch.
'Al!' Isabella's magically amplified voice reached his ears. 'Al, come down!'
Al blinked a few times. He looked around the pitch, startled to see the stands had emptied, and only a handful of people remained. He could make out Scorpius' pale hair glimmering in the shadows and James' dark head, an island in a sea of shimmering reds. Al steered the Comet down to the grass and landed lightly next to Isabella. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. 'Was enjoying the ride.'
'It's a good thing you went last,' Isabella informed him. 'After that performance, you would have discouraged everyone else.' She consulted a clipboard in her hands. 'All right, then. James, Maddie, and I will play Chaser, Fred has graciously switched to play Beater with Jacob, and Rosie will take over as Keeper.' Isabella gave Fred an apologetic shrug. 'She did beat you, Fred.'
'Ah, no worries. Not like I'm going to play professionally.' Fred gave Rose a good-natured shove. 'Thank Merlin it won't be that ponce MacLaggan.' He fixed Rose with a stern gaze. 'Now then, Rosie, see to it that you keep up our winning record against Hufflepuff.' Fred grinned at his cousins. 'Friendly bet with Parker, mind you.'
'And that leaves us with Al as the Seeker.'
James frowned. 'Izzy... Won't it look odd? Seeing as we're all family? Won't someone go whinging to Neville it's nepotism?'
Isabella let out an unladylike snort. 'Not bloody likely. He was here for the tryouts to keep an eye out for that. I ran the list by him before the Seeker tryouts. Very conspicuously, I might add.' She shrunk the clipboard and stuffed it into a pocket of her jeans. 'Look, we've all been playing since we were old enough to ride a toy broom just about. We play every Sunday over the summer. With our parents, I might add, who weren't exactly slouches at the game, either. We even played in every kind of weather you can imagine before we came to school on Sundays, too.' She fixed them all with a beady expression. 'We're the best-trained group of school-age players in Britain,' she finished impassionedly.
'Bravo, Izzy,' said Rosie.
'Now, then. I'll keep tabs on you with the teachers about your grades. If I hear you're letting your grades or homework slip, you're on probation. Hear me?'
They all nodded, murmuring assent. It was the same system Victoire had employed. They were expected to earn at least five O.W.L.s when the time came. Rose, James, and Al exchanged looks. It was especially important to their parents, seeing as Harry and Ron had never taken their N.E.W.T.s.
They meandered back to the castle, reveling in the last of the sun's warmth, as it set. Scorpius nudged Al. 'You were brilliant, mate.'
Al shrugged, blushing. 'Just practice.'
'Hey, who's that?' Jacob shaded his eyes, and squinted at the steps leading to the doors of the castle.
'It's Dad.' James looked at Al. 'Did you get some sort of nasty detention?'
'No. Did you?'
James shook his head. 'Wonder why he's here?' He froze. 'Y'don't think something's happened to Mum or Lily, do you? Or Teddy?'
'Nah,' scoffed Al. 'He'd have come down to the pitch.'
'And if it was Granddad or Grandmum, they'd all be here,' added Rose.
Al broke into a loping run. 'Hiya, Dad!' he called. 'Miss the food here?' he asked jokingly.
'Yep. I haven't had a good Hogwarts' dinner in ages.' Harry reached out to ruffle Al's hair. 'Actually, I'm here to see Gareth -- uh, Professor Shacklebolt.' Harry made a slight face. Formalities weren't his strong suit. 'Your mum's at a Harpies team reunion or something or other.'
'Guess what, Dad?' Al realized he could share his news in person. 'I'm the Gryffindor Seeker!'
'That's fantastic, Al. Still Chasing, James?'
'Yeah,' James said, grinning. 'Rosie here is going to Keep.'
'Is there anybody on the team who isn't a Potter or Weasley?' Harry asked ruefully.
'Not this year, Uncle Harry,' Isabella said cheekily. 'We've got a stranglehold on the team for a while.'
'Minerva's going to be glad when you lot finally get out of her hair.' Harry shook his head. 'I'm going to go talk to Gareth and Rafa for a bit. I'll sit with you at dinner. Is that okay, or should I join the other adults at the staff table?'
They exchanged glances and shrugs. 'I suppose,' James said slowly. 'As long as you don't try to do any of that mushy stuff.'
'I promise,' Harry vowed solemnly. He watched the brood troop up the stairs to clean up for dinner, then turned down a corridor and stood in front of the staffroom door. He tapped his wand on the doorknob and it opened for him. 'Thanks, Minerva,' he said, walking into the room, and sinking down on a sofa. 'I didn't feel comfortable having this conversation at the Ministry.'
'Surely it's not as bad as all that?' McGonagall asked with a worried frown.
'Oh, no.' Harry waved off her concern. 'I just need to ask a few questions away from prying eyes.' Harry looked at Gareth and Rafa. 'I need to perform Legilimency on a skilled Occlumens. And I need someone to help me.'
'When?' Rafa's dark, liquid eyes creased.
'January. And if that doesn't work, I'll need someone to Stun him, so we can use a Pensieve to read his memory.'
'That's rather extreme, isn't it, Harry?' asked Gareth, concern plainly written on his face.
'Yes, but this is a former Death Eater.' Harry explained. 'And someone's using Muggle-baiting as a recreational activity. I need to find out who the ringleader is.'
'Why us?' Rafa asked. 'The Ministry's full of people who could help with that.'
'True. But they don't have your kind of training. This particular wizard is going to look for traditional Legilimency. Or at least the kind he was taught.' Harry shoved his glasses up his nose and rubbed his gritty eyes. 'Your school in San Francisco does something different. Even I can't block you out completely.' Harry saw Rafa and Gareth exchange worried glances, before Rafa gave Gareth a half-shrug, and Gareth nodded in seeming agreement. Harry bit his lip to cover a wry grin. It was a nonverbal conversation he and Ginny had often had in front of the children.
'We'll do it.' Gareth spoke with a resigned finality.
Harry slumped in relief. 'Thanks.'
EIGHTEEN -- Battle Scars and Souvenirs
Ginny walked through the kitchen with a sigh, removing her shoes as she walked toward the stairs, blissfully wiggling her toes. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early. Barely nine-thirty. Ginny hated formal occasions almost as much as Harry did. She went to events hosted by the Prophet or the Ministry because she had to. She could think of a thousand other things she could do with her evening, besides putting on a fancy dress and high heels, and doing something with her hair. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, and reached for the small zipper tab between her shoulder blades, contorting and struggling to get the zipper down, nearly roaring in frustration when it wouldn't budge. 'Need some help with that?' Harry appeared behind her suddenly, as if he'd Apprarated, his hands sliding up to her shoulders. He found the hidden zipper tab and slowly pulled it down to her waist.
'Thanks.' Ginny sagged back against Harry's chest, taking the first deep breath of the evening. 'I forget how intense it all gets.'
Harry's hands skimmed back up to her shoulders, and began to lightly soothe the knots that bunched her muscles into an agony of tension. 'What was it this time?'
'The "my-kid-can-make-a-goal-blindfolded-and-he's-still-in-nappies" kind of rubbish.' She turned around to face him. 'Was I ever that competitive?'
'Yes,' Harry replied promptly. He kissed the tip of her nose. 'But only about Quidditch and only about how you play it.'
'They gave me a headache,' Ginny moaned softly.
'Massage and some tea?' Harry suggested.
'Bath, bottle of wine, and a massage,' Ginny countered. She cocked her head to one side, listening for something. 'Where's Lily?'
'Ron and Hermione's. We're going to take Hugo next weekend.'
Ginny nodded. 'Fine.' She smiled up at Harry. 'I'll run the bath, you get the wine?'
'Deal.'
Ginny trudged up the stairs to their bedroom and went into the bathroom. She turned on the taps, and went back into the bedroom. She shimmied out of the dress, leaving it in a heap in the bedroom floor. She stripped off the fancy underwear such a dress seemed to require with a grimace, and dropped it on top of the dress. Ginny caught a glimpse of herself in the cheval mirror in the corner. Ginny turned to face the mirror and methodically examined her naked body. She wasn't normally critical about the way she looked, nor was she particularly vain. It wasn't like she had let herself go, but spending several hours in the company of witches at least ten years younger had not done wonders for her body image. She wasn't sure what bothered her more -- the fact that she was frowning at the marks childbirth had left on her body, or that she was letting the younger witches and their seemingly perfect bodies get to her. She started to idly trace the silvery marks left on her body from three pregnancies. 'Those are battle scars, you know.' Harry leaned against the doorway, a bottle of wine, and two glasses dangling from one hand.
'Battle scars?'
'I've watched you give birth, Gin. You almost tore my head off when I delivered Lily.' He came to stand behind her. 'Battle scars,' he repeated softly, kissing her bare shoulder. Harry wrapped his free arm around her waist. 'You're still the most beautiful woman in the world, Ginevra.'
'Don't call me Ginevra.' It was an automatic response, said without heat or censure. She pulled the pins from her hair, letting it cascade down her back.
'What brought this on, love?'
Ginny shrugged. 'I dunno. Just being around all those women. If they're not going on and on about their precious sprog's accomplishments, they're going on and on about how they can still wear their game kit.' She made a face in the mirror. 'I don't think I could even squeeze my arse into the trousers if I wanted to. And don't say it!'
'Say what?' Harry set the bottle and glasses on a small table.
'The "you've had three babies, so of course your body's different" spiel,' she grumbled.
Harry unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on top of Ginny's discarded clothing. He pushed his jeans off and kicked them off to join the rest of the clothes. 'Well, that is what I was going to say, but none of us look like we did when we were eighteen.' He stood next to Ginny and wriggled out of his boxers. Harry ran a hand over his middle. 'Well?'
'Well, what?'
Harry ruffled his hair. 'Getting grey around the edges. Got some pudge that definitely wasn't there when we got married.' He traced the oval-shaped scar over his heart. 'Battle scars of my own.' He looked at Ginny. 'Turned off yet?'
'No. I'm not.'
'Good.' Harry cupped the back of Ginny's head, tilted her face up, and kissed her. 'Come on, then. We have a completely kid-free house, and a hot bath waiting. Don't want to waste it.' He picked up the wine and the glasses. 'I went to Hogwarts earlier.'
Ginny followed him into the bathroom and slipped into the tub with a sigh. 'Why? Something happen to one of the boys?' Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'What did James do?' she asked, accepting the wine Harry handed her.
'No, everything's fine,' Harry assured her as he picked up his own wineglass and stepped into the tub, facing Ginny. 'Quidditch tryouts today, though.'
'Oh, that's right!' Ginny's face lit up. 'How did they go?' Al had sent an owl to them last week saying he was going to go for the open Seeker position.
'James is still one of the Chasers, and Al's the new Seeker. Rosie's Keeping, and Fred moved to Beater with Jacob. Maddie made the team as a Chaser this year, so she's not on the Reserves anymore, and Izzy's the Captain and last Chaser.'
'Neville must really enjoy that trophy in his office. Getting to be as rabid as Minerva was about it,' Ginny mused. 'Scorpius try out?'
'Nope.' Harry shook his head. 'I asked, but he said he just likes to play the pickup games with the kids instead.'
Ginny whistled softly. 'If we thought his father was unhappy with him last year...' She took a sip of her wine. 'You didn't go up strictly to watch the tryouts, though.'
'No. I went to talk to Gareth and Rafa.' Harry tilted his wineglass and let a swallow slide down his throat, humming in pleasure as it warmed a path down to his stomach.'
'Are they going to help you with Malfoy?'
'Yeah. He won't be expecting Gareth in my office, nor will he be expecting the way Rafa can do Legilimency.'
'Isn't that a bit extreme?' Ginny queried, faintly anxious.
'Yes, but so is Muggle-baiting,' he replied grimly.
'Harry, why are you starting with the people on your list? Even though you don't have reason to suspect Malfoy isn't involved, at the very least.'
'I need proof. I need proof they're not involved as much as I need proof if they are involved,' Harry said flatly. 'It's part of their probation that we can do this sort of thing to either clear them or put them back in Azkaban.'
'Kingsley's all right with this?'
Harry blew out an explosive breath. 'He's about as chuffed as I am about stooping to these kinds of tactics.' He shifted, sinking lower into the foamy water. 'I hate my job right now,' he muttered.
Ginny carefully set her wineglass on the edge of the tub. She scooted to Harry's end, sitting with her knees drawn up, between his legs. 'Harry you've always tried to do the moral and ethical thing when it comes to solving a case. But even you've said you have to think like they do sometimes.'
'It doesn't make it right,' Harry told her, his face set in stubborn lines.
'Stop sulking,' Ginny lightly admonished, flicking water in Harry's face.
'I'm not sulking,' he protested, wiping water from his nose.
'Please. You look just like James when he's being fussed at by one of us.' Harry leaned his head against the back of the tub, squinting slightly at the charmed ceiling. 'Harry, look at me.' He obstinately kept his eyes glued to the starry ceiling. 'Harry James Potter, look at me.' The faint steel sharpened in Ginny's voice.
Harry's eyes met Ginny's. 'What?'
'You've done this for twenty years. And even you've admitted it helps to be able to think like them.'
'I've never had to act like they do. Forcibly look in someone else's mind just because of what they did twenty years ago.'
Ginny reached back for her wine and downed what remained the glass. 'You're not just going to do it without their knowledge, are you?'
Harry shook his head. 'No. They'll be aware of what we're doing and why. It's what we'll have to do if they resist that makes me nauseated. Even though I have the right to do it.'
'It's what you do and how you do it that matters, Harry,' she said gently.
'And that's what makes me different,' he said sardonically.
'You wouldn't do anything like this unless you had a good reason.'
'And the proper paperwork,' Harry snorted ironically. 'Between Percy and Hermione, I've got more legal precedent than I can Vanish.' Harry looked at Ginny, searching her face. He knew she wasn't just trying to cheer him up. Eighteen years of marriage had taught him that much. Ginny wasn't one for empty platitudes -- neither giving, nor receiving them. If she said something, she meant it.
He mentally shook himself. Not tonight. He wasn't going to bring it home tonight.
Harry reached over the side of the tub for the bottle of wine. 'Your glass is empty,' he informed Ginny, refilling both of their glasses.
'Trying to get me plastered, are you?'
'Nope. Just loose enough to persuade you into trying the massage oil George sent last week.' Harry waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was a lecherous manner.
'You mean the one that changes its scent based on your mood?'
'Mmmm-hmmmm.' Harry nonchalantly swirled the wine in his glass.
'That hasn't been put out yet.'
Harry leaned forward and nipped Ginny's lower lip. 'We're testing it. He wants to have it ready for the Wonder Witch line for the holidays.'
'It won't leave boils anywhere will it?' Ginny asked warily.
'Nah. George would never let me try something that will result in your hexing his testicles into oblivion.'
'Smart man,' Ginny agreed. 'And you get this enormous privilege how?'
'I still own twenty percent of the shop,' Harry said smugly. 'George and Ron refuse to buy me out. George says he still owes me for fronting the initial investment.'
Ginny rose to her feet and stood in front of Harry, water dripping from the planes and hollows of her body. 'House to ourselves, potentially smashing massage oil... Why are we still in here?'
'No idea.'
Draco pulled a letter from his shirt pocket. He had asked the house-elf to sneak it from the box where Daphne kept the letters from Scorpius and bring it to him. He re-read the most recent letter Scorpius had sent to Daphne from school. He tried -- and failed -- to find the same sense of detachment his father would have had.
Oh, yes. Draco Malfoy could still feel something for his son. But it wasn't something he could name. He looked down at the letter, confused. Draco knew Scorpius enjoyed playing Quidditch with his... Friends. Thinking of them by their names left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. But to not even try out...
Draco set the letter down and started into the flames of the fireplace in his study. He honestly couldn't blame Scorpius for only playing recreationally. Draco had hated playing for the House team and had sometimes faked an injury to avoid playing. He only played to please Lucius, who expected it of him.
Draco picked up his glass of Firewhisky and an old photograph of Scorpius at the age of eight or nine. He was industriously pruning lavender in the late summer sunshine. Even at that early age, if not earlier, Scorpius did what he wanted. Draco wondered if Scorpius was happier for it. Sometimes, late at night, when he'd drunk too much whisky, Draco wondered how different his life would be if he'd been a fraction as audacious as his son.
He wouldn't have that damned Mark on his arm, branding him as a traitor for the rest of his life. Draco painfully recalled the night Scorpius saw it. He poured another glass of whisky, noticing his hand trembled slightly. Draco tossed back the contents of his glass in a one gulp.
He took a deep breath and reached for the cufflink on his left sleeve. Slowly releasing the breath that threatened to strangle him, Draco slid the cufflink from his cuff and slowly rolled the sleeve past his elbow. Draco looked down at his forearm, alabaster-pale and sparsely dusted with fine, white-blonde hair. He steeled himself and slowly turned his arm over, forcing himself to look at it.
Draco had never really examined it closely. Until now. He felt his gorge rise, and his right hand closed around the bottle on the low table next to him, and took a large swallow, without bothering with the heavy-bottomed crystal glass. He remembered the night he received the Mark from Lord Voldemort. It had hurt like nothing he had ever known before. It seemed to set every nerve ending on fire. He recalled the shameful tears that fell silently down his face to the taunting jeers of his aunt Bellatrix. When he was really drunk, Draco considered sending Molly Weasley a thank-you note for killing Bellatrix. He had hated Bellatrix almost as much as he hated Potter. Dear Auntie Bella, with her nose shoved up Voldie's arse, he snorted.
He hadn't looked at the Mark that night, either.
For more than twenty years, Draco avoided looking at it. He managed to bathe, dress, and even, on those rare occasions before Scorpius was born, have sex with his wife without looking at it.
He hated the Mark and what it had done to his life.
Draco drank another large swallow of whisky. He let himself wonder how it might have been different if he'd allowed the Order of the Phoenix to hide him and his mother.
It galled Draco now to remember. Dumbledore was dying anyway, and would have died with or without Draco's help. He remembered the lengths to which Snape would go to protect the students at school his seventh year. Especially the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors without giving it away to the Death Eaters on the staff that year.
Draco wanted to apologize. To Rosmerta. To Katie Bell -- no, Katie Weasley, now. Even Goyle. For getting them mixed up in it all. He even found himself wanting to apologize to Ron Weasley for the poisoned mead incident. He had been secretly relieved when word spread that Potter managed to use a bezoar and saved Weasley's life. Draco lifted the bottle to his lips and the level of whisky dropped by several inches.
He knew he was drunk. He only wanted to apologize to them all when he was drunk.
It was the whisky talking, he tried to convince himself. Draco traced the Mark slowly, like Scorpius had done that night.
The Mark was faded. Its once-stark black lines now a washed-out grey.
No wonder his own son didn't respect him.
How could Scorpius respect him when it was obvious Draco despised his own life?
Draco looked at the mantle over the fireplace. A portrait of his father hung there. He often wondered why he left it there, allowing his father to watch him drink himself into a stupor on more occasions than he wanted to count. Then again, after the war, Lucius had done the same thing on more than one night. Most people thought the sentence in Azkaban and the war were what had broken Lucius. True, he had been broken by those years, but it was the aftermath that shattered him. The nights locked in a room in the Nice villa, drinking cheap wine or whisky. By then, Lucius hadn't cared.
Draco saluted the image of his father, who gazed down dispassionately at his son, with the nearly-empty bottle of whisky. He drained the bottle, grimacing as it settled in his already-churning stomach and burned.
The empty whisky bottle fell from Draco's limp fingers and rolled across the rug. His head lolled to the side and his eyes closed to slits, watching the dancing flames.
In a matter of minutes, Draco's eyes closed and he began to snore softly.
The fire flared for a moment, and illuminated the faded Mark on his arm, making it seem as crisp as the day it had been burned into his flesh.
NINETEEN -- Twisted
Daphne repressed a sigh and draped the serviette over her lap. She hated it when it was just her and Draco in the house. It was too quiet. Granted, dinners were always quiet in that muted formality with which Draco had grown up. Daphne's upbringing, while nominally "correct" had been in a warmer environment than this mausoleum she had called home for the past fifteen years. She wished, not for the first time since September first, that Scorpius or Narcissa were here -- if for nothing else than to have another person at dinner besides her stonily silent husband. She picked up her soup spoon and skimmed it over the surface of the creamy bisque in front of her.
The only sounds were the muted clink of spoons on china and the muffled thump of a wine or water glass landing on the thick linen tablecloth. She was able to tune it all out, so the sound of Draco clearing his throat startled her so she nearly dropped her spoon. The handle clattered against the rim of the bowl in front of her. Her eyes darted in his direction. Draco almost never spoke at dinner. 'I was thinking,' he began, tracing patterns into the top of his soup with his spoon. 'Maybe we could stay here for Christmas this year. I don't feel up to trying to deal with International Portkeys.' He took a hasty bite of his soup. The real reason hung in the air unspoken. He didn't feel like dealing with the Ministry.
Daphne picked up her water glass. Her tongue suddenly felt as if it were glued to the roof of her mouth. 'All right.'
'I'll owl Mother in the morning. Perhaps she'll come here. It would be just the thr---four of us.'
Daphne just nodded. She would send an owl to Scorpius after dinner to let him know he needed to come home on the train and she would pick him up at the station. She was pleased that Scorpius would spend the holiday with them. She had missed him terribly last Christmas, and it had given her a pang to know he had probably had a better time at the Potters' than he had ever had at home. She vowed to send a letter of her own to Narcissa. Christmases tended to be tense affairs in the Malfoy household. Maybe this one could be different.
Scorpius folded the most recent letter from his mother into a small square and sighed and stuffing it into his schoolbag. The only saving grace to the disaster that was going to be his Christmas holiday was that his grandmother was coming to England from France. At least that meant they might be able to slip away from the mansion and go see Andromeda and Teddy. Maybe on Boxing Day. He could ask Narcissa when he got home. Scorpius didn't see her saying no.
Still, his mother had promised it would just be the immediate family this year. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he could talk his mother and grandmother into decorating the tree, instead of the house-elf.
At least it would only be two weeks. Last summer had been nearly intolerable. Only the weekend at the Potters' and going to Andromeda's once a week for tea on Saturday afternoons had made his summer into something approaching bearable. Scorpius tightened his scarlet-and-gold scarf around his neck and went to watch the end of the Gryffindor team practice with Parker, Sophie, Nicky, and Alex. After the practice was over, Scorpius and the others would play a pick-up game of Quidditch until lunchtime. Then, he, Al, and Rosie were going to spend the afternoon in the library. They had a three-foot Herbology essay due Monday morning, and all three of them preferred to get their homework out of the way, so they could spend Sunday lazing about the common room.
There was a pile of discarded Quidditch equipment at one end of the pitch. Scorpius picked through it until he found a couple of arm and shin guards that fit and strapped them on over his jumper and jeans. He trudged to the broom shed and took out the broom his grandmother had given him before he came back to school. It was a Cleansweep Fifteen. Not quite as good as James and Al's brooms, but it was perfectly adequate for the pick-up games. He shouldered the broom, and made his way back to the end of the pitch where Parker stood, helping Sophie find a pair of shin guards small enough for her. She stood, shading her eyes with one hand, watching her brothers. 'Fred's got lousy aim,' she commented, as a Bludger went streaking through one of the goal posts.
'Hey, now, Soph,' Parker chided, tugging on a lock of his younger cousin's hair. 'Fred's not used to playing Beater. He's not too bad. You're just used to watching your dad play.'
Sophie shrugged and picked up a Beater's bat, swinging it experimentally. 'I suppose,' she huffed, shrugging. She caught Scorpius' eye. 'But I'm better,' she mouthed conspiratorially, a wide grin on her face.
Scorpius hooted in disbelieving laughter. 'I'll never understand you lot.'
Alex stopped tossing a Quaffle to his twin. 'What do you mean?'
Scorpius shook his head. 'How mad you all are about Quidditch. It is just a game at the end of the day, you know.'
Parker smirked down at Scorpius. 'And what time did Professor Longbottom break up the party when you won the Cup last year?'
'Uh...' Scorpius squirmed. 'Three in the morning,' he admitted in chagrin.
'And who was the one who convinced the Gryffindor boys to paint their chests red and gold for that last game? Like footie fans I've heard about.' Parker grinned. 'And weren't you the one standing on top of one of the tables, bellowing chants, like a footie fan?' Scorpius blushed and mumbled something noncommittal. Parker laughed and saw the Gryffindor team land in the middle of the pitch. He called to Nicky, Alex, and Sophie. 'Come on, you three! Maddie and James are about to pick teams.'
Scorpius trotted after Parker, eager to spend the next hour or so in the air, leaving everything behind. There was something about playing Quidditch that took all of one's attention to the point where everything else was insignificant. He'd play Chaser or Beater now, and worry about his upcoming holiday later.
Scorpius hauled his trunk down to the common room, wishing he'd paid attention in Charms the day Professor Flitwick taught them how to bewitch large objects to make them weightless. He couldn't get it quite right. His charm only made the object a bit lighter. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, puffing for air. 'Oh, Merlin's holey cardie.' Rose's voice came from the other side of the room. Her trunk was not only lighter than air, but levitating. 'Didn't you try the Levipennis charm?' she asked exasperatedly. 'You know that will be on the final exam, don't you?'
Scorpius straightened and glared at Rose, wiping sweat from his brow. 'Yes, I did try it, and yes, I know it will be.' He sat on the edge of his trunk. 'It just doesn't work for me.'
Rose snorted. 'What did you do the day we did that?'
'I seem to recall I lost Gryffindor five points for being unable to so much as charm a bloody textbook.' Scorpius flopped down on one of the sofas. 'I had to do extra homework that night.'
'Let me see you do it,' Rose commanded imperiously.
'Rosie, you're lucky I like you.' Scorpius stood up and pulled his wand from his pocket. He waved it in an upward sweep, forcefully saying, 'Levipennis!' He tried to lift the trunk, but it took more effort than it should have if the spell had worked.
'Huh. You wave your wand too much.' Rose performed the wand movements a few times in illustration. 'See? It's almost more of a swish with the wrist. Like the beginning of levitating something, but without the flick at the end.'
'You're a lifesaver, Rosie. I owe you one.'
'You owe me more than one,' she pointed out. 'Are you all right? You seem a bit distracted lately.'
Scorpius ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. 'Yeah. I'm fine.' He tried the charm on his trunk again, this time copying Rose's wand movements. Scorpius picked up his trunk, half-smiling when it rose easily off the ground and headed for the portrait hole. 'Let's get going. Train's leaving in half an hour.'
Neither of them had seen Al in the shadows. He followed them down to the front entrance. Scorpius started when Al set his trunk down next to him. 'Oh! Hey, Al. I thought you were right behind me?' he asked, baffled.
'I was.' Al gave Scorpius the frank kind of look that made the blonde boy squirm.
'What?'
'Nothing.' Al tugged his trunk toward one of the waiting carriages that would take them to the Hogsmeade station. 'Come on. If we don't go now, all the good compartments will be taken. And we'll have to sit with the firsties,' he said, referring to the younger cousins.
'Would that be so bad?' piped up Rosie.
'See if you feel the same way next year when Hugo starts school,' Al retorted.
'You know, you were an ickle firstie once upon a time, shrimp.' James came out of the entrance. 'And I graciously acknowledged your existence.' He looked at the front of Al's coat. 'What's that?' he asked, fingering a spot just under Al's chin. When Al looked down, James flicked his nose. 'Every single time,' James chortled as he hopped into a waiting carriage. 'Well, aren't you lot coming?' he called to Al, Rose, and Scorpius. 'Or do you really want to sit with the ickle firsties?'
The three of them scrambled into the carriage with James with alacrity, dragging their trunks behind them. When they got to the station, James shot out of the carriage, looking for Fred and Jacob. Rose, Al, and James were somewhat slower to exit the carriage, and they boarded the train, looking for an unoccupied compartment. It was slightly easier than the start of term, given that several students stayed at school for the holidays.
They found a compartment, and helped each other heave their trunks into the overhead luggage racks.
'Can I have a word?' Al softly asked Scorpius, as he stretched up to put his schoolbag on the luggage rack. 'In private,' he whispered. Scorpius frowned, but nodded, jerking his head at Rose, who was rummaging in her bag for a book, with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow. 'Hey, Rosie, Scorpius and I are going to go find James and see if he, Fred, or Jacob brought their chess set.'
'Yeah, okay, fine.' She was paging through her book and sounded preoccupied. Rose wasn't particularly good at chess, and couldn't be bothered most of the time to care.
Al grabbed Scorpius by the arm, and hauled him out into the corridor. 'Do you like Rose?' he asked bluntly. Lily was still in the throes of... Al didn't know what it was, exactly, but he didn't want to see Lily get hurt.
'Well... Yeah...' Scorpius was confused. 'Why?'
'Do you like her, or do you like her?' Al demanded.
Scorpius laughed. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'What else is it supposed to mean? I heard you tell her she was lucky you liked her.' Al's face was set in stubborn lines reminiscent of his mother.
Scorpius' mouth dropped open. 'I... uh...,' he spluttered. He took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. 'As a mate,' he said firmly. 'Look, Al, Rosie's a nice girl and all, but she's...' Scorpius shrugged. 'Just a friend.' He gazed at Al while Al's face slowly relaxed. 'Why do you care so much?' Scorpius asked suspiciously.
'Oh...' Al blinked. 'Just... Looking out for her,' he said, scuffing the toe of his trainer into the carpet.
Scorpius laughed. 'Rosie hardly needs anyone to look after her,' he scoffed.
That's not the "her" I was talking about, Al thought. Instead he forced himself to chuckle ruefully, and reply, 'Yeah.'
'Are you okay?' Scorpius peered at Al closely.
'Yeah, fine.' Al waved off his friend's concern. 'Lily's going to be disappointed that you're not coming home with us for the holiday,' he said, changing the subject.'
'Yeah, me, too. Christmas last year was brilliant. I'm not so sure about this one.'
'Why?'
Scorpius sighed and picked at a loose thread on his jumper. 'It's just... Before my grandfather died, we would either go to France or some of my mother's family would come over for dinner. If we stayed here, it was one of the longest days of my life. If we went to France, Father spent most of his time with Grandfather, and after dinner I got the lecture about Proper Malfoy Behavior. It never changed from the time I was five years old.' He grinned crookedly. 'But my father still hasn't really talked directly to me since I started school, so I'm not sure how this is all going to work out.'
'Oh.' Al didn't know what to say.
'You're really lucky, you know.' Scorpius shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
'I'm starting to figure that out,' Al murmured.
Ginny and Lily stood on the platform, with Bill, Charlie, Penny, Katie, and Ron waiting for the train to come in. 'I can't wait for next September,' Lily stated.
'So you've said,' Ginny replied dryly. 'At least twice a day since we sent the boys off.'
'I already know the book list, what I need for my Potions kit, what I'm allowed to bring and not allowed to bring. That I need to use my right hand when I go for my wand and I've been coming to Nine-and-Three-Quarters for ages.'
Ginny looked down at her daughter's bright head. 'I dunno, Lils,' she said, considering. 'You might be a Squib. Mum does have that cousin who's an accountant or something, you know. It can happen.'
Lily gaped at her mother in horror over the idea of being a Squib. 'B-b-b-but I can't be a Squib!' she exclaimed. 'I can't be! What about that time James gave me a haircut and it all grew back overnight? Or when I fell from the apple tree at the Burrow and didn't even get a bruise?' Lily's voice rose in growing hysteria.
'Lily! I'm joking.' Ginny crouched down, so she was eye-level with her daughter. 'Of course you're going to Hogwarts next term,' she said soothingly. 'We've joked with you like this before, and you've never reacted this way. What's the matter?'
Lily sniffed and rubbed her mitten under her nose. 'I really, really want to go,' she mumbled. 'I've wanted to go ever since James went to Hogwarts. And it's going to be my turn in September.' She hiccupped and looked up at Ginny with watery brown eyes. 'What if I don't get my letter?' she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
Ginny drew Lily into her arms. 'Oh, darling, you will get your letter. I promise. There's no doubt you were magical from the day you were born.' She brushed Lily's hair away from her eyes. 'And this time, next year, your dad and I will be here waiting for you and your brothers.' She used the cuff of her jumper to swab the tears that had trickled down Lily's cheeks. 'I'm sorry, Lily. I was just teasing you.'
Lily just nodded against Ginny's shoulder.
A piercing whistle echoed through the platform, and Ginny kissed Lily on the forehead, before standing up, keeping a firm grip on Lily's hand. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, steam billowing around the train. It came to a stop, and before too long, students were spilling out of the train, greeting their parents, and disappearing as their parents Side-Alonged them, going through one of the several fireplaces connected to the Floo, or slipping through the barrier in small groups. Ginny saw Daphne Malfoy on the other side of the platform, standing off to the side with Narcissa. Several people brushed by them, barely acknowledging they stood there. Ginny took a deep breath, and started walking, pointedly ignoring her family's inquiries of what she doing. 'Mrs. Malfoy,' she said, holding out a hand to Daphne.
'It's Daphne.' Daphne smiled and shook the hand Ginny held out to her. 'Are you meeting your boys?'
'Yes.' Ginny twirled a lock of Lily's hair absently around a finger. 'Would you mind if I sent Scorpius something? It's just a small gift.'
Daphne seemed taken aback, but she managed to reply, 'No. I think he'd like that.'
Al, James, and Scorpius stepped onto the platform, and warily approached their mothers. 'Hello, Mother.' Scorpius' eyes brightened as he saw Narcissa behind Daphne. 'Grandmother!' he exclaimed. He hadn't expected Narcissa to come along to pick him up. A flash of sunset caught his attention, and he gave Lily a shy smile. 'Hi, Lily,' he said, feeling his face grow warm.
Lily grinned at him. 'Hi, Scorpius.' Her cheeks turned rosy as a flush crept up her face.
Al and James exchanged looks, rolling their eyes. Ginny caught the gleam in James' eye, and flicked his ear in warning, slightly shaking her head. James rubbed his ear, and huffed. He hated to miss an opportunity to wind up his siblings, but seeing as his mother was talking to Scorpius' mother, he knew he had to at least try to behave. Or he'd get an earful from Ginny later.
Al had been so involved in watching Scorpius and Lily studiously avoid each other's gaze, and examine their shoes that he nearly missed Daphne tell his mother, 'You really don't mind bringing him back to London?'
'Not at all,' Ginny replied firmly. 'We'll work out the arrangements for bringing Scorpius over to our house later, but it's not a problem at all to bring him to the train.'
'What?' Scorpius' eyes snapped to his mother. 'What did you say?'
Narcissa laughed. 'You're going to spend a few days with the Potters before you go back to school. I think you need to Scourgify your ears.'
'Really?' Scorpius expression turned hopeful. Daphne nodded. 'Thank you!' he breathed.
Ginny looked at Daphne. 'I'll send you an owl next week, then. Come on, then,' she said to Al, James, and Lily. 'It'll be past dinner by the time we get home.' She helped the boys load their trunks on trolleys and led her children through the barrier and out to the car park. Scorpius tightly gripped the handle of his trunk with one hand, and held his mother's hand with his free hand. She Apparated them to Malfoy Manor.
Scorpius sat up. Moonlight poured through the frosty windows of his bedroom. He didn't sleep well for a few nights when he first came home. It was weird to sleep in this large room, in his oversized bed after the past several months of the cozy confines of his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. It was too quiet. He was used to sleeping with the mingled sounds of four other boys sleeping. Anil snored to the point where Al begged Professor Flitwick to show them how to do some sort of charm to muffle the sounds. Max twitched as he fell asleep, making his bedclothes rustle. Al sighed in his sleep. Sebastian was a talker. It was never this eerily silent.
So far the break had been... Tolerable, he guessed. Scorpius had asked Daphne and Narcissa if they could decorate the tree, instead of Perri, the house-elf. Perri had nearly been distraught when Scorpius told her she didn't have to decorate the tree this year, and was on the verge of breaking into piteous wails when Scorpius informed her she was more than welcome to help, and asked her to please prepare some snacks for them to have while they worked. He supposed the tree looked out of place in the elegant drawing room, with its paper chains and snowflakes, but Perri had somehow managed to put fairy lights on the tree, so that it looked like stars were scattered among the branches. Perri had also supplied hot mulled cider, popcorn, and biscuits. He had spent several hours with his mother and grandmother, laughing at their efforts to make snowflakes with paper and scissors, singing with the music on the wireless.
Scorpius pushed back the duvet, and picked up his dressing gown, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers. He knew Perri kept a tin of his favorite biscuits in the pantry. He opened the bedroom door quietly, and stuck his head into the hallway. It wasn't horribly late, but if his mother or grandmother saw he was up, they would make him go back to bed. Scorpius pulled his head back inside his bedroom, and picked up his wand from the top of a wardrobe. 'Lumos,' he whispered, and he crept into the hallway, the thick carpet muffling his footfalls.
He took the back way to the kitchen, so he didn't notice the light spilling from Draco's study. He opened a cupboard and found a glass, filling it with milk from a bottle charmed to stay cold. Scorpius opened the pantry door, and slipped inside. The cinnamon-laced biscuits were just where Perri had said they would be. He pried off the lid, and took out a handful of biscuits, laying them on a serviette. Scorpius replaced the lid, and slid down to sit on the floor while he munched his biscuits.
A loud thumping sound made him straighten, hand clutched around his wand. The kitchen door slammed open and Scorpius drew in a sharp breath. 'Nox,' he whispered, barely making a sound. His breath hitched in his chest in shallow, panting gasps. He slowly reached for the pantry door, and closed it, leaving it open a crack, so he could still see into the kitchen.
Draco stumbled into the kitchen, and floundered into the scrubbed wooden table, making the wooden table legs screech against the tiles of the floor. Scorpius caught a whiff of wine, and wrinkled his nose. He hadn't ever seen his father like this before. He watched Draco steady himself on the table and carefully walk in an exaggerated tiptoe to the owl perch. Cordelia, his mother's owl, eyed Draco suspiciously, shuffling nervously on her perch. 'Ish fer Molly Weashley,' he slurred. Scorpius drew in a sharp breath. Why is Father sending a letter to Mrs. Weasley? He shook his head. It didn't make sense. He had heard his father mutter about, 'those blood-traitor Weasleys' often enough. Draco succeeded in convincing Cordelia to take the letter, and the kitchen was filled with the feathery swish of an owl taking flight. Draco blundered back out of the kitchen, shoving the swinging door open with a bang.
Scorpius slowly released the breath he'd been holding. He shoved the rest of the biscuits on the serviette into this mouth. The pleasure of his late-night snack was gone. He hastily gulped his milk and got to his feet. The serviette went into a basket in the corner, and the glass went into the sink. He stole back upstairs to his bedroom and crawled under the duvet.
'Harry, does this look odd to you?' Molly handed Harry a crumpled, heavily ink-spotted letter when he stopped at the Burrow to pick up Ginny's Christmas gift that he had hidden there.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the illegible handwriting on the front of the envelope. He shook out the letter and as he read, both eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. 'It looks like Draco's handwriting. Or it could be.' Harry raised the parchment to his nose and sniffed a dark purple stain delicately. 'Must have been drunk.' He slowly re-read the letter. 'And nobody would have called Bellatrix Lestrange anything but Bellatrix, except a close family member,' he stressed. 'Or Riddle,' he added as an afterthought. He meditatively folded the letter and slid it carefully back into its envelope. 'Seems there's truth in the bottom of a bottle after all,' he commented, wincing inwardly. He remembered the few times he'd gotten horribly drunk and been brutally honest because the alcohol had lifted any inhibitions he may have had. 'Mind if I keep this?'
'Goodness, no. Take it,' she said, waving a hand at the letter.
Harry tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat. This would definitely make Draco's next probationary interview more interesting than it already was shaping up to be. He was grateful Molly hand shown it to him, out of a sense of fairness, more than wanting to help Draco. The last thing Harry wanted to do was throw someone into Azkaban who didn't belong there. Even Draco Malfoy didn't deserve that.
Draco's letter to Molly Weasley is the chapter titled "Intoxicated" in Letter.
TWENTY -- The Princess Diaries
Scorpius slid into his seat at breakfast, two days before Christmas. Narcissa was the only other occupant at the table, lingering over a cup of tea. 'Have you finished your Christmas shopping?' she asked.
Scorpius shook his head, his mouth full of eggs. Swallowing, he reached for his juice and gulped half of it before replying, 'No. I just have Lily left on my list.'
'You're cutting it awfully close. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and you're going with Teddy to the Potters' after tea on Boxing Day.'
'I know.' Scorpius slouched in his chair, picking at the sausages on his plate. 'Nothing seems right.'
'You could just get her a large box of Honeydukes' best,' Narcissa commented idly, deliberately baiting her grandson.
'No!' Scorpius exclaimed. 'I mean... No, that's not fair to Lily if I'm giving James and Al something to just give her a pile of sweets,' he stammered.
'Hmmm-mmmm.' Narcissa didn't miss Scorpius' reaction to her suggestion. He'd nearly come unglued at the idea of giving Lily something as impersonal as candy.
'No, really, Grandmother.'
Narcissa smothered a laugh. 'Finish your breakfast, and I'll take you into London. We'll find something for Lily.'
Scorpius shoved his plate aside. 'I'm finished,' he said, gulping the rest of his juice as he stood up.
'Go get your coat and I'll tell your mother where we're going.' Narcissa watched him race out of the dining room, her eyes creased in amusement. Even if Scorpius merely harbored a crush for Lily Potter, he had it bad for her. She hadn't missed the flush that stained his cheeks when he'd been informed he would spend part of his holiday with the Potters.
'Where's Scorpius heading in such a hurry?' inquired Daphne, coming into the dining room.
'We're going to London so he can get a gift for Lily.'
'Ohhhhh,' Daphne breathed, nodding in comprehension. 'He really does like her.'
'Okay, Grandmother,' Scorpius panted slightly, winding the blue scarf Ginny had given him last Christmas around his neck. He already wore the matching mittens and hat.
'Diagon Alley or Muggle London?' Narcissa asked, as she pulled her coat from a cupboard near the front door.
'Muggle London,' Scorpius replied promptly, following Narcissa out to the snowy lane in front of the mansion. Narcissa held out a hand and Scorpius grasped it with his mittened one, and they Disapparated to Diagon Alley, going through the Leaky Cauldron to the busy streets of London.
'Mum?'
Ginny looked up from the article she was editing for one of the younger reporters. Eleanor Selwyn, who had been the editor since before Albus was born, was looking to retire at the end of the current Quidditch season, and was trying to find a replacement for her job as editor of the sports section of the paper. Ginny was one of the two current reporters under consideration for the job. 'What, Lily?' she asked in minor irritation. She had to finish editing the article soon and get it back to London.
'When you're done with that, can I ask you something?'
Ginny looked at her daughter, who bore an uncharacteristically solemn expression, her irritation dissipating as quickly as it had arisen. 'Give me ten minutes.'
'Okay.' Lily walked back to the sofa, dragging her feet. She remembered last Christmas, when her parents had told them about their lives before she and her brothers were born. Lily didn't remember much of the details, but she remembered something about a diary and Ginny. Lily hadn't given the conversation much thought over the last year, but one of her teachers at school had assigned them keep a diary over the holiday, and the thought of her mother and a diary kept niggling in the back of her head. She did also remember that her parents did agree to answer any and all of their questions from then on.
'Lils? What's wrong?' Ginny sat on the sofa next to Lily and put an arm around her shoulders. Lily automatically snuggled into Ginny as Ginny's hand began to stroke her hair.
'Mum, do you remember your diary?'
'You'll have to be a little more specific than that. I've had more than one.'
'The one you and Dad talked about last Christmas.'
'Oh, that one,' Ginny murmured flatly.
'You said someone gave it to you...'
Ginny stilled and her hand ceased its stroking of Lily's hair. 'Yes, I did.'
'Who?' Lily asked.
Ginny's arm tightened around Lily. 'It's not important. You really don't need to know. They're gone now.'
'But why?' Lily protested. 'You promised! You and Dad promised you'd answer any questions we had.'
'I know, but this one...' Ginny hesitated. She cupped Lily's face in her hands and looked down at her daughter's face. She looked into Lily's bright, determined eyes and came to a decision. It was better to hear it from either her or Harry, than to find it in a book somewhere. 'I will need for you to be very grown-up for this.'
'Why?'
Ginny used the back of her hand to gently push one of Lily's plaits over her shoulder. 'It was Lucius Malfoy,' she admitted.
'Malfoy? But that's Scorpius' last name...' Lily's coppery brows knit, as she made the connection and recoiled from Ginny.
Ginny closed her eyes and put a hand on Lily's knee. 'Yes, it is.' She inhaled slowly. 'Lucius Malfoy is -- was -- Scorpius' grandfather. He died last spring.'
Lily's eyes were round in her small face. 'No...'
'Lily, Scorpius is nothing like his grandfather. He wouldn't be in Gryffindor if he was.' Ginny pulled Lily closer to her.
Lily shook her head. 'No, no, no...' She tore herself from Ginny's arms and ran upstairs to her room. Ginny jumped as Lily's bedroom door slammed.
'What was that?' Harry came in the front door and hung his coat on a hook by the front door.
'Lily.' Ginny pushed off the sofa and darted into the office, scooping the articles off the desk and stuffing them into her bag. 'I need to go,' she told Harry as she walked back into the sitting room. 'I need to go... To the paper,' she mumbled, snatching a handful of Floo powder from the flower pot on the mantle and throwing it into the flames.
Harry grabbed Ginny's arm before she could go through the fireplace and the emerald flames died away. 'What happened?'
'She asked about the diary,' Ginny replied shortly, trying to remove her arm from Harry's grasp. 'She didn't take it well when I told her it was Scorpius' grandfather.' She gave up attempting to tug her arm from Harry's hand -- his grip was too strong.
Harry didn't say anything for a moment. He began mildly, 'Storming out and sulking during emotional upheavals is my department.' He let go of Ginny's arm. 'You have to go tell her the rest of it. You're the only one who can tell her what she wants to know.' When Ginny looked at him doubtfully, he continued, 'I'll go with you.'
Ginny sagged against the mantle. 'I can't.'
'You have to. We promised them.'
Ginny whirled around to face Harry. 'You didn't see her!' She jabbed a finger sharply into Harry's chest, making him grunt. 'You didn't see her when she realized her friend -- a boy we've welcomed into our home with open arms -- is related to the effing bastard that nearly killed me!' she shouted.
'And you want me to go upstairs and tell her about all those blank spots in my mind and how I nearly killed four people and a cat! And damn near killed a ghost, too!' Ginny started shaking. 'I almost killed you,' she sniffed.
'It wasn't you,' Harry stated calmly.
'Well, it certainly wasn't Riddle getting his hands dirty, that's for damn sure,' she snarled. 'I can't do it,' she repeated and snatched another handful of Floo powder from the pot and threw it into the fireplace, saying, 'The Prophet.' She darted into the fireplace before Harry could stop her.
The Prophet office was deserted on the fifth floor, where the Quidditch department was housed. Ginny sat at her desk, the same desk she'd used for nearly fifteen years, with her head in her hands. She stared unseeing at the stacks of parchment in front of her, the writing long since blurred to nothing. She slowly pushed back her chair and carelessly gathered the articles in one hand, knocking over an open bottle of ink. It splashed over the desk's surface and Ginny froze, the parchment fluttering to the floor.
Arthur carried Ginny into the hospital wing. She was still weeping uncontrollably into his shoulder. She cried all through Madam Pomfrey's examination. She was relieved when Madam Pomfrey suggested she stay in the hospital wing overnight and not return to her dormitory.
'Why don't you go get cleaned up, dear?' Madam Pomfrey advised, fingering Ginny's dirty and matted hair.
Ginny nodded and stumbled blindly into the bathroom. She peeled off her uniform, letting it fall to the antiseptically clean floor in a filthy heap. Sniffling, she stepped into the shower cubicle and immediately tried to wash out the ink caked into her hair that had run from the mutilated diary. She spent nearly half an hour washing and re-washing her hair until the water ran clear when she rinsed it. Ginny picked up a face cloth, draped over a small hook and picked up the bar of soap resting in a small recess of the wall. She lathered the cloth and proceeded to scrub every inch of her skin she could reach. When she had scrubbed herself pink and nearly raw, she still felt grimy, but it had nothing to do with her physical cleanliness. Ginny wished fervently she could take the face cloth to her mind.
'Ginny?' Ginny's head snapped up. Molly's voice penetrated through the fog that had enveloped her since she woke up in the Chamber, Harry dying in front of her eyes. 'Ginny, are you all right? You've been in there for nearly an hour.'
'I'm fine, Mum.' She winced at how much her voice quaked. 'I... I'll be out in a minute.' Ginny turned off the tap and reached for a towel with a trembling hand. She wrapped it around her dripping hair, then wrapped another one around her body. Her hands had shriveled into deep ridges from being in the shower so long. A clean set of pajamas sat neatly folded on a chair by the door. Ginny pulled them on. They were much too big, but they were clean and dry. It was all that mattered at this point.
Ginny shuffled back into the main part of the hospital wing, where Molly sat in a chair next to one of the beds while she knitted what appeared to be Charlie's Christmas jumper. Ginny could smell the bitter scent of the Fireproofing charm Molly put on the yarn as she wearily pulled herself on the bed. Molly handed Ginny a large mug of hot chocolate. Ginny didn't make an attempt to drink it, but stared into the liquid. 'You'll feel better,' Molly urged. Ginny half-heartedly shrugged and took a few tentative sips of the drink. Molly's hand hovered over a small vial. 'Madam Pomfrey left you a Sleeping Draught. If you want it.'
'Maybe later.' Ginny set the mug down and picked up the comb lying on the table next to the bed and tried to pull it through her tangled hair.
'Here, let me?' Molly's hand hovered over Ginny's and Ginny handed her mother the comb. Molly gently teased the snarls and tangles from Ginny's hair until she could freely run the comb from Ginny scalp to the ends of her hair. Ginny felt her shoulders droop, but she couldn't allow herself to sleep yet.
'Mum?'
'Yes, Ginny?'
'Could you... Would you please cut my hair?' Ginny felt Molly's hand jerk in surprise. Ginny's hair fell nearly to her waist.
Molly cleared her throat. 'Of course, dear.' She drew her wand from a pocket of her robes. 'How much?'
Ginny pulled a lock over her shoulder and glanced down at it. She drew a line with a fingertip a couple of inches below her shoulder. 'There.'
Molly didn't ask why Ginny chose that particular length. She had seen just how far the ink snaked up Ginny's hair, marring the bright copper waves with sticky black. She moved to sit on the bed next to Ginny, and quietly used a Severing charm to cut her hair. She laid each lock of hair she sheared from Ginny's head on the table and when it was done, pointed her wand at the pile of glimmering hair and murmured, 'Evanesco.' Molly looked at Ginny, who seemed so much younger than she was, and so much older at the same time. She ran a hand over Ginny's shorn hair, tucking a wayward lock behind an ear. 'There. It's done.'
Ginny smiled tremulously. 'Thanks, Mum.' Her hand closed over the vial and she upended it into her mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste. She picked up the mug and drained it, as well, to rid herself of the taste. Ginny slid down into the bed, and let Molly tuck the blankets around her like she was a small child.
In moments, she blinked drowsily a few times, and was asleep.
Nobody outside the family had ever known it had been Ginny who opened the Chamber. Dumbledore had seen to that before she had left school for the summer. They hadn't been home more than a couple of weeks when Arthur won the Prophet's Galleon grand prize. Ginny had wondered a time or two over the years if her parents had deliberately taken them to Egypt to visit Bill, just to get her out of the country, so she wouldn't have so much time to brood about the last several months.
She opened her bag and pulled out her wand, and began to siphon the ink from the desk. She stooped to collect the scattered articles and put them on Eleanor's desk. Ginny glanced at her watch. It was getting late. She went back to her desk and grabbed her bag and headed for an Apparition point in the back of the office.
Scorpius heaved a weary sigh. They had combed through various toy shops and even a few large Muggle department stores. But nothing screamed "Lily" to him. 'It's hopeless, Grandmother,' he muttered. 'I'm never going to find something.'
'We'll find something.' Narcissa pointed to a book shop window. 'That looks promising.'
'Well, she does like to read...' Scorpius trudged to the shop window. His flagging spirits rose slightly as he took in the decorations. Twinkling fairy lights bordered the windowpane and a small, Christmas tree stood in the middle, a tiny village under its branches and a miniature train chugged its way around the village. He tugged open the door and went inside.
Scorpius began to scan the shelves, his head tilted sideways, until he bumped into someone. 'Pardon me,' he murmured automatically, his eyes glued to the books.
'Looking for something in particular?' A voice came from above his head and Scorpius looked up to see the person he had bumped into. It was a sales clerk for the shop.
'Yes.'
'What's the title? Maybe I can help you find it faster.'
Scorpius sighed. 'I don't know the title. I don't even know the book...'
'But you'll know it when you see it, eh?' the clerk said wryly.
'Yes.'
'Is it for you?'
Scorpius shook his head. 'No, it's for a friend.'
'What's he like?' The clerk sat down on the edge of a small stage, used for a daily story hour, patting the space next to her, inviting Scorpius to sit next to her.
He plopped down on the carpeted space, thinking about Lily. 'Well, she's a good, uh...' Scorpius scoured his brain for the name of that Muggle sport Teddy was so fond of. 'Football player,' he blurted. 'She's a little girly, likes flowers, and the color pink.' Here, he shuddered a little. He remembered Al telling him about his and James' punishment right after they came home for the summer and how Lily had the upper hand over them both. 'She's kind of a princess sometimes. But she's all right.'
'A princess, huh?' The clerk gazed at the shelves of books surrounding them, lost in thought.
'Yeah. But not one of those kinds of princesses who get locked in a tower and need to be saved,' Scorpius added. 'She knows what she wants, and how she's going to get it.'
'Ah. I think I might have something.' She went to a section of shelving and ran an index finger of the spines of the books. 'Here it is.' The clerk handed Scorpius the book.
He read the title aloud. 'Many Moons?'
The clerk smiled wistfully. 'Yeah. It was one of my favorites as a child. The princess gets sick, and when asked what will make her better, she says the moon. So everybody comes up with these elaborate answers about what the moon's made of, but nobody asks her. Well, until the court jester does. She's a resourceful one. Has all the answers.'
'Can I read it first? Before I make a decision?'
'Sure. I'll just leave you to it. If you need any more help, I'm Natalie.'
'Thank you.' Scorpius opened the book, grinning at the whimsical drawings. Lily would like those. He laughed at the convoluted reasons why nobody could get the moon for the poor girl, when all they had to do was ask her in the first place. Oh yes, Lily would like this one. He turned to see Narcissa gracefully perched on a small, child-sized chair. 'Found it.'
'Lovely. Let's go pay for it, then find some hot chocolate somewhere.'
'And some cake?' Scorpius wheedled. 'I'm hungry.'
'You just ate lunch a few hours ago. Nearly ate the plate, too.'
'Yes, but I'm hungry now.'
Narcissa grinned. 'I think we can arrange for some cake, too.'
'Brilliant...' Scorpius joined the queue at the counter, clutching the book to his chest.
Ginny opened the back door of the house, stepping into the warm kitchen. A covered plate sat on the back of the stove. She lifted the edge of the serviette, and wrinkled her nose at the vegetables, beginning to shrivel. Harry must have forgotten to put a Stasis charm on the plate. She set her bag down in a chair and made her way to the sitting room. It was empty. Light spilled from the office, and Ginny went to investigate. Harry was at the desk, preparing for January's probation interviews. 'Hey,' she said softly.
He looked up over the rims of his glasses. 'Hey,' he responded. 'Lily's still in her room. Hasn't come out, didn't eat the dinner we left for her.' He leaned back in his chair. 'You have to go talk to her.'
'I know.' Ginny looked down at the rug, idly noting it was getting worn at the edges. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.
Harry shot out of his chair and darted around the desk, wrapping his arms around her. 'None of it was your fault,' he crooned into her hair. 'She'll know that.'
Ginny buried her face in Harry's shoulder. 'I don't like to think about it.'
'I know, love, I don't either.' He lifted Ginny's chin with his finger. 'But we did promise.' Ginny gulped and nodded. 'You don't have to do it alone.'
'I don't think I want to go up alone,' she confessed. Harry reached down for her hand, and laced his fingers through hers, and led Ginny up the stairs to Lily's room.
Ginny took a deep breath, before she knocked on the door. 'Lils? It's Mum. Can I come in?' She was met by silence. Ginny looked up at Harry, who motioned to the door. 'Lily?'
The door opened and Lily turned and padded back to the bed, curling up on it, with her stuffed bunny held tightly in her hands. Ginny followed her into the darkened room, waving her wand at the lamp, making it glow dimly in the room. Ginny sat on the edge of the bed. 'Lily? You mustn't hold anything against Scorpius. He couldn't help what family he was born into. His mum and grandmother are really nice.'
Lily didn't respond, but clutched the bunny tighter.
Ginny licked her dry lips and plunged ahead. 'Lucius Malfoy put the diary in my cauldron when we were out buying my things for school for my first year. He sort of goaded Dad into a scuffle and in the melee, slipped the diary in with the rest of my books. I just assumed Mum and Dad bought it for me.' She reached for Harry's hand, and continued. 'When I started school, I was expecting your uncle Ron to sort of pick up where we left off when he went to school. But he had his own friends and didn't want me tagging along after him. So, I started writing in this diary. And amazingly, it wrote back to me.
'It was Riddle, or the part of his soul that was embedded in the diary. And the more I wrote, the more he was able to posses me. He... He used me to do things. Like kill the school chickens, or paint nasty messages on the wall. He made me open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and allowed a basilisk to Petrify four students, one cat, and a ghost. I didn't really know what I was doing. Most of it's these large blank spots in my memory. He really wanted to kill your father, and he made me go to the Chamber to lure Harry down there.
'Your dad almost died.' Ginny felt a tremor go through Lily. 'And I blamed myself for a long time. It wasn't until months after Riddle had been defeated at the end of my sixth year of school that I was able to try and forget about it. I never went down that corridor at school where the entrance was again after my first year.'
'Didn't you know what was happening to you?' asked Lily in a muffled voice.
'Eventually. I tried to flush the diary down a toilet, but it wasn't going to go away that easily. Your dad found it and found out a few things, but he didn't write in it like I did. He didn't try to pour his soul into it out of loneliness.
'When I found out Harry had the diary, I panicked, and broke into his dormitory.' Harry gently squeezed her hand. 'I tore apart his trunk looking for it.'
'Why?' interrupted Lily.
'I thought your dad would find out I was behind all the attacks and hate me. And I didn't want that to happen.'
'Did Lucius Malfoy know what the diary was?' Lily asked in a small voice.
'I don't think so,' interjected Harry. 'He didn't know it held part of Riddle's soul. Malfoy was one of Riddle's Death Eaters. Do you remember what we said about them?' Lily nodded. 'He thought it was just cursed to open the Chamber.'
'How can someone as nice as Scorpius be related to someone so bad?' Lily asked.
Harry gave his daughter a wry smile. 'One day, I'll tell you about my Muggle relatives. But it depends on a lot of things. Mostly how you're raised.'
'And Scorpius will never do anything to hurt you. Or anyone else.' Ginny stroked Lily's hair from her face.
Lily lay staring at the ceiling. 'I think I'd like to go to sleep now,' she said, turning on her side, and closing her eyes.
Ginny stood and draped a blanket over Lily. 'Good night, Lily.' She kissed Lily's cheek and stumbled from the room. She collapsed across the bed in her bedroom, shivering. Harry came in a few minutes after she did, and stood over her long enough to remove her shoes. He nudged her over, so he could turn down the bed, and urged her to get under the bedding. He climbed in with her, and gathered her in his arms.
After several minutes, Ginny slowly stopped shivering. 'How do you deal with it?' she asked. 'You have so much more than I do.'
'I was never possessed by him,' Harry pointed out, tightening his embrace. 'Have you ever told anyone else the whole story? Besides me?'
'No...'
Harry sighed and nuzzled the back of Ginny's neck. 'Try to get some sleep.'
Hours later, a snuffling sound woke Harry. Lily was standing beside the bed, rubbing her eyes with a fist. 'What's up, Lils? Bad dream?' Lily nodded. Harry lifted her into the bed and settled her between him and Ginny. Lily was asleep almost instantly, but Ginny's eyes opened and met Harry's.
He slid his free arm over Lily and Ginny. Ginny's hand sought his and she held it through the night like a lifeline.
A/N: The book Scorpius gets for Lily is called Many Moons by James Thurber. It was one of my favorite books when I was younger, and I spent years trying to track it down. (I couldn't remember the title, just the plot.)
It's still in print, too. If you want to go read it, just to see for yourself. :)
TWENTY ONE -- Shadowed Snowflakes
Scorpius sat in the middle of his bedroom floor, and carefully laid Lily's book in the middle of a square of wrapping paper printed with sparkling snowflakes. He painstakingly folded the paper around the book, the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, and used an old roll of Spellotape to seal it. Flipping the flat package over, he attached a tag with Lily's name on it to the front, and wound a ribbon around it, tying into a crooked bow.
He looked up in satisfaction, grinning at the neatly wrapped package, the satisfied smile fading slowly. Draco was lurking in the shadowed corridor outside Scorpius' bedroom. Scorpius hadn't seen his father much since he got home, except at dinner. He tugged self-consciously a bit at his sweatshirt, emblazoned with a Gryffindor logo, and met his father's gaze. Draco blinked a few times, and rocked a little in indecision, but habit sent him down the chilly corridor to his bedroom. Scorpius merely shrugged in resigned acceptance and picked up his gifts for James, Al, and Lily, and deposited them in the bottom of his wardrobe, before tidying the debris from his gift-wrapping spree.
Draco pulled open a bureau drawer in his bedroom, and began to rummage for the flask he'd hidden there. He unscrewed the flask and tilted it over his mouth. He gulped a few swallows of the whisky inside and slowly lowered it, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. Draco jammed the cap back on the flask and shoved it under his socks. He backed up slowly, until the backs of his knees came into contact with the edge of the bed, and sank down, giving the bureau a baleful glare. He knew the alcohol had become a crutch since his father died last spring. He hadn't completely drowned himself in an alcoholic haze yet, like Lucius had. Draco took some comfort in that he hadn't sunk so far as to spend every evening working his way through a bottle of whisky. He fell backward onto the bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Talking to his son didn't come easily. It never had. Draco had seen Harry take his two sons to the train last year, and his stomach twisted with envy as he watched Harry speak to his youngest son, a reassuring smile on his face. Draco had wanted to badly to be able to do the same to his own son, but all he could manage was a stern lecture on upholding the Malfoy family name. It was what his father had done, after all. Showing affection was not something easily done in the Malfoy household.
Draco had mentally sampled several topics of conversation he could broach with Scorpius, and almost immediately rejected them at dinner the last few nights, settling for ostentatious throat-clearing to hide his crippling indecision. He couldn't help but see Scorpius' shoulders tense each time. Draco had heard the rustle of paper when he came up the stairs earlier, and stood hidden in the shadows, watching his son meticulously wrap a few gifts, humming tunelessly under his breath. The last one, though, Scorpius had taken extra care in wrapping. Draco stepped forward, the question as to who it was for dying on his lips, even as the question formed on them.
Draco curled into a fetal position in the middle of the bed, pulling his knees into his chest. Spineless, he sneered. It was an accusation his father had thrown at him often enough before Lucius had gone into Azkaban.
He wondered how long it would take until he slipped under the surface of his self-loathing and drowned in it.
He wondered if he had the courage to stay afloat.
Scorpius bounced slightly on the sofa at Andromeda's, a little impatiently. He reached for another biscuit, and idly nibbled it, heaving a gusty sigh. 'Are we boring you?' Teddy asked, an amused glint in his eyes.
'No,' Scorpius replied, not untruthfully. It was interesting, listening to stories of what his grandmother had been like at his age, but he was anxious to go to Godric's Hollow for the last few days of the holiday.
Teddy laughed, and stood up. 'Go get your bag and coat. I promised Ginny I'd have you at the house before dinner.' Scorpius dashed from the sitting room, and into the front entrance, to collect his things. When he returned, his coat hung haphazardly from his shoulders.
Scorpius dropped his bag and threw his arms around his mother. 'Thanks, Mother. I'll send you an owl when I get to school Monday.'
Daphne returned the embrace, kissing his cheek. 'I'll see you at the Easter holiday, dear.'
Scorpius turned his attentions to Narcissa. 'Goodbye, Grandmother.'
Narcissa ruffled Scorpius tumbled hair. 'Stay out of trouble. I don't want any letters that you've done something, like exploded the Potions dungeon.'
'I'll have you know I get Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations in Potions,' he sniffed. 'I can't promise nothing'll explode around Fred, Jacob, or James, though,' he said, grinning impudently. 'Thank you for the tea, Mrs... Er... Aunt...'
'Andromeda's fine,' Andromeda interrupted gently.
'Thank you, Andromeda,' Scorpius said, blushing slightly. He looked up at Teddy. 'Ready?'
'Absolutely. Let's go.' Teddy stooped to kiss Andromeda's cheek. 'Bye, Gran. I'll be over for dinner tomorrow.' He and Scorpius stepped out to the back garden. 'Hang on,' he said to Scorpius. Scorpius gripped the sleeve of Teddy's coat, and they Disapparated to Godric's Hollow.
Teddy led Scorpius into the back door into the kitchen, calling, 'Harry? Ginny? We're here!'
Scorpius blinked in the warm kitchen, redolent with the scents of cinnamon and chocolate, following Teddy through the kitchen door into the sitting room. He was greeted by the sight of James and Al lying on their stomachs by the hearth, playing some sort of game, muttering things about conservatories and candlesticks. Al glanced up and his face lit up. 'Hi! How was your Christmas? Did you get anything good this year? Did you get the scarf from Mum? We waited to take the picture, so you could be in it -- '
'Are you going to let Scorpius answer, or just have him wait until you pass out from lack of oxygen?' James interrupted. 'Not like you haven't seen him in months, either.'
'Shut up, James.' Al scowled at his brother. 'So?' he asked, looking up at Scorpius expectantly.
'Christmas was fine. I got some more of those Muggle comic strip collections, and a book on Scottish magical herbs, and yes, I got the scarf.' Scorpius pulled the end of the deep red scarf from his coat, waggling it over Al's head. 'Can we do it first thing in the morning, like last year?'
The sounds of footsteps on the stairs made Scorpius turn. Lily had come down the stairs, but stopped halfway, ducking her head. 'Hi, Lily,' he said, grinning happily.
Lily didn't respond, but turned and bolted up the stairs. Scorpius watched her with a raised eyebrow. 'What was that about?'
Al and James exchanged a look and shrugged. 'Don't know,' James said, gathering up the pieces of the game and stowing them in a box. 'She's been like that since Saturday. Right little ray of sunshine on Christmas, I'll have you know.'
Scorpius shrugged off his coat and plopped to the floor. 'What happened Saturday?'
Al shook his head. 'Don't know. She and Mum were talking, and then next thing we know, she's shut herself up in her room. Refused to come out until we went to the Burrow the next day for lunch.'
'That's odd,' Teddy said from the sofa. Startled, the three boys turned their heads to look at him. They had forgotten he was in the room. 'Lily doesn't usually go for the quiet sulking route. If she's upset about something we're sure to hear about it.'
'No kidding,' mumbled James.
'Oh!' Ginny came out of the office. 'When did you get here?'
'Five minutes ago,' Teddy answered, rolling his eyes. 'You must be getting deaf in your old age.'
Ginny narrowed her eyes at her godson. 'I may be thirty-seven, but I can still duel your arse into the ground,' she countered, lightly cuffing him on the back of the head. 'Why don't you three go take that stuff upstairs and get ready for dinner?' she told the boys, pointing to Scorpius' abandoned bag. 'Harry,' she called over her shoulder. 'Teddy's here!'
'Ow.' Teddy rubbed his head next to his ear. 'You're awfully loud for someone so small.'
'You think Lily gets it from Harry?' Ginny snorted.
'She might.' Teddy grinned at Ginny. 'Have you ever heard him chewing out a group of trainees for not working well together? Can hear him all the way on the other side of Level Two. Scares the hell out of 'em. He's so quiet normally.'
'Staying for dinner, Teddy?' Harry asked, walking into the sitting room, a sheaf of parchment in his hands.
Teddy heaved a put-upon sigh. 'We've been through this, Harry. I don't cook. I can't cook. Gran's tried to teach me. Molly's tried. You've tried. Ginny's tried. Fleur's tried. Even Ron tried to teach me after I finished school. I can barely make toast. I nearly burned down the flat when Vic came round for dinner last month. And all I was doing was trying to boil some ruddy water for tea.'
'I hope to Merlin she can cook,' Harry sighed. 'Otherwise you two might as well move in here, with Andromeda, or with Bill and Fleur. You'll starve otherwise.'
'Probably,' Teddy agreed genially. 'I can hardly make sandwiches.'
'Wait.' Ginny held a hand up. 'Explain that one.'
'They're either too soggy, too dry, too much on them, not enough on them.' Teddy shrugged. 'It's a total mystery.'
'Yeah, even the Department of Mysteries can't figure that one out.' Harry went to the bottom of the stairs. 'Lily! Come down here and set the table for dinner.'
Lily trudged down the stairs, and disappeared into the kitchen, without so much as a wave toward Teddy. Teddy gestured toward Lily's disappearing back. 'What's going on with her?'
Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist. 'Just realizing that life isn't like her fairy tales,' he said. 'She'll come round.' He paused. 'I hope.'
After dinner, Scorpius presented James, Al, and Lily with their gifts. He noticed that while Al and James ripped excitedly into theirs, Lily took it with a listless word of thanks, and set it in her lap, making no attempt to open it. He'd given James a set of Chaser's gloves -- fingerless to maximize the ability of the player to grip the ball, but charmed to keep the wearer's hands from sweating. They were also specially designed for the student player. The gloves would grow with James, and he would still be able to use them his seventh year. For Al, Scorpius had found a model Quidditch pitch with two miniscule teams. He could play by himself, pitting each team against each other, or another person could direct the other team.
Harry noticed Lily, sitting quietly, her hands folded in her lap, the gift untouched. 'Lily? Aren't you going to open yours?'
Lily shrugged. 'I'll open it later.'
It bordered on insolence, as far as Harry was concerned. He looked at Ginny and she gathered the boys together, taking them into the kitchen for hot chocolate. Harry beckoned to Lily. 'Lily, when someone gives you a gift, you're supposed to say thank you. This is not how you treat a guest in our home.' Lily's wide eyes glittered mutinously, but Harry continued. 'You need to open that gift, and thank Scorpius for it, even if you don't like it. He's obviously spent a great deal of time and effort to find something for you.'
'I don't want to open it right now,' Lily protested.
Harry restrained himself from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the incipient headache. 'Then you need to go to your room.'
Lily grabbed the package and ran up the stairs. She didn't slam the door this time, but all the same, she closed it with an audible bang.
Teddy leaned back against the sofa cushions. Lily had been distant to Scorpius all night, and Scorpius had noticed. Teddy hadn't missed the brief flash of hurt confusion when Lily refused to open her gift. It didn't tally with what he'd observed of the way Lily had treated Scorpius over the summer. Then, she'd been the polite, bubbly child he'd always known her to be, not this glowering shadow. True, Lily had a temper, but like Ginny, it burned quickly and petered out as quickly as it flared.
Teddy slid off the sofa and headed toward the stairs. 'Harry, do you mind...?' he asked, gesturing up toward the upper floor, and swiftly went up the stairs, without waiting for Harry to answer him.
James, Al, and Scorpius trooped back into the sitting room in front of Ginny, who levitated a tray loaded with biscuits and hot chocolate. 'Where's Lily?' Scorpius asked levelly.
'Upstairs,' Harry said. Scorpius just nodded, his normally expressive grey eyes shuttered.
James and Al exchanged looks and bolted after Teddy. 'We're going to get that game Uncle George gave us,' James shot over his shoulder.
'It takes both of you?' Ginny asked.
'Yes.' Al's reply floated down the stairs.
Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them, smiling kindly at Scorpius, whose face was carefully blank. It was an air Ginny recognized from Harry's younger days. 'What did I do?' he asked almost plaintively
She touched his shoulder. 'You didn't do anything,' she told him firmly. 'It's just something Lily needs to work out.'
Teddy knocked on Lily's door. 'Lily?' No answer. He knocked harder. 'Lils?'
'Go away,' she said sullenly.
'Seriously, she's been like that all bloody weekend,' James said behind Teddy.
He looked at James and Al standing on the landing of the stairs. 'Blimey,' he said mildly. 'I didn't expect her to go hormonal on me until she was your age, James.'
James' mouth opened. 'Hey!' he protested. 'I'm not that bad.'
'Yeah, right,' snorted Al. 'When Mum and Dad took your broom away the summer before I started school, you sulked for two straight days.'
'I did not!'
'Did, too,' Al retorted.
'Can we focus here?' Teddy sighed, interrupting the sibling spat. 'You two go back down stairs, and entertain Scorpius. Lily and I need to have a chat.'
'Fine,' mumbled James. 'C'mon, Al,' he said, tugging on Al's arm. 'Let's go show Scorpius the new game we got from Uncle George.' Al reluctantly let James tow him down the stairs.
Teddy waited until their footsteps faded and he heard their voices excitedly begin to explain how the murder-mystery game worked. 'Lily? They're gone. May I come in?' He experimentally twisted the doorknob, and the door swung open. Lily perched in the window seat, twisting the one of the ears of her beloved stuffed bunny. Teddy went to sit next to her. 'Hey, now. You don't want to make Cadbury there lopsided, do you?' She shrugged. Teddy frowned. Lily normally had a personality as vivid as her hair. This was not the Lily he considered his baby sister. She twisted the ear harder, and Teddy winced. He'd given her the bunny on her third birthday. He laid a hand on her wrist, and she stilled the incessant coiling of the ear around her hand. He hefted Lily into his lap, his hair fading to its natural sandy brown. 'What's wrong, pumpkin?'
Lily shook her head, the ends of her plaits brushing against Teddy's hands. 'Nothing.'
'Hey.' Teddy tilted up Lily's chin. 'You've never treated Scorpius like that before. That was rude, Lils.'
Lily scowled at Teddy. 'He...' She bit her lip and blew out a breath, shaking her head. 'His grandfather did something bad to Mum when she was in school,' she explained haltingly.
'Ohhhh.' Teddy nodded. 'The diary?'
'How did you know?' Lily looked up at Teddy in amazement.
'My dad kept journals.' At Lily's confused expression he elaborated, 'That's a diary to you chicks. He taught Defense the year after that and your mum was having a rough time in class. He managed to get her to talk about it. It was affecting her ability to defend herself. Riddle got into her mind pretty good. Took her a good couple of years to get through it.
'Anyway, I found all of Dad's journals in the attic of Gran's house when I was James' age. I'd take one, read it, and put it back, then get another one.' Teddy shrugged. 'But I still don't understand why you're so distant with Scorp.'
'It was his grandfather,' Lily repeated, as if that explained it all. 'It was like he didn't care about what might happen to Mum.'
Teddy sighed. 'Lily, has Scorp ever done anything remotely hurtful to anybody in this family?'
'No,' she admitted. 'But he's related to someone that's so...' Lily trailed off searching for a word. 'Nasty,' she finished.
'So am I,' Teddy said quietly. Lily's eyes widened in shock, and all the air in her lungs exhaled in an audible whoosh. Teddy smirked mirthlessly. 'Yeah. My gran and Scorpius' gran are sisters. And one of Voldemort's, Riddle's -- whatever you want to call him -- biggest supporters was their older sister. She was part of his inner circle. Neville -- his parents died in St. Mungo's a couple of years after I started school. They'd been tortured into insanity and dementia by her.' Teddy gulped. 'Neville never held it against me being related to her,' he continued softly. 'Just because you happen to be related to someone doesn't mean you'll share their beliefs.'
Teddy stopped to take a deep breath. 'Scorpius doesn't deserve for you to be so unfriendly to him. He's had a difficult life because of his father and grandfather's actions. You usually don't disappoint me like this, pumpkin.' Teddy kissed the top of Lily's head, softening his words a bit. He slid Lily back to the cushion on the window seat and left.
Lily looked at the gaily wrapped package she'd tossed to the middle of her bed. She picked it up, and slid a fingertip under the edge of the wrapping paper. A book fell into her hands and she turned it over a few times, before taking it back to the window seat.
Lily lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She was hungry. She'd picked at her dinner and refused the pudding. It was quiet and still in the house. She shoved the bedding away and found her slippers and dressing gown. Tiptoeing down the kitchen, she stopped short upon finding Scorpius sitting at the table, a mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of him, a book in his hands. He looked up at her. 'I don't know what I did,' he began uncertainly.
'You didn't do it,' she stated flatly.
'Then why are you ignoring me?'
'I'm not ignoring you!'
'Oh, really?' he snorted. 'So what do you call what you've been doing to me ever since I walked in the door this afternoon?'
'I don't want to be mad at you,' Lily said, marching to a jar on the counter, and digging out a handful of biscuits.
'That doesn't make sense.'
'Your grandfather,' Lily almost spat. 'He hurt my mum.'
'Oh.' Scorpius ransacked his memories. 'I didn't know...' he murmured.
Tears streaked down Lily's face. 'I can't help it. I look at you, but all I can think about is...' She dropped into a chair across the table from Scorpius, and munched her biscuits. They were both silent for several long minutes. Scorpius stared at the same page, the words ceasing to make sense. Lily cleared her throat. 'I like the book,' she offered softly. 'It's funny.' She was silent for a moment, and got up to get another handful of biscuits. 'Thank you.' She pushed the handful of biscuits to the middle of the table in mute offering.
Scorpius looked up from the page of his book. 'You're welcome,' he told her quietly, taking one of the biscuits.
TWENTY TWO -- Meetings and Destinations
Harry set the parchment down on his desk. It held a list of the former Death Eaters on probation. Two weeks after the boys went back to school, they would come into his office, one by one, and he would perform Legilimency on them. As always, Draco Malfoy was on the bottom of the list -- the last person of the day. Harry often wondered if it would be easier to do Draco first and get it over with, rather than fret and stew the whole day about it.
He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his gritty eyes. Closer to home, there were more worries. Lily hadn't managed a repeat of her performance with Scorpius on Boxing Day, but she'd held him at arm's length since. Poor Scorpius was terribly confused by her behavior, and Al and James were at a loss to explain it. Ginny had pulled Lily aside yesterday and tried to explain to Lily that she was being unreasonable; Scorpius had nothing to do with what had happened to Ginny. Harry wasn't surprised. Lily was acting just like he had in the past. It had been terribly difficult for him to see Andromeda as something other than a relative of Bellatrix Lestrange at first. He slumped down, so his head rested on the desk. People often assumed Lily's somewhat volatile temper came from her mother. That was true to a certain extent.
But Harry knew otherwise.
He normally kept a rather tight rein on his temper publicly, so most people didn't know or had forgotten he could get rather explosive when provoked. He could also hold a grudge longer than most people lived. And Lily was in the process of working herself into holding a grudge against an innocent boy. Harry knew better than to try and make Lily see reason. As far as she was concerned, reason didn't exist right now, and it would be better for her to come to terms with Scorpius on her own time.
'Dad?' Harry squinted at the figure standing in the doorway. He was unable to make out the features, but it had black hair, and was too tall to be Al.
'Yes, James?'
'Could we stay up late tonight?' James asked, a hopeful expression on his face.
'How late?' Harry countered.
'Midnight?'
'Make it eleven.'
'But Dad... It's the last day of the holiday!' James protested.
Harry slid his glasses back over his nose. 'Yes, and you lot have to get up early tomorrow and catch the train back to school.'
'Don't see why we can't take the Knight Bus...' James grumbled.
'You could,' Harry agreed. 'If you didn't get sick so much.' The few times the Potters had used the Knight Bus, James spent the entire trip throwing up into a paper bag.
'Dad, that was a long time ago.'
'That was last summer when we went to watch the Ireland-Ukraine match.'
James waved off the minor detail. 'That was July. Months ago.'
'You, Al, and Scorpius will take the train, and that's my final answer, James. And don't bother going to pester your mother, either,' Harry added, seeing a calculating look come over his son's face.
'How'd you know I was going to ask Mum?' James asked suspiciously.
Harry snickered. 'You look just like your uncles George and Fred when they got an idea going. Your mum, too, come to think of it. I've seen that look way too many times.'
'Why does everyone in this family have to look like someone else in this family?' James groused.
'Bad luck all around, I suppose.' Harry shoved the parchment into his desk drawer, and stood up, slinging an arm around James' shoulders. 'Consider yourself lucky you didn't get red hair.'
'Yeah, but I got yours,' retorted James darkly.
'Sorry, about that. I wouldn't have wished it on my worst enemy.' Harry kissed James' forehead, making him squirm. 'DNA's a bitch if you're a Potter or a Weasley, and you got it on both ends, kiddo.'
'Blech.' James wiped his forehead, making a comically disgusted face at his father. 'Don't do that!'
'I expect all of you to be in bed at eleven, all right?'
'Fine,' James sighed in defeat.
'And make sure you get your things packed up before dinner. You don't want your mum to fuss at you in the morning, do you?'
'Merlin's sagging -- ' James bit off what he was going say. 'No.' He blew out a gusty breath. 'Between you and me, Dad, when she gets going, not even a Stunner would stop her.'
Harry herded James to the stairs. 'She gets it honestly. You should have heard your grandmum in her prime.'
'I've heard her now, thanks,' James said, going up the stairs. 'Hey, Al, Scorpius!' he shouted. 'If we get our things packed up now, Dad says we can stay up until eleven!'
'That's not -- ' Harry started to object, but stopped. Shrugging, he went into the kitchen to help Ginny with dinner. If it got the boys to get their things ready before they got up in the morning, who was he to complain?
Lily stood quietly on the platform, waiting for the train to leave. Normally, she would have been standing on the edge, waving furiously to her brothers, but she was watching Teddy and Scorpius. Teddy had given her a lot to think about, and while she understood Teddy was related to Lucius Malfoy, he wasn't Teddy's grandfather. But he was Scorpius'. It was that relationship that made her wary of Scorpius. She was having a hard time letting go of the fact that her parents had nearly died at the hands of Lucius Malfoy.
'Lily?' Scorpius' hesitant voice broke through her thoughts. She blinked and spun around. Teddy was standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder. 'Um... Have a good term at school,' he blurted, and dashed for the train.
'Bye...' she called after him. He threw a glance over his shoulder and gave her a small wave. Teddy trailed after him to the edge of the platform, and waved vigorously, as the train began to move and slowly chugged out of sight. He turned back to Lily as the scarlet train disappeared.
'Hey, pumpkin,' he said. 'Kneazle got your tongue?' Lily mutely shook her head. Lily was still small enough for Teddy to sling her onto his back. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. 'So, given any thought to what we talked about the other night?' he asked, twisting his head to look at her.
'Uh-huh.'
'So?'
'It's not the same, Teddy,' she explained with a patient air. 'He wasn't your grandfather.' She settled against his back. 'Except for Scorpius and his mother and grandmother, nobody in that family even talks to you.'
Teddy snorted. 'The only ones left in the family are Scorpius, Narcissa, Daphne, and Draco. And from what Gran tells me, Narcissa says Draco barely even talks to Scorp.' He shifted Lily into a more comfortable grip. 'Frankly, I'm better off. Gran was full of stories about them growing up. You know, she ran away when she married my grandfather. If she hadn't, Lucius Malfoy would have been my grandfather.'
'Ewww.'
'Exactly,' Teddy agreed. Teddy squeezed one of Lily's ankles. 'Lighten up on the kid, will you? I'm pretty sure he doesn't know anything about it.'
'How do you know that?'
'I've heard him talking with Al and James. And since they don't know about this, all three of them are confused.' Teddy could feel Lily heave a sigh as it stirred his hair.
'What should I do? If Scorpius asks?'
Teddy stopped near the entrance back into King's Cross, waiting for Harry and Ginny to finish their conversation with Hermione and Ron. 'I don't know, pumpkin,' he admitted. 'That's up to you and Gin.'
'You're a lot of help,' Lily scoffed.
'I try,' Teddy said with a smile.
'Hey, Lils,' Harry said, tugging on one of her plaits. 'How about we take the Tube over to the Leaky Cauldron and have some lunch? Maybe Neville will still be there.' Lily adored Neville, and he doted on Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione's children. Neville and Hannah hadn't been able to have children, but it hadn't been for lack of trying. They had both been rather sanguine publicly about it all, but Harry knew it had been difficult for them both. He still held a scrap of hope that someday things would work for the two of them. Neville often joked as the Head of Gryffindor, he had several children, but he got to skip all the toilet-training and terrible twos.
'Okay,' Lily said, sliding down Teddy's back to the ground. 'Wanna come with us, Teddy?'
'I'd love to, but I have to get back to work. I just came to see the boys off. I can come round for dinner, though,' he added cheekily.
'Teddy, we keep a place set for you.' Ginny had bid farewell to Ron and Hermione and walked to where her husband and daughter stood. She rose on her toes to kiss Teddy's cheek, and she, Lily, and Harry went through the entrance, while Teddy Disapparated to the Ministry.
Harry took Lily's hand as they meandered their way to the correct platform. 'Maybe we can stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies, and start looking for a good broom for you. Or we can go to the shop, and see what your uncles have out for the post-holiday sale.'
'Actually, I need to stop at Flourish and Blotts,' Ginny said. 'Could we fit that in while we're here?'
'Sure,' Harry said cheerfully, looking around for the platform number. Suddenly he froze, a look of utter horror on his face. 'Bloody, effing shite,' he muttered, feeling the blood drain from his face.
'Dad!' Lily exclaimed.
'Harry, do you feel all right?' Ginny asked, trying to feel his forehead for fever.
'I'm fine,' he growled, irritably shaking Ginny's hand off. 'Come on,' he said pulling Lily along by the hand, walking faster.
'Ruddy freaks with owls,' floated an infuriated voice Ginny recognized from her one encounter with it nearly twenty years ago.
'Oh, bloody hell,' she sighed, patting her pocket for her wand.
'Vernon, this way,' a second voice joined the first one, nasally, but no less annoyed than the first.
'Ow. Dad, you're hurting my arm,' protested Lily.
Harry stopped walking and loosened his grip on Lily's hand. 'Sorry, sweetie,' he sighed, looking down at her hand, rubbing at the reddened areas where his hand had tightened around her fingers. He dropped a kiss on the back of her hand. 'There you go. All better,' he said distractedly.
Lily looked up at the couple who had come to a dead stop in front of her and her parents. The man was large and beefy with a walrus-like graying moustache. The woman was thin with a mouth full of overly large teeth and a long, nearly rectangular face. The woman looked at her with a strange look on her face. She felt a hand land on her shoulder, and knew it belonged to her father. She backed up a few steps until she bumped into his legs. 'What's your name?' the rather horsy looking woman demanded.
'Lily,' she blurted.
The woman looked at Harry. 'You named her Lily?' she asked.
'Yeah, I did.' Harry looked at Vernon and Petunia Dursley. The past twenty years had not been kind to them. He blinked a few times and realized he felt...
Nothing.
No rage. No anger. Not even pain or regret. He felt a small smile curve his lips, and slid his arm around Ginny's shoulders.
'So you're still married to her, I assume,' Petunia sniffed disdainfully.
Harry felt the smile twist wryly. 'Yes. This is my wife, Ginny.'
'We've met,' Vernon huffed.
'You have?' Harry felt his eyebrows drift up in surprise.
'I'll explain later,' Ginny said in an undertone. 'And this is our daughter, Lily,' she said in a louder voice. 'Pity, you just missed our boys. They're on their way back to school.'
'More freaks?' Vernon ground out.
'We're not freaks!' piped up Lily.
'Children ought to keep their mouths shut,' growled Vernon.
'Don't speak to my daughter that way,' Harry said quietly, an undercurrent of steel in his voice. It made Vernon blink.
'Harry?' A new voice joined the tense knot of people. 'Is that you?'
Harry's head swiveled around. Dudley was walking toward them, obviously meeting his parents. 'Dudley,' he said shortly.
Dudley extended a hand to Ginny. 'You must be Ginny,' he said warmly. 'The photographs don't do you justice.' He knelt on the floor of the station, eye-level with Lily. 'And you must be Lily,' he said, offering his hand to her. 'I'm Dudley,' he said.
'Oh! You're Dad's cousin. The one who sends the cards at Christmas.' Lily looked up at Dudley. 'Dad makes us take a Muggle photograph to send to you.'
'Ah. The one this year was nice,' Dudley told her. 'You look just like your mum,' he added.
'Thanks,' Lily replied with a smile.
'We should get going,' Dudley said, looking up at his parents. 'It was nice to meet you,' he said to Lily, rising to his feet. 'And you,' he added to Ginny. 'It was good to see you, Harry,' Dudley said sincerely. 'Maybe next time you're in London, we can get together for coffee or something.' He held out a large hand to Harry, and after a moment, Harry grasped it, and the two men stood there for a moment. They released each other's hand, and Dudley smiled at Harry, Ginny, and Lily, before turning to his parents and gently herding them toward an exit.
'Well, that was unexpected,' Ginny said softly.
'You can say that again,' Harry murmured.
They stood there in silence, watching the retreating forms of the Dursleys vanish into a crowd of people. 'Well, shall we?' Ginny proposed, gesturing toward the platform for the train that would take them down to Charing Cross Road.
On the ride to Charing Cross, Ginny touched the back of Harry's neck. 'Are you all right?'
He gazed at her for a moment. 'I am,' he replied. When Ginny's look of concern turned skeptical, he repeated, 'Really, Gin, I'm fine.' He smiled at her reassuringly. 'They don't matter anymore.'
'I thought Dudley was married...' Ginny mused.
'He is. Back when Lily was about two, I think. But Petunia and Vernon like to pretend Aaron doesn't exist. He doesn't fit their idea of what's "proper". I'm sure Petunia was thrilled when her Ickle Diddydums turned out to be a pouf.' Harry sighed. 'I'm not sure which is worse. The outright disapproval, like they did with me, or that subtle shite they do with Dudley and Aaron.'
'And you know this how...?' Ginny asked.
'He's mentioned it a time or two,' Harry admitted. 'We've gone from just cards at Christmas to exchanging letters a couple times a year.'
'Oh, okay.' Ginny idly watched as the walls of the tunnel flew by. 'That's good.'
'You think so?'
'Yes, I do. You two may not be best friends, but you have to admit, he's not the same person you grew up with.'
'True enough,' Harry agreed.
Harry watched Neville sit with Lily at the end of the bar inside the Leaky Cauldron. He was telling her stories about a toad named Trevor and all his adventures. Harry was sure most of them were what Neville imagined happened to his venturesome toad at school. 'It really is a shame,' he commented to Ginny. 'He and Hannah should have had a Quidditch team's worth of little ones.'
'Yeah,' Ginny sighed. 'I wonder what happened with that.'
'With what?' asked Hannah, setting their lunches down on the table. 'I gave Lily hers at the bar with Neville.'
'Oh, nothing,' Ginny said smoothly. 'We ran into Harry's Muggle relations at King's Cross.'
'I'll bet that was a laugh riot,' Hannah responded dryly. She knew about the Dursleys from Neville.
'Can't wait to do it again,' Harry responded, picking up his fork. 'If it happens in another twenty years, it'll be twenty years too soon.'
Neville and Lily joined them later, Lily sporting an impressive orange pumpkin juice moustache staining her upper lip. 'I have to get back to the school,' he told Hannah. 'I'll see you at dinner?' Hannah nodded, and Neville kissed her on the cheek, before he turned to Harry and Ginny. 'I hope you had a talk with your boys over the holiday,' he said to them.
'About what?' Ginny asked apprehensively.
'Their Quidditch game,' Neville said seriously. 'I've had that cup in my office for the past three years. I fully expect to keep it this year.' He grinned at them, and left the main room of the pub, to the private office that had a Floo connection from the pub to his and Hannah's quarters at Hogwarts.
'He's starting to sound like Minerva,' Ginny commented. 'I wonder if it's something in the water...'
Lily sat alone in the backseat of the car, looking forlorn without her brothers crowding the seat on either side of her. 'Dad?'
'Yes, Lily?'
'Who were those people in the station?'
'My Muggle relatives,' he replied, his eyes glued to the highway in front of them. 'My mum's sister and her husband. And their son. I lived with them after my parents died from the age of one until I was seventeen. Except when I was at Hogwarts, of course.'
'They're not very nice,' Lily pronounced. 'Dudley seemed all right, though,' she amended.
'No, Lils, they're not the nicest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.'
'Why are they like that?' she asked. 'They were mean.'
'I don't know,' Harry said. 'They just don't like things to be different.'
'Why did that big man call us freaks?'
Harry sighed, and glanced in the rearview mirror at Lily. 'Some people like to call other people names. It makes them feel better about themselves.'
'I don't understand...' Lily began.
'You know how Regina McLeod at school makes fun of your freckles?' Ginny asked Lily.
'Yes.'
'She's not in a good way, so she's trying to make you feel like she does,' Ginny explained, twisting around in her seat to face Lily.
'So that man calls us freaks because...?' Lily persisted.
'Oh, who knows?' Harry grumbled. 'Maybe Petunia's still forcing him to eat a quarter of a grapefruit for breakfast. Or perhaps the elastic in his Y-fronts is shot. Or maybe Petunia's used too much starch in them.' He glared at the highway. 'Or maybe he hasn't had a decent shag in nearly forty years,' he mumbled under his breath.
'I heard that,' Ginny chided, amused.
'But you're a good dad,' Lily said, sliding forward in the seat, so her head bobbed between Harry and Ginny's. 'If they were so nasty, how could you be so nice?'
'I have no idea, Lily. Just lucky, I suppose.'
'Then how did Dudley turn out to be so nice?'
'He wasn't always nice,' Harry said neutrally. 'He was a right git when we were kids.'
'What do you mean?'
'Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?' Harry asked his daughter.
'No,' Lily said promptly. 'Why was he a git?'
'He used to call me names, slap me around when he was bored. Bullied me quite a lot.' Harry was surprised to find it didn't make his heart twist to say it anymore.
'What happened?' Lily rested her chin on the back of Ginny's seat, so she could look at Harry.
'He got a chance to see how other people saw him,' Harry said softly. 'It took a couple of years, but he managed to change for the better. It's a rare gift to be able to do that.'
'Who's Aaron?'
'His partner,' Ginny replied.
'What's that?' Lily asked.
'Uh... Like Gareth and Rafa,' Ginny said.
'Oh, okay,' Lily said, satisfied with the answer. She had known Gareth and Rafa her entire life.
'Anything else?' Ginny asked.
'Not right now.' Lily settled into her seat again.
'When did you meet the Dursleys?' Harry asked. He slid into bed, and turned out the light, plunging the bedroom into darkness. The ceiling began to glow with charmed starlight.
'Before we were married,' Ginny confessed.
'How did you manage that?'
'You don't want to know,' Ginny murmured.
'Yes, I do.'
Ginny sat up and looked down at Harry. 'Do we have to do this now?'
'It's as good a time as any.'
'You're not going to let it go, are you?'
'No.'
'Do you remember the night we were making up the list of people to invite to our wedding?'
'Yeah,' Harry said warily.
'Do you remember what happened?'
'Vaguely,' Harry acknowledged. 'It was a long time ago.'
'I asked about them. The Dursleys. And you got... Well, not shirty, but rather unhappy, and drank quite a lot of Firewhisky in the process of telling me about growing up with them,' she said, matter-of-factly.
'All right,' Harry said slowly.
'I went to Surrey after I put you to bed that night,' Ginny confessed in a whisper.
'You did what?' Harry nearly shouted.
'Harry, it was twenty years ago,' Ginny beseeched.
'Why, Ginny? Why would go there to see them?' Harry demanded.
'I needed to see them,' she said. 'I needed to...' Ginny trailed off helplessly. 'Someone had to confront them!' she burst out. 'They were horrible people who abused you and you came through to the other side. Someone had to tell them you succeeded. In spite of them.' Ginny grew quiet. 'And I had to go see for myself,' she added nearly inaudibly. Harry threw back the bedclothes and got out of the bed. 'Where are you going?' she asked.
'Downstairs,' Harry said shortly. He stopped with one hand on the doorknob. 'You had no right to do that, Ginny.'
'I had every right,' she retorted.
Harry said nothing, but opened the door, and just barely refrained from slamming it, lest he wake Lily.
Ginny flopped back into bed. 'Arse,' she muttered darkly. Harry was more stubborn that Ron sometimes.
After dinner, Scorpius went up to the second year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Lily had said something the other night that had been bothering him since then. Something about his grandfather Malfoy. He knew his father wouldn't say anything, and it was highly probable his mother knew less than he did. But Narcissa might know enough to explain to him why Lily had been so aloof to him. He climbed into his bed, and drew the curtains around it. He didn't want to have to answer questions about this letter he was about to send to his grandmother.
2 January 2019
Dear Grandmother,
I arrived at school in one piece. The trip up was uneventful and Geoffery and his lot left me alone, thankfully.
So, I have something I need to ask you, Grandmother. I think you're the only one who can give me an answer. The night I went to the Potters', Lily said something about Grandfather doing something to her mother. I thought Teddy might know something, but I couldn't get him alone to even try to ask.
I know Grandfather didn't really like the Weasleys, or the Potters, but what did he do to them that would have done something bad to Mrs. Potter? Lily is upset. At me. Because of Grandfather, and I want to know why, so I can try to make it up to her.
I'll write again soon, and let you know how my classes are going, and I'll see you at the Easter holiday.
Love,
Scorpius
He sealed the letter and laid it on his bedside table. He would take it down to the Owlery in the morning. He wondered if Narcissa would actually answer his questions. His parents and grandparents had been exceedingly close-mouthed about their roles in the war. Not for the first time, Scorpius envied James, Al, and Rosie, and the other Weasleys. Their parents had told them quite a lot last Christmas, and had promised to tell them more, if they needed it. Harry had explained what that rather odd-looking tattoo was on his father's arm was, and from the looks of it, Scorpius could only assume he had been on the bad side. Scorpius had tried to look it up just what the design was in the library last year, but hadn't gotten very far. He'd been too shy to ask for help, even from Rosie, who had learned the library backwards and forwards by the end of the first month.
Scorpius turned on his side, and stared at the letter. Not for the first time in his life, he wondered just what it was that his father felt he had to hide.
TWENTY THREE -- Chasm
Narcissa was in the process of packing to return to Nice, firmly rebuffing the efforts of Perri, the house-elf, to help. Over the last two decades, Narcissa had grown to appreciate doing things for herself without having to rely on others. She closed the single bag she had brought with her from France, and set it next to the door of the bedroom she used in Wiltshire. Narcissa began to rummage in the desk for the letter with the details of her International Portkey, when an owl tapped on the window. She recognized the barn owl from the school that Scorpius generally used and opened the window. 'Perri!' she called, as she took the letter from the owl.
'Yes, miss?' The elf appeared in the middle of the bedroom floor with a crack.
Narcissa jumped at the noise and sudden appearance of the elf, and handed the owl to Perri. 'Could you please take her to the kitchen and give her some food and water?' Perri took the owl with alacrity, visibly delighted at having something to do. Narcissa pitied the elf at times. She was only there, because Draco felt the family ought to have one. None of them really needed her a great deal, as Daphne preferred to do most of the housekeeping herself. Mostly Perri cooked, since Daphne was more of a serviceable cook, and not very proficient at the gourmet sort of cooking Draco liked, and Draco had never learned. As soon as Perri left the room, Narcissa quietly closed the door.
She turned the envelope over in her hands. Narcissa knew Scorpius had promised to write his mother to let her know he'd arrived at school safely, but somehow she didn't think this was it. With a feeling of apprehension, she opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter inside.
She read it slowly, her hands trembling. Narcissa considered confronting Draco about it, but that would drive him to seek solace in a bottle, something he did far too often for Narcissa's taste. She opened a drawer of the desk and found a supply of parchment, quills, and ink. She wrote steadily to Scorpius for some time, rereading what she had written, and crossing out some things, while leaving in others. She tried to answer his questions as honestly as she could, but there were several things about which even Narcissa knew nothing. She copied the letter onto a clean sheet of parchment, knowing Scorpius would never be able to read the much blotched and crossed-out original.
Narcissa carefully sealed and address the letter, and took it down to the kitchen. Daphne was setting the small table in the corner of the kitchen. 'Draco's not here tonight, so I thought we could be informal and eat down here, if that's all right with you.'
'It's fine. Would you mind if I borrowed your owl?'
'Not at all. Who's it for?'
'Scorpius.' Narcissa tied the letter to the owl's leg and sent her off to Hogwarts. 'Where is Draco? I didn't hear him leave.'
'He went to have dinner with my brother Ian.'
'Is that wise?' Narcissa blurted before she could stop herself. 'I mean with all the investigations going on...'
Daphne looked up from the serviette she was folding. 'It's fine. Ian's actually one of the few people Draco knows that isn't under constant surveillance by the Aurors. At least not yet... He's all talk. Always has been, and always will be. Not the type to get his hands dirty by doing anything. For any side.' she said scornfully.
'I'd have thought you would have appreciated that quality. Kept him out of Azkaban.' Narcissa helped Perri serve dinner. 'Why did you go into Slytherin?'
Daphne shrugged. 'Didn't fit in anywhere else. It was where the rest of my family had gone.' She settled into a chair, and spread the serviette over her lap. 'But it's quite all right for Draco to have dinner with Ian. He'll have his watchdog trailing after him.' Daphne picked up her wineglass and took a sip. 'And Draco knows just one tiny slip-up will send him to Azkaban in a heartbeat. I don't think he could handle the humiliation,' she said apologetically.
Narcissa joined Daphne at the table. 'Could I ask you something?'
'Of course.'
'Do you remember anything happening to Ginny Potter in school?'
Daphne gave Narcissa a questioning look, but replied, 'Not especially. She was a year behind me, so we didn't have classes together. She was caught breaking into the headmaster's office my seventh year. Got a load of detentions with Snape because of that.'
'Nothing else?'
'No. Why do you ask?'
'Just wondering,' Narcissa said. 'It's just with Scorpius spending so much time with the Potters; things that happened in the war are bound to come up. I thought we might figure out how much to tell him.'
'About Lucius and Draco?' Daphne asked sharply.
'Yes.'
'He's never asked me anything,' Daphne said slowly. 'And truth be told, I don't know much about what Draco did.'
'He's never told you?'
Daphne laughed sardonically. 'We don't have that kind of marriage,' she snorted mirthlessly. 'Not even in the beginning.'
Narcissa used her fork to push sprouts around her plate. 'So if Scorpius wants the full story, he's going to have to ask his father,' she sighed. 'And I don't see that happening any time soon.'
Daphne pushed her plate aside. 'Why bring this up now? Why not last year before he started school?'
'Because he's asked about something Lucius did.'
'That's what that letter was, wasn't it?' Narcissa nodded. 'What did you say?'
Scorpius trudged back into his dormitory, dressed for bed, carrying his toiletry kit in one hand, and his damp towel in the other. He tossed the kit on his bed, then hung the towel over a screen around the stove that kept the circular room warm. 'You've gotten an owl,' said Max, one of his year mates, looking up from a book printed with odd, squiggly writing.
Scorpius looked up at one of the windows, and his mother's tawny owl stood patiently, waiting for him to retrieve his letter. 'Thanks,' he told her, offering her a drink of water from the glass that sat on his night table. He looked down at the envelope, noting it was from Narcissa. The owl hooted softly, and nibbled his hair, then flew out of the window. He turned and stowed the letter in his night table to read later.
'Are you going to read that?' asked Max, pausing his mumbling in a language Scorpius didn't understand. Max spent a portion of every night obsessively repeating the same thing over and over, while wearing a small, flat, circular cap on the back of his head. 'If my mum or gran sent me a letter and I didn't reply right away, they'd send another one the next day, spreading the guilt so thick you could eat it on toast.'
'I'll read it later,' Scorpius said noncommittally.
'That must be nice,' muttered Max, going back to his book.
When Scorpius heard the sounds of the others settling into sleep, he poked his head from the hangings of his bed, and slowly opened the drawer of his night table and pulled the letter out.
3 January 2019
Dear Scorpius,
I knew one day you would ask about your grandfather. It's bound to come up at some point, especially if you take History of Magic through your N.E.W.T. year, I suppose. I'll have to warn you that I don't know much about what your grandfather and father did. I know about some things, but I don't know all the details. There are a few things I can tell you about, since I was directly involved, like the war itself.
Your grandfather was a member of a group of people who supported a very Dark wizard, who called himself "Lord Voldemort". Some people still refer to him as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". And there are still some people who refer to him by his given name, Tom Riddle. At any rate, this group called themselves "Death Eaters". Your grandfather was one of his most loyal supporters. Your father was forced to join when he was sixteen, because Lucius was thrown into Azkaban for breaking into the Ministry, and Draco was hand-picked to take his father's place.
To be fair to your father, Draco didn't want to join the Death Eaters. Or at least I don't think he wanted to. He didn't have much of a choice. All Death Eaters were marked with a tattoo of sorts -- a skull with a snake protruding from the mouth. I'm not sure if you've ever seen it on your father's arm; he always wears long sleeves.
Death Eaters didn't like Muggles. Or Muggle-born witches and wizards. Or half-bloods. Which is rather ironic, since Voldemort himself was a half-blood. He had a Muggle father. And they particularly hated pureblood witches and wizards who didn't think blood status was everything. Like the Weasleys. Or Andromeda.
As to your specific question, I honestly don't know. There were things Lucius did that I didn't know about. He didn't always confide in me. I think he thought it was safer that way. Death Eaters didn't trust anyone. Not even their spouses. And if he was doing anything illegal, I could, in all honesty, claim ignorance. I suppose that way, if he was ever arrested, Draco would still have one parent. And I'm not entirely sure your father knows anything about that either. Lucius tended to keep Draco in the dark, as well, for as long as he could.
I think you have two options, Scorpius. You can either ask Mrs. Potter directly, or you can ask Teddy what he knows. You do deserve to know your history.
What you do not deserve is the blame for something you did not do -- to be lumped in with the rest of the family, especially if you don't believe what they did. That being said, I do understand how young Lily feels. It is very, very difficult to separate people from their families. It takes a great deal of sophisticated thought to do that. But if I were to guess, I would suppose that Lily just found out about it, and it still trying to sort herself out. Give her some time. She'll come to realize you're the same person you were before this. But in no way do you need to apologize to her or try to make anything up to her. None of it is your fault.
Love,
Grandmother
Ginny woke up from an uneasy sleep. It was still dark outside. Even without looking at Harry's side of the bed, she knew he wasn't there. She got up and wrapped her dressing gown around her body, and went down into the kitchen. Harry sat at the table, a cup of tea cradled between his hands. He pointedly ignored Ginny, getting up and leaving when she sat down. Sighing, she trailed after him, following him to the office. 'Stop following me,' he snarled, yanking the bottom drawer of the desk open. 'I really don't want to talk to you right now.'
'Harry, I...'
'Don't,' he said shortly. 'Not right now.' He spread the paperwork over his desk. 'Close the door on your way out,' he said, clearly in dismissal.
Ginny inhaled sharply and pivoted on her heel, and left, slamming the door. She stalked up the stairs and threw on her clothes. She stomped back down stairs and barged into the office, twisting her hair into a knot on the back of her head. 'I'm going to work. Don't forget to take Lily to school.' She left, stabbing pins into the knot and Flooed to the Prophet office. Harry sighed and buried his head in his arms. He wasn't sure why he was so angry at Ginny. Dealing with the Dursleys shouldn't have been her fight. It was his.
'Dad?' Lily stood in the doorway, her hair standing wildly around her head.
Harry picked his head up from the desk. 'What, Lily?'
'Are you and Mum going to split up?' Lily's solemn face seared through Harry's bad temper.
'What kind of a question is that?'
'You're not talking to her...'
'Come here, baby.' Harry held out his arms and Lily ran to them, climbing in Harry's lap. 'Your mum and I are not splitting up. I promise.' He stroked Lily's hair slowly. 'Sometimes your mum and I disagree about some things. It doesn't mean we're going to end it all. It just means we don't see things the same way.'
'But you're mad at her,' Lily objected.
'No, I'm not,' corrected Harry, slightly annoyed. When Lily looked up at him skeptically, he sighed. 'I'm really not mad at Mum, all right?'
'You're doing a really good job acting like it,' Lily huffed.
Harry blinked at his daughter. 'Go get dressed, and I'll get some breakfast for you. I'll check your homework while you eat.' He set her on the floor and sent her off with a light swat to her bottom. He trailed after Lily, heading for the kitchen. At the kitchen door, he stopped, and turned around, and went to the fireplace in the sitting room. He took a handful of Floo powder and knelt on the hearth rug, throwing the glittery powder into the flames. It was early, but he knew Hermione would be awake. 'Hermione?' he said softly.
A pair of striped socks came into view, and Hermione crouched down to talk, dressed for the day. 'Harry! Is everything all right?'
'We saw the Dursleys.'
'When?' Hermione plopped on the floor, settling in to chat for a while.
'Monday. After the train left at King's Cross.' Harry shifted into a more comfortable position. 'I probably should have used the mobile,' he confessed. They had gotten one once James started primary school. They didn't use it much. 'Not as hard on the knees...'
'Next time, then. How was it?' Hermione asked.
'Weird. I haven't really thought about them one way or another in years. Well, not Petunia and Vernon. Dudley and I write to each other a couple of times a year. As far as Petunia and Vernon...' Harry shrugged. 'Nothing. It was like they were strangers.'
'Well, that's good, isn't it? Means you really have left them behind,' Hermione suggested. 'I mean if you felt anything, like anger, for instance, it would mean you still let them get to you.'
'I suppose...' Harry said slowly. 'Did you know Ginny had gone to see them? Before our wedding?'
'No. Why would she do something like that?'
'Because I told her about growing up with them. Actually, I don't really remember what I told her. I was pretty pissed,' he admitted ruefully. 'Anyway, it came up that she'd met Vernon and Petunia before.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'Apparently she got somewhat shirty with them. Told them off.'
'Good for her.'
Harry felt his mouth drop open. 'What?'
Hermione switched positions, so she lay on her stomach. 'She did what we were all thinking, Harry. Someone had to tell them off, because you never were going to do it.'
'But... She...' Harry spluttered. 'It wasn't her place to do it,' he said finally.
'If not hers, then whose? She was going to be your wife, you gormless berk. That makes it her place.' Hermione sighed. 'You and Ronald both. Get far too tetchy when you think your masculinity's threatened.'
'I still don't understand why she thought she had to go confront them. I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want anything to do with them,' Harry retorted mulishly.
'Harry, think about it for three seconds, would you? Ginny never went to Privet Drive before that. She never saw how they locked you up in your room. She didn't see firsthand how they treated you, and you never talked about it. The most she would have seen the Dursleys would have been on the train platform, and even then, she didn't interact with them directly.
'It's a bloody miracle you are who you are today. Honestly, if you hadn't met Ron on the train, you would never have known what a real family was like.' Hermione sat up. 'I have to go to work now. I'll have that paperwork for your interviews done before lunch, I think.' Harry started to pull his head from the fireplace when Hermione stopped him. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Go ahead...'
'Are you angry that Ginny went there without your knowledge, or because she did it and you never did?' At the shocked look on Harry's face, Hermione nodded. 'That's what I thought. I'll see you later.'
Harry pulled his head from the fireplace and sat in stunned silence on the hearth rug.
Harry spent the rest of the morning in a fog, as his conversation with Hermione whirled around his head. He managed to give Lily breakfast, and dropped her off at school on time, before he went back to the house to gather his things for work. He shoved his papers into his battered bag, and quite without thinking, opened the middle drawer of his desk, and pulled out a locked box. He flipped through a series of opened envelopes until he came to the one toward the end of the stack. He copied a number onto a scrap of parchment, and slid the envelope back into its place, before he opened another drawer of the desk, and pulled the mobile out and slid it into his bag.
Ginny pushed the door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes open, shaking her head as the belch rang out. George and Ron had finally gotten their hands on James last summer. Ginny figured that after fourteen years, James was on his own when it came to fending off demands from his crackpot uncles to record butterbeer induced burps. 'Hiya, Gin!' George called from counter.
'Morning, George. Ron around?'
George noted Ginny's smoldering expression and pointed to the back. 'What did Ickle Ronnikins do now?'
'Nothing, as far as I know,' Ginny said surprised. 'Why?'
'You look like you're about to rip him a new one.'
'If I'm going to rip anyone a new one, it won't be Ron.'
George looked slightly alarmed. 'It's not the kids is it? I swear, I told Fred and Jacob if I got a letter from Neville before Easter, they were grounded all summer!'
'It's not the boys. Although, you'll have to let me know how that grounding works out for you.' She blew out a breath. 'I just need to go talk to Ron, all right?' She pushed the curtain aside, and found Ron in the back, making sweets for the Snackboxes. He was idly flicking his wand at a cauldron, while he read an issue of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. 'Can you do read and do that at the same time?'
'Of course I can,' Ron said smugly, putting his comic book down. 'I've been doing the Snackboxes for longer than you've been married.' He threw an arm around Ginny. 'How are you?'
'Harry's being a stroppy wanker,' she announced. 'He's been that way since Monday,' Ginny grumbled.
Ron sighed. 'Okay, I think I'm going to regret asking, but what happened?'
'We ran into his Muggle relations after we left the platform. We were going to take the Tube down to Charing Cross to come down here, and there they were.'
'I thought Harry didn't care about them.'
'He doesn't. But he found out I went to see them once.'
Ron felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. 'You did? When?'
'Back before we got married. It was toward the end of my first season with the Harpies.'
'Oh, please tell me you told them off...' Ron begged.
'Well, yes, I did,' Ginny admitted. 'And that's what's set him off.'
'Oh, well, then. That makes sense.'
Ginny dropped onto a rickety stool, and massaged her temples. 'All right, you're going to have to explain to me how that makes sense to you.'
'You're not a man, Gin,' Ron said simply.
Ginny rolled her eyes. 'So because I stepped on his fragile male ego, he's been in a strop for two days?'
'Something like that,' Ron cheerfully said. 'Look, Gin, when you went down there and gave them the what-for -- and I really wish I'd seen that, by the way -- you kind of took the opportunity from him to do it himself.'
'I did not!' Ginny protested.
'To him you did. Gin, they really didn't care about him. The summer before you started school, they had bars on the window of his room. And the door was locked. He couldn't get in or out if he'd wanted to. Do you remember how thin he was after the war?' Ginny nodded. 'He was almost worse that summer. His uncle let people think the worst of him. Said he went to school for the... How did he put it...? Ah, "Incurably Criminal Boys". He had more than enough reason to want to call them out for it later.'
'I know...' Ginny said faintly, remembering Harry's reaction to that first Christmas card they'd received the year before James was born.
'You kind of stole his thunder, in case he ever wanted to do it. Why did you go there, anyway?'
'I wanted to meet them for myself. So I could see what the complete failures for human beings that were responsible for raising him were like.'
'You didn't hex them, did you?' Ron asked.
'No, but I wish I had,' she admitted.
Ron began to ladle the purple liquid into molds. 'How did it feel?'
Ginny smiled grimly. 'Bloody marvelous.'
Dinner was a quiet affair. Neither Harry, nor Ginny ate much, and most of what was on their plates ended up in the rubbish bin. Ginny sent Lily upstairs to do her homework, and began to clear the table. She began to wash the dishes, the sound of the water sloshing in the sink sounded unnaturally loud in the near-silent kitchen. Ginny stacked the dishes on the counter, and reached for a tea towel to dry them when Harry's hand dove into the drawer and plucked one from under her fingertips. He silently began to dry the plates and put them away, before turning his attention to the cutlery and glasses. He picked up a pot, and began to dry even the tiniest speck of water from it. 'I'm not angry at you,' he said, concentrating on drying the pot thoroughly. Ginny shrugged and took the dishcloth to the table, and began to wipe the crumbs from it into her hand. 'When I left their house, I thought that was it, and I never had to think about them again. There was a part of me that wanted -- no, needed to go them and say, "See? I have everything I ever wanted, in spite of you." And I never did. I wasn't afraid of them. I never really was. I was afraid of how worthless they made me feel, and it took so long for me to believe that people really did love me, that I didn't want to face them. Because they might make me feel like that again.' Harry bent to put the pot away, and picked up another one, drying it just as carefully as the first.
'You're so much braver than I was,' he continued. 'And I'm so envious that you had more bollocks than I did.' He put the pot away, and folded the tea towel, hanging it on a bar over the sink to dry, and left the kitchen, leaving Ginny standing with the dishcloth in one hand, gaping after him.
Harry flipped the mobile open and dug through his bag for the number he'd scribbled down that morning. He laid it on the desk in front of him, and before he could dial the number, he grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky and took a healthy swig before he punched in the numbers to Dudley's flat outside London.
Palms sweating, he counted the number of times the telephone rang, hoping that the answerphone would pick up. 'Hello?' an unfamiliar voice said.
'Erm... I'm sorry; I was looking for Dudley...' Harry stammered.
'He's not in right now. There's some do going on at his school, and I was mercifully excused from attending. Sometimes colds are beautiful things,' the voice said, sniffling.
'Oh, right,' Harry breathed, relieved. 'Uh... This is his cousin, Harry...'
'Oh, you're Harry!' the voice exclaimed, delighted. 'I'm Aaron,' it explained.
'Um, it's nice to meet you,' Harry said in desperation, his mouth going dry. 'Could you tell Dudley I rang?'
'Of course, I will. Does he have your number?'
'I don't think so,' Harry choked. 'Erm... It's 07932 463722. I think.' He laughed nervously. 'I never ring myself, you know?'
'I know exactly what you mean. Took me months to learn this one when we moved in here. He ought to be home in an hour or so. Would you like him to ring you back when he gets home?' Aaron asked.
'Yeah. That would be great,' Harry said. 'Thanks.' He flipped the mobile closed, ending the call. His head dropped to the desk, his breath coming in shallow pants.
'Now, that's bravery,' Ginny said from the doorway. She left before Harry could say anything.
Scorpius put the letter from Narcissa in his trunk. He rummaged in his school back for a clean sheet of parchment, and a spare quill.
5 January 2019
Dear Teddy,
I need to know something, and you're the only one who can tell me.
What did my grandfather Malfoy do to Mrs. Potter?
Scorpius
He made his way to the Owlery, slipping on the ice, as he climbed the steps. Teddy was his last hope.
A/N: I hope the mobile number I made up for Harry is close to the actual format... I'm not accustomed to dealing with British telephone numbers. :)
Also, thanks to FinnFiona - most of what Hermione tells Harry was inspired by her review of the last chapter. :)
TWENTY FOUR -- Apologies
Teddy stretched his sock-clad feet onto the coffee table, and dug the letter from Scorpius from his pocket. 'How well do you know Scorpius?' he asked the young woman leaning tiredly against him.
Victoire tucked a scrap of parchment into an enormous book on her lap, before closing it. 'About as well as you do, I suppose. He's pretty quiet, except during Quidditch games, then he turns into something of nutter, but he loves it. He gets good marks, even in the difficult subjects. Got roughed up quite a bit last year in school by one of his cousins, but refused to complain about it. Would get letters from his mother and grandmother, but never his father. He looks quite delicate, you know? Like a good strong wind would blow him away, but he's a lot tougher than he looks. His grandfather's death last spring was difficult for him. Lots of whispers behind his back. Even from other Gryffindors.'
'How did he handle that?' Teddy asked curiously.
'Seemed more confused than anything else. Like he didn't know why people were talking about it.'
Teddy watched the flames in the fireplace dance, throwing shadows on the wall in silence, while Victoire waited for him to say something else. When he didn't immediately reply, she opened her book once more. She had a test on antidotes in the Healer training program in the morning. When Teddy spoke after being quiet for so long, it startled her. 'So if I were to hypothetically know something about his grandfather, should I tell him?'
Victoire raised a reddish-blonde brow. 'Hypothetically? Depends on what you know, doesn't it?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, it would depend on who else it involves. Lucius Malfoy is dead, and he rather shredded his reputation on his own, so it's not as if you can make it worse. Scorpius, for instance, seemed relieved when he got the letter from his mum that Lucius Malfoy had died. Didn't seemed too fussed about it, to be honest.'
'Can't say I'd blame him. Dad's journals had a few choice words to say about Lucius. None of them were complimentary.' Teddy thumbed open the parchment. 'What if the other person is Ginny? Hypothetically...'
'You mean the diary?' Victoire gave Teddy a look. 'Hypothetically.'
'Yeah, how did you know?'
Victoire leaned down to pick up her bag, and tucked the book inside. 'Do you remember that conversation we had with our parents right before last Christmas?'
'Yeah.'
'It came up.' Victoire buckled the clasp of the bag. 'How do you know about it?'
'I just know what Dad knew -- that while they were in Diagon Alley before school started, Lucius slipped it into Ginny's things. She was having a tough time with Defense the next year, when Dad taught it. He got her to talk about it a little, and all she would say was Lucius had sneaked a diary to her that had belonged to Voldemort, and when she wrote in it, his memories got into her head. That's all.' Teddy brandished the letter toward Victoire. 'He's asked about it. Scorpius.'
'Why didn't he just ask Aunt Ginny about it? You said he was with them the last few days of the holiday.' Victoire paused slightly. 'If we're still speaking in a hypothetical sense...'
Teddy tugged Victoire's messy plait. 'Would you have been able to do that? If it had been you?' He stuffed the letter back into his pocket. 'And yes, we're still speaking hypothetically.'
'Well... Aunt Ginny's not exactly a formidable person, you know.'
'She is if you're Scorpius Malfoy.'
'Aunt Gin's always been nice to Scorpius. You've told me so.'
'True. But if you were Scorpius, would you want to actually go ask Ginny what his grandfather did to her?'
'You've got a point.'
'And wouldn't you rather go to some entirely uninvolved third party?'
'Well, yes, I suppose...'
'So...' Teddy sighed. 'I should tell him what I know...'
Victoire stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. 'Yes, and if it makes you feel better, just tell Aunt Ginny that you've told him.' She leaned over the sofa to kiss Teddy. 'Good night, Ted.'
Teddy wound his arms around her waist. 'Don't go yet, Vic,' he murmured against her mouth. 'Stay for a little bit longer.'
'I have to go. Have an exam first thing in the morning.'
Reluctantly, Teddy let her go. 'Bloody training program. How many years is it?'
'Five until I'm a full Healer. Two years of classes and three years of apprenticeship.'
'Even the Aurors don't do that,' Teddy snorted.
'Yes, well, an Auror doesn't hold your life in her hands, does she?' Victoire asked loftily. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' She slipped out the door, and Teddy heard the soft pop of her Disapparition.
Teddy sat on the sofa a moment longer, then pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered, 'Accio.' A sheaf of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill landed in his outstretched hands.
9 January 2019
Dear Scorp,
I can tell you what I know, but if you want the full story, you're going to have to approach Ginny herself. I'm not saying you have to do that right away, but if what I say doesn't satisfy your curiosity, then you'll have to talk to Ginny. Or somehow get Lily to talk to you.
What I do know is second-hand from my dad...
Harry pressed the button on the mobile to end a call. It had been one of Lily's teachers who had called to remind them she had a major history project due at the end of the month. Harry glared balefully at the mobile. 'Whatever happened to making them responsible for their own homework without calling Mummy and Daddy every week?' he muttered, pushing the offending device across the desk. He couldn't imagine McGonagall calling them every week to remind them that the boys had homework. He couldn't even imagine Neville doing something like that. He couldn't have imagined any of his primary school teachers calling the Dursleys to remind them he had a major project due. The mobile rang shrilly, interrupting his musings on how much things had changed since he was in primary school. Without bothering to check who it was, he flipped it open. 'Hello?' he said absently.
'Hello, Harry.' The voice paused uncertainly. 'It's Dudley...'
'Right,' Harry breathed, his mouth gone dry.
'I've wanted to talk to you for ages. I wasn't sure if your lot had telephones...' Dudley cleared his throat, embarrassed. 'I didn't mean it like that...'
'I know,' Harry said. 'Um, some of us do, like me and my friend, well, sister-in-law, I suppose, that's what Hermione is... Anyway, Lily's still in primary school, and we got a mobile when James started primary school so they could reach us, and Hermione was raised non-magic, so she was used to having one...' Harry swallowed, suddenly aware he was babbling. 'You said something at King's Cross last week about coffee?'
'Yeah... When are you free?'
'Next Saturday, I think.'
'Look, I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to see, but there're a few things I wanted to say to you in person. Because sometimes, you just can't put it in a letter...'
Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. 'Yeah, I know what you mean.' He put his head in his free hand. 'I'll ring you later next week, and you can tell me where to meet you.'
'Yeah. Um... Harry?'
'Yeah?'
'I want to apologize for my parents. For last Wednesday at the station. My father shouldn't have spoken to Lily like that. And they both should have been more civil to you and your wife.'
'You don't need to apologize for them,' Harry said softly.
Dudley snorted with ironic laughter. 'Yeah, well, someone should. Truthfully, that year we spent in hiding was the next best thing to happen to me. The ones they had looking after us were really great with us. Courteous, even when my parents did their best to ignore them. I learned a lot about you from them, too.'
'Oh, God...' Harry moaned. 'Like what?'
'That you outwitted a dragon.' Dudley paused, and asked with child-like curiosity, 'There really are dragons?'
'Uh. Yeah. My brother-in-law works with them. Keeps non-magic folk from noticing them.'
'Wicked!' Dudley chuckled quietly. 'I have to go. Aaron's got dinner ready. But you'll ring me next week?'
'I will,' promised Harry. He ended the call, and set the mobile carefully on the desk's scarred surface. He heaved a sigh and pushed the chair back, heading for the sitting room. Ginny was curled up on the sofa, with a book. 'That was Dudley,' he told her.
'Oh?' Ginny looked up from her book. 'How is he doing?'
'We're having coffee next Saturday,' Harry said, flopping down to the sofa next to her.
'Good for you,' Ginny said.
'You think so?'
'If Andromeda and Narcissa Malfoy can make amends, there's hope for you and your cousin.' Ginny turned a page of her book. 'What was the other call?'
'Lily's history teacher.'
'What did she do?' Ginny's eyes went wide. Lily had a tendency to lose her temper at school sometimes, and it would manifest in magic. Just before Christmas, she had accidentally shrunk Regina MacLeod's prized cashmere jumper, when the girl had teased Lily one too many times about her freckles.
'Nothing, just called to remind us that she's got a project due at the end of the month.'
Ginny scowled. 'Could you imagine Snape calling Mum to remind her I had an essay due next week?' she grumbled in an unconscious echo of Harry's earlier sentiments.
'My thoughts exactly.' Harry stretched his feet out in front of him. 'Teddy came by my office today.'
'Oh?'
'He got a letter from Scorpius asking about you.'
'Oh...'
'Teddy said he told him what he'd learned from Remus' journals.'
'Oh.'
'It was a logical place for him to ask, given all the guff Lily gave him when he was here.'
'I suppose.' Ginny looked down at her book, barely refraining from worrying the corner of a page between her thumb and forefinger. 'When is all that going to end? The blame and the finger-pointing...'
Harry reached across the sofa and brushed a lock of Ginny's hair from her eyes. 'When we stop doing it.'
'That's awfully profound, Potter.'
'And it's true, Ginevra.' Harry got to his feet. 'I'm going to go fly a bit,' he announced. 'Take the edge off.'
'Wear a hat. It's cold outside.'
'Yes, Mummy.' Harry rolled his eyes.
'Fine. Don't wear a hat. And when you catch pneumonia, don't come crying to me.'
'Don't worry. I won't. I'll go crying to Molly,' Harry shot back with a smirk. Nevertheless, he took his hat from the pocket of his coat, and pulled it snugly over his head, before wrapping the matching scarf around his throat, and pulling his coat on over his heavy wool jumper. Harry disliked wearing gloves or mittens while he flew, but Ginny was right. It was rather cold outside. The clouds had dissipated, leaving clear skies, making the temperature drop precipitously when the sun set earlier. Harry tapped his gloves with his wand, casting a Warming charm on them, then drew them over his hands. He went out to the broom shed and took out his broom.
Mounting it, he kicked off the hard, frozen ground, and headed for the woods behind the house, skimming over the tops of the trees. He nudged the broom forward a bit faster, reveling in the feel of the icy wind rushing past his face. Harry usually didn't spend his money on frivolous things, but he loved a good International standard broom. He currently used a Firebolt A-23, used by the Scottish national team.
He had told Al last summer about what flying had meant to him while he'd been in school. It was still the same for Harry. While he was airborne, he could leave everything behind for a few minutes. The January probation interviews were scheduled for Monday, but instead of Harry's usual list, he was taking on Shacklebolt's, too, strictly due to his skills with Legilimency, something Shacklebolt admittedly wasn't very good at doing.
Harry shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that chased through his head, wondering what he would find. The Muggle-baiting incidents were sporadic at best, and whoever it was behind it was quite skilled at doing just enough to get the Ministry's attention, but not enough to really cause any lasting damage or harm to the victims.
He saw a clearing ahead, and sent the broom into a steep dive, pulling up at the last minute, and soaring above the trees in a vertical climb that left him breathless with exhilaration.
If nothing else, it was liberating. Even if it was only temporary.
Scorpius sat at the Gryffindor table, tiredly spooning porridge into his mouth when Teddy's barn owl, Tonks, landed clumsily on the table, knocking over a jug of pumpkin juice, and sending a rack of toast flying. One of the owl's feet landed in a pot of jam. Tonks pulled his foot out of the jam with a sticky, sucking noise, and left dark red tracks on the table, leaving a trail of raspberry jam. His head swiveled around, and he spotted Scorpius, and began to hoot apologetically, as he minced across the table and held out his leg.
Scorpius made a moue of distaste as he untied the thong that held the letter to Tonks' leg. It was the one that landed in the jam, and the envelope was stained with small blobs of raspberry. Tonks hooted once more, and he sounded so pathetic that Scorpius had to smile. He stroked the dark brown feathers of the owl's head. 'It's all right. No worries, eh?' The owl blinked and leaned into the boy's gentle caress. 'Want some juice?' Scorpius held out his goblet to the owl, who gratefully dipped his beak into it, then launched back into the air, gracefully streaking out of the Great Hall.
Scorpius sighed wistfully, watching Tonks fly gracefully out a window. He wished he had gotten an owl, but his father refused and there were some things that even his mother wouldn't defy.
He looked down at the letter, and used the serviette in his lap to try and wipe some of the larger jam stains away. Shoving his breakfast to the side, he broke the seal of the envelope, and slid the folded parchment out. Once free of the envelope, the parchment expanded alarmingly. Scorpius stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans and headed for Gryffindor Tower. He didn't want to read what Teddy had to say at the table. He climbed through the portrait hole and dashed up the stairs to his dormitory. Anil and Max still slept in their beds, so Scorpius grabbed his coat and went back down the stairs. He ended up in the entrance, biting his lip, trying to figure out where to go. The Quidditch pitch was out, since the Gryffindor team had an early morning practice session. His usual favorite spot by the lake was also out. It was too cold, and by the looks of Teddy's letter, it was going to be a long read. He took a few steps into the courtyard and scanned it carefully. A bench sat in a seclude corner, sheltered from the worst of the wind. Scorpius tightened his scarf around his neck, and picked his way across the icy courtyard.
He settled on the bench, his back to the stone wall of the castle, and pulled the sheaf of parchment from his jeans pocket. Thirty minutes later, he set the letter down, having read it twice. He knew his father and grandfather had fought on the losing side of the last war. Not that anyone had actually said anything, outright, but Scorpius had observed the restrictions set on his father when they had traveled to France, and had heard the whispers of the other children when other families came to visit in Wiltshire about why his grandparents didn't live in England. It was maddening, knowing a little bit here and there. The idea of his grandfather willingly attacking an eleven-year old girl made him nauseated. The blood began to roar in his ears and Scorpius bent over, his head between his knees, panting. As the nausea subsided, Scorpius began to think there was more to Lucius' motives. Even though there was no love lost between himself and his grandfather, there had to be something more to it than tormenting Ginny.
He slowly sat up and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. It seemed as if every time he thought he had unraveled the knot of his family's secrets, it just twisted again into something even more complicated. It amazed him even more that the Potters and Weasleys could welcome him into their homes as much as they had.
No wonder Lily was having a hard time with it.
Harry shoved Mulciber's file into his desk and rolled his head around, making his neck pop loudly. He scrawled a few notes in the notebook at his elbow. He had two solid leads; their memories were exactly as Teddy had said they would be -- that hazy, foggy quality that marred a memory that had been tampered with. Each of the two suspects had memories of the locations, times, and even a hint of the activities. But neither of them was the ringleader. And neither of them had any kind of memory of the ringleader. Harry could see the moment the Memory charm took effect. Both suspects had been there, but neither of them had in fact, cast the Memory charm.
Whoever it was that had cast the Memory charm had done it badly. If Teddy's information was correct, Harry shouldn't have been able to see any of it. Harry sighed and looked at his watch. It had been a horribly long day, and Draco wasn't scheduled to be here for another half-hour to accommodate Gareth and Rafa's teaching schedules. At least they've all been compliant today, Harry thought. Of course, it had helped that a couple of rather menacing looking Hit Wizards were stationed outside his office, and at least one other Auror was in his office with him all day. They didn't have a choice.
Harry pulled his glasses off, folded his arms, and lowered his head to his desk. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. He ached all over and shivered slightly. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he had the flu.
The soft knock on his door made him look up. 'Come in,' he said, with more vigor than he felt.
Rafa's dark head peered around the door. 'You all right?'
'I look that bad, eh?' Harry asked ruefully.
Gareth's head appeared over Rafa's. 'You look like shite,' he said bluntly.
'Nice to see you, too,' Harry retorted, sliding his glasses over his nose. 'How're the boys?'
'Fine.' Rafa slipped into the office and dropped into one of the chairs next to Harry's desk. 'James is actually not too shabby with Arithmancy.'
'They're both doing well in Defense, too,' Gareth added, taking the chair next to Rafa.
'Good, good,' Harry murmured.
'Do you expect any problems with Mr. Malfoy?' asked Rafa.
'I hope not,' Harry replied. 'It's just going to be the three of us. No Hit Wizards or other Aurors in here.' Harry sat back in his chair. 'I'll explain what we need to do and why, and the consequences if he refuses to comply.' Harry pulled Draco's file from his desk drawer. 'No matter what he does or says, don't react to it. Just try to stay neutral.'
The insolent knock on the door put an end to their conversation. Harry flicked his wand at the door to admit Draco Malfoy.
Draco sauntered into the room, but Harry had begun to recognize it for what it was. It was how Draco coped with the world. He acted as if nothing had changed for him. His face bore its usual haughty expression, but his eyes momentarily widened as he saw Gareth and Rafa in the office, sitting in their chairs as if they sat there every day of their lives. His eyes flicked to Harry. 'Why are they here? It's always just you,' he asked, a faint note of panic in his voice.
'They're here to help,' Harry replied evenly. 'To verify what I see.' He casually laid a conspicuous hand on Draco's file.
'I haven't done anything!' Draco hissed. 'You know that!' The panic in his voice rose slightly.
'Nobody says you have.'
'Then why the minions?' demanded Draco, pointing at the other two men in the office.
'First of all, they're not my minions. Second, they're neutral third parties.' It was taking all of Harry's self-control to not snap at Draco. 'They're here to back me up, as I said.'
Draco stood stiffly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. 'I swear I've done nothing. I'm not going to Azkaban.'
'Draco.' It was Harry's calm use of his first name that made Draco stop talking and blink. In nearly three decades Harry had never called him anything but "Malfoy". 'I need you to calm down. We need to perform Legilimency on you. If you block us out or fight us, we will Stun you and take the memory from you.' Draco opened his mouth to object. 'If nothing else, this will prove you're as innocent as you claim.'
Draco looked from Harry to Gareth, then to Rafa. He mutely nodded assent.
Harry soundlessly blew out the breath he'd been holding. 'All right. Have a seat,' he offered, indicating the empty chair across the desk. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Draco, whose face was white and drawn. For half a second, Harry felt pity for him. 'Legilimens,' he whispered.
Draco's eyes widened even further and Harry was assaulted with images, coming at him almost faster than he could process them. Scorpius wrapping gifts on the floor in the middle of his bedroom at home. Narcissa sitting over a dying Lucius. A blurred memory of Draco examining the Mark on his arm. Scorpius as a small child staring at it with something akin to horror. Daphne tumbling on the grass outside the house with Scorpius, giggling. Memories of rapidly depleting bottles of whisky. A wine-stained letter Harry remembered Molly showing him right before Christmas.
Harry strained to see evidence of any kind of corruption in the memories. And of the signs that screamed someone had manipulated Draco's memory. Everything was bitingly clear. There weren't even vague memories of any of the locations where Muggle-baiting had occurred.
Nothing.
He gently released Draco from the spell, and nodded to Rafa. Harry leaned back against the chair. Gareth held his wand loosely, but still trained on Draco, his eyes hooded, revealing nothing. In a few moments Rafa lifted the spell from Draco. Draco slumped forward, his face glazed with sweat, glaring at the pattern of the rug on the floor. Harry pushed himself to his feet and leaned toward Gareth and Rafa. 'Could you wait outside for a bit?' he murmured. They nodded and left.
Harry waited until they had closed the door. He sat back down at his desk, and opened the top drawer of his desk, and pulled out a large bar of Honeydukes' chocolate. He peeled the wrapping off and began to break it into pieces. The loud snap of breaking chocolate made Draco jump. Harry pushed the chocolate across the desk. 'Couldn't hurt,' he said, taking a piece for himself.
Draco's eyes flew up to meet Harry's, and for a brief moment, Harry saw an uncanny resemblance to Scorpius, before they shuttered once more. Draco tentatively reached for a piece of chocolate. 'You won't tell anyone else what you saw?'
'No.'
'Not even your wife?'
'Not even my wife.'
Draco shoved the chocolate into his mouth. 'I don't want your pity,' he nearly snarled.
'Good. Because I'm not going to give you any,' Harry said, nibbling his piece of chocolate. Harry noticed the way Draco seemed to shiver. 'You're welcome to stay and collect yourself,' he offered, knowing appearances meant the world to Draco.
Again, Draco's eyes flew to Harry's, in that wide-eyed astonishment Harry had seen on the face of Scorpius. But only for a moment. 'Thank you.' It seemed to cost Draco a great deal of effort to say it. Harry sat quietly behind his desk, making a few notes in his notebook, aware of the person on the other side of the desk, but made no effort to engage him in any sort of conversation. At length, Draco rose and Harry glanced up to watch him walk toward the door.
As Draco's hand landed on the doorknob, Harry said quietly, 'I'll see you in July, then.'
'Couldn't resist, could you, Potter?' Draco said sardonically.
Harry said nothing, but let a small smile curve one side of his mouth. After Draco left, he called Rafa and Gareth back into the room.
'Anything?' Harry asked, without preamble.
'Nothing. Not even a wrinkle in any of the memories for the past several months.' Rafa rubbed the back of his neck. 'God, if that's what Scorpius has had to grow up with no wonder he -- ' Rafa bit off whatever it was that he was going to say.
'I know what you mean,' Harry agreed. He shook his head. 'I'll bet you a hundred Galleons that's the first time Malfoy actually willingly told anyone the truth.' Harry stretched. 'Let's get this report done so we can all get home.'
For an hour, Harry and Rafa compared notes on Draco, while Gareth lounged in the corner, grading essays. They each signed off on the written report and Harry stowed it in his desk, locking it. He left Gareth and Rafa at Kingsley's office, and made his way to the deserted Atrium, too tired to Apparate. He took a handful of Floo powder, and threw it into a fireplace, disappearing in a swirl of bright green flames.
When he stepped out of his own fireplace, he heard Lily and Ginny in the kitchen. He slipped up the stairs and into his bedroom, avoiding them with a twinge of guilt. Besides, he knew Ginny had heard him come out of the fireplace. Harry stripped off his clothing and stumbled wearily into the bathroom, turning on the hot water tap. He began to lather the face cloth draped over the edge of the tub and slowly began to scrub his arms.
Lily raised her eyes to the ceiling. 'How long is he going to be in there?' she asked.
'A while.' Ginny carefully cut out a figure dressed in medieval armor. 'Sometimes, your dad has to talk to some of the surviving Death Eaters. It doesn't put him in the best of moods,' Ginny said. 'He just needs some time to himself, is all.' She surveyed the scene on the kitchen table. 'Think you have enough blood on that lot?' she asked, pointing to a group of knights with fleur-de-lis on their chests, lying in a heap. 'Looks like a plate of pasta exploded.'
Lily sighed and gifted her mother with the type of longsuffering look children gave to their obviously thick parents. 'Mum... It's the defeat of the French by King Henry V at Agincourt. It's supposed to be bloody.' Lily looked at the stack of knights Ginny had sketched out on paper. 'I don't suppose we could cut those out with magic?' she wheedled.
'Absolutely not.' Ginny handed Lily a freshly cut-out figure. 'You're going to a Muggle school, and you'll do the assignments the Muggle way. It's not going to kill you.'
'But it would be faster...'
'And an unfair advantage.'
'Oh, all right,' sighed Lily, gluing a knight to a rock in her scene.
'And it's almost your bedtime, so go we'll get this cleaned up, and then you go have a bath.'
'Okay.'
Harry sighed and turned off the water. Most of the past hour he'd stood under the spray, his eyes closed. Viewing Draco's memories had given Harry a startling insight into Draco's life. And his own.
It was how Harry imagined he might have turned out if he'd never met the Weasleys.
He reached for a towel, and carefully dried himself, wrapping it around his middle. He walked into the bedroom, to find a pair of clean pajama bottoms on the foot of the bed with a t-shirt. Ginny must have come up while he was brooding. Harry slipped on the clothing, and wandered into the corridor and down into the kitchen. He opened the freezer and found an unopened carton of ice cream. Prying the seal off the lid, he dug in a drawer for a spoon, and sat at the table. 'Self medicating?' Ginny stood in the doorway.
'Mmm-hmmm,' Harry replied around a mouthful of chocolate. Swallowing, he continued, 'Better than whisky. No barmy nightmares.' He examined the numbers on the label. 'Maybe I shouldn't eat it straight from the carton. That's almost obscene.'
Ginny joined Harry at the table. 'Doesn't count if you eat it from the carton,' she said.
'Is that how that works?'
'It's what I tell myself.' She reached across the table and took Harry's spoon, using it to scoop a spoonful of ice cream. 'How did it go today?' She licked the ice cream off the spoon and handed it back to Harry.
'I've had worse.'
'Any leads?'
'A few.'
'Malfoy?'
Harry shook his head. 'It's not him.'
'You sound almost relieved.'
Harry snorted derisively. 'If I am, it's not for his sake. Malfoy was nothing more than an opportunistic git when we were in school, who wouldn't dare get his pretty hands dirty if he could avoid it. There's no gain in this for him.' He ate another spoonful of ice cream, the memory of all those empty bottles flashing before his eyes. 'Scorpius is welcome here any time,' he said softly. 'If he ever needs a place to go or something.'
Ginny looked at him oddly, but Harry, remembering his promise to Draco, shook his head, and continued to eat ice cream from the carton, sharing it with Ginny until it was gone.
TWENTY FIVE -- Seeds of Hope
Ginny pushed through the throngs of people in the corridor, bumping people with her overstuffed bag. She came to Harry's office, and knocked on his open door. 'Hiya,' she said a bit breathlessly. 'I have to go to Holyhead. Their Keeper just announced she's retiring effective immediately. There's a press conference at three.'
'Huh?' Harry looked up muzzily from his reports. 'Say again?'
'Going to Holyhead. Keeper retiring. Press conference.' Ginny started to leave and turned back. 'Oh, Hermione's going to pick Lily up from school. You'll need to go by their place when you're done here and take her home. I'll be home late.'
'And why do you have to go?' Harry asked in confusion. 'It's just a press conference... I thought you only did the games and tryouts anymore.'
Ginny refrained from sighing noisily. 'Because I've been covering the Harpies since before Al was born. It's my beat, and nobody else is going to cover this, except me.' She adjusted the strap of her bag. 'And it's Caroline. She was the Keeper when I was still playing. Even if I wasn't doing the Harpies, I'd want to do this one.'
Harry went back to his report. 'Oh, okay.'
Ginny eyed him for a moment. 'Don't forget to make Lily do her homework. And she needs to be in bed by nine.'
Harry glanced up at Ginny. 'Yeah, all right.' When Ginny didn't move, Harry prompted, 'Don't you have to be in Holyhead in fifteen minutes?'
'Right. I'm not sure when I'll be home, so don't wait up.'
Harry managed a small grin. 'Have I ever?'
'No,' Ginny shot back. She turned and darted down the corridor to the lifts. 'Bye,' she called over her shoulder.
Harry watched her run down the corridor, shaking his head. He looked down at his report and frowned. He didn't enjoy putting people in prison. And putting MacNair and Rookwood in Azkaban wasn't going to stop the Muggle-baiting. They were no closer to finding out who the ringleader was than they had been last Friday. It was intensely frustrating. Harry went out into the corridor and wound his way through the maze of desks and cubicles until he found Iain McDonald lounging at his desk. 'Hey, Iain,' Harry said softly, sitting in the battered chair across Iain's desk. 'Can I have a word?'
Iain knew that tone in Harry's voice after working with him for more than ten years. 'Sure.' He sat up and cleared a spot on his desk. 'What's up?'
'I need you to put more Aurors on these two,' Harry said sliding a scrap of parchment across the desk. Iain was in charge of the regional offices that kept tabs on former Death Eaters. 'They need to be followed every time they leave their house.'
'Round the clock surveillance, then?' Ian asked with a raised brow.
Harry nodded. 'I'm not ready to throw them into prison yet. I need more concrete proof.' When Iain made a face, Harry grunted, 'I know how you feel about that. It's not my favorite thing to do either, especially in this kind of weather.' He stood up. 'I want a list of who will be on and when. I also want it charmed to signal me if it changes. Have it in place by the end of the week.'
'You'll have it before then,' Iain promised, pulling a notebook out from under a pile of parchment and files.
'And clean your desk off, before it all falls on you.'
'I'll have you know I know exactly where everything is,' protested Iain.
'Uh-huh,' Harry replied, unconvinced. 'I'll be in Kingsley's office the rest of the day. If you get it done before you leave, just put it on my desk, all right?' Harry headed down the corridor to Shacklebolt's office, for once grateful to be the Head. It meant he wouldn't have to sit outside freezing his bollocks off all night.
Lily trudged from the front entrance of her school, scanning for Harry or Ginny in the crowd of parents waiting to pick up their children. She didn't see either of them, so she started walking home. It wasn't unusual. They didn't always pick her up from school. They usually only did that if they were taking her back to the Prophet offices or the Ministry until they were ready to go home. She spotted Hermione waving her hand to get her attention. Lily shifted her knapsack and dodged a few of the girls in the first year, chattering about Merlin knew what, and skipped to her aunt. 'How would you like to go to the shop with Hugo for a while?'
'Where's Mum or Dad?'
Hermione took Lily's hand and began to walk toward the Potter house, on the far edge of the village. 'Your dad has to stay late at work today, and your mum had to go to Holyhead for a story an hour ago.'
'So why couldn't Dad come get me?'
'He couldn't get away this time, Lils.'
Lily walked beside Hermione for a while. 'Are we going inside the house?'
'If you want to change out of your uniform.'
'I do. And I need to get my history project. The sooner I turn it in, the sooner my history teacher will stop ringing to remind Mum and Dad it's due at the end of the month.'
'Why does your teacher ring home?'
Lily rolled her eyes. 'She thinks if she doesn't ring at least once a week to keep Mum and Dad updated, I won't do my homework.'
'Has it been an issue before?'
'No. She treats us like babies.' Lily glanced up at Hermione. 'They won't do that next year, will they...?'
Hermione snorted with suppressed laughter. 'No, quite the opposite.'
'Good.' Lily walked quietly for a few more minutes. 'Do you think Uncle Ron and Uncle George will let us help until closing?'
'Probably. You'll end up dusting something. I doubt the bottom shelves have been done since the last time you and Hugo were there after school.'
'Uncle George let me run the counter last time I was there,' Lily announced. 'Gave me two Galleons!'
'You were underpaid,' scoffed Hermione.
'But Aunt Hermione,' gasped Lily. 'Two Galleons is a lot!'
'Whatever they give you today, don't spend it all in one place, then,' remarked Hermione dryly.
They reached the house and Hermione opened the front door. 'Go on up and get changed. I'll collect your work.'
Lily ran up the stairs, shedding her cardigan as she went. 'It's on the end of the end of the kitchen table,' she called over her shoulder.'
Hermione strolled into the kitchen, and examined the pile of medieval French knights waiting to be cut out and colored. Hermione tucked them into Lily's knapsack, along with her scissors and crayons. Lily came bounding down the stairs and skidded to a halt next to Hermione. 'Ginny makes you do your schoolwork the Muggle way, eh?'
Lily heaved a put-upon sigh. 'Yes.'
'Hmm. If it makes you feel better, Hugo does his that way, too. So did Rose.'
Lily picked up the knapsack. 'Why?'
'Can't do everything with magic.'
'That's what Mum says. Dad, too,' groaned Lily.
Hermione smiled and ran her hand over Lily's hair. 'Sometimes, using magic is like using a sledgehammer to kill a fly when a fly swatter will do. Come on, then. I'll take you to the shop, and Ron will take you and Hugo to our house when they've closed for the day.' Hermione took Lily's hand and they walked to the back garden. She Apparated them both to Diagon Alley, outside the shop.
Harry rubbed his eyes. They were gritty and dry from yesterday. He hadn't slept much the night before, tossing restlessly as ideas of what to do with MacNair and Rookwood chased through his head. He'd been with Shacklebolt for hours, if the rumble of his stomach was any indication. 'What time is it?' he asked curiously, noting the still corridor.
Shacklebolt glanced at a clock on his desk. 'Almost ten,' he rumbled.
'Oh, bollocks!' swore Harry. 'Lily!' He stuffed his paperwork into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. 'I have to go!' He tore down the corridor, and jabbed the button for the lifts, tapping his toes impatiently as it moved slowly to the Atrium. He dashed to a fireplace and Flooed to Ron and Hermione's.
Ron was sprawled on the sofa, reading the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly. 'Bloody hell, Ron. I'm sorry.'
'It's all right, mate,' Ron said nonchalantly. 'Got tied up?' he asked sympathetically.
'Something like that,' Harry acknowledged. 'Where's Lily?'
'In Rose's room. Been asleep for about an hour.'
'I'm so sorry,' Harry repeated. 'I meant to collect her at six. But Kingsley and I got into discussions about how to handle a case.'
'And you lost track of time,' stated Ron.
'Yeah.' Harry started walking back to Rose's room. Lily was curled up in the middle of the bed, a blanket tucked over her. Harry bent and scooped her up in his arms, grateful she was still small enough for him to be able to do that without rupturing something. He carefully carried her out into the sitting room, where Ron draped Lily's coat over her sleeping body.
Ron looked at the two of them in bemusement, holding Lily's knapsack. 'I'll go with you and take this,' he decided. 'You seem to have your hands full,' he observed dryly.
'Just a bit,' Harry retorted. Ron grinned at him, then disappeared. Harry shifted Lily into a more comfortable position and followed Ron.
When Harry reappeared behind the house, he could hear Ginny's frantic voice from the kitchen. As he walked into the house, she was pointing her wand at Ron's throat, saying, 'So help me, Ronald, where's Lily?'
'Right here,' Harry answered softly. He continued through the kitchen, and carried Lily to her bedroom, carefully laying her on the bed and covering her with an extra blanket before going back into the kitchen.
Ginny was sitting in a chair at the table, pale and trembling. 'Where the hell have you been?'
'I was with Kingsley and lost track of time,' Harry said tiredly, trying unsuccessfully to soothe his wife.
Ron set a cup of tea in front of Ginny. 'She did her maths homework, and cut out more of those knight blokes before she went to sleep an hour ago. Calm down, Gin.'
Ginny glanced up at Ron. 'Why don't you come home late, and find Hermione and Hugo gone, with no note or anything, and then let me tell you to calm down,' she seethed. She took a sip of the tea in front of her and looked at Harry. 'You were supposed to be home hours ago.'
Ron shook his head. 'Once again, I'm thrilled I don't have either of your jobs.'
Harry pulled the cup across the table, taking a sip of it himself. 'I know. I'm sorry. I really meant to be home earlier.' His stomach gurgled loudly. 'Can you fuss after I've had a sandwich or something? I haven't had dinner.'
'I'm sorry...' Ginny said, taking the cup back from Harry. 'I got home a few minutes ago, and neither of you were here...'
Harry reached across the table, and cupped Ginny's cheek in his hands. 'I know...'
'And on that note,' Ron murmured. 'See you two later,' he said, and ducked into the sitting room to Floo home.
Harry's stomach growled audibly again, and Ginny flicked her wand at the table, making a plate of sandwiches appear. 'I'm going to bed,' she said.
Harry's hand grasped her wrist, pulling her down into his lap. 'Stay,' he said softly.
'It's late,' she protested, but without any real heat.
'Please?'
'Let me go put Lily to bed...'
'She's fine. It won't hurt her to sleep in her clothes for one night.' Harry rested his head against Ginny's shoulder. 'Just... stay...' He exhaled slowly, coming to a stop for the first time in two days. 'How was the press conference?'
'It was fine. Emotional.'
'Why'd she retire so suddenly?'
'She got a concussion at the game before Christmas. A really bad one. The Healers said she shouldn't play anymore. This was one too many.' Ginny morosely sipped the tea Ron had made her. 'She was getting dizzy on her broom in training.' Ginny shook her head. 'It's a shame. She was brilliant.' Ginny sighed and looked down at Harry, meditatively chewing a sandwich. 'You said something last night about Scorpius...'
'Yeah.'
'Are you going to tell me why?'
Harry reached for another sandwich. He took a bite and slowly chewed it. 'I just have a feeling that one day he might need a place to stay. Like Sirius.' He looked up at Ginny his eyes dark with anguish. 'I can't tell you why,' he whispered. 'I just have a feeling...'
'And it bothers you?' she guessed.
'Yes.'
'That he'll need a place to stay, or that it will be with us?'
'Both.' Harry pushed the plate away and gently pushed Ginny off his lap, so he could stand up. 'Let's go to bed.'
'Harry?'
'Yeah?'
'He's not his father...'
Harry closed his eyes and the image of Draco's face, his eyes momentarily wide and frightened, just like his son's, flashed through his memory. 'No, he's not. And yes, he is...'
Al pushed a jug of milk toward James and glanced at Scorpius, picking at his breakfast. 'What's wrong?'
'Nothing.'
'It's hardly nothing,' Isabella chimed. 'You've been in a strop since last Saturday. Almost as bad at Vic when she's got the painters and decorators in...'
'Ewwww!' Jacob made gagging noises. 'We didn't need to know that.'
'Far too much information for our delicate ears,' agreed Fred.
'Seriously,' Al began. 'If someone's bothering you, we'll remind them to mind their manners.'
Scorpius pushed his plate away. 'How can you lot sit here and eat with me, take classes with me, invite me to spend the bleeding holidays in your home, after what my grandfather did to your mother?' he shouted at James and Al, who blinked at the vehemence of his response. Scorpius almost never lost his temper. Even when he had every right to do so.
Al's mouth dropped open, and he tried to say something, but James managed to speak first. 'Does this have anything to do with Lily?'
'No.' Scorpius picked up his bag and blindly ran out of the Great Hall and into the greenhouse for Herbology. It wouldn't start for nearly an hour, but Scorpius couldn't sit at the table anymore. He pushed open the door and stopped, the door swinging into his back. Neville was moving about the greenhouse, preparing for the second years' lesson for the day. 'Sorry, Professor, I'll... I'll just go...'
'Come in,' Neville said, waving the boy into the greenhouse. 'Here.' He handed Scorpius a carton of earmuffs. 'Could you put these around the potting trays for me?'
'Okay.' Scorpius set his bag down next to his usual spot at the second potting tray, and took the carton of earmuffs. 'Are we working with mandrakes today?'
'Yep.' Neville pointed his wand at the rickety blackboard and instructions for repotting adolescent mandrakes appeared, and a detailed drawing of a mandrake at this stage of development. He watched Scorpius carefully set a pair of earmuffs at each station of the potting trays. There was something about the tense set of his shoulders that made Neville put down the box of dragon dung fertilizer and grab a few trowels. He moved to the potting tray and laid a few trowels in the middle. 'Something on your mind?'
'It's nothing. I know my grandfather wasn't the nicest person in the world. But after what he did to Mrs. Potter, I don't see how any of them could stand to have me as a friend. Lily already doesn't like me.'
'Now, I find that hard to believe,' Neville chided. 'I've known Lily a long time.'
'She wouldn't talk to me,' Scorpius mumbled.
Neville touched Scorpius on the shoulder. 'Lily's got a terrible temper sometimes. Just like Harry. It'll take some time for her to come down.' He perched on one of the battered stools scattered around the greenhouse. 'I was in the same year as your father,' he remarked idly.
'Really?'
'Yeah. I wasn't great at the magic for a while. Especially Potions and Transfiguration. And your father never passed up a chance to bully me for the first couple of years we were in school.' Neville continued before Scorpius could say anything. 'But that doesn't stop me from being able to see you as someone separate from all that. You're not your father. You're definitely nothing like your grandfather.' He squeezed the boy's thin shoulder. 'It'll be okay. I'll bet by the time summer comes round, everything will be all right.' He patted Scorpius' back. 'Come on. I've got something new in that I'm doing with the fifth years later. Let's go to Greenhouse Three, and I'll show it to you.'
It was later that night when Scorpius sat in a corner of the library, doing some reading for the next day's Defense class, when he found himself surrounded by the Weasleys and James and Al. Maddie nudged Parker, who elbowed her back. Isabella gave Parker a significant look. It made Parker sigh and take the chair across from Scorpius. 'I guess I'm the spokesperson,' he muttered. 'Look Scorpius, we've been talking. And we reckon that this has something to do with that diary our parents told us about last Christmas. It's the only thing where Aunt Ginny had direct contact with your grandfather, as far as we know.' Scorpius looked down at his textbook, his throat suddenly clogged. He nodded once. 'Right, well, it doesn't matter to any of us what your grandfather did. It was a long time ago, and Aunt Ginny doesn't seem to hold you accountable for it either. And in all honesty, she's the only one whose opinion ought to matter.' Parker shifted uncomfortably in the hard, straight-backed chair. 'It's not like anybody in our family's perfect,' he mumbled, remembering hearing about his father's estrangement from the rest of the family. 'No judgments here.'
Al scooted into a chair next to Scorpius. 'Don't pay any attention to Lily. She'll get over it.'
'Yeah,' James added. 'She gets in mood and doesn't come out of it for days. Don't take it personally.'
Sophie pushed her way between Fred and Jacob. 'Can't always pick your family,' she told Scorpius. 'You think if I was able to pick, I'd pick either of these gits?' she asked, pointing to her brothers.
'Ah, Soph,' Fred sighed dramatically.
'You cut us to the quick,' said Jacob sadly.
'See what I mean?' Sophie said in an undertone to Scorpius.
'It's just so frustrating to not know why...' Scorpius whispered.
Maddie squeezed next to Al on his chair. 'Maybe you'll never find out everything about your grandfather, or even your father. Maybe they wanted to leave it all behind like our parents did. But you can't keep beating yourself up for their choices.'
'Nobody starts off evil,' Rose said quietly. 'They learn to be that way.' She leaned against the table. 'And if you weren't the nicest person, you wouldn't be in Gryffindor,' she added, with a shrug.
'That's a load of bollocks,' snorted Fred. 'I've asked Mum, and she says Gryffindors have their own set of prejudices, like everyone else. We're not saints.'
'That's not what I meant!' objected Rose. 'I just meant that if he was going to be a wanker like his grandfather, he'd be in Slytherin.'
'So ladylike,' murmured Jacob.
'Was that supposed to make me feel better?' Scorpius asked dryly.
'Of course it was.' Rose flipped her hair over her shoulder.
'The point is,' said Parker. 'We're not going to shun you any time soon, all right?'
'Are you going to study, or clutter up my library?' Madam Pince's acidic voice came from behind the cousins. 'If you're just going to take up space, I suggest you take it to your common room,' she snapped.
'Come on,' Rose ordered, picking up Scorpius bag. 'No more hiding.'
Feeling oddly relieved, Scorpius allowed the cousins to tow him back to the common room.
Harry sat next to Lily at the kitchen table after dinner, trying to make miniature bows and arrows for her battle scene. 'This is ridiculous,' he muttered, after his latest effort to make arrows from toothpicks ended up in the rubbish bin. He pulled his wand from his pocket. 'It can't hurt.'
'Don't even think about it,' Ginny said from the doorway.
'But...' Harry protested.
'No. No magic for her schoolwork. We agreed.'
Harry replaced his wand. 'Damn.' He pushed picked up a toothpick and carefully glued a paper arrowhead to it. 'So, Lily...'
'Yeah?' Lily looked up from the horse she was coloring.
'What your mum and I talked about with you before Christmas?'
'What about it?' she asked, her eyes dropping back down to the crayon filling in the horse's hooves.
'Well, you remember my Muggle relatives... From King's Cross?'
Lily wrinkled her nose in distaste. 'Yes.'
'Does that change your opinion of me?' Harry asked gently.
'Why would it do that?'
Harry propped his elbows on the table. 'Well, for starters, they're rude and disagreeable people.'
'Well, you're not,' replied Lily patiently. 'Except when James or Al do something stupid.'
'That's called parenting,' Harry said wryly. 'I'm supposed to be disagreeable when they do something stupid.' He added a bit of fluff to the end of the toothpick and pushed it toward the middle of the table. 'So, knowing that I have disagreeable relatives, you still think of me the same way?'
'Yeah...'
'So why don't you try giving Scorpius the benefit of the doubt, Lils? You know he's not a bad person. He can't help what his father and grandfather did. Not any more than I could help my aunt and uncle being what they are. I got really lucky, though.'
'How?' Lily glued the finished horse to the panorama, next to a paper cut-out of Henry V.
'Well, I got to go to Hogwarts. I met your uncle Ron. And then George, Percy, and Fred. I learned what families are really supposed to be like. It helped keep me from becoming a bitter, unpleasant person.' He picked up another toothpick and began to fashion it into another arrow. 'Every time I had to deal with them until I left their house for good, the knowledge that I had somewhere to go, with people who cared about me, made it bearable to be with the Dursleys.' He added the arrowhead and another bit of fluff before he spoke again. 'Just something to for you to think about.' Harry dropped the new arrow next to the other one. 'Go on up to bed. Your mum and I will be up in a minute.'
Lily put her crayons back in their box and pushed the panorama to the far end of the table. 'Dad? I wasn't mad at him...'
'Then you need to let him know that,' Harry said gently. 'You weren't very nice to him when he was here after Christmas.'
Lily scuffed the floor with a fluffy slipper. 'I'm sorry...' she whispered, looking at the floor
Harry tilted her chin up. 'I'm not the one you need to apologize to, Lily.' She nodded and turned and ran up the stairs.
A few days later, Lily left school and made a detour into the village. She walked down the street until she came to what looked like a dilapidated shop and slipped inside. Once inside, she was greeted by a chorus of soft hoots. She walked up to the tall counter and stood on her toes, her chin resting on the counter top. 'Good afternoon,' greeted the cheerful wizard behind the counter. 'What can I do for you?'
Lily slid an envelope across the counter. 'I need to send this to Hogwarts.'
'Regular rate or do you need it to get there tomorrow?'
'Regular rate's fine.'
The wizard held out his arm to a barn owl, who fluttered down and landed on his arm. He transferred the owl to the counter and tied Lily's letter to its leg. 'Hogwarts. For a Scorpius Malfoy.' He gave Lily a look, but Lily ignored him. 'How do you know the Malfoys? With you being a Potter?'
Lily dug the five Sickles to pay for the post out of her knapsack. 'He's in the same House as my brothers.' She slid the money across the counter. 'He's also a friend.'
The wizard said nothing as he launched the owl through the round window at the top of the wall. Lily thanked the wizard and walked out of the post office and headed home.
TWENTY SIX -- Like Waiting For a Train
Harry waited nervously in the Charing Cross station, looking for Dudley. He wasn't sure what he was doing there, but Ginny seemed to feel it was important for him to do this -- to meet with Dudley. 'Harry!' Dudley called, waving his hand in the air.
Harry walked to Dudley. 'Hiya.' He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. 'So...'
'So you're wondering why you agreed to something so crazy?'
'Yeah, something like that.'
'Don't blame you.'
'Why did you want to do this?' Harry followed Dudley through the crowds of Saturday shoppers in the station.
'Some things need to be said face-to-face. Not in a letter, or a Christmas card, or even on a telephone call.'
'I can understand that...' Harry dodged a small child dawdling behind its mother. 'But why now after twenty years?'
'I've been wanting to for years, but you never seemed keen on taking the contact beyond the cards at Christmas.'
'I didn't,' Harry admitted in a low voice.
Dudley led the way up the stairs and into the hard, bright light of the January morning. 'I figured. When they let us go back home, all your stuff had been cleared out. They said you'd survived, so I figured it had to have been you. It was like you'd never been there.' Dudley paused. 'Remember that tea I left you and it spilled?'
Harry ran his index finger over his thumb. He could remember the broken china jabbing into his finger. 'Yeah. I stepped on the cup.'
Dudley glanced at Harry. 'Mum never could get the stain out of the carpet,' he informed his cousin slyly.
Harry burst into surprised laughter. 'I'll bet that drove her mad,' he spluttered.
'It did.'
A bit of ice seemed to thaw around Harry. He and Dudley chatted superficially about Dudley's work teaching and Harry's children as they made their way to an out-of-the way coffee shop, where they found a quiet corner to talk. 'So why do teachers feel the need to constantly ring to remind us Lily has an assignment due?' Harry asked, stirring his coffee. 'She's got one this year. Every bloody week the mobile rings and Lily threatens to bury it in the woods behind our house.'
Dudley snorted. 'I never do that. I think my students ought to learn to remember to do those things on their own, but I guess I'm old-fashioned.' He took a sip of his latte. 'But I actually have a life, and don't usually get fussed unless the git's habitually skiving off his homework.'
'So... We're here. What did you want to talk about?'
'Oh, well.' Dudley cleared his throat. 'I wanted to thank you.'
'For...?' Harry asked uncertainly.
'I'm not sure what happened that one summer. Right after I was fifteen. In that tunnel. Do you remember?'
Harry circled the rim of his cup with a finger. 'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'I do.'
'Things weren't the same after that,' Dudley continued. 'You said they were... Dementeds? I don't really remember.'
'Dementors,' supplied Harry. 'They used to guard our prison. They don't anymore.'
'I've never felt so terrible in all my life. Do they make everyone feel that way?' Dudley asked curiously.
Harry let out a slow breath. 'Yes and no. They make everyone rather unhappy, but they seem to find the thing that would make you hurt the most and make you live it.'
'I saw my parents kicking me out to the street for my "abnormality". I saw the way they treated you all our lives, and they're my parents for God's sake, I didn't want to think about the idea they could treat me like that. I mean, you know how they feel about conformity.'
Harry nearly inhaled a sip of coffee. 'Conformity is putting it lightly, don't you think?' he coughed.
'I suppose.' Dudley smiled wryly. 'They've rather taken the attempt to be more ordinary than anyone else to a whole new level, haven't they?'
'How long have you known? I mean one of the boys' teachers is gay. Well, if they get to the advanced level of his class, he and his partner teach it together. I've known Gareth and Rafa since before Al was born, and they've said they always knew...'
'Yeah.' Dudley cradled his cup between his large hands. 'That's about right.' He took a gulp of his drink. 'I didn't want to be different. So I tried everything to be normal, whatever the hell that is. I tried to be what I thought a real man was. You do whatever you can to bury the sense of self-loathing. I knew my parents loved the ordinary, average Dudley. When I was seventeen, I think if I had come out to them, they might have treated me worse than you. I think I knew that before then. I didn't want to admit it to anyone, least of all myself. And to make up for how badly I felt about me, I took it out on everyone.' Dudley looked at the table's scarred surface. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, but earnestly. He met Harry's eyes. 'I'm so sorry for how I treated you when we were children. I don't have an excuse. And I don't expect you to ever forgive me for that.'
Harry stared at Dudley. 'I don't quite know what to say...' He toyed with the spoon and set it on the table with a sharp clatter in the quiet room. 'It took years for me to get past that. That first card you sent, it took me a year to be able to send one back to you.'
'I was really surprised when you did.'
'Yeah, well...' Harry rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. 'I've done a lot of things for the sake of my children that I never thought I'd do. When James was born, figured maybe, maybe it was time to let a few things go for good...' Harry gazed at Dudley. 'Why did you send that first card?'
Dudley tilted his chair on its back two legs, eyes tracing the pattern of moldings on the ceiling. 'I needed to try. You see, I also remember when that old bloke came to get you when we were sixteen -- the one with the long beard?'
'My Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore.'
'Yeah. He said something about Mum and Dad damaging me. I was quite thick when I was younger so it took a while for what he meant to sink in. I didn't want to think about it, but when I went back to school, I realized I needed to quit hiding. I needed to stop trying to be something I wasn't. I needed to stop trying to conform to this idea of what was normal. And I needed to take a long, hard look at what I'd done with my life and try to change it.'
Harry sipped his coffee, more out of a need for something to do, than out of thirst. 'How did you find me?'
'Google,' Dudley replied promptly.
'Figures,' Harry muttered.
'You know Google?' Dudley asked, surprise evident on his face.
'Yeah. The kids have had to use a computer occasionally for school. Primary school.'
'Anyway,' Dudley sighed. 'I just wanted to apologize in person.' He pushed his chair back and stood up. 'It was really nice to see you. Thanks for letting me do this.' He started to walk away.
'Dudley?' Harry said suddenly. Dudley stopped and half-turned toward the table. 'We should do this again sometime.' Harry took a deep breath and blurted, 'Maybe we could even have dinner? You, me, Gin, and Aaron?'
Dudley nodded. 'I'd like that.' With that, he left and Harry was left alone at the table, staring into the remains of his scummy coffee.
'What did I just do?' he asked aloud, glancing at his cousin's retreating form.
Breakfast brought the usual flurry of owls to the Gryffindor table, so Scorpius wasn't surprised when a strange owl landed in front of him. His grandmother often used Owl Post to spare her owl the frequent journeys from France. He took the letter it offered him and tucked it into his pocket. He could read it later. After he finished his homework for Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration. They had really piled it on this weekend. Professor Trentham in particular had set them a two-foot essay about changing insects into inanimate objects. And because some of the more idiotic members of the Potions class had not followed directions, causing a massive explosion that left the dungeon's ceiling coated in a foul-smelling, acid yellow paste, they had to write an essay detailing proper classroom procedures for Potions class. They also had to pinpoint exactly where those particular students had gone wrong with their assigned potion for the day. He, Al, and Rose were looking forward to a long, dreary day cooped up in the library.
Isabella plopped into the bench on the opposite side of the table. 'Are you sure you can't spare an hour to play Quidditch today?'
'Izzy, we've been through this. Williams' and Trentham's essays are going to take all day, as it is.' Rose gave her older cousin a look that reminded everybody of her mother.
'You can't do it tomorrow?' Isabella asked, undeterred.
'We've got Neville's, too,' Al reminded her. 'That's not exactly an easy one, either.'
'Oh, please,' Maddie huffed. 'Neville's class is so bloody easy, you'd have to be a troll to fail it.'
'Blame Greengrass, and his lot.' Rose's ears turned red. 'They started throwing dragon dung fertilizer and it took Neville so long to get the class settled and cleaned up, that we didn't get to finish the lesson, so he's assigned us each an herb to grow for use in Potions before the Easter holiday, and we have to research the best ways to cultivate it,' she rattled.
'You have the worst class,' Fred commented.
'And that's saying something, coming from us,' added Jacob.
James nodded vigorously, his cheeks distended with potatoes.
'James, that's disgusting!' exclaimed Maddie. 'Must you act like you haven't eaten in months?'
James merely shrugged.
Isabella shook her head. 'Fine,' she said tiredly. 'Just remember we've got practice tomorrow after breakfast.'
'We'll be there,' Al promised. 'I know, we've got that match against Hufflepuff coming up soon, and you don't want to lose to Parker. Keep the streak alive,' he said in a too-hearty voice.
'I hope you attitude improves before then,' Isabella pronounced haughtily.
Scorpius burst into peals of laughter. 'Izzy, of all the people on the team, Al's attitude is not the one you have to worry about. He all but sleeps with a Snitch clutched in one hand.'
'You weren't supposed to say that!' hissed Al in severe mortification.
Scorpius slowly shut the heavy book and rested his head on the polished surface of the table. 'I don't ever want to look at another word about how to grow shrivelfigs in Britain ever again until I have to take N.E.W.T.s.'
'You can stay that again,' seconded Rose. 'I'm going to kill Greengrass.'
'I'll hold him down while you do it,' volunteered Al, rubbing his eyes. 'What time is it, anyway?'
Rose checked her watch. 'Past lunch, but not quite dinner.'
'Could be worse,' Scorpius said, his voice muffled by the table. 'We could have missed dinner altogether.'
'Bite your tongue!' whispered Rose, scandalized. 'I'm starving...' she moaned.
'Sorry, Rosie,' Scorpius sighed. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out the letter he'd received that morning. He frowned at the handwriting on the front. It didn't belong to his grandmother. Or his mother, or Teddy. And while it had been a while since he'd seen his father's handwriting, it didn't belong to his father, either. With more than a bit of trepidation, Scorpius slowly unsealed the envelope.
16 January 2019
Dear Scorpius,
I'm really sorry for how I behaved when you were here at Christmas. You've always been nice to me, even when my brothers haven't. You're not the only one with dodgy family. My dad has some pretty awful ones, and he's still nice.
I really do like the book you gave me. I read it all the time.
I hope you get to come over during the summer holidays.
Sincerely,
Lily Potter
'What's that?' Al asked peering over Scorpius' shoulder.
'Nothing,' Scorpius said hastily, folding the letter and shoving it into his bag.
'Didn't look like nothing.'
'It's nothing,' Scorpius repeated, a small smile playing on his mouth, opening the book in front of him, and continuing with his essay.
Harry trudged into the Leaky Cauldron after spending most of the afternoon wandering around London. He squinted around the dim room and spotted Neville nursing a pint at the end of the bar. 'Hey, Neville,' he said wearily.
'Harry!' Neville exclaimed in genuine pleasure. 'What are you doing here?'
'Just spent the afternoon trying to figure out why I suggested to my cousin that he and his partner ought to have dinner with Gin and me sometime,' Harry explained, and proceeded to give Neville the details of his conversation with Dudley.
'So what's the problem?'
'I think perhaps dinner might be a bit much,' Harry sighed.
Neville's brow knit in confusion. 'I thought the two of you got on a lot better these days.'
'We do,' admitted Harry. 'It's just kind of hard to forget all the other things he did to me when I was growing up. When it's just cards or letters, he's kind of something abstract to me. He's not a real person.'
Neville slid off his stool and thoughtfully drew another pint for himself and one of Harry. He set the glasses down on the bar and came back around. 'Can I ask you something odd?'
'Sure.'
'If you didn't have to deal with Malfoy twice a year, would you start to think of him in the abstract?'
'Probably.'
'So because you have to interact with Malfoy, are you more inclined to see him as real person, and not a collection of behaviors or someone to despise on principle?'
Harry tilted the glass back and took a few swallows of the bitter Neville had given him. He thought back over all he knew about Draco. The memories Harry had seen, tinged with bitter self-hatred and loathing. The sheer mental abuse from the experience of living with Bellatrix Lestrange was enough to make Harry pity the man. The longing to understand his son, mixed with confusion about the disappointment Draco had felt when he realized Scorpius had forged his own path, in total disregard of familial traditions. And the utter helplessness in the face of the fact nothing in his life had turned out they way he thought it was supposed to be. 'I guess,' he replied slowly.
'And by the same token, it bothers you that you might have been wrong about Dudley,' stated Neville. 'Children tend to follow their parents' lead about how to handle themselves. And when you'd rather die than be the odd one, you do what you have to do to blend in. And granted, I've never really met your aunt and uncle, they sound like the type to have chucked your cousin to the street if he'd told them the truth about himself before he was grown and on his own.' Neville drew a finger through a puddle of bitter on the bar. 'And for you to realize he acted the way he did out of a sense of self-preservation is something you can understand. And you can't keep him at arm's length anymore.'
Harry started coughing as he inhaled a swallow of his drink. 'You got all that from this conversation?' he wheezed skeptically.
Neville just shook his head. 'You learn a lot working with children. Especially when they start to empathize with someone they can't stand. Tends to throw them for a loop a bit.'
Harry drained his glass. 'You can say that again,' he muttered. It had been somewhat disconcerting to realize that Dudley had harbored the fear that his parents would abandon him for something as simple as admitting who he was. It wasn't surprising, given how they had treated Harry as a child. He could no more hide his magic, than he could make his hair lie down. It wasn't something he could hide, nor deny, once he'd discovered he could manipulate magic. He couldn't imagine having to suppress something that was as much a part of him as his arms or legs. 'It must have been a nightmare for him,' he said slowly. 'To try and live like that for so long.'
'Probably was.' Neville picked up Harry's glass and refilled it. 'Go easy on that one,' he cautioned. 'It packs quite a punch later.'
'Why didn't I see that before?' Harry mused.
'The truth?' Neville asked.
'Yeah.'
'You can be a little egocentric,' Neville ventured. 'Not in a bad way,' he added quickly when Harry shot him a questioning look. 'You don't think the world revolves around you, and you make every effort to avoid the spotlight, but...' Neville worried his bottom lip between his teeth. 'You can hold a grudge like nobody else I know. Except maybe Ron... It's just that you can wallow in something for years. And it's incredibly difficult to convince you to change your opinion about people. Because you've always gotten the idea that your first impression is the right one. And sometimes it is, but sometimes it's not...' He reached out and tentatively touched Harry on the shoulder. 'Sometimes, you just have to let it go...' he said softly.
Harry jerked in surprise. 'That's what Ginny said last summer...' he murmured.
'She's right.' Neville gave Harry's shoulder a brief squeeze. 'I have to get back to the school, but could you think about something for me?' Harry nodded. 'I didn't have any family left after Gran died. Aside from Hannah's, but you know what I mean.' Harry nodded again. He did know. 'You've got a chance to start over with someone who is your family.' Neville rubbed his eyes. 'I'd give anything to have that.' He slid off his stool. 'Are you coming up for the boys' next game?'
'Yeah. Ginny and I thought we'd go up see them play.'
'I hope we'll see you.' Neville disappeared into Hannah's office.
Harry picked up his glass and upended it, swallowing the bitter left in it. It was time to go home.
Harry trailed through the front door of the house, shedding his coat as he did so. It was unnaturally quiet for a Saturday evening. 'Ginny?' he called. 'Lily? Are you here?'
'I'm in the kitchen,' Ginny replied.
Harry followed the sound of Ginny's voice. 'Hey.' He noticed the table setting and picked up a plate, examining it closely. It was the set of china Andromeda had given them at their wedding -- the set intended for Remus and Tonks when they had married. 'This is the good china,' he commented.
'Yes, it is.'
'When was the last time we had this out?' Harry set the plate back on the table, taking in the heavy Irish linen tablecloth. It had been a wedding gift from Seamus and they rarely used it. 'It's been at least ten years,' he commented, tracing the chrysanthemum pattern woven into it.
'A bit more than eleven years,' corrected Ginny.
Harry stood behind Ginny and wrapped his arms around her waist. 'That's an awfully long time. What's the occasion?'
'It's been one of those weeks,' she sighed. 'I thought we could use a nice, quiet dinner. Just the two of us.'
'Where's Lily?' Harry asked.
'With Charlie and Bronwyn. She asked if she could go to the reservation when I went to Holyhead to cover the Keeper tryouts this afternoon.'
Harry dipped his finger into the sauce Ginny stirred on the stove. 'They didn't mind?'
'Nope.'
'What's the catch?' Harry asked in mock-suspicion. They didn't mind watching each other's children from time to time.
Ginny grinned wryly. 'We've got Aiden next week.'
'Yeah, that'll be really difficult,' Harry told her. 'Because Aiden's such a demanding child,' he added impishly.
Ginny snorted and batted Harry's hand away as it made another attempt to delve into the béchamel sauce. 'Stop that,' she muttered. 'He's nearly as quiet as Charlie,' she said. I think they might have said ten words between the two of them when I dropped Lily off.'
'Poor Aiden,' Harry said sympathetically. 'Two weekends in a row as Lily's captive audience.'
Ginny handed Harry a bottle of wine. 'Here, open this...'
'It doesn't add up, though.'
'What doesn't?'
Harry pried the cork from the mouth of the bottle. 'We'll have Aiden, but not Owen?'
Ginny carefully set a platter on the table. 'He's going to Bronwyn's father's for the weekend. Daffyd has a shift in the hatchery, and Owen's mad for dragons.'
Harry pulled out Ginny's chair for her. 'Since we're being civilized tonight...' He sat in his own chair and poured a glass of wine for each of them.
Ginny took a sip of the wine, letting it slide down the back of her throat. 'So how did it go today?' she asked nonchalantly.
Harry didn't answer her immediately. He concentrated instead on filling his plate, then drizzling an alarming amount of the béchamel over the broccoli -- he wouldn't eat it unless it was drowning in some sort of sauce. 'It was all right,' he finally told her, taking a bite of his broccoli.
Ginny rolled her eyes and forked a piece of chicken to her plate. 'Just all right?'
Harry glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. 'Interesting,' he elaborated.
'Must have been. You were gone an awfully long time.'
Harry set his fork down and picked up his wineglass. 'Actually, we weren't together that much,' he admitted. 'Less than an hour.'
'He must not have said anything untoward,' Ginny stated. 'If he had, you'd still be seething about it.'
'Am I that bad?' Harry huffed exasperatedly. 'First Neville, now you.'
Ginny cocked her head to one side, and slowly gave Harry a once-over. 'You were when you were younger. If someone or something had upset you, you fairly vibrated with it. More controlled about it now, though, but it depends on a host of other things.'
'Like...?' Harry asked warily.
Ginny carefully cut a bite of chicken while she formulated an answer. 'What day of the week it is, whether you're sober or not, what you've been doing before, whether or not James is up to his elbows in something guaranteed to take the mickey out of Al or Lily... '
'Cute,' Harry deadpanned.
'It's true,' Ginny informed her husband. 'But I digress. It's been a while since you blasted something out of sheer irritation, but I've known you for how long now? Over twenty-five years? I know when you're upset about something, even if you're not about to make a new doorway for the scullery.'
Harry turned his gaze to his plate, and shoved a broccoli spear around a pool of béchamel. 'I think I might have done something I might regret later...' he said slowly.
'You didn't hex him, did you?' Ginny asked, her brows drifting up slightly in alarm.
'No. I invited him out to dinner. The four of us.'
'How is this a bad thing?' Ginny swallowed half her glass of wine. 'You can't possibly believe he's going to be the same as he was before.'
'No, it's not Dudley that's going to be the problem... It's me.' Harry confessed. He pushed his chair away from the table and began to pace around the kitchen. 'He seems to have moved past it all, but what if I haven't been able to? What if I can't?'
Ginny reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's wrist as he walked by, her fingertips resting on the pulse that raced faster than the wings of a Snitch. Her hand tightened around his wrist. 'Look at me...' He kept his gaze on the floor. 'Harry, look at me.' Ginny could see his eyes squeeze shut, and she stood, using her free hand to tilt his chin up, as if he was one of the children. 'Harry, look at me...' she demanded softly. Painfully, he met her eyes. 'If you hadn't gotten past it, then what would you call the past fourteen years?'
'Being polite?' he retorted.
'You never had to reply to his cards or letters, but you have. Every single one. And you went today.' Ginny made Harry sit in his chair and released his wrist.
'I don't know what to do,' Harry admitted in a tight whisper. 'It's just too damn hard to forget.'
'Nobody's asking you to forget.'
'He apologized,' Harry said. 'He wanted to apologize in person. And he said he didn't expect forgiveness.' He clasped his hands together in his lap. 'I don't think I can.'
Ginny picked up the wineglass and swirled it, watching the candlelight glow through the ruby liquid. 'What if you started over?'
'What?'
'People change. I'm not telling you to forgive the Dudley that treated you so horribly when you were younger. But could you at least give this one a chance. He's been just as much a victim of his parents as you were. And both of you survived.' Ginny leaned closer and brushed a soft kiss across Harry's mouth. 'Just promise me you'll think about it.' She picked up her plate and carried to the counter, leaving most of her dinner uneaten.
Harry rested his elbows on his knees and watched Ginny leave the kitchen. He looked at his cooling dinner and made a face, before his eye caught Ginny's abandoned place. He sighed and mentally smacked himself. She had planned a nice evening for the two of them, and he had completely ruined it. Neville's right... I do let so much get to me that it damn near ruins everything else. It's a wonder Ginny puts up with me. He carried his own plate to the sink, and began to carefully wash the dishes by hand. Ginny would cheerfully murder him in his sleep if he chipped a plate. In time, he had washed and dried all the dishes and stowed them away in the dresser. He flicked his wand at the tablecloth, and it folded itself neatly. Harry picked it up and put it away. He turned the lights out and went upstairs to their bedroom.
Ginny's clothes were heaped on the floor outside the bathroom, and Harry put a hand on the doorknob. 'Gin?' he called through the door. She didn't answer. Harry dropped into the armchair in the corner and picked up the frame that sat on the table. There were two sides: one side held a photograph of the two of them from their wedding day taken just as dusk was falling and the fairy lights strung through the trees began to twinkle; the other was from that past Christmas of the five of them at the Burrow.
For the second time that week, Harry wondered how much different his life would have been, had he not met the Weasleys.
TWENTY SEVEN -- Dinner Plans
Harry stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, attempting to wind a knot in his tie. He hated wearing the bloody things, and rarely had the occasion to wear one, save for a few times a year, when he had to dress up for a Ministry occasion, as the Head of his department. His normal attire at work usually consisted of jeans and a shirt or jumper. He looked down and noticed the smaller end of the tie extended several inches past the wider part. 'Damn it,' he muttered, yanking the fabric from underneath the collar of his shirt. Sighing, he threaded it through the collar again and managed to mangle the knot once more. 'Ginny! Help!'
Ginny walked out of the bathroom, fastening her earrings. 'Settle down, Harry...' She nudged him to the foot of the bed, making him sit down, and unfastened the mess he had made of the tie, aligning the ends and knotting the tie carefully, settling the knot against the base of his throat.
'Why did I agree to do this?' he groaned.
'Because you're a nice person,' Ginny told him sardonically. 'And I said you had to.'
'Mum! Teddy's here!' Lilly yelled up the stairs.
Ginny presented her back to Harry. 'Zip me up?'
He grasped the small tab and pulled it up to the top of the bodice of the dress. 'Nice dress,' he grunted.
'Does it make my bum look fat?' Ginny asked, peering over her shoulder and down her back, twisting to get a better angle.
Harry's hands landed on either side of her hips. 'You look fine,' he said automatically. He stood up, and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. 'Ready to go?'
'I should ask you that,' Ginny said, picking up her wrap. She stopped in front of the mirror and tried to see the back of her dress. 'Are you sure this doesn't make my bum look fat?' she persisted.
'Ginny, you look fine.'
'Maybe I should change...' Ginny turned to the wardrobe and began to rifle through the contents.
'Ginny, you look great,' Harry sighed in exasperation. 'Why are you so worried about how you look? It's just dinner with Dudley.'
'I don't want to make a bad impression.'
Harry took a step back to take in Ginny. The simple black dress and upswept hair was reminiscent of Breakfast at Tiffany's. 'You look lovely, Gin.'
'Thank you.' She kissed his cheek, then used her thumb to wipe away the smudge of lipstick. 'Ready?'
'I'm as ready for this as I'll ever be,' Harry told her, shrugging into his jacket. He went down the stairs and found Teddy lounging on the sofa with Lily. 'Okay, Teddy, you know the drill...'
Teddy glanced up at Harry, grinning as he changed his hair to match Lily's. 'I know... The pizza's on its way, Lily has to eat dinner, and go easy on the ice cream. Bed at nine.' He winked at Lily. 'I've been doing this since I was sixteen.'
'Thanks for giving up your Saturday, Teddy,' Ginny said, kissing his cheek over the back of the sofa.
'Ah, no worries,' he said. 'Vic's got some monster study session this weekend anyway. They've got that test to see if they're allowed to continue through the second year next month.'
'We'll be back by eleven at the latest,' Harry told Teddy. 'Maybe earlier.'
'All right. We'll be here.' Teddy watched his godparents leave the house and turned to Lily. 'Okay squirt, what do you have planned for us tonight? Hair plaits? Funky nail varnish colors on my fingers, guaranteed to make your mum start screeching?'
Lily shrugged. 'No blue varnish tonight. Mum hid it all.'
'That's a shame. Vic likes the blue.' Teddy grinned at Lily conspiringly. He took out his wand and said firmly, 'Accio blue nail varnish!' A small bottle flew from the upstairs cupboard and landed in Teddy's outstretched palm. 'After we eat dinner, I'll let you give me a makeover,' he promised.
Lily grinned at Teddy. 'Thanks.'
Harry and Ginny approached the restaurant with mild trepidation. Whatever Harry was expecting, it wasn't the small, dimly lit Italian café. It was decidedly cozy and unpretentious. He held the door open for Ginny and followed her inside. They scanned the tables, looking for Dudley. 'We're early,' Ginny said, looking at her watch.
Harry gestured to the bar tucked into a corner. 'Want a drink while we wait?'
'Sure.'
Settling at a small table with their drinks, Ginny nudged Harry. 'It's really nice that you're doing this.'
Harry shrugged. 'Could you please stop telling me how nice I'm being?' He set his glass on the table. 'I don't feel very nice. I feel like I'm doing this because I ought to do it.'
'You could have said no, or made some other excuse,' she pointed out.
'I suppose.'
'Harry!' Dudley waved at them from the door. A lanky man stood next to him, with a shy smile on his face.
Harry felt his lips stretch into a smile. 'Petunia'd lose her mind if she saw him do something like that,' he said to Ginny, under the cover of taking a sip of his Scotch.
'Oh, stop,' Ginny chided, standing up. She held out a hand. 'Dudley it's nice to see you again.' She turned to the man next to him. 'You must be Aaron. It's nice to finally meet you.'
'And you're Ginny. I recognize you from the photographs.' Aaron shook her hand.
'The table's ready,' Dudley said, clearing his throat nervously. Ginny and Aaron followed the hostess to a table tucked into a corner. Dudley held Harry back. 'Can I have a quick word?'
'Uh, okay...'
'Um, those people that stayed with us...? They said we shouldn't tell people about your abilities. People like me, I mean.'
'Yeah.' Harry was wondering where Dudley was going with this.
'I haven't told Aaron about you. The... You know...'
'What have you told him?'
'Just that you work as a police detective and the boys go to a school for gifted children.'
'And Gin?'
Dudley gave Harry a wry smile. 'That she works for a newspaper. Oddly enough, it's the closest to the truth for all of you.'
Harry picked up his glass and drained it, grimacing as the liquor burned its way down his throat. 'There's a provision for family members for the secrecy statute,' he mumbled. 'I guess that would include him.'
'Really?' A faint hope shone on Dudley's face. 'You don't mind that?'
'No.' Harry shook his head. 'There are some people who do, but most don't. We deal with enough prejudice as it is.'
Dudley started to walk to the table. 'I suppose that makes sense.'
They joined Ginny and Aaron, who were chatting easily, perusing the menu. Harry once again marveled at Ginny's ability to socialize. It was something that didn't come easily to him, so he was grateful she could fill in the blanks and silences that usually came from him.
The dinner went surprisingly well, thanks to the buffering presences of Aaron and Ginny. The food was good and gradually Harry began to relax a little. 'I've been dying to meet other members of Dudley's family,' Aaron was saying to Ginny. 'The ones I've met so far are...' He searched for an appropriate word. 'Interesting,' he said finally.
'Oh, come off it,' Dudley snorted. 'My aunt's a bitch.' He saw Harry's mouth fall open. Harry bit his lip in an attempt not to laugh. 'No pun intended, either.'
'She's why we have a cat,' Aaron added. 'Two actually. Two of laziest, most ungrateful creatures that have ever meowed.'
'Unless she's come to visit with my parents and brings her dog. Then Sebastian and Belle keep that ugly mutt cowed into submission.' Dudley sipped his water. 'I wish we could charge admission.'
'Who are you and what have you done with Dudley?' Harry blurted. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it had been the worst thing he could have said.
'Harry!' Ginny hissed. She impaled him with a look that wouldn't have looked out of place if Harry had been one of the children.
'Are you going to hold my entire childhood against me for the rest of my life?' Dudley asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the goblet of water in front of him.
'I'm sorry,' Harry mumbled. He heard the reverberations of his conversation with Neville though his mind. 'I have... A hard time letting a lot of that go...' He looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye, but she was glaring at him stonily. 'It's not you. They're my issues,' he confessed. He excused himself from the table and headed for the men's toilets. Once inside, he locked the door and began to splash water on his face.
Ginny flushed and refrained from fidgeting with embarrassment. 'He's not normally like this,' she apologized, twisting her serviette under the table.
Aaron sat quietly for a moment, then wordlessly rose from his chair. He touched Dudley's shoulder briefly. 'I'll be back in a bit.' He wound through the tables and came to a stop outside the door to the men's toilets. He waited patiently for Harry to emerge. In a few minutes, Harry opened the door, looking decidedly shaken. 'He's been looking forward to this for weeks,' Aaron said mildly. 'He talks about you constantly. He was thrilled when he ran into you at the train station back in January. When he gets a letter from you, it makes his week. He keeps the photographs of your family on the mantle at our flat.' Aaron shifted from foot to foot a bit, knowing he was treading dangerous waters. 'I know what he was like when the two of you were growing up. I know about the bullying and the way he treated you. I know all of it. I know about the times he stood by and let people mistreat you. He's been brutally honest about it with me. And he blames himself for a lot of it. He's not the same person you remember.' Aaron straightened his tie nervously. 'His parents don't really talk to him much. In some ways, you're all he has left.' Aaron put his hand on the doorknob and looked at Harry over his shoulder. 'When you agreed to do this, I hoped that it meant you were ready to move on. I guess I was wrong.' The door opened and closed softly.
Harry's shoulders slumped. He warily approached the table and stood behind his chair, his hands gripping the top. 'I'm sorry,' Harry said gruffly to Dudley. He looked at Ginny. 'We should go...' He pulled his wallet from an inside pocket of his jacket, and took out several notes, laying them on the table. He looked at Dudley and Aaron, who had just rejoined them. 'Good night, Dudley. It was nice to finally meet you, Aaron. It's been an... Enlightening evening.'
Ginny picked up her wrap and draped it over her shoulders. She threw a glance at Harry and tilted her head toward the door. 'I'll be along in a moment. You look like you could use some air,' she hinted. Harry's eyes narrowed, but Ginny returned his gaze coolly. Huffing slightly, he turned and left. 'It takes him some time. I won't make excuses for his behavior tonight.' Dudley nodded grimly. 'I hope you won't give up on him. He doesn't trust people easily, still.'
Dudley shrugged, his face impassive, but Ginny could see the glint of hurt in his eyes. 'I think it's best if we go back to the way things were. At least for now.'
'You're probably right.' Ginny tightened the wrap around her. 'I'm sorry this didn't turn out as well as we had hoped. Good night.' She went to the door and found Harry pacing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
He looked at her, and kept pacing. 'Don't start,' he warned.
'I wasn't.'
'I need to walk.'
'Do you want me to come with you?'
Harry shook his head. 'I just need to be alone right now.'
Ginny gave him a curt nod. 'I'll see you at home, then.' She watched him set off down the sidewalk, his hands jammed into his pockets. She slipped into a deserted side street and Disapparated home.
Teddy's shoulder-length dark auburn hair had been woven into a web of elaborate plaits, twined with brightly-colored ribbons. The remains of a pizza, several root beer bottles, and bowls lined with the sticky residue of ice cream and hot fudge littered the coffee table. Teddy sat patiently, while Lily carefully drew a brush laden with sparkling turquoise varnish down his nails. He gently blew on one hand to dry the varnish. 'So, you and Scorp made up, I take it?'
'We weren't fighting,' Lily corrected primly. 'Not like I do with James.'
'I stand corrected.' Teddy examined his nails critically. 'Is he coming with James and Al for Easter holidays?'
'I don't know. They haven't asked.'
'How's school going?'
'I hate going to Muggle school,' Lily complained. 'My history teacher always rings the house to tell Mum and Dad I have homework.'
'Muggle school's not so bad,' Teddy cajoled. 'It helps when you start Hogwarts. A lot of the kids I knew who didn't go to a primary school of some sort had a tougher time adapting to school.'
Lily shrugged. 'Muggle school has stupid Sammy Martin. And he's probably going to Hogwarts with me in September.'
'Nothing says he's going to be Sorted into the same House as you. It's not like you have to be friends with him.'
'I suppose,' yawned Lily.
Teddy waved his wand over his nails, performing a Drying charm. 'Go upstairs and brush your teeth, pumpkin. I'll come tuck you in, in a bit.'
'I'm too old to be tucked in, Teddy,' she said scornfully.
'Humor me.'
'Okay,' Lily giggled, scampering up the stairs.
Teddy followed her a several minutes later. She was sitting in her bed, with Cadbury the bunny in her lap. Lily slid under the quilt and Teddy pulled it up to her shoulders. 'All right, then, pumpkin. G'night.' He kissed her forehead.
'Night, Teddy,' she sighed, and turned over to her side.
Teddy turned out the lamp next to her bed, and slipped out of the room, closing the door. He went back downstairs, and jabbed his wand at the mess on the coffee table. The discarded ribbons coiled themselves neatly next to the nail varnish, and the pizza box and empty bottles vanished. He picked up the bowls and took them into the kitchen, setting them to wash themselves. When they were done, and put away in the cupboard, he dragged himself to the sofa and flopped down into the cushions. He had been on the morning shift all week at work. Waking up early was not one of Teddy's talents. Andromeda told him he got that from his mother. His father, on the other hand, was an early riser, and routinely woke before dawn, no matter how late he had gone to bed. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Harry and Ginny wouldn't be back for a couple of hours.
Harry walked through the streets of London, his shoulders hunched against the damp chill of the March evening. For reasons he didn't understand, his thoughts turned to Draco. Here was a man who had rejected any and all chances to steer his adult life in a different direction and now look at him -- he lived a rather isolated life, cut off from most polite wizarding society; his relationship with his wife, mother, and son were insubstantial enough to be nonexistent. Harry could see Ginny chatting easily with Dudley, able to see past the memories Harry had shared with her. Dudley had made an effort to change, and it appeared he had succeeded, and Harry was the one unable to accept that things had changed.
The house was dark, except for the light spilling from the sitting room. Ginny opened the door, and pulled her high-heeled shoes off, sighing in relief as she wiggled her toes. She padded into the sitting room. Teddy was sound asleep on the sofa. Ginny stifled her giggles as she took in the elaborate system of plaits and ribbons that adorned his hair and the sparkly nail varnish. She leaned down to shake him awake. 'Teddy?' she whispered.
'Unnnnhhh,' he mumbled.
'Teddy, sweetie, we're home. You can stay the night here, if you want.'
Teddy arched his back and yawned. 'Huh?'
'Go up to James' room and go to bed,' Ginny ordered. Teddy rolled off the sofa and got to his feet and stumbled upstairs. Ginny went around the sitting room, turning off the lights. She went up the stairs checked on Lily, before going into her bedroom.
Ginny walked into the bathroom and pulled the hairpins from her hair, shaking it down from its neat chignon. She twisted to pull the zipper of the dress down, cursing under her breath until the dress landed in a heap at her feet. She gave herself a hasty wash, and brushed her teeth. Ginny strode back into the bedroom, a grabbed the first thing her hand landed on in the laundry basket sitting in the armchair. It was one of Harry's tshirts. She pulled it over her head and climbed into bed.
She curled on her side, facing Harry's side of the bed. She had pushed Harry to have this dinner with Dudley. Upon reflection, it hadn't been such a good idea. She thought that after almost twenty years of marriage, that she could gauge his reactions with a fair amount of accuracy. She thought he had taken her words about giving Dudley another chance to heart. The dinner, she concluded, had been an unmitigated disaster.
The next thing she knew, Harry was climbing into bed, wrapping his chilled body around hers. 'What time is it?' she asked sleepily.
'After two,' he said. He buried his face against her neck. 'Am I like Malfoy?'
Ginny sat up. 'What?'
'Am I like Malfoy?'
'That's a rather large leap of thought to make,' Ginny replied, pushing her hair away from her face.
'He didn't change after the war,' Harry explained. 'And you could argue, neither have I. I've never managed to forgive Dudley, no matter how much he's demonstrated he's not who I grew up with.'
Ginny leaned back against the headboard, and began to wind her hair into a loose plait. Something jarred her memory. 'Do you remember that week after Al was born?'
'Vividly.'
'Dad told me the hardest thing you could do was forgive someone, because it meant having to let go of something you've believed for a long time.' She glanced at Harry. 'Just something for you to think about.'
'I suppose.' Harry closed his eyes. 'I'm a horrible person.'
Ginny snorted. 'Hardly.'
'You didn't hear what Aaron said to me.'
'I have a good idea.' Ginny bound the end of the plait with an elastic. 'It's probably what I would have said to someone who was questioning your morals.'
'That about covers it.' Harry yanked his glasses off and tossed them to his night table. 'I'm such a bloody hypocrite. I make such a fat, hairy deal of telling Lily to not to hold things against Scorpius, and I'm holding a grudge for over thirty years.'
'At least you realize that,' Ginny stated.
'Fat lot of good it does me.' Harry punched his pillow in frustration. 'I always wanted my own family when I was small. Like you did, and I finally have a chance to have that, and I just fucked it all up.'
Ginny slid back down into bed and gazed at Harry. 'I have a question for you, then I'm going back to sleep.'
'All right.'
'Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Aaron do the same sort of thing Hermione does? Just with people and not magical beings?'
'Yeah...'
'He spends his life making sure people are treated fairly. Do you honestly believe he would be with someone who's dishonest and treats other people badly?'
The flurry of owls at breakfast was normally not cause for alarm, but Scorpius had come to dread the appearance of his mother's owl before school holidays. Last Christmas had been particular uncomfortable at times, and as much as he enjoyed spending the holiday with his mother and grandmother, his father's oppressive scrutiny had made him wary of going home for the short holidays. At least during the summers, they could avoid the forced camaraderie, except for dinner, and more often than not, his father didn't eat with them.
He reluctantly took the letter the owl proffered, and shoved it in his schoolbag. He had a free period after lunch that day, where he could find a place to read it, away from prying eyes. Draco had drummed it into his head from the beginning that his correspondence was a private matter, not to be read in the bustle and crowds of the Great Hall.
He stumbled his way through Defense lesson and barely paid attention to the Potions lessons, earning himself a detention the next evening, and extra homework that night. He picked through his lunch and dashed up to the Gryffindor common room, ignoring Rose and Al. He curled into a squishy armchair near a window and dug the letter from his schoolbag. The contents didn't surprise him. Daphne had written to say that they were going to Nice for the Easter holiday, and he had her permission to spend it with Albus in Godric's Hollow, if he was invited. Scorpius balled up the letter and threw it into the fire. He could nearly feel the waves of disappointment radiating off the page. His mother always hated that he couldn't come home for the shorter holidays more often, but his father usually planned their departures so early, that it wasn't feasible for Scorpius to join them.
He stared out the window at the dreary March landscape, unaware that Rose and Al had joined him. 'So...?' Rosie asked gently.
'So the usual,' Scorpius said flatly. 'Mother and Father are going to France two weeks before Easter, so...' He shrugged. 'It's not like Easter is that big of a deal. Plenty of people will be here.'
'You can always go home with us,' Al suggested. 'Mum and Dad don't mind.'
Scorpius shook his head. 'I can't keep doing that,' he said morosely.
'Why not?' demanded Rose.
'Rosie...' hissed Al.
'Well, honestly, why not?' Rose persisted.
'Rosie, stop...' Al begged.
Scorpius uncurled himself from the depths of the armchair and got to his feet. 'I can't substitute your family for mine,' he said matter-of-factly.
'That's not what I'm saying,' Rose huffed impatiently.
'Look, Rosie, I know you mean well, but how long do you think Al's parents are going to think it's fine to let me stay with them?'
'As long as you need to,' Al said. 'Dad used to spend as much time as he could with Mum's family. His godfather actually ran away from home and lived with my grandfather and his parents for a while. It's almost a family tradition by now.'
'I don't know,' Scorpius said doubtfully.
'Look, Scorpius, Easter's not for another month,' Al began. 'If you change your mind...'
'Yeah...' Scorpius bent to pick up his bag. 'Come on. We'll be late for Transfiguration, and Trentham will give us extra homework.'
Rose held Al back a little. 'You should write to Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and have then invite Scorpius for Easter.' She started walking a little faster. 'Or Teddy!' she exclaimed. 'He has an extra room in his flat! And they're actually family!'
'Rosie, calm down,' Al warned. 'Teddy might be working that week.'
'Then he can go to your house while Teddy's working.'
'Rose... Stop...' Al ordered. 'It's nice that you want to wrap it all up neatly, but there are just some things you should leave alone. Scorpius works on his own schedule. You should know that after last year.'
'It's not fair,' she muttered mutinously.
'What's not?'
'We've got everything. And his father can't be bothered to make an effort.'
'Yeah, well.' Al shifted his bag a bit higher on his shoulder. 'Life's not fair, Rosie.'
TWENTY EIGHT -- Mind the Gap
Harry sat at his desk, cursing the amount of paperwork that never seemed to lessen and hadn't in the more than ten years he'd been the Head of his department. He had taken to bringing it home with him on Saturdays, just so he didn't have to stay late every night to complete it. He hated that it took time away from Ginny and Lily on Saturday, but he could usually finish it by lunch time if he got up early enough. Lately, he was having trouble concentrating on it. Looking through the files of people who couldn't find their way past a bad idea with a map and a direction spell kept sending him into the depths of his own psyche. Self-reflection had never been one of his favorite activities. It was like probing a gaping wound with a sharp stick most of the time.
He was the first to admit his own bad behavior had sent the dinner with Dudley and Aaron into a tailspin. Treating anything Dudley said or did with a large amount of skepticism was a habit, and one that Harry acknowledged he hadn't tried very hard to change. Harry looked at the stack of parchment in front of him and shoved it aside, resting his head on the desk. The sound of the mobile buzzing made him jerk his head away from the desk and blurt a few words that he normally didn't use. Not out loud, at any rate. He snatched up the mobile just as it stopped vibrating. 'One missed call,' he mumbled. He hoped it wasn't Lily's history teacher. She was a nice enough lady, but the weekly telephone calls were a bit much for him. The mobile began to buzz again, and Harry glanced down at the screen. It was Dudley. He hesitated for a moment, before flipping it open. Ginny had told him what Dudley had said, about them taking things back to where they used to be. 'Hello...?'
Dudley ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Neither he, nor Aaron had slept in days. She just wouldn't stop crying. She was dry. She had been fed. They'd done the bouncy walk up and down the sitting room countless times. Dudley had fallen asleep yesterday in class while his students were taking a test. Aaron hadn't shaved in three days and the amount of facial hair he could produce in such a short amount of time was impressive. 'Sarah, please, stop crying...' Aaron ground out wearily. 'I'll give you a pony. I'll even give you my bloody car at this point.' He stopped in the middle of the sitting room, jiggling Sarah. 'My mum always told me I'd get it in spades one day for being a difficult child...' he remarked.
'I'm calling Harry,' Dudley said, reaching for his mobile.
'Why him?' Aaron asked warily.
'Because Muriel and Saffron adopted a three-year old, not a baby. And Elizabeth is at her husband's parents' place in Brighton this weekend. Harold is a hermit on weekends and won't answer his telephone if it's not his wife. Plus, his kid plays footie on Saturdays. Harry's the only other person I know who's had kids and can get here soon...' Dudley began to scroll through the list for Harry's number. 'And I'm getting desperate.' He punched the button to dial the number, and looked at Aaron. 'And so are you...'
'Fine...' Aaron grumbled, resuming his endless loop across the sitting room with Sarah.
'Please pick up,' Dudley breathed. 'Please pick up...' When Harry's mobile went to the voicemail, Dudley took a deep breath and dialed again.
'Hello?' Harry's voice said uncertainly.
'Harry! I'm so glad you picked up!'
Harry's face knit in confusion. 'Okay...'
'Can you come over? Please?' Dudley asked, the misery evident in his voice.
'What for?' Harry winced as a particularly discordant screech drowned out Dudley's reply. 'What was that?'
'The reason we need you to come over... Harry, please, I'm begging you. I haven't slept in three days...'
'Is that a baby?'
'Yes...' Dudley began to walk next to Aaron, patting Sarah on her back. 'It's a long story...'
Harry sighed and pulled the mobile away from his ear, giving it a perplexed frown. 'I'll be there in half an hour.'
'Thank you,' Dudley said breathlessly.
'Yeah...' Harry ended the call and put the mobile down. 'Ginny!' He got up from his chair. 'Ginny!'
'What?' she called back irritably. She was sorting through James' outgrown clothing, a rather lengthy process considering James never threw anything out.
Harry ran up the stairs. 'I'm going out...'
Ginny stopped in the midst of folding a pair of jeans. 'Where? The weather's horrible today.'
Harry heaved a sigh. 'Dudley just rang. He needs some help with something.'
'And he rang you?' Ginny asked dubiously.
Harry nodded. 'I'm sure I was the last person on his list. I'll send word if I'm going to be late.' He went into their bedroom to change from his ratty pajama bottoms and sweatshirt.
Dudley hung up the mobile with a sigh of relief. 'He's coming.' He took Sarah from Aaron and began to pace around the sitting room, while Aaron sagged into an armchair.
'I hope he knows what he's doing,' Aaron groaned, rubbing his temples.
'At this point, between the three of us, he's the expert,' Dudley pointed out.
'I suppose...'
The doorbell rang, and Aaron sprang up to open the door, revealing a very confused Harry. 'Hi... Dudley said something about a baby...?' Harry asked.
'Yeah.' Aaron stepped aside to let Harry in the flat. 'He's in there with her,' he told Harry, pointing to the sitting room.
Feeling more and more bewildered, Harry followed the sounds of angry wailing. Dudley was doggedly trudging from one end of the sitting room to the other, wearily patting the back of a fuzzy pink sleepsuit-clad baby. 'I'm about to ask a very stupid question,' Harry warned. 'But whose baby is that?'
'Ours.' Dudley glanced at Harry over his shoulder. 'We're adopting her. It was between us and some other couple in... Where were they, Aaron?'
'Bloomsbury,' Aaron supplied.
'Right. Bloomsbury.' He shifted Sarah to his other shoulder. 'It's one of those things where the mum meets a few couples and decides who she wants to let adopt the baby. And for some barmy reason, she thought Aaron and I would be good at this.' Sarah's wails increased in volume momentarily. 'But for the last week, we've been nothing but rubbish at it,' he concluded helplessly. 'Oh, this is Sarah,' he said, tilting his head at the baby.
'And I'm here because...?'
'Well, you've done this before,' Dudley stated. 'We've got all those bloody books, and they all say something different...'
'And we're both ready to start crying ourselves,' added Aaron.
Harry held his arms out to Dudley. 'May I?' Dudley laid Sarah into Harry's outstretched arms. 'Wotcher, Sarah,' Harry murmured. 'Are you hungry?' Sarah hiccupped and began to whimper.
'She's been fed; she's got a clean nappy on...' Dudley sighed. 'We tried that swaddling thing, but I couldn't get it set up right.'
'They threw rather a lot of information at us at the hospital,' Aaron admitted. 'We brought her home with us last Saturday, and Monday she just started crying when she's awake.' He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Harry soothingly rubbed the small back under his hand. 'Got a blanket nearby? Lily wouldn't settle down unless she was swaddled to the point of immobility until she was six months old. Ginny and I got really good at it.'
Dudley disappeared and returned with a gingham-patterned flannel blanket. Harry draped it over the sofa and laid the still-whimpering Sarah on it. He tightly wrapped the blanket around her, ignoring the astonished looks on Dudley and Aaron's faces.
'Aren't you being a bit rough with her?' Aaron asked anxiously.
'You should see my motherin-law do this,' Harry snorted. 'The first time she did it to Teddy, my godson, I nearly fainted. I thought his head was going to fall off.' He finished tucking the blanket around Sarah, and lifted her off the sofa. Her whimpers were getting softer and softer. 'There... That's better then, eh?'
Dudley stared at Harry, cuddling Sarah. 'How the hell did you do that?' he blurted.
Harry shrugged. 'Babies sense tension sometimes. James would do this. Cry for hours with Gin, and I'd take him from her and ten minutes later he'd be asleep. Made her nutters. She was convinced she was a bad mother for three months.' Harry glanced at the two men slumped against each other. 'It helped that I hadn't been dealing with him all day like she had,' he said apologetically. 'It's not anything you've been doing or haven't been doing.' He rubbed Sarah's back gently. 'I can stay with her, if you two want to get out for a bit. Go take a walk or something.'
'I don't know...' Dudley said.
'I have fifteen nieces and nephews,' Harry said. 'Plus a godson that I helped raise practically from his birth. Not to mention three children of my own. She'll be okay.'
'It would be nice to get out for few minutes... To look at something besides these four walls...' Aaron wheedled.
'Trust me,' Harry said. 'Do now while you've got the chance.'
Dudley looked at Aaron, who was pleading silently with his large dark eyes. 'Thirty minutes,' he said finally.
'I'll take it,' Aaron said quickly before Dudley could change his mind. He watched Harry rock Sarah for a few moments, while Dudley found a clean jumper. 'Thanks. For coming.'
'Sure.'
Aaron leaned a little closer. 'Does this make us bad parents?' he whispered.
'No.' Harry shifted Sarah slightly. 'You have to get out occasionally. Ginny and I used to foist ours off on her parents every so often. It was the only way we stayed sane.'
'We're not leaving her with my parents,' Dudley stated flatly, pulling a jumper over his head, as he walked into the sitting room. 'She doesn't need a complex before the age of two.' He took Aaron's hand. 'Ready?'
'Yeah. Sarah's room is down the corridor. Second door on the right. There's a rocking chair in there, and some bottles are in the refrigerator,' Aaron said. Harry nodded, as he settled in the armchair with Sarah. 'We won't be long.'
They left the flat, leaving Harry alone with Sarah. She blinked at him in a bemused sort of way that reminded him of the way Al had looked at him as a baby. 'Hi. I'm your... Uh... I guess he's your dad, isn't he...? I'm his cousin, Harry.' He stroked her soft cheek with a finger. 'He's an all right bloke, your dad. He and I used to not get on so well. Actually, we didn't get on at all for a long time. We're not getting on very well right now,' Harry admitted ruefully. 'It's not because of anything he's done recently. Really, he's been rather friendly for a long time now. And I can't let go to something he did over twenty years ago. How stupid is that?' Sarah yawned widely. 'Right. I agree. It's pretty idiotic. The 'new' Dudley didn't fit the memory of him that I had for my entire life when he looked me up. And I didn't want to be bothered to try. It was easier to keep my distance than try and meet him halfway.' Sarah blinked at him a few times. 'Yeah. Just don't tell my wife, all right? She's usually right about these sorts of things and she'll never let me hear the end of it.'
Ginny spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, eyeing Harry. He'd been in a somewhat pensive mood since returning from Dudley's earlier. 'Are you sure you're feeling all right?' she asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.
Harry was perched on the edge of the bathtub, brushing his teeth. 'Mmm-hmmm.' He craned forward to spit out the toothpaste foam. 'I'm fine.'
Ginny tossed her toothbrush into the cup near the sink and shrugged. 'If you say so.' She went into the bedroom, and turned back the quilt, climbing into bed. She picked up her book and settled back to read, only a fraction of her attention on the words in front of her. The rest of it followed Harry into the bed, where he lay staring up at the ceiling.
'Have you ever thought about having another baby?' he asked suddenly.
Ginny jerked in surprise. 'Excuse me?' Her book fell to the floor with a papery thump.
'Another baby,' Harry repeated. 'It might be nice to have another one.'
'Have you lost your bleeding mind?' Ginny inquired sarcastically. 'No, wait, don't answer that...'
'It's just an idea,' Harry said defensively.
'It's a horrible idea,' Ginny retorted. 'One, Lily's going to start school in September. We'd have to start all over again. Two, we're much closer to forty than thirty. Don't you remember how exhausting it all was? And we were a lot younger then.'
'It wasn't that bad,' he murmured.
'Well, it'll be even worse now. If I got pregnant right now, by the time the baby's born, you'll be thirty-nine, and I'll be thirty-eight. We're barely able to keep up with Lily as it is. And as old as I am in terms of fertility, it could take months. Maybe even years. And it's much more dangerous for me to have a baby now that it was when we had James, Al, and Lily.' Harry still looked unconvinced. Ginny drew a deep breath. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to say this. 'And then there's the matter of that little procedure we had done after Lily was born...'
Harry snorted. 'What do you mean by we? I don't recall seeing you get snipped.'
'Okay, fine. You. Git,' Ginny muttered.
'That procedure's reversible,' Harry stated. 'Shanti said so.'
'Remind me have a word with her later...' Ginny massaged her temples for a few minutes. 'Why do you want to have another baby all of a sudden? I thought you were happy with the way things were.'
'I am. I guess.' Harry rolled over to his side, his hand resting on Ginny's stomach. 'Dudley and Aaron adopted a baby. Well, they're in the process of doing it. They needed some help getting her to settle down. Her name's Sarah,' he said, glancing up at her. 'She quieted down, and I sent them out to take a walk. They looked like they'd been hit by a lorry.'
'Things are going that well, then?' Ginny was astonished. 'I'm impressed.'
Harry chuckled. 'Yeah. I told them when Al was born; we looked like we'd been hit by freight trains.' He shifted so Ginny lay beneath him, his weight propped on his elbows. His head dipped so he could kiss her.
'Why didn't he call his mother?'
'Which one?'
'Either of them.'
Harry's lips trailed down the side of Ginny's face. 'Hmmm. Well, Aaron's mum and dad moved to Australia five years ago.' He continued over her collarbone. 'And neither of them wants to leave Sarah alone with Petunia.'
'That's probably a wise decision,' Ginny agreed.
Harry brushed his mouth over Ginny's. 'It was just nice to be around a baby...'
'Wait a few years,' Ginny began. 'Teddy'll make something of a grandfather out of you soon enough and you can play with a baby all afternoon, then send him home with his parents.'
'Why? What do you know?' Harry sat up.
'No more than you do,' Ginny said soothingly. 'It's just that he and Vic have been inseparable since the end of her fourth year.'
'Thanks, Gin. I thought I'd managed to forget that whole incident.' Harry squirmed with embarrassment, remembering the very uncomfortable conversation with Teddy when he came home for the Easter holiday.
'I rather thought it was quite enough to put Teddy off sex for years,' teased Ginny.
'We can only hope,' Harry muttered. 'But back to Ted and Vic... It's not a foregone conclusion for those two.'
'No. But it's awfully close.' Ginny pulled Harry back down to her. 'You know... James is getting close to that age.'
'Oh, God, don't remind me,' groaned Harry. 'We're both doing that one. The sooner, the better.'
'Right,' Ginny smirked. 'Because you're hoping every time he even thinks about getting into some girl's knickers, he gets a mental image of his mum using a banana to teach him how to use a condom correctly?'
Harry nodded. 'I didn't even know my mum, and honestly, if she had done that when I was James' age, the night you came to my flat on your birthday, I wouldn't have laid a hand on you.'
'I find that hard to believe,' Ginny said dryly.
'Well, all right. I would have laid a hand on you,' he conceded. He began to wind a lock of Ginny's hair around his finger. 'You were right,' he admitted softly. 'About Dudley. I didn't want to believe that he had changed as much as he said. It was just easier...'
'What changed?'
Harry sighed and lifted one of Ginny's hands to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm before replying, 'Watching him with Sarah.'
Scorpius carefully drew a line down the center of his face and began to fill in one side with bright scarlet face paint. He stuck the stylized 'G' superimposed with a rampant lion on the other cheek. It was a new product from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. The small kit held enough face paint for a single application and a temporary tattoo of the team's logo. The paint and tattoo were charmed to wear off after a few hours. So far, they only had the four Hogwarts teams, but Jacob, Fred, and Rose claimed if response was good, their fathers were thinking of expanding the product line to include the Quidditch teams of Britain and Ireland, and the national teams of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales.
He ran down the spiral staircase to the common room and met Sophie, Nicky, and Alex, each sporting similar designs on their faces. 'Come on,' Sophie said, tugging on his hand. 'All the good seats will be taken if we don't get down to the pitch soon.'
'Sophie's going to play professionally like Aunt Ginny,' Nicky said brightly.
'If she doesn't get hit by too many Bludgers before then,' added Alex, earning himself a hard shove from Sophie.
'Get hit with less than Fred does,' she sniffed disdainfully. 'And I can aim the Bludger better than either of them.'
'You don't hit it very hard, though,' Nicky argued.
'Don't have to,' Sophie snorted. 'It's all about placement.'
'Have you been watching the tennis at Wimbledon again?' sighed Alex. 'It's not about power, it's about placement,' he mimicked.
'Shut it, you,' Sophie hissed.
'Girls, girls, girls, you're all pretty...' Scorpius muttered. 'Lay off Sophie. She's pretty damn good, you know.'
'Thank you,' Sophie said loftily.
'Oh, sure...' muttered Alex. 'Keep saying stuff like that and her head won't fit her hat come winter.'
Scorpius rolled his eyes, as they climbed the stairs to the stand where several Gryffindors already waited for the game to begin. He shaded his eyes against the weak glare of the early April sunshine and scanned the benches for a large enough space for the four of them to sit. A gaily striped head in scarlet and gold caught his eye and he began to wave energetically. 'Teddy!' he called. 'Teddy!'
Teddy grinned and motioned for the four children to come sit with him. He pushed his Muggle sunglasses on top of his head as they settled on the bench on either side of him. 'Decided what you're doing for Easter yet?'
'Probably going to stay here,' Scorpius said with a small shrug. 'I can get some studying done.'
'Holidays are not for studying. Not until your fifth year.' Teddy pulled a card from his pocket and squinted at the small print. 'Hmmm. I've got morning shifts that week. If you want, you can come stay with me.'
'Did Rosie put you up to that?' Scorpius couldn't keep the suspicion out of his voice.
'No.' Teddy tucked the card back into the back pocket of his jeans. 'I can pick you up from the train Saturday evening, and we can go stay with Gran. She can take you to the Burrow for Sunday lunch, and I'll pick you up from there when my shift is done. The rest of the week I can drop you off at Harry and Ginny's during the day, and we can have dinner with them.' Teddy glanced down at his cousin. 'If you want.'
'That's an awful lot of trouble...' Scorpius said doubtfully.
'Or you can go to Harry and Ginny's. And I can come round for dinner during the week. They don't mind having you there, mate.'
Scorpius exhaled noisily. 'I'll think about it.'
'Good enough.'
The voice of the announcer, a Slytherin student who was actually quite impartial when it came to covering the games, rang out over the pitch, as he introduced the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams, and the current point totals for the Quiddditch Cup. The Slytherins were in dead last. Their Seeker was so bad, it had become a game to try and find the Snitch before he did. Albus had earned quite a bit of pocket money the last Slytherin game when he managed to find it in less than five minutes, a full hour before either team's Seeker did. It was almost spooky the way he could pinpoint the Snitch's location. And all the better for Fred, who had an ongoing bet with Parker over the match for the past four years. Fred was saving up for a new broom. Every Galleon helped.
Gryffindor won handily and the party in the common room lasted until the wee hours of the early morning. It only wound down when Neville barged through the portrait hole at three in the morning and told them in no uncertain terms if anyone was still in the common room in ten minutes, they'd get a month of detentions in the Potions classroom and the hospital wing. The students hastily headed for their dormitories, knowing Neville might look and act mild-mannered, but he didn't tolerate it when students disobeyed him. The detentions would be messy, since they usually involved scrubbing things the Muggle way.
Scorpius staggered into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was buzzing from too much butterbeer and chocolate. Traces of scarlet paint still clung stubbornly to his hair, and he ducked his entire head into the sink to wash it out. He knew from prior experience that if he didn't do that, there would be paint all over his pillow. For some reason, the fading charm didn't work on hair. He walked back into the dormitory, rubbing his dripping hair with a towel. He climbed into bed, and just before he drew the curtains around the bed closed, he looked at Al, still fizzing from the game. 'Are you sure it will be all right with your parents if I come at Easter?'
Al was bouncing slightly on the mattress. 'Course it is...'
Scorpius picked up his worn teddy and worried one of its ears between his fingers. 'Will you write to them?'
'Uh-huh.' Al was beginning to slow down perceptibly. 'We're so going to miss breakfast,' he giggled.
'Rosie won't,' Sebastian piped up. 'You can almost set a watch by when she gets hungry. Never seen a girl eat like that,' he said admiringly. 'My sister picks at everything.'
'Your sister's weird,' Anil yawned. 'I walked by the Ravenclaw table one morning and she was counting out pieces of cereal to eat.'
'My sister won't eat anything that remotely tastes good,' grumbled Sebastian. 'Might as well be eating twigs and grass...'
'All right, everyone, go to sleep!' A seventh-year prefect stuck his head into the second-year boy's dormitory. 'It's not a sleepover, mind you. We don't want to start taking away points.'
'Okay, okay...' grumbled Al, sliding down into his four-poster. 'We'll write to Mum and Dad in the morning... Or whenever we wake up... Whichever comes first...' He trailed off as he fell asleep.
Scorpius stumbled off the train, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder, following Al toward whichever parent had come to collect them from the station. 'Hiya, Mum!' called James. 'Lily didn't come with you?' he asked in surprise.
'I had to come down and file a story for the paper tomorrow,' Ginny explained. 'Lily's at the house with your dad.'
'Are we Apparating?' Al asked with a moue of distaste. He wasn't exactly a fan of Apparition.
'Nope. Brought the car. I may be crazy, but not crazy enough to Side-Along three of you at once.'
'Dibs on the front!' shouted James, racing to the barrier.
'And you're how old?' Al asked scornfully.
James shrugged. 'At least I'm tall enough that I don't get mistaken for an ickle firstie, like some people I know,' he said pointedly to his brother.
Al peered at James' face. 'What's that on your nose...?'
James' eyes widened. 'What?' His hand flew up to feel his nose.
'Ah. My mistake. It's just your face.' Al ducked as James aimed a slap at the back of his head.
'That's it!' Ginny said exasperatedly. 'Scorpius gets the front and the two of you will have to cope with the back.' She led them through the barrier. 'And you're lucky that I don't drop you off at Teddy's and make you try to survive a week on his cooking!'
'Mum!' gasped James. 'That's just mean!'
'I'll do it, too.' Ginny walked out of the station and headed toward the car in the car park. She opened the back and instructed the boys to put their bags inside. It was going to be a long week.
TWENTY NINE -- Ties That Bind
Harry walked into the house with the Muggle post, turning a pink envelope adorned with cheery daisies over in his hand. It was from Dudley and Aaron. He set the rest of the post on a small table by the front door, and slit the envelope open. Several small photographs slid out -- one of Sarah wearing a mass of lace that Harry supposed was a dress, and one each of Aaron or Dudley holding her, and a couple of the three of them together. Lily wandered into the sitting room and draped herself over the arm of the chair Harry occupied. 'What's that?' she asked.
'Photographs,' Harry replied.
Lily tilted her head to the side and examined the one of Sarah. 'Who's that?'
'Sarah.'
'Who's Sarah?'
'Dudley and Aaron's daughter.'
Lily squinted at Harry dubiously. 'But there's no mum,' she pointed out with all the logic of a ten-year old.
Harry chuckled a little. 'No, sweetie, but Sarah's mum couldn't take care of her, so she gave Sarah to Aaron and Dudley.'
'Oh, all right.' Lily looked at the photograph again. 'Why does she look so grumpy?'
'You weren't exactly sweetness and sunshine when you were her age,' Harry told her. 'You didn't like anybody, except me, your mum, or Teddy. You didn't even like Grandmum.'
'Uh-uh!' Lily protested.
'Cried every time she held you until you were three months old.'
'I don't believe you.' Lily crossed her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose at her father.
Harry smiled and looked back at the photograph of Sarah. 'Personally, I think that dress would make anyone grumpy. Why would someone do that to a poor, innocent baby?'
'I think it's cute,' Lily pronounced.
'You would,' Harry muttered. He set the photographs on the coffee table, and went to the cupboard under the stairs, where Ginny kept spare photograph frames in a box in the cupboard. She always had a few empty frames around. He found a couple of smaller frames, and took them back to the coffee table. Harry spread the photographs out on the table, and gestured to them. 'This one for sure,' he said, plucking the one of Sarah from the selection. 'You pick the other one,' he said to Lily.
She circled the table, picking up photographs and putting them back down, humming under her breath. Her hand hovered over one, before she pulled it back and moved to another photograph. 'This one,' she said decisively.
Harry looked over her shoulder. Sarah was cradled in Aaron's hands, and one of Dudley's cupped around her head. Aaron and Dudley were looking down on her, with shy smiles on their faces. 'Good one,' he said approvingly. He slid each photograph into a frame and walked to the mantle and set them both next to a photograph of James and Al in their Gryffindor team uniforms.
'Dad? Do you think we'll get to see her? Like we do Hugo and Rosie?'
Harry swung Lily into his arms and dropped a kiss on her nose. 'You're getting too big for me to do this much longer,' he informed her.
'Will I ever get to meet Sarah?' Lily persisted.
Harry set her down on the floor with a sigh, and glanced at the photographs. 'I hope so...' He tugged one of Lily's plaits and headed for the stairs. 'Come on, then. Mum will be home with the boys soon and we need to get their rooms set up.' Harry opened the cupboard at the end of the corridor and began to take out bedding. 'Here, Lils,' Harry said, handing her quilt and a set of sheets. He flicked his wand in the direction of Al's bedroom. 'Can you go make up the camp bed for me?'
Lily wrapped her arms around the mound of bedding her father dropped into them, and walked into the room across the corridor from hers. She had just spread the quilt over the camp bed in Al's room when she heard the car pull up next to the house. 'Dad, they're here!' she yelled, as she pelted down the stairs. Lily would never admit it to anyone, but she missed her brothers. While they were at school, there were no commotions at meals, or anything else in between. Nobody teased her, nobody told her to go away, and it was far too serene for her taste. As much as she complained about her brothers, nothing was the same without them.
Lily enjoyed the chaos the three of them were capable of creating. It was even better when Teddy was there for dinners.
'Go put your things upstairs,' Ginny told the boys. 'And we'll have dinner in a bit.' She collected their coats and hung them up by the door. She wrapped her arms around Lily. 'Hiya, Lils. Day with Dad go all right?'
'Uh-huh. Dudley sent us pictures of Sarah.'
'He did, eh?' Ginny looked up at Harry, who had just walked into the kitchen. He shrugged and took a stack of plates down and handed them to Lily.
'Yep. She looks grumpy.' Lily took the plates to the table and began to arrange them around it.
'I'd look grumpy, too, if someone dressed me in that much lace,' Harry muttered, sending a bowl of carrots to the table.
'Dad put them on the mantle with our pictures,' Lily piped up, digging cutlery from its drawer to finish setting the table.
'Oh, really?' Ginny gave Harry another glance. He shook his head slightly, and sent a roast beef to the table.
'It's nothing,' he told Ginny, with the "we'll talk about it later" look on his face.
'Okay.' Ginny rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. 'That's really nice of you,' she said softly.
The back door opened and Teddy strolled into the kitchen. 'Hiya!'
'Teddy!' James, Al, and Scorpius tumbled down the stairs and clustered around Teddy, all talking at the same time.
Lily sighed happily as she sat down at the table. This is what dinner was supposed to be like.
Harry pushed the sleeves of his jumper back and began the process of washing the dishes from the dinner table. He knew he could have done it all with magic, but years of habit were hard to overcome. He found once he didn't have to do all the washing up and cleaning, he rather liked doing it. It gave him a sense of accomplishment to see all the clean dishes stacked on the drain board. Especially in the early days he worked at the Ministry, and nothing seemed to go right. Teddy carried the cups and glasses from the table and set them down next to the sink. 'Can I have a word with you later?' he asked, the tips of his hair fading from their bright turquoise to light brown.
'Sure. Is anything wrong?' Harry's antennae went up. There hadn't been any incidents lately, and Iain's reports on McNair and Rookwood were blandly dormant. Neither of them had done anything out of the ordinary in weeks.
'No, I just need to talk to you...' Teddy cleared his throat and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 'Like a dad...' His shoulders hitched under his jumper and he went back to the table, jabbing his wand at it to clean the crumbs and spills.
Harry let the plate in his hands slide into the soapy water. The tone in Teddy's voice had caught his attention. 'Teddy, what're you on about?'
Teddy heaved a sigh and dug into his pocket, pulling out a small box. 'I want to ask Vic to marry me...' He held the box out to Harry. Harry dried his hands on the dishtowel he'd flung over one shoulder and took the box from Teddy. 'The diamond's from Mum's ring, but I had it put in another setting.'
Harry thumbed the box open. 'It's nice,' he said appreciatively. 'She'll like it.' He handed it back to Teddy, who stowed it in his pocket.
'Do you think we're too young?'
Harry turned back to the sink. 'I'm hardly the person to ask that, considering Gin and I were both younger than you and Vic when we got married.'
Teddy picked up a plate from the stack and began to dry them. 'We wouldn't get married for another year at least.' He opened the cabinet and slid the plate into its place. 'How did you propose to Ginny?'
'I fed her Thai food and pretended to knock myself silly at a play park,' Harry said, grinning.
'Did you ask Arthur for his permission?'
Harry pulled the plug from the drain. 'No, and I don't suggest going about it that way. Molly and Arthur were convinced Ginny was pregnant because we ware going about it so quickly.' He glanced at Teddy, whose eyebrow had gone up in inquiry. 'No, she wasn't,' Harry huffed. 'It was a year after she'd finished school and we wanted to have the wedding in the off-season, and didn't feel the need to prolong the inevitable.'
'Bill's going to have my bits on a platter,' Teddy moaned.
Harry checked the calendar tacked to the wall by the refrigerator. 'Hmm. You might have a point. Full moon was last night.' He rummaged in a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and poured two glasses. 'I'd advise waiting a week or two, lad.'
'Yeah...' Teddy sipped his drink cautiously, wondering how Harry could drink the stuff like it was tea. 'Is it... weird?'
'What?'
'Vic and me.'
'No, why would it be?' Harry set his glass down on the table.
'Well, the family thing...'
Harry slouched in his chair a little. 'It's not like you're related,' he said. 'And lots of people marry their childhood sweetheart. Look at Molly and Arthur.' He reached over and ruffled Teddy's hair. 'It's not a bad thing to marry your best friend.'
Teddy sipped his whisky and sat for a moment. 'Do you approve?'
'I'm not quite ready for you to get married, but that's my thing. You're still that baby that peed all over me the first time I changed your nappy.'
'Ah, jeez...' Teddy furiously blushed and gulped half his whisky in one swallow.
'Not that you need it, but you have my blessing,' Harry said softly.
'Do you think Mum and Dad would like her?' Teddy asked anxiously.
'I do. They would both like her very, very much.' Harry blinked rapidly, and rubbed his eyes. 'Whisky fumes,' he muttered.
Later, as he settled into bed with Ginny, he told her about his conversation with Teddy. 'It just feels too soon,' he complained. 'It's like our first child is going off, and getting married...'
'I thought you were okay with it,' Ginny began. 'You did give him your approval.'
'I am. I'm just not ready for my kids to grow up.'
Scorpius sat on the bank of the pond in the Weasley's back garden, tossing pebbles into the water, watching the ripples they created until they faded, then tossed in another one. He heard the grass rustle behind him, and glanced up to see Lily making her way from the melee of the weekly Quidditch game. She dropped to the grass next to him. 'Aren't you cold?' she asked, swiping her nose with her sleeve.
Scorpius grimaced and dug into his pocket, handing her a handkerchief. 'Don't use your sleeve,' he told her. He pulled his coat around his body a little tighter. 'It's not too bad. Compared to Hogwarts, it's practically swimming weather.'
Lily eyed the green water of the pond with a frank expression of disgust on her face. 'Not in that pond.'
Scorpius smiled a little. 'Your mother says the river's better.'
'It is. It's where she taught us to swim.' Lily rubbed the handkerchief under her nose. 'Maybe if you come stay with us this summer, we can come over and go swimming in the river?'
'That would be nice.'
Lily pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. 'So, um... I'm really sorry about the way I behaved at Christmas.'
Scorpius waved her off. 'It's all right.' He threw another pebble into the water. 'I envy you sometimes.'
'Why?'
Scorpius jerked his head toward the raucous crowd of Lily's family taking a break from the game, standing around, eating biscuits and drinking lemonade. 'Holidays aren't like this for me. And Christmas was...' He shrugged. 'Let's just say it wasn't entirely pleasant.' Scorpius pulled up a handful of grass and began to methodically shred it to bits. 'Parts of it were. But only when my father wasn't around.'
'What happened with your father?'
'He was drinking...'
'Dad drinks,' Lily said offhandedly.
'Not like my father does,' Scorpius corrected grimly. 'He was watching me, when I wrapped your Christmas gifts. Gave me the shivers,' he mused. 'I think I prefer it more when he ignores me,' he told Lily ruefully. 'At least I'm not worrying what he's thinking when he ignores me.'
'That's terrible,' Lily said sympathetically.
Scorpius snorted. 'Believe me, if I had a choice between the constant lessons on how proper Malfoys behave and having my father barely acknowledge my existence, I'll take the second one.'
Lily scooted closer to Scorpius and leaned against him. 'I'm sorry...'
'Thanks...'
Teddy watched Victoire study, marveling at her ability to shut out anything extraneous around her and focus with singular attention on what was in front of her. It made her a marvelous Quidditch player. She scribbled something in the margin of her book with an ordinary pencil, and frowned at the notes in her notebook. She glanced up at Teddy. 'What?'
'Nothing.' Teddy stretched and headed for the kitchen. 'Want something to drink?'
'Sure.' Victoire closed her book and rolled her head around her neck, stretching the kink that had developed from keeping her nose buried in the book all day. It was quieter at Teddy's flat than at home, since Maddie, Nicky, and Alex were home for the Easter holiday, and her exam to continue through to the second year of the Healer training program was next week. Each day was devoted to one of the subjects they had to study beyond N.E.W.T.s -- Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defense, and Herbology. Like the school exams, they would have a written exam in the morning, and a practical exam that directly correlated to medical usage.
'Here.' Teddy held out a butterbeer to her. 'How's it going?'
Victoire made a face. 'It's been better. Herbology was never one of my best subjects.' She twisted, trying to work the kinks from her shoulders.
'Turn around,' Teddy commanded. He placed his hands on Victoire's shoulders and began to massage the knots from her muscles.
'Mmmmmm,' she purred. 'You can do that all night.'
'Don't you have to go home soon?'
'Yeah...' Victoire sighed regretfully.
'Don't stay up too late.'
'Don't worry. Mum'll go spare if I try to stay up and study. She got tired of coming down in the morning and finding me passed out on the kitchen table.'
'You ought to get some rest,' Teddy chided.
'I know... I'll have time to rest later. After exams are done.'
'What is it? A month?'
'Yeah...' Victoire smiled dreamily. 'A whole month to sleep.'
Teddy worked his hands down Victoire's back, gently kneading the stiff muscles into languor. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Sure...'
'Do you see this going anywhere?' he asked, his heart in his mouth.
Victoire twisted around, pushing her hair from her face. 'What do you mean?'
Teddy kept his eyes on his hands, sliding down Victoire's back. 'You, me... '
'You mean, like marriage, children...?'
'Yeah.' Teddy shrugged nonchalantly.
Victoire was silent. It made Teddy want to squirm. 'I've thought about it,' she said finally.
'And...?' Teddy waited, his hands growing still, his mind drifting toward the ring, nestled in one of his drawers.
'It could be nice,' she conceded, making Teddy slump in poorly disguised relief. 'But...'
'Why does there always have to be a "but"?' he grumbled.
'Not until I'm done with the classes.'
'Well, of course not,' Teddy said, resuming his massage.
'And the trainee portion,' Victoire added.
Teddy stopped and turned Victoire around. 'But that's four more years!'
'I promised Dad,' Victoire admitted. 'When it was apparent you and I were more than some school fling, that I'd finish the Healer training before I got married.'
'Oh...' Teddy was confused. 'So, if I were to ask...?'
'Nobody says we have to get married right away,' Victoire said with a shrug.
'Oh... Okay...'
'Ted?'
'Yeah...?'
'Are you asking?'
Teddy tilted Victoire's face up and kissed her. 'Believe me, Vic, when I ask, you'll know.'
Scorpius stood on the edge of the Potters' back garden, watching Harry chase Lily around the tool shed, laughing as Lily darted around Harry, taunting him with her quickness. Al tackled Harry around the waist in an attempt to bring him down, but he couldn't manage to pull his father down. Lily flung herself at Harry, making him topple over to his back in the grass. James, who had been practicing different ways to throw a Quaffle with his mother, tripped over the tangle of bodies on the grass and landed with a grunt on Al, who began to tickle his brother with a savageness that only siblings could produce.
Their laughter echoed over the garden, and Scorpius quietly slipped away toward the pond in a small clearing behind the garden. He thought he had managed to get away unnoticed, but Ginny had stopped mid-throw and watched the boy trudge toward the woods. She put the dark red ball on the ground next to the broom shed and followed Scorpius to the edge of the pond.
He sat on bank, his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them. Ginny sat down next to him, carefully avoiding making eye contact with him. 'So...' she said, staring out over the surface of the pond.
'Hi, Mrs. Potter.'
'It's a little chilly for swimming,' Ginny commented lightly.
'Yeah.' Scorpius nodded a few times.
'Are you having a good time?' she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the pond.
'Yeah... I suppose.' He shrugged, hugging his knees a little tighter.
Ginny said nothing. She suspected Scorpius was like Harry -- he would talk when he was ready. The sound of the others' shouting drifted into the clearing. She noticed Scorpius flinch slightly. His hands were fisted so tightly his knuckles turned white. His head turned toward the garden, and Harry's voice rose distinctly over the children's. 'Why doesn't my father want me?' he murmured indistinctly.
Ginny reached over and began to gently stroke the fine blonde hair from the boy's face.
'He won't talk to me. He pretends I'm not in the room at meals when I am at home. He talks about me like I'm not even there.' Scorpius swallowed heavily and hunched into a smaller ball, as if he wanted to disappear, all his attention fixed on the sounds drifting from the garden. 'He's never done that with me, not even when I was small,' he whispered hoarsely.
'Done what?' Ginny asked softly, still stroking Scorpius' hair. It was something she did to Lily, James, and Al when they were upset.
'Played with me, I guess. My grandmother's the one who built sand castles on the beach with me. My mother used to let me work in the garden with her. Still does. Grandmother taught me how to play chess, and Mother used to play Exploding Snap with me when Father wasn't home.' Scorpius rubbed his nose across the sleeve of his coat, noting ironically it was what he'd told Lily not to do. 'It's not the same as that,' he said, tilting his head toward the commotion from the garden.
'No, it's not,' Ginny agreed. She wrapped an arm around his tense shoulders. 'It's your father's loss,' she said quietly. 'If he keeps doing this, he's never going to know what a brilliant kid you are.' She dug a handkerchief from her coat pocket and handed it to Scorpius, looking at her feet, to give him some time to collect himself. 'Your father had a pretty rough time growing up. It gets lost among everything else about him -- the family history and the like. He had everything money could buy, but I don't think his father cared enough about him until it was too late.'
'How do you know that?' Scorpius snuffled into the depths of the handkerchief.
Ginny heaved a sigh, and resumed her perusal of the pond. 'A few days after the last battle at Hogwarts, I needed to get out and grabbed a random broom from the school's broom shed. I accidentally took his broom. I didn't realize it until I landed. He'd been watching me fly around the pitch. I gave it back to him, and he destroyed it, muttering about all the things his father forced him to do that he didn't want to do.' Ginny looked at Scorpius, who was watching her with a wide-eyed expression. 'I've never told anyone that,' she admitted.
'Why did you tell me?'
'Things go in circles,' Ginny explained. 'Your father is probably treating you like this because he doesn't know any other way. It's not right, and it's not fair to you.'
'Why does he do it?' mumbled Scorpius, twisting the handkerchief.
'I don't know,' confessed Ginny. 'It takes a lot of courage to buck centuries of tradition, and some people can overcome that and some can't.' She hugged the boy for a moment. 'Maybe one day, he'll come around. And hopefully, you'll be able to at least listen.'
Ginny got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. 'Come on, let's get back before they start to worry. Maybe I can talk Harry into making some hot chocolate. He makes the best hot chocolate.'
'Mrs. Potter?'
Ginny turned. 'Yes?'
'Thanks...'
'You're welcome.'
THIRTY -- The Second Step
Lily wrinkled her nose at the row of tiles in front of her. She had a Q, C, C, O, E, F, and B. Six years of Muggle primary school had taught her a lot, but it hadn't taught her how make something from that mess. Scanning the board, a pair of letters caught her eye. She looked back at her options, and grinned manically. With a flair for the dramatic, she laid down the two Cs and the O. 'Accio,' she said triumphantly.
Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'You can't do that,' he objected.
'Why not?'
'It's not really a word.'
'Seriously?' Lily scoffed. 'We use it all the time.' She took a moment to consider what she'd just said. 'Well I don't. But Mum does when she doesn't think James and Al have brought all their dirty socks down to the scullery.'
'Isn't it always capitalized?' Scorpius asked, paging through the rules booklet.
'I dunno,' Lily admitted. 'Is it, Mum?'
Ginny looked at the pair over the edge of her book. 'Truthfully?' The two children nodded emphatically. 'Usually. Unless you're Ron, and your penmanship's absolutely atrocious to the point where you can't tell if it's supposed to be capitalized or not.'
Scorpius looked at Lily, who was frowning at the board, ready to pick up the tiles and start all over again. 'We can use words in hexes, jinxes, or charms,' he blurted. 'But no plants or potions ingredients.'
'But that's against the rules,' Lily said.
'Bugger the rules.' Scorpius clapped a hand over his mouth and glanced at Ginny, who was biting her lip in an effort to keep from laughing. 'Erm, I mean...' he coughed, turning a rich shade of scarlet. 'I mean, blast the rules...' he choked.
Lily fell over to the rug, bubbling over in giggles. 'You think Mum thinks you don't know the word "bugger"?' she chortled.
'It's not a word we use in polite society,' Ginny reminded Lily.
Lily grinned impudently at her mother and began to count her score. 'Nine points,' told Scorpius, who wrote it down in the column under her name. The weather had taken a turn for the worse two days ago, and it was wretched outside. Rainy, blustery, and cold to the point that it kept even Al and James inside. They were on the other side of the sitting room, with James' model Quidditch pitch, discussing tactics for the next match against Slytherin.
Scorpius carefully added a word to the board between them, and added his points. 'Protego. Triple letter score on the P.' He gave Lily a wide grin.
Curiously, Lily glanced at Ginny, sprawled in an armchair. Lily watched her mother's small nod of satisfaction, and mentally shrugged. Ginny wasn't what Lily would term overprotective, but she couldn't recall a time when her mother had hovered quite so much. She'd been doing that ever since Tuesday. Lily didn't really mind the hovering, since Ginny didn't really intrude much. If they were in the sitting room playing games or watching a film, Ginny either brought a book or participated in their games or film viewing.
There were other things Lily noticed. Ginny usually caressed her children's heads in passing, or patted them on the shoulder, or even gave them a brief hug or kiss. Before this holiday, Ginny had included Scorpius at times, but now it seemed like she gave him those small signs of affection as much as she did to the rest of her children. It was a subtle shift that had taken Lily a few days to notice. She heard Scorpius speaking. 'Huh?'
He indicated the board between them. 'It's your turn.'
Lily examined the row of tiles in front of her. 'Right...'
Rose settled into the backseat of the car, glancing at Hugo with a sigh. Hugo didn't travel in the car well. He had a tendency to get sick on long trips. The drive to Oxford was usually at the limit of his threshold of tolerance. She pulled a book from her bag and gave Hugo another glance. 'Why don't you read or something?'
Hugo's eyes closed miserably. 'Makes it worse,' he reminded her.
'What are you going to do on the train in September?' she asked interestedly. 'It's a long trip. Usually doesn't get into Hogsmeade until after six.'
Hugo cracked an eyelid. 'Oh, Godric's ratty pants,' he muttered in trepidation. 'What do you do for seven hours?'
Rose shrugged. 'Talk, eat, play games, sleep -- if you can find a compartment quiet enough...' She eyed Hugo's pale face again. He had gone green about the edges. 'Maybe Mum can get you a potion or something.'
'Trains are fine,' Hugo muttered, trying to keep his mouth closed. 'Long as I can face the front.'
'You're so weird,' Rose told him. 'If you didn't look like Dad, I'd swear you were adopted.'
Hermione glanced in the rearview mirror. 'Trust me,' she assured her children. 'Hugo is most definitely not adopted. I was there for the whole event.'
Rose's nose wrinkled. 'Ewwww.'
'How do you think you got here?' Hugo said scornfully to his sister.
'I like to think I appeared out of thin air,' Rose muttered.
'All right, enough,' Hermione sighed.
'Why are we going to see Gran?' Rose asked.
'You don't want to go see your grandmother before you go back to school?' Hermione retorted, with another glance in the mirror.
Rose sighed and marked her place in her book. 'But we just saw her yesterday,' Rose pointed out. 'You're getting forgetful in your old age, Mum.'
'Forty is not old,' Hermione huffed.
'You're not forty yet,' Rose said. 'But really, why are we going back to Oxford?'
A line appeared between Hermione's eyebrows. 'She called this morning. Seemed upset about something.' Hermione bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She reverted to something she had been doing for years to regain some of her equilibrium. 'All right, then, Rosie... What are the twelve uses for dragons' blood?' She felt the tension slowly leave her shoulders as Rose recited the uses of dragons' blood and some of the more common potions in which they were used. 'What is the difference between wolfsbane and aconite?'
Rose snorted. 'Please, Mum. Too easy. They're the same thing.'
The verbal lesson continued all the way to Oxford when Hermione pulled the car into the drive of her parents' house. Hermione opened the front door of the house and walked in ahead of Rose and Hugo. 'Mum?' she called. 'Mum, are you here?'
Jane appeared at the door to the sitting room. She frowned slightly at Hermione, her gaze settling on Rose. Her frail-looking hand reached out and fingered Rose's blazing curls. 'Hermione, what did you do to your hair?'
Rose's response was cut off by her mother's hand squeezing her shoulder. Hermione's voice was tense as she said, 'Mum, that's Rose...'
Jane shook her head a little. 'Of course it is,' she said a little too vaguely for Hermione's comfort. 'She just looks so much like you...' Jane trailed off, heading for the kitchen. 'Come on, I'll make you some tea...'
'Mum?' Hugo's voice was small in the stillness that enveloped the three of them. 'Rosie doesn't look that much like you,' he said bluntly.
Fear trailed a cold finger down Hermione's spine. 'I know.'
The rest of the day, Hermione was uncharacteristically silent as she helped Rose pack her things to catch the train back to school the next morning. Ron waited until both the children were asleep before he broached the subject. 'What's the matter, hen?' he asked, as she climbed into bed. 'You're too quiet.'
'The past few times we've been to see Mum, have you noticed anything strange?'
'Define strange,' Ron said softly.
'She called Rosie Hermione today.' Hermione's voice caught slightly. 'Said she looks just like me, like it was a mistake.'
Ron's brow wrinkled. 'That's a bit of a stretch,' he said with much more tact than his son.
'She meant it. She really thought Rosie was me...' Hermione rolled over and buried her face in Ron's chest, her shoulders shaking. 'Something is horribly, horribly wrong,' she choked
Ron didn't know what to say. To him, Jane was still fairly young, in wizarding terms. Witches and wizards weren't considered old until they were at least a hundred. He wrapped his arms around his wife, and stroked her hair. He didn't know much about what could happen to Muggles as they aged, but he knew this didn't sound good.
Ginny hugged James and Al before letting them board the train, extracting promises from them that they would write more often. She turned to Scorpius; standing huddled in his coat, shoulders hunched against the chill. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug no less warm than the ones she had given James or Al. Scorpius tentatively returned it, his ears turning pink. Ginny released him and sent him toward the waiting train. 'You'll write, too,' Ginny told him.
'What?'
'If you want,' Ginny said quickly, not wanting to seem presumptuous. 'Just let us know how you're doing from time to time.'
'Oh, okay...' Scorpius ducked his head bashfully and dashed for the train. He tumbled into the compartment, and waved to Lily. She waved back, leaning against Ginny. Scorpius sat with his nose nearly pressed against the glass, watching Lily and Ginny grow smaller and smaller as the train headed north. Sighing with a small amount of regret at having to go back to school, Scorpius found his way back to the compartment with Al and Rosie. The train was much less crowded for the Easter holiday. Most students usually just stayed at school -- especially the fifth and seventh years so they could study for their exams. Scorpius figured they'd have to do that soon enough, and was grateful for the moments he could steal with the Potters and Weasleys. He hoped that one day; he could create that kind of environment for his children. He wouldn't have wished his childhood on his Greengrass cousins, no matter how much he hated them.
He plopped on the seat across from Rose, who looked uncharacteristically glum. 'All right, Rosie?' Rose shrugged listlessly and turned her head to look out the window.
Al frowned at Rose. She wasn't the moody type. If Rose had a mood at all, it was one of longsuffering resignation directed at her peers, including her family members. Rose was so bright, that it generally only took her a few tries to master most of the spells and charms they learned. Even though she rarely paid attention in History of Magic, she kept several dusty tomes around for "light" reading, and was several lessons ahead of Professor Binns. 'Come on, Rose. Something's bothering you... You can tell us.'
'My grandmother forgot who I was,' Rose mumbled. She turned her attention back to Al and Scorpius. 'Not Grandmum,' she said to Al's unasked question. 'My mum's mother.' She returned her unblinking gaze to the countryside speeding past the windows. 'She even called me Hermione...' Rose blinked slowly, unmindful of the tears that spilled from the corners of her eyes. Both boys squirmed uncomfortably. Rose didn't cry as a rule. At least not in public.
'I'll go find Maddie and Izzy,' Scorpius whispered, heading down the corridor, looking for the compartment where the older cousins gathered. He peered into windows, feeling his stomach clench. Rose was the closest thing he had to a sister and he hated to see her cry like that. He saw the glint of Izzy's dark red hair, and burst through the door of their compartment. They looked up in surprise at Scorpius, standing there alone. He, Rose, and Al were usually connected at the hip. 'It's Rosie...' he said, gesturing helplessly down the corridor. Without another word, the two older girls hurried down the corridor. Scorpius trailed after them, arriving at his compartment in time to see Maddie and Izzy enfold Rose between them. He edged into the compartment, settling on the edge of the seat next to Al.
He wondered if he would be able to maintain his relationship with Al's family once they were finished with school. He desperately wanted his children, if he ever had any, to be able to have what Al and his siblings and cousins had.
It was a rather somber trip back to school.
Teddy nervously checked himself in the mirror in the bathroom of his flat. He ran his hands over his hair, wishing it didn't turn colors when he was anxious about something. He smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt and sighed. 'Now or never,' he told his reflection. He left the bathroom, and picked up his coat from the arm of his sofa. Pulling it on, he left the flat and Disapparated to Cornwall, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. Today was the day. He didn't have to work that week, and the full moon was still several days away.
He reappeared in front of Shell Cottage, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton wool. 'This is crazy,' he muttered, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
'Teddy? Ees zat you?' Teddy glanced behind him. Fleur was on her knees, gathering flowers from the beds snuggled against the walls of the house. 'Hi, Mrs. Weasley,' he called weakly.
Fleur was amused by his use of her last name. He hadn't called her Mrs. Weasley in... well, never. 'Victoire ees inside,' she told him, getting to her feet with the careless grace of her youth. She held the basket of cut flowers out to Teddy. 'Would you take zees inside to her?'
'Sure.' Teddy held the basket, his sweaty palms slipping over the handle. He started walking toward the door. 'Is Mr. Weasley here?'
'Ah, oui. He ees in ze back.'
'Thanks,' Teddy muttered, attempting to open the door, his slick hand sliding over the doorknob. Groaning softly, he ran his hand surreptitiously down the side of his trousers and tried the door again. He went through the small sitting room to the kitchen, inhaling the homey aromas of dried herbs, the chicken roasting in the oven. Shell Cottage was warm and welcoming, much like the Burrow or Harry and Ginny's house. He entered the kitchen, smiling when he saw Victoire surrounded by thick, brand-new books, scowling at one of them.
'I take it you got into the second year,' he said, setting the flowers down on the table.
'Of course I did,' Victoire said dismissively. 'Second highest score in my group,' she informed Teddy proudly. 'Just got my results this morning.'
'That's fantastic, Vic,' Teddy said. 'Maybe we can go celebrate later.' Teddy turned one of the books around and shuddered. It was a highly advanced potions book. Teddy had been absolute rubbish at potion-brewing, much to his grandmother's dismay. He traced the lettering on the cover. Dad was rubbish at it, too, he thought with a pang. It's what Harry had told him when he hadn't earned a high enough O.W.L. to take N.E.W.T.-level Potions. Teddy had gone up to the attic of his grandmother's house, and dug through Remus' diaries, unearthing a fragile piece of parchment with his father's O.W.L. results. It had lightened his heart considerably to find that his father had only achieved an Acceptable as well.
Victoire examined Teddy's attire. He was almost too... neat. 'All right, Ted?' she asked, closing her new textbook.
'Yeah... I'm... I'm just going to go talk to your dad for a minute...' he murmured indistinctly.
Vctoire watched as Teddy left the kitchen, his hair slowly changing from turquoise to his natural sandy brown. She frowned quizzically as he approached Bill. Unlike most people, Teddy didn't blush when he was nervous. His hair changed colors. She turned to the basket of flowers and Summoned a vase and began to arrange them, more for something to do than any real interest in the task.
Victoire took the flowers to the table and drifted to the windowsill, watching her father and boyfriend stroll along the shore. She turned her head when Fleur walked into the kitchen. 'I'm pretty sure he's not here to ask about my exam results,' Victoire told her mother.
'Non,' Fleur said enigmatically with a small smile that reminded Victoire of a painting they had seen last summer on a trip to Paris to visit her mother's family.
Victoire gave Fleur a narrow-eyed glare. 'What do you know?'
'No more zan you.' Fleur ran her hand over Victoire's hair. Harry's sensibilities were written all over this. Fleur leaned against the counter. 'Ze first time I met your fazzer, I knew he was ze man I was going to marry,' she commented with studied nonchalance.
'How did you know that?' Victoire laughed. She didn't believe in love at first sight.
Fleur's smile broadened. 'I saw him at ze Triwizard at Hogwarts, and we spent a few minutes talking. He talked to me.' She saw the question fly into Victoire's eyes. 'He saw me, not ze Veela-girl,' she explained. 'Even when I moved here to work at Gringotts, it was always me.' Fleur languidly waved her wand and began to set the table for dinner. 'But zat first time...' Fleur said wistfully. 'It was ze first time a boy, or a man, for zat matter, didn't trip all over zemselves to talk to me. And I zought to myself zat zis was a man I could spend ze rest of my life wiz...'
'All from one conversation?' Victoire asked skeptically.
'Oui.'
Victoire snorted. 'That sounds like rubbish, Mum.'
Fleur regarded her daughter with a faint pitying gaze. 'You are just like you fazzer,' she sighed.
'So why all the marriage talk?'
'Teddy has grown up to be a very, very good man,' Fleur said.
'Yes, he has...' Victoire didn't know where her mother was taking this line of thought.
Fleur gestured to the garden. Bill was standing outside the gate, watching Teddy trudge into the house, his gaze flicking between Victoire and Teddy. Bill bore an almost comically sad expression. 'I zink your fazzer wants to talk wiz you.'
Victoire walked past Teddy, who looked at her with a shrug, his eyes on the toes of his shoes.
Teddy approached Bill warily, despite the more than twenty years Teddy had known him. 'Erm, Mr. Weasley?' he asked, clearing his throat.
'Mr. Weasley?' Bill glanced up from the bed of wolfsbane Fleur planted as a joke. 'Why so formal? You've never called me that before.'
'Huh... well...' Teddy's hair flopped into his eyes. 'I, um, I need to ask you something...'
Bill's eyebrow rose. He hadn't expected to have this conversation so soon. He rose to his feet, dusting his hands on his jeans. 'Let's go take a walk, Ted,' he said somberly. Teddy followed Bill to the beach, and began to walk next to him, listening to the sounds of the surf and screeching gulls echoing against the cliffs. It sounded lonely and forlorn. He wondered when he could start talking when Bill opened his mouth. 'I know why you're here. Harry's drummed enough integrity into your head over the years, that if you want to propose to my girl, you'd come talk to Fleur and me first,' Bill said.
'Y-y-y-y-yes, sir,' Teddy stammered.
Bill sighed and stared at the roiling current of the sea. 'She has to finish her training first. Before you two marry each other.'
'Okay,' Teddy said faintly, rubbing his hands down the sides of his trousers again.
'That's four years, you know,' Bill said.
Teddy met Bill's eyes squarely and for the first time since he crawled out of bed that day felt a preternatural sense of calm settle over him. 'She's worth the wait,' he told Bill, determination threading through his voice.
Bill felt his shoulders slump a little. He hated seeing his daughter grow up so fast. 'I'm not so daft as to answer for Fleur, but...' Bill nodded, unable to finish the sentence. He looked at the tenacious young man standing next to him. 'You have my permission...' He turned sharply and began to walk up to the house. 'If you even so much as think about hurting her, I'll personally turn you into dragon feed and send you to Charlie.'
Teddy's eyes widened, but he nodded. He saw Fleur and Victoire standing at the window, watching them, and he headed into the house. He passed Victoire and tried to smile at her, but it ended up as more of a grimace.
Victoire glided down to where Bill stood morosely. 'Hi, Dad,' she said softly.
Bill enfolded her into a fierce embrace, picking her up off the ground. 'He'd better take care of you,' he said gruffly, smoothing the bright hair away from her face.
Teddy stood next to Fleur watching Bill and Victoire in the spring afternoon, the sun creating halos around their heads. 'I want to marry Vic,' he blurted.
Fleur laughed. 'Tell me somezing I don't know.'
'May I...?'
Fleur gently kissed Teddy on his cheek. 'I don't zink zere is anyzing we could say to stop her.' She pointed her wand at the stove and sent the dinner floating gently to the table. 'You do know about her agreement wiz Bill?'
Teddy nodded. 'I can wait.'
Victoire wound her heavy, thick hair into a loose chignon on the back of her head, and used her wand to magically pin it into place. 'Mum!' she called, as she clattered down the stairs, displaying the coltish grace of her father, rather than the silken elegance of her mother. 'Mum!' She skidded to a stop in the sitting room, and found her mother, curled in a squashy armchair, reading. 'I'm going to go see Grandmum.'
Fleur raised a silvery eyebrow. 'You are an adult, non? You do not have to tell me everyzing.'
'I suppose. But since I live here, I thought you might like to know I was going out.'
'Merci. Teddy sent an owl earlier.' Fleur indicated the letter propped against a vase on the mantle.
'Thanks, Mum.' Victoire grabbed the letter and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. 'I'll be home in a couple of hours.' She went to the back garden and Disapparated outside the back garden gate of the Burrow. She slipped through the gate and went into the uncharacteristically quiet house. She smiled to herself, as the strains of Celestina Warbeck wafted through the sitting room into the kitchen. She followed the sounds of Molly singing along to the music into the sitting room.
Molly sat in a rocking chair, swaying in time to the music, humming softly, knitting one of the endless Christmas jumpers that would find its way under the tree come December. 'Hi, Grandmum,' Victoire said.
'Why, hello, Vic,' Molly said warmly. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'
'I can't come see my favorite grandmother?'
'Cheeky girl,' Molly chided, but with no real heat.
Victoire folded herself to the floor at Molly's feet. 'Grandmum, how did you know Granddad was the one?'
Molly set her knitting down in her lap. 'I knew before he did.'
'How...?'
A dreamy look came over Molly's face. 'Picture it... Hogwarts... nineteen sixty-seven... A boy with an obsession for Muggle contraptions, and a girl who could wipe the floor with her opponents in the dueling club. The last Hogsmeade visit of the year, the boy asks the girl to go with him. The girl is flattered, because people tend to forget her. She's got two older brothers in seventh year who are big, funny, and constantly in and out of trouble. And the girl is a little mousy, and short. And not what anyone would associate with the word "sylph-like".' Molly grinned at her granddaughter self deprecatingly. 'But surprisingly, the boy seems to enjoy her company, even though she's only a fifth year, and he's a sixth. So he asks if he can write to her over the summer, ignores her brothers' teasing, and even comes round for dinner a few times.' Molly picked up her knitting once more. 'The girl tries to imagine what could happen once she finishes school, and can picture what her life might be like with this tall, lanky boy, who keeps an odd collection of plugs in his pocket.' Molly used the edge of the jumper to dab the corners of her eyes. 'That girl and boy will be married fifty years next summer.'
'Wow.'
'What brought this on?'
'Teddy, he's going to propose soon.'
'I see.'
'Should I have dated other boys, Gran?'
'Did you want to?'
'Not really.'
'I'm going to give you a piece of advice, Vic. Think about the most difficult thing that could happen to you.'
'Right now?'
'Yes, right now.'
'Eating Teddy's cooking?' Victoire said with a sly grin.
Molly laughed. 'That's pretty bad, but not quite.' She sobered too rapidly for Victoire's comfort. 'Imagine losing a child far too young. Then try to imagine who is still standing next to you. If you can see Teddy doing that, then you have a better chance than most.'
'Is that what you did?'
Molly nodded, watching the stitches drop off her needles. 'It wasn't that hard to do, then. But it's a different time now.'
Victoire frowned at the shadows that appeared in her grandmother's eyes. 'I'm sorry, Gran... I didn't...'
Molly waved her off. 'Don't worry about it dear. It wasn't something I obsessed over then.' She cast a few more stitches. 'That's not quite the truth. I thought about it all the time, especially once all the children were old enough to join the Order against Voldemort. Just never thought I'd actually have to bury one of my own children.' She let out a shaky breath and put the knitting down in her lap once more. 'It's not something a parent should have to do,' she said so softly, Victoire had to strain to hear it.
A/N: R.I.P Estelle Getty...
THIRTY ONE -- Waking Reality
The annoying buzzing woke Hermione early one morning. Without opening her eyes, she patted the night table for her mobile. Flipping the mobile open, she croaked, 'H'llo?'
'Mrs. Weasley?'
It wasn't her mother's voice. That alone drove all traces of sleepiness from Hermione's brain. 'Who is this?' she demanded.
'This is Inspector Miles Thompson, Mrs. Granger. From the police station in Oxford.'
'Oh, right...' Hermione peered over Ron's hunched shoulders at the clock. It was just past six in the morning. 'What's going on?' she said, stifling a yawn.
'I'm sorry to be ringing so early, but there's been an incident with your mother...'
Hermione bolted upright. 'What happened?'
'We found her wandering about a few hours ago. She didn't remember her address. She's smashed up her car, as well.'
'Oh, dear God,' Hermione breathed.
'She's got a few bumps and bruises, so we've taken her to John Radcliffe. We found your number in her handbag.'
'I'll be there as soon as I can...' Hermione threw the mobile to the bed and darted for the bathroom to wash. She dashed through a sketchy shower and stumbled into the bedroom to find Ron sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face.
'Hen, what's going on...?' he mumbled, confused.
'It's Mum,' Hermione gasped, throwing on the first clothes that came to hand. 'She's in hospital in Oxford.'
'What happened?'
'I don't know...' Hermione bundled her hair into a ponytail and snatched her wand from the top of the wardrobe, before she gave Ron a swift kiss. 'I'll ring when I find out,' she promised.
'Do you want me to meet you there later?' Ron called after her.
'No...' she replied, her voice fading as she Disapparated.
Sighing, Hermione shifted in the hard chair, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her jumper. Her mother looked even frailer than she had a week ago, if it was at all possible. 'Mrs. Weasley?' Hermione didn't answer right away. "Mrs. Weasley" was what people called Molly. 'Mrs. Weasley?' the doctor repeated.
'Oh, sorry...' Hermione looked up at the young face of her mother's doctor. What's her name? Dr... Fisher? No... Dr. Pfeiffer
'We need to discuss your mother.'
'I suppose,' Hermione said dully.
'She's not going to get better,' Dr. Pfeiffer stated.
'What... What will happen?' Hermione began to twist the hem of the jumper between her fingers, wishing desperately she had told Ron to come with her.
'Mrs. Granger has already begun to lose her short term memory. Her address, for example. Your telephone number. And slowly she'll lose the rest of it.'
Cold fear settled in Hermione's stomach. 'How much?' she asked softly.
'Everything. She won't remember you. Or your children. She'll forget your father died.' Dr. Pfeiffer put the pen down. 'She'll become agitated when she doesn't remember things, or when everything around her doesn't match up with what's in her head. Mrs. Granger could also become violent when she's agitated...'
'But Mum's never laid a hand on anyone in her life!'
'Mrs. Weasley... Your mother won't be your mother when she reaches that point,' Dr. Pfeiffer said bluntly.
Hermione began to pinch the bridge of her nose. 'How long does she have?'
The doctor shrugged. 'I'm not sure. It could be in a year. It could be longer.'
'Isn't there something you can do?' Hermione asked anxiously.
'We can slow it down a little,' Dr. Pfeiffer said. 'But we can't reverse it.' She fiddled with his pen for a moment. 'You might want to consider hiring a nurse to stay with your mother. Or placing her in a facility that can care for her.'
Hermione nodded, unable to speak for fear she would begin to cry. She slowly inhaled and exhaled a few times. 'Can't I have her stay with me?' she asked plaintively. She began to make lists in her head, rearranging bedrooms in the flat. Mum's not going to go stay with strangers!
Dr. Pfeiffer shook her head. 'You can,' she allowed. 'But I don't advise it. You can't watch her twenty-four hours a day. You'll wear yourself out.'
'But what if I hire someone to help out?' Even as the words left Hermione's mouth, she knew it would be futile. She couldn't hire a Muggle nurse to come to the flat. Even worse, she knew Jane would become quite agitated by magic. The week after Rose had gone back to school, Hermione had Apparated to the house after work one afternoon. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have thought twice about it -- she had been Apparating in and out of the back garden for twenty years. But that afternoon, Jane had been so badly startled by Hermione's sudden appearance; it took more than an hour to calm her back down.
'You can try it.' Dr. Pfeiffer pulled open a drawer in a filing cabinet, drawing out a pile of brochures and pamphlets. 'Here are some places where your mother can live, and some agencies that will send a nurse to your home, if that's the way you want to go.' She pushed the stack of brightly colored, glossy paper across the desk to Hermione. 'Think about what would be best for your mother. Not you,' she said bluntly.
Hermione reached for the stack of papers, her hand trembling slightly. 'How can you be so clinical about this...?'
'It's my job. And part of my job is to make sure my patients are taken care of. Not coddle their children.' Hermione reared back in shock. 'It might make you feel better to try and care for Mrs. Granger at home, but it's not always the best thing. She'll need constant supervision.' Dr. Pfeiffer rose from her chair. 'You've been here all day. Go on home. Your mother's resting, and you should do the same.'
Numbly, Hermione nodded and walked from the cramped office, clutching the sheaf of papers. She slipped into an alleyway and turned on the spot, blindly Disapparating.
She opened her eyes, her mouth falling open in surprise. She had ended up in Wales, outside Charlie and Bronwyn's house. Hermione hadn't actively been thinking about Bronwyn, but she supposed subconsciously, she had wanted a second opinion. She started to go up the steps to the porch that wrapped around the house, and stopped, one foot teetering on the first step. I can wait. I can wait for Sunday... she tried to tell herself.
'Aiden! Aiden, get down here!' Bronwyn called up the stairs. Aiden silently clomped down the stairs, scowling slightly. Bronwyn supposed he might have been even more taciturn than Charlie. 'Your bicycle's outside. You need to be getting it inside and put away, meb.'
Aiden shrugged and slouched out the front door. Bronwyn sighed heavily and glanced around the kitchen. 'Cachu,' she muttered. Charlie had left for his shift when she came home from her shift at the infirmary, ducking out before she could see the chaos in the house. The kitchen was a shambles, breakfast and lunch dishes stacked on the drain board, bits of egg drying in yellow blotches to the china, crusts of leftover sandwiches growing stale, apple cores turning brown. It didn't take much to clean with magic, but after dealing with myriad illnesses and injuries in a steady stream all day, Bronwyn just wanted a cup of tea and a hot bath for a quiet hour.
'Mam, bopa Hermione's out front,' Aiden said in passing, as he plodded back into the kitchen, and disappeared up the stairs.
'Did you tell her to come inside, you wee ynfytyn?' The only reply Bronwyn received was the sound of Aiden's bedroom door closing. 'I'm too old for this,' she muttered, jabbing her wand toward the dishes, setting them to scour themselves, as she strode to the front door. She yanked the door open, and was confronted with a pale, tense Hermione, standing on the bottom step that led to the porch. 'Are you all right?' she asked.
Hermione glanced up and nodded stiffly.
'Would you like to come inside?'
Hermione's face creased in dismay, but she nodded again, stumbling up to the porch and edging into the sitting room of the modest house.
'I apologize for the state of the place,' Bronwyn sighed. 'The boys, and I include Charlie in that, quite forgot to pick up after themselves.'
'It's fine,' Hermione said faintly.
Bronwyn ushered Hermione into the kitchen, and jabbed her wand at the table. 'Evanesco,' she murmured, clearing the crumbs and spills. 'Tea?' Without waiting for an answer, Bronwyn tapped the kettle and Summoned two cups and saucers from the dresser. She poured a cup for Hermione and pushed it across the table to her. Bronwyn picked up her cup and began to sip the tea, waiting. Living with Charlie for so long had taught her a great deal of patience. Hermione would talk when she was ready.
'My mother...' Hermione began. 'She's... she's not well.' Bronwyn merely nodded, continuing to sip her tea in seeming placidity. 'She's losing her memory, and the Muggle doctors can't do anything to reverse it.' Hermione looked up in desperation. 'Can we?'
Bronwyn set her cup down slowly. She had heard Jane Granger was ill from Molly. 'Alzheimer's, is it?'
'Yes,' Hermione admitted. 'How do you know about Alzheimer's? It's a Muggle disease, isn't it?'
'It happens to magic folk. Maybe not as often, but it does.'
'But can we help my mum?'
Bronwyn wound a lock of hair around her finger. She quite understood the fierce attachment between Hermione and her mother. Her own mother had died when Bronwyn was a small girl, younger than five years old, and Bronwyn didn't remember her very much. Daffyd had raised her and she couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch him slowly disappear.
Bronwyn took a deep breath. 'No...'
Hermione's face fell slightly.
'Like the Muggles, we can slow its progression, but we cannot cure it, either.'
'Are you sure?' Hermione felt she was grasping at straws. 'There's not some new spell or potion?'
Hating to disappoint Hermione, Bronwyn slowly shook her head. 'No,' she whispered. 'It happens so rarely to magical folk that most of us have never seen it, much less treated it.'
'Bloody, fucking hell,' Hermione growled. 'Sorry...' She took a gulp of the scalding tea to cover her discomfiture. 'I've been living with Ron too long,' she mumbled.
'Don't worry about it,' Bronwyn shrugged. 'Understandable under the circumstances.'
'What should I do?' Hermione asked morosely.
'I don't know,' Bronwyn admitted. 'I've not had much experience with it. A few years ago, one of the other keepers brought his mother to live with him. She didn't live much longer after that.'
Hermione felt her heartbeat slow while the blood rushed in her ears. 'What happened?' she asked, almost afraid to hear the response.
Bronwyn meditatively traced the rim of the cup. 'She fell, broke her hip, was bedridden for a long time.' She caught the expression on Hermione's face and added, 'Even with magic, broken bones don't heal as well with older people. Magic just prods the body into trying to heal the break a bit faster.' Bronwyn sipped her tea. 'She died a few months after she broke her hip.'
'Oh.' The single word seemed to deflate Hermione. 'If it were you, in my position, what would you do?'
Bronwyn sighed and Summoned a tin of biscuits Molly sent home with them after last Sunday's dinner. She pried off the lid and anxiously nibbled one, while she pushed it across the table to Hermione. 'I don't know that one, either. But it was difficult for Edward after a time to manage her. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, convinced it was daytime. She would wake him up, insisting he was in her house. She wandered, and came dangerously close to the enclosure while they were coaxing a Welsh Green to give up her clutch of eggs. Nearly breached the wards and charms on it.' She reached for another biscuit. 'Considering your mother's a Muggle, I wouldn't recommend that she live with you. From what I could tell with Edward's mother, magic tended to disorient her even more, and she had lived her entire life as a witch.'
Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. 'So I should find somewhere else for her to live?'
'Again that's your decision, but maybe you should talk to your mother. While she can still understand you.'
Harry stood next to the Head of the Obliviator Department, nearly yanking his hair out in frustration. Things had gotten vile with MacNair. He had taken to transfiguring small bits of rubbish into animated puppets of the most fearsome magical creatures and Banishing them into Muggle children's bedrooms making them feel as if their worst nightmare had come to life. And seeing as how he'd been on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, the breadth of his knowledge was quite vast, not to mention terrifying. MacNair had been caught red-handed, with a vague expression on his face that signaled he'd been Imperiused. If that were indeed the case, MacNair would never have even had to see the person who'd cast the spell.
Carolina, the Obliviator Head, was rubbing her temples, her wand dangling from her fingers. 'So, now what?' she asked exasperatedly.
'We have to put him in Azkaban,' Harry groaned, thinking of the pile of paperwork it would create for him. 'We don't have a choice -- he's been caught in the act.'
Carolina twisted her heavy mane of grey-streaked hair into a careless knot and jabbed her wand through it. 'We still haven't any idea who the bloody ringleader is, do we?'
'No,' Harry sighed. The impending dawn leached the colors from the surrounding neighborhood, making Harry feel far older than his thirty-eight years. He'd been awakened at two in the morning by a member of the Obliviator Department via Floo, and it was nearly six now. 'I just...' He shook his head. 'I have this feeling that it's someone who knows Memory charms really well.'
Carolina snorted. 'That's half the Obliviator Department.'
Harry felt his shoulders slump. 'I know.'
'We should get going,' Carolina sighed. 'It'll be morning soon, and the squad's nearly done with the family.'
'We're done,' a voice said next to Harry, making him jump. Teddy's face was drawn and tired.
'What memory did you give them?' Carolina asked, coming alert all at once with an ease Harry envied.
'Pretty much kept things the same, just removed the memory of the creature and of us barging in to take care of it.'
'So the kid thinks he's had a nightmare and his parents came in to comfort him?' Harry rubbed the back of his neck, working the knots from it.
'Yeah,' Teddy replied, too tired to try and clarify it further.
Harry nodded and trudged to the four-person MLE squad, preparing to take MacNair to Azkaban. He felt decidedly mixed at this. He'd disliked MacNair since he was thirteen years old, but Azkaban was still a somewhat horrid place to be. Harry didn't wish it on his worst enemies. 'Go ahead and take him in. I'll submit the paperwork to the Minister in the morning.'
'One down, two to go,' an MLE Hit Wizard sighed.
'Thanks for coming out,' Harry said. 'That's one less trip for me to make,' he told the MLE squad. He handed the leader a wad of parchment. 'That's the paperwork to process him at Azkaban.'
'Thanks, mate,' the leader said, tucking it into his pocket. 'Let's go.'
Teddy slung an arm over Harry's shoulders. 'You got time for breakfast?'
'Are you cooking?' Harry asked fearfully.
'Nope. But I am buying. There's a place by the flat that does a good spread. You're going to have to go in soon, and you'd do better with a hot meal in you.'
Harry smiled a little. 'I keep forgetting you're all grown up sometimes. That's supposed to be my line.' He yawned and stretched, working the kinks from his back. 'I wonder if I can manage a kip in my office before I have to hand the papers over to Kingsley...'
'Have the kip after,' Teddy advised. 'Trust me. I've worked too many overnight shifts the last three years.'
'Have you proposed yet?' Harry asked.
Teddy grimaced. 'No. But Fleur and Bill are okay with it. Vic went back to classes a couple of weeks ago, and she's sort of tied up, and I don't want to do it while she's muttering Healing spells under her breath, with a pencil tucked behind her ear.'
'Does she know? Vic, I mean?'
'Yeah. Molly invited me over for dinner a few days later, and nearly burst into tears when she hugged me. I managed to find out from Arthur that Vic had been over the day before.'
'I keep telling you, trying to keep a secret in this family is like trying to hold water in your hands.' Harry stretched again. 'Come on, then. Let's go have a gallon of tea before I fall on my nose.'
Teddy walked in silence next to Harry while they trudged through the streets of Soho. 'You want someone to go up to Azkaban with you while you're examining MacNair?'
Harry's head snapped up and he gazed at his godson. 'What makes you think I need to have my hand held?' he huffed.
Teddy glanced at Harry pointedly. 'How long have I known you?'
'Since you were born,' Harry retorted.
'Right. And twice a year, you have to interrogate former Death Eaters.' Teddy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 'I remember one day, when I was about six or seven, and Gran had sent me to stay with you for a few weeks during the summer. Had to be six, James wasn't born yet,' he mused. 'Anyway,' he continued. 'I remember this one day, when Ginny took me to Shell Cottage while she went to work for a few hours, then when she picked me up, we went to the Burrow, instead of your flat.'
'D' you have a point, Ted?' Harry asked with a hint of irritation.
'That was the first time I could remember you not paying any sort of attention to me. You normally came to tuck me into bed, but not that night. Ginny said you weren't feeling well.'
'How can you remember that?'
Teddy shrugged. 'I just do. It was just something out of the ordinary for me.' He stopped and waited for a light to change so they could cross the street. 'I just kept noticing it -- that it was the same time every summer. And the summer before my fourth year, I asked Ginny about it. We always went to the Burrow or somewhere else for the day, and this time, when we came home, you were holed up in the office, and Lily was only three, I guess, and she toddled in there, and you shouted at her. I thought it was odd, because you never shouted at Lily, except for the time she tried to touch the stove. But the point is... Ginny told me what it's like for you.' He steered Harry into the door of a small greasy spoon.
Harry dropped into a chair at a postage stamp sized table. 'Not my finest day,' he muttered, too tired to care that Ted was privy to his vulnerabilities.
'You don't have to go up there and deal with MacNair alone, is all I'm trying to say.' Teddy perused the plastic-covered menu, changing the subject to items the small café regularly bungled that Harry should avoid.
Teddy stood on the shore of the rocky island that housed Azkaban, shivering slightly. 'How come you don't teach others how to do Legilimency?' The mental toll it took on Harry was quite obvious.
'I leave that to the experts,' Harry replied tiredly. 'Rafa's much better at teaching it than I am.' Harry shook all over, as if he had a fever. 'Do you mind Side-Alonging me? I just...' He shrugged helplessly.
'You want me to Side-Along you?' Teddy asked incredulously. 'I'm all right if it's just me, but --'
'Of course I do, Ted. I trust you.'
Teddy drew in a deep breath and took Harry's elbow in his hand. 'Ginny will kill me if I Splinch you,' he muttered.
One corner of Harry's mouth turned up in a small smile. 'You Apparate. I'll worry about Gin.'
Teddy exhaled slowly and turned. His eyes popped open, as soon as that suffocating sensation dissipated that marked Apparition. His head swiveled to his right, and he sighed explosively in relief at seeing Harry whole. 'Thank Merlin...' he whispered.
'I had total faith in you,' Harry murmured.
Teddy shaded his eyes with a hand. 'Is that a village over there?'
Harry nodded carefully. His head was beginning to pound. 'Yes.'
'Got a decent pub or café?'
'Pub's all right.'
'Good. You need some tea.'
'Chocolate,' Harry said.
'Chocolate, then,' allowed Teddy. He chatted about Lily's obsession with blue nail varnish, the final Gryffindor Quidditch game next week against Ravenclaw, how excited Al was at being able to finally get his chance to win the Cup.
It wasn't until they were settled in a secluded nook, Harry cradling a large mug of hot chocolate, looking somewhat less ill, did Teddy broach a subject that had bothered him for a few days. 'Why do they make you do this?' he asked.
Harry set his cup down, warmth already spreading through his veins. 'I asked to do it,' he said simply. 'Rather barmy of me in hindsight, but in those early days, I was determined to not be perceived as receiving special treatment.' He swiped a finger through the dollop of whipped cream on the surface of his hot chocolate and licked it off the tip. 'I just didn't want people to think I was trying to beg off my duties. I was already a full Auror without going through the formal training, and all those rather horrid lessons with Severus Snape seemed to have seeped through my thick skull. Once Riddle was out of my head, things came a lot easier.'
'Just doesn't seem fair,' Teddy objected. 'Don't they know what it does to you?'
'No.' Harry picked up his mug once more. 'And I prefer to keep it that way.' He took a long sip of his chocolate.
'Why won't you say something to Shacklebolt?' Teddy persisted.
'Because it's my job, Ted. And someone has to do it.'
The secretary at Lily's primary school looked at Harry and Ginny over the rims of her half-moon glasses. 'You're here for copies of Lily Potter's records?'
Harry leaned on the scarred wooden counter. 'Yes.'
The secretary scribbled something on a clipboard. 'And your reasons?'
'She's going to a different school in the autumn,' Ginny replied. They'd had to do this for James and Al, as well. The comprehensive school had called in a panic when James hadn't shown up for the first day of classes, so Harry and Ginny had had to formally withdraw James, under the pretense he was attending a school for gifted children. It had become a routine for them.
'The same one as your other two?' the secretary asked skeptically.
'Yes,' Harry sighed. He hated school bureaucracy. It reminded him of Ministry paperwork.
The secretary frowned looking in Lily's file. 'Have you always been Lily's mother?' she asked Ginny.
'Of course I have!' Ginny exclaimed indignantly. 'What sort of a question is that?'
The secretary's eyebrow rose. 'According to Lily's file, her mother is Imelda Fincher-Blakley.' She laid the file on the counter, a bony finger pointing to the line that was supposed to have Ginny's name. 'Not Ginevra Potter.'
'Trust me,' Harry assured the secretary. 'Ginny is most definitely Lily's mother. I was there.' The secretary eyed Ginny distrustfully. 'Ginny's name was on the boys' files. How could Lily have had a different mother?'
Pursing her lips primly, the secretary sniffed and shoved the clipboard toward Harry and Ginny. 'Sign here,' she said tightly.
Harry rolled his eyes and picked up the pen the secretary offered and scrawled his signature over the line the secretary indicated. He nudged it to Ginny who did the same, her lips pressed into a thin line that wouldn't have looked out of place on McGonagall. He picked up the file the secretary pointedly placed in front of him, and placed a hand on Ginny's back, guiding her out of the school's office.
He refrained from laughing out loud until they were in front of the school, the offending file tucked under Harry's arm. He held out his hand to Ginny, grinning at her obvious confusion. 'Hiya. I'm Harry Potter, and you are Imelda Fincher-Blakely, I believe?'
'Sod off,' Ginny muttered. 'How could they make such a horrible mistake?'
'Don't worry about it, Imelda. They know who you are at Hogwarts.'
'You're sleeping on the sofa tonight,' Ginny threatened.
'This is our last one,' Harry murmured sadly.
'Yeah,' sighed Ginny. 'Could we not talk about that until September first?'
Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulders and pressed his lips to her temple. 'As you wish.'
Okay... Full disclosure... My grandfather died in October 2007 of Alzheimer's. I'm basing the advice I have Dr. Pfeiffer give Hermione on our experiences. (My parents did try to have him live with them for a while, but it didn't work very well...) Whatever decision Hermione makes in regards to Jane, I'm not going to undertake it lightly or strictly to cause complications for Hermione, any more than I already have...
And in my head Bronwyn speaks Welsh and English fluently, as do all of her and Charlie's children. So thanks to the Department of Welsh at the University of Wales, Lampeter, I offer the following translations: meb mother; bopa aunt; ynfytyn idiot; cachu shit. I'm not exactly familiar with Welsh, so if anyone out there is fluent in Welsh and I've done it wrong, feel free to let me know and I'll make the necessary corrections.
THIRTY TWO -- Breathless
Al pulled the fingerless gloves over his hands, settling them into place over his wrists, flexing his fingers a few times to ensure the fit was good. He strapped the protective pads over his forearms the way Ginny had taught him. Snug, but not so tight it cut off the circulation to his hands. The thick socks and shin pads were next, then the heavy boots. None of it weighed a great deal, but it was necessary to prevent serious injury from becoming catastrophic injury.
He heaved a sigh, watching James wind a sports version of Spellotape around his fingers. James' fingers had a tendency to jam and taping seemed to help. Rose used her wand to tightly plait her hair, as did Maddie and Izzy. Fred and Jacob carefully checked their bats for cracks, murmuring repairing spells when they found a spot that troubled them.
The air in the locker room was anxious and tense, but it usually was before a game. Today, however, it was positively stifling.
Al had always heard his parents talk about winning the Quidditch Cup at school. He'd spent countless hours in the trophy room, gazing in awe at the plaques from the years their team had won the cup, tracing their names with a fingertip. He wanted this so badly, he could practically taste it. He pulled a Muggle golf ball from his pocket and started tossing it in the air, trying to catch it with his eyes closed.
'It's time to go,' Izzy said quietly. As one, they rose and grasped their brooms, and strode purposefully toward the door in a single file line, Izzy in the lead. Al focused on the gold-edged black number six on the back of Rose's robes. He snorted with sudden mirth, as he realized they were the only team that had first initials on the backs of their robes, since they all had the same two last names. Still chuckling, he mounted his broom, and kicked up when Maya Hytner, the Slytherin who announced the games, said his name.
Al flew around the pitch a few times, getting a feel of the conditions. It was sunny, but not too bright, warm, with a soft breeze. Perfect.
The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, and Al's focus narrowed to the Snitch. He was aware of Bludgers speeding past his head or under his feet, dodging them neatly, his gaze scanning the area for a tell-tale glint of sunlight on the silver wings of the Snitch. He could hear the shrill ding of the bell heralding a goal, along with the raucous roar of Gryffindor. He saw Abbie, the Ravenclaw Seeker, from the corner of his eyes. She was hot on the twig-ends of his broom. Her broom was slightly better than his, so it was imperative that he find the Snitch before she could outrace him.
The bell signals slowly faded from his consciousness, and everything around him faded until the only thing that existed was the search for the Snitch. He saw the spark of sunbeams reflecting off the Snitch, and darted toward it, looping over Abbie, making her scream in surprise and fury. Diving in the direction of the ground, Al pried one hand off the handle of his broom, and stretched his fingertips toward it, Abbie's hand closing over his, their fingertips brushing it at the same time. They landed in tandem, both of them clutching the Snitch.
Al glanced around him, suddenly aware the hush that had descended over the stadium. The sound of his own breath was harsh in his ears. The rest of the Gryffindor team landed behind him, the Ravenclaw team behind Abbie. All eyes were fixed on the wings flapping madly between Al and Abbie's hands.
Madam Pimm, the flying instructor, came pelting across the pitch. She held out her hand for the snitch, and Al and Abbie reluctantly handed it to her. 'Flesh memories...' someone could be heard murmuring into the yawning silence. It was rare for both Seekers to touch the Snitch at the same time, but it happened.
Madam Pimm closed her hand gently around the Snitch, her eyes drifting shut.
Al waited, his breath catching in his throat. Please, please, please... he begged silently, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and knew it was James'. He didn't see Madam Pimm's hand point to the Gryffindor team, but he heard the shouts from the stands. He opened his eyes in time to see Madam Pimm hand the large trophy to Izzy.
XxXxXxX
Hermione knocked on the front door of the house, holding her breath until the door opened, and Jane's confused face appeared in the small crack she allowed. 'Mum?' Hermione asked with an edge of doubt coloring her voice. 'Can I come in?'
'Of course you can.' Jane held the door open wider. 'Why didn't you come through the back garden?'
'Would you like some tea, Mum?' Hermione sidled through the door.
'I'd love some,' Jane said, relieved. 'I don't seem to remember buying any tea, though.'
'Mum, I just brought you some groceries the other day,' Hermione sighed. She went into the kitchen and stopped, staring around the room, her mouth open in abject shock. The kitchen was in a shambles. Plates with dry, crusty remains of food teetered in the sink. Cupboard doors hung open. Half-drunk cups of tea, a scum of milk over the top, littered the counter.
'Oh... I could have sworn I did the dishes the other day.' Jane's confused voice came from behind Hermione.
'Go have a seat in the sitting room, Mum,' Hermione said brightly. 'I'll take care of this, and bring you some tea in a few minutes.' Hermione took Jane's arm, and guided her to her favorite chair. She went back into the kitchen, and took a deep breath, and swept her wand around the kitchen. In seconds, the dishes were cleaned and in the cupboards, the counters sparkled, and a kettle of hot water hummed softly on the stove. 'Magic is a very good thing,' Hermione murmured, as she prepared a pot of tea.
She took the tea on a tray to the sitting room, and handed her mother a cup, perching on the ottoman next to Jane. 'Mum... We need to talk.'
'About what?' Jane sipped her tea placidly.
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt, rolling it between her thumb and index finger. 'About you not living here anymore,' she choked.
'Why can't I?'
Hermione's hand clenched. 'You need to be somewhere where someone can look after you during the day...'
'I'm capable of looking after myself,' Jane snapped peevishly.
'I know you are, Mum,' Hermione said in a placating tone. 'But would you be comfortable with someone staying here with you?'
'Strangers in my home? Absolutely not.'
Hermione swallowed heavily. 'There's a place, Mum, here in Oxford. You can have a small flat there, and they'll bring you your meals. They show films and have games,' she added desperately.
Jane's face crumpled. 'Why are you doing this?'
'Mum, I really want you to consider this... Before you hurt yourself. Or someone else,' Hermione told her mother painfully. 'Or before I have to have you declared incompetent and force you to move...' Hermione reached over and took one of Jane's hands in hers. 'I don't want to do that, Mum...'
'Get out,' Jane said softly. 'Get out!' she repeated, louder.
'Mum... I...'
'Go home.' Jane yanked her hand from Hermione's grasp and went into the back garden.
Helplessly, Hermione watched her stalk away, then regretfully stood up, and Disapparated
XxXxXxX
Harry sighed as he knotted the tie carefully at the base of his throat. 'Ruddy, useless things,' he muttered, as he settled the knot between the points of his shirt collar.
'Is this okay?' Lily asked, looking down at her dress, hopping on one foot, as she pulled on her other shoe.
Ginny presented her back to Harry, who pulled the zipper tab of Ginny's dress up to the top of the bodice. 'You look fine, Lils.'
'Will there be lots of Muggles there, do you think?' Lily stood next to Harry at the cheval mirror, and adjusted the ribbon that held her dark red hair away from her face.
'Probably,' Ginny told her. 'Dudley doesn't know any magic folk, except us.'
'How are we getting there?' Lily leaned against Harry.
'Apparition to Diagon Alley, then we'll take a train to Barkingside.' Harry smoothed a hand over Lily's shimmering hair.
'Speaking of,' Ginny piped up. 'We need to leave now if we plan to get to the church on time.'
Harry picked up his jacket and slid his arms through the sleeves. 'Ready, Lily?'
'I've been ready.'
'Harry?' Teddy yelled up the stairs. 'Come on!'
'And you usually have to fuss at one of them for dawdling,' Ginny murmured, following Lily down the stairs.
'I'm just nervous,' Harry muttered.
'You'll be fine,' Ginny assured him.
'Why did he have to pick me?'
'Because he thinks you'll be a good influence on Sarah.' Ginny squeezed Harry's hand. 'He trusts you.'
Harry gulped audibly and nodded stiffly. It's not going to come overnight, he told himself. One thing at a time... He met Teddy and Lily at the bottom of the stairs, and slung an arm around Teddy's shoulders. 'Thanks for coming, mate,' he said softly.
'No worries, Harry.' Teddy held his arms out. 'So do I look all right?' He wore a neatly pressed shirt and tie, with dark trousers. His hair was its normal sandy brown, flopping over his forehead.
'You look fine,' Ginny said. 'I'm sorry you had to give up your one day a week with Vic when she's not studying.'
'I'll live,' Teddy quipped, pushing the back door open, and gripping Lily's hand tightly. He Disapparated them to Diagon Alley, ahead of Harry and Ginny.
Ginny took Harry's hand and led him to the back garden. She turned and before Harry could say another word, he found himself in Diagon Alley, following Ginny through the Leaky Cauldron to the street. The Tube at Charing Cross to Tottenham Court Road, then the longer ride up to Barkingside. Harry spent the journey worrying a button on the sleeve of his jacket between his fingers, half-listening to the chatter between Lily and Teddy.
As they approached Holy Trinity, Harry's mouth felt as if he'd attempted to eat a large wad of cotton wool. The service passed in a blur, the unfamiliar words flowing over him. He stood when everyone else did, knelt when they did, and stared sightlessly at the prayer book in his hands. He jumped several inches off the pew when Ginny elbowed his ribs sharply, fumbling the replace the book in the small slot on the back of the pew in front of them. He shakily got to his feet and went to the front of church, taking Sarah from Aaron's arms.
There was something about holding a baby that automatically improved Harry's mood. He smiled at Sarah, and crooned softly to her, as her face scrunched in befuddlement at the change in her scenery. He held her over a font, while the minister poured water over the dark downy hair that covered her head. Sarah didn't like it. She screeched in protest as the cold water flowed over her head. Harry cuddled her sympathetically, quieting her whimpers before he handed her back to Dudley and Aaron, who were beaming with pride. Before Harry returned to his seat, Aaron mouthed, 'Thank you.' Harry smiled in response, ducking his head in a fit of bashfulness before he slid into the pew next to Ginny.
After the service, Harry found himself in a room that reminded him of a miniature Great Hall, sipping a cup of coffee gratefully. Dudley folded himself into the spindly chair next to Harry. 'I really appreciate it, Harry.'
'I'm glad to do it,' Harry said. Feeling slightly less nervous, Harry indicated Teddy. 'If you want a reference, ask him. That's my godson, Teddy.'
'That's Teddy?' Dudley asked. 'But he's grown...'
Harry's lips curved in a small smile. 'I wasn't eighteen when his dad asked me to be his godfather. His father and mine were mates at school, and once Remus found out where I was he sort of looked after me as best he could.' Harry set his cup down on the table. 'He died when Teddy was just a month old. So did his mum,' Harry added quietly.
'So you raised him?' Dudley asked.
'No. Not by myself. He lived with his grandmother. I just helped.'
'I wouldn't call it helping,' Teddy snorted. 'You took care of me when I was sick, took me to footie matches, took me to buy my things for school. Yelled at me when I needed it. Took me down a few pegs when I deserved it. That's not helping,' he said pointedly, snagging the biscuit Lily had left on her plate.
Harry's ears burned. 'Anyway,' he mumbled, taking a hasty gulp of his coffee. 'The boys will be home from school in a few weeks, and Ginny and I would like to invite you, Aaron, and Sarah over for dinner.' He ran a hand through his disordered hair. 'You can meet James and Al then.'
'Maybe it'll go better this time around,' Dudley quipped lightly.
'One can hope.' Harry hesitated for a moment. 'I'm really sorry about that...'
Dudley blew out a breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. 'Yeah.' He smiled when someone handed him Sarah, who cooed at the sight of her father. 'So you'll ring?'
'Yeah. I'll even tell you how to get to the house. It can be a bit tricky.'
Dudley laughed softly. 'That would be nice.' He got to his feet carefully shifting Sarah. 'If you'll excuse me, I need to go say hello to some of my neighbors...' He wound his way through the crowd, stopping to greet a large group of people.
Harry glanced around the room curiously. He didn't remember seeing Vernon or Petunia earlier in the church. But he'd been so nervous; he didn't think he'd have noticed if McGonagall had done the can-can starkers. Harry got to his feet and found Aaron in a corner, talking to the minister. Harry waited politely until the minister excused himself. 'Where are Dudley's parents?'
'They didn't come,' Aaron admitted. 'We telephoned to invite them.' He bit his lip. 'It wasn't pretty,' he confessed in a whisper.
'I'm sure it was quite unpleasant,' Harry said.
'That would be an understatement,' Aaron agreed.
Harry sighed. It was one thing for Vernon and Petunia to dislike him. It was quite another to dislike their own child, and by extension his partner and their child. 'So, look, the boys will be home from school soon, and Gin and I were planning on having you over.'
Aaron flashed him a look of pure gratitude. 'That would be great.'
XxXxXxX
Draco paced outside the sitting room restlessly. There was nothing in his experience with marriage that could enable him to go into the room and just talk to his wife. It wasn't that she couldn't carry a conversation. On the contrary, Daphne was intelligent and well-informed. He had never bothered to try and engage her in conversation before. Not once in fifteen years of marriage. When he did bother to talk to Daphne, he resorted to speaking in pronouncements. It was all he knew.
His hand hovered over the doorknob uncertainly, before he grasped the ornate gilt doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open. Daphne sat curled in a comfortable sofa, reading a book by the light of a single, dim lamp. Feeling somehow irritated by this, Draco slashed his wand through the air, forcing the room into blazing brightness. 'I'm going to Nice next week,' he stated. 'And I want you and...' He took a deep breath. 'Scorpius... to join me as soon as he comes home from school.'
Daphne opened her mouth to object. 'But...'
'See to it,' Draco growled impatiently. 'We'll be there most of the summer.' He swept from the room, hating himself for how he'd handled it.
Daphne bit her lip against the prickle of humiliated tears, as she crept to her desk, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. Scorpius had asked to spend a few days with Al at the Potters', but it looked as if they would have to cancel those plans. She hated to disappoint Scorpius. She knew that going to Andromeda's for tea on Saturday when Teddy was off duty was one of the highlights of his summer, as was the weekend he spent with Al and his family. She sighed and began to write a terse letter to Scorpius.
XxXxXxX
The train hurtled toward King's Cross, carrying two very dejected boys. 'What crawled up your father's bum and died?' Al grumbled.
'No idea.' Scorpius rested his forehead against the glass of the window, staring at the countryside that flew by. He turned to Al, his face creased in anxiety. 'You'll write me over the holiday?'
'Of course,' Al said.
'Station's coming up,' Rose said crisply. She reached into a bin over her seat and tugged her school bag down, so she could stow her book in it. 'Maybe it won't be so bad,' she suggested.
Scorpius snorted. 'Well, one good thing is that I won't be forced to associate with Geoffery over the summer.'
'See?' Rose offered. 'There's a bright side to everything.' She buckled the clasp of her bag. 'Well, almost everything.' She had received a letter from Hugo a few days ago. Something had happened with Hermione, and Hugo was worried. That made Rose concerned. Hugo didn't worry about much, but if he was uneasy enough to take the effort to write to her, something must be horribly wrong.
XxXxXxX
'Right,' Harry said, eyeing his children, sitting around the table. 'Your mum and I have a do at the Ministry Saturday evening. 'Neville and Hannah have graciously offered to keep an eye on you lot at the Leaky Cauldron. And since it'll be a late night, you get to stay there overnight,' he informed them.
'Really?' James' face lit up and a smile blossomed over his features. At his father's raised eyebrow, he slouched in his chair and mumbled nonchalantly, 'Yeah, that's cool...' James pushed his plate to the middle of the table. 'May I be excused?' he asked.
'After you put your plate in the sink,' Ginny said. James obeyed with alacrity, and left the kitchen, his footfalls fading as he went upstairs.
Harry toyed with his cherry crumble, spearing a cherry with his fork. 'What was that about?'
'He's fourteen.' Ginny smiled slightly. 'Almost fifteen.'
'So?'
'If I recall correctly, you were just as cheerful at that age.'
'Dad was a surly git?' Al asked, his teeth stained with cherry juice.
'I wouldn't go that far,' Harry murmured, around a mouthful of his pudding.
'I would,' Ginny replied promptly. 'And James hasn't quite reached that level of surliness yet. He just doesn't want people to think he thinks it's cool to go stay with Neville and Hannah.'
'That's stupid,' Lily commented, carefully scraping the topping from her own dish of crumble. She liked to eat it last.
'That's being a teenager,' Ginny sighed.
XxXxXxX
Harry ran a finger over the silken strap of Ginny's midnight-hued dress. He loved her in dark blue. It put him in mind of the dress she'd worn at another Ministry function years ago, when she was carrying James. His arm tightened around her waist, and he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back. 'I'd swear you wore this to torture me,' he told her.
'How so?'
Harry grinned wolfishly down at her. 'Remember...? There was some Quidditch thing going on and we had to go to some bloody reception. I seem to remember Aiden Lynch making a pass at my lovely wife. You,' he told Ginny. 'Were wearing a particularly lovely dress in this shade of blue.' He lowered his head, so his mouth brushed against her ear. 'Couldn't keep my hands off you,' he whispered.
Ginny stifled the giggles that bubbled up as she sifted through her memories. 'I remember that...' She sipped her drink, smiling demurely at the Ministry official that greeted them. 'Hormonal didn't even begin to describe it...'
Harry glanced at his watch. 'So... dinner, a few speeches... some dancing...'
'Two hours, maybe?' Ginny guessed. 'Three at the outside.'
'After the first dance, we won't be missed,' Harry murmured, his hand sliding lower down Ginny's back.
'What are you suggesting?' Ginny was enjoying the game thoroughly. It was almost better than playing Quidditch with just the two of them and a Snitch.
'Oh... Not much...' Harry's fingertips trailed up Ginny's back. 'Thought I could show you something... in my office...'
'I'll let you know after dinner,' Ginny promised. 'During the first dance.'
Harry inhaled sharply. 'That's just cruel, Ginevra.'
Ginny's eyes widened. 'Oh, you'll pay for that...'
'Pay for what?' The sound of Teddy's voice made Harry start a little. Teddy pulled out a chair for Victoire.
Harry's eyes narrowed at Ginny. 'Nothing...'
Teddy looked around the table. 'Where are Ron and Hermione?'
'They couldn't come,' Ginny said succinctly.
'Her mother?' Victoire guessed.
'Yeah,' Harry said.
'Well, fancy seeing you here,' Arthur said dryly, approaching the table. He frowned counting the occupants. 'Percy's not here yet?'
'Oh, he's over on the other side with Penny, talking to the Head of International Magical Cooperation.' Ginny gestured to a small clump of people across the room. 'He's been here for an hour.'
'Have you talked to Hermione?' Molly asked Ginny.
'Not since Wednesday.' Ginny sipped her wine. 'She hasn't been working in the Ministry for the past few weeks. And when she's at her mother's, she doesn't answer her mobile. And Ron's almost as clueless as the rest of us, since he's been taking care of Rose and Hugo, while Hermione's gone.'
'That does not bode well...' Molly mused.
'No, it doesn't...' Ginny sighed.
XxXxXxX
The dinner dragged on interminably. The food was the standard rubbery chicken and overcooked vegetables. Molly poked at it with her fork. 'You'd think they could get better food. Pity you can't do much with it, magically...'
Harry snorted. 'I've been coming to these bloody things for twenty years. The food's never gotten better.' He speared a lifeless stalk of broccoli. 'I think this might be an improvement over last year,' he stated, holding it up. 'It doubled over on itself then.'
Teddy prodded his own broccoli. It bent easily against the curve of the tip of his knife. 'Doesn't look like much of an improvement.'
'Improvement's a relative term for Ministry function meals,' Penny confessed, with a wry grin. 'If it doesn't make you... Erm... Uncomfortable later...' She shrugged eloquently. 'That's an improvement.'
The rustles in the room gradually quieted as a wizened, bald man took to the podium set up at the front of the Atrium. 'Oh, bloody hell,' Arthur huffed. 'Speeches...'
'You're just going to fall asleep anyway,' Molly told him.
'It's why I said bloody hell,' Arthur told her. 'You keep poking me in the ribs to wake me up.'
Harry felt Ginny's hand land lightly on his knee. His eyes flicked down to the knee hidden by the tablecloth. She would keep it there, not moving it, just keeping him on the edge of anticipation, wondering if she'd slide her hand further up this thigh. It made the speeches bearable.
Teddy couldn't keep his eyes off Victoire. She was normally quite striking, but tonight, she was stunning. He patted his jacket pocket. The small box was safely inside. If things went according to plan, tonight was the night. He'd already scouted the perfect location in Regent's Park. It had to be Regent's Park. Gran had told him that was where his grandfather had taken her on their first date. They could slip out after the speeches were over. No one would notice they were gone.
Penny watched Percy with a great deal of amusement. He could listen to every speech, discuss them in detail later, and use every bit of information in them to make deals across the Ministry. Out of the nearly two hundred people in the room, Percy was the one of the few actually listening. Even more amusing, he was enjoying it. Penny suppressed a smile, and poked at some gelatinous, paste-like substance that passed as mousse.
Arthur's head dipped a bit and almost immediately, he jerked upright, snorting. It slowly fell forward again, his chin nearly touching his chest before Molly tapped him in the ribs. Hard. He shot upright, inhaling strongly through his nose.
Ginny could feel Harry's thigh tighten under her hand. Keeping a polite smile on her face, she slid her hand up a few inches. She let the smile grow smug as she felt his muscles twitch under her palm. The next hour or two was going to fun. More fun than they'd had in ages.
XxXxXxX
The musicians at the other end of Atrium began to play a waltz. Teddy rose from his chair and held a hand out to Victoire. 'Care to dance?'
'Oh, I don't know,' Victoire said playfully. 'I think I might have to sit this one out and finish this delectable pudding...' She laughed gaily at the stricken expression on Teddy's face. 'I'm joking. I was hoping we could sneak out soon and go get some real food. I'm starving.'
Teddy felt a large smile spread over his features. 'I was hoping you'd say that.'
'One dance, though.' Victoire stood up gracefully and let Teddy lead her to the dance floor.
Percy downed the wine in his glass and glanced at Penny. 'Time to let our hair down, eh?' He grinned and swept her to her feet in a rather well-executed waltz.
Harry nudged Ginny's empty glass. 'Would you like a refill?' he asked.
'Yes, please.' She squeezed his knee, and let her hand slide off his leg.
'Come on, Mollywobbles. Let's go show those young people how to cut a rug.' Arthur leapt to his feet and pulled Molly to hers. Giggling a little, Molly and Arthur joined the growing crowd, leaving Ginny alone at the table.
Harry turned from the bar, a glass of Firewhisky in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other. He saw an alluring woman, sitting alone at her table, her chin propped up in an upturned hand. Intrigued, Harry made his way to the table. 'You alone tonight?' he asked. She glanced up at him, tossing her heavy red hair over her shoulder.
'No, I'm here with my husband, but he seems to have abandoned me,' she sighed.
'He must be a world-class git,' Harry told her. 'Mind if I join you?'
Ginny shook her head, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. 'Not at all.' She noticed the glass of wine Harry sat on the table. 'Is that for your wife?'
Harry made a show of looking for someone. 'Seems I've lost her. Pity.' He pushed the glass a bit closer to Ginny. 'If you want it.'
Ginny picked up the glass and swirled it gently. 'So what brings you here?'
'Oh, I work here.'
'Really? As what?'
Harry grinned abashedly. 'I'm a department Head.'
Ginny's eyebrow rose. 'You're awfully young to be a Head.'
'Youngest Head ever,' Harry said proudly. 'Not that I mean to brag...'
'You must be the Head of some inane department, then,' Ginny pronounced.
'Auror.'
'Oh, I'll believe that when I see it.'
Stung, Harry protested, 'No, really.' He sipped his Firewhisky, examining the pert woman next to him. 'I'll prove it to you.'
'And how are you going to do that?'
Harry shoved his chair away from the table. 'I'll show you my Dark Wizard detector collection.'
Ginny burst into peals of laughter. 'Oh my. That's an offer I can't refuse.' She collected her handbag and wrap and stood up. 'Lead on.'
Harry offered her his arm, and the two of them strolled to the lifts, riding them to Level Two in a tension-filled silence. When the doors opened, Harry led Ginny out of the lift, and began to make his way to the Auror section of the floor. 'This still doesn't prove anything,' she said languidly.
'Just wait.' Harry went down the corridor, past the trainees' classroom, past the warren of cubicles for the Auror staff, and down to the plain door that guarded his office. With a smirk, he tapped the doorknob with his wand, and it swung open. He turned to Ginny and waved her into the office. 'Convinced yet?'
'A little.' Ginny flounced into the office, perching on the edge of the desk. 'I suppose any Head Auror worth five Knuts would safeguard his own office.' She glanced around the office interestedly. 'So where are your Dark Wizard detectors?'
'In some cupboard somewhere...' Harry's mouth lowered to hers. 'Would your husband mind if I did this?' he asked, before he kissed her.
'No more than your wife would,' Ginny murmured.
'How 'bout if I did this?' Harry pushed her back over the edge of the desk, and slid his hand up her stocking-clad leg.
'He'd hate that,' Ginny said throatily.
Harry's hand slid further under the skirt of Ginny's dress, convulsing in surprise when he passed the top of Ginny's stocking, and found... Nothing. He gasped softly. 'Does your husband know you came here with no knickers?' he demanded.
'I meant to surprise him with it later,' Ginny sighed.
'I've changed my mind,' Harry informed Ginny. 'Your husband's a wanker if he ignores you like this.'
Ginny began to undo the buttons of Harry's trousers. 'So would your wife mind if she knew I was about to do this?' She slid her hands into Harry's trousers.
'She'd be furious,' Harry groaned.
'Good,' Ginny whispered.
XxXxXxX
Much, much later, Ginny sat in Harry's lap in his large chair, curled up like a cat. Their clothes were haphazardly strewn about the office in a mute testament to their previous activities. She pressed a kiss to the underside of Harry's jaw, chuckling softly. 'If anyone had been eavesdropping, they'd have assumed we were having an affair.'
Harry traced a line of freckles over Ginny's shoulders. 'Hardly,' he snorted. 'We're both too well known.'
Ginny giggled. 'It was awfully dirty,' she commented.
'Yes, it was.' Harry shifted, wincing as his skin pulled from the leather with an unpleasant squelching noise. 'Want to stay here a bit longer?'
Ginny settled against him. 'Yeah...'
XxXxXxX
Victoire followed Teddy through the Jubilee Gate in Regents Park. 'Where are we going?' she whispered. She hadn't been outside wizarding London much, but she knew the park was closed at this time of night.
'Right here,' Teddy said. He stopped next to a fountain. 'This was where my grandparents had their first date,' he said reverently. 'Gran said he took her to see a production of Romeo and Juliet here. She had to sneak out of the house to meet him.'
Teddy conjured a fluffy blanket and spread it on the grass. He helped Victoire sit down, then joined her, his hand closing over the small box. 'So, Vic...'
'Yes?'
'I know we'll have to wait a bit, but...' He held the box out to Victoire.
Victoire's hands shook slightly as she took the box and opened it. A small diamond gleamed in the night, set in a delicate antique gold setting. 'It's lovely,' she breathed.
'It was my mum's,' Teddy told her. 'Dad said in his journals he spent every last Knut he had on it.' He glanced up at Victoire. 'He didn't have much money.' Teddy took a deep breath. 'Will you marry me?' he said quietly.
Victoire took the ring from its slot and slid it over her finger. It nestled snugly at the base of her finger. 'Yes...'
XxXxXxX
A/N: I don't know much about Church of England christenings, so if anyone knows... :)
There is a church called Holy Trinity in east London. I picked that one for this chapter because in the section of their website where they discuss christenings, they mention the importance of godparents, then use Sirius as an example. (really!) So I had to use that church. :)
I promise, I will deal with Rose and Hugo and how they feel about what's happening with Jane.
And I seriously don't know what my deal is with making Harry and Ginny shag in inappropriate places... It's an illness. lol!
THIRTY THREE -- Inertia
'Dad?' Hugo stood uncertainly in the doorway of Ron and Hermione's bedroom.
Ron glanced up from the book he was reading. 'Yeah?'
'When's Mum coming home?'
Ron laid the book aside and beckoned to Hugo, who pattered to the bed, and clambered up onto it, next to Ron. He leaned into Ron, looking a little lost. Ron put an arm around Hugo's shoulders, marveling a little at how much he resembled Hermione when he was bothered by something. 'I don't know, Hugo,' he admitted softly. 'It's just...' Ron hesitated. He didn't know how much to tell Hugo. Hugo's dark eyes grew darker and his shoulders stiffened.
'I'm not a baby, Dad,' he insisted.
Ron nodded, and fidgeted with the hem of his pajama bottoms. 'I know. I just don't want to upset you.'
'A little late for that, don't you think?' Rose said from the doorway, dressed in a pair of ratty boxers and a t-shirt, socks on her feet. She slowly walked into the room and perched on the foot of the bed. She raised an accusing eyebrow at her father, and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.
'Right...' Ron sighed. 'I know you two know there's something wrong with your grandmother.' At their nods, he continued. 'She's not... She's losing her memory. All of it.'
'Is she going to die?' Hugo asked, his face tense with worry.
'Everybody dies, gumby,' Rose said scornfully.
'Rose Beatrice,' Ron warned. 'Not now.'
'Sorry,' she said gruffly to Hugo, who merely shrugged.
'It's not going to kill her, Hugo,' Ron said. 'But she is fairly elderly by Muggle standards.'
'So?' Hugo picked at a loose thread on the knee of Ron's pajama bottoms.
'She's not going to die tomorrow, if that's what you mean,' Ron said gently. 'But she probably won't remember you the next time you see her. Or she might, but she won't remember everything about you.' Ron's heart twisted seeing Hugo's large eyes fill with tears. 'It's not personal, son,' he said softly. 'She won't mean it.' Hugo clutched a handful of the duvet and gripped it hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He nodded again, sniffling.
'So when's Mum coming home?' Rose asked.
'I really don't know, Rosie,' Ron repeated. 'Your mum doesn't want to leave your grandmother alone, and right now Hermione's the only one your grandmother will allow to stay in the house.'
'Why does Mum have to stay with her?' Rose asked.
Ron rubbed a hand over his face. He wanted Hermione here to help explain everything. He needed her here to fill in all the gaping holes he knew he had left in his explanations to Rose and Hugo. 'Because she forgets other things, too. Like that she's left the stove on, or what time it is. She forgets her address and telephone number. She's a lot like a child, just grown up... If that makes sense.'
Hugo snuffled into the sleeve of his t-shirt. 'Yeah...' he said in a muffled voice. He slid off the bed and trudged out of the bedroom.
Ron turned his gaze to Rose. 'Was that okay?'
'Your explanation?'
'Yeah.'
Rose shrugged. 'It did the job.'
'Obviously it didn't make Hugo feel any better.'
Rose's face scrunched in distaste. 'Really, Dad... What was supposed to make us feel better?'
'I don't know...' Ron's head fell back. 'I'm complete rubbish at this...'
Rose got up. 'No, you're not,' she told him. 'It's just the subject. There is no good way to say it. I don't think even Mum could have put it any better.' Rose shuffled to the door. 'Are you telling us everything?'
'You know as much as I do,' Ron assured her. Rose nodded and left the bedroom, too, leaving Ron alone. He didn't return to his book, but stared up at the ceiling, until his eyes blurred and he gradually fell asleep.
XxXxXxX
Ron found Rose lying on the grass in the garden they shared with a few other people. 'I'm going to go out for a bit,' he said. 'Can I leave you and Hugo alone?'
Rose rolled over onto her back to look up at Ron. 'Are you asking permission?'
'I'm asking if you can handle keeping an eye on Hugo, while I step out for an hour or two, minx,' Ron retorted.
'Please, Dad. I'm thirteen. If I can't be alone, in the house, for half an hour, how can you put me on the train for school?'
'You don't mind?'
'Well...' Rose said thoughtfully. 'I was thinking about leaving Hugo alone, with all the burners on the stove lit, while I took off for Soho to get a tattoo of a set of Quidditch goalposts on my bum.' She rolled her eyes.
Ron nudged her with the toe of his shoe. 'When did you become such a teenager?'
'James was giving lessons on the train home,' she replied promptly with a small giggle.
'And I'll bet he's brilliant at it, too,' Ron muttered. 'Could you give your old man a break and a straight answer, minx?'
'No, I don't mind. And we'll be fine.'
'Right...' Ron ran a hand through his hair. 'There's some Muggle money on the kitchen table, if I'm running a bit late, and you two want dinner.'
'All right.' Rose scrambled to her feet. 'Bye, Dad,' she said softly, hugging him.
Ron smoothed the tumbled curls away from her face. 'I'm only going to Oxford,' he chided. 'Not Siberia.' He kissed her cheek and stepped away, Disapparating as he did so.
He appeared in the back garden of a house he'd come to know as well as the Burrow, and the home he'd made with Hermione over the last fifteen years. Ron craned his head around a corner of the tool shed, sighing in relief when Jane was nowhere to be seen in the garden. His eyes traveled over the roses that ringed the garden, a twinge of sadness making his eyes prickle. They were in a right state -- straggly and unkempt. The sight of them, more than Jane, reminded him something was wrong. He crossed the garden to the back door and knocked softly. Hermione appeared at the door, and opened it, slipping outside. Ron thought she looked worse than the two months Hugo had colic.
And that was saying something, considering she wasn't sporting dried milk stains on her shirt.
'Hey, hen,' he said softly, pulling her into his arms. He felt her tremble slightly, then breathe deeply. 'So how is she?'
Hermione wandered to the trellis and fell into the bench under it. 'Sleeping. For now.'
'You don't look like you've been sleeping, Mione.'
'She'll go to bed at nine or so, then wake up at midnight, and think it's time to get up...' Hermione rubbed a knot from the base of her neck. 'And part of me wants to sleep with one eye open...'
'Why?'
'It's easier to deal with the random cursing when you haven't been asleep. Or when she wants to leave out the front door. Or when she tries to make tea or boil an egg.' Hermione smiled ruefully. 'She tried to make toast yesterday. Tried to stuff the entire loaf of bread into the toaster.' She let a ghost of a laugh escape. 'Forgot she had to slice it...' Suddenly, Hermione bent double, shoulders shaking violently.
Alarmed, Ron knelt in front of her. 'Hermione?' He tried to pry her hands from her face. 'Hen, what is it?'
Hermione lifted her face from her hands. She was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her face. 'Oh, God, it was f-f-f-f-funny. She just didn't understand why the bread wouldn't go in the toaster...' At length, she calmed down. 'I know, it seems entirely inappropriate to laugh, but...' She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. 'Sometimes you have to...' She inhaled and slowly blew the breath out, her shoulders slumping.
'Mione, you can't keep doing this,' Ron mumbled, reaching up to snap off a few dead roses from the trellis.
'I know...' She closed her eyes. They were heavily shadowed. 'I just have to try to convince her to move...'
'Hen, if she didn't want to move when she was lucid, what makes you think she'll want to move now?'
Hermione smiled wanly. 'She has good days, Ron. I'm hoping I can catch her on a good day.'
'But will she remember it?' he persisted.
'I don't know,' Hermione admitted. 'Probably not.' Her voice hitched. 'I'm just going to have to force her, aren't I?'
'Probably.' Ron slid onto the bench. He laced his hand through hers. 'What ever it is you decide to do, Hermione, you're going to have to do it soon.'
'Why?'
Ron tipped her chin up, his thumb gently tracing over the dark circles under her eyes. 'If nothing else, then for your own health.' He got to his feet, his fingers trailing over her cheek in a caress. 'And your mum's...' He ran a hand over her hair. 'The midgets miss you, too.'
Hermione's face fell, guilt flooding her features. 'How am I supposed to choose right now?' she whispered. 'She needs me.'
'She needs you to do what's best for her. She doesn't know what that is anymore, and wearing yourself down to a thread trying to keep anything from happening to her isn't what's best for you, either.' Ron bent and brushed a kiss over Hermione's mouth. 'Think about what you would do if she wasn't your mum...' His fingers traced the lines of her face. 'I have to go back. I left Rosie in charge.'
The corner of Hermione's mouth curled up. 'She's probably got Hugo running ragged.'
'What do you mean probably?' Ron snorted. He kissed her once more. 'Give us a ring later, all right?' Hermione nodded and Ron Disapparated, leaving Hermione sitting on the bench in the July sunshine.
Hermione glanced at her watch, and bit her lip for a moment. She went inside the house and began to search through the writing desk in the sitting room for the brochure Dr. Pfeiffer had given her. She tucked it into her pocket. She didn't want to arrange to have her mother moved there, and it was galling to admit she couldn't handle taking care of her mother, and her own family, and not even herself right now.
XxXxXxX
Draco hunched into the chair on the terrace that overlooked the ocean, twirling his wand between his fingers. You can do it, he told himself. You can point your wand toward you and just say it... It'll be over in a moment... He remembered, just after he'd turned seventeen, how close he had been to dying when Potter had hit him with a curse that split the skin his chest open. He welcomed the sensation of dying then. It meant he would have been free of the ridiculously staggering burden he'd been commanded to do. He stilled the wand, the handle nestling in his palm, as he pointed the tip toward his chest. Justsay it, damn you!
The wand's tip trembled briefly. You don't even have to say it, fool. Think it. Think it and mean it...
A creak in the sitting room behind him, made Draco gasp and lower the wand. He threw a glance over his shoulder into the sitting room. Scorpius had wandered into the room, a glass of milk and a bundle of biscuits wrapped in a serviette balanced in his hands. He began to search the shelves that lined the walls for a book.
Draco drew back into the shadows, his eyes following his son, as he chose a book, then took it upstairs to his bedroom. He exhaled harshly, the wand clattering to the floor as it slipped from his sweaty hands. He waited until he stopped shaking before he stood up and retrieved his wand. Draco swiped the sleeve of his shirt over his face, wondering when he had broken into the clammy sweat that coated his body. He slowly went inside and began the long walk up the stairs, his feet dragging.
Draco stopped at the top of the stairs and heaved a sigh. He thought he could handle the loneliness. The older he got, however, the harder it was to pretend he was detached from everything around him.
He stopped at the first door, seeing a line of light under the door. He entertained going into Scorpius' room and trying to force himself to ask about his school year. What little he knew was from the day Daphne and Scorpius had arrived in Nice, and Narcissa asked about his exam results. He had done quite well in most of his subjects, except for History of Magic. Not that Draco was surprised. That class was dull enough to put ghosts to sleep. He had overheard Scorpius excitedly give Narcissa and Daphne a play-by-play account of the final Quidditch game of the year -- one in which both Seekers had caught the Snitch, but his House's Seeker had touched it a split second before the other team's. As much as Draco had disliked playing in school, even he was impressed by the skills of Potter's son. He would be a formidable opponent, indeed.
Daphne's bedroom was across the hall from his. His hand hovered over the doorknob to her room before he slowly withdrew it and turned, pushing the door of his own room open. Draco slowly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. A thin white scar still snaked across his chest, visible even against his pale skin.
He left his wand lying on top of his discarded shirt as he threw himself across the bed.
He had never wanted to drink himself into a stupor so badly before. He just couldn't make himself get up from his bed and find the supply of liquor he'd stashed in his bedroom.
Draco almost considered it a blessing that he was too deep in his own ennui to even bother Summoning a bottle of Firewhisky.
XxXxXxX
Harry whistled through his teeth as he carried a basket of clean sheets up the stairs. The bathroom door was ajar, and Harry glanced through the gap, stopping when he saw James, standing in front of the steamy mirror, his boxers drooping around his scrawny middle, face festooned with frothy lather that had come from the bar of soap resting on the side of the sink. 'I do hope you're not planning to shave with that,' Harry said mildly, indicating the flimsy disposable razor James held in one hand.
'That's the idea,' James mumbled.
Harry winced visibly. He had made the mistake of shaving with something like that when he was James' age. It had not gone well. His face felt like he'd spent three hours on a broom while the wind was blowing. 'Come on,' he said. 'I've got something for you.' He set the basket down in the corridor and led James into his and Ginny's bedroom. Once inside, Harry opened the top bureau drawer and began to rummage in it for the small parcel he'd hidden there a few months ago. He'd been planning on giving it to James before he went back to school. Harry handed it to James, who was wiping the stiff lather off his face. 'Go on, mate. Open it.'
James curiously opened the box, and found a shaving set. 'What's this for?'
Harry thumbed off a smudge of lather from James' cheek. 'Well, if you're going to shave, mate, you ought to do it right.' He propelled James into the bathroom and took the set from his hands. 'I've been waiting to do this since the day you were born,' Harry told James, unpacking the components of the set.
'Really?'
'Well, it's one of those father things,' Harry said with a shrug. 'Like teaching you to ride a broom.'
'Mum did that,' James said with a smirk.
'Yeah, but I taught you the fancy stuff.' Harry nudged a face cloth toward James. 'Here, wash your face with that.' As Harry guided James through the process of using a brush and a cake of shaving soap to lather his face, he suppressed a sigh at the notion that James was quickly growing up and, in no time at all, would finish school. Seems like yesterday he was small enough to sleep in my arms...
'Okay, Dad, now what?' James' face sported a truly magnificent amount of lather.
'Hold the handle of the razor parallel to your face,' Harry said, handing the razor to James. 'And use your arm to move it. Short strokes. Go with the direction the hair grows.' He stood behind James, and laid his hand lightly over James' guiding it down the slope of his cheek. 'Just like that.' He took his hand away from James'. 'Don't press too hard, and do more than one pass.'
'Like this?' James asked, his voice soft with hesitation, moving the razor over his face.
'Yeah, just like that.' Harry leaned against the counter and watched James carefully shave. James had gotten an owl that morning at breakfast. It had made a flush stain his cheeks, and he carefully slid the letter into a pocket of his pajama bottoms. Ginny had given Harry a significant look, which Harry interpreted to mean that James' letter was from a girl. Harry wasn't sure he was ready for James to start receiving post from girls. He knew he wasn't ready for James to start sending letters to girls.
'Dad?'
'Yeah?'
James pointed to his upper lip. 'What do I do?'
Harry pulled his upper lip over his teeth. 'Like that.'
James frowned as he scraped the razor over his upper lip. 'Dad?'
'Yeah...?'
'Um, there's this girl...'
'Oh?' Harry waited for James to continue.
'She's... in...' James trailed off uncomfortably.
'In...?'
James tilted his chin up and painstakingly scraped the lather under his jaw. 'Slytherin,' he mumbled, so quietly Harry couldn't hear it.
'I'm sorry, what did you say?' Harry asked.
James sighed and rinsed the razor. 'Slytherin,' he sighed.
Harry's mouth dropped open. He remembered all the things James had said to Al about being Sorted into Slytherin. 'Seriously?'
'Never mind, Dad.' James wiped his face off and started to stalk out of the bathroom.
'James, wait...' Harry grabbed James' shoulder before he could leave. 'What's she like?'
'Maya? She's the Quidditch announcer. She's taller than Mum. She's cute. I guess.'
'You don't know if she's cute?' Harry grinned. 'I find that hard to believe.'
'She's nice enough to look at.' James shrugged and fiddled with the handle of razor. 'She's not what you'd expect, being in Slytherin and all...'
Harry snorted. 'They never are. You know Andromeda was a Slytherin, don't you?'
James' mouth fell open. 'But she's so nice!'
'Yes, she is,' Harry agreed. 'And one of my best Aurors was in Slytherin.'
'Really?'
'Yeah. I'd trust Kathleen with my life. I have. On more than one occasion.' Harry eyed James, who was shifting from foot to foot. 'So... What's she like?' he repeated.
'She's really smart. Like Aunt Hermione smart. But she's not snobby about it,' James added hastily. 'They have Potions with us, and there's an odd number from each House, so she's my partner in Potions,' he explained. 'Some of her House mates were being gits. Well, more than gits.' James ducked his head, knowing he could be a handful himself. 'She threw a few things into their cauldrons; while Williams had his back turned.' James smiled wistfully. 'Pity the Slytherin captain doesn't like female players, because she'd make a bloody good Chaser.' He shook himself a little and continued. 'She put in just enough of something to make the potion we were brewing went all sticky and blow up in their faces.' James laughed out loud. 'I just don't know what the others would think...'
Harry reached for a small towel and began to wipe the counter. 'Because she's a Slytherin?'
'Sort of. Because she's not in Gryffindor...'
Harry snorted. 'When has that ever mattered?'
James heaved a sigh. 'Granddad and Grandmum were both in Gryffindor. Uncle George and Aunt Katie. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. You and Mum. Your mum and dad.' He scuffed a bare foot on the tiles of the bathroom morosely.
Harry threw the towel into the laundry basket. 'All right. First of all, you're far too young to think about marriage. You don't have to only date Gryffindors. Or even marry one, when you get to that point.' He began to tick off couples on his fingers. 'Teddy's dad was a Gryffindor and his mum was a Hufflepuff. Your aunt Fleur didn't even go to school at Hogwarts. Bronwyn and Penny were both Ravenclaws. Parker, he's a Hufflepuff, and I don't see anybody in the family disowning him.'
James shrugged. 'But none of them were Slytherins, either,' he pointed out.
Harry nudged James out of the bathroom. 'So, are you and Maya friends at all, or just Potions partners?'
'I guess we're friends... We do homework together in the library...'
Harry hid a smile. 'Do you talk at all? About things other than homework.'
'Yeah,' James said with a sense of realization.
'Has she ever given you a reason not to trust her?'
James traced the border of the rug with a toe. He'd told Maya a lot of things about himself over the past couple of months, and never once had he overheard anyone snickering about it in the corridors, or quickly changing the subject when he walked into a room. 'No,' he admitted.
'Then, I don't think you have anything to worry about.' Harry patted James on the shoulder and left the bedroom, retrieving the basket of sheets and went to put them away in the cupboard. Harry turned to James, who was heading into his bedroom. 'Hey, James?'
James came back into the corridor, pulling a t-shirt over his head. 'Yeah?'
'Just try being friends first with her. Before you do anything else,' Harry advised.
'Is that what you told Teddy?' James asked.
'That's exactly what I told Teddy,' Harry assured him. James nodded and seemed satisfied with the answer. Harry carried the basket back down into the scullery. 'If I wasn't ready for him to start shaving, I'm definitely not ready for him to start dating,' he mused.
XxXxXxX
Harry stood huddled in the foggy street, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't like being out in this kind of weather. It was too easy for people to hide in the swirling mist. He felt like there were eyes trained on him, as if there were a large, brightly-colored target glued to his back. Harry glanced uneasily around him, waiting for the Obliviators to finish talking to the Aurors.
He didn't like this at all.
Nor could he shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
'That's it, Potter,' a voice growled quietly. 'Keep looking the other way...' He raised his wand slowly, trying to position himself to get a clear view of Potter. It had been Dolohov's favorite hex, the one he was about to cast. His only regret was that he had to cast it nonverbally. It could do some serious damage even then, though. It would have to do.
The wand drifted even higher, then swished down sharply...
Teddy saw the wand tip in the shrubbery gradually rise before everything slowed down to a crawl. 'Harry! Look out!' he shouted, just before his shoulder rammed into Harry's side, toppling his godfather over. The jagged jet of purple light missed hitting Harry squarely in the center of his back, grazing a shoulder instead.
Teddy staggered under the weight of Harry's body. He laid him on the pavement, his eyes scanning the shrubbery. 'Harry?' Teddy asked tentatively, laying his hand against the side of Harry's throat, feeling slightly reassured as he felt a rapid, yet irregular pulse trip under his fingers. 'Don't worry, Harry, I've got you,' Teddy whispered. 'Somebody help me!' he yelled. Please don't die... Ginny will kill me... You're supposed to see me get married, have children...
Someone was forcing Teddy to his feet. 'Let him go, lad,' Carolina said. 'We can't do anything for him here.' She pulled Teddy back from Harry's still body, directing an Auror to take Harry to St. Mungo's.
'I have to go with him,' panted Teddy, struggling against Carolina's surprisingly strong grip.
'Teddy, be reasonable. You can't Apparate in this state,' Carolina said sternly. 'You'll Splinch yourself.'
Teddy slumped against her grasp. 'I need to go with him,' he said hoarsely.
'I'll take you,' Carolina said.
'Now,' Teddy demanded.
'Now.' Carolina wrapped a hand around Teddy's elbow. She turned and they reappeared outside the visitor's entrance to St. Mungo's.
THIRTY FOUR -- An Object In Motion
Ginny tossed her book to the night table, unable to settle into sleep. She could sleep without Harry, but after sharing a bed for two decades, it felt unnatural to sleep in it alone. She reached for the book, lying on Harry's side of the bed and chuckled quietly, as she read the first few pages. She had never asked Harry about his penchant for Muggle novels with female protagonists who found themselves, usually through no fault of their own, in some sort of horribly messy problem. Ginny privately thought Harry identified with them a little, in that they sometimes plummeted to the depths of despair before finding a way to claw themselves back up. Every so often, over the years, she had read the ones he returned to most often. She understood why he turned to them over and over -- they always ended well.
She laid the book down with a sigh, and slid out of bed, picking up her dressing gown, and pulling it on as she walked to the door. Ginny pushed the door open, and smiled at the light under the crack of James' door. She tiptoed to the door, and knocked softly. 'Come in...' James said distractedly.
'It's late, Jemmy,' Ginny told him.
James grimaced a little at the nickname. 'Mum, I'm almost fifteen...' he groaned.
'And no matter how old you get, you will still be Jemmy, sweetie,' Ginny said.
'Whatever,' James sighed. He glanced at the small alarm clock, dark brows rising in surprise at the time. It was nearly midnight. 'One more chapter?'
Ginny ran a hand over James' thick, dark hair. 'One more chapter,' she agreed. 'Then go to sleep, all right?'
'All right.'
'Good night, James.'
'Night, Mum.'
Ginny left James' bedroom, and crossed to Albus' in a familiar pattern. Albus' door was slightly ajar. She peered into the darkened room, finding Al to be sound asleep, one hand hanging off the edge of the mattress. Ginny slipped into the room, and gently laid the hand back onto the bed and straightened the bedding over him. He stirred at the intrusion, but didn't wake. She left his bedroom, and went to Lily's.
A small lamp cast a dim glow over the bedroom, making the fanciful paintings on the walls seem real. Lily slept with a piece of parchment clutched in her hand. An owl had arrived from France that morning, bearing letters for Al, Rose, and Lily. Lily had immediately written back, running into the village after lunch to post the reply to Scorpius. Ginny slowly tugged the parchment from Lily's hand and smoothed the wrinkles from it. She put it on the night table and switched the lamp off before she left Lily to her dreams.
Still feeling restless, Ginny went down into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
Teddy stumbled into waiting area, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering aroma of disinfectant. 'God, that stinks,' he mumbled, Carolina still holding him upright.
'What does, Teddy?'
'What ever they use the clean the floors...' he muttered.
Carolina sniffed experimentally. 'I don't smell anything...' She helped him into a chair, before heading to a fireplace to contact Shacklebolt. Carolina threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames, and knelt to put her head into them. Closing her eyes against the swirling images, she waited a moment, then cracked her eyes open. The comfortable sitting room of Shacklebolt's flat came into view. 'Kingsley!' There was no answer. 'Kingsley!' Carolina shouted.
Shacklebolt stumbled into the sitting room, rubbing his face, dressed in what appeared to be a hastily-donned dressing gown. 'What?' he snapped irritably.
'It's Harry,' Carolina said simply.
Shacklebolt squatted next to the fireplace. 'What happened?' he asked, suddenly alert.
'I don't know. Some spell came out of nowhere and got him in the back.'
'What kind of spell?'
Carolina ground her teeth in frustration. 'I don't know,' she said coldly. 'I'm not a bloody Auror.'
'Sorry... Where is he?'
'St. Mungo's. I don't know what floor, or what room.'
Shacklebolt ran a hand over his bald head. 'I'll be there straightaway. Give me a minute to put something on.'
Carolina pulled her head out of the fireplace and slumped into a nearby chair.
Teddy was huddled in his chair, his hands fisted in his hair. He was more confused now than he had ever been in his whole life. He'd been noticing small changes about himself. He could smell things others didn't notice. He could see and hear things that the others couldn't. But only under times of stress. And Teddy was under a nearly unbearable amount of strain at the present moment.
The harsh scent of disinfectant mixed with Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover made him nauseous. People's voices sounded unnaturally loud, and even the muted light in the waiting area made his eyes hurt. He leaned forward until his head rested on his knees, breathing in short, shallow, pants.
'Teddy?' The normally melodious voice grated in his ears.
'Vic...' he croaked.
Victoire had been on one of her assigned nights at the hospital, for her practical studies class. She heard the commotion in the corridor and dashed to the waiting area, unaware of who was in the now-heavily guarded room. She began pulling at Teddy's hands, trying to examine him. 'Are you hurt?' she asked anxiously.
'Geroff, Victoire!' Teddy nearly shouted, wincing as his voice ricocheted off the walls and floor. 'I'm not one of your bloody practical exams!' he yelled.
Stung, Victoire straightened and stepped back. 'Fine,' she said tightly, fingers toying with the ring she wore on a chain at the hospital, lest it become damaged from the time she spent brewing potions in the stillroom.
Teddy buried his face in his hands. 'It's Harry,' he said hoarsely. 'He's down there...' Teddy pointed to the corridor from which Victoire had come.
'I'll go see if there's anything they can tell me,' she said in the smoothly bland, professional tone they were taught to employ in such situations.
Shacklebolt strode into the waiting area, and made a beeline for Carolina. 'Did anyone see it?'
'Teddy might have,' Carolina replied tiredly. 'He's the one that knocked him out of the way.' Carolina shook her head. 'We didn't have time to ask him anything.'
Shacklebolt crossed to Teddy and dropped into the vacant chair next to him. 'Teddy, what happened?'
Teddy shivered and shook his head. 'Saw a wand in the shrubbery. And a jagged purple jet of light heading toward him.'
'Did you hear an incantation?' Shacklebolt asked intently.
'No.' Teddy wracked his memory, shaking his head even harder. 'No. I didn't hear anything, except the rustle of the leaves.'
'Where did it hit him?' Shacklebolt gripped Teddy's arm in a vice-like grip.
Teddy swallowed, seeing the light slam into Harry's shoulder. 'Shoulder blade. Left side.' He squinted, as if he could see it replay in front of him. 'Up high though. He went out dead cold instantly...' Teddy's chin trembled and he viciously bit his lip to quell it. 'If I'd been a second sooner,' he whispered, 'I could have gotten him out of the way.' He stared sightlessly at the wall, his hands clenched into fists.
'Right.' Shacklebolt got to his feet, beckoning to Carolina. 'Right. That sounds like the spell Dolohov liked to use when he was alive.' He massaged his temples. 'Bloody fortunate whoever cast it had to do it nonverbally. If he'd been able to speak it, no matter that it didn't get a direct hit, Harry would be as good as dead right now.'
Carolina wound her hair into a knot and jabbed her wand at it, using a weak Sticking charm to hold it into place. 'Someone needs to go tell Ginny,' she said softly.
'Yeah.' Shacklebolt sighed. 'I'll go tell Ginny right now. She'll... She'll take it better from me.' He strode toward an Apparition point, not quite sure how to tell Ginny that Harry lay unconscious in a hospital bed, and still be standing when he was done.
Ginny perched on one of the kitchen windowsills with a cup of tea and a handful of biscuits. She sighed ruefully, knowing the anxious nibbling she did when Harry was out like this was going to catch up with her sooner rather than later. The loud crack of someone Apparating made Ginny glance out the window. Must be Harry, she mused. At least he's home at a decent hour and not crawling into bed at four in the morning. Ginny slid off the windowsill and padded to the door, opening it intending to greet Harry properly. 'Kingsley!' she said, attempting to cover her surprise and disappointment. 'Come in.' Ginny stepped back and held the door open, allowing Shacklebolt to enter the kitchen. 'Would you like some tea?'
Shacklebolt shook his head. 'Not right now.' He took a deep breath. 'Ginny... Harry's been... There was an attack while he was investigating the Muggle-baiting...'
Ginny felt the blood begin to roar in her ears. 'What are you saying?' she asked numbly.
'He's at St. Mungo's. And he's unconscious right now. We don't really know very much.'
The cup slid from Ginny's nerveless fingers and crashed to the floor, splattering tea and china over the floor. She said nothing, but her face paled until the freckles scattered over her cheeks and nose stood out in stark relief against her skin. Shacklebolt frowned at the amount of broken china on the floor next to Ginny's bare feet and waved his wand, sending the cup flying to the counter as it repaired itself.
That seemed to jostle Ginny into action. She backed away a few steps, muttering, 'I'll just go upstairs and change, then...' She turned and walked quickly out of the kitchen, her steps rapidly gathering speed until she all but ran up the stairs. She stopped just at the top of the stairs, her hand clenched around the banister, swaying with the effort to stay upright. Come on, Weasley, she scolded herself. Keep it together. Ginny turned into her bedroom, and grabbed a pair of jeans that were on top of the laundry basket, shedding her dressing gown and nightdress into a heap on the floor. Ginny yanked the jeans on, while she rummaged in the wardrobe for a shirt. She hastily pulled it on over her head and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers without bothering to find a pair of socks.
Ginny got halfway back down the stairs, when she whirled around and stumbled to James' door. She knocked softly, her heart hammering in her chest. 'James? Are you still awake?' Please be awake, Jemmy...
James opened his bedroom door, his brows creasing in confusion when he saw Ginny standing outside. 'All right, Mum?'
'I need you to keep an eye on your brother and sister tonight,' she told him, shakily.
'What's wrong?'
'I don't really know,' she said, fishing an elastic out of the pocket of her crumpled jeans, and pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. 'It's your father...' Ginny glanced at James, suddenly aware that she had to look up at him. God, when did he grow up so much? 'I'll be back in the morning. Do not worry Al or Lily,' she said sternly.
'No, Mum.' James shook his head.
Ginny leaned forward and hugged him. 'It'll be all right,' she assured him. 'Try and get some sleep.' She released James and ran down the stairs into the kitchen. 'All right, let's go,' she said to Shacklebolt.
Ginny stood outside Harry's hospital room, her arms folded tightly over her chest, leaning against the wall. 'So what you're telling me,' she began, 'is that you and the others don't know why he's not awake yet?'
The Healer gave her an embarrassed sort of shrug. 'I suppose.' He straightened his sleeves nervously. 'We're giving him the potions he needs to recover intravenously, and we'd like to wait and see if he wakes up on his own within a few days.'
'Fine...' Ginny had only half-heard what the Healer had been telling her. She pushed the door open and resumed her post at the side of his bed. A soft beeping sound chimed in the background with a measured regularity. Ginny found that her breathing would synchronize with the pace of Harry's pulse. In on two, out on four... It was mesmerizing. She didn't watch the numbers on the glowing panel above the bed -- she watched Harry.
'Mrs. Potter?'
Another voice, another Healer. Ginny looked up into the face of one of the younger Healers. 'Yes?' she murmured.
The young woman held out a small, sealed paper envelope. 'His things. I thought you'd want to take them home.'
'Thank you.' Ginny accepted the envelope that she knew held only four things: his wand, his wallet, his watch, and his wedding ring.
'Mrs. Potter?' The woman spoke a little uncertainly. 'There's a young man out there... One of the Obliviators that came in with him.'
Ginny straightened. 'An Obliviator?'
'Says he's your godson?'
Ginny rubbed her hands over her face. 'Godric, I didn't even know he was here...' Ginny hadn't had eyes for anything in the waiting area, save for the door that led to the corridor and Harry's room. 'Please, let him in. He can come in any time he wants.' She ripped open the envelope as the Healer left, putting Harry's wand, wallet, and watch inside her bag. She tipped the envelope into the palm of her hand, and the slender band of his ring slid into her hand. Ginny held the ring up, tilting it toward the dim light on the table next to the bed. The words were still engraved inside, albeit slightly worn. 'Faith, hope, love,' she murmured, before slipping the ring onto her thumb.
'Ginny?' Teddy flinched at the child-like sound of his voice. He stood in the half-open door. 'I'm sorry...' His voice cracked and he stared at the floor. 'It was my fault.'
'Oh, Teddy, it wasn't.'
Teddy sidled into the room, and closed the door. He leaned against the wall and gazed at Harry, lying in the bed. 'It was. I saw the wand over his shoulder, and I just wasn't fast enough,' he rasped.
Ginny shook her head. 'Teddy, if it wasn't for you, he would be so much worse.'
'I... I don't...' Teddy's eyes squeezed shut and he darted out of the room.
'Teddy...!' Ginny pulled the door open, and peered down the corridor, but Teddy was already gone.
Ginny let her head rest on the bed next to Harry's shoulder and closed her burning eyes. She had spent the night staring alternately at Harry or at the numbers on the wall, refusing to sleep. Her hand rested on top of his still one, fingers curled around it.
'Mum?'
Ginny's eyes flew open. 'James! What are you doing here?' She sat up, pushing her hair from her face.
James' eyes were wide in his thin face. 'I Flooed over... Grandmum and Grandad came and took us to the Burrow earlier this morning,' he stammered. 'Please, Mum, let me stay a bit?'
'Does your grandmother know you're here?' Ginny demanded.
'Grandad does...' James admitted.
'Oh, Merlin's holey jumper,' Ginny breathed. 'It's your head,' she said pointedly, drawing out her wand and conjuring a comfortable chair for her son.
James folded his lanky frame into it, his knees against his chest, chin resting on them. 'How is he?'
'Stable,' Ginny replied. 'They've got about twenty potions going through that tube into his arm.' She indicated the thin tube Spellotaped to the inside of Harry's right arm.
James' eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'Is he breathing?'
'Of course he is,' Ginny scoffed. But her eyes flicked to Harry's chest, just to reassure herself that it still rose and fell, in spite of the monitor cuff strapped to his left wrist that monitored his vital signs.
'I remember when I had dragon pox,' James said suddenly.
'You do?'
'Well, some,' he allowed. 'But I remember waking up once, and it was dark, but Dad was sitting next to my bed.' James looked up at the ceiling, and rubbed his nose. 'Dusty in here,' he said hoarsely.
'Of course it is,' Ginny said, tactfully looking away. The room was antiseptically clean.
'How can you do this?' James asked. 'Just sit and wait...'
Ginny smiled a little. 'Not the first time.' Her hand reached up and smoothed the hair from Harry's face. 'After the second battle at Hogwarts, he slipped out of the Great Hall, and went up to his dormitory to sleep. I found him, collapsed across his bed, still dressed, completely filthy from the battle. He hadn't even gotten under the bedding.' Ginny's fingers traced over the scar. She hardly noticed it anymore. 'I stayed up, and watched him. For almost two days.'
'Was he ill?' James glanced at her.
Ginny sighed and sat back in her chair. 'I'd be lying if I said "no",' she told James reluctantly. 'It was a lot of things. He'd been hiding from Death Eaters for most of the past year. He didn't sleep much, because he dreamed about Riddle,' Ginny explained. It wasn't quite the truth, but she didn't want to get into all the psychic connections between Harry and Riddle right now.
'Like Divination?' James snorted skeptically.
'There's a good lad,' Ginny murmured approvingly of her son's skepticism. 'A little, but not quite.' She shifted in the chair. 'He was just worn out -- physically, emotionally... You have to remember, he wasn't much older than you at the time,' she added. 'He was only seventeen.'
James sat quietly for a long time. 'Is that why he goes all funny and quiet at the beginning of May?'
Startled, Ginny's head swiveled to stare at James. 'What do you mean?' she asked carefully.
James shrugged. 'Oh, just that before I went to school, at the beginning of May, he and Uncle George both sort of get really quiet and don't talk much. Uncle George more than Dad, but they're not themselves for a bit.' James paused. 'Or they aren't for a few days around then.' He traced a pattern in the tile with the toe of his shoe. 'You all do that,' he said softly. 'Just not to that extent.'
'I didn't realize,' Ginny murmured.
James hitched a shoulder. 'I found a few accounts of it in the library at school,' he confessed. 'Professor McGonagall told me where to find them,' he gulped. 'I can't say I blame you...'
Ginny nodded. 'I suppose.' She nudged James. 'You ought to get back to the Burrow. Mum will have a litter of kittens if you're gone too long.'
'Okay.' James reached over and quickly hugged Ginny.
'Tell her she can bring Al and Lils later. If she doesn't think this will upset them.'
'I think they'd be more upset at being kept away,' James said solemnly. 'But I'll tell her.' He started to open the door.
'James?'
'Yeah?'
'Thank you.'
James ducked his head bashfully, and slipped out of the room. Ginny grinned at Harry. 'How much do you want to bet he left a note on the kitchen table and Flooed over without asking?' She put her head back on the bed next to Harry. 'He gets it from you.'
Teddy looked up and realized he was in Regent's Park. It was early, but the park was open. He had no memory of walking here from the visitor's entrance of St. Mungo's. He supposed he must have wandered aimlessly in the night, not paying attention to where he was going until the rising sun bathed his face in bright warmth.
He sank onto the edge of a fountain and sightlessly watched the people stroll by in the early summer morning. As much as he loved his parents, they had never seemed quite real to him. For all intents and purposes to Teddy, Remus Lupin would always be his father -- he couldn't deny it when his father's eyes looked back at him from the mirror every morning -- but Harry was his dad, if anyone had ever asked Teddy. It wasn't something he had told anyone as outright fact. Not even Victoire. He suspected Harry and Ginny might know how he felt, given that he had alluded to it once in a fit of adolescent guilt, but neither of them had confronted him with it, just merely acknowledging it in that unspoken way of theirs.
Teddy felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Ginny alone. He couldn't stay there, watching Harry just lie there, like she had. Teddy buried his face in his hands.
He had already lost one father.
He couldn't face the prospect of losing another.
Painfully, he got to his feet and trudged toward the closest Tube station. He was too tired to try and find a place to Disapparate. Teddy sat numbly on the train as it carried him toward Soho, wrapped in misery so acute he reckoned people could feel it dripping off him like rain. The train stopped at his station and he automatically got up and followed the queue of people up the stairs to the street level. He climbed the five flights of stairs to his flat, feeling every last second of the previous night cling to his feet, weighing him down. Teddy opened the door with his seldom-used key, unable to muster the will to use his wand as he usually did, and kicked his trainers off, heading straight for his bedroom, and crawled into bed, pulling the bedding over his head to block out the rest of the world.
His shoulders began to shake, and finally, Teddy allowed himself to weep. He rolled over to his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, sobbing as if he were a small child.
In a few minutes, Teddy managed to collect himself enough to realize the pillowcase was soaked. He shifted to the other side of the bed, and wrapped his arms around the pillow there, sniffling, as tears still fell slowly down his cheeks.
'Teddy...?'
Teddy pulled the bedding away from his head, and squinted through his swollen eyelids. Victoire stood in the doorway, nervously twisting her fingers together. 'How long have you been there?' he mumbled.
'Long enough.' Victoire warily approached the bed. 'I can get you a Sleeping Draught if you want one...'
Teddy shook his head. 'No.' He gnawed his lip for a moment, before folding the bedding back in mute invitation. 'Please?' Victoire hesitantly slid into the bed next to Teddy. He immediately spooned against her, still sniffing a little. 'Do you know anything?' he asked her.
'A little. I'm not working on the case, but one of my friends is. He's stable and his pulse is normal now. Just unconscious.'
'How long?'
'Don't know...'
Teddy laced his fingers through Victoire's. 'I'm sorry... For shouting at you...'
'No worries, all right?' Victoire reached back and patted Teddy's thigh. 'Go to sleep, then.'
Teddy shifted a few times, then fell asleep with a deep sigh.
Harry sat up, groaning as his left shoulder screamed in protest at being moved. 'When did I fall?' he grumbled, his eyes still closed. 'Gin?' Harry's eyes fluttered open. He patted the table, looking for his glasses. Unable to find them immediately, he rubbed his eyes, then opened them. The room swam into focus, making Harry pat his face, jerking in surprise when he realized his glasses weren't there. 'What the...?' He turned in the bed, taking in the room. It was eerily similar to the one he and Ginny had stayed in when Al was born. 'Ginny?' he called, not a little frantically.
'Even I never approved of hexing someone in the back,' a cold voice sneered from behind Harry.
Harry froze. He hadn't heard that voice in nearly twenty years. 'It can't be,' he said. 'I must be dreaming.'
'Astute as ever, I see.'
Harry whirled around to come face-to-face with Severus Snape. 'Oh, bloody hell,' he growled. 'Am I in hell?'
'I could ask myself that same question, Potter...' Snape leaned against the wall with an air of casualness he had never adopted in life. 'But no, you're not dead. Yet.'
'Hallucinating, then? I told Gin not to put those mushrooms in the spaghetti sauce...' A hard slap smacked against the back of Harry's head. 'Oi! What did you do that for?' he asked sullenly, rubbing the back of his head.
'To assure you I am not a hallucination,' Snape drawled dryly.
'Is this like when Riddle 'killed' me?'
'Partially.' Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Harry moaned theatrically, 'Bloody hell... Why you? Of all the people I could see now, why are you the one I see?' He threw himself back on the bed, annoyed that in a space of fewer than five minutes, Snape had made him feel like a thirteen-year old again. 'Godric's sagging...'
'I would have thought the answer to what's been bothering you would be apparent to you, but still, you lack the subtlety to appreciate what they're doing.' Snape examined his nails, buffing them on the sleeve of his robes. 'They'll make anyone Head Auror these days, it would seem.'
Harry stared at Snape open-mouthed. 'What do you mean that it would be apparent to me?'
Snape sniffed derisively. 'Use your memories, Potter,' he said, before he disappeared in a swirl of fog.
Normally, I leave out chocolate for emotional chapters, and I forgot initially, until Steph fussed at me. My 'ears' are still ringing.' lol!
So please forgive my thoughtlessness, and have some Hershey Kisses. Take as many as you want. They're virtual and won't do any of those things your dentist and/or doctor have warned you about...
THIRTY FIVE -- Stays In Motion
James tumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow, pulling up short when a small, plump figure waved a scrap of parchment under his nose. 'What. Is. This?'
'Grandmum...' he said weakly.
'You've been gone for over an hour, James Sirius!' Molly shouted. 'What have you been doing? I was worried sick about you!'
'I wanted to see Dad!' James yelled.
Molly stiffened visibly. 'All you had to do was ask,' she said, managing to throttle her voice down to something slightly less than earthshaking. She pointed to the stairs. 'Go upstairs,' she ordered. 'I'll deal with you later.'
'Fine,' James growled sullenly, dodging around Molly and stomping up the stairs to the attic. He yanked the door open, and threw himself on the old bed. 'Go away,' he replied to the tentative knock on the door.
The door opened in blithe disregard to his wishes. 'What did you do?' Al asked curiously.
'Nothing,' James huffed, turning over on his stomach. 'Leave me alone, all right?' He felt the bed sink under the weight of Al's body. 'I said leave me alone...'
'Where're Mum and Dad? And why did Grandmum and Granddad come fetch us over here?'
James opened his mouth, but remembered his promise to Ginny to not worry Al or Lily. 'Dad got hurt last night,' he said. 'But he's okay. Mum went to go wait until they let him come home.' James rubbed his face in the pillow. He figured telling Al a half-truth was better than outright lying to him.
'Oh.' James didn't see the doubtful expression flit over Al's face. 'How long will they be gone?'
James sighed. 'I don't know. A day or two, I suppose.' He rolled over on his back and flung an arm over his eyes. 'Could you really leave me alone now?' he asked edgily. 'Didn't sleep much last night and I could use a kip.'
'All right,' Al sighed. He slid off the bed, making the springs screech in protest.
'Don't say anything to Lily,' James said suddenly.
Al snorted, rather like Ginny. 'What do I look like? An eejit?'
'What time of day is it?' James retorted with a smirk.
'I won't say anything,' Al promised. He left the attic, leaving James alone with the images of Harry lying in the hospital bed, face ashen and drawn, while a blue potion dripped into his arm. James curled on his side, his arms wrapped around his knees, desperately wishing for the old, mangy, stuffed black dog he'd had as a small child. It was in a drawer in his room at home, and James hadn't thought about it in ages, but at this moment, he could feel the nubby fur on one of the ears where he had worried off all the plush fur, rubbing it between his thumb and first two fingers. His thumb unconsciously began to rub slowly across the tips of his middle and index fingers, in a rhythm he found oddly comforting, as his heavy eyelids shut.
The next thing he knew, someone was gently shaking him awake. James pried open his eyelids to find Arthur standing over him. 'We're going to the hospital to see your dad in a bit,' he said.
James nodded groggily and struggled to sit up. 'Okay,' he mumbled. He trudged down the stairs after Arthur, and stood next to Lily, unable to meet Molly's eyes. He'd never yelled at her before. It had felt decidedly wrong to speak to her in that way. He mutely took a handful of powder from the flowerpot Molly held out to him, his eyes fixed on his shoes.
Before he could throw the powder into the flames, Molly's hand lightly landed on his elbow. 'James, honey...' James looked down at his grandmother. 'It's all right.' He nodded and Molly released him. He threw the powder in the flames and said firmly, 'St. Mungo's.'
Ginny pushed the sandwich away with a grimace of distaste. It was dry and tasteless. 'The food hasn't improved at all,' she said wryly. 'You are so taking me out for a nice dinner when you get out of here.' She paused, sweeping the sandwich off the table and into the rubbish bin. 'In Paris.' Ginny waited expectantly for Harry to mutter something about the expense of going to Paris for an evening, like he normally would, but the only answer she received was the soft beeping of his pulse on the monitor panel.
The door opened, and Ginny turned to see Arthur come into the room. 'Your mum has the children in the waiting area.'
Ginny stood up, and ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it down, in a futile attempt to not look so fretful. 'Did James tell them anything?' she asked anxiously.
Arthur looked at her askance. 'What do you mean did James tell them anything?'
'He was here earlier...' Ginny replied, trailing off.
'He did say something to me this morning about wanting to come see Harry,' Arthur said.
'So he did sneak out, the little bugger.' She shook her head.
'Well, that explains it,' Arthur mused. 'I was wondering why he wasn't talking to Molly. She must have caught him sneaking back home.'
'Brilliant,' Ginny muttered, rubbing her temples. 'One more thing to the list...' She strode into the corridor and pushed open the doors that led to the sitting area, making a conscious effort to smooth her features into something more pleasant. James slouched in a chair, his expression inscrutable. Ginny made a mental note to speak to James later. Al sat huddled in the chair next to him, frowning at her. Lily perched between James and Al, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
'Mum!' Lily slid off the hard chair and nearly ran across the waiting area. Her arms wound around Ginny's waist.
'Hiya, sweetie,' Ginny murmured, stroking Lily's hair. 'Are you being good for Grandmum?'
'Of course,' Lily sniffed disdainfully.
'That's good.' Ginny led Lily back to her brothers. 'I'll take you back one at a time,' Ginny told them. 'But I need to explain a few things to you.' She took Lily's hand in her cold one, and squeezed it reassuringly. 'He's...' Ginny hesitated. 'He's sleeping. And they have a tube in his arm. You'll be able to hear his heartbeat because of a charm. But he's going to be just fine,' she said firmly.
Al threw a confused glance at James. Why didn't he tell me this? I'm not some ickle firstie who can't handle the truth...
'Who wants to go first?' Ginny asked with forced cheerfulness. James looked away pointedly, and Al shook his head. 'Lily?'
Lily chewed her lip, then nodded a little uncertainly, clutching Ginny's hand, and they disappeared behind the swinging doors.
'Why did you lie to me?' Al hissed.
James shifted in his chair, slouching even further. 'I didn't lie,' he insisted.
'You didn't tell me it was this bad!' Al said, louder.
James stared at his interlaced fingers. 'I promised Mum...'
'How bad it is?' Al persisted. 'The truth...'
James licked his lips, suddenly gone dry. 'I'm not sure,' he admitted. 'But it looks pretty scary. A lot scarier than what Mum says,' he added.
Al wound a finger through the laces of his trainers. He recalled what his parents had told him nearly two years ago. 'But Dad's been through a lot worse,' he argued. 'This ought to be nothing.'
James closed his eyes against Al's determination. 'Yeah. I hope you're right.'
Harry stared where Snape had been. 'What do you mean it's in my memories?' he shouted. 'What's in my memories?' Harry threw the blanket aside and swung his feet to the floor. 'This is ridiculous,' he muttered, heading for the door.
'Nice arse,' said a sardonic voice.
Harry clutched the back of the hospital gown he wore, closing the gap over his bare bottom. 'Sirius?' He looked over his shoulder at the lean man lounging on the windowsill.
'He's right, you know,' Sirius commented. 'All your answers are in your memory. You just need to find it.'
'What is that supposed to mean?' Harry ground out. 'First Snape, then you...'
'Look, Harry, you're a smart kid. You always have been. You've got the best instincts.'
'I've got a lot of things on my mind right now,' Harry retorted. 'If you could narrow things down a bit more?'
'Nope. Sorry. Doesn't work that way.' Sirius tossed his long hair out of his eyes. 'You have to figure it out yourself.'
'Fat lot of good this... Dream, hallucination -- whatever the bloody hell it is -- does me,' Harry huffed. 'Wanker,' he muttered.
'Does more than you think,' Sirius snorted. 'Just you wait.' He pushed himself off the windowsill. 'And don't think because you're grown you can call your godfather names like that. Even if I am dead.'
Lily stood next to Harry's bed, her hand hovering over his. 'You can touch him, Lils,' Ginny said encouragingly.
Lily's head tilted to the side as she examined Harry. She sidled to the other side, and traced the tube in his arm with a questing forefinger. The potion that slid through the clear tube was bright orange. 'What's that for?'
'The orange one helps heal the gash in his shoulder from the spell that hit him,' Ginny explained. 'There's a blue one that helps keep his heartbeat regulated.' When Lily's face clouded with confusion. 'It keeps it at a normal rate. See?' Ginny pointed to the panel where a gold light flashed in time with the sound of Harry's pulse. 'In a few days, he can stop taking it. They have to give it to him every couple of hours, or his heartbeat skips a beat, or slows down...' Ginny clamped her lips shut. Lily's eyes were growing round in alarm. 'He's going to be fine,' Ginny said.
'When is he going to wake up?' Lily asked worriedly.
'Soon, sweetie,' Ginny said with more confidence than she felt.
Teddy rubbed his face against something soft that didn't feel like his pillowcase. He unglued his eyelids and blinked until he could see properly. Victoire was sprawled across the bed, her unbound hair draped over his pillow and hers. Teddy carefully pulled his arm from under Victoire's head, so as not to wake her, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He slid from the bed, and shuffled into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and taking out a carton of orange juice. He twisted off the cap and chugged several swallows straight from the carton. Teddy lowered the carton with an explosive gasp, and replaced it in the refrigerator. He climbed through the window and fell into the chair on the balcony, propping his feet on the edge of railing.
Teddy stared up into the late afternoon sky, watching the low grey clouds scuttle across the horizon. He sniffed experimentally, tasting rain in the back of his throat. He found he didn't mind the prospect of a dreary, rainy London evening. It suited his mood.
Another scent drifted toward him from the flat. It was Victoire. She smelled like herbs from the stillroom at the hospital, with the undertone of disinfectant and cleanser. Underneath that was the heady scent of Victoire herself. Teddy's eyes closed and he slowly inhaled, drinking in the aromas surrounding him. He heard the soft rustle of clothing against a moving body, and turned his head toward the window. Victoire was moving through the kitchen toward him.
'Been awake long?' she asked, climbing through the window.
'A bit,' Teddy allowed.
Victoire settled into the other chair and Summoned a hairbrush. She began to work the snarls from her hair. 'How are you?' she asked, working the snarls from her hair.
'Scared,' Teddy admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. He drew in a deep breath. 'I ran out on Ginny,' he added. 'The one time I can do something for her, I run out like a terrified little boy.'
Victoire concentrated on a particularly stubborn knot. 'How did it happen?'
Teddy reached over and plucked the brush from her hand, and scooted his chair closer to hers. He spread Victoire's long hair over her back, and began to gently tease the knot from her hair. 'I don't really know. Well, I do, but I'm not sure how I'm the only one who saw it,' he said slowly. 'We were cleaning up after a Muggle-baiting, and he was standing off to one side, waiting for the preliminary investigation to finish up, and I heard something. Like when we've played with the little ones and they hide in the flutterby bush?' Victoire nodded. 'I turned around and all of a sudden, I could see everything. Even through all the fog, I could see.' Teddy's hand slowed in its motions as it drew the hairbrush through Victoire's hair. 'I saw this wand in the shrubbery and it was aiming at Harry's back. So, I tried to knock him out of the way, and I didn't get to him in time.' Teddy's fingers tightened around the handle of the brush.
'Teddy, you probably saved his life,' Victoire said quietly. 'That hex is rather nasty if it makes a direct hit over the heart. It's pretty bad if it hits a major organ. As it is, the curse didn't hit anything important. Because of you,' she pointed out. 'He's got a deep gash in his shoulder from the spell, and they've been giving him potions to fix that, as well as Blood-Replenishing potions. He'd lost an awful lot of blood by the time they got him to St. Mungo's. Dark magic injuries are a lot harder to heal, so it'll take a while for the shoulder to mend. It will probably leave a scar, and he might have lingering issues with it.'
'Issues?' Teddy asked. He felt his breathing slow to something less panicked as he brushed Victoire's hair, finding the motions soothing.
'Nothing major,' Victoire said quickly. 'Like residual pain, some limited range of motion. Minor things, really.'
'That doesn't sound minor,' Teddy retorted.
'He's not going to be an invalid,' Victoire assured him. 'And those things will go away in time. He'll have to take potions for the damage to his nerves, muscles, and skin for several weeks.'
'What else?' Teddy persisted.
'They have to give him a potion to keep his pulse regulated for now. The curse makes the heartbeat irregular or too slow. But the potions should fix that by the end of the week.'
'Is that all?'
Victoire shook her head. 'Not quite. I told you he was unconscious, but he should have come round by now. That's what's worrying right now. They're giving him something to try and get him to come out of it.' She glanced down at her watch. 'Although, that was hours ago, and Uncle Harry may have woken up by now.'
Teddy gasped. 'You missed your class today!'
'It's fine,' she assured him. 'The Healer who teaches the spell damage class was working on Uncle Harry, so she cancelled it.' Victoire looked over her shoulder at Teddy. He was intent on watching the shimmering strands of hair as he brushed it. 'How long have you been able to see like that?' she asked, after a long pause.
'A while,' Teddy said reluctantly. 'A couple of months.'
'All the time?'
Teddy shook his head. 'No. Just when I'm under a lot of stress.'
'Is it just hearing and sight?' Victoire had an idea of what was going on with Teddy; she just wanted to make sure she was right.
'Smell, too. Like I could smell the stuff they use to clean the floors in the waiting area. Nearly made me sick.' He set the brush down on the windowsill and turned Victoire's chair around. 'I think I might end up like Dad...'
'There's only one way to become a werewolf, love, and that's by being bitten by one during the full moon,' Victoire chided. 'Third year Defense class.'
'Werewolves don't have children,' Teddy said stubbornly. 'We don't know.' He remembered reading his father's journal during the period where he'd left his mother. Remus' customary neat copperplate hand had degenerated into an angular scrawl, as he confessed his fears of what could happen to his unborn child.
Victoire fixed Teddy with a stern look. 'Do you have violent tendencies at the full moon?' she asked.
'No.'
'Do you feel the need to eat nearly raw beef for meals?'
'No. I've seen your dad do that and it's kind of gross...' Teddy's face scrunched in distaste.
'Yeah, try growing up with it,' Victoire snorted. 'Look, I'm not saying that you won't have tendencies, like enhanced senses, but you're not a werewolf.' When Teddy's doubtful expression didn't clear, she sighed. 'I can take you to the hospital with me tomorrow, and I can test you, but I suspect you were probably tested as a baby.'
'Why would you think something like that?'
'I was,' Victoire said bluntly. 'Mum and Dad were worried about it when I was born, since he was mauled by Fenrir Greyback less than two months before they were married.' She got up and climbed through the window into the kitchen and returned in a moment with two bottles of butterbeer and handed one to Teddy. She pried the cork from her own bottle and took a sip. 'This might be something you've always had, and you just didn't notice, because you've never been under this amount of stress before.'
'I suppose...' Teddy copied Victoire's actions and took a long swallow of his butterbeer. She might have been right. He had always been able to see in the dark better than the others, and hear sounds that others didn't notice. It was one of the ways he had managed to sneak around Hogwarts after curfew. The one time he had been caught, was after he and Victoire had been on top of the Astronomy Tower, right after they had started dating. He supposed he'd been a bit distracted that night. 'It got a bit overwhelming last night.'
'I can imagine.' Victoire nudged Teddy. 'So, are you going back later?'
Teddy picked at the bottle's label with a fingernail. 'Yeah...' The label began to peel off. 'Yeah, I am.'
Al followed Ginny down the corridor, tucking his hands under his folded arms. It was chilly in the hospital, and Al wasn't willing to risk violating the Decree for Underage Magic just to cast a Warming charm over his hands. He walked through the door Ginny held open for him, frowning at his mother. 'You look like hell,' he said.
'Thanks,' Ginny told him.
Al stood next to the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was worse than what James had described. James hadn't mentioned the smell. Al knew from the few times he'd been in the hospital wing at school that medicinal potions didn't taste very good, and they had a scent to match. Three bottles hung from a rack, dispensing evil-looking purple potions into Harry's arm. The odor from them made his nostrils twitch. He swallowed heavily, trying not to gag. Ginny noticed Al's pinched face. 'You get used to the smell,' she said lightly. Al gave her an incredulous look. 'I got hit in the head with a Bludger my third year with the Harpies. Spent three days here,' Ginny explained. 'When I woke up, I thought the smell was going to make me ill. After a while, I didn't notice it anymore.'
Al rubbed his hand under his nose. 'Don't see how...' He took a few steps toward the bed. 'Is Dad going to be all right?'
'Of course he is,' Ginny replied.
Al's eyes narrowed. He had heard the tension under the calm assurance under his mother's voice. 'Truthfully?'
'Would your mother lie to you?' Ginny retorted.
'Yes,' Al said promptly. 'If you thought it was for my own good,' he muttered.
Ginny dropped into a chair next to the bed, and rolled her shoulders, in a futile attempt to loosen them. 'All right,' she said. 'Physically, he's fine. Well, he's getting better. But he's still unconscious.'
Al threw a glance toward Ginny. 'When will he wake up?'
'Soon...'
Harry shook his head irritably. He kept hearing voices, buzzing in the back of his head. His left hand rubbed the intermittent burning sensation just under the crook of his elbow on his right arm. The movement jostled his sore left shoulder, making him wince as the pain seared across his back.
'I was thrilled when you named your first son after me.' Harry's eyes cracked open, to find his father lounging on the foot of his bed. 'And I could understand Albus,' James continued. 'But really, did you have to name him after Snape, too?'
Harry didn't reply right away. His head tilted to the side, as he examined his father. Harry began to laugh, but it quickly turned into a hiss of pain as his shoulder jiggled with the laughter. He contented himself with a smile, as he realized he was nearly twice his father's age. Harry ran a hand through his hair with a rueful grimace. The silver strands around his face were growing more and more pronounced and James' hair was still a mass of thick, black hair. He noticed James was doing the same. 'So that's what I would have looked like when I became a grouchy old man,' James said.
'I'm not grouchy!' Harry exclaimed. 'And I'm not old. I'm only thirty-eight.'
'Thirty-nine in two weeks,' James shot back. 'I was there, remember? Or are you getting too damn old to remember that kind of thing?' he chortled.
'I'm so thrilled I can give you a laugh at my own expense.' Harry scowled at his father.
'Aaahhhh. Now that's what I missed.' James smiled genially at his son. 'Attitude from one's offspring... I don't think I missed much.'
'So you wanted to know why we named Al after Snape?' Harry said abruptly, changing the subject.
'Why you named Al after Snape. I don't recall Ginny having much of a say in the matter.'
Harry looked down at the edge of the sheet over his lap. 'So I could be a better man. Than either of you,' he sighed.
'James?' James looked up at his mother. 'Do you want to...?' Ginny gestured toward the swinging doors. James shook his head, staring down at his trainers.
Ginny sat down in the chair next to James with a sigh. 'We've been lucky,' she said. 'Your father's been doing this for more than twenty years, and this is the first time he's ever been seriously injured.' James blinked rapidly several times, bending and stretching his fingers until they popped loudly.
Ginny hand stroked over James' messy hair. 'He's going to be fine.'
James jerked his head away from Ginny's soothing hand. 'I'm not Lily,' he growled. 'You don't have to convince me everything's all right.' He heaved himself to his feet and joined Al and Lily at the fireplace to Floo back to the Burrow with Molly and Arthur. He snatched a handful of Floo Powder from the urn next to the hearth and threw it into the fire, disappearing in a swirl of emerald flames.
'Mum?' Lily tugged in Ginny's sleeve. 'Are you coming home later?' she asked plaintively.
Ginny hesitated, but after looking at her children's strained faces, she nodded. 'I'll be home before you go to bed.' She waited until they, too disappeared, before she turned to her parents. 'Will it be all right if they stay with you for a few days?'
'Of course it is,' Molly said. 'I'll fetch some clothes over for you as well.'
'Thanks, Mum.' Ginny rubbed her eyes. 'I'll there about eight or nine...'
'I'll leave some dinner for you.' Molly hugged Ginny, then she, too left the hospital.
'Will James be all right, do you think?' Ginny asked Arthur, staring into the flames dancing on the hearth.
Arthur enveloped Ginny into a gentle embrace. 'It's rather difficult when you realize your parents are mortal after all,' he said. 'Just give him some time, eh?' He kissed Ginny on the forehead. 'Maybe he and I can go in the village for some ice cream and chat a bit.'
'Thanks, Dad.' Ginny stepped back and allowed Arthur to follow Molly and the children to the Burrow.
She watched as the flames died down, then turned, straightening her shoulders as she headed back down the corridor to Harry's room.
Teddy glanced questioningly at the burly Auror, standing as some sort of sentinel outside Harry's hospital room. The Auror inclined his head toward the door in tacit permission for Teddy to go into the room. Teddy nodded once in thanks, and slipped through the door. Ginny sat curled up in the windowsill, her head resting against the glass. 'Ginny... I...' He perched next to her on the windowsill. 'I'm sorry about earlier...'
Ginny sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.
Tentatively, Teddy put an arm around Ginny's shoulders. His eyebrows flew up in surprise when Ginny began to cry. It lasted less than a minute, and she quickly sat up, palming the tears from her cheeks. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. She slumped forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 'I've been trying to convince the children that everything's okay,' she said. 'And I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince -- me or them.'
Teddy nodded. 'I'm scared, too...'
A/N: Copperplate refers to a style of handwriting from the 19th century. It's slightly fussy, but tidy and neat. It's how I've envisioned Remus' handwriting.
No, Teddy is not a werewolf... Just like Fleur isn't a Veela, but still has characteristics of one. And I'm not planning on killing off Harry any time soon... So you lot can all breathe now... lol!
As for Snape... Well, he's always been able to needle Harry into trying to prove him wrong, and that case is bothering Harry.
And if I don't leave out some nice chocolate, Steph will hunt me down... So I made some nice fudge for you.
THIRTY SIX -- Under Pressure
Arthur put a hand on the side of the fireplace and pulled himself to his feet, his knees creaking as he did so. 'I'm getting too old for this,' he muttered, stretching the stiff muscles of his back. He wandered into the kitchen and pulled out a chair from the table. 'That's the lot,' he said tiredly. 'Ron said he'd ring Hermione at her mother's and try to take over for a few hours so Hermione can come to the hospital tomorrow. The others will try to come down when they can.'
'That's good,' Molly said, directing dinner preparations. 'We need to fetch some clothing over for the children,' she sighed.
'I'll go.' Arthur stood up and went to the back door, reaching a long arm into the scullery for a canvas bag as he did so. He glanced out the window. Lily sat on the grass under a tree; her knees drawn up to her chin, with her stuffed bunny tucked under one arm. The brown ears flopped comically over her head, tickling her ear, but she didn't seem to notice. 'I'm taking Lily with me.'
'Fine.' Molly flicked her wand at a cupboard, sending a stack of plates to the table. She watched as Arthur stopped at the apple tree, holding one hand out to Lily. Lily immediately took his hand, the two of them walked through the garden gate, disappearing a moment later. She went upstairs to the attic, where James lay on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the shadows playing across the ceiling. 'Dinner will be ready soon,' she said. James merely nodded. Molly sighed and perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing James' unruly hair, smiling with it sprang back to its previous configuration. No matter what James did to it, it refused to lie down. Just like his father's...
James glared at Molly. 'What?' he asked.
Unperturbed, Molly settled on the bed a bit more. Surly teenagers were nothing new to her. 'It wasn't that you went to the hospital this morning,' she said. 'It was that you just left a note saying you were leaving.'
'Would have let me go see Dad on my own?' he challenged.
'I might have,' Molly allowed.
James rolled over to his right side, facing away from his grandmother. 'I just needed to go see Dad for myself.'
'I understand,' Molly said gently. 'But the fact remains you didn't tell me where you were going. That was rather irresponsible of you.'
'But I left a note!' James protested, sitting up.
Molly's lips twitched. 'In that respect, you've come a long way from your uncles George, Fred, and Ron. They snuck out in the middle of the night in your grandfather's flying car to pick up your father from his Muggle relatives. Didn't even have the courtesy to leave a note,' she sniffed. 'So, as long as you're staying here, you don't leave the garden or paddock without permission from me or your grandfather.'
'Grandmum! That's entirely out of order!' James nearly shouted.
Molly raised a censorious eyebrow. 'I can confine you to the house, you know,' she said calmly. 'Like I said this morning, all you had to do was ask.'
James fell back against the mattress. 'Fine,' he grumbled.
'And you get to do the washing up after meals,' Molly added. James' eyes lit up. He could get away with doing magic at the Burrow over the summer holiday. Molly's lips twitched again. She knew exactly what he was thinking. 'Without magic.'
'Ah, bloody...' James clamped his lips shut, eyeing the wand in Molly's apron. He could still taste the soap she'd used to wash his and Rose's mouths out a few summers ago. 'All right.'
Molly patted James' knee and got off the bed. She started to leave the room, but turned in the doorway. 'James, why didn't you go see your father again?'
James shrugged. 'Don't like hospitals,' he muttered.
Molly's eyes narrowed, as she watched James curl on his side again to face the wall. James had been in St. Mungo's before. It hadn't seemed to bother him then.
Ginny leaned over the bed, brushing Harry's hair away from his forehead, before pressing a kiss to it. 'I'll be back first thing in the morning,' she promised. 'Maybe I'll stop at the house first and bring your book with me. We can read it together.' Her fingers tightened on his, and she glanced at the Healer hovering in the doorway. 'If he wakes up, I want to be notified immediately.'
The young Healer nodded. 'Yes, ma'am.'
Ginny slung her bag over her shoulder and brushed one last kiss over Harry's cheek, before she left the room and walked into the waiting area. She stopped in mid-step when she saw Bill sprawled in one of the chairs, the newest edition of CounterCharm . 'Bill, what on earth are you doing here?'
Bill glanced up over the edge of the magazine. 'Dad called earlier this afternoon. Thought you could use some moral support, but that Auror guarding the double doors wouldn't let me through.'
Ginny blinked a few times. 'That's ridiculous,' she spluttered. 'They know you're family.'
'He has a list,' Bill said disgustedly. 'When did Percy start training Aurors?'
'Never, as far as I know,' Ginny replied. She looked back at the doors at the unfamiliar Auror. 'Must be a newbie in the training program,' she said to Bill in an undertone. 'Looks terrified.'
'They'll let anyone be an Auror these days,' Bill growled, baring his teeth at the trainee in a feral grin.
'Stop that,' Ginny chided, smacking Bill on the back of his head. 'You'll make him wet himself.' She retraced her steps to the trainee. 'Hiya. I'm Ginny Potter. I'm going to give you a list of people that will be allowed to go to Harry's room any time they want. Understand?' She gave the trainee a withering glare she had perfected on James.
'Uh... okay...'
'Right.' Ginny took a deep breath. 'Do try to keep up... Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Andromeda Tonks, Ted Lupin, William Weasley, Fleur Weasley, Victoire Weasley, Madeline Weasley, Alexander Weasley, Nicholas Weasley, Charles Weasley, Bronwyn Rhys-Weasley, Isabella Weasley, Aiden Weasley, Owen Weasley, Percival Weasley, Penelope Weasley, Parker Weasley, Patrick Weasley, Peyton Weasley, George Weasley, Katherine Weasley, Frederick Weasley, Jacob Weasley, Sophia Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger-Weasley, Rose Weasley, Hugo Weasley, James Potter, Albus Potter, and Lily Potter.' Ginny paused to let the young man finish scribbling the names to his list. 'Oh, and Neville and Hannah Longbottom, and Rafael Moreno and Gareth Shacklebolt.' She smiled with sickening sweetness at the trainee. 'Any questions?'
'N-n-n-n-no.'
'Brilliant.' Ginny spun around and went back to Bill. 'There. I was "official" and used your given names, so you're on there as William.'
'Thanks,' Bill said dryly.
'I'm at Mum and Dad's if anything happens, all right?'
'I'll call you if something happens,' Bill said.
'Thanks, Bill.' Ginny scooped a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. She stepped into the emerald flames. 'The Burrow.'
James smiled humorlessly as the rain pelted against the roof of the house. It fit his mood. Ginny had come home from the hospital a few hours ago, but she'd been distracted, incessantly twisting Harry's wedding ring around her thumb. She'd stared off into space, not quite ignoring them, but not really able to focus on anything around her.
He lifted his head when he heard a soft knock on the door. It opened to reveal Lily, clutching her ratty stuffed bunny, the quilt from her bed dragging behind her. 'James?' sniff 'Can I...' sniff 'Come sleep with you?' sniff sniff
'Why?'
Lily opened and closed her mouth a few times. 'Don't like thunder,' she said mulishly.
James opened his mouth to tell her no, but he flipped the bedclothes back. 'Come on,' he said gruffly. He knew it was a lie. Lily wasn't scared of much of anything. She would cavort in the back garden during storms until her lips turned blue and Ginny or Harry had to force her to come inside. Lily nearly tripped over the quilt as she ran to the bed, and climbed in. James tucked the bedding around her perfunctorily. 'Don't start talking,' he warned her. 'This isn't some bloody slumber party.'
'Okay.' Lily shifted a few times, trying to settle into the bed.
James endured it with what he thought was unusual patience for him until he couldn't handle being nudged in the stomach anymore. 'Quit it, Lily!'
Lily froze. 'Sorry...' She began to twiddle one of the bunny's ears. 'James?'
'What?'
'What if Dad...?' Lily trailed off.
'What if Dad what?'
Lily gulped. 'Dies,' she whispered.
'Hush, Lily,' James told her. 'That's not going to happen.'
'You don't know that!' Lily nearly screeched, bolting upright.
'Shhhhhh!' James hissed, putting his hand over Lily's mouth. 'You'll wake everyone.' Lily's wide brown eyes narrowed over the edge of James' hand, and she licked his palm. 'Ewww.' James wiped his hand on the back of Lily's pajamas in disgust.
'Well, don't put your hand over my mouth,' Lily said smugly.
'Dad's not going to die, all right?' James insisted.
'Why? Because you say so?' snorted Lily.
'Hey...'
James glanced up at the doorway. Al stood just inside, carrying his pillow and a blanket. 'Can I sleep in here?'
James rolled his eyes. 'Really?'
'James, please...' Al fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
'Fine...' James sighed and threw himself back down. 'Could both of you just go to sleep?'
Al nudged Lily's abandoned quilt with a toe. 'Lils, are you going to use that?'
'No.' She had already begun to burrow into James' pillow.
Al spread Lily's quilt over the floor and dropped his pillow on top of it. He settled on the quilt and draped his blanket over himself. 'Night...'
Ginny lay in her old bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was too early to get up and go back to the hospital. It had been four days since Shacklebolt had shown up at her door, and Harry was no closer to waking up now than he had been the first day. The despair she'd felt from the first moment she had walked into that ominously silent room was starting to bleed through the cracks. The children saw it. Al and Lily had taken to sleeping in the attic with James, who didn't seem to mind the company. That was what had told Ginny, more than their actions, that she wasn't fooling them, any more than she was fooling herself.
Al, who was generally quieter than James or Lily, was even more so than usual. He would join her in Harry's room for his allotted time, but spent most of it with his lips clamped together, gazing at the panel, counting the soft beeps of Harry's pulse. Lily would count the drips from the potion bottles suspended over the bed, asking a million questions about what potion did what. Even more telling, her Hogwarts letter had arrived the day before, and other than a small smile, Lily hadn't mentioned it to anyone. And James... Ginny scrubbed her hands over her face. James came to the hospital with Molly and Arthur, but refused to step foot beyond those damned double doors. He would go up to the tearoom readily enough to fetch cups of tea for her, as long as she met him in the waiting area. He didn't want to talk about Harry; he didn't want Ginny to talk about Harry. In fact, James didn't want to talk at all.
The others came by when they could. Bill, Ron, or George would drop by in the evenings for a bit, usually with food. Penny, Katie, and Fleur came during the days with books, magazines, and sympathy. Bronwyn managed to take a few days off from the dragon reservation's infirmary and came to work on Harry, translating the Healer-speak into English for Ginny. Charlie just came to sit with her, not needing to talk about anything -- a welcome relief for Ginny who needed the silence at that moment. Hermione had managed to trade places with Ron yesterday and come for an hour. Seeing Hermione come through the door gave Ginny a faint ray of hope. Hermione had been hit by the same curse when she was sixteen, and had survived. She had also been unconscious for an awfully long time, too -- over three days. Ginny remembered all the potions she'd had to take for months afterward. The myriad vials had appeared next to her plate at meals, much to Hermione's dismay. They were foul, with a stench that could have easily removed most of the grime from the walls of the dungeon where the Potions class met. And Percy, bless him, held off reporters, keeping them away from the Burrow and the hospital. Ginny was grateful for that. She could come and go without being molested by reporters. Teddy came every day. Most of the time he helped keep an eye on the children in the waiting area, but once they were gone, he slipped back to Harry's room to sit with Ginny until she left for the evening. Victoire usually slipped in between her classes for a few minutes. She took the time to answer Lily's questions, to explain what the numbers on the panel meant to Al. She usually stopped to talk to James, but he just responded in monosyllabic grunts.
Deciding enough was enough; Ginny rolled out of bed and gathered her dressing gown from the chair at the old desk. She hauled herself up to the bathroom and ducked into a hot shower, hoping it would chase the cobwebs that had taken up permanent residence in her brain. She had heard of Muggles who were like this for ages. Ginny wondered if that were to happen to Harry if she would be able to do this every day.
Al perched in the attic windowsill, watching James and Lily sleep in the single bed. Death wasn't a subject Albus Potter lingered on very often. Death was a fact of life for him. His family was littered with the dead -- his father's parents and godfather; Teddy's parents and his grandfather, for whom he was named; Uncle Fred. Even their names. All three of them were named after somebody in the family: James for their grandfather James and Sirius; Al for the two previous Hogwarts' Headmasters; Lily for their grandmother Lily and Teddy's mum, Nymphadora. Al just accepted the idea that people died and that was that. The question of whether or not they lived on -- that was something he thought about constantly.
He wondered about his grandfather, Teddy's father, and his father's godfather. He had heard stories about them and their adventures in school. He knew his grandfather James and Sirius had spent nearly four years figuring out how to become Animagi for Teddy's dad. Al could spend hours ruminating on whether or not the dead were actually able to see them. Were they proud of what his father had accomplished? Did their namesakes really watch over them, like Harry maintained? When they were small and the weather was bad, Harry used to produce his Patronus, promising to teach them how to do it when they were older. Every time, a large, silvery stag stood calmly in the sitting room for a moment, before it cantered around the room, stopping at each of them, nuzzling their heads briefly, before it disappeared.
Al let his head rest against the cool glass of the window, his breath fogging the panes. Through the smudges of the window he saw a flash of dark red hair, and rubbed the sleeve of his long-sleeved t-shirt over the mist on the window in time to see Ginny slip through the garden gate and Disapparate. She was going back to the hospital. Al didn't blame her. It was better than lying awake, counting the cracks in the plaster walls, waiting for a more 'appropriate' time to go. At any rate, going to the hospital made him feel less helpless. At least there, he knew what was going on.
'Ow!'
'Hold still,' Victoire said pitilessly. 'If you move, it's harder to get a blood sample without it hurting.'
Teddy sucked his offended middle finger, glaring at her. 'D' you have to poke so damn hard?'
'Yes.' Victoire held out her hand imperiously.
'Do they teach you that attitude in your Healer classes?' Teddy asked, scowling.
'Yes. Hand, please.'
Teddy reluctantly extended his hand out to Victoire again, and she firmly massaged his middle finger toward the tip, then firmly holding his hand still, jabbed a thin, sharp needle into the tip of the finger. Teddy hissed in pain, but didn't move. Victoire held the finger over a vial of a colorless potion, and squeezed several drops of blood into it. She put a bit of ordinary Muggle sticking plaster over the small wound, and prodded the liquid with her wand, muttering an incantation too indistinct for Teddy to hear. 'What's supposed to happen?' he asked.
'If I've done it right, if you're a werewolf, it will turn a sort of sick, mustard yellow. Kind of like the goo that comes out of Nicky's nose when he's sick.
'Ew.'
'Again, try growing up with it,' Victoire sighed. 'If you're not a werewolf, it'll turn bright blue. Almost like the loch behind the school.'
'How long do we have to wait?'
'Just a minute,' Victoire replied, keeping one eye on the vial.
'What if it's something like me, or your dad?'
'It'll still be blue. It only turns yellow if you're able to turn other people into werewolves.'
Teddy felt his heart pound in his throat. 'What if it turns yellow...?' he asked tightly.
'You're luckier than your father was. You'll be able to get Wolfsbane here every month. And you can thank Aunt Hermione for helping to pass legislation that classifies lycanthropy as a manageable disease and not something that automatically disqualifies you from participating in society.'
'What about you?' Teddy mumbled.
'What about me?'
Teddy reached over and fingered the small ring swinging from Victoire's neck. 'That.'
Victoire's eyebrow arched and she shook her head. 'I'm not going anywhere,' she said softly. 'Regardless of what color that potion turns.'
Teddy took a deep breath, and craned his head to see over Victoire's shoulder. His eyes closed briefly, then opened again, as if to confirm what he saw, and his arms wrapped around Victoire, his face buried against the side of her neck, body shaking.
The potion was blue.
James plopped into the chair he'd begun to think of as "his" in the waiting area. He could see the entrance to the Spell Damage floor waiting area and the swinging doors that led to his father's room without having to turn his head. He could see everyone come and go, refuse to go through those doors when Ginny appeared at them, and catch the nonverbal signal from his grandparents it was time to leave, with little or no effort at all.
He leaned back, and stretched his feet out. They would be here for quite some time, if the past four days were any indication of the length of their stay. Al brought his summer homework, and James had tried, but was unable to focus on it properly. He was making mistakes on his Potions essay that a first year wouldn't make. He gave it up as a bad job and tried to read, or pretended to read, his Charms textbook instead.
He saw Ginny stride through the doors and racked his brain for an excuse. He was running out of them. He didn't think 'I feel a cold coming on' would work today. Molly had given him a massive dose of Pepper-Up last night when she'd overheard him tell Ginny he didn't think he should go back to see Harry due to a cold.
Much to his relief, Ginny just ran a hand over his head in greeting, with a soft, 'All right, then?'
'Yeah.' Ginny nodded and went to take Lily back to the room, leaving James to stare sightlessly at the page on Silencing charms. He heard Teddy and Victoire come up the stairs and swiftly buried his nose into the book, trying to look purposely busy. Neither of them actively tried to push James into going to see Harry, but the fact he was the only one who hadn't made James' stomach burn with guilt. Even Aunt Hermione had managed to get away from her sick mother to come by.
James looked up when Victoire sank into the chair next to his. 'So?' she asked neutrally.
James ran a finger over the edge of the book, shrugging. 'Not like he knows I'm there,' he said.
'Perhaps,' Victoire mused. 'I've picked up a few Muggle journals, just to see what they say, and a lot of them think they can hear you.'
Shrugging, James closed his book with a sigh. 'I'd just be in the way. You know... All that stuff going on...'
Victoire sat back in her chair, eyeing James. She had spent far too much time around Weasley men to not know James' excuses were some of the most pathetic she'd ever heard. She also knew the Weasley men could dig their heels in when they'd made a decision to either do, or not do something. They had to be brought round to doing the opposite of what they had decided, but only if they thought it was their idea all along. James might have inherited half his genes from Harry, but he was still part Weasley. 'Every Healer assigned to Uncle Harry has a clipboard like this.' She showed him the one she carried, tapping it with her wand. A chart appeared on the parchment with a patient's information from the Potion and Plant Poisoning floor, where Victoire was doing most of her practical studies this term. 'See? It has all the information they need on Uncle Harry without having to go into his room.'
James bit his lip, but nodded.
Encouraged, Victoire tapped the parchment again, and brought up the information on Harry for James. 'Technically, I'm not supposed to have access to this, but Aunt Bronwyn arranged it.' She handed the clipboard to James, who studied it with a frown.
'What are those?' he asked, pointing to the list of potions. There were more than twenty.
'The top of the list are the ones he needs to have all the time. They're repairing the nerve damage in his shoulder. It's a rather slow process if you want it done right. This one will help the severed muscles regrow. Kind of like Skele-Gro, but muscles are a bit harder since they need to be flexible. These will help repair the skin so he won't have a massive scar later. He'll still have one, but it won't be as bad as it could have been.
'There's a sketch that shows where the curse gashed his shoulder.' Victoire drew the tip of her wand up the parchment, making the information scroll upwards. A small drawing of Harry's back with a diagram of the injury appeared. 'As it heals, it's reflected in the drawing. You can bring up previous images to compare them.' She scrolled back up to the potions list. 'These two work on his lung, since that got damaged a bit, but it ought to be all right. And the last few are the ones they've been giving him to keep his pulse rate regulated. But they're weaning him off those, since he's able to go longer and longer between doses.'
James gazed at the mass of information, glowing softly in front of him. 'Why the tube in his arm? Can't you just make him swallow it?'
'We can try to decant the potions down his throat, but it's messy, and with the state of his shoulder, we could do more damage trying to make sure it gets down. We'd have to move his shoulder a bit too much. Doing it this way is fine. When he wakes up, he can take them orally, like everyone else.'
'Why hasn't he woken up?' demanded James. 'Truthfully.'
'I don't know. I wish I did.' Victoire took the clipboard back from James. 'One of the Healers who works on the first floor thinks that the body shuts down like this so it can focus on healing. Who knows?'
'But four days?' James huffed skeptically.
'Things also take longer to heal with you're older,' Victoire pointed out. 'Aunt Hermione got hit with this curse when she was a bit older than you. She was out for a few days, too. So it's not that long, really.'
Victoire held her breath, waiting for James to process the information. 'Nobody's going to force you to go back there,' she told him gently.
The doors swung open, and Lily reclaimed her chair next to Arthur. James suddenly stood up and strode toward Ginny.
THIRTY SEVEN -- Surfacing
Harry rubbed his head, trying to ease the waves of dizziness that washed over him. His shoulder burned and throbbed with the sensation of thousands of tiny white-hot wires jabbing him repeatedly. He doubled over with nausea from the pain, grateful for the thousandth time Ginny had been the one to give birth to their children. He wouldn't have been able to handle it.
Blessed numbness spread through his shoulder, and Harry collapsed against the pillows with a shuddering gasp. As the nausea subsided with the pain, Harry let his mind wander, examining and re-examining everything Sirius and Snape had told him, in an effort to try and decipher their meaning. 'They're both barking,' he muttered.
'No, they're not.' Lily nudged Harry's knee. 'Budge up, then.' She settled on the edge of the bed with a wry grin. 'You sleep like your father, too,' she told him. 'Sprawled all over the bed and I'm lucky to get three inches of mattress.'
Something in what she had said made Harry straighten up. 'How much can you see?' he demanded.
Lily cleared her throat. 'Enough,' she replied succinctly.
Harry gazed at his mother in dismay. 'I'm never going to be able to...' He trailed off, searching for a neutral word to use. 'Well, you know...'
'Oh, you won't remember most of this,' Lily said cheerfully. 'It'll be like a dream that you can't quite recall the next day.'
'Whoever's doing this needs to find a nice hobby,' Harry grumbled. 'Send people in to tell me what I need to know is all in my brain, but then I won't remember it?'
Lily cupped his face with her hand. Harry's eyes closed and he hungrily leaned into the maternal caress. 'You know who did this to you, dear. You've been told; you just need to look for it.'
Harry didn't open his eyes. 'But how...?' Images of rippling silvery light flashed behind his eyelids. His eyes flew open but Lily was gone, and the warmth of her soft hand was only a mere memory.
Ginny stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She glanced at James, who was sprawled sideways across a chair, reading the Quidditch scores aloud to Harry. 'Will you be all right if I pop up to the tearoom for a bit?'
James' eyes darted between his mother and father for a moment. 'Yeah... I think so.'
'Want anything?' Ginny asked.
'I'm all right.' James resumed his dogged recitation of the previous night's game between Montrose and Kenmare. When Ginny slipped out of the room, James' shoulders fell slightly. He was exhausted. Lily had tossed and turned all night, keeping him awake most of it. Lily, too, he imagined. Dark smudges marred the skin under her eyes, matching the shadows that graced his, Al's, and Ginny's. James swung his feet to the floor and slowly slumped forward until his head rested on the bed next to Harry's hand. He blinked bemusedly at the nubby blanket under his cheek, the newspaper sliding from his lax fingers to the tiled floor at his feet and the room faded from the edges of his awareness.
Something brushed across the back of his head, stirring the hair that stuck out at odd angles. James's eyes snapped open and he held his breath, waiting. The flutter-light touch passed over his hair, sending shivers down his spine. He sat up, turning his head toward his father, and felt the floor drop from under his feet.
Harry's eyes were open. They were mere slits of green, heavy-lidded and puffy. But open all the same.
James' breath caught in his throat. 'Dad?' he whispered.
Harry slowly blinked.
James clambered to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over as he did so. 'Don't go anywhere,' he choked. 'I'll be right back.' He stumbled to the door and yanked it open, pelting down the corridor. 'Mum!' he called hoarsely. 'Mum!'
Harry blinked blearily a few times -- the closest thing to a laugh he could muster at the moment. Where in Merlin's name does he think I'm going to go? Harry chuckled to himself.
Ginny slouched at a small, rickety table in the tearoom, a cup cradled between her hands. She inhaled the fragrant steam, grateful that tea was the one thing the hospital couldn't muck up. The rim of the cup had a chip on one side, and the pale green crossed wand and bone logo was nearly worn off. Ginny supposed it was the result of years of countless palms wrapped around the cup. It reminded Ginny of a set of china Molly had used when they were younger. Somehow, that in of itself was somewhat comforting.
'Mum!' James burst through the door.
Ginny sat up straight, nearly upsetting her cup of tea as she tried to set it down. 'What's wrong?' she asked anxiously.
'It's Dad,' James panted.
Ginny's face drained of what little color it had. 'What...?' Her fingers tightened around the cup.
'He's awake.'
Ginny said nothing, but she shoved her chair back so quickly that it toppled over as she stood up. 'Are you sure?' she asked, her hand closing tightly around James' upper arm.
'I'm sure.'
Ginny stumbled down the flight of stairs back to the Spell Damage floor, clinging to the hand rail to keep her balance. The door that led from the stairwell to banged open as Ginny rushed through it, dashing through the waiting area, ignoring the other members of the family gathered there. She pelted down the corridor, skidding into the room with James following closely behind her.
Harry was surrounded by a team of Healers, who were poking and prodding him, waving wands and muttering incantations. 'Stop...' croaked Harry, inaudible under the buzz of the Healers, weakly waving a hand, vaguely in their direction. 'Can't see...'
'Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up, sir?' a young apprentice Healer asked briskly.
'No,' Harry rasped truthfully, already exhausted.
'Can you see anything at all, sir?' the apprentice asked with rising hysteria.
Ginny stooped to pick up her bag, and dug the case with Harry's glasses out of it. She impatiently shouldered aside the apprentice, muttering, 'Git.' She perched the glasses on Harry's nose. 'Better?' she murmured.
'Mmm-hmmm.' Harry blinked as the room came into focus. His gaze zeroed in on Ginny and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a lopsided grin. 'Hi...'
Ginny leaned over the bed until her nose was a hairsbreadth from Harry's. 'Scare me like that again, and I'll kill you,' she whispered, her voice cracking.
A ghost of a laugh was her only reply.
'Mrs. Potter?' The Healer in charge of Harry gently tapped her on the shoulder. 'Could you step outside for a moment? We'd like to finish our examination, and in a few minutes, you can have him all to yourself,' he said with a touch of irony, aware of the various family members who had been in and out of the room all week, and even now milled about the waiting area.
Ginny let her forehead rest against Harry's for a brief moment, and straightened up with a shuddering sigh. She turned and walked out of the room, wrapping an arm around James' waist. 'Come on, Jemmy. We'll come back in a bit.'
James nodded mutely, swallowing heavily and allowed his mother to steer him out into the corridor and through the swinging door to join the others. 'Ginny?' Molly asked anxiously.
'He's conscious...' Ginny's knees suddenly gave out and she sat down hard in the closest chair.
James stood on the edge of the small crowd around his mother, breathing in shallow pants, his mouth twisting as he tried to keep from crying. He slowly backed away, and strolled to the door to the stairwell as nonchalantly as possible, his hands clenched tightly into fists. With studied calm, he twisted the doorknob, and slipped through the small gap. James went down a few steps and sat down on the edge of a step, with his arms wrapped around his knees. He buried his face in his knees and, breathing deeply.
He didn't hear the door above him open, nor did he realize Teddy joined him until Teddy nudged his arm. James glanced up to find a neatly folded handkerchief in front of his face. He took it and rubbed it roughly over his damp cheeks. 'If you tell anyone I cried, I'll call you a bloody liar,' James said darkly.
'Won't tell a soul,' Teddy promised. He ruffled James' hair. 'If it makes you feel better, Tuesday morning I went home and cried like a baby.'
James sniffled a few times, wiping his nose on the shoulder of his shirt. 'Really?' he asked disbelievingly.
'Yeah. In front of Vic, too.' Teddy leaned back on his elbows, studying the dingy wall in front of them. 'I didn't know what was going on,' he explained. 'And I was terrified that I'd lose...' Teddy took a deep breath. 'I'd lose my dad,' he said quietly.
James shot him a look of confusion. 'But... Your dad...' He trailed off, embarrassed.
Teddy rubbed the area under his nose. 'My dad will always be my dad. Nothing will ever change that. But your dad... He helped me become a man.' Teddy stared at the toes of his scuffed boots. 'I don't think my dad would ever begrudge Harry that.'
James gave Teddy a sort of half nod. 'Do we have to go back now?' he mumbled.
'We can stay as long as you like.'
James twisted the handkerchief between his fingers. 'What was your dad like?' he asked curiously.
'I just know what I've heard in stories from your parents and Ron and Hermione. And Gran.' Teddy paused. 'I idolized him when I was younger. Then found out he had a few flaws, and was really angry at him for a while. Got over it pretty quickly, though. But he was one of the gentlest people your dad ever knew, despite -- or maybe in spite of -- being a werewolf. He read a lot. Always had a book somewhere on him. Anything and everything. Muggle novels and poetry. Treatises on Defense against Dark Magic. He always seemed a little sad. Or at least that's what your mum says. Your dad says he was one of the best teachers he ever had.' Teddy shrugged. 'Superficial stuff, mostly, I guess.' Teddy's vision blurred and he rubbed the back of his neck. 'I wish sometimes, that I remembered what his voice sounded like, or what it felt like when he held me. Or whether or not he and my mum would have liked Vic.'
Teddy inhaled slowly. He could smell the scent of the laundry soap Ginny and Harry used in James' clothes and the underlying tang of the soap James had used to wash that morning. 'I just don't dwell on it,' he said. 'If I did, I'd think about it all the time.'
James rubbed his hand over his face. He could feel the wispy stubble that dotted his cheeks. He hadn't shaved since Sunday, because every time he picked up his razor, he could see Harry standing behind him, patiently guiding his hand over the slopes of his face. 'I just kept thinking,' he began haltingly, 'that I'd never... That he'd...' James stammered.
Teddy' squeezed James' shoulder. 'Yeah, I know.'
Hermione felt the mobile in her pocket vibrate, and she dropped the skirt she was folding and pulled it out. It was Ron. 'Hiya.'
Ron leaned against the side of a bus shelter. 'He's awake,' he said simply. 'He'll recover; it'll just take a while.'
Hermione's eyes closed. 'Oh, thank Merlin,' she breathed.
Ron gazed unseeing at the bustle of the street. 'I'm confused though,' he said.
'Why?'
'Well, it was the same curse that hit you fifth year.'
'Right.' Hermione tucked the mobile between her ear and shoulder, and picked up the abandoned skirt.
'They said he should have come out of it early Tuesday morning. But it's Saturday.'
'Theoretically, he should have,' Hermione told Ron. 'It depends on where the curse hits. See, I got hit in the chest, and one of the only reasons it didn't kill me was because Dolohov's aim was off and it didn't hit my left side. I had a lot of damage to my right lung, though.'
'But Harry just got it on the shoulder, over his collarbone... It shouldn't have been that bad,' persisted Ron.
'That's what makes that curse so nasty,' Hermione said, placing the skirt in a large suitcase. 'It's all about where it hits.'
'But five days?' Ron asked, baffled.
Hermione sank to the edge of the bed. 'It depends on the person. Harry's also more than twenty years older than I was when I got hit,' she said pragmatically. 'But I'm not a Healer, so what do I know?'
Ron snorted. 'Know about as much as one. You'd think there would be a potion or spell that could have made him wake up faster.'
'You ought to know the answer to that question, Ron,' Hermione told him. 'Magic -- '
'Doesn't solve everything, I know...' Ron sighed heavily. 'So... How are you?'
'Packing up Mum's things.'
'Where's your mum?'
Hermione glanced guiltily toward the wall. 'Sleeping.'
Ron's eyebrow rose. 'She seems to be sleeping an awful lot, hen.' He chortled. 'Are you putting Sleeping Draughts in her tea or something?'
'Erm...' Hermione cleared her throat.
'Hermione!' Ron gasped in shock. 'That's -- that's unethical!'
'Don't you think I know that?' she asked tightly. 'But if you can tell me a different way to get her things packed up before tomorrow afternoon, I'm willing to listen.'
Ron sighed and glanced down the street, watching a delivery van attempt to parallel park in the narrow space between two other cars. 'Wouldn't be the first time we've done something like that...' he murmured.
'Used potions for inappropriate means?' Hermione said dryly. 'Right. We did start doing that rather early, didn't we?'
'Just a bit,' Ron agreed with a grin. 'So tomorrow, huh?'
'Yeah.' Hermione gave up trying to pack, and sat on the edge of the bed. 'I don't quite know how to say it, except to tell her that we're moving somewhere smaller, and hope that I can slip out while she's distracted.'
'Kind of reminds you of when Rosie went through that clingy stage.'
'Yeah, it does. Mum's just a bit bigger than Rosie was when she was two.'
Ron smirked as the van's driver gave up trying to park in the space and moved down the street. 'What's it like?'
'It's... nice,' Hermione murmured. 'It's got aquariums, and a couple of dogs and cats that live there, and the residents seem to like having them around. She's got a room to herself just now, but she could have a roommate later. They take them on outings sometimes. There's a nice fenced-in garden in the back where she can go outside when the weather's nice.'
'Sounds like a nice place.' Ron shifted the mobile to his other ear.
'Oh? Then why do we keep saying "nice"?' Hermione asked bitterly.
'What else are we supposed to say?' Ron retorted. 'That's it's a hellhole?'
'Well, no...' Hermione slowly fell back against the mattress. 'It just feels like we're trying too hard.'
'You're doing what you think is best for your mum,' Ron said.
'Yeah...' Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. 'I'll be home as soon as I can get Mum settled.'
A smile blossomed across Ron's face. 'You will?' he said hopefully.
Hermione grinned at the not-so-hidden emotion in Ron's voice. 'Yeah. By dinner, probably.'
'Hey, Hermione?'
'Yes?'
'I love you...'
Hermione sniffed, and a tear slid from the corner of her eye. 'Thanks. I needed to hear that.'
'I know.'
'Bye, then.' Hermione slowly closed the mobile, and slid it back into the pocket of her jeans. She lifted her wrist to her eyes, peering at the face of her watch. Jane would be awake in a few hours, and Hermione wanted to have her mother's things packed and stowed in the car before she woke up. She pushed herself to a sitting position and picked up another skirt from the pile draped over the bed.
She started humming under her breath, as she laid the folded skirt into the suitcase.
Now the time has come to leave you/One more time let me kiss you/Then close your eyes I'll be on my way...
'Where are we going again?' Jane asked fretfully.
'We're going to move somewhere else,' Hermione replied, her eyes glued to the road. 'Somewhere a little smaller.'
'But why?' Jane asked plaintively.
'That house was getting a bit too big for just the two of us,' Hermione said smoothly, surreptitiously crossing her fingers.
'Oh...'
'It'll be nice,' Hermione said encouragingly, but wincing inwardly at the use of the word "nice". 'We won't have to cook, or do the washing up. There's an aquarium like you used to have.'
'Really?' Jane's face lit up like a child's. 'Oh, I do hope I can help feed them...'
'I'm sure you can,' Hermione replied. She spent the rest of the short drive to the care home murmuring noncommittal answers to her mother. She got out of the car, and quickly moved around to the passenger side to open Jane's door.
A nurse came out to greet them, introducing herself to Hermione. 'Good morning. I'm Rebecca.'
Hermione smiled weakly. 'Hello. Hermione. And this is Jane...' She gently nudged Jane. 'Say hello, Mum,' she whispered.
'Hello...' Jane belatedly extended her hand, like a small girl suddenly remembering her manners.
Rebecca took the proffered hand and shook it. 'Would you like to come inside? We have a nice kitty who's wanting for some attention.'
Jane glanced doubtfully at Hermione, who nodded. 'Well, all right then...' She allowed Rebecca to take her elbow and guide her into the front door. Hermione opened the boot of the car and hefted Jane's suitcase out of it. A large hand reached down and grasped the handle.
'Allow me, miss,' muttered a sturdy young man. 'Is there any more?' he asked. Hermione gestured to boot to another smaller bag filled with photographs and books. He carried the bags to the door, stopping briefly to punch a series of numbers on a panel next to the door. A soft click sounded, and he pushed it open. Hermione wearily followed him inside.
'Good morning, Mrs. Weasley.' The director of the home greeted her with a bright smile. 'If you could just come in here for a moment?' She indicated a small office. 'I'll need you to sign a few papers, then you can go help your mother get settled.'
'Fine.' Hermione dropped into the chair in front of the desk, and signed where the director pointed, carefully scanning the paperwork. It was pretty standard -- health issues, medications, allergies. 'Um. She likes fish. The kind in the aquarium, I mean,' she spluttered. 'She likes to feed them.'
'I think we can arrange that.' The director smiled. 'I know you feel badly about this, but it's going to be all right.'
'That's what I keep telling myself,' Hermione muttered.
'Here's the code for the door,' the director said, sliding a slip of paper across the desk. 'It changes every quarter, so we'll send you a note with the new code. Only the people you allow will be able to take your mother out of the home. If anything happens to her, we will ring you immediately.'
'Thank you.' Hermione fiddled with the pen she'd used.
'You can come see her any time you want,' the director added. 'Take her out for a couple of hours if you like. Bring a few items from home to decorate her room next time. They seem to enjoy that. And it makes it less institutional.' The director's smile twisted slightly. 'Although, between you and me, I don't care how "cheery" you try to make it, it's still emotionally draining for the family visiting.'
Hermione giggled in surprise, clapping a hand over her mouth in shock. She carefully laid the pen down on the desk. 'Anything else?'
'No. Go on and unpack your mother's things. She's in room 418.'
Hermione trudged down the softly lit corridor, trying not to look at the more severe patients, who sat silently, sometimes staring vacantly into space, others muttering indistinctly under their breaths. Some were relatively lucid; chatting to each other about Godric knew what. Hermione found the door that already bore her mother's name, the suitcase sitting neatly on the bed. Jane was ensconced in a chair, gently stroking an orange-and-white tabby cat. 'I see you've made a friend,' Hermione said with more cheerfulness than she felt. She reached down and gently scratched the purring cat under its chin.
'Her name is Peaches,' Jane informed her daughter. 'That nice lady who brought me here said so.'
'Well, hullo there, Peaches,' Hermione said softly. She gave the cat one last pat, then bent to open the suitcase. She stowed Jane's clothing in the wardrobe, along with a few pairs of shoes and her slippers. A couple of fluffy towels and toiletries went into the small bathroom attached to the room. It wasn't bad, Hermione allowed, but it still wasn't home.
'Hermione?' Jane's voice sounded small in the relative quiet of the room. 'Where are you going to sleep?'
'I have a room on another floor,' Hermione lied smoothly.
'With other girls your age, eh? Like school.'
'Exactly like school.' Hermione took a few framed photographs of herself with Ron and the children and one with Jane and Richard shortly before he died, paired with one from their wedding day from the bag and arranged them on the small night table next to the bed. A small stack of books were lined up neatly on the windowsill. She reached into the large suitcase one last time and took out the quilt she'd found in the linen cupboard last night. It was the one that had lain on Hermione's bed as a child. Appliquéd butterflies danced over a background of floral patches. It had been a gift to Hermione for her fifth birthday from her own grandmother.
As she spread it over the bed, Hermione realized the director had been right. Even with all the homey touches she had added to room, it was exhausting, even for the hour Hermione had spent unpacking her mother's things. 'All right, Mum, your clothes are in here,' she said, touching the side of the wardrobe. 'So is your dressing gown. I put your favorite books over here,' Hermione added, running a finger across the spines of the somewhat battered novels. She blinked back the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. 'I'll be back soon...' Quickly, Hermione spun around and stuffed the smaller bag inside the larger suitcase and zipped it closed.
She thought she had managed to bring her emotions under control until she heard her mother sing softly, 'So kiss me and smile for me/Tell me that you'll wait for me/ Hold me like you'll never let me go./I'm leaving on a jet plane/ I don't know when I'll be back again/ Oh, babe, I hate to go...'
Hermione gasped and her hand tightened around the handle of the suitcase. She slowly sat on the foot of Jane's bed, burying her face in her hands. She felt the bed give slightly as Jane joined her. 'What's the matter, dear? You'll be back for the Christmas holiday...'
Hermione sat up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. 'I'm going to miss you, Mum,' she confessed.
'You'll be back soon, Hermione. Just like you said.' Jane gently thumbed a few stray tears from Hermione's cheeks. 'There now. One more hug?' Hermione nodded mutely and wrapped her arms around her mother, unable to help herself from clinging tightly to her. 'It'll be all right, Hermione. You'll see. You'll make friends at that school of yours...'
'I hope so,' Hermione said shakily. She reluctantly released Jane and kissed her mother's cheek. 'Bye, Mum.' She got up and stumbled from the room, and strode down the corridor, her arms crossed across her waist. She nodded a quick farewell to the director and slipped out of the front door. Hermione slid into the driver's seat of the car, folded her arms over the steering wheel and rested her forehead on them, weeping.
A/N: See? I told you he'd wake up soon... And as to why he was unconscious longer than he medically should have been... It's a mystery. No, really. It is. I'm not just taking the easy way out as a writer. Well, it's somewhat of a mystery, medically speaking. It's kind of like when it takes someone a bit longer to come out of anesthesia. Or why some kids go nuts when you give them Benadryl and others pass out. shrug Who knows?
Okay. So this chapter definitely deserves chocolate-chip cookies. And don't worry about the calories/fat. They're virtual and can't make you mess up your diet. :) lol!
THIRTY EIGHT -- Ripples
'When was the last time you shaved?' Harry demanded.
James glanced up, startled. 'Uh... Last week, I think. Friday before this past one?' he said, self-consciously rubbing a hand over his scruffy jaw line.
Harry shifted his left arm, bound in a sling to keep him from moving the shoulder too much. 'You look like your uncle Ron the one time he tried to grow a moustache after the war.' Harry chuckled. 'Grew out in sparse, tufty, patches. Got tired of George taking the mickey out of him every day, so he finally shaved. Thankfully.'
The apprentice assigned to Harry bustled in with five vials lined up neatly on a tray. 'Afternoon, sir,' he said.
Harry winked at James. He held up his right hand, with his index, middle, and ring fingers extended. 'How many?' he asked.
The apprentice set the tray on the table. 'Three,' he sighed. 'I really am sorry about that, sir. I panicked...'
Harry waved off the apprentice's concerns. 'No worries, Jonathon. Next time, just read the chart a bit more carefully next time.' He wrinkled his nose, nudging the glasses up a bit higher. 'I really can't see much without the glasses. Just lots of people-shaped blurs, if people are in the room.' Harry eyed the vials suspiciously. 'I suppose you want me to drink those vile concoctions?'
'Sadly, yes.' Jonathon handed one to Harry. 'You have my sympathies, sir. Brewing this one made my eyes water.'
Harry mockingly saluted James with the vial and tried to toss the potion to the back of his throat, so he could swallow it without gagging. 'Bloody hell,' he gasped. What's in that?'
Jonathon picked up the next one, swirling it gently. 'I'd rather not tell you. It's a lot like asking how sausages are made.'
'Good point,' conceded Harry, accepting the second vial. Grimacing as the thick, viscous liquid slid down his throat, he choked, 'When can I go home?'
'When Healer Leighton says you can.' Jonathon traded the empty vial for a full one. 'But I suppose in a few days, once he's convinced your shoulder's healing.'
Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the caustic bite of the potion. 'Brilliant.' He ran his tongue experimentally over his teeth. 'Ugh. Makes me feel like I've grown hair on my tongue, that one.'
'Can't you make them taste better?' James asked curiously.
'Nope,' Jonathon replied. 'We tried in my class, but all something like a sweetener does, is make it less effective. And some flavorings counteract the actual ingredients.'
'You'd think with all we can do...' James mused. 'And we can't make a bloody potion not taste like someone's manky old boot.' He made a face when Harry swallowed the contents of the fourth vial.
'Where do you think Muggles got the idea of giving sweets after a visit to their Healers?' Jonathon smirked.
Harry grinned a little. He remembered getting those small lollipops at the doctor's office after a visit to have his vaccinations updated for primary school. He would wait until he'd gone to bed, and lie in the cramped cupboard and let the fruit-flavored sweet melt slowly on his tongue. 'Last one,' he murmured, taking the final vial. 'How much longer for these?' he asked, tipping the vial into his mouth.
'Depends. Maybe a couple of months until you finish up with all of them.' Jonathon gathered the empty vials and started to leave. 'I'll be back with the next round in a few hours,' he said.
'I'll be waiting,' Harry retorted dryly. He looked at James, lounging in a chair. 'So why didn't you shave?' he asked, abruptly returning to their previous conversation.
'Just didn't,' James muttered, shrugging. 'Why do you do it?'
'Do what?'
'Put yourself in danger like that,' James blurted. 'You could have died. It would have really upset Mum, Al, and Lily,' he said accusingly.
'James...' Harry began softly. 'It's my job, son.'
'But it's dangerous,' James insisted stubbornly, his jaw hardening remarkably like Ginny's.
Grunting a little as the movement jarred his shoulder, Harry reached over to lightly lay his right hand on James' knee. 'It's not like it used to be.' He sat up against the stacked pillows behind him a bit more. 'When I was your age, it was horribly dangerous. Most Aurors didn't bother to marry, let alone have a family. It was too risky.'
James picked at a loose thread in the knee of his jeans. 'But somebody attacked you...'
Harry sighed. 'Maybe we should have been more open with you and your brother and sister about what it was like for us.'
'I've read about it,' James mumbled.
'Then you ought to have an idea what it was like then,' Harry chided gently. 'This...' He indicated his heavily bandaged shoulder. 'This is nothing. This could have happened to anybody out there.' Harry rolled the edge of the sheet between his thumb and forefinger. 'If you want, I can...' Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. 'I'll tell you about some of the things you've read about. Fill in some details...'
'Because I'm finally old enough?' James snorted.
'No,' Harry said, shaking his head. 'Because if your mum and I had been a little more forthcoming about how things were when we were growing up, this wouldn't seem so bad.' Harry glanced at James from the corner of his eye. James was rubbing his thumb over his first two fingers. 'Besides,' Harry added. 'I've already died once before. I don't plan on doing it again for a long, long time.'
Ron glanced at his watch, waiting for Hugo to decide on a move in their chess game. His blunt fingers tapped an impatient tattoo on the table and he blew out a gusty sigh. Hugo looked up at his father his brows knit in a frown. 'It hasn't been that long,' he huffed, pointing to the timer next to the board.
Ron blinked. 'Huh?' He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. 'Oh, no that's not it.'
Hugo chewed his lower lip, and moved a bishop, and hit the button on the timer. 'You're acting like Grandmum last week.'
Ron's eyes narrowed slightly at his son, but Hugo just grinned at him. 'And how is that, exactly?'
Hugo shrugged, his eyes moving over the board, calculating the possible moves he could make, based on what Ron might do. 'You get distracted.'
'You're mad,' Ron commented, carelessly moving one of his pieces.
'Am I?' Hugo swiftly moved his queen. 'Checkmate.' He speared Ron with a look. 'If you weren't distracted, you'd never have done that.'
Ron's finger tipped his king over. 'Touché,' he muttered. 'Your mum should have been home by now.' Ron absently began to put the pieces back on the board. He glanced between Hugo and Rose, who was curled on the sofa with a book. 'Are either of you hungry?' They both shook their heads. Ron methodically cracked his knuckles, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. 'Right.' He stood up and walked to the door, patting his back pocket, checking to make sure his wand was there. 'I'm going to go try and find your mum,' he said. 'I'll be back in a bit.' He started to open the door, but turned abruptly and darted into his bedroom.
Ron opened a bureau drawer, digging through a welter of mismatched socks, until his fingers met a small, hard, silvery object. His hand closed around it and Ron slid it into his jeans pocket. He wasn't certain where Hermione could be, but he had a few ideas, and if those didn't pan out, he'd need a little extra help. It had, after all, worked once before. He went to the door, and walked out to the landing, Disapparating to the stone wall that marked the border of the paddock behind the Burrow.
He easily vaulted over the wall, and loped to the towering oak tree, climbing up the slats nailed to the trunk up to the tree house hidden by the leafy branches. 'Hermione?' he called as his head popped through the trapdoor in the floor. She wasn't there. 'One more place...' he murmured, going back over the wall to Apparate to Oxford. The rose garden was in even worse shape than it had been earlier that month when he'd come to talk to Hermione after his chat with the children. Ron let his hand cup a fading rose, his mouth turning down sadly when the slight movement shook the washed-out petals to the ground. Inhaling slowly, he faced the house, and trudged to the back door, tentatively knocking on it. 'Hermione?'
There was no answer.
Ron experimentally twisted the doorknob, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as it turned under his hand. 'Mione?' He peered into the dusky shadows of the sitting room, his nose wrinkling at the musty, closed-in odor that permeated the room. He pointed his wand at the windows and flicked it upwards, making the windows fly open, bringing the late summer breeze into the room.
A snuffling sound caught his attention, and Ron turned in its direction. It came from the kitchen. Curiously, he followed a following sniffle into the kitchen and found Hermione staring into the depths of a cup of tea. Ron could see the scum of milk that had formed around the edges of the cooled tea. Saying nothing, he slid into the chair next to hers and laced his fingers through hers. Her raw, pink cheeks told him she'd been crying for some time already. 'I feel horrible,' she whispered. 'Like I abandoned her.'
'But you didn't,' Ron insisted.
'She thought I was going to school my first year when I left.' Hermione scrubbed a tea towel roughly over her cheeks. 'She was even singing...' She buried her face in Ron's shoulder. 'She was singing like she used to do when I packed my things,' she choked. 'And then Mum was the one comforting me when I left, because she thought I was eleven years old and terrified that I wouldn't make any friends at school...'
Ron didn't know quite what to say. The problem was, there wasn't anything he could say at that moment that wouldn't make the situation worse. Hermione was already feeling an enormous amount of guilt for not being able to care for Jane. Trying to tell her it was for the best would be the worst thing he could possibly do. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and just let her cry until the fabric of his shirt was soaked through.
Eventually the ragged sounds of Hermione's weeping drifted into long, shuddering breaths. 'Do you want to go home?' Ron murmured.
'Not yet...' Hermione sat up wiping her cheeks with one hand. 'I need...' She trailed off, uncertainly. 'I need to...' She made a vague gesture encompassing the house.
'Do you want me to stay?' Ron asked.
Hermione nodded, folding her arms on the table and resting her head on them. 'Please...'
Ron gently stroked the tangled curls away from her face. 'All right. We don't have to go back to the flat straightaway, hen. I reckon Rosie and Hugo can take care of things for a few hours, eh?' He waited for Hermione to answer, then realized she had fallen asleep. 'Ought to let them know we'll be a while,' he murmured, quietly pushing his chair back. He went into the back garden, unable to stay in the house any longer.
He stood in the middle of the unkempt garden, his wand held loosely in his hand, trying to block out the image of the garden and all it represented. He didn't often cast a Patronus charm anymore, but he figured he could send a message to Rose and Hugo, considering he hadn't left his mobile with them. He could feel it in his right pocket. 'Right... Think of something happy...' he muttered to himself, closing his eyes. The breeze shifted, and an image of Hermione on their wedding day came into his head, borne on the mingled scents of roses that encircled him. 'Expecto Patronum,' he said, softly, yet firmly. Ron's eyes opened slowly and the bright silver terrier sat at his feet, one paw raised in supplication. He almost laughed, since it had a tendency to scamper about when he was younger. Guess we all get older at some point, he thought. 'Go to tell Rose and Hugo we'll be home late,' he told it. The terrier loped toward the fence and disappeared. Ron glanced at the house over his shoulder and decided Hermione would be asleep for a good hour or so, headed for the shed to gather a few tools together.
Kneeling at one end of the old beds that ringed the garden in the gathering dusk, Ron felt some of the tension that had knotted between his shoulders unravel as he began to prune the old rosehips that studded the canes. He was tired. Between worrying about Hermione and spending the past week worried about Harry, he hadn't slept much the past two months.
Ron tossed a handful of rosehips into a small pile and moved to the next rose bush. He wondered what they would do with the house. He couldn't imagine selling it, not with Richard's prized roses here. Funny, he's been gone fourteen years, and I still think of them as his... It was something they'd have to discuss. Later. Much later.
When Ginny had come out into the waiting area yesterday afternoon, shaking and pale, Ron had feared the worst, not only for himself, that he'd lost his best friend, but he couldn't imagine going to tell Hermione that she'd lost another member of her family. He had been relieved to be able to call Hermione and tell her Harry was going to be all right. Still... It had reminded Ron unpleasantly of their first year, after finding the Sorcerer's Stone, seeing Harry lie in that stark white bed in the hospital wing, various cuts and scrapes standing out in livid streaks on his pale face. He'd been unconscious for days, then, too.
His breath caught, and Ron let the small pruning shears drop to the grass, sitting back on his heels. He slowly rubbed a hand over his face, leaving dirty streaks over his cheeks. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to steady the tremors in his hands. Too many times he'd had to be the one who didn't panic, shoving all his fears and worries aside in favor of dealing with someone else's, when all he wanted to do was panic. His fingers closed around the handle of the pruning shears and he flung them across the yard wincing as they bounced off the fence with a metallic thump.
He sat huddled on the grass, feeling like the sulky adolescent he'd once been.
Ginny dug into the laundry basket that stood in a corner of her bedroom until she found the shirt Harry had worn to work last Monday. She lifted it to her face, breathing in the faint scent of Harry that still lingered in the fabric. She shed her own clothing and slid her arms through the sleeves, buttoning it as she padded to the bed. Ginny lifted the edge of the quilt and slid under it, snagging Harry's pillow in her fingertips, pulling it toward her, and wrapping her arms around it. He was coming home in a couple of days. The gash in his shoulder was finally showing signs of healing -- she couldn't quite see the bones as clearly as she had a week ago when they changed the bandages.
The mobile on Harry's side of the bed chirped once, signaling a message, and went silent. Frowning, Ginny reached for it, and gazed at the screen. 'Oh...' In all the confusion, she had quite forgotten to contact one other person. Nervously, Ginny pressed the button that would return Dudley's telephone call.
Dudley laid Sarah in her cot and draped the small blanket over her. The mobile in the pocket of his shorts began to ring, startling Sarah. She woke up and began squalling. 'Bloody...' Dudley attempted to juggle the mobile and Sarah, but he only succeeded in dropping the mobile on the floor, and twisting Sarah's sleeper around her body. Anchoring Sarah to his hip with one arm, Dudley managed to pick up the mobile. 'Hello?'
'Hi... It's Ginny...' A small line appeared between Ginny's brows. 'Is this a bad time?'
Dudley strode down the corridor to the sitting room, where Aaron was surrounded by books and papers. 'No, it's fine. Sarah's something of a light sleeper.' He handed his now-whimpering daughter to Aaron and mouthed, 'Help!' to the other man.
'You'd think you'd learn to put the damn thing on vibrate,' Aaron grumbled, as he snuggled Sarah against his chest.
'Can't hear it when I'm running,' Dudley sighed. 'Sorry,' he said to Ginny.
'Don't worry about it.' Ginny pulled the cuff of Harry's shirt over her free hand, and toyed with the button.
Dudley wandered into the kitchen, and pulled a chair out from the table, and dropped into it. 'Is everything all right? I rang a few times last week to try and pin down an evening for dinner, but I guess Harry didn't get the messages.'
'No. I just got them,' Ginny said. 'Actually, I'm calling about Harry.'
'He's not going to cancel, is he?' Dudley asked warily.
'Oh, no. It's just he's been in the hospital for the past week.'
'Is he all right?'
'He'll be fine.' Ginny started babbling. 'I'm really sorry. I just didn't think to call you and he was unconscious...'
'I want to see him,' Dudley said, interrupting Ginny's stream of babble.
'What?'
'I want to see him. If I'm allowed,' he added, remembering Harry's world was a closely-guarded secret.
'Oh.' Ginny blinked a few times. 'Of course you can. But I'll have to take you through. Otherwise you won't be able to see the entrance,' she replied matter-of-factly.
'Oh, right. Because it's hidden, naturally.'
'Well, yes. It is.' Ginny smiled a little. 'They all are.'
'So where...?'
'It's in London. By the Holborn station.'
Dudley snorted. 'Well that's convenient.'
'Is ten tomorrow morning too early?'
'Nah. It's fine.' Dudley paused, drawing patterns on the table top with his fingertip. 'How bad is it...?' he asked tentatively.
Ginny blew out a slow breath. 'It was pretty bad. He's getting better, but it'll take a while. They're letting him come home in a few days.'
'That's good,' Dudley sighed in relief.
'So, ten tomorrow outside of Holborn?'
'Yeah. Good night, Ginny. And... Thanks for calling.'
'You're welcome.' Ginny fell back against the pillows and turned off the mobile. She wondered briefly, as she fell asleep, if Dudley would remember George and the Ton-Tongue Toffee. She hoped not. Otherwise, it could get quite ugly.
Aaron watched Dudley disappear through a set of doors, trailing behind Ginny, leaving him in the waiting area with Sarah. Various members of Ginny's family sat in clusters, cheerfully ignoring the sign on the wall that begged visitors to please be quiet. He glanced at the crowed of redheads, interspersed with a few blondes and a black or dark brown head here and there. He turned his attention to Sarah. 'So, you think we can take them?' he asked. Sarah yawned and gnawed her fist. She was teething, and a line of drool slid down her arm. 'Yeah, I didn't think so...' Aaron gazed around the room, trying to see if he could identify any of them by their descriptions. The taciturn man sitting across from him with a pencil and a small notebook in his hands looked vaguely familiar. Almost like Ginny, if Ginny had been male. The eyes though... Aaron was sure he'd seen them before. In fact, he was certain he had seen them that very morning. 'Charlie!' he exclaimed.
The man blinked bemusedly. 'Do I know you?'
'You're Charlie. Ginny's brother. Well, one of them...' Aaron finished lamely.
'And you are...?'
'Aaron Bernstein. I'm Dudley's partner.'
'How do you know me?' Charlie asked in confusion.
'Oh, well, it's just that Harry speaks about all of you, and he said that James had his grandfather's eyes. Like Ron and Charlie. But Ron's tall...' Aaron realized he was babbling and bit his lip.
'May I?' A short plump woman held out her arms. 'All my babies have quite grown up.' When Aaron looked doubtfully at her, she continued, 'I'm Molly. Ginny's mother.'
Aaron glanced down at Sarah, who gurgled appealingly at Molly and held out a wet, pudgy fist. 'If you're sure...'
Another man snorted in disbelief. 'Mum always needs a baby around the house. She's already started on trying to match up the older grandchildren so they can add to the chaos.' He glared pointedly at Molly. 'Like we need more of that.'
Aaron's eyes narrowed at the man who had just spoken. His hair was cut in a curious style that was somehow short, but still shaggy enough to cover his ears somewhat. Except where he could see the tip of one ear peep from the mass of hair on the left side, the right was oddly flat. 'George!' Aaron blurted.
'Yeah...' George leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. 'So... You're with Dudley...' He had never believed Ginny's shaggy-dog story that Dudley had changed.
'Ten years,' Aaron confirmed shyly. 'We just adopted Sarah in March.'
'What do you do, dear?' Molly asked interestedly.
'I'm a lawyer. Human rights issues, mostly.'
'Like Hermione,' someone clarified, when Molly's face clouded.
'Oh, right then.' She carried Sarah to a knot of women, leaving Aaron uncomfortably alone with Charlie and George.
George studied Aaron as if he were some sort of unusual magical fungus to be used in a Snackbox concoction. 'What kind of human rights?' he asked abruptly.
Aaron tilted his head to the side as he considered George. 'I make sure people aren't discriminated against for their sexuality,' he said dryly. 'I help make it possible for poufs like me to do things like marry and have families. And have jobs so they can eat and keep a roof over their head.' He ran a hand through his dark hair. 'Look, I know Dudley was something of a berk when he was younger. But do you honestly think someone who does what I do would be with a sadist?' he growled softly.
Before George could answer, Dudley came through the door, looking slightly shaken. His eyes widened when he saw George sitting across from Aaron. 'You!' he exclaimed. 'You dropped that toffee!'
'Yeah,' George admitted, a hint of defiance in his voice.
'My tongue was four feet long!' Dudley glared at George. 'And you had to have known I was on a bloody diet!'
George looked uncomfortable. 'Yeah.' The single tip of an ear blazed. 'You were a bully to a friend.'
Dudley paled under his light tan. 'I've apologized to Harry,' he said tightly. 'He's accepted it and moved on. And I refuse to be judged by my past for the rest of my life.' He found Sarah and retrieved her from Molly's arms with a soft apology for the ruckus with George.
Ginny nudged Teddy, who had been in Harry's room. 'Could you take Dudley and Aaron back downstairs? I need to discuss something with George,' she said in an ominously quiet voice.
'Sure.' Teddy hastily beckoned to Dudley and Aaron and they descended the stairs to the ground floor.
Ginny stalked to George and poked him in the ribs. Hard. 'What was that about?' she hissed.
'He started it,' George protested.
'What are you? Two?' Ginny said in exasperation. She held up a hand to forestall any further protests George might have had. 'First of all, it's taken Harry and Dudley years to get to this point, and I'll be damned if I let you or him ruin it. Second, if Harry's able to let it go, so should you. Third, if this has any effect at all on Harry's relationship with his cousin, so help me, I will let you explain to him why.' Her eyes narrowed, making George wilt slightly under the scorching heat of her gaze. 'Do I make myself clear?' she spat softly. George nodded, and Ginny turned on her heel and left him standing in the middle of the waiting area.
Harry adjusted the sling irritably. It dug into his neck, and no matter what he did, it crept back to the worst possible spot. He wandered into James' room, kicking aside a pile of dirty socks. 'Ready?' he asked. James nodded and slid off the messy, unmade bed. 'I thought we'd go down to the tool shed. Work on the motor bike a bit for something to do while we talk.'
'Okay.' James slouched down the stairs ahead of Harry and opened the tool shed door, yanking on the chain that dangled from a single, bare light bulb. He picked up a small wrench and turned it over in his hands.
Harry shut the door behind them and leaned against the workbench. He had been home for a few days, but still tired easily. He reached back with his good hand and unearthed a box of Chocolate Frogs, and tossed one to James. 'So where do you want to start?' he asked casually.
A/N: For those of you still wondering just what those dreams of Harry's were all about, they will be explained in good time. :)
And Steph requested Hydrox to read with this update... If you don't like those, I'll just leave a big block of dark or milk chocolate. Just knock off a chunk and start nibbling. Remus would want you to!
THIRTY NINE -- Boomerang
Harry shut the door behind them and leaned against the workbench. He had been home for a few days, but still tired easily. He reached back with his good hand and unearthed a box of Chocolate Frogs, and tossed one to James. 'So where do you want to start?' he asked casually.
James slowly chewed a foot off his Chocolate Frog. 'I dunno,' he mumbled. 'The beginning, I guess.'
Harry heaved an internal sigh of relief. At least the beginning, as it were, wasn't nearly as difficult to speak about as the end. He slid back onto the workbench, heedless of the grime he knew was streaking the back of his jeans. 'Well... You know my parents died when I was a bit more than a year old. They'd gone into hiding, and a friend of their betrayed them and told Riddle their location. He killed my dad, who tried to buy Mum and me some time to get away, then came after Mum.' Harry stared at the wall, seeing the shattered house on the other side of the valley, where he never took the children. 'He told Mum to move away from me, and she refused. So, he killed her, then tried to do the same to me. Only for some reason the Killing Curse didn't work and Riddle just... disappeared...'
'Why?'
'At the time, nobody knew. But later, I found out he'd been splitting his soul so much, that there wasn't much left by then.'
'No, why didn't you die?' James interrupted.
With a glance at the door, as if he expected Ginny to burst through them and scold him for taking the sling off, Harry lifted the strap over his head. Rubbing the reddened mark on his neck, he shrugged with his good shoulder. 'I wish I knew. Putting it all into a prophecy isn't quite enough for me. But, it's the best explanation I have.' Harry smiled crookedly. 'There are things you have to take on faith, and sometimes, like your aunt Hermione, you need proof. A year or so before I was born, someone made a prophecy that the one to defeat Riddle would be born at the end of July. And it could have been Neville, too,' he added. 'But, he picked me -- the half-blood, like himself.
'The upshot of it all was I got sent to live with Mum's sister. See, when Mum died to save me, she enacted a charm. Very old magic. So as long as I could live with one of her blood relations, I was safe. At least until I came of age.'
James hoisted himself onto the workbench next to his father. 'Lily said she met them. After you put Al and me on the train in January.' He glanced at Harry. 'Said they were... Shirty.'
'Just a bit,' Harry said dryly. 'They took me in, because, really, they didn't have much of a choice. They didn't like magic, and tried everything they could to ensure I didn't show any signs of it, either.' Harry tried to find a subtle way of saying exactly what the Dursleys had done in their attempts, but gave up. 'They mistreated me,' he said baldly. 'I didn't have a proper room until I was nearly eleven. Up to that point, I slept in a cupboard under their stairs.'
'Like the one you and Mum keep things like wellies?'
'Yeah. Except mine wasn't as clean.'
James shuddered. His parents weren't what he would classify as freakishly neat, but even their cupboard had its fair share of dust bunnies and spider webs. 'That's...' He shook his head, unable to reconcile the image of his father with the shy, skinny, somewhat wary child from the photographs of Harry with Ron and Hermione from his first year of school.
'Don't let it bother you,' Harry said diffidently. 'Molly more than made up for it starting my first year.'
James licked a smear of chocolate off his thumb. 'You said if we had known about your years at school, this wouldn't be a big deal...' He idly picked up a jar with a collection of nuts that Al had patiently sorted last summer. 'What happened, did you get attacked or something your first year?'
'Yes. I did.'
Harry's calm statement startled James so much, the jar slipped from his hands and crashed to the floor of the shed. 'What? Why? How?'
'Oh...' Harry sighed. 'You know... I think this might be easier if you saw it...' He slid to the floor. 'Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back.' He slipped the sling back over his head and walked into the house, heading straight to the study. A small cupboard stood in the corner. Harry only opened it occasionally, but he never used what sat inside. He unlatched the doors, and nudged them open, revealing a shallow stone bowl that had once occupied a cupboard in the Headmaster's office. Harry traced a fingertip over the runes that were etched on the rim. He had always meant to ask Hermione what they meant, but he could never bring himself to show the Pensieve to her. He slid his right hand under it, and hefted it up, cradling it in his arm. 'You can do this,' he muttered to himself as he went back to the shed.
James straightened up, pointing to the Pensieve. 'What's that?'
'Could you take it?' Harry asked. 'I could manage picking it up, but you'll have to set it down.' As James reached for the bowl, Harry cautioned, 'Don't touch the stuff inside yet.' Confused, James looked down into the bowl at the rippling, silvery light that filled the dim shed.
'What is this?' he asked.
'That,' Harry began, 'is a Pensieve. It holds memories. It'll be like you were there.'
'Wicked!' James breathed. 'How'd you get one?'
'It used to belong to Professor Dumbledore. After the war, McGonagall gave it to me. Said I might need it one day.' Harry held the tip of his wand to his temple, and pulled it away, taking a few silver wisps with it. He carefully transferred it to the Pensieve. 'Go on, then,' he said. 'Put your face in it.'
James' face scrunched in uncertainty, but he bent over the bowl and lowered his face into the shimmering liquid. He found himself in a room occupied by a man in a turban, and... Harry. But not a Harry James knew. This Harry was round-cheeked, with floppy hair, wearing a jumper that was far too big and jeans that would have dragged on the floor, had the hems not been turned up a few times. He couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve years old. 'Watch this,' said a voice in his ear, and James turned in surprise to see Harry standing next to him. 'You're about to see what's behind door number three...' James' eyes slid back to his father's younger self and stared in outright horror as the man unwound a turban, revealing a face on the back of his head.
'What the bloody hell is that?' blurted James.
'Quirrell. My first Defense professor.' Harry paused. 'And Riddle. Sort of.'
James gasped as Quirrell's hands blistered and burned when the tried to take a blood-red stone from Harry. He tried to tear his gaze away, but watched in sick fascination as Quirrell, goaded on by the man on his head, redoubled his efforts to take the stone. He winced as Harry screamed in pain, but planted his small hands on Quirrell's face nonetheless. 'What is he after?'
'A Sorcerer's Stone. Riddle wanted it to come back...' Harry's face was set in impassive lines as he watched Quirrell disappear in a yawning heap of ash, and his younger self collapsed to the stone floor, unconscious. 'I was out for four days,' Harry commented. 'Bastard cost Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup that year... I missed the last game.'
'Was he trying to kill you?' James demanded.
Harry lightly smacked James on the back of the head. 'Well of course he was, eejit.'
'B-b-b-but you were only a kid!'
'He didn't care,' Harry replied.
The scene swirled around them, to be replaced by a dirty, dark, cavernous room. James' mouth dropped open at the sight of Harry fighting a rather large serpent. 'Dad...?'
'Basilisk. Riddle was a Parselmouth.'
'A what?'
'He could talk to snakes.' Harry waited a beat. 'So could I, then. Can't do it any more.' Harry's mouth quirked in a quick grin. 'Can't say I miss it.'
'You could talk to snakes...?' James asked weakly.
'Oh sure. Talked to a boa constrictor at the zoo once. I set it free so it could go to Brazil,' Harry said idly.
'Why would you do something like that?' James asked incredulously.
'He said he wanted to go to Brazil. He'd never been there, and the plaque next to his enclosure said boa constrictors are from Brazil.' Harry gazed at James in wide-eyed innocence.
'Oh, right. Because everybody wants to go home...' James returned his attention to Harry, just in time to see one of the basilisk's fangs sink into Harry's arm. 'That can't be good.'
'Nope,' Harry said offhandedly, feeling slightly detached from it all. 'Hurt like hell.' But it was still early, he reasoned. 'Those fangs are poisonous. Fatal, too.'
James' eyes narrowed as he watched the slightly older Harry stumble toward a still figure lying on the filthy floor. 'Is that... Mum?'
'Yeah.'
James cringed as Harry plunged the fang into a small, battered diary, sending horrendous screeching noises ricocheting around the room. His dark brow rose as Harry helped Ginny to her feet and gestured for her to precede him from the room. Harry's hand reached out toward the ends of Ginny's hair, then quickly drew back in a motion so fleeting; James doubted Harry had been aware of it back then. 'Dad...' he groaned, with an expression of slight distaste on his face. 'She's like, what? Eleven? Twelve?'
Harry hadn't missed the gesture, either. 'It's not like I knew,' he pointed out dryly. 'Up until the end of my fifth year, she was just Ron's baby sister...' Harry blinked when the mist swirled and instead of the Shrieking Shack, they were surrounded by tombstones and shadows. 'Oh... Skip right to the difficult stuff, hmmm?'
James tore his eyes away from a teenaged Harry that was starting to resemble the man standing next to him, and another older boy. 'Difficult stuff?'
Harry flinched slightly as he heard Riddle's high, reedy voice call out, 'Kill the spare!'
'Spare..?' James turned his head just in time to see the bright green light knock the older boy to the ground, where he lay motionless. He rubbed his eyes, but the scene hadn't changed. 'Dad?' he whispered. Harry's mouth was bracketed with tense lines as he glared at the unfolding drama before them. James tried to not look at the scene in front of him. Tried not to watch as Harry was bound to a large tombstone. Tried to look at his shoes instead of the silver knife that flashed in the firelight and slashed Harry's arm open. James opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He glanced at his father. Harry's face had paled slightly, but that could have been mere weariness. Somehow, James didn't think so. The shouts from the graveyard pulled his attention back to the memory, and he winced at the glaring brightness from the spells that flew from Harry and Riddle's wands.
'Shite, that looks a lot worse than I remember,' Harry murmured hoarsely. 'And what I remember is pretty damn bad.'
James began to feel a sneaking suspicion that things like this happened more often than his father was willing to admit. 'Dad...?' He nudged Harry, who hadn't moved once during the entire ordeal.
Harry shook his head. 'It's fine,' he said. 'It was a long time ago.'
'Was this... That... Normal?' James wheezed, gesturing to the image of Harry pelting across the graveyard, dodging spells, before his hand closed on the other boy's wrist.
Harry licked his dry lips. 'Yeah.'
The younger Harry gasped, 'Accio,' and he disappeared when a large gaudy trophy flew into his hand. 'W-w-w-was he dead?' James stammered.
Harry nodded once. His good arm snaked over James' shoulders, as the image shifted and swirled around them. The events in the Department of Mysteries flashed around them, and Harry's hand convulsed on James' shoulder when Sirius fell through the veil. Unconsciously, James moved closer, until a mere hairsbreadth separated him from his father. James' mouth fell open as Riddle attacked his teenaged father. 'Bloody hell,' he mouthed. His breath began to hitch in his chest when the scene changed abruptly to one of Harry flinging objects around a round room that had to have been in Hogwarts. He'd never seen his father react with that amount of rage before. 'Why did you do that?'
'It was right after Sirius died. It was sort of my fault,' Harry said quietly. He hadn't meant for James to see that particular memory, but as they watched Harry storm and rant, Harry realized James needed to see this. He hadn't missed James leaving himself out of his litany of people it would upset if Harry died. 'It's all right to grieve, son,' he said, in that same quiet tone. 'And it's all right to be angry if someone dies.'
James gulped and nodded. He ducked his head, remembering the accusations he'd hurled at Harry a few days earlier.
The memory shifted once more, and almost too quickly to process, the cave with the Inferi whirled around them, followed by Dumbledore's death, and the battle in Hogwarts. The year Harry spent on the run spun around them, like leaves on the autumn winds. James stared transfixed as he watched Harry march into the Forest, surrounded by four indistinct, shadowy shapes. 'Who are they?' he breathed.
'Mum. Dad. Sirius. Remus.'
'Why...?'
'To walk me to meet my death,' Harry murmured.
'That's mad!'
Harry looked at James, full in the face, for the first time since they had entered the Pensieve. 'I had to,' he said. 'It was the only way.' Harry's hand squeezed James' shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 'I carried a bit of his soul, and it was the only way to destroy it.'
'How can you be so... So... Indifferent?' James blurted.
Harry's mouth stretched into a tight smile. 'Believe me, James. I'm not nearly as indifferent as you might think.' The scene faded and shifted into the Great Hall. 'This kind of thing, it makes me have nightmares. Even now. Even more than twenty years after the fact.'
'If it makes you have nightmares,' James began, 'then why are you showing me this?'
'Because it's much easier than telling you.' Harry jerked his head toward the image of himself and Riddle circling each other, their taunts echoing eerily in his head. 'You'll want to see the grand finale,' he said wryly.
James kept his eyes fixed on his father's face, sighing soundlessly, as Harry's eyes closed against the sight of Riddle's dead body.
'I think that's enough,' Harry muttered, grasping James' elbow.
'But...' James blinked and the two of them were leaning wearily against the workbench. 'That was...' His mouth worked soundlessly, trying to find the words to describe what he had seen. James slumped against the workbench, his hands shaking. He stared at Harry standing next to him, idly tracing the runes etched on the rim of the Pensieve. James felt his stomach lurch, and he retched, and then threw up, narrowly missing his and Harry's shoes. 'Sorry,' he mumbled, feeling tears spring to his eyes, embarrassed.
Harry waved his wand, Vanishing the puddle of sick. 'It's all right,' he murmured, stroking James' hair.
James could hear Lily and Al in the garden through the roaring in his ears. He wanted, no -- needed -- to leave the confines of the tool shed, but he couldn't let either of them see him like this. He rocked on his feet, clearly torn between fleeing the relative sanctuary of the tool shed and staying there in relative safety. He glanced up at Harry, who looked at him, worriedly.
Harry waved his wand again, and a tall stool appeared behind James, who dropped onto it gratefully. Harry conjured one for himself and perched on it, keeping an eye on James. 'I don't take the dangers of my job lightly,' he mused, seeming to talk more to the row of tools hung on the wall than to his son. 'I knew exactly what I was getting into when I started doing when I was eighteen. Yes, there still is the possibility that I can be injured, but like I told you, it's a lot less dangerous than it was.'
James shook his head. 'That graveyard -- how old were you?'
'Fourteen, almost fifteen,' Harry said softly.
The skin around James' eyes tightened. 'My age,' he mumbled. 'You were my age.' He looked down at his shaking hands. 'How can you be so normal? If it were me I'd have gone out my tree a long time ago.'
'People thought I had,' Harry admitted. 'Every time someone died, or got caught in the crossfire, it was the worst feeling in the world, because they were trying to help me. Riddle wasn't after them, it was always me he wanted, and he didn't give a rat's arse about anyone else. Not even people who supported him.' Harry rubbed the back of James' neck, feeling the tendons stretched into taut ridges. 'The thing is, all that was normal for me. I didn't know things could be any different. It was...' Harry heaved a sigh, trying to search for the best way to say it. 'I had to learn things that you and your brother and sister take for granted. Like what it was like to have parents and a family. And once I knew what that was like, I knew what it was I was fighting for. It wasn't for me. It was for Hermione and Ron. And Neville. Molly, Arthur... My parents.' He ran his hand through his hair. 'That's what made it possible for me to do all those things you saw,' he said.
'Afterward, after the last battle, I kind of shut myself away from everything. I really don't remember much about the first few weeks. But in a way, it was good for me. I got to adjust to a world without Riddle. And after all those years, it was something of an adjustment.'
'How did you get anything done at school, if you had all that going on?' James asked, clasping his hands together.
'I honestly don't know,' Harry chuckled. 'Your aunt Hermione had to browbeat me into getting my homework done most of the time, along with your uncle Ron. And the rest of the time, I just had to try and work around it, or ignore it.' He absently rubbed the scar on his forehead. 'There were a few years where this burned or throbbed nearly all the time. I had nightmares, visions, whatever you want to call them about things Riddle was doing. That actually helped, though. I knew what he was thinking or doing. Gave me an edge in the end.'
'Why do you call him Riddle?' James asked. 'One of the accounts I read called him Voldemort.'
Harry snorted. 'He called himself Voldemort. His given name was Tom Riddle. After his Muggle father, who never knew he existed. Voldemort was supposed to make him sound scarier.'
'Did it?'
'People referred to him as "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". The Death Eaters just called him the "Dark Lord". You tell me.'
'I guess so...'
'I called him Voldemort for the longest time. I didn't know you had to be frightened of the name, and it seemed pretty stupid to be scared of a name. Professor Dumbledore would call him "Tom". It always seemed to irk Riddle to have someone call him that.' Harry smiled wistfully. 'But when you didn't think of him as "Voldemort", he was just an arsewipe with a rotten attitude.' Harry glanced at James, a bit guiltily. 'Don't tell your mother I said that in front of you.'
'No, sir,' James said, with a hint of a grin. He fidgeted a little, before the next question flew out of his mouth. 'Dad...? Can we...? That is, can you and me...' James lowered his eyes to the floor. 'Mum said you were living here when your parents died,' he burst out.
'Yeah.' Harry could tell where this was leading. Long ago, he had put his parents' house under the same kind of wards he had helped put on the Burrow the week after the battle. Later, when James, Al, and Lily had gotten old enough to run about the village, he had been grateful the wards were on the house. It allowed him to maintain the illusion that he wasn't Harry Potter with his children.
'Is the house still here?' James asked in a voice so small, Harry had to strain to hear it.
'Yeah,' Harry admitted.
'Can you take me to see it?' James asked tentatively.
Harry started to say no, but as he opened his mouth, he said, 'Yes. But some other day. I think we both could use a break from all this.' He slid off his stool. 'Ready to go back in?' he asked, scooping the Pensieve up in his right hand.
James shook his head. 'Not yet. I'll go in later.'
Harry nodded in understanding. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of James' dark head, then slipped out of the tool shed and back into the house.
Marriage, Katie reflected, didn't lay someone's soul bare to the other person. She still found things out about George she had never known before. It wasn't that George didn't talk. He did. But people did change, and things they found important even a few years ago, suddenly didn't seem so relevant anymore. At this point, she thought she knew George better than most people alive. George was still prone to bouts of depression where he barely spoke to any of them. He tried to hide it from their children, but even when they were young, they could sense something was wrong. It had nearly prevented George from marrying her; he had been so unwilling to drag her down with all his baggage.
Over the years, she had learned when to prod George and when to leave him be. If he wanted to be left alone, he avoided her as much as possible. If he wanted to talk, he didn't quite avoid her, but he found excuses to be in the same room, and not talk. It took years to figure that out, Katie thought ruefully. She had to be the one that initiated the conversation. It was rare that George ever came out and told her what was bothering him straightaway.
Ever since that morning in the hospital, when Harry's Muggle cousin had confronted him about something-or-other, George had been decidedly off-color.
This particular night, however, George reached for her, as soon as she turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness. With the other hand, he waved his wand at the door, casting a Silencing charm on it. 'Am I a coldhearted prankster?' he asked, without preamble.
'What, now?' Katie asked, perplexed.
'I mean, when I was in school.'
Katie sighed and wriggled until she had turned over to face George. 'Sometimes. I mean you didn't always seem comfortable with crossing the line into something like hazing, but...' Katie hesitated.
'But?' George prompted.
'Please don't take this the wrong way,' Katie pleaded, 'but when Fred made up his mind to do something, you tended to follow his lead.'
'We just wanted him to have a taste of what it was like,' George said a bit defensively. 'When we went to pick up Harry at his Muggle relatives, before my sixth year, we had just perfected Ton-Tongue Toffee, and Fred thought it would be great fun to "accidentally" drop one in front of his cousin.' George reached up and tugged at his ear. 'He was much bigger, then,' he added. 'And on a diet, according to Harry's letters to Ron, so Fred knew he'd pick it up and eat it.'
'Oh, dear,' murmured Katie. 'You did it, didn't you?'
George nodded. 'Dad thought we did it because he was a Muggle. We did it because he was a git.'
Katie sighed softly. 'George... At the time, did you ever think that some of your pranks might actually hurt people? What if your father hadn't been able to put things back to rights?'
'Obviously, that didn't occur to us when we did it,' George said, stung, pulling away slightly from Katie. He'd lain awake long into the night, afterwards, listening to Fred's grunts and snorts as he slept. Most of the other sweets were relatively harmless, but a cold knot of guilt lay heavily in the pit of his stomach. They really didn't know what would happen when someone ate it. His hands clenched on the edge of the quilt in an unconscious echo of that long ago night. George hadn't dwelled on it since, but at odd moments he would wonder - what if we'd killed him...?
Katie's eyes closed as she mentally walked among the shelves of the shop. Ton-Tongue Toffee wasn't in the section with the Snackboxes or other trick sweets. 'When did you stop selling the toffee?' she asked curiously. It hadn't been on the shelves for years.
'When I reopened the shop,' George replied. 'It wasn't a big seller to begin with, but Fred insisted on keeping it on the shelves before...' His broad hand scrubbed over his face. 'I wasn't overly fond of it as a product anyway,' he sighed. George shifted uneasily. 'Do you really think Harry's cousin has changed, or is it something Ginny believes because she wants to?'
Katie shrugged, settling against George, lacing her fingers through his. 'That's a question you'd have to ask Harry, don't you think?'
'I suppose,' George muttered.
'And,' continued Katie, 'if he truly was still the same person he was more than twenty years ago, would Ginny have allowed him to visit Harry in the hospital?' she asked, pragmatically.
'Probably not,' George allowed. 'She'd probably hit him with a large Bat-Bogey.'
'If Harry can manage to move past it all, shouldn't you?' Katie's eyes drifted shut and she yawned widely, stifling it in the front of George's t-shirt. 'After all, it is his opinion that counts in all this...'
A/N: I need to thank Steph for listening to me outline the structure of this and to Fi for using the term 'coldhearted prankster' in a review, and I just had to use it. It fits very well, and I was drawing a blank until I saw that.
For those of you wondering when Al and Lily get the same treatment in regards to Harry's past, just be patient.
And since it's gotten chilly here, and I want some anyway, I'll leave out a nice pot of hot chocolate. :)
FORTY -- Crossroads
Ginny approached Harry with a bandage in one hand and a jar of ointment in the other. He made a face at the sight. 'Do we have to?' he asked.
'You're worse than one of the children,' Ginny told him. 'You're lucky Leighton doesn't make me bring you back to the hospital for them to do this.' She lifted the sling over his head and set it on the bed next to him.
'That bloody goop they gave you makes my whole arm numb,' Harry complained.
Ginny unbuttoned Harry's shirt with the ease of long practice. 'Would you rather not have it?' she asked archly, knowing the one time he had talked her into not using it, he'd spent most of the night awake, pacing next to the bed, unable to sleep because of the pain.
'No...' he sighed. When Ginny pushed the shirt down his arms, he grinned up at her. 'You can unbutton other things,' he suggested with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Ginny paused in the act of peeling the thick bandage off Harry's shoulder. Her brow arched as she gazed down at Harry. 'No.'
'That's it? You're just going to deny a sick man like that?' Harry asked incredulously.
Ginny scooped a dollop of the icy blue ointment from the jar and gingerly spread it over the livid gash. 'Absolutely.' She picked up the bandage and gently laid it over his shoulder, making sure the gaping edges were covered and cast a Sticking charm to hold it in place, then a Cushioning charm to keep Harry from jarring it. Ginny pulled his shirt back into place. 'Not until you can move your arm without wincing in pain,' she told him, kissing his nose.
'But that'll take weeks,' Harry groused.
'Then you'll have something to look forward to,' Ginny told him pertly. 'Think you were eighteen again,' she huffed. She pointed her wand at the old bandage. 'Evanesco.'
'Can I at least have a kiss?' Harry asked hopefully. Ginny bent and gently kissed him, so lightly if Harry hadn't been able to taste the Peppermint Frog on her lips, it might not have happened. 'Witch,' he murmured.
'And a damn good one.' Ginny laughed huskily and gathered the jar and her wand and left the room.
Ron closed the lid on a carton, and wiped his sweaty face, leaving a smudge on his nose. He looked around the room Jane had slept in; searching for anything he might have left. Satisfied the room was empty, he swept his wand around the room, muttering, 'Tergeo.' The dust that lay in the corners and along the top of the baseboards vanished. He lifted the carton in his arms and carried it down the stairs to the sitting room to join a welter of similar cartons. 'Right, that's the lot from your mum's room,' he told Hermione.
'Thanks.' Hermione looked up at him and grinned. 'You've got a smudge on your nose,' she told him. 'Right there.' Her finger tapped the tip of her nose in illustration.
Ron swiped the sleeve of his t-shirt over his nose. 'Better?'
'Yeah.' Hermione reached up and ran her thumb down Ron's nose, removing the remainder of the smudge. She glanced around the sitting room, a hint of dismay creeping into her features. 'What am I going to do with the house?' She ran her hand through her hair. 'I mean, I suppose we could live in it, but...' She trailed off uncertainly
'But...?'
Hermione sighed and dropped to the sofa. 'We don't really need it. Not with Rose and Hugo both in school.'
'You could let it, maybe...' Ron suggested.
'I don't know,' Hermione said softly.
'You don't have to make any decisions now, hen,' Ron told her. 'But it isn't good to let it sit empty for very long.'
Hermione's nose wrinkled in doubt. 'I'm not sure,' she said. 'I'm not chuffed about letting strangers live here.'
Ron pensively pulled at his fingers until the knuckles popped. 'You could...' he began softly. He cleared his throat. 'You could sell it...'
'I can't,' Hermione said shortly. 'Not while Mum's still alive.' She sighed and got up, picking up a pen to label the carton. 'I know it's not like she's going to live here again, but it just feels like I'd sell the house out from under her.'
'You can't just not do anything,' Ron said mildly. Hermione's back was to him, but he saw her shoulders jerk in reaction. He fiddled with his wedding ring for a moment, twisting the wide band around his finger. 'Is there anything else that you need to do here right now?'
Hermione sealed the carton with tape, and rubbed her hands over her face. 'No.' She kept her back to Ron. 'Could you go pick up Rose and Hugo from Harry and Ginny's? I'll be home later.'
Ron touched her shoulder. 'Hermione...'
'Just go.'
Ron's lips thinned in annoyance. 'You don't have to keep going on alone like this.'
Hermione carefully set the pen down on top of the carton. 'I appreciate your concern, Ron, but it's not your problem.'
Ron grasped Hermione's upper arm and turned her around. 'What do you mean it's not my problem?' he demanded. 'Your mother is my problem. She has been since the day I married you.'
'You don't understand...'
'Why? Because my parents aren't Muggles? Because what's happened to your mum won't happen to mine?' Ron's eyes narrowed. 'Or am I just not intelligent enough to understand?' He dropped Hermione's arm and stormed out of the house.
'Ron, wait...' Hermione went after him, but he had Disapparated.
Hermione shifted a small box filled with photographs into her other hand, as she opened the door to the flat. Hugo lay sprawled in on the floor in the sitting room, snorting contemptuously at some rubbish on the telly, before he switched it off, muttering, 'Over one hundred channels and still not a bloody thing on...' He glanced up at his mother, pressing his lips together, as if to stem the tide of words in his mouth. 'Sorry, Mum.'
'Where's your father?'
Hugo tilted his head toward the back of the flat. 'In the kitchen. Been baking since he got home. There're enough biscuits to last through a family do, and now he's doing pies.' Hugo paused, sniffing the air appreciatively. 'Apple, I think. Or maybe pumpkin.'
Hermione rubbed one of her temples. 'Damn,' she sighed. She could count on one hand the number of times Ron had gotten upset enough to go on a baking spree. The last time, he'd made enough biscuits and pasties to leave on the counter in the shop for a week during the holiday rush for the customers to take one with their purchase and have plenty for them at home. She ruffled Hugo's thick, dark red hair. 'At least school's starting soon and he can take them to work, eh?'
'Are we still going to get my things for school next week?' Hugo asked anxiously.
'Yes,' Hermione said firmly. She went into her bedroom, and set the box on the bed, before venturing into the kitchen. Piles of biscuits were heaped on the counters and four pastry-lined pans sat on the table, waiting for the pumpkin filling Ron mixed in a bowl. The aromas of chocolate and cinnamon hung heavily in the air, nearly choking Hermione in the summer evening. She shut the door behind her, and flicked her wand at it, casting a Silencing charm with an ease that still made Ron marvel, when he wasn't industriously attempting to ignore her, as he was trying right now.
He took his wand from his pocket with his free hand, and Summoned a ladle from the drawer by the stove, murmuring the incantation. Ron began to fill the waiting pans without bothering to glance up at his wife.
Hermione picked up a chocolate biscuit and nibbled at the edges. 'It's not that I don't think you're intelligent enough,' she began. 'I just need you...' She bit her lip. 'I can't handle what's going on with Mum if you end up as rattled by all this as I am.'
Ron's hand with the ladle shook and the pale amber batter slopped onto the table. 'How long have we been married?' he asked.
Perplexed, Hermione stammered, 'Sixteen years. Next month.'
Ron nodded once. 'And for most of those sixteen years, your mum has been another member of this mad group of people I call my family. And I don't know what's going on, and nothing I can say or do seems to help, because I don't know anything.' He turned back to his pies and resumed carefully measuring the batter into the waiting pastry. 'I need to be involved, hen,' he added quietly.
'You have no idea...' Hermione started to say, before she was rudely cut off by Ron.
'You're damn right I have no idea!' Ron snarled. 'Bloody hell, Hermione! Don't you understand I can't help you -- I can't be what you want me to be for you -- if I don't know what's going on?'
Hermione stared at Ron in abject shock. She lifted a trembling hand and covered her eyes, sniffling a few times. Ron's shoulders slumped as he saw a tear slip from the corner of the eye that wasn't completely concealed by her fingers. 'Oh, Hermione, please don't cry...' he muttered. He dropped the ladle and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. Seeing her cry made him feel like he was fifteen and completely clueless again.
'Mum forgot Dad was gone yesterday.' She rubbed her nose over the front of Ron's shirt, breathing in the familiar aromas of the laundry soap they used and baking that clung to him. 'I had to tell her he was dead.' Her voice broke slightly. 'It was like it happened all over again for her.'
'Maybe you shouldn't tell her,' Ron ventured.
'I couldn't not tell her,' Hermione sighed. 'She'd been looking for him.'
Ron thoughtfully picked up the ladle. 'Do you remember when Rosie was about four and you had just started defending people to the Wizengamot?'
Hermione nodded wearily. 'Yeah. So?'
Ron picked up a filled pie and slid it into the waiting oven, then added a second one before shutting the door. 'The week when Draco Malfoy's parole came up for review and you had to stay in Scotland for the duration for security reasons, and Rosie kept asking where you were the first day or so. If I told her you weren't going to come home for a while, she'd throw a tantrum that made anything I could do at her age seem like a picnic.' Ron began to absently munch on a biscuit. 'But I just shouted at her one day halfway through the week you were at work.' His mouth tipped up slightly in a deprecating grin. 'Except for the shouting, it seemed to be just enough for her to know you weren't here for the mo.'
'You want me to lie to Mum?'
'Not really lying,' Ron corrected. 'Just not telling her everything. Not if it's going to upset her.'
'Mum's not four years-old, Ron.'
'No, but it can't hurt to try. What's the harm?' Ron picked up another biscuit. 'Do you want to keep repeating that your dad's dead until she forgets she married him?' he asked harshly, wincing inwardly at his tone of voice, cramming the biscuit into his mouth to cover his embarrassment.
'Not particularly,' Hermione replied dully. She ran her hand through her tangled hair.
'At some point, Hermione,' Ron mumbled, 'you'll have to learn to just go with things.'
'I hate that,' she said tightly. 'I hate not knowing what comes next.'
'None of us do, hen,' Ron told her quietly.
Dudley tucked his mobile into the pocket of his shorts and left the flat with a sigh. He walked out of the door and stretched a few times before setting off down the sidewalk. His evening run was a long-ingrained habit that stretched back to the summer after Harry left them for good. The summer when it was apparent Harry wanted nothing to do with them. He had started running to get out of the house after dinner when the scent of cleanser hung heavily in the summer air and reveled in the ability to come and go as he pleased, after nearly a year of being cooped up with his parents.
As he settled into a rhythm, Dudley reflected on that year. All those men and women who'd kept watch over them had had nothing but praise for Harry. They spoke of him in hushed, glowing tones, full of hope, but with undertones of anxiety for his safety. He would lay awake far into the night, trying to match the image of what his parents had said about Harry and his kind with what he witnessed every day. It didn't match up.
Well, most of it hadn't. Dudley could still remember that summer day Arthur had come to pick up Harry. He'd been frightened -- more than he wanted to admit -- and terribly hungry. The quarter of a grapefruit and measly lettuce leaf topped with cottage cheese that had comprised his breakfast and lunch didn't do much to ease his physical hunger. So when he'd seen the brightly wrapped sweet fall to the floor from the pocket of one of the twins that had come with Arthur, Dudley knew he shouldn't have touched it, but a rumble in his gut overrode any misgivings he might have had about it and his hand shot out and grabbed the sweet before his mother could see.
He unwrapped it, thrilled to discover it was a toffee and not a sherbet lemon. Dudley loved toffee. Quickly, he popped it into his mouth and his eyes closed in unholy bliss as the toffee began to melt on his tongue. In seconds, he felt his tongue begin to swell and it rapidly expanded until it filled his mouth, then protruded from his lips, lengthening until it snaked over the sitting room rug.
Dudley's pace increased as the uncomfortable memory played through his head. It was one of the few things he'd never confided to Aaron. Even with Aaron knowing Harry was magic, Dudley didn't think he'd believe it.
Dudley stopped, and rested his hands on his knees, panting for breath. He normally didn't run that fast, preferring a somewhat slow, steady pace, as opposed to the blistering speed he'd set himself this evening.
He could still remember the identical looks of unholy glee on the twins' faces as they each disappeared in the fireplace. At one point his whimpers of fear, turned into grunts of pain as Petunia attempted to forcibly yank his tongue from his mouth. It wasn't until he'd begun to black out because his tongue was blocking his airway, that either of his parents allowed Arthur to fix it. Dudley remembered seeing the fussy flowers woven into the rug come into focus as his vision cleared and lay on the floor a few minutes, panting, grateful that he could breathe once again.
It had taken years for Dudley to be able to probe that memory for why. It had been obvious to him, much later, that he had been targeted by the twins. So he'd stewed for an entire year, until he had his chance, in the weeks after Harry had come home from his school and Dudley could hear his nightmare-induced cries. He hadn't wanted to risk physically provoking Harry, so he settled for needling Harry about the nightmares.
But still...
Those Dementors had sent him for a loop, but it had been the words of Harry's headmaster that had sent him down a path of self-examination. Harry, Dudley decided, was not nearly the threat his parents had made him out to be. He started to wonder how much his parents had damaged Harry by their blatant neglect and abuse. Calculating just how much Harry had lost was mind-boggling, as far as Dudley was concerned. It made him cringe now, as he thought about how much of Harry's rotten childhood could be laid at his own feet.
Dudley started running again, but this time he wasn't attempting to outrun his memories. He wondered if he would be able to finally forgive George, and by extension Fred. Even if he wasn't able to actually do it face-to-face. It had been something he worried about and told as much to Aaron. For his part, Aaron had just gazed at him thoughtfully for several long moments before he went to a bookcase and pulled out a worn book, finding a page halfway through and turned the book around to Dudley.
Frowning, Dudley took the book, blinking a few times as he realized it was Aaron's prayer book. Aaron's index finger pointed to a passage. You have to mean it, he said. But if you realize you can't after giving it an honest effort... Aaron had shrugged. At least you tried.
'Mum?' The pained whisper came from the doorway. Daphne sat up, waving her wand at the lamp next to her bed. Scorpius stood framed in the doorway, wincing at the sudden light. She beckoned to the boy and he slowly walked into the room.
'You haven't called me "Mum" in ages,' she said lightly. 'You must not feel well.'
Scorpius shook his head. 'No...'
Daphne slid from the bed, and picked up her dressing gown. 'You should have come inside earlier.'
If Scorpius could have blushed, he would have. As it was his skin was already blazing painfully. 'I know,' he admitted. 'But I lost track of time.' He hissed in pain as Daphne eased the unbuttoned pajama top off his shoulders.
'You didn't feel it, did you?'
'No. Not until it was already like this.' Scorpius' bright pink shoulders slumped a little.
Daphne made sympathetic clucking noises as she laid a hand over his hot, tight skin. 'I'm not very good a brewing potions,' she said. 'But your grandmother's not bad at it. I can do a Cooling charm, maybe numb it a little bit to hold you over until the morning and Narcissa can make something for that burn.'
'Okay.' Scorpius' voice held a hint of misery.
In the corridor, Draco swiftly headed for the stairs and silently descended them, slipping into the library. He found a small book, bound in green leather. Leafing through it, he found what he was looking for, and walked into the kitchen. He set the book on the large, high table in the middle of the room, and uncertainly glanced around, looking for a cauldron. There ought to have been one somewhere. He began to root around through the cupboards until he found a few smaller ones. No matter. It would fit his purpose. He set it on the scrubbed wooden table, and lit a fire underneath the cauldron. The ingredients were easy enough. Aloe, rosemary, lavender. They were ordinary Muggle ingredients, but he knew they'd been grown with dragon dung fertilizer. It seemed to make whatever healing properties they had stronger. He hesitated over adding monkshood. It could help numb pain, but it was highly toxic at large doses, and he had seen Scorpius at dinner. The boy was almost as red as the scarlet stripes in his school uniform tie. A pinch, then, Draco decided, hoping Scorpius wasn't overly sensitive to the properties of monkshood.
It was a relatively easy potion to brew and in less than an hour, Draco decanted some of it into a vial. He set it aside and put the rest of the potion in a larger vial and set it next to the smaller one intended for Scorpius. Draco quickly cleaned the kitchen, putting everything to rights. He carried the smaller vial into the study and dug out a scrap of parchment and a quill, hastily scribbling instructions that it was to be applied topically no more than twice a day. Draco stood outside Scorpius' bedroom door and carefully pushed it open.
Scorpius lay sprawled across his bed, sound asleep. Draco carefully set the vial on his son's night table and backed away, lest he wake him.
Harry settled into a chair and took the cold butterbeer from Neville gratefully. He watched Hannah coo over Sarah, her face alight with bliss. 'Nev, can I ask you something?'
Neville laughed. 'You just did.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'You've been around teenagers too much.' He cautiously shifted his healing shoulder and shook his head. 'Something personal,' he clarified.
Neville took a long pull of his drink. 'Sure.'
Harry indicated Hannah and Sarah. 'How come you and Hannah never had children?'
'Oh...' Neville inhaled slowly. 'It just happened,' he said quietly. 'We tried. For a long time. And while we were trying, we looked into adoption.' Neville picked at the label on his bottle. 'Adoption is a little expensive, and it's not that we didn't have money, just not enough at the time.' His voice cracked a little, and he smiled a bit wistfully. 'Then I got the job at Hogwarts, and money wasn't quite an issue anymore, but with me going back and forth between Diagon Alley and Hogwarts, the Ministry drone said it wouldn't look good on an application. By then, Hannah and I realized we weren't going to have a baby, and then I got the position of Head of Gryffindor house.' Neville shook his head. 'We just never got around to trying to reapply.' He rubbed his eyes. 'I seriously doubt they'd let us adopt a child now. I mean we're almost forty.'
'Why don't you ask?' Harry asked curiously.
'Because I don't want to be told no.' Neville grinned deprecatingly.
'It's not really fair,' Harry muttered. 'You should have had a houseful.'
Neville shrugged. 'There're a lot of things I should have had,' he commented. 'Just wasn't in the cards for us, I suppose.'
George staggered onto the hearth of Harry and Ginny's house. He waited for Sophie, Fred, and Jacob to come through the Floo, and sent them out into the back garden to join the others. He trailed after them, stopping in the kitchen when he saw Dudley through the window, sitting next to Ginny and Hermione. Katie's fingers laced through his. 'What's wrong?' she asked.
George nodded toward Dudley. 'Didn't know he was going to be here.'
'George, you're both adults. Try acting like one.' Katie squeezed his hand before she, too, joined the others in the garden.
Taking a deep breath, George followed Katie, and stood just outside the door. His eyes drifted toward Dudley and he took a deep breath. I have to do it, Fred. He trudged to stand behind Ginny's chair. 'I... We... We didn't know it wouldn't reverse itself. Most of the sweets we did like that would last a few seconds then you'd go back to normal.' He stopped talking, his jaw working.
Dudley didn't look at George, but nodded once in acknowledgement. George made a soft sound in the back of his throat and strode toward Harry and Neville.
FORTY ONE -- Balancing Act
The young man paced impatiently in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks, waiting for his signal. He wore a cloak with the hood pulled up far over his head, shadowing his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the back wall of the Hogs Head. He heaved a sigh. The old man was late. As usual.
He was furious.
High-pitched chirping intruded on his thoughts and he glanced up in time to see a flock of tiny, brightly yellow canaries streak past him. He pushed himself off the wall and strolled into the Three Broomsticks. He glanced around the dim interior and found the old man sitting in the shadowed corner, facing the door. He walked to a table next to him, and pulled out a magazine. 'What were you thinking?' he asked softly, inaudible under the bustle of the late-evening crowd. 'Going after Potter was not part of the plan!' he hissed.
'Plans change,' the old man growled, sipping his drink placidly.
'He could have died.' The young man thought of the tight bond between Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin. If Potter had died, Lupin'd never rest until he caught us...
'But he didn't,' the old man pointed out. 'He's on his way to a full recovery.'
'Doesn't matter,' the younger one insisted. 'That went too far.'
'Are you getting scared or something?'
The young man recoiled. 'No.'
'They're vermin, lad. Encroaching on our world.'
The young man snorted. 'What's the idea? Force all the Muggle-borns to leave everything behind?'
'Could do,' the old man admitted. 'Same with half-bloods. Too many of them know about us.' He leaned back casually in his chair. 'I thought you were on board with this.'
Stung, the younger man recoiled slightly. 'I am,' he said shortly. 'I just find attacking one of our own distasteful.'
The old man bared his teeth in an inhumane, feral grin. 'How do you feel about attacking his relations?'
The younger man said nothing, but inwardly, he winced. Going after someone's relatives reminded him a bit too much of methods used by Death Eaters.
'It's perfect, lad,' the old man continued. 'Nobody'll be looking for something like the way he did it.' With that, he stood up and limped out of the Three Broomsticks, leaving the younger man gaping after him. He reached over and wrapped a hand around the older man's abandoned glass of Firewhisky and tossed it down his throat with a gasp.
Things were rapidly slipping out of control.
Harry sat on the examination table in the Healer Leighton's office. He shivered slightly in the chill, wondering for the umpteenth time why Leighton kept it so cold in his office. A soft knock sounded on the door, and Jonathon's head peered around a slight opening. 'Mr. Potter?' The rest of Jonathon followed his head. 'Leighton asked me to do your follow-up.'
Harry grinned. 'Okay.' He unbuttoned his shirt one-handed and allowed Jonathon to gently tug it off his shoulder. Jonathon carefully peeled the bandage back and set it aside. 'How's it look?'
Jonathon drew his wand over Harry's shoulder. 'The muscle damage is nearly healed,' he murmured. 'You'll be able to stop wearing the sling soon. The nerve damage is healing. It'll take a bit longer, but you can resume normal activities in another couple of weeks.' He put a layer of the pale blue ointment over the healing gash, and covered it with a clean bandage. 'The rest of the soft tissue damage is healing nicely. Skin ought to heal over by the end of the month.' Jonathon added. He hesitated. 'You're going to lave a pretty bad scar, though.'
Harry shook his fringe from his eyes, revealing the faded scar on his forehead. 'I don't think it'll be a problem,' he said dryly.
Jonathon flushed and his shoulders hunched slightly. 'Right,' he coughed. 'Why do I always seem to say the wrong thing around you?' He used a Sticking charm to secure the bandage to Harry's shoulder and pulled his shirt into place.
Harry shrugged with his good shoulder. 'Dunno.' He started to do up the buttons of his shirt. 'You're saying all the things you'd say to a normal person.'
'But you're not normal,' Jonathon sighed dejectedly.
Harry slid off the table and patted Jonathon on the back. 'But I am normal. Well, with a few more scars than the average wizard.' Harry slid the last button through its buttonhole. 'Don't worry about it. I'd prefer everybody treat me like that.' Harry started to open the door, but before he twisted the doorknob, he paused. 'I do have one question, though,' he began.
'All right.' Jonathon straightened and managed to arrange his features into something more professional. 'Go ahead.'
'When will I be able to...?' Harry leaned closer to Jonathon and whispered in his ear.
Jonathon jerked away. 'How old are you? Oh, wait... Never mind. It's in your chart. You've just turned thirty-nine.' He gave Harry a slightly appraising glance. 'You can still do that? At your age?'
'Don't sound so shocked,' Harry admonished mildly. 'I'm not dead.'
'No, I suppose not,' Jonathon muttered. 'Um. Three weeks or so, I guess.'
'Brilliant,' Harry said with a grin, choking back a laugh when Jonathon visibly refrained from shuddering.
'Just don't forget to make an appointment to come back for a follow-up in two weeks, all right?' Jonathon asked, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. 'And you can cut back the potion meant for nerve damage from four times a day to three.'
'Right.' Harry opened the door and sauntered to the waiting area, where Ginny waited, her foot tapping on the black-and-white tiles impatiently. After making arrangements for his next appointment, he turned to Ginny. 'Ready to go?'
'What took so long?'
'What do you mean?'
Ginny adjusted the strap of her bag. 'All Leighton was supposed to do was check the shoulder.'
'Oh. That.' Harry shrugged. 'He was busy elsewhere, so he let Jonathon look things over.'
Ginny stopped cold. 'What did you do?' she demanded. Harry had enjoyed taking the mickey out of the hapless trainee while he was in the hospital.
'What makes you think I did anything?' Harry asked, in wide-eyed innocence. 'I just asked him when you and I could...' He bent so his lips brushed over Ginny's ear and whispered a few words. He grinned down at Ginny. 'Said three weeks.'
'Only three weeks?' Ginny asked skeptically. 'He doesn't know you very well, then, does he?'
'Apparently not,' Harry chuckled. 'Where did you leave the heathens?'
'At the shop. Ron said Hermione was going to meet us there at eleven.' Ginny glanced at her watch. 'And it's nearly eleven now.'
'Did you bring the list?' Harry asked, as they walked toward an Apparition point.
'Of course I did,' Ginny huffed. 'First thing is Lily's wand.'
'I wonder if she'll take as long as I did,' Harry mused.
'Then uniforms for all three of them. Al needs new trousers badly. When he came home, you could see a good inch of his socks under the hem. James keeps burning holes in his jumpers in Potions. Godric only knows where their ties have disappeared to.' Ginny slid her arm through Harry's and she turned. They Disapparated and reappeared at the entrance to Diagon Alley.
'I don't suppose we could split up?' Harry asked, as they walked toward the shop.
'Divide and conquer, eh?' Ginny said with a smirk.
'Something like that. After Lily and Hugo get their wands and we get uniforms arranged for all of them, Ron and I can take the boys and go get their books, and you and Hermione can take the girls and get the rest of it. Might get it done sooner.'
'And the sooner we can get something to eat,' Ginny added. 'I'm starving.'
'And you used to deny you were related to Ron,' Harry said sadly.
Lily burst through the door, dragging Hugo behind her. 'Is it time?' she asked excitedly. 'Can we go now?'
'Yes, we're going. As soon as your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione can get out through that mess of people,' Ginny told Lily patiently.
'Where are we going first?' Hugo asked diffidently. His attitude didn't fool Harry. Hugo was as anxious to start school as Lily.
'Wands, probably,' Harry said, settling the sling into a more comfortable position. 'That's the hard part.'
'Why is it the hard part?' Hugo asked curiously.
'Because you have to find one that fits you,' Ron said, as he pushed through the throng of people that lined up outside the door, Hermione's hand clutched in his.
'Took me ages to find mine,' Harry commented. 'Ollivander went through loads before he found the one that might work best for me.'
'Can we go now?' Lily huffed impatiently.
'As soon as we can extract Rose, Al, and James from that mass of people,' Ron muttered. He cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Oi! Rosie!'
'We're coming!' Rose panted, as she and Al wriggled through two people who were most reluctant to give up their places in line. 'Keep your hair on, Dad.'
'Where are we going first?' Al idly asked.
'Ollivander's,' Lily piped up.
'As soon as James gets out here,' Ginny added.
'I'm right here,' James said behind Ginny, making her jump.
'Don't do that!' she exclaimed, slapping his shoulder. 'Nearly frightened ten years off me.'
'Ow, Mum,' James groused, as he rubbed the stinging spot on his shoulder. 'That hurt.'
'I'm seriously going to need a drink, or the largest sundae I can find,' Harry muttered softly to Ron, 'when we're through with today.'
'I'll join you,' Ron rejoined.
'It'll have to be the sundae,' Ginny retorted. 'No alcohol with your potions,' she said pointedly.
'Damn,' Harry sighed.
They followed Lily and Hugo, who nearly ran down the street, at a more sedate pace. Ollivander himself had retired just after Lily was born. He had trained one of his numerous nephews in the meticulous art of wand-making before then, rather than subject the wizards and witches of Britain to inferior wand-making. The shop was still dim and dusty, and Ollivander's nephew had inherited his uncle's wide, silvery eyes. The fact he was a younger version of his uncle sent Harry back nearly thirty years. 'Ah, young Miss Potter and Mr. Weasley!' he said in greeting, when Lily and Hugo burst through the door. 'It's your turns, eh?'
'Finally!' Lily breathed, glancing around at the shelves stacked with boxes. Hugo, characteristically, remained silent, his wide, dark eyes drinking in everything around him, in a way that was wholly his own. He met Ollivander's eyes and his mouth tipped up in a shy smile.
'Just let me get the two of you measured, then...' Ollivander flicked his own wand at a couple of measuring tapes on the counter, and they floated up and began to unfurl as they headed toward the two children. 'Wand arm out, if you please.' Obediently, Lily held out her right and Hugo his left as the measuring tapes began to measure their arms. While they were being measured, Ollivander began to poke through the accumulated inventory. 'Hmmm. The two of you might be as difficult as your siblings to fit...' he mused. 'Most unusual combinations in this family.'
Ollivander pulled a box off the shelf. He lifted the lid off the top and presented the wand to Hugo. 'I think this one might suit you. Give it wave then.'
Hugo's fingers closed around the wand's handle and he took the wand out, and swished it through the air, feeling slightly foolish. Nothing happened.
'Guess not.' Ollivander quickly handed Hugo a different wand. 'Try this one.'
Hugo's fingertips tingled as he touched the wand, his eyes going wider as he glanced at his parents. 'Oh.' He lifted the wand from its bed of cotton wool and flicked it toward a vase of drooping flowers. Time reversed itself and the flowers regenerated until they looked as fresh as the day they'd been cut.
'Hmmmm.' Ollivander studied Hugo. 'Interesting. Not many witches or wizards can use olive wood.'
'Why?' Hugo asked.
'Because the wizard or witch who uses a wand of olive wood learns to master his emotions, young man,' Ollivander told Hugo, bending close to him, speaking in a near-whisper. 'You will feel them, but they won't control you.'
Hugo's brow swept up and his eyes flicked from the wand in his hand to Ollivander's shimmering eyes. 'That's useful,' he said mildly, setting the wand back into its box.
Ollivander's attention turned to Lily, who was giggling uncontrollably, as the measuring tape measured the space between her eyes, the length of her nose, the circumference of her wrist. 'All right, that's enough of that now,' he told the measuring tape. It flew back to the counter, coiling itself neatly. Ollivander gazed at Lily. 'I wonder...' he murmured. 'It's the only one of its kind we have ...' He climbed a tall, rickety-looking ladder and unearthed a box. Ollivander slid back down the sides of the ladder, and removed the top of the box. 'Try this one,' he said encouragingly.
Lily took the wand from the box and swept it in a wide arc in front of her. Brightly colored sparks flew from the tip and hung suspended in mid-air before fading slowly. 'Wicked,' she breathed.
'I thought as much,' Ollivander said in satisfaction.
Ginny reached over Lily's shoulder and ran a fingertip down the length of the wand. 'What makes this one so special?'
'It's made from rowan,' Ollivander stated. 'A most tempestuous wood.'
'Rowan?' blurted Rose. 'Seriously? Rowan?'
'Yes,' Ollivander replied placidly.
'Isn't rowan supposed to protect against witchcraft?' James asked doubtfully.
Ollivander smiled widely. 'In Muggle folklore, yes. But it's quite good for defensive magics.'
Harry jerked in surprise. 'Defensive magics?' he stammered, glancing down at Lily, who was seemingly unaware of the undercurrent of tension that coursed through the shop.
Ollivander nodded. 'And the core is from the tail of a centaur.'
'Which one?' Hermione asked.
'Ah, one called Ronan. A large chestnut fellow, I believe.'
'Ronan let you use a hair from his tail to make a wand?' Hermione asked in disbelief.
'Why, yes, he came to me.'
Harry eyed Lily, who was slowly becoming aware of everyone's attention on her. 'That doesn't mean she'll go into Divination, does it?' he asked, slight distaste in his voice.
Ollivander laughed, surprising them. 'Oh, not at all. The steadiness of the centaur's temperament balances the volatility of the rowan's.'
'That's a relief,' Ron muttered, nudging Harry in the ribs.
'You can say that again,' Harry retorted. He dug in his pocket for the money bag. 'How much?' he asked Ollivander.
James stood in line with Al, Hugo, Ron, and Harry, staggering slightly under the weight of his books for his fourth year. The longer he was in school, the thicker his textbooks became. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 was twice the size of last year's version. Professor Williams had added a book on methodology for potion-making as a supplement to the normal Potions book. His Arithmancy book was blessedly the same as last year's, but Professor Trentham had added another one to supplement their Transfiguration textbook. He heard Hugo sigh and glanced down at his younger cousin. His books were stacked in his arms so high; he had to peep around the edge of them to see. Ron held a similarly stacked pile of books. Those must be Lily's, James mused, his gaze turning to Al standing slightly behind him. He carried his books, as well as Rose's. They had the same books, except Rose had added Ancient Runes to her schedule and that book was depressingly thick; while Al had decided to take Arithmancy, he was also adding a class that initially seemed like a soft option, but upon seeing Al's textbook list for that class, James was slightly grateful he hadn't taken it. It was Quidditch Strategy and Advanced Flying Techniques. His books included a more detailed history of the game than Quidditch Through the Ages, a book on the best ways to fly for each position, and one on strategy and theory. Usually only students who were keen on playing professionally after school took that class. James knew Al was mad for Quidditch, but he hadn't realized how much.
'Hi, James.'
James jerked in surprise and dropped his books on his toes. 'Mmmmmph,' he squeaked, trying not to let the string of profanity on his lips find voice.
'Here, let me...' Maya knelt and gathered James' fallen books in her arms.
'Hi, Maya.' James blushed rosily and accepted the pile of books Maya laid in his outstretched arms.
She smiled at him. 'How's your summer been?'
James nearly dropped his books again. He glanced over his shoulder at his father and uncle, who were chatting about the joke shop, seemingly oblivious to the scene in front of them. 'All right, I guess.' He didn't want to talk about Harry's accident in public. It brought up memories of the Pensieve and those still made him queasy. He suddenly smiled shyly. 'Dad taught me how to shave without slitting my throat,' he confessed.
Maya giggled. 'That's a useful skill, that.' Her head tilted to the side as she examined James' face. 'Looks nice without all that moss growing over your lip.' Her eye caught something over James' shoulder. 'Better go. My mum's got my things rung up. See you on the train?'
James nodded, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 'Yeah.'
'Bye, James.'
'Bye, Maya...' James said faintly.
Beside him, Al snorted. 'That was smooth, James.'
James settled for huffing in disgust at his younger brother. His hands were too full to do anything.
James knelt on the floor in his bedroom, searching through his wardrobe. He'd already pulled everything out of the narrow bureau. Miscellaneous socks, boxer shorts, and pajama tops and bottoms lay strewn across the floor in mute testament to his searches. He yanked open a drawer in his wardrobe and pulled the tshirts out, running his hand over the inside of the drawer, his hand seeking blindly into the corners. He was so engrossed in his search; he didn't hear Ginny come upstairs. She leaned against the doorframe, watching James sift through the wardrobe in increasing frustration. 'Looking for something?' she asked.
James started and bumped his head on one of the wardrobe doors. Inhaling sharply, he pressed his lips together, and frantically rubbed the back of his head, breathing forcefully through his nose. 'Ennnnnnnnnnn. Bloody hell that hurt...' he moaned. He glared at his mother. 'Make some noise next time, would you?'
'I did,' Ginny said pointedly. 'What are you looking for?' She waved her wand over the piles of clothes. The neatly folded themselves and flew into stacks on James' bed. 'There. You have to put them away, though.' She perched on the edge of James' desk. 'Now then, what were you looking for?'
'It's nothing,' James mumbled, flushing.
'This is an awful lot of looking for nothing,' Ginny commented.
James glanced at the open door, then pushed himself to his feet and closed it. 'My dog,' he sighed. 'The little stuffed one I had when I was younger. It was black,' he added helpfully.
'I could swear you packed it up in a carton and put it in the attic the summer after your first year of school.'
'I did?' James asked incredulously.
'I think so. It was "childish", or so you claimed, to have it out.'
James opened the door, and darted into the corridor. He poked his head back into his bedroom. 'Thanks, Mum.'
'You're welcome, Jemmy. Oh, and I think you wrote your name on the carton.'
James dashed up the stairs to the attic, and opened the door that led to the part of the attic that had once been Teddy's room, but over the past few years, the detritus of the family had begun to creep back over into it. There was a small carton by the window, shoved under the sill, bearing James' name, written in his sprawling hand. He flipped the lid of the carton back, and his stuffed black dog sat forlornly in a corner of the carton, on top of several old issues of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle.
His hand reached down into the box, and tenderly closed around the ragged dog, thumb running over the nubby plush, where he'd worn it off by rubbing the ear between his thumb and first two fingers. He closed the carton and slipped down the stairs and into his bedroom. He set the dog on his bed, and turned to the task of putting his clothes away.
It wasn't so much that he was dying to unearth something of his childhood, when he was on the verge of becoming a man. Harry had approached him after they got home from Diagon Alley and said one word. Tomorrow. James knew without his father having to clarify that they were going to see the house where Harry had lived as a small child. The trip through Harry's memories had badly shaken James. He wasn't quite certain that the tour of the house would do it as well. Just the same, he wanted to be prepared this time, with something to dispel the images that flashed behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.
The dog had help soothe him when he was younger. James didn't see why it wouldn't work now.
'So...' Harry said quietly as he and James walked across Godric's Hollow. 'That was Maya, eh? At Flourish and Blotts yesterday.'
'Erm, yeah.' James' shoulders hunched.
'She seemed nice,' Harry commented.
'Yeah.'
'Think you might take her to the Three Broomsticks or something on a Hogsmeade weekend?'
'Maybe.'
Harry dropped the conversation thread, with a small smile. James' ears were burning, a sign that Harry should find something else to talk about. 'So, about the house...'
'How come I've never known about it?' James asked.
'Because I hid it,' Harry replied promptly. 'After the war. I wanted to try and fade into the background a bit, move on with my life, and the house had been something of an attraction since I was baby. It made me a bit... uncomfortable.' They passed the cemetery. 'When your mum and I moved here, right after you were born, I just kept the wards on it. So you three didn't find out about it all before I was ready for you to.'
'What about the statue?' James asked, jerking a thumb toward it. 'You didn't make an effort to hide that.'
'And how often did you pay attention to it?' Harry retorted.
'Not much,' James admitted. 'It was just one of those things that was here.'
Harry stopped at a ramshackle fence. 'We're here...'
'Dad, I don't see anything.'
'Just wait.' Harry pulled his wand from the sling and tapped the gate with it. It slowly opened and Harry led James through the opening. As soon as James' trainers cleared the threshold, the gate swung closed behind him.
James' eyes widened until a rim of white showed around the dark blue irises. The house rose in front of him. It resembled his own home -- weathered brick, ivy-covered walls, slate shingles on the roof. Except for one very large difference. This house had a sizeable portion of the upstairs blown away.
'Sure you want to do this?' Harry asked quietly.
'Yeah...' James nodded.
'I haven't been in here in years,' Harry mused. 'Not since I was eighteen.' He opened the front door and stepped inside. He motioned for James to go up the stairs. 'It's the second room on the right,' he told James. 'I'll be right behind you,' he assured his son.
'Is it safe?' James asked gruffly. At Harry's nod, James cautiously began to climb the stairs, sneezing a few times, as his feet stirred up puffs of dust from the carpet runner. He turned into the room and stood just inside the doorway.
The late summer breeze wafted through the blasted-out portion of the roof over the remains of a shattered cot. James walked slowly toward the cot and let his fingers trail over the jagged end of the top railing. He turned at the sound of Harry's footfalls. Harry got a good look at James' face in the fading light and grimaced. 'That is why I didn't want to say anything...' Harry said. 'I didn't want you to look at me like that...'
James shook his head slowly. 'Dad...' He took a deep breath. 'That's not it. I just can't imagine the kind of person that would attempt to kill a baby.' His fingertips traced the intricate swirls carved into the sides of the cot. 'That's why you do it, isn't it?'
'Do what?'
'Being an Auror. You could have done anything. Blimey, you could have played for bloody England or even Montrose. But you didn't pick the easiest job, did you?' He glanced at Harry. 'Why did you become an Auror?'
'It was what I wanted to do. From the time I was your age.' Harry looked around the room, noticing for the first time the faded prints that still hung on the undamaged walls. They were scenes from The Tale of Peter Rabbit. 'It wasn't because I didn't know what else to do with myself. You're right. I could have played Quidditch. Easily. I could have gone into the shop with your uncles. I could have even taken the DADA position at school, if I'd expressed interest in it.' He ran his hand through his hair. 'Your mother would argue that I became an Auror because I don't like people.' He snorted with laughter. 'Well, I don't trust people outside the family very easily. So she believes it's an outlet for my tendencies to see things that aren't there.' His lips twitched as a long-forgotten memory of how his suspicious nature had gotten him into trouble in the early days. 'But really, I don't like being the center of attention. And if I'd played professionally, I would have been exactly where I didn't want to be. And once the trials for the Death Eaters were over, I could sink into the kind of relative anonymity that I always wanted. I could be a regular bloke, with a regular job.' Harry laughed quietly. 'Believe me, all that sitting around, tailing Dark wizards in my early days guaranteed that.' Harry heaved a sigh. 'That, and trying to prevent this sort of evil from ever existing again.'
'How's that working out for you?' James asked, a hint of his customary irony lacing his voice.
'All things considered, pretty well,' Harry remarked. 'For the most part, it's been pretty peaceful. The person that did this... That's not evil.'
'How can that not be evil?' James scoffed. 'Looks pretty evil to me.'
'Because if he were truly evil, son, whoever did this would have killed me outright, and not bothered with this extremely treatable injury. It was kind of nice, in a way.'
James goggled at his father as if he'd announced he was going back to school to finish his seventh year. 'How was that nice?'
A wistful smile drifted over Harry's face. 'When I was unconscious, I think I dreamed about my parents... And my godfather.'
'You don't normally?'
Harry shook his head. 'Not really. Not since...' Harry trailed off, thinking. 'I mean, I talk to them all the time. But this time, it was like they were real...' His brows knit as he tried to catch the threads of those dreams. It's like they were trying to tell me something...
'Dad?' James gently prodded Harry in the ribs. 'You okay?'
Harry blinked and looked at James. 'Huh?'
'You all right?'
'Oh. Right. Yeah, I am. Ready to go?'
'Uh, sure, I suppose...' James followed Harry down the stairs. 'Why did you come here when you were eighteen?'
Harry glanced over his shoulder. 'Hadn't been inside before. Well, not that I remembered.'
James stopped in the middle of the sitting room. 'Had it changed at all?'
'Nope.' Harry joined James in a sitting room he'd seen in Riddle's memories. 'It's one of the reasons I put all the wards around it. I didn't want it to become some sort of museum.' Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably. 'I didn't want to see my parents' belongings pilfered and sold as artifacts. Or the cot.' He opened the front door and strode into the overgrown garden without a backward look.
James followed more slowly, the desire to engage in hero-worship warring with his need to comply with his father's wishes and put Harry's past behind them.
FORTY TWO -- End of the World
Daphne looked up from the pile of clothing she was sorting so she and Narcissa could make a list of what Scorpius might need to replace when they returned to England next week, a few days before September first. The loud knock repeated in a manner in which Daphne could only describe as imperious. The few people Narcissa knew in Nice didn't knock like that. She dropped one of Scorpius' ties into the laundry basket and walked to the front door of the villa to answer it. As the knock rang through the house again, Daphne muttered, 'I'm coming, all right? Get your knickers out of a twist...' She yanked open the door, and immediately she plastered a fake smile on her face. 'Pansy... How lovely to see you,' she murmured. She's probably not wearing any knickers to get in a twist in the first place, she thought snidely.
Pansy leaned forward, brushing air-kisses over each of Daphne's cheeks. 'Darling, it's been positively too long!' she exclaimed. She brushed past Daphne without waiting for an invitation to come inside.
Daphne's eyes closed and she took a deep breath. Dear God, I hope she doesn't stay for dinner... 'Do come inside,' she murmured politely. 'The terrace is this way, unless you prefer the sitting room...?'
'Sitting room, please, darling. How can you stand it here? Far too much sun! I have an image to maintain.'
Gritting her teeth, Daphne opened the doors that led to the cool shadows of the sitting room, and gestured for Pansy to precede her. 'Would you care for some tea?'
Pansy snorted. 'Tea?' She smirked. 'Well, all right then.'
'I'll just go and bring it up.'
Pansy laughed in derision. 'Don't you have a house-elf here?'
Daphne drew herself up, gathering all the dignity she could salvage. 'This isn't my house. It belongs to my motherin-law. She prefers not to employ one.' Daphne turned and stalked down to the kitchen.
She slammed the door open, making Narcissa squeak in surprise. Narcissa watched as her daughter-in-law threw open a cupboard and pulled out a tray, arranging cups and saucers on it, nearly slamming the china down to the tray. 'Something bothering you?' she asked mildly.
'Pansy's here,' Daphne said shortly, prying the lid off a tin of biscuits.
Narcissa frowned at the biscuits. She didn't remember making any of the spiced ones in recent memory. 'Daphne, how old are those biscuits?'
Daphne glanced down impatiently. 'Two Christmases ago. Scorpius' first year of school.'
'Those will be quite stale, won't they?' Narcissa picked up a biscuit and sniffed it cautiously.
Daphne filled the teakettle with water and tapped it with her wand. 'It's Pansy,' she huffed. 'Darling! I have a figure to maintain!' she mocked. 'She won't be having any.'
Narcissa poured the boiling water from the kettle into the teapot over the tea leaves she'd spooned into it. 'Would you like me to come up with you?'
'Would you mind terribly?' Daphne asked gratefully.
'Not at all.' Narcissa poured milk into the small creamer and flicked her wand toward the sugar bowl, making a neat pile of lumps appear. She gazed around the kitchen in dismay. 'Is she planning on staying for dinner?'
'Dear God, I hope not.' Daphne picked up the tray and backed through the swinging door. 'If she is, I'm not changing what we're having to suit Madame.' She paused as they walked down the corridor. 'She can bloody starve for all I care.' She followed Narcissa into the sitting room, smoothing her features into something she hoped was more neutral.
Narcissa greeted Pansy. 'Pansy, how nice to see you again.'
Pansy rose languidly and offered Narcissa her hand. 'I was on my way home to Paris from Florence, and I'd heard Draco was still here, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello.'
Narcissa's smile tightened a little. 'He's not here just now, but I can tell him you've asked after him.'
Pansy laughed gaily. 'Oh, that's all right. I don't have anything else planned. Blaise isn't due back in Paris for ages. Draco will be back later today, I suppose?'
Daphne unclenched her jaw long enough to mutter, 'Tea, Pansy?'
Pansy sighed dramatically. 'Well, if there isn't anything else... With lemon.'
Daphne refrained from spitting into Pansy's tea, and floated a paper-thin slice of lemon on the surface. 'Draco ought to be home by six,' she sighed.
'Lovely.' Pansy sipped her tea in seeming placidity. 'So,' she began, lowering her voice to a whisper, 'I hear that your son -- Scorpius, is it? -- is in Gryffindor. That's can't be true, can it?'
Daphne's fingers tightened on the handle of the pot, and it wavered slightly, spilling tea on the tray. 'It is.'
Pansy examined Daphne critically. 'Surely it must be something from your side of the family, darling. No disrespect, but you weren't exactly the epitome of a resident of Slytherin, were you?' A smile spread slowly over her face. 'Never could quite figure out what it was he saw in you to marry you.'
Daphne carefully set the pot back on the tray. 'At least I wasn't the type to --' She bit off the end of her angry retort. 'Scorpius is doing very well in school. Where he's been Sorted hardly matters.' She handed a cup of tea to Narcissa and poured one for herself. 'Did you come here to see Draco or are you in a strop about something and feel the need to take it out on my son?' she asked coolly.
Pansy laughed her brittle, tinkling laugh once more. 'Oh, darling! Please! I'm merely repeating the gossip that's going round our circle.'
Daphne set her cup on the tray and stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, I need to finish seeing to Scorpius' things.' She strode from the sitting room, knowing she was being rude, but unable to help herself. She couldn't stand Pansy's company longer than five minutes. She shoved the kitchen door open and picked up the abandoned laundry basket. 'I'd rather be an unconventional mother than a slag that bangs anything in trousers,' she muttered. From their fourth year to seventh, Pansy had systematically worked her way through every Slytherin boy fourth year or above. Well, every Slytherin boy that was interested in girls, that is.
'Mother?' Scorpius poked his head cautiously through the kitchen door. 'Who's that lady in the sitting room with Grandmother?'
Daphne held up a jumper against Scorpius, eyeing it to see if he could wear it for another year. 'Somebody we went to school with,' she said wearily. 'Something of a family friend.'
Scorpius clambered up to a tall stool by the heavy table in the middle that his mother and grandmother used to prepare meals. 'If she's a friend, then why did Grandmother shoo me away from the room?'
Daphne held out a pair of trousers to Scorpius. 'Hold these up to you. We'll need to see if we need to get you some new ones next week.' Scorpius obediently slid off the stool and held up the trousers with a raised eyebrow. He'd put on a good deal of height the past year. 'Guess not.' She took the trousers from him and replied, 'She's not really that much of a friend.'
'Oh.'
'If she stays for dinner, you don't have to eat with us. I'll bring you a tray in your room, if you want.'
Scorpius chewed his lip thoughtfully. If he had a tray in his room, it meant a long, solitary night without the promise of taking a nice walk through the city with his grandmother after dinner. However, he'd overheard the plummy tones of the visitor's voice and cringed at her cloyingly empty conversation. The prospect of spending the evening trapped with that voice turned his stomach. 'I'll eat in my room,' he decided.
'I wish I could join you,' Daphne said wryly.
Daphne rubbed her temples in the enveloping silence of the dining room. Pansy's inane chattering drawl had disappeared down the corridor with Draco. A soft thump made her look up. Narcissa had set a snifter of cognac on the table in front of her. 'How did you survive for seven years in the same dormitory with her?' she asked tiredly.
Daphne picked up the snifter and gently swirled it before taking a sip. 'I do not know.'
Narcissa picked up her own glass and studied Daphne's drawn face for a moment. 'How long?' she asked bluntly, well aware of Pansy's reputation.
'Most of our fifth year of school, and a good part of the sixth. At least through Christmas.' Daphne's lips stretched into a smirk. 'And they picked up a year after the war, and up to the day before our wedding.' She took a long sip of the brandy before continuing. 'I think he might have preferred her to me, but obviously, with her reputation...' Daphne's shoulders rose and fell in a delicate shrug. 'I was the one that looked good in public.' She sighed with a hint of resignation. 'Believe me, Narcissa; I'm under no illusions about my... marriage...'
Narcissa pushed her chair away from the table. 'Come on, then. We can leave this until later,' she said, indicating the remains of dinner on the table. She picked up her glass and led Daphne toward the terrace. 'Might as well enjoy the last of the summer.'
The sound of voices from Draco's study made Daphne stop. No... Not here... She took a few steps toward the partially open door and peered through the gap. Pansy had Draco backed up against his desk. Draco's hands were braced on the top of the desk behind him, and he smiled at Pansy with an odd sort of expression Daphne had never seen.
'Come on, Draco,' Pansy purred. 'It'll be like old times.' Draco remained silent, but his head cocked to one side. 'You can't tell me that pathetic weed actually satisfies you, can you? I'm sure she doesn't do for you what I will do.' She worked the flies of his trousers open and slid hand into them. Draco's breath caught slightly, but he gave no outward indication of whether or not he enjoyed her attentions, nor gave her any encouragement to continue.
The glass slipped from Daphne's nerveless fingers and shattered on the parquet floor at her feet. Draco's eyes turned toward the door and he saw Daphne standing open-mouthed in the corridor. 'Daphne...' he said harshly, pushing Pansy away. Daphne turned to the stairs and began to run up to her bedroom. 'Damn you, Daphne, wait!' His hand closed around her wrist in a crushing grip.
Daphne pulled at her wrist, unable to loosen Draco's hand. Her other one rose and flew through the air, landing with a resounding crack in the still house. Startled, Draco released her wrist and raised his hand to his stinging cheek. 'Next time, close the bloody door!' Daphne spat softly. 'We'll be leaving first thing in the morning,' she said over her shoulder as she stalked up the rest of the stairs.
Draco's shoulders slumped and he dropped to a riser of the stairs. Narcissa stood at the foot of the stairs, gazing at him in silent disapproval. 'Even your father didn't have the gall to do that while I was in the house,' she said quietly, with all the force of the blow Daphne had just laid on him.
Lily ran into Al's room, and bounced excitedly on the bed. 'Al, wake up! It's September first!' she yelled.
'Unh...?' Al's eyes opened slowly and he gazed with extreme distaste upon his baby sister. He glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed and glared at Lily. 'Lily. It. Is. Five. In. The. Morning.'
His ire was lost on Lily who continued to bounce on the foot of Al's bed. 'So?'
'So we don't have be up for at least another two hours,' Al grumbled, pulling the pillow from under his head and dropping it on his face. He picked up the pillow and looked more closely at Lily. 'Are you dressed in your uniform already?' he asked incredulously.
'Uh-huh.'
'I don't think even Rosie did that...' Al muttered. He sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes. 'Lils, unless you want to sit by yourself on the train, I suggest you let me go back to sleep. I don't care what you do, just let me have my two hours,' he begged.
'Fine,' Lily huffed, sliding off the end of James' bed. She left his room, and stood in the corridor, her hands on her hips. She had washed, dressed, made her bed, and, mindful of what her mother would say before the left for the station, checked to make sure all her things were in her trunk. She went downstairs and found her trunk in the scullery, next to Al's and opened it. 'Cloak, coat, jumpers, shoes, tights, skits, trousers, knickers, soap, shampoo, books, potions kit, telescope, cauldron, trainers... Oh!' She darted up the stairs, and ran into her room. Her wand lay in its box on her desk. She opened the lid and ran a reverent finger over the chestnut-hued wood. She hadn't understood the conversation that flew over her head when they'd gone to buy it, but she did know it was special. Unique. Ollivander said hers was the only one like it. She closed the lid and fastened the tiny brass clasp and carried it down into the scullery, tenderly placing it into her trunk.
Her small barn owl, Darcy, sat on the perch in his cage, watching her curiously. He sidled closer to the side of the cage and tilted his head toward her in an obvious ploy to be petted. She reached through the bars and obligingly scratched the top of his head, making Darcy's eyes drift shut in pleasure. If anything, Darcy reminded her of Teddy's owl, in that both of them shamelessly begged for attention. Last night, Harry had pronounced Darcy to be the most spoiled owl in Britain.
Ginny shuffled into the scullery, tying the belt of her dressing gown into a careless knot. 'Lily, do you know what time it is?'
'Um...' Lily looked around wildly. 'I don't know,' she said sheepishly.
'Try your watch.'
Lily glanced at her wrist. It was half-past five. 'But I don't want to be late.'
Ginny rubbed her hand over her face. 'All right. Give me fifteen minutes, all right? Let me go get washed, and you and I will have breakfast together. Just the two of us.' She walked back upstairs, chuckling softly, remembering how excited she had been to start Hogwarts her first year. She swiftly pinned up her hair and ducked into a hasty shower. When she pulled the curtain back, Harry stood in front of the toilet, squinting at it nearsightedly. 'Try lifting the lid, genius,' she told him.
'Oh, right...' He bent and lifted the lid. 'Which one is up already?'
'Take a guess,' Ginny said, pulling her clothes on.
'Lily?'
'Yep.'
'Why are you up?' Harry asked, blindly patting for the handle.
'I can't sleep, either,' Ginny confessed.
'Hm.' Harry flushed the toilet and sketchily washed his hands. 'You have no idea how incredible it feels to use both hands to have a slash,' he mumbled sleepily.
'Oh, that's just lovely,' Ginny groaned. 'Have you taught the boys to say that, too?'
'Not yet.' Harry tipped up Ginny's chin and he kissed her. 'Give me some time. By the time they finish school, they'll have heard every bad or off-color word and phrase I know.'
'Right. I'm just going to go back downstairs now...'
'I'll be down in a bit,' Harry yawned.
'Take your time,' Ginny said. 'The two of us are going to have a nice, quiet breakfast. Without boys.' Harry grunted and crawled back into the warmth of their bed. 'I'll wake you in an hour,' she told him.
'Okay...' Harry sighed and burrowed into the quilt.
Ginny stole back down the stairs and returned to the kitchen, where Lily was loading slices of bread into the toaster. 'What do you want besides toast?'
'I'm too excited to eat!' Lily whispered, wide-eyed.
'Oh, trust me, Lils; you'll want to eat something. It's a long trip up to Hogsmeade and unless you eat the lunch I've packed for you and your brothers, you won't get much of anything besides sweets until dinner. And that'll be oh... seven or seven-thirty.'
'Cereal is all right.'
'Are you sure? I'll make anything you want.'
Lily shook her head. 'Just cereal.'
Ginny took a box of cereal out of the pantry and handed it to Lily. 'I could barely eat breakfast my first day,' she commented. 'It was finally my turn, after watching Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron all go. When I was five, I tried to get Bill to sneak me on the train in his trunk.'
Lily poured cereal into a bowl and glanced up at Ginny. 'Did it work?'
Ginny set a bowl of grapes on the table. 'Sadly, no. He just laughed and patted me on the head,' she said with a slight scowl. She flicked her wand at a cupboard and a small pot landed on the table at her elbow. She poured milk into it, and with another flick, cocoa and sugar were added to it. She tapped her wand against the side of the pot and in seconds, warm chocolaty steam wafted from the spout. She poured a cup of hot chocolate for Lily. 'You're never going to have another first day of school like this...' she sighed wistfully.
Lily spooned a few mouthfuls of cereal into her mouth. 'I'll bet James and Al never did this...'
'What? Woke us all up at the crack of dawn?' Lily nodded. Ginny chortled over her cereal. 'The night before James left the first time, he slept in the scullery. On top of his trunk. He was sitting on it, hair in a shambles, when your father and I woke up.' She pulled a grape off the stem. 'Al... Let me see... Al was awake at six, and sitting in the car, waiting for the rest of us. He'd managed to drag his trunk out the door and next to the boot.' She reached over and smoothed Lily's hair from her face. 'You're not doing anything differently, sweetie.' Ginny's hand moved to cover her mouth as she yawned widely. 'You're the first one to wake up so early, though.'
'See? I told you we'd make it on time.' Harry loaded Lily's trunk onto a trolley with James and Al's trunks. 'Twenty minutes to spare.'
'You're lucky we weren't stopped by the police,' Ginny retorted, doling out owls to the children. 'International Quidditch-standard brooms aren't good enough for you?'
Harry merely smiled at her, and began to push the trolley through King's Cross. 'James, you go through first, then Al,' he called toward the two boys, who were racing through the station.
'Okay, Dad...' came James' faint reply.
By the time Harry, Ginny, and Lily made their way to the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, James and Al had already disappeared through it. 'You want to go through alone, or let Mum take you through?' Harry asked.
Lily rolled her eyes. 'I can go through, Dad. I've been doing it for four years.'
'Touché,' Harry murmured. 'Let your mum go through first.'
He watched as Ginny, then Lily casually leaned against the barrier, then pretended to dig through his pockets for something, and pushed the trolley through the barrier. He was immediately swarmed by children. Fred and James heaved James' trunk off the trolley and lugged it onto the train. Jacob helped Al drag his off the trolley and into one of the compartments.
'I'll get it.' Teddy reached down and hefted Lily's trunk into his arms. 'I'd swear they bewitched these at the shop, so the average fourteen-year old can drag it onto the train as fast as he can without being encumbered by parental units.'
'That's probably the general idea,' Harry agreed, gingerly massaging his still-tender left shoulder. He nudged Lily. 'Go show Teddy where you're going to sit,' he told her.
'She's sitting with us, Dad!' Al yelled from the train.
'Really?' Harry's eyebrows rose into his fringe. 'When did that happen?'
'No idea,' Ginny murmured. 'But who are we to question it?' she laughed.
'Hey,' Ron panted. 'How much time?' he gasped.
'Ten minutes,' Harry told him. 'Al and Lily are in the fifth compartment from the end.'
'Brilliant,' Ron rasped.
'Here, let me give you a hand with those,' George appeared through a gap in the crowd. He glanced at Harry. 'Still on limited activity?'
'Yeah.'
George grimaced. 'For how long?' He scanned the crowd for a moment. 'Oi! Fred, Jacob! Come here and grab your cousin's trunk, eh?'
'Okay, Dad!' Jacob's head poked through a window. 'Be just a mo! Sophie's bloody cat got out!'
'I hate that animal,' George sighed. 'I don't know what possessed Katie to agree to get Soph a cat for her birthday.'
'What's wrong with it?' Harry asked, baffled.
'It's psychotic,' George replied bluntly. 'Chases after invisible dust. Goes barmy when the wind changes direction. Oddly enough, it doesn't mind thunderstorms.'
Fred skidded to halt next to his father and two uncles, sporting a long scratch down the back of his hand. 'I hate that cat,' he grumbled. 'I swear Sophie picked the most insane cat in the shop.'
Al joined them, busily brushing cat hair from his shirt. 'That cat...' He grabbed a handle. 'Rosie and Hugo're going in with Lily and me.'
Teddy stood inside the train, his arms wrapped around Lily. 'Take care of yourself, pumpkin. And if you need anything, just let me know.'
'I will,' Lily promised.
'I'm going to miss you,' he told her. 'What am I going to do on Saturday nights when Vic has to study?'
'Read a book?' Lily suggested.
Teddy sighed exaggeratedly. 'I suppose. Guess if I want blue nail varnish, I'll have to do it myself...'
'I'll be home at Christmas,' Lily insisted.
'Help!' came a strangled voice from the door. Scorpius' red, sweaty face bobbed in the opening.
'When did you get back?' Teddy asked, tugging Scorpius' trunk into the train.
'Last week,' Scorpius said. 'Weren't supposed to come back until day before yesterday, but Mother woke me up at the crack of dawn one morning last week and said we were leaving in an hour. Would have sent an owl, but she left hers at Grandmother's.'
'Come on, we're in here,' Lily said, pulling Scorpius down the corridor to their compartment.
Ginny stood next to Hermione, their arms wound around each other's waists. 'So Ron forgot to set the alarm clock, and we were up late last night trying to get Rose and Hugo's things packed, and we just overslept.'
'That doesn't sound like you,' Ginny said with a frown.
Hermione shrugged. 'Been with Mum a lot last week,' she said quietly. 'She's been having a difficult time.'
'I'm sorry,' Ginny said, her arm tightening a little. 'If we can do anything...'
Hermione leaned into Ginny. 'You'll be the first ones I call.'
Lily barreled off the train and ran headlong into Ginny. Her arms wrapped around Ginny's waist. 'Bye, Mum.'
Ginny returned her daughter's embrace. 'Bye, Lils. Send an owl in the morning and let us know how you are.'
'Okay.' The engine's shrill whistle rent the crisp September morning.
'Go on, and get on the train.' Ginny sniffed and blinked several times. Lily ran back to the train, and clambered aboard. She reappeared at a window, her nose pressed to the glass. Ginny waved at Lily, feeling Harry's arm slide around her shoulders. The train disappeared around the bend, and Ginny felt the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes spill down her cheeks.
Harry pressed his lips to the top of her head. 'She'll be okay,' he told her, in a conscious echo of what she'd said to him the day Al left for school the first time.
'I know,' Ginny said shakily.
'You two have anywhere to be today?' Ron asked, his eyes still fixed on the path the train had taken, standing on the other side of Hermione, who was wiping tears away with a handkerchief Ron handed her.
'No.' Harry shook his head.
'Want to come to our flat and commiserate that all our babies are gone?' Ron muttered.
Harry took a deep breath. 'Yeah.'
A/N: 'Slash' is a British euphemism for urinate.
FORTY THREE -- Truth or Dare
Hermione dropped to the sofa, and kicked her shoes off. She glanced around the sitting room, and rubbed a hand over her face. 'It's too quiet...' she mused.
'Yeah,' Ron agreed.
'So this is how Mum felt when I finally left,' Ginny added with a sigh.
Harry ran his hand through his hair. 'You know, when I bought the house before James was born, I wasn't thinking about how big it was going to seem when they all went to school.'
Ginny yawned widely, turning her face into Harry's shoulder. 'Lily woke me up at five,' she explained.
Ron frowned a little. 'I wonder what Ollivander meant with the wands...'
'Maybe it just means a Weasley isn't going to go through a good portion of his life in a strop over something,' suggested Hermione. 'Your family is quite temperamental.'
'And you're not?' snorted Harry.
'And you've been part of it for how long now?' Ginny chuckled. 'Since you were what? Twelve? Thirteen?'
'Yeah, Hermione. You and Ron aren't exactly each other's polar opposites,' Harry added.
'So says Mr. Serenity,' huffed Hermione, a smile playing over her lips.
'Right,' interjected Ron. 'And we've all been on the bad side of Gin's temper.'
'You know,' Harry began thoughtfully, 'there is Percy... He's got a nice tight rein on his temper...'
'No he hasn't,' chimed Ginny and Ron at the same time.
'He's just learned to hide it well,' Ginny said. 'It's why he acts like there's a fireplace poker up his bum.'
'Hugo always was on the placid side,' murmured Hermione. 'Even when he was a baby. Used to worry me a little when he started teething and didn't really get fussed about it.'
'You know who he reminds me of?' Ron asked.
'Who?' Hermione gave Ron a quizzical glance.
'Your dad.'
Hermione's mouth tipped up in a slight smile. 'Yeah...' Her face grew pensive. 'I do hope he's managed to sit facing forward on the train...'
'Ugh. Right...' Ron shuddered dramatically. Hugo had thrown up rather violently on Ron on the Underground one day, when they'd only been able to get seats facing backward.
Hermione glanced at Harry. 'About Lily...'
'What about Lily?' Harry asked, suddenly feeling exhausted.
'Her wand,' Ginny finished. 'What he said about it being good for defensive magics...'
Ron chewed his lip. 'You don't think...?' He shook his head. 'Nah...'
'Think what?' Harry leaned forward. 'That something's going to come up?' he asked tensely. 'Because why else would a centaur donate a hair from his tail?' He traced the weave of Hermione and Ron's sofa. 'Do you remember our first year? When we met the centaurs in the Forest and they kept talking about Mars being bright and how the innocents were the first to die?'
'Yeah.' Ron closed his eyes.
'They were predicting the war...' Hermione said.
'Yeah, we know that now,' Ron huffed.
Hermione shook her head. 'No, I should have known then. In ancient Roman mythology, Mars was the god of war. I can't believe I didn't think of that...' She burrowed a little closer to Ron. 'I'm not sure what to make of it, and I'm not sure the wand elements aren't merely a balancing act.' She shrugged a little. 'I don't know much about wand lore. Well, as much as the average person. Some of it's a little too much like Divination for my taste.'
'It's going to be so odd tomorrow morning,' Ginny murmured. 'Nobody to get up, washed, and dressed for school. No homework to check...'
'God, we haven't had a truly leisurely morning in fifteen years...' Harry said quietly. He suddenly sat up straight with a gasp. 'James!'
'What about James?' Ginny asked in narrow-eyed suspicion.
'I'll tell you later...' Harry mumbled, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. 'Something I forgot to do in all the fuss over everything else...'
Ginny sighed and rubbed her temples tiredly. 'Please tell me he didn't do anything stupid...'
Harry shifted uncomfortably. 'No, he didn't do anything. I just meant to corner him before he went back to school and have a nice chat with him.'
'What kind of chat?' Ron asked interestedly.
'The kind of chat one needs to have when your son begins to notice girls.' Harry made a face. 'Did you see the one that talked to him at Flourish and Blotts?'
Ron's expression clouded momentarily. 'Wait, do you mean the small one? With all the dark hair?'
'Yeah.' Harry grinned a little. 'Maya.'
'Surely it can wait until Christmas,' Hermione said. 'I mean there aren't that many places at school where...' She trailed off. 'Right. Maybe it can't wait until Christmas...'
Harry chewed his lip for a moment. 'I have to go up next month and start working with the seventh years,' he mused. 'I could end it a bit early and have him meet me...'
Ron sighed dramatically. 'I'm so glad I won't have to do that for a while...'
Ginny snorted and poked Ron in the knee with her toes. 'Give it a bit. He'll start stashing lingerie mags under his mattress soon enough.'
Ron glanced at Ginny. 'Do you think Mum and Dad sit at home and laugh at us now that our kids are putting us through what we did to them?'
Hermione laughed. 'What do you mean "now"? They've been laughing at us since we had kids.'
Lily bounced a little on the seat next to Hugo. 'Do you think we'll both go into Gryffindor?' she asked.
'Maybe.' Hugo's lips barely opened. His eyes were tightly shut against the rugged scenery rushing past the window. The train flew around a curve and a small moan hummed through his lips.
Rose suddenly stood on a seat and yanked her schoolbag down from the overhead rack. 'Mum thought you might need this.' She flipped her bag open and pulled a vial out from a small inside pocket. 'Here.' She handed him the vial, filled with clear golden liquid.
Hugo blindly patted until he encountered Rose's outstretched hand, and pried the vial from her fingers. He pulled the cork from the mouth and lifted the vial to his lips and managed to drink the contents. Slowly, he opened his eyes and glanced around the compartment. 'Thanks,' he mumbled to Rose.
'Better?' she asked.
'Yeah,' he sighed. He turned to Lily. 'We could end up in different Houses than them,' he told her indicating Al and Rose. 'Siblings don't always end up in the same House.'
'Why is that?' Scorpius asked curiously.
'Dunno. Mum's told me about a pair of identical twins in her year that were Sorted into different houses.' Hugo shrugged and grunted when Lily's elbow glanced off his ribcage. He threw her a slightly annoyed glance, but didn't say anything.
'Here, Lily,' Scorpius nudged her. 'Why don't you take the window for a bit?' He stood up to let her scoot down the seat and dropped between her frenetic anticipation and Hugo, who flashed a grateful smile.
'Dad said it was the choices you make,' Al said offhandedly.
Hugo frowned. 'What happens if who you are now isn't who you are later...?'
'Lily, are you hungry yet?' James peered around the open door of the compartment, a small carrier bag dangling form his fingers. He looked inside the bag. 'Mum made an egg salad sandwich for you,' he said enticingly.
'I'm too excited to be hungry!' Lily exclaimed.
Al peeked into the bag. 'Ew. Mum even packed those barmy cheese and onion crisps you like so much.'
'That sounds disgusting,' Scorpius muttered.
'They're brilliant,' Lily told him loftily.
'You'd better eat, Lily,' Scorpius said. 'Dinner's a long way off.'
'Oh, all right. Fine.' She took the bag James held out to her and pulled out the crisps. She ripped them open and held the packet out to Scorpius. 'Want to try them?'
Scorpius looked dubiously inside. 'Cheese and onion...?'
'Yep.' Lily grinned, her face alit with glee.
'All right...' Scorpius reached inside and pulled out a crisp, holding it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. He sniffed it cautiously, before biting into the crisp. 'Interesting...'
'You don't have to say that,' Al chortled, watching Scorpius' face. 'You can be honest with her. Nobody else in the family likes them.'
'You don't know what you're missing,' Lily told Al blissfully, cramming two into her mouth.
'Yes. I do...' Al reached into the carrier bag and pulled out an apple. 'Make sure you eat this, too. Mum will have a fit if you're not eating properly.' He polished it on his sleeve. 'And believe me, she'll find out if all you're eating is cake and biscuits.'
Lily paused in the act of unwrapping her sandwich. 'Why? Did you try it?'
'No, but I did,' James told her. 'Barely escaped a Howler. Mum made me go to the dentist when I came home for Christmas hols my first year.'
'That's just as bad,' Lily said with a grimace.
'What did Ollivander tell you when you got your wand?' Scorpius asked Lily.
'It was kind of weird,' she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. She swallowed and gestured to her trunk. 'It's rowan,' Lily told him. 'With a hair from the tail of a centaur. Aunt Hermione seemed to know him, too.' She accepted a bottle of butterbeer from Al and took a long sip.
'Rowan...?' Scorpius asked, askance. 'That's not a normal wand tree.'
'So?' Lily shrugged.
'So it's just a bit strange, that's all.' Scorpius absently reached into the packet of crisps and pulled one out, munching it thoughtfully. 'Might mean nothing. Maybe Ollivander was just trying something new.' He grinned at Lily. 'I read up on wand lore over the summer. They used to use rowan in the Middle Ages. Mostly because the Muggles thought it would protect them from witchcraft and they'd pin rowan twigs to their clothes, so when a witch or wizard carried one, they blended in. But really, the only ones who used it were the ones who primarily practiced defensive spells.'
Rose's eyebrow arched. 'Really?' She glanced at Lily. 'Maybe you'll be an Auror, like Uncle Harry.'
Lily shook her head, making her bright plait dance across her back. 'No. I want to play Quidditch like Mum.'
'Then maybe it's to keep you from falling off your broom in matches,' Al hooted.
'I haven't fallen off my broom in ages,' Lily sniffed derisively. She turned to Scorpius, clearly dismissing her brother. 'What's yours made of?'
'Maple.' Scorpius pulled it out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. 'Said it was good for difficult magic. The intellectual kind.' Scorpius slid his wand back into his pocket and gave Lily a small grin.
'Does the wand help, then?' Lily asked.
Scorpius' grin grew wider. 'When I find out, you'll be the first to know.'
'Firs' years!' Hagrid's voice boomed over the train platform.
Hugo's face lit up. 'Bye, Rosie,' he said, as he hopped off the train, darting through the crowds toward Hagrid. 'See you later.'
'Don't get all broken up about it!' Rose called to Hugo's retreating back.
'Now, then, Lily Nymphadora,' James intoned seriously. 'Remember, the family pride rests on your shoulders. If you go into Hufflepuff, Al and I can never hold our heads up again.'
Lily gasped. 'Don't use my middle name, James Sirius!'
'Oh, for the love of Godric, could someone just call me Albus Severus and get it over with?' Al sighed.
'Okay.' Scorpius cleared his throat. 'Albus Severus, you need to hurry up and get on a carriage so you don't get left behind. Is that good enough?'
'Perfect.' Al smiled reassuringly at Lily. 'No worries, Lils. We'll see you in the Great Hall.' Impulsively, Al reached for Lily and hugged her tightly. 'Doesn't matter what happens in there, Lily.' He gently pushed her toward the waiting boats. 'Go on.' He took a step back and stood next to James, watching Lily dash to the boat holding Hugo and the place he'd saved for her.
Lily clambered into the boat with Hugo. 'Are you nervous?' she asked softly.
Hugo nodded. 'Yeah,' he replied, just as quietly. 'I am.'
The boat rocked wildly as Hagrid shifted. 'Don' worry. The two of yeh'll go into Gryffindor, like yer parents.'
'How can you be so sure?' Hugo asked skeptically.
'There's a hun'red ways t' be brave,' Hagrid told him. 'Doesn' always mean fightin' an' all that. Sometimes, it's bein' willin' t' try somethin' new or do somethin' unexpected.'
'How do you know so much?' Lily asked, snuggling next to Hagrid. It was quite chilly on the Black Lake.
Hagrid's laugh boomed over the water. 'When yer as old as I am, yeh pick up a thin' or two.'
The boat floated to a soft bump on the shore, and Hagrid got out and helped Lily, then Hugo to the shore. He waited for the other first years to gather around him, then led them up the wide stone stairs to the entrance to the Great Hall. He knocked on the door, and stepped aside, with a wink and a smile to Hugo and Lily. 'Firs' years, Professor Longbottom,' he announced.
Neville grinned widely at the group of frightened-looking children. Almost all of them... he thought wryly, noting Lily and Hugo's shining faces. 'If you'll follow me, he told them, ushering them into the Great Hall, between the long tables toward a tall stool, topped with a battered hat. After the hat sang a song that relegated the history of Hogwarts and exhorted them to work in harmony. Neville pulled a list from the pocket of his robes. 'Ashley, Daria.'
A tiny girl climbed up to the stool and Neville dropped the hat over her shiny blonde hair. In a moment, the Hat called out, 'Hufflepuff!'
Lily gazed around the Hall, spotting James and Al, waiting anxiously for her turn to come. She waved at them, and Al waved weakly back. In several minutes, Neville called, 'Potter, Lily.' She strode to the stool and slid onto it. Neville set the hat down on her head and she was enveloped in darkness.
'Ah, another Potter...' the Hat seemed to sigh. 'Hmmmm. You're like your father. Difficult to place... Enough deviousness to be dangerous. But not enough for Slytherin. Friendly enough, but you're not a Hufflepuff. Bright, goodness yes, and you want to learn, but there's an overwhelming desire to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye, just because you can. Just like your mother.' The hat chuckled. 'You won't be happy anywhere but... Gryffindor!'
Lily pulled the hat off her head and laughed, running to join her brothers at the Gryffindor table. She slid into a seat next to Al.
Hugo gave Lily a smile and quietly waited for his turn. He found Rose and winked impudently at her. Rose rolled her eyes. Hugo was far too much like their father sometimes. In time, Neville's voice said, 'Weasley, Hugo.' Hugo walked up to the stool, his stride unhurried, and his face outwardly calm.
He hoisted himself to the top of the stool and blinked as the hat fell over his eyes. 'More Weasleys,' a dry voice said, with a hint of a chuckle. 'Smart like your mother and diffident like your father. But you don't want to do anything like either of them. Very much your own person, even now. Such independence deserves... Gryffindor!' Hugo pulled the Hat off his head with a sigh of relief and headed to the table to join Lily.
Lily followed Rose, Al, and Scorpius up the stairs, with Hugo at her side. 'Watch out for the trick step,' Rose said over her shoulder.
'What trick step?' Lily asked, a second before she squeaked in surprise and found herself staring at Al and Scorpius' knees.
They each reached down and grasped Lily's elbows. 'That trick step,' Scorpius told her.
'Do you think anybody saw?' Lily asked in a scandalized whisper.
'Oh, only the entire House,' James told her. 'But it's okay. Tomorrow morning, some other firstie will fall into it and it'll be old news.'
'Thanks,' Lily muttered, her ears turning pink.
They managed to find the painting of the Fat Lady that guarded Gryffindor tower without further incident and a prefect directed the first years into their dormitory. Lily found her trunk at the foot of one of the beds in the round room, and opened it, looking for a pair of pajamas. Her beloved bunny lay curled in the middle with a piece of folded parchment underneath, bearing her name written in Ginny's round, neat hand. Lily lifted Cadbury from the trunk, and set him on the foot of the bed and picked up the parchment. The edges parted with a soft whisper and Lily unfolded the parchment, curiosity overcoming any weariness she might have felt. She perched on the bed, next to her bunny and began to read.
31 August 2019
Dear Lily,
This is something of a tradition. Your dad did it for James and Al, and it's my turn to do it for you...
Daphne didn't mind being in the empty manor alone. It wasn't that much different than when Draco was home, considering their paths rarely crossed beyond meals. But left to her own devices, she quickly became bored. With Scorpius in school, and Draco still away in Nice, she found little excuse to socialize, and preferred it that way. She spent several days tending to the flowerbeds that surrounded the manor. Perri might have been an excellent cook and kept the house looking immaculate, but she wasn't very good as a gardener. Admittedly, it wasn't her fault. The garden was Daphne's domain and she stubbornly insisted on keeping it that way. But once the beds had been cleaned, weeded and coaxed back into the formal lines Draco deemed necessary, she was a something of a loose end. Reading, normally her refuge in a time of idleness, held no appeal. Reading allowed a corner of her brain to replay the scene in Draco's study over and over again. So one morning, she rummaged through her bureau and unearthed an ancient pair of jeans and found a pair of elderly plimsolls in the back of the wardrobe. She bundled her hair into a messy bun and went into the kitchen.
Perri was standing on a tall stool, busily polishing the family silver at the scrubbed table in the middle of the spotless kitchen. 'Good morning, Mistress Daphne!' she squeaked, rubbing at a stubborn spot on a fork.
Daphne laid a hand on the teapot in the middle of the table. It was warm. She poured herself a cup and perched on another stool. 'Perri, you don't have to call me mistress,' she sighed. It was a long-standing, albeit mild, disagreement between them. 'Daphne is fine. Mrs. Malfoy, if you insist. But I'm merely your employer, not your owner.'
Perri gave Daphne a longsuffering glance, then sighed and carefully laid the fork into its slot in the velvet-lined case. 'My mother said it is not being respectful to not say mistress.'
Daphne shook her head. They had the same argument nearly every morning. 'Have we a pail anywhere?'
Perri eyed Daphne. 'What is you needing a pail for?' she asked suspiciously.
'I'm going to scrub the floors and baseboards behind the furniture upstairs,' Daphne admitted.
Perri's large eyes filled with tears, and she twisted the polishing cloth between her long fingers. 'Is Perri not satisfying you, Mmmmm... Mrs. Daphne?' She sniffed, wiping her nose on the edge of a tea towel.
'Oh, Perri, no... It's just I need something to do, or else I'll run mad.'
Perri climbed off the stool and marched into the scullery. She emerged with a pail and scrub brush. She silently handed them to Daphne with a slight sniff of disapproval. 'The master won't be liking it,' she muttered.
Daphne took them from Perri with a slight snort. 'The master isn't here,' she retorted. 'And I don't care what he likes or doesn't like.' She turned to leave the kitchen. 'Thank you.'
Draco brushed the latch of the ornate wrought iron front gate with his fingers and swung open under his touch. He trudged up the walk to the door, hardly noticing the neat asters that lined the walk. He didn't suppose Daphne had come home, but she wasn't at her sister Astoria's house, nor was she with Ian. A few discreet inquiries had solved that particular mystery. He opened the front door and walked inside, carelessly dropping his bag just inside the door. A muffled thump from upstairs made him frown and he slowly climbed the stairs until he came to the bedroom where Narcissa slept when she came to visit them. The furniture had been moved to the middle of the room, and the expensive rug rolled up. Daphne was on her knees, scrubbing the floor. 'What the hell are you doing?' he exploded.
Daphne straightened up and dropped the brush into the pail with a splash. 'I'll bet you don't mind if Pansy's on her knees,' she muttered, pulling the brush out once more.
'Nothing happened,' Draco insisted.
All of a sudden, Daphne heaved the brush at him. It sailed through the air, trailing dirty water behind it and slammed into his forehead, between his eyes. 'How could you?' she screamed.
'Ow!' Draco's hand pressed into his skull, over the throbbing ache the brush had left. 'Nothing happened!' he repeated.
Daphne got to her feet. 'Oh?' she asked archly. 'Then why was her bloody hand inside your trousers? Or did she just trip and it landed there by accident?'
'I'm telling you the truth!' Draco hissed. He began to laugh harshly. Reaching into an inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a tiny vial, filled with clear liquid. 'Know what this is?' he asked, tauntingly waving the bottle just out of Daphne's reach.
'I don't know.' Daphne crossed her arms over her chest stiffly.
'It's Veritaserum,' Draco told her, rolling it around in his palm. 'Mother gave it to me. Said I ought to let you have it, and you can decide if you want to use it.' He glanced up at his wife. 'I don't think you have the --' He was cut off abruptly by Daphne's wand slashing through the air and a red beam of light hit him in the chest. He crumpled to the floor.
'Not a Slytherin?' she purred, turning him over with the toe of her shoe. 'I'll bet you didn't know I'm better than you at nonverbal spells,' she gloated. 'Since you've never bothered to ask.' She bent and picked up the vial still clutched in Draco's fist. 'Allow me.' Daphne cracked the seal around the cork with a thumbnail and dribbled several drops into Draco's mouth. She waited several moments, then pointed her wand at him. He stirred and slowly sat up, his eyes glassy and heavy-lidded. Daphne impassively watched him. Ask him something he can't lie about and you'd know. 'When did you start shagging Pansy in school?'
'After the first Quidditch game fifth year. In the prefects' bathroom.'
'Did you want to marry her?'
'No. She was... Not...'
'Not...?' Daphne's fingers curled around the vial.
'She was good for a shag against the wall, but not good enough to raise a son I could be proud of.'
Daphne was aching to ask him more, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answers. She kept the conversation strained on Pansy. 'Why were you with her last month?'
'I wasn't with her. She came on to me.'
'Why didn't you stop her?' Daphne couldn't keep the harsh tone from her voice.
'I don't know,' Draco said quietly. He suddenly laughed. 'It was like I wasn't there. Like it was happening to someone else.'
'Why didn't you stop her?' demanded Daphne.
'Because all I ever feel is the most intense self-loathing, and for once I wanted to feel something else.'
Daphne's heartbeat slowed until she thought she was going to have to force it to continue beating. 'Did it work?'
Draco blinked and shook his head. His eyes cleared and narrowed slightly, looking at Daphne as if he'd never seen her before. He slowly got his feet under him and rose to his full height, brushing off his clothes. He walked to the door and stopped, just inside it. 'Nothing works,' he said softly, and left the room.
FORTY FOUR -- Minor Chord
A fire crackled in the quiet, lonely house, the soft pops echoing in the office. Harry had never figured himself to be one who hated to be alone with his thoughts, but with Ginny at a game, and all three children in school, and Teddy working the middle shift that week, the house was too still and silent, save for the sounds of the logs burning on the hearth.
Harry sprawled in one of the battered armchairs in front of the fire. He caught himself thinking about the days he'd spent in the hospital. Not the days where he'd been conscious, but the days he'd been unconscious. Those dreams he'd had seemed a bit too real. They reminded him uneasily of the brief time he'd spent with Dumbledore after he'd allowed Riddle's Killing curse to hit him. That had been real. Harry was almost certain it had been real, and not just in his own head. His eyes kept straying to the locked cabinet in the corner. I wonder if the Pensieve works with dreams... he thought. Can't hurt to check... Harry propelled himself to his feet, drawing his wand from his pocket at the same time. He slid an index finger over the lock, and with a soft click the door swung open, and Harry brought the tip of his wand to his temple. He pulled it away, several silvery strands clinging to it, and deftly swirled them into the surface of the Pensieve.
He took a deep breath and slowly lowered his face into the shimmering silver liquid.
Draco's hand trailed along the spines of the books in the towering bookcases. At the end of one bookcase, he found a slim book, bound in deep green leather, with silver scrollwork winding over the covers. He sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and began to flip through the photograph album. Daphne stood stiffly in one of the first photographs, formal and painfully correct in the icy white dress robes of heavy silk that was traditional for wizarding weddings. The garment seemed to threaten to engulf her frame, but she stood ramrod straight, gazing coolly into the camera, daring someone to say something untoward. The next page held one of him posing with Daphne. They barely touched each other, right hands joined because they'd been ordered to do so. The floor creaked softly and Draco's head snapped up from his contemplation of the wedding photographs. Daphne stood in the doorway, a book loosely held in one hand. She looked slightly startled to see him in the library. Normally, after dinner, he tended to ensconce himself in his study until he went to bed. Draco looked at her for a moment then blurted, 'Why did you marry me?'
Daphne took a step or two into the room and began to walk around the shelves, unconsciously following Draco' path, and returned her book to its place on the shelf. 'Why did you marry me?' she countered.
'Because I received a letter from my father one day, informing me I was getting married,' Draco muttered with a shrug. 'And you were...' He trailed off uncertainly. 'Untouched,' he finished.
'You mean virginal,' Daphne sighed.
'Well, that,' Draco allowed. 'Or if you weren't you had been most discreet.'
Daphne's cheeks burned. 'You know I was...'
Draco shook his head. 'You were untouched by...' He swallowed. 'Prior events.' He laughed bitterly. 'You went down quite a few rungs marrying me,' he snorted. 'A former Death Eater on probation with the Ministry. No prospects of anything but a life of enforced solitude.'
'That's not how my brother saw it,' Daphne replied evenly.
'I can --' Draco began tightly. He closed the photograph album and his fingers wrapped around the spine. 'I'll release you,' he said quietly. 'If you want. I'll take care of all the details and I'll even let you take custody of our son. I'll make sure the two of you won't want for anything.'
Daphne started in surprise. It was so rare for wizarding couples to dissolve their marriage that the laws regarding it hadn't changed in centuries. If a couple did decide to end their marriage, the husband usually received custody of any underage children, without question. A wizarding marriage was, in fact, a magically binding contract. Getting out of it was a long, arduous process. One that could take years. 'I don't know,' she said, turning on her heel. 'I don't know...' She scurried up the stairs to her bedroom, and shut the door, her hands shaking. Free... she thought. Free of this house and the restrictions... She slid to the floor, propping her back against the closed door. But it could be ages, and Scorpius could be out of school by then, and none of it will matter... Daphne pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. There was Scorpius to consider. It was one thing for one parent, especially the father, to engage in what was known as a "minor indiscretion". It would be quite another if it were to be publicly known his parents were in the actively attempting to end their marriage. It just wasn't done.
Shivering, she managed to get to her feet and stumbled to her bed. She toed off her shoes and crawled under the fluffy duvet without bothering to undress.
Harry watched the unfolding scenes with narrowed eyes. He knew he was watching his dreams. The hospital room was nothing like the one the Aurors kept reserved for themselves. It was more like the one Ginny had been in when she'd given birth to the boys. He watched himself sleep for long stretches, interrupted by Snape, his parents, and Sirius. He couldn't really hear what they said, not even what he himself said. It was maddening.
'What is this?' said Ginny's voice in his ear.
'A dream I had when I was unconscious after the attack...' Harry muttered, glancing over his shoulder at Ginny, doing a double-take. 'What are you doing here?' Realizing how annoyed he'd sounded, Harry added, 'I thought you had a game tonight.'
Ginny made a show of checking her watch. 'It's after eleven,' she retorted pointedly
'Guess I've been in here longer than I thought...'
'I thought you didn't use this,' Ginny began.
'I don't.' Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. 'Well, I used it before the kids went back to school. It was easier to show James what happened at school than try to tell him.' Harry turned to Ginny. 'I was sitting in here, trying not to think about how quiet it was, and thought, maybe, it could help me recall the dreams.' He frowned as the scenes rewound and started at the beginning. 'They were trying to tell me something, I know it... I just can't make out anything. It's like it's all underwater.'
'You've never learned to read lips?' Ginny asked incredulously. 'In your line of work?'
'I tried,' Harry admitted. 'I'm not very good at it.' He looked sideways at Ginny. 'Why? Do you know how?'
'A little. We learned how to do it when Mum and Dad were having a "discussion" in the kitchen and made us go into the back garden to play.'
Harry gestured to the scene in front of them. 'Can you make it out at all?'
Ginny squinted at the figures. 'How does this work? Can I move around?'
'Yeah. You can even walk through them.'
Slowly, Ginny approached the image of Sirius, who was smirking at Harry. Suddenly, she grinned. 'He's right. You do have a nice arse.'
Harry flushed, unsure whether to be angry or embarrassed. 'It sounds so much different when you say it...' He cleared his throat. 'What else is he saying?'
'Says it's in your memories. That you've been told... the answers... You just need to find them...'
Harry sighed. 'It has to do with the Muggle-baiting, I'm sure of it. Or at least I think that's what they're talking about, considering what I was doing before I ended up there. I just have to sift through more than three years of memories to find out what I need to finally get rid of this damn case.'
'You think about it all the time?' Ginny asked.
'Not all the time, but it's always there.' He reached for Ginny's hand. 'Come on. Let's go, eh?' He tugged gently on it and the two of them blinked and found themselves lying on the hearth rug in the study, Ginny sprawled across Harry. Harry's hands gently spread over Ginny's lower back. 'Thanks, for helping in there...'
'My pleasure.' Ginny's hips shifted slightly, making Harry's eyes widen a little.
'Fuck...' he breathed.
'That was the general idea,' Ginny informed him.
'Don't start something you can't finish,' Harry warned.
'Is that a dare?' Ginny murmured, shifting a bit more.
'Maybe.'
Ginny sat up; running the fingers of one hand over Harry's left shoulder, feeling the ridge of the new scar under the thin cotton of his shirt. 'Does it hurt?'
Harry's eyes glazed over. 'Does what hurt?'
Ginny's throaty laugh rang out. 'That's exactly what I wanted to hear...'
Daphne stood nervously in an unfamiliar bedroom, with her hands clasped in front of her. Under normal circumstances, the heavy formal robes would have been suffocatingly hot. But she shivered with something that wasn't quite fear; nor was it something she would label anticipation. She didn't know Draco well, despite having been in Slytherin with him for seven years. He'd had his circle and she didn't even crack its orbit. 'I can't believe Ian arranged this travesty of a marriage,' she murmured. Three months ago, her older brother had announced she was marrying Draco Malfoy. She began to pace around the room, tucking her icy hands inside the wide, sweeping sleeves of the robes, trying to avoid looking at the wide bed that dominated one end of the room. Her left hand twitched at the unfamiliar weight of the ornate betrothal ring she had only worn a few times before tonight, joined by a heavy gold band. She wondered what would happen if she just "forgot" to wear them.
The door opened soundlessly and Draco's head peered around the edge. He sidled through the slight opening uneasily. His tongue felt like it had been glued to the roof of his mouth. He went straight to the crystal decanter of wine on a small table near the fire. He poured a glass and downed it in one gulp. He turned to the woman standing silently to one side, gazing at him with a hint of apprehension on her face. 'Turn around,' he said gruffly. He closed the distance between them with a few long strides and pushed her dark blonde hair over her shoulder to expose the seemingly endless row of tiny buttons that ran down the back of the robes. His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he worked the topmost one through its buttonhole. Daphne kept her eyes glued to the elaborate rug just beyond the toes of the slippers that matched the robes.
At length, Draco had managed to undo the buttons, and he pushed the robes down Daphne's arms. The heavy silk slithered down her hips and puddled at her feet. She bent to pick it up, but Draco's voice stopped her. 'Leave it,' he told her harshly, beginning to work the buttons on the front of his robes undone. Daphne stood uncertainly in the flimsy slip, shifting from foot to foot. Draco gestured to the turned-down bed and Daphne awkwardly stumbled toward it slipping her feet from the slippers before she slid into the bed. She stared at her interlaced fingers, jumping when Draco touched her bare arm. 'I'm not going rape you,' he said evenly.
Daphne nodded wordlessly. While she knew what was supposed to happen on one's wedding night, she wasn't quite sure how a couple could do something so intimate when they hardly knew each other. Neither of them had a choice. They had to consummate the marriage before midnight, passion or no. It was in the contract they'd signed immediately following the ceremony. Daphne turned her head to ask Draco about it, and was startled when he perfunctorily kissed her, pulling her down so she lay on her back. Daphne stiffened when Draco's hands began to work the hem of the slip toward her hips. He used one knee to nudge her thighs apart, and knelt between them, fumbling with his pants. Daphne's wide eyes stared intensely at the canopy overhead. When Draco slid inside her, she convulsed in pain. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, wincing at the salty taste on her tongue.
Mercifully, it only lasted a few minutes. Draco's breath was harsh in her ears and his body lay limp and heavy on top of hers. Soon, he rolled off her and lay on his side, with his back to her. Slowly, achingly, Daphne curled into a ball, with her back to Draco, blinking back tears.
Draco gripped the pillow tightly in the fingers of one hand, ashamed at his behavior. Pansy hadn't been one for niceties with sex. She considered foreplay a waste of time. Foreplay for her was stopping long enough to remove her knickers. He'd promised Daphne he wouldn't rape her, but what he had done had barely been a step above that. He could hear Daphne's muffled sniffles behind him, and he started to roll over and apologize, but the words stuck on his tongue. He didn't think Daphne would want to listen to his half-formed, clumsy apologizes just now.
The two of them unobtrusively inched toward their respective edges of the bed, the wide gulf between them encompassing more than the mere expanse of the bed.
Daphne's eyes flew open. She blinked in bemusement at the empty space in the bed next to her. The dream had been so vivid; she had nearly expected to see Draco huddled on the other side. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor, glancing at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace in her bedroom. She'd only slept a few hours. Untangling the skirt from around her legs, she stood up and began to shed her clothing, letting it fall to the floor in a trail as she walked toward the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom. She pulled a pair of pajamas from a shelf and slipped them on, taking her dressing gown from the foot of the bed.
Her stomach rumbled over the whisper of the dressing gown, reminding her she hadn't eaten dinner. Daphne gazed at the clock thoughtfully for a moment. Draco was sure to be holed up in his study and she could slip into the kitchen for something to eat. She pulled her bedroom door open, and padded into the corridor, the thick carpet muting her footsteps. She went down the stairs and pushed the swinging kitchen door open.
Perri was sitting at the scrubbed wooden table, a tiny cup of tea at her elbow, paging through the Daily Prophet. She came to the crossword and snapped her fingers, making an ordinary Muggle pencil appear between them. She licked the tip and studied the first clue. Daphne hid a smile and began to rummage through the pantry. Perri jumped off the tall stool she used to reach the top of the table. 'Mrs. Daphne, is there something I can be getting for you?' she asked anxiously.
Daphne emerged with a small tray on which she arranged a pear, an apple, a chunk of cheese, bread, and her secret stash of pickle. 'No, Perri, but thank you.'
Perri eyed the tray distastefully. 'Mrs. Daphne, that is not what my mother would be calling a proper meal,' she sniffed.
'I just need a bite, Perri, not a four-course meal,' Daphne replied. 'You are off-duty for the night.'
Perri blinked. 'Is you saying that is an order?'
Daphne chuckled. 'Yes.' She carried the tray into the library, and set it down on the low table between two large armchairs in front of the fire. She had no more than settled into the chair than Perri appeared in front of her with a loud crack, carrying a tray with a pot of tea. 'I thought I told you were off-duty.'
One of Perri's large ears twitched. 'You is not asking for the tea, Mrs. Daphne. I is bringing it to you.' She set the tray next to the one Daphne had brought up with her and disappeared with a snap of her fingers.
Daphne flicked her wand at the fireplace, and it erupted into flames. She Summoned a book from the shelf behind her. It was an old favorite, read and re-read many times before, but Daphne was not in a mood to try and devote the attention needed for something new. She was quickly engrossed in her book, and didn't notice Draco enter the library and perch in the chair next to her.
'You never answered my question,' Draco said quietly, staring into the dancing flames. 'Why did you marry me?'
Daphne jumped a little when Draco spoke, but she closed her book calmly enough. 'I didn't have a choice,' she said tonelessly. 'My father died about a year before the wedding. Ian spent six months trying to arrange a marriage for me. He didn't care about your... situation... It was marry you, or end up in the streets.'
'But you were of age,' Draco protested. 'He couldn't force you.'
'Just like your father couldn't force you?' Daphne countered dryly. 'Ian was going to cut me off completely,' she continued. 'I didn't take many N.E.W.T. level classes. Mostly the horribly intellectual ones that meant I didn't have any really useful skills for employment.' Daphne crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 'Ian's not one for kindness when it threatens his view of the world. And...' Daphne inhaled slowly. 'I didn't have anywhere else to go... Ian can be...' Daphne searched for a way to describe her elder brother. 'Not cruel, exactly, but when he sets his mind to something, it gets done, regardless of how anyone else feels about it.'
'Don't you have other family members?' Draco asked. 'Couldn't one of them have interceded for you?'
Daphne shook her head. 'None that were willing to oppose Ian.'
'But why me?' Draco persisted.
Daphne smiled humorlessly. 'Because for all that you're a -- how did you put it? -- a former Death Eater on probation -- you still had the name and the prestige that would impress Ian's social circle. It was quite a coup for him to have his plain, bookish sister married to you. And the fact that you're still quite wealthy didn't hurt. It wasn't for my benefit, you see.' Daphne shrugged and returned to her book. Draco slid off the chair and slipped out of the library as quietly as he had come in.
Harry's toes caught the edge of a riser and he fell forward. 'Bloody, effing hell!'
'Shhhh!' Ginny giggled softly.
Harry glanced over his shoulder. 'Why?' he asked blankly.
'You might wake up...' Ginny bit her lip. 'Oh... Right.'
Harry cupped Ginny's face in one hand. 'Hey now,' he said, thumbing the tear that ran down Ginny's cheek. 'No tears, eh?'
Ginny smiled shakily and shook her head. 'No. It's just a little strange, still, that's all.'
Harry leaned forward and gently kissed her. 'Think of it like this,' he began. 'We won't have to endure any more phone calls from Lily's barmy history teacher.'
'That's a bonus,' Ginny snorted. She continued up the stairs. 'You still owe me a dinner in Paris, by the way.'
'When did I promise you a dinner in Paris?' Harry asked in confusion, as he followed Ginny.
'You didn't. But you still owe me one.'
'Why?'
'For five days of sitting next to your bed while you were communing with ghosts.'
'You must be joking! Do you know how expensive it is to go to Paris for an evening? The Portkey alone is three times as expensive as dinner, and why bother eating at all? You get half a morsel of something and they call that a course,' he grumbled. 'Why can't we just go to London?'
'Because,' Ginny said patiently. 'I ate hospital food.'
Harry went into their bathroom, and picked up his toothbrush. 'You did?' He reached out with and felt Ginny's forehead with the back of one hand. 'Are you feeling all right?'
'Yes. Fleur suggested a few places off the regular tourist areas, too.'
Harry sighed. 'Brilliant... When?'
'Tuesday after next. I've already made reservations.' Ginny grinned. 'I promise -- I'll wear something to make it worth your while.'
Harry stuck his toothbrush into his mouth, as he eyed his wife. He spit into the sink and pointed his toothbrush at Ginny. 'Wear that little black thing you wore when we had dinner with Dudley and Aaron in March.'
'I think I can manage that.' Ginny reached around Harry for her toothbrush.
Harry leaned against the counter quietly brushing his teeth for a moment. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Sure.'
'If I knew something about someone, and knew how to find out how to sort of fix it, should I?'
Ginny frowned at Harry in the mirror. 'You'll have to give me more details...'
'I want to try and see what Neville and Hannah's chances of being able to adopt a baby would be.'
'I thought you said they gave up on that.'
'Yeah, but only based on an idea they'd get rejected outright because of their age,' Harry protested. 'Look at Dudley and Aaron. They're the same age and they managed to adopt Sarah. Nev told me last they'd still like to do it, he's just afraid to be told "no" again.'
'No interference,' Ginny ordered.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
Ginny tossed her toothbrush into the cup at one side of the sink. 'You will merely pass on information. That is all. Nothing more than that.'
Harry replaced his toothbrush. 'Fine,' he muttered, and turned to leave the bathroom.
Ginny caught his hand, pulling him back to her. 'Don't pout.'
'I'm not pouting,' Harry said.
Ginny rose on her toes and gave Harry a tender kiss, brushing his hair from his eyes. 'Yes, you are. But you need to let Neville and Hannah do this on their own. Just tell them what you find out -- and do be discreet about it -- use one of Hermione's cabana boys to do the inquiries for you; she's trained them to keep their mouths shut about their work --'
'More like what she did to Marietta Edgecombe is still legendary,' interrupted Harry.
'Well, yes, there is that,' Ginny agreed. She left the bathroom and climbed into bed, pulling Harry's shirt over her head. She wadded it into a ball and neatly tossed it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room.
'Show-off,' Harry muttered, sliding into the bed next to her. He never could quite get the clothes to land squarely in the basket like Ginny could.
'You're such a fixer, love,' Ginny murmured, cuddling close to him. 'Someone needs something fixed and you try to make everyone happy.' She brushed her lips over his. 'And I love you for it...'
In a few moments, Harry could feel her breathing deepen into sleep. He bent his head slightly and nuzzled the top of Ginny's head, resting on his shoulder. 'Thanks, Gin...' he whispered.
Ron ran his oil-slick hands down Hermione's back, sniffing appreciatively. Lavender... Mione must be in a good mood... And parchment? It made one of Ron's brows rise. It had taken three years to get the massage oil to do what it was supposed to do and change its scent based on the mood of the person receiving the massage. They'd used Amortentia as their starting point, and after two years of tinkering with the potion, they'd finally gotten it to react to the person's skin and make the other person smell their mood. Unfortunately, the first few oils had resulted in all manner of "issues", as George liked to delicately refer to them. Rashes, hives, discolored skin. It was discouraging, but they finally had created a workable prototype last autumn.
'I'm reducing my hours at the Ministry,' Hermione said quietly, gasping as Ron's thumb worked out a particularly recalcitrant knot under her shoulder blade.
'Why?'
'So they can reach me in case something happens to Mum,' she replied.
'Are you sure you want to do that...?'
Hermione nodded, sighing in pleasure as Ron's hands slowly slid up her back to her shoulders. 'I spoke with Kingsley about it before Rose and Hugo went back to school. I'll go into the office in the mornings, and other than that, they can reach me by owl or Floo.'
'Maybe we could alternate days,' Ron suggested. 'George doesn't need me here or in Hogsmeade on a regular basis until mid-November. That way you don't have to be out all the time.'
Hermione started to say no, but she realized Ron was trying to help in a way she hadn't allowed earlier. 'We'll alternate, then.'
'We got an owl from Neville today,' Ron said casually.
'Oh, God,' Hermione sighed. 'What did Hugo do?'
'Wasn't Hugo. It was Rosie.'
'Who did she punch this time?'
Ron delicately cleared his throat. 'Nobody. She just emptied a bottle of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher into some kid's pumpkin juice.'
'Why?'
Ron sat back on his heels. 'You know how you always told Harry and me to just ignore the people taunting us?'
Hermione sat up; reaching for Ron's abandoned t-shirt and pulled it over her head. 'Yes...'
'Rose hasn't quite figured that out.'
'Oh, bugger,' Hermione groaned. 'Whose juice?'
'That Greengrass kid. The one she roughed up her first year.'
Hermione's mouth fell open. 'Why would she do something like that?'
Ron gave Hermione a disbelieving glance. 'Because she inherited her Uncle George and Fred's sense of humor and your sense of injustice.' He picked up one of Hermione's hands and turned it over, running his thumbs over her palm. 'He was saying things about Muggle-born witches and wizards. Particularly you, hen.'
Hermione closed her eyes in dismay. 'I thought we were past that...' she said tiredly.
Ron's mouth twisted. 'You know as well as I do there are always going be bigots, and that kid's father is involved with that group in Ireland.'
'More than involved,' Hermione muttered. 'He's the bloody ringleader.' She closed her eyes. 'What happened to the kid when he drank his spiked juice?'
Ron smirked. 'His tongue shrank. Madam Pomfrey put it back to rights in a moment. He's fine. Rosie has two weeks of detention, though. With the Potions' teacher. And they took twenty points from Gryffindor.' He set Hermione's hand down and picked up the other one.
Hermione shook her head. 'She's your daughter. No doubt about that.'
Ron smiled. 'Yeah...' He repeated his ministrations on her other hand, giving extra attention to the fingers -- it was her right hand and she hated using dictation quills, preferring to write everything herself. 'We also got one from Luna, too.'
Hermione's face brightened. 'How is she doing?'
'Twin boys. Lorcan and Lysander.'
'Are they still in India?'
Ron nodded. 'Yeah. She says Rolf is writing a book about magical creatures in southwestern Asia and that they'll probably come back to England before next summer.'
'That will be nice.' Hermione's nose wrinkled. 'I can't imagine having a baby at this age, much less twins.'
'Luna's always danced to her own tune. Considering it took her years to meet a bloke who's just as, uh, eccentric as she is, it's not surprising.'
'Oh, come on, Rolf isn't that bad,' Hermione chided. 'He perfectly lovely for her.'
Ron snorted and pressed a kiss to Hermione's palm. 'Yeah, of course he is. They spent their honeymoon chasing after Crumple-Beaked Snotcracks or whatever.'
Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet and ambled into the kitchen. 'Is there any of the pumpkin pie left?' she called over her shoulder.
Ron frowned. Hermione knew the answer to that question. She had asked him earlier. 'I told you earlier we ate the last of it on Wednesday.'
'That's too bad,' Hermione mused. 'I guess we'll have to settle for this kind of pie...' Ron's t-shirt sailed through the door and draped over his head, followed by a delighted giggle. 'Twenty years and that's the first time I've managed to do that.'
Ron slowly pulled the shirt off his head. 'Yeah, I think that kind of pie will do...'
'Pssst.'
Scorpius ignored his cousin Geoffery's hissed attempts to get his attention.
'Pssst.'
With a sigh, Scorpius glanced at Lily, sitting across the table from him. She was glaring at Geoffery, with a look on her face that reminded him of Harry when he was cross about something. 'Don't let him bother you,' he muttered.
'Too late,' she replied, turning a page in her Charms textbook. When Geoffery repeated the hissing sound, her shoulders jerked irritably. 'Do you bloody mind?' Lily growled.
'Blimey, Scorpius, what did you do? Pay the Potters to be your nursemaids or something?' Geoffery scoffed.
Scorpius laid his quill down and turned to the table behind him. 'What is it you want, Geoffery?' he asked tiredly.
'Did you hear the latest on your father?' Geoffery whispered gleefully.
'Why? Does it make you feel superior?' Scorpius began to turn back to his homework. 'It's the only damn thing you've got.'
'Turns out your mother's not the slut after all, it's him,' Geoffery chortled. 'I heard my dad say your dad was caught banging Pansy Parkinson, and that's why your mother and you left France so abruptly.'
Maya pointedly dropped a stack of books on the table where Lily and Scorpius sat. 'Is that so?' she said mildly. 'Pansy's bonked every twit in Britain that has something resembling a willy between their legs. Last I heard, Greengrass she not only had your grandfather, but your father, as well. One right after the other. Didn't even bother to change the sheets in between. And all that time Scorpius' father was supposed to be with her? She was at my mum and dad's pub in Falmouth. With, oh, wait, who was that man she was with? Could that have been your father? I believe it was.' She dropped into the chair next to Lily with a satisfied smirk.
Geoffery stared at Maya for several moments, before he gathered his things, a dull flush staining his cheeks. He stumbled from the library, Maya's soft chuckles taunting him as he left. Scorpius bobbed his head shyly. 'Thanks,' he said softly. 'Was all that true?' he asked curiously.
'Yeah. Most of it. I help out when it's busy at my parents' pub for extra pocket money for school.' Maya opened her Defense text. 'I hate tossers like Greengrass, trying to bully other students for his own enjoyment.' She glanced at Scorpius. 'Besides, I've seen you playing Quidditch with James and his lot on Saturdays. If James likes you, you must be all right.'
'Thanks. I think.'
Lily gazed at Maya with frank interest, a tiny line between her brows. 'Can I ask you something?' she blurted.
'You're Lily, right? James' sister?'
'Yeah...'
Maya's fingers tightened slightly on her quill. She hoped Lily wasn't going to drill her about James. The conversation she'd had with her mother over the summer was bad enough. 'Yeah, all right.'
The frown on Lily's face deepened. 'What does "bonked" mean...?
FORTY FIVE -- Collision
A faint buzzing sound woke Harry. He blindly patted the night table, searching for the alarm clock, but merely succeeded in knocking his glasses to the floor. His wandering hand slammed on the old-fashioned clock, searching for the switch that would still the clanging bell. But the buzzing didn't stop. That's not the alarm, he thought muzzily.
'Harry, it's from the Aurors,' Ginny grunted groggily, driving an elbow into his ribs.
'What time is it?' he groaned, reaching down to the floor for his glasses.
'Twelve-thirty,' Ginny grumbled.
'Why can't Dark wizards do their illicit activities in the daylight, like normal criminals?' Harry huffed, as he sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
'Because then it wouldn't be illicit,' Ginny mumbled, burrowing back into her pillow. 'Illicit implies that it must be done as some sort of covert operation. If you're in the daylight, it's difficult to be covert.'
'I hate that you can be logical when you first wake up,' Harry snorted, as he flung the bedding back and swung his feet to the floor.
'It's a gift.'
Harry shook his head as he snatched his abandoned jeans from the top of the laundry basket and yanked them on over his boxers. 'Yeah, it's something.' He pulled a sweatshirt from the bureau and tugged it over his head, not caring if the Harpies logo was flaking off and there were several small holes. He'd had it since the year before Ginny retired. He leaned over the bed and brushed Ginny's hair away from her face. 'Go back to sleep.' He dropped a light kiss on her cheek.
'Trust me, I will,' Ginny yawned.
Harry let his fingertips brush across Ginny's cheek, and he picked his wand and the small pewter rectangle that flashed a location in bright blue lights up from the night table and shoved his wand into his back pocket as he went down the stairs. The pewter card stopped vibrating when his hand closed around it. Protean charms aren't that bad, as long as you're not burning them into your skin, he mused. He glanced at the pewter card and frowned at the message. 'Oh, God, no...' he breathed. 'No...' Harry darted into the back garden and Disapparated, his heart hammering in his throat.
He appeared at the end of a street in Barkingside. Harry began to walk quickly down the sidewalk, then he broke into a run when the amount of people milling in front of the building. 'Oh, God, please...' As he skidded to a halt near Dudley and Aaron's flat, he saw a dark figure rise from a crouching position behind some large dustbins in the alley, a wand extended in front of him.
'Ava---'
'STUPEFY!' Harry bellowed, his wand clutched tightly in his hands. The red jet of light hit the figure in the back and he toppled over to the ground. Aurors and other assorted MLE members swarmed around them. 'What happened?' Harry demanded, his breath rasping harshly in his ears. 'Where are they?'
'Harry...?' Iain touched his arm hesitantly.
Harry whirled around. 'My cousin, his partner, and their daughter... Where are they?' he repeated frantically. 'Sarah's not even a year old...'
'They're fine,' Iain told him. 'They're right there.' Iain gestured to the two men standing on the other side of the street.
Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. 'Oh... Then why all the commotion?'
Iain bit his lip and pointed to a body draped in a purple sheet Harry hadn't noticed in his efforts to locate Dudley. 'It's Kathleen...'
'Shite...' Harry stumbled to the sheet and knelt to turn back the edge to expose Kathleen's face. Her eyes were unnaturally blank. He sat down hard on the cold sidewalk, his breath coming in fast, shallow pants. Kathleen had been one of his first trainees. She'd worked with him since before Albus was born. He pressed his lips together to stem the tide of bile that rose in his throat. Swallowing heavily several times, he gently closed her wide, staring eyes, and drew the edge of the sheet back over Kathleen's face. Harry gazed at Iain. 'What happened...?'
'We got a tip a few weeks ago that we should put someone to watch over your relations.' Iain's voice was dull in the chilly October night. 'I put Kathleen in charge of it and she came out tonight to check on the two who were watching.' Iain glanced around and his eyes lit on the two huddled shapes on the stoop of the building. 'Andrea and Rob,' he added, pointing to them.
Harry nodded. 'All right.'
'They said that your cousin, is it?'
'Yeah.'
'He and the other bloke came walking from the Underground station with the baby and Kath saw someone lurking around the door of their flat, and threw herself in front of them...' Iain rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. 'Andrea said that whoever it was just started saying the incantation for the Killing Curse and that's when Kath...' He trailed off and looked away, blinking rapidly. His fists twisted into the hem of his shirt. 'She was just lying on the sidewalk when I got here.'
'Right,' Harry sighed. 'Right.' He got to his feet and began to walk toward the squad of Hit Wizards. 'Let's get this taken care of. I'll need to go notify her family later, too.'
'She didn't have any,' Iain blurted.
Harry stopped cold in the middle of the street. 'What? But I thought...'
Iain shook his head. 'No. Her mother died while you were in the hospital.'
'Oh, that's right.' Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'She didn't have any brothers or sisters did she?'
'No.' Iain hesitated slightly. 'Harry, could Bree and I take care of... of the arrangements?' Iain's face crumpled, but he managed to control himself. 'I know we're not technically family, but...'
Harry heaved a sigh. This wasn't the first time he'd lost a colleague, but it was the first time he'd lost one he'd trained and guided through their career. 'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'I'll make sure the Ministry drones know you and Bree are going to handle things.' He stuffed his cold hands in his pockets and crossed the street to check on Dudley and Aaron.
'Harry, what the hell was that?' Dudley said, clutching Sarah.
'I'll tell you later,' Harry murmured. At Dudley's skeptical glance, Harry laid a hand on his arm. 'I promise. When everything gets sorted, I'll tell you.' He walked quickly toward the Head of the Hit Wizards. 'Is it all right for them to go inside?'
The burly wizard nodded. 'Yeah. Your lot checked the place already. They removed the nasty hexes in the entrance and the rest of it was fine.'
'Thanks, Justin.' Harry turned to Dudley and Aaron, who had followed him. 'You can go in now.'
Aaron stole a look at the shape on the sidewalk. 'That woman... She's dead?'
'Yeah.' Harry gently pushed them toward their flat. 'Go inside, put Sarah to bed. I'll get things wrapped up out here and come fill you in.' He grabbed Ian's sleeve, as the younger man walked by. 'Iain. Go home.'
'But --'
'Iain, I've been doing this for most of my life. Go home. Go be with Brianna. Trust me. It'll help. And she'll want to hear about this from you.'
'Harry?'
'What now?' Harry spun around to find Carolina heading toward him.
'Your relations' memories -- how do you want to handle this?'
'I can do it,' Harry said shortly. 'But I'm leaving it up to them.'
'That's rather unorthodox,' Carolina said slowly.
'Yeah, well, life doesn't always play by the rules,' Harry said snidely. He started to walk away, then paused. 'Sorry,' he mumbled.
'It's all right. It never gets easier to lose one. Even when it happened all the time.' Carolina patted his shoulder sympathetically. 'The neighbors have been taken care of, though, and we're going to sort of skulk about for a few days, just in case we missed someone.'
'Okay. Uh, get someone in your department to coordinate with the Aurors watching here.'
'Harry?' Justin Worely, the Head of the Hit Wizard squad, joined them. 'Have you seen the person you Stunned?'
'Not yet.'
'Could you come have a peek? Maybe you can identify him?'
'Oh sure, because I know everyone...' Harry muttered, as he followed Justin toward the still-unconscious man. Justin turned the unconscious wizard over with the toe of his boot, and held his lit wand over the man's face. 'Hang on...' Harry waved wildly to Carolina. 'Oi! Carolina, d'you know him?'
Carolina approached them warily. 'Why?'
'I think I've seen him in your department...' Harry said tentatively.
Carolina crouched to get a better view of the man's face. 'Oh, Merlin's bollocks,' she breathed. 'I do know him... He's one of the ones that came in with Teddy.' Her face paled noticeably in the wan light from Justin's wand. 'He was with us! The night you were attack,' she gasped to Harry.
'Hm.' Justin nudged the man with his boot once more. 'We'll take him to Azkaban, then.'
'I'll send someone up in a couple of days to question him,' Harry said. A dark estate car pulled up next to them, and two Ministry employees in dark robes jumped out. One of them opened the boot and pulled out a stretcher. They strode to where Kathleen's body still lay. Harry glanced at Justin and Carolina. 'Excuse me...' He motioned toward Kathleen, and quickly walked to meet the officials. He nearly stumbled over Iain who sat on the cold, damp sidewalk to one side of Kathleen. 'Iain... I thought I told you to go home.'
Iain shook his head. 'I couldn't go. Not until...' He jerked his chin in the direction of the officials standing behind Harry.
Harry let his hand fall to Iain's shoulder, and he tightly squeezed it. 'Right.' He looked over his shoulder at the Ministry officials. 'He'll be making the arrangements,' he told them, nodding toward Iain.
'Is he family?' one asked coldly.
Harry's hand curled into a fist at his side, and he forcibly restrained himself from twisting his fingers into the front of the man's robes. 'I said, he's making the arrangements,' he said in a faintly menacing tone. Harry glared down at the much shorter man. 'Do you understand me?'
'Y-yes, sir...'
Harry stepped back and wrapped a hand around Iain's arm, pulling him to his feet. The pair of them watched silently as the officials carefully lifted Kathleen's body and laid her on the stretcher, then picked it up, and loaded it into the back of the car. Iain took a deep breath. 'How can you stand it?' he asked, his voice high and tight.
Harry's mouth twitched. 'Oh, trust me, later, I won't be so...' He shrugged. 'There's too much to do right now.' The car drove away into the dark night, and Harry turned to Iain. 'All right. Go on home. You can wait until tomorrow to starting taking care of things. Get some sleep. Or, try to get some sleep.'
'I'll see you tomorrow.'
'No, you won't. You will stay home tomorrow. And for the next two weeks.'
'But --'
'Iain, that's an order,' Harry said softly, but with a tenor to his voice Iain couldn't mistake. It meant Harry wasn't going to argue and Iain had best do what he was told. Harry stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Iain until he Disapparated. He wearily walked back to Carolina and Justin. 'Are we done here?'
'Yeah,' Carolina said. 'You should probably go talk to your cousin, then.'
Harry nodded. 'I'm not looking forward to that,' he said with a gusty sigh.
'Why not?'
Harry gazed at the spot where Kathleen's body had lain. 'This just confirmed every awful thing about magic my cousin could have imagined when we were growing up.' He shoved his hands into his pockets and plodded to the door of the flat.
Harry knocked softly on the door, and it opened instantly, revealing a panicked-looking Dudley. 'Can I come in?' Harry asked. Dudley stepped back to allow Harry to sidle through the door. 'I'm so sorry,' Harry started. He was surprised to feel Dudley's hand in the middle of his back, propelling him through the entrance toward the sitting room.
'Come on and sit down. You look like you're about to fall over.' Dudley steered Harry to an armchair and pushed him down into it. He turned to the table and poured a cup of tea and pressed it Harry's hands. 'Drink that.'
Harry gratefully sipped the hot liquid, keeping his eyes fixed on the rug under his feet. 'Normally, when something like this happens, we modify your memories...' he said hesitantly. 'Just to keep our existence a secret. But since you're related to me, the secret's sort of out.'
Aaron stared at Harry intently. 'What do you mean by modify?'
Harry pulled his wand from his pocket. 'I can make you forget the past two hours. You'll remember getting off the Tube, and putting Sarah to bed, but nothing else.'
'How did you know that girl?' Aaron asked.
'Aaron!' Dudley hissed.
Harry raised the cup to his lips. 'I trained her,' he said softly, his voice breaking. 'I've worked with her for... Fourteen years...' His eyes drifted shut. 'She was one of my best...'
Dudley sank onto the sofa next to Aaron. 'Why were they here? Those two across the street and her?'
'Watching you.'
'Why?'
Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Because there are those of my kind who don't like people like you...'
'They don't like poufs?' Aaron blurted.
'Oh, no, it's not that...' Harry waved a hand in the air. 'It's because you're not magic.'
'Blimey,' Dudley said mildly. 'You mean there are people like my parents, but the other way around?'
'Sadly, yes.' Harry wrapped his hands around the cup. 'And, years ago -- decades -- they would harass Muggles --'
'What's a Muggle?' interrupted Aaron.
'Non-magic person,' Dudley quickly said. At Harry's surprised look, he rolled his eyes. 'What? I do pay attention...' He glanced at Harry. 'Go on.'
'So this group liked to harass Muggles, sometimes even kill them. And not just Muggles. Wizards or witches with Muggle parents, too. And we thought most of us had left all that behind. And for the past couple of years, someone has been harassing Muggles again. And we don't know who it is. They've covered their tracks very well.
'But the people I work with got a message that we ought to keep an eye on the three of you. So that's why Andrea and Rob were outside your flat tonight. And why Kathleen was here. She came to check on them.
'And you saw the rest...' Harry gazed into the liquid amber depths of his tea. 'So the question is... I can remove all memory of this, or I can go home and leave it.'
'Why us...?' Dudley asked. 'I mean, is there a pattern or something?'
'It depends. A lot of time, before, they targeted someone's family, but this time, it's been random. You're the first ones to have a connection to someone magic.'
Aaron turned to Dudley. 'Why does that make me nauseated?'
Harry set his cup down on the table. 'I'm going to keep the surveillance on you. Someone will follow you around, but you won't know who they are. They won't even look the same from day to day. And Sarah will be looked after, too. We will do everything we can to make sure the three of you are safe.'
Dudley frowned. 'How does that work?'
'Remember before you and your parents went into hiding?' When Dudley nodded warily, Harry continued. 'Do you remember the bald bloke who was the Prime Minister's new assistant?'
'I think so...'
'It would be someone like that. Someone trained to blend in so well, you'd never know they were there.'
Aaron nodded. 'All right.'
Harry sat still for a moment. 'What about your memories?'
Dudley and Aaron exchanged a look. Aaron cleared his throat. 'Can we discuss it and tell you later?'
'Yeah. Just ring me, and I'll take care of it.' Harry pushed himself to his feet. 'I'll just go now.' He paused mid-step. 'I'll understand if you don't want to stay in contact any more... Good night...'
'Are you asleep?'
Aaron turned his head on the pillow. 'No.'
'Are you okay?' Dudley rolled the corner of his pillowcase between his thumb and forefinger.
Aaron rolled to his side to face Dudley. 'I'm not sure.' He pushed himself into sitting. 'So this memory thing...?'
'It's quite good, actually,' Dudley remarked. 'When we were... oh, thirteen, I guess, Marge was visiting and she was going on and on about Harry's parents, and he went ballistic. Lost control of his magic, they said, when they came to put Marge to rights. He blew her up like a balloon,' Dudley mused. 'The only time I ever envied him was years later when I came out and Marge was laying into me, calling me every filthy name she could think of. I found myself wishing I could make her float away like that... Anyway, they did something to her memory, so she didn't remember Harry's, erm, indiscretion. He took off that night. They told us he was all right, not that we cared at the time. But Marge just remembered him raising a fuss. She blamed the rest of it on the amount of alcohol she'd had at dinner.'
'Is it supposed to make us feel safer?'
'Well, if not remembering makes you feel safer.'
'Right.' Aaron sighed and slid back down, pulling his pillow over his head. 'I don't know what to do.'
Dudley patted around looking for Aaron's hand, and wound his fingers through Aaron's. 'I don't either.'
Aaron flung his pillow to the floor. 'This is absolutely wretched.' He glanced at Dudley, tugging at the side of his pillow with his free hand. 'Budge up and let me have some of your pillow.'
'No, go fetch yours off the floor. This is mine. It's all squishy, just the way I like it.'
'But it's cold,' Aaron argued.
'Should have thought of that before you threw it across the room.' But he lifted his head, and scooted his pillow closer to Aaron. 'I'm not going to cut off Harry,' he said quietly, waiting for Aaron's reaction, holding his breath.
'I didn't expect you to.'
'Yeah, well. He's the only family I've got doesn't think I'm a perv.'
Draco stood on the corner of a busy street in London, peering around the corner of a nondescript building. He hardly ever ventured into Muggle areas and was fairly certain nobody he knew would be there. Nervously, he brushed his palms over the sleeves of his Muggle shirt, swiping at invisible lint. He fished a small card out of the pocket of his trousers and tilted it toward the weak late autumn sunshine. Brick Street, he thought. It was a little too close to the visitor's entrance of the Ministry of Magic for his taste, but he'd found the small slip of stiffened parchment amongst his things when he was cleaning out his desk. He had no idea how it got there. His mother could have slipped it in a letter, Daphne could have put it in his desk, or gotten Perri to do it while she was cleaning. The edges were slightly frayed, as if it had been in there for years.
Draco walked up the stoop to the front door and twisted the knob, peeking around the edge of the door. The reception area was warm, and almost cozy. It made Draco slightly nauseated. He wasn't the warm and cozy type. 'Would you like to come in?' the young wizard behind the desk asked solicitously.
Draco nearly slammed the door shut, but he stood on the threshold, the doorknob clutched in his sweaty hand. At length, he sidled through the doorway and shuffled to the desk, his eyes darting around the empty office. 'I, erm... I had an appointment for three.'
The wizard gestured to an empty chair. 'Well, you're early, so please, sit...'
Draco glared at the wizard for a moment, before he spun and dropped to one of the chairs, his fingers drumming monotonously on the arm of the chair as a clock ticked in the background, making his shoulders tense more with each passing second.
Draco settled on the edge of a comfortable chair inside the man's office, clearly uneasy. He clenched his hands into fists and glared at the person sitting across from him. The man didn't seem to be perturbed by Draco's attitude. He merely smiled in a friendly manner and waited. After a few moments, Draco growled, 'Well? Aren't you going to give me some exceedingly foul-tasting potion and send me on my way?'
Andrew Scott shook his head. 'No.'
'Why not?' Draco scowled at the man. 'Aren't you a Healer?'
'Yes, I am.' Andrew set his clipboard down and leaned forward slightly. 'But in this case, you don't need potions. Not yet.'
'So you're going to do nothing?' Draco asked incredulously.
Andrew shook his head. 'No.'
'What's supposed to happen?'
'You talk, I listen. We discuss.'
'And that's supposed to help?' Draco sneered.
Andrew shrugged slightly. 'Eventually.'
'What do I talk about?'
'What ever you want.'
Draco's mouth fell open, and he closed it with an audible snap. He eyed the Healer sitting across from him suspiciously. 'Are you going to tell anyone?'
Andrew shook his head. 'No.'
'What about your staff?' Draco shot back.
Andrew shook his head again. 'No. They sign an oath that all information regarding who comes in and out of here is strictly confidential.'
Draco's lips clamped shut and he settled back into the chair, frowning.
After an excruciatingly tense silence, Andrew cleared his throat. 'Erm, Mr. Malfoy?' He inclined his head at a small hourglass on the table next to his chair. 'Your time is almost up...'
Draco blinked in surprise and glanced at the device. Only a few grains of sand remained. He'd tried and rejected a number of things to say to Andrew. Secrecy was a significant portion of his personality. He couldn't imagine laying his life at the feet of a total stranger.
FORTY SIX -- Need
'You're not really supposed to do this,' Percy told Harry.
'Bugger off, Percy,' Harry said tiredly. 'I'm not going to actually do the surveillance on my cousin, just oversee it like I did with you and Hermione when Skeeter was stalking you.'
Percy adjusted his glasses and pressed his lips together in a gesture Harry knew Percy made when he was about to agree with something he disagreed with greatly. 'Fine,' he said tightly.
Harry leaned back in his chair, attempting to stretch the kinks in his back. 'It's perfectly legal, Perce,' he sighed. 'And you know it.'
Percy shoved his hands into his pockets. 'I know it's legal,' he sniffed. 'However, I also don't think you're up to starting the investigation just now.'
Harry's head cocked to one side and he gazed at Percy with the expression of one examining a particularly large and hairy spider. 'I'm not going to start it today,' he said gruffly. He reached for Kathleen's file and began to page through it. 'First class, Percy,' he said softly, pointedly changing the subject. 'She threw herself in front of Killing curse.' Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair. 'Fat lot of good a bloody Order of Merlin will do for her now,' he muttered.
Percy didn't say anything.
'I'm going to start the investigation as soon as her funeral is over,' Harry stated. 'Does that fall within my time limits?'
'When is the funeral?'
'I don't know,' Harry ground out. 'She hasn't been dead twelve hours.'
'You have to start it within a week of the arrest,' Percy said stiffly. 'It's the --'
Harry pushed himself to his feet, bracing his hands on his desk. 'I know it's the effing law!' he nearly shouted. 'I know the laws and the rules and all the damned regulations! I also know the Minister isn't allowed to override those particular laws and rules! He was using a fucking Unforgivable, Percy! He was attempting to murder Muggles!' His voice throttled down to a low rumble. 'Or don't you remember how that used to be?' he lashed out.
Percy recoiled slightly. 'Of course I do.'
Harry's eyes closed briefly. When he opened them, he kept them trained on his outspread hands. 'There has to be a loophole somewhere,' he said quietly. 'I can not do this in one week. I need a little time, all right?' He allowed himself to glance up at Percy over the rims of his glasses. 'I'll enlist Hermione's help, if I have to,' he threatened.
Percy's shoulders stiffened. 'I'm sure you won't feel the need to do that.' He began to turn toward the door. 'I'll have an answer for you before you leave for the day.'
'Thank you.'
Percy paused, with one hand on the doorknob. 'I don't doubt your ability to remain neutral,' he began, with none of his usual pompousness. 'Under normal circumstances, that is... These aren't exactly normal.'
'I wanted her to replace me,' Harry said. 'When I was ready to retire. I wanted her to replace me.' His voice thickened slightly, but he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 'Just find a loophole for me. Just a few more days.' He slowly dropped back into the chair. 'Please.'
Percy nodded and slipped out of Harry's office.
Ginny slowly woke up and stretched, keeping her eyes shut as she arched her back. They flew open when she realized she hadn't stretched into Harry's body. She sat up rubbing her eyes and mentally shrugged. It wasn't uncommon for him to not come home after being woken up in the middle of the night like that. Ginny slid out of the bed and headed for the kitchen. Four owls were lined up on the windowsill, glaring at her impatiently. She opened the window, shivering slightly at the cold air, taking the letters from each owl in turn, exchanging it for an Owl Treat. Three of them were articles she needed to edit for the paper and one was a terse note from Harry that he'd be home later.
Ginny dropped the articles on the table. It would be easier to work on the articles at the Prophet offices than here. She could have edited them at home and owled them back to the paper, but the writers were fairly new reporters and tended to fall into hysterics at the amount of red ink Ginny could use on their articles, despite the fact all three of them could write a decent story. It was much better for Ginny to deal with them in person than receive a barrage of owls or frantic calls through the Floo. And ironically, despite all the bustle at the paper, she found it less distracting than the overwhelming silence of the house, waiting for Harry to come home. She started to leave the kitchen when she heard another owl tap on the window. She turned and went to the window again to open it and accept the rolled-up newspaper, exchanging a handful of Knuts for it. Ginny opened the paper and scanned the headlines. Her eyes widened. 'Oh no...'
Auror Killed In Attempted Murder Plot
Last night in the Barkingside neighborhood of east London, Kathleen MacBeth was killed protecting a Muggle family outside their home. The unnamed couple and their child were returning home when an unidentified wizard attempted to murder them using the Killing curse. Miss MacBeth appears to have thrown herself in front of the Muggles. The assailant was captured later, when he tried once again to perform the Killing curse and was Stunned by an Auror before the entire incantation could be said. An investigation in pending.
Miss MacBeth joined the Auror training program soon after finishing school, where she completed the training with distinction. She spent the past ten years working in the Auror department. Miss MacBeth has no surviving family. Funeral services are pending.
The article was nearly as terse as Harry's note to her had been. Ginny always found it highly interesting that no names were ever mentioned in a story about a pending investigation. She supposed it was Harry's doing, as much as it had been Ministry policy. He hated for investigations to descend into rumor and innuendo if details were published in the paper like so much gossip. Ginny knew from past experience that only when the investigation was complete would any details be made public. Not that it would be conducted in complete secrecy, but Harry flatly refused to allow any of his Aurors to be put at undue risk, because some reporter had to have all the juicy details. Once an investigation began, it was under the oversight of MLE, and Hermione would sooner break her wand in half, than permit anything illegal to occur. There had been numerous attempts by the reporters who covered the Ministry to persuade Ginny to reveal some of the details, trying to play on her reporter's sympathies to actually report the news and her obvious connections to Harry Potter. Ginny firmly rebuffed them every time. They generally left her alone now.
She dropped the paper next to the articles and ran lightly up the stairs. Instead of turning into her bedroom, she went to the end of the corridor and reached into the back of the airing cupboard and pulled out a set of sheets for their bed. She went into the bedroom and set the sheets in the small armchair before ducking into the bathroom for a hasty wash. Ginny threw on some clothes from the "work" section of her wardrobe, then tugged the sheets off the bed, swiftly making it up again, tucking the sheets in tightly, the way Harry liked it. She reckoned she could have bounced a Knut off the mattress, had she so desired. Ginny bundled the sheets she'd removed from the bed into the basket in the corner of the bedroom, and placed a clean set of pajamas on the foot of the bed. She was about to put fresh towels in the bathroom when she heard the back door open and slam shut. 'Ginny!' Teddy's voice carried from the kitchen. 'Ginny! Are you here?'
'I'm up here!' she replied.
Teddy pounded up the stairs and poked his head in the doorway. 'Do you have a tablecloth?'
Ginny blinked at Teddy's cheerful attitude. 'Whatever for?'
'I'm having Vic over for dinner tonight.'
Ginny blanched. 'Are you cooking?' she asked fearfully.
Teddy sighed. 'No. I'm getting takeaway from Vic's favorite Chinese place.'
'What do you need the tablecloth for, then?'
Teddy's hair briefly flashed pink, giving him a startling resemblance to his mother before it returned to its blazing turquoise. 'We're just having dinner,' he mumbled.
'Just dinner?' Ginny said dryly.
'Dessert, too,' Teddy admitted, finding something of great interest on the toes of his shoes.
'It sounds like you're planning a nice evening,' Ginny said softly, looking down at her hands. She didn't want to tell him about Kathleen. He'd worked with her from time to time, and while they weren't necessarily close, he'd known her most of his life.
'Yeah...' Teddy said cautiously.
Ginny drew a deep breath. 'Have you had breakfast yet?'
Teddy shook his head. 'Not yet.'
'Are you hungry?'
'I could eat...' he said cautiously.
'I'll get you that tablecloth, too,' Ginny told him.
Teddy began to walk down the stairs. 'Ginny?'
'Yes?'
'Vic's going to spend the night,' he said softly.
'I see.' Ginny kept her face smoothly neutral, trying not to goggle at Teddy in surprise. She was frankly startled it had taken them this long.
'Erm... I've got everything covered,' Teddy coughed.
'Ah.' Ginny followed Teddy into the kitchen, and began to take eggs from the refrigerator.
'It's just you're sort of like my mum,' Teddy began. 'I... erm... I didn't want you to worry,' he gulped, dropping into a chair at the table.
Ginny set the eggs on the counter, and jabbed her wand at the cupboard. Two pans flew out and landed on top of the stove. She didn't quite know what to say. She ran a hand over Teddy's hair, gently brushing it out of his eyes. 'Thanks, Teddy,' she said at length. She turned to the stove, waving her wand at the eggs. 'I'm glad to hear that some of what we told you managed to stick.'
Teddy traced a pattern on the table top. 'I'm a little nervous...' he confessed.
Ginny pulled a tin of tea leaves down from the cupboard. 'I'm not sure I should be the one telling you this, but...' She heaved a sigh. 'Take your time. It's better for... her...' She could feel a flush creep up her neck and cheeks. She swallowed heavily. 'Tea?'
Hermione flicked her wand absently at a towering bookcase behind her desk. Two large, heavy tomes floated weightlessly to her desk, landing soundlessly at her elbow. Even in his increasing weariness, Harry still marveled at her seemingly effortless spellwork. 'So you don't quite trust Percy to find a loophole for you?' she said, smirking slightly.
'Not especially,' Harry murmured. 'He seemed reluctant to even try earlier.'
Hermione's smirk grew wider. 'So I'm your insurance, then?'
'Yeah, I suppose.' Harry set the tip of his wand on the cover on the nearest book. 'Juris expiscor.' The cover flew open and several pages ruffled before the book came to a rest on a page midway through. He squinted at the tiny, squiggly print, rubbing his burning eyes. 'According to this, I can file each charge separately, and combine the grace period before the investigation has to start.'
'That's a little unethical, don't you think?' Hermione asked.
'A bit. But let's put it down, anyway.'
Hermione scribbled on a piece of parchment. 'Is it still legal?'
'I thought that was your job,' Harry sighed.
'There's a notation at the end,' she muttered. 'When it gets superseded or amended. Check to see if one is there.'
Harry trailed a finger down the endless tiny lines of print until he came to the end of entry for the law. 'Don't see one. What would it look like?'
Hermione stretched her arms over her head. 'Usually, it'll say something like "Law negated by the Auror Abuse Prevention Law of 1932," or something like that. Are you sure it's not there?'
Harry shook his head. 'Yes. Nothing here.'
'Fine...' Hermione paged through the book in front of her. 'I could have sworn attempted murder was automatically granted an additional grace period.'
'Wasn't that changed?' Harry asked, confused. 'After the war, I thought that was changed, so it was aligned with the laws regarding other crimes so investigations didn't get dragged on and on. Speedy trials and all that.' Harry's lip curled slightly in distaste. 'Merlin, we were bloodthirsty then...'
'Damn,' Hermione breathed. 'I forgot about that.'
Harry picked up the roll of parchment and tore off the end of it, containing the one law he and Hermione had been able to find after searching most of the morning. 'I think this is my best hope.'
'What's he charged with?'
'Attempted murder, murder, use of an Unforgivable...' Harry slumped in the chair. 'And that's just from last night.'
'Ouch.' Hermione whistled softly. 'He's going to be in for a good long time, then.'
'Barring something we don't know about.'
Hermione's eyes narrowed. She'd heard Harry use that musing tone for too many years. 'You think he was Imperiused or something?'
Harry stuffed the parchment into his pocket and spread his hands wide. 'This is magic. Anything's possible.' He managed to get to his feet and shuffled toward the door. 'Thanks, Hermione...'
Harry stood on the street outside the Oxford Circus Tube station in the brisk November wind. It seemed to cut through the wool of his coat, making him shiver slightly. He bent his head against the wind and trudged down the sidewalk, heading for Teddy's flat. The last thing he wanted to do today was ruin Teddy's day, but he had to ask Teddy about the man they'd captured last night. Harry couldn't remember how much he'd told Teddy about the case, but he had discussed parts of it with him, and Teddy had been involved with quite a few of the late-night Muggle-baiting clean-ups. But he didn't think Teddy would actively put an ongoing investigation in jeopardy.
He pulled open the door of the building and stood in the foyer, contemplating the twisting stairs that led up to the fifth floor and Teddy's flat. They never looked longer. Harry grasped the banister and hauled himself up the narrow stairs until he found himself in front of Teddy's door. He raised a fist and knocked softly on the door.
Teddy's head flew up as he looked down at his watch. 'Buggering hell!' he muttered. Victoire was early, and he wasn't even close to being ready for her. He staggered to the door, clutching a handful of candles to his chest. He yanked open the door and felt his mouth drop open. 'You're not Vic,' he said accusingly.
'No...' Harry tilted his head toward the inside of the flat. 'Can I come in for a bit?'
'Sure...' Teddy stepped back and let Harry step through the door. 'What's going on?'
Harry stood on the threshold of the sitting room and turned back to Teddy. 'Is this a bad time?' Small candles were clustered around the sitting room, a new rug was rolled up in front of the fireplace, and the room itself was redolent of furniture polish and Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover. He could see a bouquet of flowers, still wrapped in paper on the kitchen table. The flat itself was unnaturally clean -- almost painfully so.
Teddy shrugged. 'I've got some time.'
Harry shook his head. 'No, it's all right. I mean Vic's coming over and how long has it been since you two had a nice evening together?'
'A while,' Teddy admitted. 'But she's not supposed to be here for a few more hours.' Teddy dropped the candles into small glass holders lined up on the mantle and turned to Harry. 'Go, sit. Can I get you anything?'
'No, I'm fine...' Harry gingerly lowered himself into one of Teddy's battered armchairs. 'Thanks.'
Teddy kicked the rug, making it unfurl over the polished floor. It lay there, almost uneasily in its surroundings. 'So...?'
Harry laced his fingers together. 'Have you seen the paper today?'
'No. I don't subscribe to it, since there's usually a copy lying around in the Obliviators' office. And it's been my off week.'
Harry leaned back into the cushions of the chair and soberly took in his godson. 'Kathleen died last night.'
Teddy inhaled sharply. 'How...?'
'She threw herself in front of a Killing curse.' Harry rubbed his gritty eyes. 'Protecting Dudley and Aaron.'
'Oh...' Teddy moved to the sofa and dropped down on it. 'Did you find who did it?'
Harry sighed and pulled a creased photograph from the pocket of his coat. 'Do you know him?'
Teddy took the photograph and flipped it between his fingers so it was upright. 'He works on my shift... It's Joel Anderson. He was in my year at school. We play chess together while we're waiting around the office for an incident.'
Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 'Have you ever told him anything that you and I have discussed privately about the Muggle-baiting case?' he asked harshly.
Teddy recoiled slightly. 'Of course not,' he said, a flash of hurt in his eyes.
'Nothing about the discussions we've had about memory modification?'
'I said I didn't say anything!' Teddy pushed himself to his feet and began to pace, nudging the rug into place. 'I'm not one of your bloody probation interviews,' he muttered.
'Has he ever mentioned this to you?' Harry continued. 'Any of it? Any of his involvement in this group?'
Teddy stopped in front of Harry. 'Don't you think if he had, I would have said something to you?'
'I suppose...'
Teddy strode to the door and yanked it open. 'I think you need to leave.'
'Teddy...'
'Damn it, Harry! You're practically my father, for Godric's sake! You're supposed to trust me. And you're sitting here, acting like I've been withholding information!'
'I just need to make sure,' Harry said, feeling every second of the past fifteen hours. He was beyond tired. 'I've been working on this case for more than three years. I've run into nothing but dead ends until last night. And I lost one of my best Aurors in the process. And damn near lost yet another family member. I cannot leave anything unexamined.'
'So you're just going to assume I might have slipped and told Joel about a couple of conversations we've had? That's just brilliant,' Teddy snarled.
'I never said you were an accomplice,' Harry stated flatly.
'You might as well have,' Teddy muttered mutinously. 'Could you go now, please? I have things I need to do.' He waited by the open door until Harry painfully managed to stand up and stumble out into the corridor, then slammed it shut.
Harry opened the door of the house, half-hoping Ginny was home. His stomach burned with something he couldn't identify and he didn't want to be alone just now. He closed the door behind him quietly. 'Ginny?' The sound of silence greeted him. 'Gin, are you home?' he called, dragging himself toward the office just enough to discover it was empty. Nodding to himself, Harry grasped the banister of the stairs and hauled himself up to his bedroom. The sight of the pajamas perched on the foot of the bed made him stop. The bed itself was made and turned back invitingly. Am I that predictable? he thought ruefully.
Harry toed off his trainers and began to slowly peel off his clothing. Dimly, he realized this had nothing of the frantic necessity to rid himself of the memory of dealing with Death Eaters. But he still needed the enforced solitude so he could grieve. It wasn't something he would do publicly. He made his way into the bathroom, and turned on the taps in the bathtub, waiting for the water to heat up. As he stepped into the tub, his foot caught on the edge, and he pitched forward, landing awkwardly on his hands and knees, cursing loudly at the pain. Harry eased the rest of his leg into the tub, and sat, leaning against the side, letting the water pour over him.
There were too many things to process -- seeing the look of fear in Aaron's eyes, as Harry explained what had happened and why; Kathleen's unnaturally still face and Iain's grief-stricken one; the blistering row with Teddy.
There wasn't much he could do about Aaron and Dudley. Not until they made a decision one way or another to have their memories modified. At least they were being watched, and were safe for now.
As for Teddy, Harry supposed he would also have to wait until both of them were more settled. Harry hadn't meant to attack Teddy so harshly, but he needed to make sure Teddy hadn't inadvertently let something slip. He imagined this Joel Anderson would have managed to glean information on his own, given he was often present after an incident. He hadn't been thinking clearly when he knocked on Teddy's door.
He pulled his knees up into his chest and buried his face in them. Oh, Kathleen... He felt a tremor run through his body and gave up trying to suppress it any longer. Hot tears trickled down his cheeks, mingling with the water that dripped off his hair. He'd first noticed Kathleen during the first few rounds of various obstacle courses they did with the seventh year students at Hogwarts who were interested in becoming Aurors. It tended to weed out the merely hopeful from the ones who were serious. It wasn't her skill that tipped Harry's interest. It had been the way she completed each task, absorbing her failures with a fierce concentration as she analyzed what had gone wrong precisely, then proceeded to integrate it into her next go. The aloof reserve that had gradually ebbed, the longer she worked with the other Aurors to the point where she had been visibly moved when Iain and Brianna asked her to be their first child's godmother.
Harry had to convince the Head Auror at the time to allow Kathleen to join them. Christianne Gibson hadn't liked Slytherins, and the mere fact that Kathleen had been Sorted into that house at school was a black mark on her record as far as Gibson was concerned. Harry had argued loudly and repeatedly at length about how good Kathleen could be, until he finally enlisted the help of the other Aurors who had observed Kathleen at school to help persuade Gibson she would be an asset. That was the year Harry had been put in charge of the trainee program. He'd been so proud of Kathleen when she finished it, and he was able to walk her through the process of joining the Ministry as a formal employee. She could hardly contain her glee when he pinned the small silver badge on her collar, smiling widely at him.
He lifted his face toward the spray from the shower, letting it flow over his swollen eyes and sore cheeks. Tears welled up again before Harry could collect himself. He let his head rest against the cool tile of the wall behind him and allowed himself weep. His eyes closed against the trickle of hot water cascading over his face, and he sat there, arms still tightly wrapped around his knees, mourning the loss of a person who was a colleague, protégé, and friend.
Time slowed to a standstill when he was in the shower, Harry reflected as he reached up with one hand and twisted the taps off, the sudden silence deafeningly loud after the rush of water against the porcelain. He never realized how long he'd been hiding until he looked at his hands. They were shriveled into deep, painful ridges -- the kind he'd gotten as a child when Petunia had made him wash every dish, saucepan, or skillet in the kitchen. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the tub and pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he carefully stepped out of the tub, clinging to the wall. He reached for a towel and wrapped it around his hips before shuffling back into the bedroom.
Ginny was sprawled in the armchair, a book in her hands. 'Hi...'
Harry dropped the towel and pulled the t-shirt she had left on the bed over his head, inhaling the clean, crisp scent of the laundry soap they used as it slithered over his head. He picked up the worn pajama bottoms and perched on the edge of the bed to work them over his feet and up his legs. 'I take it you saw the paper this morning,' he said softly.
Ginny nodded, closing her book. 'Brianna sent an owl while you were in there,' she told him, tracing the embossed cover with a fingertip. 'The funeral's Friday.'
'All right.' Harry fell back and crawled under the bedding, pulling it up around his ears. 'It was Dudley and Aaron. They had Sarah with them,' he said dully. 'And Kathleen...' His voice trailed off, hitching slightly. He peeped at Ginny over the edge of the quilt. 'And I went behind Percy's back to make Hermione help me find a law to circumvent the one week time limit I have before I can start investigating the git that did it.'
'Did you find one?'
Harry smirked mirthlessly. 'Yes. And I don't really care at this moment that it isn't quite ethical...'
Ginny set her book down and walked over to the bed, clambering onto it next to Harry. 'How unethical is it? A little bit or so far over the line, you crossed it ten miles ago?'
Harry sighed. 'Does it really matter? It's still unethical. It's like being a little bit pregnant, isn't it? You're still pregnant in the end.'
Ginny glanced down at Harry and pulled her wand from her pocket. She waved it over his head, and dried most of the water from his hair. It had been sopping wet. 'Depends on you, doesn't it? What your intent is.'
'I'm not looking to make him suffer,' Harry sighed. 'I just can't do it yet. I just needed a couple of extra days.' He wrapped his hand around Ginny's wrist, feeling the pulse bump steadily under his fingers. 'I've never lost anyone I've trained...'
Ginny's free hand began to stroke Harry's slightly damp hair. 'I know.'
'And just before I came home, I had an awful row with Teddy...'
Ginny's hand stilled in Harry's hair. 'About what? You didn't try to talk him out of his evening, did you?'
'No... Teddy and I have talked about things I've used to try and solve this. I wanted to see if he'd said anything...'
'And you were your usual subtle self, eh?' Ginny drawled, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.
'Yeah. About as subtle as sledgehammer...' Harry's eyes closed. 'I made him think I didn't trust him...'
'But you do,' Ginny said.
'It didn't sound that way,' Harry admitted. 'I all but accused him of yakking about it to everyone in the Obliviator department.'
'You didn't...' Ginny breathed.
'I did.' Harry burrowed into his pillow. 'Do you think he'll be able to forgive me...?'
Ginny slid down so she faced Harry. 'Probably. It's not as if the two of you haven't gotten into it before.'
Harry snorted. 'But that was when he was young and stupid.'
'Look, for all intents and purposes, you're Teddy's father, all right? Children get into spats with their parents. It happens. It happens with James all the time. And you don't get quite so bothered by it. Neither of you were quite thinking clearly. When things settle, so will the two of you...'
'I hope you're right...' Harry yawned.
'You know I am,' Ginny murmured. 'Go on and go to sleep. Tomorrow will be...' She hesitated. "Better" wasn't the word she wanted to use. 'Another day...'
FORTY SEVEN -- Chocolate Moonbeams
Teddy stood next to the door, listening to the sound of Harry's footsteps fade. When he was certain Harry wasn't going to come back, Teddy stalked into his bedroom, and began to yank the sheets off the bed. He had exactly two sets. One was emblazoned with the logo of the Pride of Portree, his favorite Quidditch team when he was younger, and a somewhat elderly set he unearthed from the back of the hall cupboard where Andromeda kept such things. However, Teddy didn't think it would be a good thing for his first night with Victoire if she had to deal with old Quidditch logo sheets. He wadded the old sheets into a bundle, and carried them into the small bedroom on the other side of the flat. Nobody ever slept there, but Teddy kept a spare bed, just in case. Normally, he used it as a glorified laundry basket. He spread the new sheets over the mattress and began to tuck it under.
It wasn't the first argument he'd had with Harry over the years. Normally, Harry had a great deal more patience with him than he had with his own children. Teddy sometimes felt it was because Harry felt sorry for him, and that made him angry. Especially when he was younger. Teddy didn't want special treatment from Harry, just because his parents were dead. But still, they'd had their fair share of blowups over the years -- over the normal things -- curfews, not tidying his room enough, Teddy's almost fiendish delight in doing something like quickly changing his hair or eye color at his Muggle primary school to the point where it drove his poor teacher to tears. Somehow, then, Harry's shouting at Teddy seemed to make him feel better. Because it wouldn't raise Harry's ire so much if he didn't care. Right?
As Teddy stuffed the pillows into their pillowcases, he replayed the argument with Harry in his head. It was the idea that Harry didn't trust him that bothered Teddy. He had always trusted Teddy before. Teddy savagely punched the pillow he was holding. He wanted to finish getting things ready for Victoire, but he couldn't think straight. 'Sod it,' he muttered, throwing the pillow on the bed. He walked out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.
James slid into a place at the Gryffindor table next to Isabella, who was frowning at that morning's paper. 'What's the news, Iz? Peace and prosperity as usual?' he scoffed.
Isabella glanced at James, pushing her curly hair behind her ears. 'How well do you know the Aurors?'
James shrugged. 'I know most of them by name. There's a few Al, Lils, and I know pretty well.'
Isabella bit her lip and put the paper on the table. 'How well did you know her?' she asked, the tip of one finger resting on the edge of a photograph. It was a copy of an official Ministry photo.
'That's Kathleen... She used to watch us when Andromeda couldn't. Especially before Teddy was old enough to watch us and after he started school...' James's dark blue gaze swiveled up to Isabella. 'What did she do? Catch some old Death Eater who's been hiding in a cave the last twenty years?'
'She's dead...'
'What do you mean, "she's dead"?'
Isabella turned the paper over. 'According to this, she was protecting a Muggle couple. Someone was trying to use a Killing curse on them...'
'Why would someone do that?' James asked, bewildered.
'What? Protect someone else?' Isabella gave James an incredulous look, as if to say, How can you ask that, considering who your father is...?
James shook his head. 'No... Try to kill someone... It's so... pointless...'
Isabella watched James stare sightlessly at the food on the table. 'Are you going to tell Al and Lily?'
'Huh?' James blinked several times.
'Al and Lily?' she prompted.
'No... I... I'll take care of it...' With that, James stood up headed for the doorway, grabbing Isabella's paper, as he sidled out of the bench.
'James!' Jacob said gaily as James trudged out of the Great Hall. 'James...? Hey, James, Fred and I have got the perfect thing to launch the water... James...?' He watched James wander dazedly up the stairs toward Gryffindor tower. Jacob slid into James' abandoned seat. 'Iz, what's up with James? He'd never pass up a chance to lob water balloons at Greengrass' lot.'
'It's nothing, Jake,' Isabella murmured, ladling soup into her bowl.
'When's the next practice, then?' Jacob asked. 'We need to give Nicky, Alex, and Sophie some practice time, if they're going to be any good as subs.'
Isabella glanced at the paper next to her plate. 'Maybe Saturday.' She heaved a soft sigh. 'We'll have to see, all right?'
Jacob paused in the act of slathering a roll with butter. 'Is there something wrong, Iz?'
'No.' Isabella felt a twinge as she smoothly lied to Jacob. They didn't keep many secrets amongst themselves, but she had the feeling this was something James wanted to deal with privately for now.
Lily gazed at James curiously. She couldn't recall a time when James had been so disinterested in food. Ginny always joked that he ate like Ron, and Lily had grown up seeing how much Ron could put away at meals. It was truly astonishing. Normally, James nearly inhaled his food, rather like the Hoover, but tonight, he merely pushed it around his plate, the gravy on his potatoes congealing into rivulets of goo. 'You all right?' she asked. 'If you're sick, you ought to go see Madam Pomfery.'
James shook his head. 'I'm not sick, Lils,' he told her.
'Then what's the problem?' Al interjected.
'Not now.' James swung his feet over the bench and stood up. 'I'll be in my dormitory,' he added.
Al watched James leave, and waited several minutes, before he, too, left the Great Hall, and slipped into Gryffindor tower. Al swiftly went up the stairs, bypassing James' dormitory door, continuing up to his own. He pulled open the drawer of his night table and took out a large bar of chocolate. He tucked it into his pocket, and went back to the door of the fourth year boys' dormitory.
He stood in front of the door, hesitating, then tried the doorknob. It twisted easily under his hand and he peered through the crack in the door. 'James...?'
'I don't need a nursemaid,' James growled from his bed.
'Wasn't planning on trying,' Al retorted, pulling the chocolate from his pocket. 'Want some?'
James held up a half-eaten bar of Honeydukes' chocolate. 'Way ahead of you, bro...' He pushed himself into a sitting position and waved at the foot of the bed, by way of invitation. He eyed Al as he settled on the foot, his back against one of the bed posts. 'I see Dad's indoctrinated you, as well.'
'What? That chocolate makes you feel better?'
James nodded, breaking off a small piece and popping it into his mouth.
Al shrugged. 'Doesn't hurt, at any rate...' He nudged one of James' feet. 'So?'
'So...?'
'What's got your knickers in a twist, eh?'
James sighed, and reached under his pillow of the copy of the Prophet Isabella had been reading at lunch. 'The story under the fold. Left side...'
Al took the paper from James and flipped it over. His eyes darted from side to side as he skimmed over the brief story. 'Oh.' He began to peel back the wrapper from his chocolate. 'Told Lily yet?'
'No. Can't figure out how...'
Both boys munched their chocolate for a moment. It wasn't Lily's ability to handle someone dying that gave them pause. It was how she had idolized the other Aurors that worked with Harry. On more than one occasion when Lily was younger, they had caught her pretending to be an Auror, while her stuffed animals were Dark wizards and witches she tracked down and arrested, using a twig from the elm tree as an erstwhile wand. It was something they all had done. But Lily had enjoyed Kathleen's time with them immensely. She could usually cajole Kathleen into demonstrating various charms and hexes for them, something Kathleen always prefaced with, 'Don't tell your father I did this...'
'Maybe we could get Izzy to tell her,' ventured Al.
James hitched one shoulder. 'Maybe.'
'Hey, Al?' Lily's head poked through the door. James quickly folded the paper, hiding the photograph of Kathleen. 'Max, Sebastian, Anil, and Scorpius said they'd meet you in the library...'
'Oh, bugger...' muttered Al. He'd forgotten about the test in Potions the next day.
Lily would normally have informed Al to, 'watch his bloody language, for Merlin's sake...' But she had spied the paper on the bed between her brothers and drew closer to see it. 'I know that place,' she said, pointing to the photograph that displayed several Aurors and Obliviators milling about a street.
'Don't be daft, Lils,' James scoffed. 'It looks like a hundred other Muggle streets in London.'
Lily's lips thinned and she pressed them together in an effort to rein in her temper. She detested it when her brothers dismissed off the mere idea that she might actually know something they didn't. 'I know I've seen that street before,' she insisted. 'With Mum and Dad.'
'Whatever,' James huffed.
Lily's index finger jabbed the paper, making it crackle. 'In April. Dad, Mum, Teddy, and I went to this church in Barkingside for some do for Sarah. Holy... Holy Something...' she muttered. 'Holy Trinity, maybe...? Anyway,' she said, brushing the detail aside, 'I remember that street. We walked past it from the Underground station to the church.' She picked up the paper, examining the photo more closely. 'That can't be...' The paper rose an inch or two until it nearly touched the tip of her nose. 'Look...' she breathed. 'It's Dad's cousin...'
'You're imagining things,' James sneered. 'It can't be.'
'It is. Just look!' Lily held the paper out to James and Al, her finger pointing at Dudley and Aaron, half-hidden, as people milled about in front of them.
Al's mouth dropped open. 'That must be who...'
'What?' Lily's antenna sprang up. 'That must be who... what?'
James exchanged a glance with Al, before he broke off a piece of his chocolate bar and handed it to Lily, before he unfurled the paper and brushed a finger over the story about Kathleen. Lily's eyes widened at the story, but she remained remarkably calm. Her fingers curled around the chocolate, and soon it oozed between them as it melted. She looked down at her hand in surprise, and walked out of James' dormitory without another word.
Teddy lay on the sofa, curled into a ball, his knees pulled into his middle. He groaned softly in discomfort, wondering if he had indeed inherited his father's ability to consume vast amounts of chocolate. 'Ohhhhhhhh,' he moaned into a small pillow. His stomach roiled under the influence of six of Honeydukes' largest bars of chocolate, each the size of a small slab. Normally, he would have been able to share it with James, Al, and Lily, and still have enough left over for Harry, Ginny, and Victoire.
He had just wanted the ache in his heart to go away. Chocolate had usually been able to make him feel better, just like his father had promised in his last few journal entries. He kept shoveling chocolate into his mouth, hoping the sense of dejection that settled in his middle would melt with the warmth chocolate usually brought, but it didn't work. It hadn't worked through the six bars of chocolate, the four cups of hot chocolate, and the double-fudge sundae he'd managed to choke down at Fortescue's. Maybe I should have stopped after the fifth bar of chocolate... he mused, curling into a tighter ball. At this point, Teddy didn't want to see a piece of chocolate again for a good, long while.
Not for a few days, at least...
The soft knocking sounds worked their way through the cloud of misery that surrounded Teddy. He rolled off the sofa, and shuffled to the door, grimacing as he attempted not to vomit. He slowly opened the door and exhaled gustily at the sight of Victoire, standing nervously on the doormat, clutching her old schoolbag. 'Please tell me you're early...' he begged.
'Actually, I'm late,' she told him. 'Quite late. It's nearly seven.' Victoire sidled around Teddy and used a finger to tilt his chin up toward the light. 'You look awful,' she commented. 'Are you feeling unwell?'
Teddy shook his head. 'Too much...' He gulped. 'Chocolate.'
Victoire whistled softly and steered Teddy into the kitchen, urging him into a chair. She pulled a small kit from her bag and set it on the counter. She picked up Teddy's teapot and tapped it with her wand, filling it with boiling water. Victoire took a small ginger root from the kit and took a knife from a drawer, thinly slicing part of the root and dropping the pieces into the teapot. 'We'll just let that sit for a bit,' she murmured soothingly, taking the chair next to Teddy. 'So what brought on the chocolate binge?' she asked conversationally.
'Fight with Harry,' Teddy mumbled.
VIctoire rested her elbows on the table and gazed at Teddy. 'You've had a row with Harry before,' she pointed out.
Teddy slumped forward and let his head rest on the table. 'I know...' He turned his head so he could see Victoire. 'This was different. It wasn't like when they found us snogging in that old tree house at the Burrow.'
'Oh, that was bad...' Victoire said wryly. She could swear her ears were still ringing from the verbiage her parents had unleashed on her.
'Yeah, but after everybody calmed down, he came up to my room at his house and we had a chat about it all, and it was all right.'
'So what was this one about?'
Teddy made a muffled grunting sound, and wrapped his arms around his stomach. 'How long 'til that tea's ready?'
'About ten more minutes.'
Teddy exhaled through his nose. 'You know those Muggle baitings?' When Victoire nodded, he continued. 'One of his Aurors died last night. Protecting his cousin...' Teddy's mouth crimped and he bolted from the table. He stumbled into the bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and began to throw up.
He didn't hear Victoire follow him or turn on the faucet to soak a face cloth. She wrung the cloth out and laid it on the back of Teddy's neck. 'Feel better?'
Teddy pulled the cloth from his neck and used it to wipe his clammy face. 'Some,' he admitted.
'You want me to go home?' Victoire asked gently. 'We can do this another time...'
'No!' Teddy sat back against the tub. 'You don't get another few days off like this until when? April? May?'
'June...'
'I'll be fine in a bit... Just too much chocolate...' Teddy reached forward and flushed the toilet. 'Just give me a minute...' He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his toothbrush. 'Let me brush my teeth,' he mumbled.
'All right...' Victoire slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She went back into the sitting room and grabbed her bag and took it into Teddy's bedroom. She stopped just inside the door and gasped softly, looking around her. Small candles dotted every available surface, flickering in the darkness. He had scattered small bouquets of flowers around the room and even turned down the carefully made bed. 'Oh...' she breathed, feeling tears prickle behind her eyelids. He'd even swept the dust bunnies that seemed to take up permanent residence in the corners of the bedroom.
She dropped the bag at the foot of bed and waited for Teddy to come out of the bathroom, standing next to the bed, facing the door. Presently, he appeared in the bedroom doorway and stood there, looking slightly apprehensive. He smiled crookedly and took a deep breath, before his eyes crossed slightly and his hair lengthened and grew heavier, falling into his eyes, fading from bright turquoise to its normal glimmering sandy hue. 'Thought you'd want me to do this as me...' He took a step into the bedroom.
Victoire snorted softly. 'I'd know it was you even if you decided you wanted to look like Felix from your year.' Felix had played Keeper for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He was well over six feet tall with chocolaty brown skin.
Teddy took another steady step into the room. 'Oh, you would, would you?'
'Yeah...' Victoire's head cocked to one side. 'Remember your seventh year? You kept hiding behind tapestries and jumping out at me, looking like Merlin-knew-who... And I always knew it was you.'
'Well, I suppose trying to look like the bloke from one of Harry's monster films was pushing the limits a bit...'
'Just a little,' Victoire agreed. 'And I never knew Frankenstein to have one of these...' She let her fingertips brush over Teddy's widow's peak.
Teddy grinned a little. 'Mum never could make hers disappear, either,' he said softly. 'Dad said it's how he used to recognize her when she was in disguise...' He slowly exhaled. 'I really miss them sometimes...'
'I know...'
'Which is kind of silly, when you think about it.'
'Not really.'
'Are you hungry?' Teddy asked, half hoping she'd say "no".
Victoire didn't miss the slight wince in Teddy's eyes. 'I'm all right. How long is Great Wall open? Midnight?'
'Yeah...'
Victoire took Teddy's hand and brought it up to her lips, and she softly kissed the palm. 'We've got all night, don't we?'
'Yeah...' Teddy's voice grew husky.
'And most of tomorrow, too...'
Teddy gestured awkwardly to the bed behind them. 'So do you want to...?' he muttered.
Victoire flashed a wide smile for a moment, then to Teddy's enormous surprise, giggled nervously. 'Would I be here if I didn't?' she asked shyly.
Teddy ran a hand through his hair and his nose wrinkled suddenly. 'Ginger...' he murmured.
'Oh! Hang on...' Victoire darted around him and padded into the kitchen. She pulled two cups from the cupboard and arranged them on a tray with the teapot and a small jar of honey. She carried it all back into the bedroom, and settled on the bed, setting the tray down in the middle of it. She poured a cup of the ginger tea and held it out to Teddy. He took the cup from her, his fingers brushing against hers, sending tingles up her arm.
Teddy gingerly sat on the other side, cradling the hot cup between his palms. 'Oh, the romance,' he muttered.
'What's that?'
He sighed and leaned back against the headboard, sipping his tea. 'Here I'd planned this romantic evening, and we're spending it dealing with my chocolate overdose.'
'I don't mind...' Victoire handed her cup to Teddy. 'Hold this for a mo, would you?' She began to wriggle out of the heavy jumper she wore, tossing it aside carelessly. 'You always keep it too warm in here...'
'I do not,' Teddy protested, his eyes growing round at the form-fitting Manchester United t-shirt she wore under the jumper. 'Nice shirt.'
'Thanks.' Victoire tried to take her tea back from Teddy, but he had turned to set them both on the night table. She watched in bemusement as he used his wand to Banish the tray, still holding the teapot to the floor. He slid one hand into her hair and pulled her closer.
'I'm feeling lots better...' he told her, just before he kissed her.
'Have you seen Lily?' Al asked Hugo, who was sleepily packing his books into his bag.
Hugo shook his head. 'Not since after dinner. She was supposed to come work on a Charms essay with me, but didn't show up. Maddie said she wasn't in her dormitory, either. I thought she just went to the library and didn't say anything,' he yawned. 'Or maybe she did, and I didn't hear her... Happens with Rosie all the time,' Hugo mused, as he slung his bag over one shoulder.
Al stood in the middle of the rapidly clearing common room, chewing his lip, staring into the fire. Coming to a decision, he ran up the stairs to James' dormitory and burst through the door. 'Where's the map Dad gave you?' he asked, without preamble.
James looked up from his Arithmancy textbook, eyes narrow. 'Dad said it was for emergencies...'
'This is an emergency,' Al maintained. 'Lily's missing.'
James snorted. 'This is Hogwarts. She can't get very far.'
'Yeah, but it's way past curfew, and she could be anywhere.'
James slowly closed his book and crawled to the foot of his bed. He tugged the lid of his trunk open and reached inside, pulling out a battered copy of Unfogging the Future. He flipped open the cover, revealing a cut-out section of the book filled with a rather manky looking wad of parchment. James glanced around the dormitory and jerked his head toward the door. 'Come on...' He led Al down to the common room, peering through the dim firelight. 'Doesn't seem to be anyone else here...' He held the tip of his wand to the parchment. 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good.'
Spidery lines of ink spun out from the center of the parchment, forming the outlines of Hogwarts. Al took his wand from his pocket and muttered, 'Lumos.' He held it over the parchment, training the light over Gryffindor tower. 'Maybe she came back and nobody saw her...'
'Could be,' James agreed. 'She's quite small...' His fingertip trailed over the side of the tower that held the girls' dormitories. 'Izzy, Maddie, Rosie, Sophie... No Lily.' He set the map on a table and lit his own wand.
'She's not in the library, either,' Al added.
'Brilliant.' James ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out even more, then rubbed his eyes. 'Dad didn't tell me how bloody small the print was...'
'I think...' Al leaned closer until his nose nearly touched the parchment. 'Yeah, I think that's her...'
'Where?' James leaned in for a closer look, his head colliding painfully with Al's. 'Owwww.'
'You've got Mum's hard head,' Al groaned, rubbing the side of his head, over his ear.
James furiously rubbed the top his head, eyes watering. 'If I've got Mum's hard head, you've got Grandmum's,' he retorted. He blinked a few times, then resumed staring at the map.
The dot labeled "Lily Potter" was at the top of the Astronomy tower.
'Bloody hell, how cold is it up there right now?' James breathed.
'Dunno.' Al's fingers began to drum restlessly on the table. 'Come on, Lily... Come back down...'
James' foot wiggled impatiently. She's not moving... 'Right. Go get your cloak. Meet me back here.'
It had started innocently enough. Their first kiss in the tree house when she was fourteen and he sixteen. Her father had been beyond outraged. Livid, actually. By contrast, her mother had been rather amused. But to the two of them, it had been... Logical. They'd spent their entire lives in each other's back pockets. Best friends. Even when the boys in his dormitory took the mickey out of him for having a girl as a best friend.
She had known. Maybe as far back as that first kiss.
But she hadn't been prepared for this.
Their bodies weren't exactly uncharted territories for either of them. She knew the lines and hollows of his as well as her own.
She thought she had understood the concept of intimacy before. There wasn't anything he didn't know about her and she knew more about him than perhaps his own godfather.
But this...
As a Healer trainee, Victoire could have given Teddy a clinical definition of sex. The textbook definition was dry and dispassionate. Almost something of an "insert tab B into slot A" sort of thing.
Despite what she had known before, this was a complete surprise.
Allowing another person into her body took the concept of intimacy far beyond what she had previously recognized. It sounded like a ridiculously trite cliché, but she couldn't tell where his body ended and hers began. If they used words, they had been lost in the murmurs, sighs, and kisses.
Victoire had learned something else new that night.
Words were unnecessary.
Al clattered into his dormitory and snatched his cloak off its hook. 'Where're you going?' Scorpius asked curiously. 'It's after eleven...'
Al hesitated, swinging his cloak over his shoulders and fastening it at his throat before he replied. 'Looking for Lily...' he mumbled.
Scorpius said nothing, but slid off his bed. He dropped to his knees next to his bed and unearthed his trainers, then found a thick jumper and pulled it over his pajamas. He grabbed his cloak and walked past Al. 'Let's go...'
Al followed Scopius. 'Go back to the dormitory!' he hissed. 'You'll get in trouble!'
'And you won't?' Scorpius glared at Al.
Al's mouth snapped shut. 'Fine,' he muttered. 'It's on your head, though.' He continued down the twisty stairs, nearly running into James at the bottom.
'Oh, good. You brought backup.' James wound his scarf around his neck. 'Knowing Lily, she'll get all arse over elbow and won't listen to anybody. She's worse than Dad...' He strode to the portrait hole, head bent over the map. 'All right... Filch and his damn cat are down by the Slytherin dungeon. We'll have to hurry, though.'
'What is that...?' Scorpius craned his head to look around James' arm at the map.
'I'll tell you later,' Al murmured.
They stole through the castle, stopping occasionally to consult the map, and after more than thirty minutes, carefully opened the door that would take them to the top of the Astronomy tower.
Lily was huddled under a parapet, wrapped in her cloak. Al hurried over to her, crouching down, so he could train the light of his wand on her face. Her lips were faintly blue. 'Lily...?' Her gaze flicked dully to him and a fine tremor ran through her body. 'Let's go back inside, eh? You must be freezing...'
James turned around and presented his back to her. 'Come on, Lils, I'll carry you...'
Al took Lily's hands and pulled her to her feet. James knelt so Lily could climb on his back.
'Wait.' Scorpius pulled his cloak off and wrapped it around Lily before putting a Warming charm over it. Lily leaned against James, and he hooked his arms around her knees, before standing.
'Take the map,' James grunted to Al, holding it between his fingertips. 'Check where Filch is...'
'Great Hall...' Al replied. 'But Mrs. Norris...'
'Shite, shite, shite...' James groaned. 'Don't tell me she's at the bottom of the tower.'
Al glanced up at his brother. 'All right. I won't.'
'That's not funny!' James huffed, shifting Lily to get a better grip on her.
'She's halfway between the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitories and the Great Hall.
'All right, then...' James nodded toward the door. 'Let's get back to Gryffindor...' Al pulled the door open and waited for the others to file through.
'I have a question...' Scorpius ventured.
'What's that?' Al examined the map with a worried frown creasing his face.
'How are we going to get Lily up to bed? Boys can't go up to the girls' dormitories...'
'I can put myself to bed...' Lily's voice quavered as she began to shiver in earnest.
'At the very worst, we can put her on the sofa...' James mused, as if Lily hadn't spoken.
'I don't need you to put me to bed!' protested Lily weakly.
'You don't get to talk right now,' James said rudely. 'You're the one that's been on top of the bleeding Astronomy tower for Merlin knows how long in below freezing temperatures, with just your cloak.' He tightened his grip on Lily's knees. 'What in the hell were you thinking?' he burst out angrily, but still whispering. 'Never mind. You weren't.'
'James...' Al nudged his brother's arm. 'Lay off...'
Lily sniffed and rubbed her nose against the back of James' cloak.
'Fine...' James said darkly. 'I'm still going to write to Mum and Dad about this...'
'Don't you think Lily feels bad enough?' Al retorted. 'I don't think you need to drag Mum and Dad into this, too.'
'Would you mind telling me why four Gryffindors are out after curfew?' The tart voice made the boys stop in their tracks.
'Oh, bloody, buggering...' James turned around to find McGonagall in a tartan dressing gown, with a tray containing a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits in one hand. 'Professor...'
Al hastily crammed the parchment into his pocket. 'Ma'am...' His voice died under the intensity of her glare.
Scorpius gulped then piped up, 'Lily didn't come back to the tower, Professor. We...' He trailed off, glancing at the other two, then bravely continued. 'We just wanted to make sure she was all right...'
McGonagall's lips thinned in manner that made the boys take an involuntary step backwards. 'Five points from Gryffindor. For each of you. And that includes you, Miss Potter.' Lily, peeping over James' shoulder, nodded. 'And detentions. I shall set them first thing tomorrow.'
'Yes, Professor,' Al muttered.
'I will escort you back to your dormitory,' McGonagall said dryly. 'In order to prevent any further incidents.'
'Thank you, Professor,' Scorpius murmured. 'Erm, Professor?'
'Yes, Mr. Malfoy?'
'Will you be writing to my parents about this...?' Scorpius felt the blood drain from his face.
'No, I think you have managed to get into enough trouble for one day.' McGonagall gestured with her free hand. 'After you.'
Teddy sat in the deep windowsill, watching Victoire sleep. She could sleep with total and complete abandon, sprawled across the bed, her hair fanned over both of their pillows. He remembered reading Remus' journal entry about his first night with Dora. Teddy had been deeply mortified, once he realized what his father had been talking about. He looked down at the journal in his lap, opened to an entry written in late June, just over nine months before he'd been born, the words illuminated by the moonbeams streaming into the window.
Remus had been somewhat bemused at the idea that he, a man of words, could not manage to find the right ones to describe exactly what had transpired in Dora's bed. Teddy hadn't understood why all the other times he had read his father's journals. But now, as he read what Remus had managed to say, Teddy could appreciate what words weren't able to say.
He didn't think his werewolf-enhanced senses would surge to the surface in the midst of sliding his hands under Victoire's shirt, but he supposed that might have counted as a high-stress situation. He could hear every hitched breath, every muffled moan; feel every beat of her pulse under his fingers. He could taste her with every breath he took, the tang that was uniquely hers melting into the back of his throat.
He remembered the first day he'd kissed Victoire. Bill had been incensed, but Teddy honestly couldn't remember when his hand had slipped down to Victoire's bum. He's been just as surprised as Bill to find his hand there. Harry had been nearly as irate, but Teddy privately thought it had more to do with Victoire's age. Later, after the little ones were in bed, Harry had ventured into Teddy's attic bedroom. Harry had said a lot of things Teddy didn't really understand at the time, but one thing had stood out.
'One day, Ted, you're going to find a woman you'll want to lose yourself in...'
'But how will I know...?'
'You'll know.'
Teddy traced the outline of a block in his quilt, then looked up at Harry. 'What if... What if it's Vic...?'
Harry was surprised, but not. Hadn't he known it was Ginny when he was Teddy's age? 'Just give it time.'
A/N: I'm very, very, very, very, very sorry... I accidentally posted after I ran a spell-check, and didn't hit 'save'... So very sorry. No wonder some of you have been wondering if the boys found Lily...
FORTY EIGHT -- Lingering Doubts
James let Lily slide off his back to the sofa and turned around to face her. 'Why did you do that?' he demanded.
'That's enough, James!' Al hissed. 'It's late, we're all tired, and yelling at Lily isn't going to change anything.'
'I-I-I-I just w-w-wanted to b-b-b-b-be alone f-f-f-f-for a b-b-b-b-bit.' Lily had begun to shiver as her body warmed. 'A-a-a-a-a-and th-th-th-there's no w-w-w-where to b-b-b-b-be alone here,' she wailed softly.
'That's a bad thing?' Scorpius had been silent to this point.
James exhaled strongly through his nose. 'Sometimes,' he muttered. 'You just want five minutes to yourself, and Merlin forbid you skip a meal or something. Four cousins will have written home to their parents by breakfast the next day, and the following breakfast, you get an anxious owl from home wondering why you're not eating...' He ran his hand through his hair, nearly yanking it in frustration. 'Let's just go to bed, then...' He speared Lily with a fierce look. 'You and I will have a word tomorrow about going off like that, you hear me?'
'You're not Dad,' Lily huffed.
'No, I'm not, but I'm still your older brother, and you're still an ickle firstie,' James retorted. 'After breakfast,' he promised, and made his way to the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. 'Absolutely, completely, and utterly without the sense,' he grumbled as he stormed up the stairs. 'Bloody Pygmy Puff has more sense...'
'He's really angry, isn't he?' Lily asked timidly.
Al shook his head. 'Just worried about you. Not that he'd admit it in public,' he added. 'Go on up to bed. We'll see you tomorrow.'
Lily nodded and slid off the sofa. 'Night...' She wriggled off the sofa, still tightly wrapped in Scorpius' cloak, stumbling toward the spiraling stairs that would take her to her dormitory.
Al glanced at Scorpius. 'I'm sorry about the detention,' he said gruffly.
Scorpius shrugged. 'I knew it was a risk going out after curfew like that,' he retorted. 'It's just one night. Won't kill me.' He turned and went to the other staircase, Al following behind.
'Thanks...'
Harry's spoon scraped along the bottom of the bowl. 'Did you owl the kids?' he asked suddenly.
Ginny reached for the box of cereal on the table and added more to her bowl. 'Yeah. I sent Ariel out before lunch.'
'You don't think they...' Harry began. He shook his head. 'Nah...'
'What?' Ginny reached for the milk jug between them.
Harry munched a spoonful of cereal. 'Read it in the paper,' he snorted. 'The only part that exists for them is the Quidditch page. The rest of it might as well be white noise.'
Ginny chewed slowly, running through the list of their nieces and nephews at the school. 'I don't think any them have a subscription...' she said distractedly.
'Who?'
'Oh, Izzy or Maddie... I don't think anyone younger than those two would take the paper. Maybe Parker would, but I'm not sure how often he would see James, Al, or Lily...' Ginny picked up her cup of tea and sipped it. 'I sent one to Neville, too,' she added. 'In case one them doesn't take it well...'
'You mean Lily,' Harry stated.
Ginny nodded. 'I think I should go up in the morning...'
Harry's spoon clattered in the bowl. 'Yeah, all right...'
'Are you going to go see Teddy?' Ginny prodded.
Harry sighed and pushed his empty bowl away. 'Probably,' he admitted. 'I need to apologize for yesterday... It wasn't his fault.'
Ginny jabbed her wand at Harry's empty bowl, sending it to the sink. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Sure,' Harry replied warily. He knew from years of experience, Ginny was about to force him to examine his motives. Not in a way that would cause him anguish, though -- she knew better than to do that.
'Why does it bother you so much to have a row with Teddy? I mean, you argued with him when he was younger, and it bothered you then, too.'
Harry swirled the tea in his cup. 'He's not...' He inhaled deeply. 'He's not mine...' he said quietly, resisting the urge to squirm like a child.
'Have you lost your mind?' Ginny asked, with an edge of incredulity.
'I didn't mean it like that,' insisted Harry. He set the cup down and nudged it aside. 'He doesn't have to come back,' he explained. When Ginny continued to look at him askance, he added, 'If I get angry with James, it's not the end of the world. And I know he's always going to come home, no matter what happens. But Teddy...' He looked up at Ginny. 'Remember the first big row we had when he was a teenager?'
'Hmmm... After we found him with Vic...?'
'Yeah.' Harry picked up the cup and sipped the tea. 'I mean, I know he was angry, but he was standing in the back garden, his hands clenched into fists, hair blazing like it was on fire, and he yelled I wasn't his dad, and he didn't have to listen to me. He stalked off, and I worried that he wouldn't come back. Because deep down... he's right. I am not his father. He doesn't have to love me, or even like me.'
Ginny stared at Harry for a moment before she said, 'You're such a git.'
'What?'
'You're a git,' she repeated. 'He chooses to come back. Every single day. So much so, that can you honestly believe it's a something he even has to think about anymore?'
Harry blinked.
'He may not call you "dad", but in the end, it's just a word, isn't it? You know that. You've known that for thirty years, so why is it different today?'
'I never questioned him like that before. I've always trusted him, and I just outright accused him of bungling a case...'
'And he'll forgive you,' Ginny said. 'Both of you were preoccupied and both of you can be a little...'
'Stubborn?'
'I was going to say oblivious, but stubborn works. Both of you can get wrapped up in what you're doing in any given moment.' Ginny eyed him for a moment. 'Stop it,' she ordered.
'Stop what?'
'Feeling guilty for doing something that was, at the time, a perfectly natural reaction. All you have to do it explain. He'll understand.' Ginny rose from her perch on top of the table and turned to place her bowl in the sink. 'And Harry?'
'What?' he huffed, only slightly mulishly.
'What ever you might find at Teddy's... Just... Stay calm, all right?' Ginny lightly walked out of the kitchen.
'What's that supposed to mean?' Harry called after her. 'Ginny! What's that supposed to mean...?'
Victoire's fingers drummed lightly against the top of the quilt. She'd been awake for some time. Teddy, on the other hand, could easily sleep until noon, if she let him. But she was hungry. Sure, she could have just gotten up, but that was easier said than done. Not for the first time, she cursed her long hair. Teddy was lying on it, effectively trapping Victoire in the bed. She didn't understand how on earth her mother dealt with it. But then again, Fleur always seemed to wake up looking like a figure in a painting. Victoire managed to turn her head to glance at Teddy. Maybe I ought to cut my hair after all, if it's going to be like this all the time... She heaved a sigh as her stomach rumbled audibly, picturing the row of white, waxy cartons lined up neatly in Teddy's otherwise empty refrigerator. Coming to a decision, Victoire began to insistently nudge Teddy in his ribs.
Teddy's hair flashed crimson in annoyance and he opened his eyes to slits. 'What?' he barked gruffly.
'I'm hungry,' Victoire told him primly.
'So go eat...' Teddy rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. His movements pulled her hair slightly.
'Ow... Geroff my hair...' she told him crossly. 'It's a little hard to get up, when you've got a person lying on your hair,' she said pointedly.
Teddy sat up slightly, releasing Victoire's hair. 'Better?'
'Much.'
Teddy flopped back into his pillow and gazed up at Victoire. 'You ought to think about cutting it,' he remarked.
'Why don't you think about staying on your side of the bed?' she retorted.
'I will when your hair stays on your side of the bed,' Teddy said smugly.
Victoire glared at him, then collapsed over his chest. 'I've got nothing,' she sighed.
Teddy threaded his hand through Victoire's hair, watching the weak light from the window spark through it. 'I remember Ginny cut hers... I was eight or so. It was before Al was born, I think. It was longer than yours, and one day...' He made scissoring motions with his fingers. 'It was gone. She'd cut it up to here.' Teddy swiped an index finger across the mid-point of his neck. 'I don't remember her letting it grow back out until Lily had started primary school.'
'I've been thinking about doing that,' Victoire admitted. 'Keeps coming undone when I'm working with patients.' She flicked a lock over her shoulder.
'Well, don't let me stop you,' quipped Teddy. He brushed Victoire's hair away from her face. 'Why haven't you ever cut it?'
'I dunno. Just never really thought about it.' Victoire lay quietly for a moment. 'I'm still hungry...'
'Guess I ought to feed you, eh? Can't have you pass out from hunger in the middle of my flat, can I?' He heaved himself out of bed, completely unconcerned about his decided lack of dress. Teddy rummaged through a small bureau and tossed a pair of boxers and an oversized t-shirt to the bed. 'Put that on...'
'I have a perfectly lovely nightie...' Victoire observed, pulling the t-shirt over her head.
Teddy grabbed a pair of boxers for himself and headed out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. 'I'm sure it's nice,' he called. 'But let's be comfortable, yeah?' Firm knocks on the front door reverberated through the small flat. 'Can you get that?'
'Sure...' Victoire slipped Teddy's boxers over her feet and pulled them up as she tripped out of the bedroom. She was sliding her hand under her hair, pulling it out of the collar of the shirt as she opened the door. She stared at the person in front of her. 'Uncle Harry...' she said weakly.
Harry's mouth dropped open, and remembering what Ginny had said to him last night, quickly snapped it shut. In the next seconds, he felt a slight smile curve his lips, replaying a scene that had occurred in this very flat, more than two decades ago. He tried to smile reassuringly at Victoire, determined not to act horribly parochial about it. 'Is Teddy here...?'
Teddy strode through the door, shirtless, dressed in only the boxers. 'What do you say we make it breakfast in...' His voice trailed off as he spied Harry standing on the landing. 'It's not what you think,' he blurted.
Harry eased through the door and closed it behind him. He glanced at Teddy, nervously shifting from foot to foot. 'Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ted, you're both of age. I'm not here to castigate you.' He eyed Teddy before adding, 'Could you at least put a shirt on, though?'
'Uh, sure...' Teddy darted into hid bedroom, leaving Victoire alone with Harry.
Harry gazed at her, then asked, 'Do your parents know you're here?'
Victoire nodded. 'Sort of,' she admitted. 'I mean, Mum knows, but I thought it would be best if Dad didn't hear it from me...'
'That's probably a wise decision,' Harry murmured.
'Dad can just be a little... unreasonable.' Victoire wound a lock of hair around her finger.
'Dads can be that way with their daughters,' Harry agreed, grateful Lily was still only eleven, and he didn't have to worry about that. Yet.
'What you want?' Teddy asked, returning to the sitting room, pulling a shirt over his head. He caught Harry's uncertain glance at Victoire. 'She knows...'
'I wanted to apologize for yesterday,' Harry began awkwardly.
'All right,' Teddy said diffidently, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the incredulous look Victoire was giving him.
'I wasn't trying to blame you for anything,' Harry continued. 'I hadn't slept, and I was upset about Kathleen. And it asking you about Joel Anderson came out the wrong way. I didn't mean it like that.'
'Fine.'
Harry heaved a sigh. This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. 'I really am sorry, Ted.'
'Yeah, I know...' Teddy looked down at the floor.
'Right, well... The, uh, funeral's tomorrow. If you want to come,' Harry said quietly. 'Ten o'clock in Wigtown.'
'All right...'
Harry nodded once. 'I'll see you, then...' He turned and walked to the door and left.
Victoire turned to Teddy. 'You're being a wanker,' she stated calmly.
'What?'
'You. You're acting like a wanker. Uncle Harry came over here to apologize to you, and you were acting like a spoiled child,' Victoire chided.
Teddy sighed and spun around, walking toward the kitchen. 'I get it, all right? I mean, I know he didn't mean it, but the fact that still let himself question me like that still bothers me, okay?' He opened the refrigerator and began to remove the cartons of leftover takeaway. 'Can we just drop it for now...? Besides, I thought you were hungry.' He opened a drawer for a couple of forks and used his wand to Banish the cartons to the table in the sitting room.
'You know what happens when an Auror is hurt?' Victoire persisted. 'At the hospital?'
'Sort of...' Teddy mumbled, pouring water into glasses for them.
'They have their own set of rooms. They set up guards at the door. Not quite as elaborate as what they did for Uncle Harry last July, but it's still constant surveillance. The other Aurors keep an unofficial vigil over them. There aren't very many of them, you see.'
'I'm aware of that,' Teddy snapped.
'And if they don't survive, which does happen from time to time, the Healers that treated the patient and the Aurors have this horrible meeting. Where they dissect what went wrong and why.' Victoire plopped on the sofa and picked up a carton, stabbing a fork into it. 'They even do it for the serious injuries, too. The ones that take longer to heal than they ought. Like Uncle Harry's.' Victoire chewed the piece of chicken savagely. 'Healers... We pretty much accept there are things we can do and things we can't do. Yes, it's horrible to lose a patient, but you can't save everyone and you live with it, as long as you're secure in the knowledge that you've done everything you could do.' She poked the fork into the carton once again. 'But Aurors... And you should know this, because you've been raised by one... Aurors constantly blame themselves. They all have this... I dunno... Thing... Where they think, "If only I had done this, then my friend would be alive today..." Aurors leave that meeting, and they're still beating themselves up.'
'Vic, enough, all right?' Teddy moodily stared into his own carton of food.
'No, Teddy, it's not enough. You've worked with Kathleen... And you're not nearly as unaffected as you seem to be. If you can stop playing the wounded party here, and for two seconds think about what this must be doing to Uncle Harry...' Teddy's jaw worked, and Victoire knew he was grinding his teeth by the way the muscles were jumping. 'If you can do that, then you can understand why he was so upset yesterday...' she finished.
Teddy toyed with his food for a moment. 'You know, he just walked in here, announced she'd died, then tore into me. He didn't even let me process it...' He glanced at Victoire. 'That's what bothers me...' He poked a piece of broccoli into his mouth. 'So, yeah... I get it. It could have just as easily been an Obliviator. And this time, it was somebody I know, who was killed by a person I work with. Someone I went to school with.' He set his carton on the table and pushed it away moodily. 'I talked to him. About you. About Harry... And he's the one responsible for all this... So, now that you know, Vic, that it's not just about the row with Harry, can you leave me be?' He pushed himself off the sofa and headed for the bedroom. 'If I don't think about the other thing... If I just let myself think about the row with Harry, then I don't feel guilty because I don't have to think that I might be responsible for...' He trailed off, his hair flaring dark blue.
Teddy's eyes closed and his face grew slightly pained, as he struggled to gain control of his emotions, and by extension, his appearance. But to his annoyance, his hair steadfastly remained the deep blue of midnight.
Neville wound through the throng of students arriving in the Great Hall for breakfast, searching for James, Al, Lily, and Scorpius. They were sitting on one end of the Gryffindor table, looking the worse for wear, with dark circles under their eyes. Lily looked especially pale, and Neville suspected she was coming down with a cold. He handed them each a slip of parchment. 'The four of you. In Greenhouse Three at seven tomorrow night.'
'But Professor,' James began. 'Al and I, we've got Quidditch practice tomorrow!'
Neville frowned slightly. 'Then I suppose you'll miss it, won't you?' His expression softened slightly. 'I know you three meant well, but you should have gotten a prefect.' He went back to the staff table and James rounded on Lily, glaring.
Lily's lower lip began to tremble and she bolted from the table and ran from the room.
Al sighed and stood up. 'Laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?' he hissed to James, grabbing Lily's schoolbag, as well as his own, and followed her from the Great Hall.
James stolidly kept shoving eggs and potatoes into his mouth, avoiding Rose's censorious stare. 'Why do you have detention?' she demanded.
'Lily was out of bounds, and we went to find her,' James replied shortly, slapping jam onto a slice of toast. 'She could have gotten into even more trouble than she is now, and she could have gotten sick or hurt,' he pointed out to Rose.
'That doesn't give you the right to treat her like she's bubble gum on your shoe,' Isabella snorted. 'Keeping your baby sister at arm's length because she's your baby sister, well, that's normal. Treating her like she's got a virulent case of dragon pox...'
Maddie leaned in a little, muttering from the corner of her mouth. 'Don't make me write to Granddad,' she warned.
James paused in mid-sip. Pumpkin juice overflowed from the corners of his mouth and splashed down the front of his jumper. Spluttering, he set the goblet down. 'You wouldn't!' he breathed.
Maddie sat back. 'I would.'
James dabbed at the sticky mess and frowned. In the days before Al had started school, Arthur had pulled him aside and in a tone that brooked no arguments, all but ordered James to watch out for his younger siblings. James thought that Arthur would have cancelled Quidditch if he could, had James disobeyed him.
Isabella drained the tea in the cup in front of her. 'Bloody... I'm going to be late for Potions...' She started to pick up her schoolbag, and sent James a scathing look worthy of her mother. 'All we've got is each other here,' she reminded him. 'Yeah, we've got friends outside of the family, but still... Stop acting like you've never done anything stupid.'
Ginny trudged up the lane through the gates of Hogwarts, reveling in the relative silence. She wondered for a moment, if she was hovering. Hadn't her mother done the same thing after her first year? Molly had kept such a close eye on Ginny that summer that Ginny felt as if she couldn't breathe without Molly counting each breath. The summer after her third year, Molly wouldn't let them out of her sight hardly long enough to use the loo in private. She didn't even allow them to sit in the miniscule back garden of number twelve Grimmauld Place after dinner. The next summer, Molly had been somewhat distracted by the news of Bill's engagement to Fleur, but she still didn't allow them any further than the edge of the paddock without an adult with them. But with Arthur dividing his time between the Order and his job, and Molly trying to keep everything determinedly normal, they weren't able to get out much. And the summer after her fifth year, in between wedding preparations, Molly hovered. Checking in on Ginny like she hadn't since Ginny was eleven. It had been the summer after the war that Molly hovered. Trying to make them eat food they hadn't wanted, pressing cardigans on them when the temperature dropped even a little. Inquiring after their sleep.
What Ginny was doing wasn't any different, she realized. The children hadn't known anyone who had died before.
She made her way around the side of the castle and headed for the greenhouses. Neville was teaching his sixth year N.E.W.T. class to cultivate Muggle herbs. A seemingly mundane subject, but in order for them to be most effective in medicinal potions, certain conditions had to occur. Some had to be harvested during the full moon. Others during a solstice. Still, others had to be planted with dragon dung fertilizer. Some of the herbs and plants had to be grown in conditions that they wouldn't normally tolerate, like extremely acidic or alkaline soils. Ginny remembered Professor Sprout had made each class grow dittany her sixth year, when it was apparent the bullying and punishments from other students were going unchecked, then pressed cuttings surreptitiously into their hands wrapped in a dirty scrap of parchment with instructions on how to extract the essence. By December, most of the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors carried a small bottle in their cloak pockets. If they were pushed into the walls or statues, a quick dab of the dittany quickly took care of the resulting cut or gash.
She slipped into Greenhouse Eight, and stood in the humid warmth, breathing in the scents of dragon dung fertilizer, potting soil, and the pungent scents of herbs, redolent in the drowsy heat of the greenhouse. Neville waved a little, then turned back to a knot of students, pruning a bed of aconite, comparing it to cuttings from a bed of aconite grown in the ordinary way. He instructed them to come back during a free period to complete their research, then dismissed them.
He approached Ginny, wiping his hands on a small rag that he tucked into a pocket of his robes. 'What can I do for you, Gin?'
'I need to see the children,' she said. 'Just mine,' Ginny added quickly, seeing Neville's brows rise in slight alarm.
'Right.' Neville retrieved a thick file and ran his finger down the list of names. 'James has Defense next, Al has History of Magic, and Lily's going to Charms.' He closed the file and put it back into the rickety desk. 'I'll go fetch them, and send them down here.'
'Thanks, Nev,' Ginny said gratefully.
Neville casually waved his wand and four chairs appeared next to the desk. 'They'll be here shortly.'
Ginny sank into a chair and waited with what was a remarkable amount of patience for her. She waited a full two minutes before she began to tap her toes against the packed earth of the greenhouse.
'Mum!' Lily flew through the door and hurtled into Ginny's arms.
Ginny glanced at the boys and her heart sank a little. They were all pale with shadows ringing their eyes. 'I take it you know...'
'Iz gets the paper,' Al said. It was all he had to say.
'How are you?' Ginny asked quietly.
'All right, I guess,' James told her with a shrug. 'Just a little... Surprising.'
'I know.' Ginny laid the back of her hand against Lily's nearly too-warm face. Lily was shivering a little, but the greenhouse was quite warm. 'Are you cold, sweetie...?' Lily nodded miserably.
James opened his mouth, cut his eyes toward Al, then snapped it shut.
Ginny drew back a little and gazed at Lily. 'I think you might be coming down with something,' she said, giving James a questioning look. He shook his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his eyes fixed on the ground. 'Come on, then. Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey. She'll give you something to fix it right up.' She urged Lily off her lap and stood up, leading Lily back into the castle.
Al adjusted his scarf and settled his schoolbag on his shoulder, glancing sharply at James.
James kicked the ground with a foot. 'Don't say a word,' he growled, and stalked out of the greenhouse.
It was a typically grey autumn day in Scotland. Harry turned the collar of his coat up against the chilly drizzle that snaked down the back of his neck. Ginny stood next to him, her hand wound through his. She could feel the slight tremors that snaked down his arm. He hated speaking in public, but Iain had owled the night before, asking Harry to please say a few words. He couldn't refuse. Teddy stood on the edge of the small gathering, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. His head jerked up when he heard the officiating wizard ask Harry to step forward and say a few words.
Harry squeezed Ginny's hand for a moment, then let go, and strode to the side of the coffin, bearing Kathleen's remains. He let one of his hands lightly brush over the top, as he cleared his throat. 'Kathleen...' he began, feeling his throat tighten around the word. He pushed a hand into his coat pocket, fingering the scrap of parchment inside, listening to the faint crackle. He'd written a formal, stilted speech before he'd gone to bed, but now, as his fingers closed around the parchment, it didn't feel right. 'The first time I met Kathleen, was when I went to Hogwarts to look over the seventh year students who were interested in becoming Aurors. In Kathleen's year, she stood out like an apple in Honeydukes': she was the only Slytherin that had ever applied to the program up to that point. We would try to simulate situations they might face, to weed out the truly serious from the merely curious.
'She utterly failed to complete the obstacle course the first try. Not many of them do, to be honest, but she was one of the first I had ever seen take it as a personal affront.' Harry heard Iain's knowing snicker on the end of a muffled sniffle and managed to catch Iain's eye. They had been in the same class together, and it was an event Iain remembered very well. 'That alone said volumes about her dedication to doing a job well.
'Kathleen wasn't the most sociable person, at first. Not that she wasn't friendly, once you got to know her, but if you could count yourself as one of her friends, it was something special.' Harry paused and met Ginny's gaze. 'I've had to bury a lot of people I've loved in my lifetime, and I've discovered the best thing to do is to remember their life. Take a moment and remember Kathleen as she lived.' He bit his lip and let his hand trail along the edge of the coffin before returning to Ginny.
Harry dropped to the sofa, loosening the tie around his neck. 'Ruddy, useless things...' he grumbled.
Teddy stood in the doorway between the kitchen and sitting room. 'Then why do you wear them?'
'Because they look nice,' Harry sighed. He looked up at Teddy, his head tilting to the side. 'Are you feeling all right?' he asked, his hand waving vaguely toward his hair.
'I'm fine,' Teddy stated.
Harry's eyes narrowed. 'How many times have you tried to change it today?'
Teddy's shoulders slumped and he rubbed his temples tiredly. 'Feels like every five minutes...' He ran his hand through the dull, dark strands and frowned. 'I can't stop thinking that I might have a hand in it...'
Harry took a deep breath. 'You didn't,' he said to Teddy. 'That kind of person is going to hurt who they want, and they don't care who else they bring down with them in the process. I didn't mean to make it out like you had anything at all to do with it...'
'Here.' Ginny levitated a large tray with tea, sandwiches, and biscuits into the sitting room.
Teddy inspected the biscuits cautiously. 'Those aren't chocolate, are they?' he asked, going slightly green around the edges.
'Of course they are,' Ginny huffed. 'Your favorite...' Teddy nudged the plate containing the biscuits a little further away from where he sat.
Light from a passing car's headlights flooded the room as it pulled to a stop in front of the house. The sound of a door slamming soon followed. 'Think someone's lost?' Harry wondered.
Someone began to pound on the door, and Ginny looked at Harry. 'Were you expecting someone?'
'No...' He warily went to the door and pulled it open.
Aaron stood on the doorstep, clutching Sarah to his chest. 'I went to pick up Sarah after work,' he stammered. 'And I couldn't go home...'
FORTY NINE -- Admissions
Neville led Scorpius, Lily, Al, and James to Greenhouse Three, and flicked his wand at the door. It swung open, creaking slightly on its rusty hinges. 'I must remember to add that to the list,' Neville murmured absently. He ushered two dejected boys, one miserable girl, and one slightly bemused boy inside. He lightly cuffed Al and James on the shoulder. 'As much practice as you lot get outside of Gryffindor's regular practice sessions playing with the rest of the family and over the summer, one missed practice isn't going to kill you.' He dropped a stack of parchment on the scarred desk in the corner. 'You're lucky it was McGonagall that caught you out of bounds and not Professor Trentham.'
'Why is that?' Scorpius asked curiously. He thought McGonagall would have been stricter than Trentham. He'd often heard stories from his mother and grandmother about how strict McGonagall could be with Gryffindor when she was still its Head.
'Trentham would have given you a week's worth of detentions, written to your parents, and taken away more than five points apiece,' Neville said dryly. 'It's what she would have done when she was still the Head.'
'Oh.' Scorpius shrugged off his cloak and laid it over a stool. 'Well, this is all right, then,' he said brightly, earning a hard elbow in the ribs from Al. 'Ooof.' He swiveled his head, rather like an offended owl and glared at Al. 'What was that for?' he demanded.
'This isn't exactly a picnic,' Al drawled.
'One night is better than a week,' Scorpius argued. 'And Professor Longbottom is right. Missing one night of practice isn't going to hurt your game. You practically sleep with your broom as it is.'
'All right, enough,' interjected Neville. 'Lily, I need you to sort through those boxes under the table. They're mostly things like pruning shears and trowels. Check over the earmuffs. And there's a collection of lost dragon hide gloves. Check them for names, so we can find out who belongs to them. Separate out the ones that need cleaning or repairs. When you're done, I'll show you how to do that.'
'You're going to let me use magic?' Lily blurted.
'Of course I am,' Neville laughed. 'Doesn't hurt to get a little extra practice in, does it?'
'But what about all those stories I've heard about having to clean trophies without magic?' James asked suspiciously.
'Oh, that was Ron our second year,' Neville said lightly. 'Poor Ron... Charm backfired on him earlier that day and he ended up burping up slugs all afternoon.'
'Ewww!' Lily's face scrunched in disgust.
'My thoughts exactly,' Neville murmured. 'Scorpius and Al, all those clay pots need cleaning as well.' He gestured to a large pile of terra cotta clay pots in the corner, caked with earth inside, and a coated with a white crust on the outside. 'Sorry, but they have to be done by hand...' Neville added sympathetically.
'But --' Al began in protest.
'It's important that the pots be properly cleaned,' Neville said, cutting off Al's objections. 'You can do it by magic, but the best way to do it is by hand. It's how we did at the St. Mungo's greenhouses,' he added.
'Fine,' Al grumbled.
'James, I need you to repot some of the herbs for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey's in need of more Pepper-Up potion.' Neville consulted a scrap of parchment. 'She needs... Ginger, garlic... marjoram,' he added, squinting at the nearly illegible squiggles that passed for Madam Pomfrey's handwriting. 'Ravensara... Thyme... Goldenseal and...' Neville brought the parchment up to his nose. 'I'm pretty sure that's elderberry,' he said, turning the scrap around for James to see. 'Clean pots are under the table in that corner,' Neville told him, gesturing over his shoulder to a darkened corner.
Sighing, the children silently got to work. Neville settled at his desk, grading the seventh year Herbology essays. James carried an armful of clay pots to the table, across from where Lily had heaved an unwieldy box containing lost and errant gloves. He lined them up on the table and glanced at Lily. 'I know you were upset the other night,' he said quietly. Lily's head moved in a slight nod. 'But you can't run off like that. Mum and Dad would never forgive me if something happened to you.'
'I thought you were going to fink me out to Mum,' Lily muttered, turning a glove inside out, searching for a nametag.
'I was,' James admitted. 'But...' He trailed off and shrugged, gently tugging a clump of goldenseal from its pot. 'Anything Mum could have done at that point would have been adding coals to Newcastle,' he snorted. 'And you were already ill and had a detention.' He settled the herbs in their new pot and placed more potting soil around them. 'I didn't mean to shout at you,' he said grudgingly. 'I was scared and worried.'
'I didn't mean to stay out there that long,' Lily mumbled, pawing through the box, searching for the mate to the glove. Unable to find it, she flung it into another box. 'I guess Archie Hatcher will have to just buy another pair...' She pulled another glove from the first box, and turned the cuff back, keeping her eyes on the glove. 'I kept thinking... About Dad...'
'Yeah, me, too,' James muttered. Neither of them had to say the glaringly obvious statement that hung between them: it could have just as easily been Harry instead of Kathleen.
Al pushed his sleeves back and picked up a stiff brush, and began to work it around the inside of a pot. Fine crumbs of dirt showered over the table and flew into his face. 'Urk. I'm going to have to use this on me later if it's going to be like this all night,' he grumbled, brandishing the brush, swiping a sleeve over his face. 'Heard from your mum lately?'
Scorpius sighed and poked his own brush into a pot. 'Yeah.' He flinched a little as a large insect scuttled out of the pot and darted for the shadows. 'She's thinking about leaving my father,' he confessed, so softly, Al wasn't quite certain he'd heard him.
'What?' Al leaned a little closer.
Scorpius savagely scrubbed the dirt out of the pot. 'Father offered Mother a divorce,' he ground from between clenched teeth. 'She's thinking about accepting his offer.'
'W-w-why?' Al blurted, then flushed. He'd heard Scorpius talk about his parents often enough to know they were nothing like his parents.
Scorpius gave Al a look and slid the pot aside. He continued as if Al hadn't spoken. 'She says I shouldn't worry,' he snorted. 'If she does decide to leave, it would take years to wind its way through the system. 'That might be true, but everyone would know,' he added. 'It would be worse than it already is.' Scorpius gestured toward the dark hulking shadow of the school with his brush.
'Do you want them to stay together?' Al asked.
'I dunno,' Scorpius sighed. 'On the one hand, it would be nice to not have to live with him and know I just manage to disappoint him all the time. And Mother wouldn't have to live with him, either. Maybe she'd be happier without him.' He pulled another pot toward him. 'On the other...' Scorpius laughed bitterly. 'Isn't that pathetic? I can't even find anything bad about it, other than having to listen to Geoffrey and his lot taunt me even more. And that's just an annoyance.' He shook himself slightly. 'Now he's disappearing, dressed in Muggle clothing, for hours at a time. Won't even tell Mother where he's going.'
Al's face scrunched in distaste. 'You don't think he's...? You know...?'
'Got a bit of stuff stashed somewhere? I don't think so, but I can't be sure.' Scorpius rubbed his hand under his nose, stifling a sneeze, leaving a streak of dirt across his upper lip. 'Wouldn't put it past him,' he said darkly.
'Who would you live with? If they do split up?'
'Mother,' Scorpius said quickly. 'She said she didn't even have to ask, he just offered to let her take custody of me.' He glanced at Al. 'So how's your dad doing?' he asked, in an effort to change the subject.
Al shrugged. 'Mum says he's okay. Says the shoulder's healed nicely.'
'Are you scared that next time...?' Scorpius toyed with a loose thread. It didn't matter what next time -- next attack, next death.
Al nodded silently. 'I'd be stupid not to be,' he admitted. That was something new for Al. He had never given his father's job much thought before. It was merely something Harry did during the day, and occasionally at night. He'd never known the clenching fear that now occasionally gripped him at odd moments, when he happened to glance at the headlines of the Daily Prophet Isabella had delivered every morning.
Death may have been something Albus Potter didn't mind as a rule. But only when it was an abstract concept.
xxxxxx
Harry stared at Aaron, open-mouthed. He quickly stood aside, and pulled Aaron into the house. 'Start over,' he ordered, prying Sarah, who was beginning to whimper softly, from Aaron's arms.
Aaron blindly walked into the sitting room and fell into a chair. 'I don't quite know,' he began. 'I went to pick up Sarah at the childcare center after work today, because Dudley has tutoring after school. And I just couldn't go home.'
Harry glanced at Ginny's watch. It was after eight. 'So you drove all the way out here?'
'I didn't know where else to go.' Aaron's dark hair fell into his face. 'I can't sleep, because I keep seeing that woman die... I'm terrified to go home...'
'Dudley doesn't know you're here?' Ginny asked, flicking her wand toward the kitchen, Summoning an extra cup. She poured tea into it and pressed it into Aaron's unresisting hand.
'No...'
She exchanged a glance with Harry and he shifted Sarah expertly to one hip and slipped into the office. He opened the top drawer of his desk, and picked up the mobile. It was vibrating frantically. There were twenty missed calls and all of them were from Dudley. Harry dialed Dudley's number, and took a deep breath, waiting for Dudley to pick up on his end. 'Oh, God, Harry... Aaron and Sarah are missing,' Dudley nearly shouted, without greeting.
'They're here,' Harry said. He waited for a reply, but there was silence on the other. He looked down at the mobile, to check that the call hadn't been disconnected. 'Erm... Dudley...?' He received a muffled snuffle in return. 'Right. Don't go anywhere, don't do anything. I'll be there in a minute. All right? Dudley? Do something to let me know you heard me...'
'All right...' Dudley said in a voice that made it obvious he'd started crying.
Harry set the mobile on the desk and looked at Sarah, drowsing on his shoulder. 'Think you can handle letting Auntie Ginny spoil you for a bit while I go talk to your dad?' Her face twisted and she began to wail. 'I'll bet you're hungry, too.' He went back into the sitting room, motioning to Teddy. 'Go out to Aaron's car, yeah? Check in the back for a changing bag. And if you don't mind, Lily's old travel cot is still in the attic. Can you bring it down and put it in James' room?'
'They staying the night?' Teddy asked.
'Might as well.' Harry handed Sarah to Ginny. 'Teddy's going to bring her bag in and fetch the travel cot down...'
'What happens?' Aaron asked abruptly. 'If I want you to do that thing to my memory?'
Harry paused in mid-step, about to explain, but Teddy answered before he could. 'Anything you want. I can make you forget everything or I can make you just forget Kathleen's death. If I do the former, you won't remember a thing, but you also won't be as vigilant if you had remembered anything. If I just make you forget about Kathleen, you'll have this vague uneasy feeling that something's not right. You'll still be worried, but you'll chalk it up to something you've read or heard from somewhere else. I can also do anything else in between those two extremes,' Teddy added.
'You can do all that?' Harry asked.
'It's why I'm an Obliviator and you're not,' Teddy retorted, with a hint of his teenage belligerence. He directed his attention to Aaron. 'Your car open? I'll bring Sarah's things in for you.'
'Yeah...' Aaron appeared dazed by the barrage of information Teddy had thrown at him.
Teddy began to walk toward the door. 'Just think about it,' he advised. 'We don't have to do anything right now...' His hand landed on the doorknob, and it opened under it, seemingly of its own accord.
'Harry, I've got great news!' Hermione said breathlessly.
'Can't it wait?' Harry asked irritably.
'No, it can't,' she said loftily. 'It's about Neville and Hannah.'
Harry glanced at his watch. 'You've got five minutes,' he growled.
'Fine.' Hermione sidled in past Teddy. 'So... There are five people in MLE whose job is to watch over children down for Hogwarts in Social Services, whether they're in foster care or in the process of adoption... Just to make sure they're not mistreated in any way...' Harry's eyebrow rose slowly. 'That wasn't why, but it did make much more sense to keep an eye out for them, and try to place them with a magical family, if they were going to be adopted. At any rate,' she continued, 'there's a baby available for adoption. And I can make sure Hannah and Neville are on the top of the list, if they want him.
'He's about a year old and his parents were killed in a car accident last week. They've done some checking, and they don't have any other family that we know of or can find.'
'That's rather convenient,' Harry sighed.
'Well, it does help,' Hermione muttered. 'However, he's theirs, if Neville and Hannah want him...'
'How is that going to work?' Harry moved aside to allow Teddy back inside the house with Sarah's changing bag.
'One of those five people I told you about works in Social Services. Sort of undercover. She'll arrange everything. She's been working overtime, trying to make sure he's eligible for adoption. She can handle everything for Hannah and Neville. She can even use the paperwork Neville and Hannah filed with MLE ten years ago. All we have to do is update it. But I need a definitive answer by Monday morning.'
Harry slowly exhaled. 'Okay... One thing at a time...' He ran his hands through his hair. 'First Dudley, then Neville and Hannah...'
'When?' Hermione demanded.
'I'll try to get up to Hogwarts by Sunday, but I can't promise anything.' Harry suddenly rounded on Hermione. 'Why in the hell won't you go?'
Hermione gaped at Harry. 'Oh... Right... I suppose I could go... I just thought since you brought it up, that you might want to be the one to talk to Neville...'
'Hermione, under normal circumstances, I would be very happy to go broach the subject with Neville, but I've got a rather lot on my plate just now.' Harry sighed and glanced into the sitting room, where Aaron slumped listlessly in the armchair. 'Thank you. For doing all of this for Nev... Now, I need to go.' Harry leaned down and brushed a light kiss over Hermione's cheek. He quickly walked toward the kitchen and picked up his coat from its hook by the door. Ginny was in the kitchen, rooting for a tea towel, Sarah balanced on one hip. 'You're all right with the two of them staying?' he asked her.
'Of course I am,' Ginny said, her voice soothing, as she helped Sarah take a bottle. 'No sense in sending them home at this hour of night.' She noticed the coat dangling from Harry's fingers. 'Where are you going?'
'Dudley. He's somewhat upset,' Harry said lamely.
'Obviously,' Ginny replied dryly.
'I'll be home in a few hours. I'll get you a message if I'm going to be later.' He kissed Ginny lingeringly and slipped into the back garden, cold, drizzly rain soon filling in the space where he was.
Ginny watched him Disapparate, nuzzling the silky curls adorning Sarah's head and met her dark grey eyes. 'How do you feel about a bath and bed, eh?' Sarah just gave her a snuffling exhalation and burrowed into Ginny's neck in reply. 'That's what I thought,' Ginny told her. She retraced her steps into the sitting room and settled on the sofa. 'Harry's gone to talk to Dudley,' she murmured to Aaron.
Aaron glanced up from his intense perusal of the surface of his tea. 'Oh.'
Ginny hesitated, then plunged ahead. 'Have you talked about any of this with him?'
Aaron shook his head. 'No.' He set the cup down and rested his elbows on his knees. 'It's not that I don't want to, but I can't...'
'Because why would you want to throw a spanner in the works, hmm?' Ginny snorted. 'Totally brilliant plan, Aaron. Seems to be working quite well.'
'And how would you know?' Aaron snarled softly.
'Quite a bit, actually,' Ginny said, unperturbed. 'I've lived this --' She gestured widely encompassing the room. 'For more than twenty years. The worry and I are quite old friends. And if I can be a bit pushy for a moment...' She paused delicately. 'You can't not talk about it,' Ginny said bluntly. 'You'll run mad if you don't talk about it.'
'What if it's one of us next...?' Aaron asked shakily.
'What if Dudley gets hit by a bus crossing the street?' Ginny countered. 'Or some nutter takes exception to your relationship and stabs you with a kitchen knife in an alley?' She pried the empty bottle from Sarah's pudgy hands, leaning forward to set it on the table. 'In the end, it's still the same result.'
xxxxx
Harry walked swiftly down the street toward Dudley's flat. He glanced in the shadows on the other side of the street and nodded at the disguised Auror leaning against the light post. He climbed the stairs to the front door and knocked softly. Dudley yanked open the door, pale and trembling, his dark blonde hair sticking up in wild abandon. 'Are they...?'
'They're fine,' Harry assured Dudley. 'Tired, but fine...' He nearly fell over when Dudley threw his arms around him. Staggering, Harry managed to keep his feet. He patted Dudley weakly on his back, while he maneuvered the both of them into the entryway of the flat. 'Come on; let's go sit down, then, eh?' He steered Dudley into the sitting room and deposited the taller man into a chair.
Dudley seemed to collapse into himself. 'They're my life,' he said hoarsely, gazing down at his hands, nervously twisting the engraved gold band around his ring finger.
'I know,' Harry murmured.
'Do you think he's left me?'
Harry straightened, startled. 'Why do you ask?'
'If you came home from work one day, expecting to see your spouse and child, and they weren't here, and didn't show up after a normal amount of time, and none of your friends have seen them, what would you think?' Dudley snapped.
'Stop being a tosser for a minute and think, would you?' Harry retorted. 'How did you feel the first time you saw magic like that?'
'You mean when that big bloke tried to turn me into a pig?' Dudley said sardonically. 'Bloody scared me.'
'You haven't had very good experiences with magic,' Harry sighed, flicking his wand toward the table. A plate of sandwiches appeared, making Dudley blink. Another flick brought a gently steaming pot of tea. He glanced at his cousin, staring at him, slightly open-mouthed. 'It's not always a bad thing,' Harry huffed, nodding toward his wand. 'You've just had the misfortune to always see it being used that way.'
'I suppose.'
'Aaron's just met me and my family. Knowing about magic and actually having to deal with it are two entirely different things.'
'I'm well aware of that,' Dudley grumbled.
'He's scared,' Harry said candidly. 'He's terrified that next time they won't miss.' He poured a cup of tea and handed it to Dudley. 'Drink that. My motherin-law is keen on making people tea when they've been upset.' Harry poured one for himself and fixed Dudley with a considering look. 'You know... When Albus was born, I was working on something rather sensitive, and made the colossal mistake to decide not to talk about it with Ginny. In hindsight, it was a rather stupid thing to do. Made everything so much worse. In the end, I had to meet her in the middle. Tell her just enough so she wasn't in the dark, but keep enough of it to myself so she didn't have another worry.'
'So what are you saying?'
'I'm saying you need to sit down with Aaron and talk about your options. Keeping Ginny completely uninformed backfired, but if I'd told her everything she would have been needlessly worried. Maybe he could go somewhere between that. If he has it all wiped out, he might get complacent. If he doesn't get quite enough, he'd still be in a state over it.' Harry took a sip of tea. 'How would you feel if he had his memory modified?'
'That's his decision, and if it helps Aaron sleep at night, then it's fine. Why?'
'Just checking... I think he's leaning in that direction.' Harry picked up a sandwich, suddenly hungry. 'However, I think the two of you need to talk before he does it.' He bit ravenously into the sandwich. 'Otherwise, he might not understand what you're talking about...'
xxxxxx
Hermione smiled brightly at her mother, her cheeks aching with the effort of trying to stay positive. Jane nattered on about a patient that Hermione was certain now had children of her own. Every week, she noticed Jane slipping away bit by bit, struggling to remember even Hermione's name. Rose and Hugo had already faded somewhat. Jane would look at their photographs on the bureau, and Hermione could see the fog settle over her eyes, as she stared at them intently, searching for their names, and why those photographs were sitting on her bureau. For some reason, Jane remembered Ron with a clarity she didn't remember anyone else. When he came with her to visit, Hermione tried to keep the hurt from her face and voice. Things where Jane were concerned were difficult enough as it was. But Ron saw through the forced cheeriness. He chose wisely, in Hermione's opinion, to not comment about it. Instead, he made pumpkin pasties for her, and talked about how well Jane was looking. It was true. The people who worked at the home took very good care of Jane, making sure her hair was brushed neatly, and helped her apply lipstick so it didn't smear over her teeth, and ensuring Jane was dressed in clean clothing every day. Sometimes, it seemed as if Jane liked them more than she liked her own daughter.
Hermione nodded and murmured appropriate comments when necessary. She almost felt relieved when a nurse came to fetch Jane for tea. She walked down the corridor with them, making idle conversation about the tantalizing aromas coming from the dining room. 'Bye, Mum,' Hermione said gaily, when Jane was seated. 'I'll see you next week.'
'Yes, of course...' Jane replied vaguely, her sparse white brows drawing together in a frown. Mercifully, she didn't flinch when Hermione bent to kiss her cheek.
Hermione burst out of the front door with a sigh, rotating her shoulders, in an attempt to work the strain from them. She glanced around furtively, then ducked around the corner of the building, Disapparating mid-step. Inside the building, an elderly man gasped. 'But she was just right there!' he exclaimed.
A nurse shook her head. 'No, Mr. Stevens, nobody was there...'
'But she was,' he insisted, pointing toward the window. The man continued to peer through the window, expecting to see Hermione appear as suddenly as she'd disappeared.
xxxxxx
Neville perched on a tall stool at one end of the counter, grading the seemingly endless stack of parchment in front of him. He winced as a particularly thick first year mislabeled aconite as asphodel. He was waiting for Hannah to finish organizing next week's schedule. Hermione slid onto the stool next to him. 'I have to ask you something,' she said without preamble, unable to handle the niceties of polite conversation just now.
'Rose is doing well, and Hugo's adjusting just fine. He's every bit as smart as Rose, just lax about his homework,' Neville said.
'It's not about my children, but I appreciate the update,' Hermione replied with a slight smile. 'It's about yours.'
'But I don't...' Neville trailed off. He slowly set his quill down on the diagram of Devil's Snare. 'What do you mean?' he asked tightly, staring at the graceful outline of a leaf.
Hermione inhaled slowly. 'Do you and Hannah still want to adopt a child?'
Neville's mouth worked soundlessly, before he choked, 'Yes... But... I...' He turned his wide hazel eyes to Hermione. 'How...?'
'He's a year old and his parents were killed in a car accident. They were Muggles, but he's down for Hogwarts. I sort of have someone on the inside at Social Services for things like this.'
Neville's face paled and slowly flushed painfully red. 'We haven't tried in ages,' he murmured. 'We weren't considered good candidates before. The paperwork the Ministry has for us must be hopelessly outdated...'
'Don't worry about it,' Hermione said airily. 'We'll take care of it. I just need you and Hannah to give me an answer...'
'Yes,' Neville blurted. 'Yes.'
xxxxxx
Teddy lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling. He'd crawled into his bed last night, closed his eyes, and... Nothing. He spent the night lying in a heap in the middle of the bed, watching the shadows dance mockingly across the ceiling as the hours ticked and flowed from night to the grey, watery light of dawn. Teddy seemed to be bound to bed, and his feeble attempts to get out of it were nearly pointless in their futility. He stayed in the bed as the light grew stronger and traveled across the floor, slowly dimming, marking the passage of the day. He stared at the pattern of the pillowcase under his cheek. Even if Harry hadn't indirectly voiced an accusation against him, Teddy realized he would have felt like he was responsible in some way for Kathleen. It sounded absolutely insane. But in spite of his protestations to the contrary, Teddy kept wondering. What if...?
Most of the time, Teddy didn't miss having parents. He had Harry and Ginny. And his grandmother. But every now and then, Teddy wished heartily Remus was still alive. His head listlessly turned on the pillow and his gaze fell on the line of journals that were lined up neatly on his bureau. He only had the series that encompassed the last few years of his father's life. The others were stored at Andromeda's house. He shoved the quilt aside and slid out of the bed, picking up a jumper that lay bundled on the floor next to the bed and jerked it over his head. He grabbed his trainers, sitting forlornly next to the bathroom door, and shoved his feet into them, not bothering to tie the laces. Before he could bother to question himself about it, Teddy darted out of the flat and Disapparated.
He stood outside his grandmother's house, dark and still in the crisp night. He slipped through the back door, with a grace he knew his mother might have envied, and toed off the trainers and padded up the stairs to the attic. Teddy headed straight for the box containing the rest of Remus' journals and pried off the lid. He thumbed through the earliest diary, not really reading, just skimming. He wasn't searching for anything in particular, just needed to feel the presence of his father in the only way he knew. As he finished a journal, he dug the next one from the box, wending his way through Remus' late adolescence and early adulthood.
Teddy came to a succession of passages that made him sit up slowly. They were written in the aftermath of Harry's parents' murders and Remus was painfully alone. He filled page after page of self-accusations and recriminations. He blamed himself for the Potters' deaths. Blamed himself for not being their Secret-Keeper. Cursed his lycanthropy for making him unfit to raise Harry. Teddy knew the circumstances that surrounded that event and knew his father was grasping at straws, looking for something and someone to blame and eventually turned on himself, even though there seemed to be nothing Remus could have done. Teddy also knew from later journals, there really hadn't been anything Remus could have done differently at the time. But years later, Remus would spend several more pages in harsh self-censure, upon finding out the horrible mistakes he had made when Harry was a baby, and twelve years later.
He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, wrapping his arms around his bent legs. Hindsight was a cruel friend. Sitting in the cold, damp attic, Teddy realized there wasn't anything he could have done differently. But the fact he'd been friends with Joel made him feel filthy, like he could be condemned by the mere fact of it. He rubbed his face mechanically against the soft flannel of his pajama bottoms, wishing he could feel that brief, fleeting touch against the back of his head, like he had when he was at school, missing his parents and needing them terribly.
FIFTY -- Beginnings
Andromeda sat up and groped for her dressing gown at the foot of her bed. It was still dark, but she rose early out of long habit. In truth, she could have gone downstairs, fetched the Sunday Prophet from the owl that was sure to be standing on the windowsill, fixed a pot of tea, and brought it all back upstairs to bed. But some vestige of her strict upbringing still remained, even now, and she pulled the soft, worn garment over her arms, and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. She padded downstairs and automatically flicked her wand at the teapot on the counter. Fragrant steam rose from the spout, while a cup and saucer floated from the cupboard above. As she opened the window to retrieve the paper from the owl, Andromeda noticed the pair of trainers by the door. She glanced thoughtfully at the ceiling and after she paid the owl, Andromeda set the paper down on the kitchen table and slowly walked back upstairs.
She pushed open the door to Teddy's old bedroom, but he wasn't there. A soft creaking sound pulled her attention back into the corridor and door that led to the attic. She pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and lit it, then gingerly made her way up the narrow, slightly uneven stairs.
Dim, bluish light spilled across the floor from Teddy's wand, held loosely in one hand. Andromeda picked her way across the floor and conjured a chair next to Teddy. She lowered herself into the chair and began to gently stroke Teddy's hair, like she had when he was small. She looked at all the journals strewn about the dusty floor. 'I thought you'd read all of them years ago...' Teddy merely shrugged, keeping his face turned away. 'Would you like to tell me what brought you to the attic in the middle of the night?'
'You know all those Muggle-baitings?' Teddy said in a raspy voice.
'Yes...'
'Remember my mate from school, Joel?'
Andromeda searched her memory until she came upon a vague picture of a thin, weedy sort of boy. 'Somewhat. Didn't he go into the Obliviators with you?'
'Uh-huh.' Teddy exhaled a deep, shuddering sigh. 'He was part of it...' He lifted a tearstained face from his knees. 'Gran... People... They're going to think I had something to do with it, because we were friends...' Fresh tears welled up and spilled down the planes of Teddy's face.
Andromeda urged him closer and he leaned against her knees. 'Not if they really know you.' She brushed Teddy's hair away from his face and behind his ears. 'And everybody else, well...' She sat back in the chair, the thumb of her left hand rubbing the slender gold band she still wore on her fourth finger. 'When I was in school, almost everyone not in Slytherin avoided me, because, well, I was in Slytherin... And even in my house, people avoided me because I was a Black. Not that I had ever done anything to earn such a fearsome reputation,' Andromeda chuckled softly. 'Guilt by association, you see. To be honest, it wasn't too far gone of a conclusion, given how my older sister behaved. But... There were people who were willing to look past something like a name. And there will be people who will look at you suspiciously because of your friendship with Joel. But after a while, they'll realize you had nothing to do with it.'
'Dad said...' Teddy rubbed his jumper sleeve over his face. 'Dad said people didn't let him forget he was friends with Sirius... That he lost a lot of tutoring jobs because of it. They could almost handle him being a werewolf, but best friends with a convicted murderer? Oh, no...' he muttered irritably. 'Even though he didn't do anything...' He yawned widely, making a belated attempt to cover his mouth.
'Don't you have to work today?' Andromeda asked.
'No. I sent in a message that I wasn't feeling well earlier.' Andromeda's hand stilled in his hair. Teddy hardly ever took a day off for anything. He looked up at his grandmother with a crooked grin. 'I haven't been sleeping much the past few days.'
Andromeda stood up and tugged at Teddy's hands. 'Come downstairs, and I'll make you some breakfast.'
Teddy slowly pushed himself to his feet. 'Okay.'
'How's Victoire these days?' Andromeda asked, deliberately changing the subject.
'Busy,' Teddy huffed ruefully. 'If she's not in classes, she's assigned to a couple of different Healers in the rest of her nearly nonexistent free time. And sadly, the way it's worked out, the days she's not in class, I'm usually working a day shift, or I have the overnight shift, and I'm sleeping.' He blew out an exasperated breath. 'And she's usually studying anyway.'
'Sounds like a bit of a problem,' agreed Andromeda.
'I was thinking about asking her to move in with me...'
Andromeda's brows shot up. She poured Teddy a cup of tea to cover her surprise. 'And have you thought about what Bill and Fleur might have to say about that?'
Teddy folded his arms on the table and pillowed his head on them. 'Vic's of age, Gran,' Teddy pointed out. 'And seriously... How many of them lived with their respective spouses before they were married?'
'That's beside the point, Teddy,' Andromeda said dryly.
'That is the point, Gran,' Teddy said mulishly. 'All of them lived with the person they married, sometimes for years before they got married. Why should it be different for Vic and me?'
Andromeda sighed. 'All right...' She flicked her wand at the stove and a frying pan flew to it, and a package of sausages emptied themselves into it. Sizzling sounds filled the air, and Andromeda sipped her tea, studying Teddy. 'Did you ever think that perhaps Bill is somewhat strict with Victoire, Madeline, Nicholas, and Alexander because of that?' Teddy goggled at Andromeda. 'Close your mouth, dear, before you swallow an insect,' suggested Andromeda. She patted Teddy lightly on the head, before flicking her wand at the stove once more. Another frying pan joined the first. Eggs cracked in mid-air over the pan. 'I know it's a bit ironic that someone who had a somewhat liberal relationship before he was married could be vehemently against one for their child, but...' She shrugged expansively. 'Parents tend to be overprotective of their children.'
'That's not overprotective,' Teddy argued. 'That's... I dunno... Still treating her like she's fifteen.'
'You've only been engaged since, when? June?'
'Yeah...'
'And you're not getting married for another three-and-a-half years?'
'Something like that...'
'You're both young and you've got lots of time.'
Teddy let his head fall to the table with a bang. 'Why do people keep telling me this?' he moaned.
'Because, dear, you're only twenty-one and Vic's only nineteen. You are young.'
'You're not helping, Gran,' Teddy muttered.
'I know. I'm asking you all the tough questions. It's my job,' Andromeda told him lightly, jabbing her wand at the cupboard. Two plates hovered over the stove, and the pans tipped eggs and sausages into them, then the plates flew to the table landing with soft thumps in front of Andromeda and Teddy. 'Eat your breakfast.'
xxxxxx
Teddy trudged up the stairs to his flat, feeling groggy after the nap Andromeda had insisted he take when they'd finished breakfast. He might be able to sleep until noon, but midday naps tended to make him feel like he had spent the night on a pub crawl. Not really caring about who could see, Teddy jabbed his wand at the door to the flat when he arrived at the landing to the fifth floor, wanting to collapse into bed as soon as he walked in the door.
He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he managed to get inside the flat.
Victoire sat huddled on the sofa, tearstains streaking over her cheeks, her face set into angry lines. Two bags sat at her feet -- her schoolbag, filled with her books for her classes; and a large knapsack that Teddy suspected held clothes.
'Vic...'
Victoire sniffed and rubbed the sleeve of her nubby jumper under her nose. 'I had an awful row with Dad,' she admitted.
Teddy dropped to the sofa next to Victoire. 'What happened?'
'He was horribly upset that I had, erm, stayed the night...' She flopped back against the cushions. 'I don't know what I was supposed to do... Get up at two in the morning and go home?'
'I don't know...'
'So he starts in on me about being out all night, without so much as a by-your-leave. Shouted a lot of rubbish about how I still live with them, so I have to follow their rules, regardless if I'm of age or not. Then after that... Nothing. Hasn't said a word to me since.'
'So you came here,' Teddy sighed.
'So I came here.'
Teddy's eyes closed and he took a deep breath. 'You can't stay,' he said nearly inaudibly.
Victoire's eyes widened. 'What?'
Teddy picked up Victoire's clenched fist and gently kissed the back of her hand. 'Vic, there is nothing more I'd like than for you to stay...'
Victoire yanked her hand from Teddy's grasp. 'And yet, you're still telling me to go home.'
'Victoire...' Teddy began to massage the bridge of his nose. 'It's not that I want you to go home, I don't. But if you're going to come live here, I want you to do it because you really want to live here. Not because you ran away from home.'
'What makes you think I don't want to live here?' challenged Victoire.
Teddy closed his eyes and refrained from grinding his teeth. 'Victoire,' he began patiently, 'do you want to come live here, with me, at this moment?' He cracked his eyelids open and glanced at her. 'Be honest.'
Victoire chewed her lip and twisted her ring around her finger. 'Right now?' she asked hesitatingly.
'Yeah, right now.'
Victoire's face fell and the corners of her mouth turned down. 'Not really...' she admitted, sniffing a little. 'No offense, but Mum is a much better cook than either of us, and time isn't exactly something I've got a great deal of just now to deal with all of this...' She waved a hand around the cluttered sitting room.
Teddy's mouth quirked in a smile. 'I can't say I blame you...' He hated any type of cleaning, and his lack of cooking skills were already legendary. Teddy heaved himself to his feet. 'Come on. I'll take you home.' He silently counted to himself. 'It ought to be all right. Full moon was last week, yeah?'
Victoire rubbed the sleeve of her jumper carelessly over her cheeks. 'I don't think that'll matter,' she snorted.
'Somehow, I don't either...' Teddy stooped to pick up Victoire's bags. He slung them over his shoulder. He pulled a face. 'And as much as I hate to say Gran's right... We're young and we have lots of time, don't we?'
xxxxxx
Teddy stood just outside the entrance to the Obliviators' offices, eyeing it with a measure of trepidation he hadn't felt since he first started. He took a deep breath and started walking toward the large doorway. They know you... They know you... he chanted silently to himself. The last time he'd felt like everyone watched his every move was his first night at Hogwarts and scattered soft sardonic howls greeted him as he walked to the tall stool and the Sorting Hat. Salutations for the werewolf's son. He peered around the edge of the doorway, jumping when someone jostled him. He looked down, startled. 'Teddy!' Siobhan squealed in delight. 'At last! Someone who doesn't seem t'think dirty socks are funny.'
'I've only been gone a couple of days, Siobhan,' Teddy reminded her.
Siobhan grinned. 'True,' she admitted. 'But out o' th' eejits in there, ye're th' only one that doesn' act like ye're still in school. It's like workin' in a common room after a Quidditch match.'
'Oh, huzzah,' Teddy muttered. 'I'm a marvel of maturity.'
'Oh, good, you're here.' Carolina's head emerged from her office. 'There's an incident at a primary school in Plymouth. Kid blew out every window of his classroom. You'll need to do the other students and the teacher. Take Siobhan. Coordinates are on the map.' She turned back into her office. 'Oh, and Potter asked to see you sometime today. Said you had to go with him Barkingside before you went home after your shift.'
Teddy merely nodded. 'All right,' he said evenly.
'At least he finally saw sense and asked a pro to modify someone's memory, instead of trying to do it himself,' Carolina grumbled as she retreated into her office.
Siobhan glanced at the map. 'Oh, I think I've taken care o' this one before,' she murmured. 'If I'm rememberin' correctly, he's got a wee bit o' a temper on him. Wonder what set him off this time, then?'
Teddy began to walk to an Apparition point. 'What do you mean by "wee bit of a temper"?'
Siobhan shook her head. 'He's no' violent, if that's what ye're askin'. Tends to hold it all in until he gets pushed one too many times.'
'Muggle-born, confused, and gets picked on at school?' Teddy guessed.
'Yeah.' Siobhan's face clouded. 'I'm really wantin' to tell him what's goin' on, but...' She shrugged. 'He's only nine, and legally the only person who can tell him is a Hogwarts teacher, and no' until he's eleven.' They reached the small alcove at the end of the corridor. 'I'll see ye there.'
Teddy slouched into Harry's office. 'So?' he asked gruffly.
'Aaron wants it all gone,' Harry said quietly.
'I disagree,' Teddy said bluntly. 'Professionally, I disagree.'
'It's not your decision, Teddy.'
Teddy dropped into a chair across from Harry's desk. 'If you had to pick one memory to completely remove, what would it be?'
Harry's mouth opened, and he inhaled, ready to speak. Then... Nothing. What would I have erased? he wondered. As he replayed the events of his life, he slowly realized that every bad memory led to something else he wouldn't -- couldn't -- eliminate from his memory. They had all knit together to form the personality that now occupied his brain. Even the worst memories of his life had inevitably led to something worthwhile. The question was -- if he took away one awful memory, would the wonderful ones still mean the same thing? 'Good point,' he muttered. 'But it's still Aaron's choice.' He pushed his chair back and stood. 'Let's go.'
Teddy slowly followed Harry into the corridor and Disapparated, his eyes closed. When he opened them, after the familiar, suffocating sensation of Apparition, he was standing in an alley close to Dudley and Aaron's flat.
Aaron sat on the narrow steps leading up to the door of his flat, swathed in a coat and scarf. Harry disappeared into the door, but Teddy joined Aaron on the cold step. 'It's normal to lose bits and pieces of your memory. Happens all the time. But before I do this, I need to ask you something.'
Aaron's dark eyes narrowed. 'Go ahead.'
'Will you still be you if I...?' Teddy made a sweeping motion with his hand.
Aaron chewed his lip. 'Don't you do this all the time? Remove everything?'
'Not like you want it,' Teddy shot back. 'We only remove what we have to. Never all of it.'
'Then why did you suggest it?' Aaron huffed.
'Because it's an option,' Teddy demurred. 'An option of last resort.'
'I hate this... I hate not being in control of my own bloody life,' Aaron growled.
'You are in control of your life,' Teddy asserted. 'I'm just trying to get you to really think about this. Because there's no going back.'
Aaron stood up and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. 'Let's just get this done...' He stalked into the flat and led Teddy into a small room lined with books and strewn with paper. 'Sorry about the mess,' Aaron apologized. 'Dudley's something of a neat freak, surprisingly, and my filing system involves the, "I know the article I'm looking for is in the stack on my left..." Highly inefficient, but it works for me.' He moved a pile of papers from the seat of a chair and gestured for Teddy to sit. 'The deal is, I keep my mess confined to this room, and Dudley doesn't try to tidy it,' he added nervously. He dropped into the worn leather chair behind the desk and gazed at Teddy. 'What did you mean by would I still be myself?'
Teddy loosened his scarf and pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his coat. He idly twirled it between his fingers before he replied. 'Your memories are like a quilt,' he began slowly. 'If you remove a few threads, it's still usable as a quilt. But what if you remove entire pieces of it? Suddenly, there's giant holes in it and what makes you who you are now is gone...'
'Does everybody get a choice?'
'No. We usually just remove enough so they don't remember the exploding teapot. When we leave, they see the shattered teapot and think it's been dropped.' Teddy stopped twirling the wand and leaned forward a bit. 'It does depend on the event, though.' A small grin tipped up the corner of his mouth. 'Like Harry's aunt. That's one's legendary. When they had finished with her, Marge just thought she'd had too much to drink and passed out. When we remove or modify a memory, the loose threads on either end sort of connect to create a new one in its place. The larger the gap, the more tenuous the creation.
'Plus, couples share memories. Dudley's not having his memory modified, so if I take everything away from you that takes something away from the two of you. And I would like to try to avoid that...'
Aaron sighed and picked up a pen. He began to sketch absentmindedly in the margins of piece of paper. 'Did you come over with the intent to actively persuade me to change my mind?'
'Not really. Just want to make sure you know what will happen.'
'How old are you?'
'Twenty-one.'
'You don't act like it...'
Teddy shrugged. 'I've got my working face on.' He sat back in the chair and waited.
After several long moments, Aaron laid the pen down and glanced at Teddy. 'Never let it be said I don't listen to experts... Do what you would normally do...' His eyes flicked to the wand held loosely in Teddy's fingers. 'What do I need to do...?'
Teddy smiled. 'Just relax...' He lifted his wand and pointed it at Aaron's head. 'Obliviate.'
xxxxxx
Neville walked into the quarters he shared with Hannah at Hogwarts. He'd received an owl from Hermione earlier that day. It had carried a small photograph and a short note describing the boy. He pulled the photograph from his shirt pocket and looked down at it, the tiny image cradled in his palm. He felt something well up inside and quickly replaced the photograph before he did begin to cry in earnest. Neville strode toward the small kitchen, and leaned against the door. Hannah was cooking dinner, standing in front of the counter, slicing something. Neville moved so he stood behind her. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, stilling the motions of the large knife, then pried it out of her hand. 'Hannah... Can we talk for a bit?'
Hannah started to pick up the knife and resume her preparations, but Neville stilled her hand once more. 'Surely I can finish making dinner while we talk?' she asked teasingly.
Neville soberly shook his head, and led Hannah to the sitting room and urged her to sit on the sofa perching nervously on the edge next to her. He was silent for several long moments, then said softly, 'We're going to have a baby.'
Hannah laughed. 'Oh, don't be daft.'
'No, Hannah, really. They've found a baby for us to adopt.'
Hannah's mouth fell open slightly. 'What did you say?' she whispered, her fingers twined in her apron.
Neville reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the small photograph. He held it out to Hannah. 'His name's Eric.'
Trembling slightly, Hannah took the photograph from Neville and gazed at it. A small boy grinned widely, displaying two tiny teeth. Wispy jet-black hair covered his head and his dark, almond-shaped eyes crinkled with glee. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. The photograph was still lying across the palm of her hand. 'Oh...' She stood up abruptly from the sofa and walked into their bedroom, still carrying the photograph.
Neville watched her leave in bemusement. 'Hannah?' He followed her into the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, still staring at the photograph of Eric. 'Hannah, do you not want him?' Neville asked tentatively.
Hannah shook her head, tears streaming down her face. 'Is he really going to be ours?'
'Yeah.' Neville sat on the bed next to Hannah. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'MLE's going to bring him up this weekend.' Hannah shuddered and muffled sobs shook her body. 'Hannah? Why are you crying?'
She lifted her face from Neville's shoulder and attempted to smile. 'I just can't believe it... After all these years...' She looked down at the photograph. 'We're going to have a baby.'
xxxxxx
James straddled a bench in the changing room, wrapping the joints of his fingers with thick sports Spellotape from the stockpile he had bought from Quality Quidditch Supplies in August. He was running short and made a mental note to owl for more. He flexed the fingers of his still-untaped left hand, listening to the joints pop softly in the murmuring hubbub of the changing room.
Al rested one foot on the bench and began the process of tying the laces of his boots. He pulled the laces tightly and knotted them into a bow, tucking the ends into the top of the boot. He repeated the process with the other boot and strapped on the shin guards.
Neither of them spoke while they completed their preparations, ignoring the soft whispers of Maddie, Isabella, and Rose and the uproariously good-natured insults that passed between Fred and Jacob, as they compared the size of their bats. James met Al's eyes and tilted his head toward the twins and rolled his eyes. Al looked over his shoulder, snorted with muffled laughter. He pulled his gloves over his hands, flexing his fingers to settle them. James exhaled noisily, in silent mirth. Al was a creature of routine when it came to his game preparation. He dressed the same way, in the same order, each time. Even when it came to practices.
Isabella flipped the end of her plait over her shoulder and picked up her broom. 'It's time,' she said quietly.
It was as if someone had cast a spell over the team. Fred and Jacob's faces immediately sobered and all the chatter between the girls ceased. This was the game. The final score was irrelevant. All that mattered was that Gryffindor won. Gryffindor hadn't lost a game to Slytherin in over two decades. And family pride was at stake. Not that any of them mentioned it, but they felt they would disappoint their parents terribly if they lost the Slytherin -- at least the ones who had been Sorted into Gryffindor.
They filed out of the changing room: Isabella, Madeline, James, Fred, Jacob, Rose, then Al. One by one, they kicked off and hurtled into the air.
'And, here's the Gryffindor team, last year's Quidditch Cup champions!' Maya's voice rang over the Quidditch pitch. 'Team captain, Isabella Weasley has elected to keep her team from last year. There are many who attribute the skills of Gryffindor's team to the amount of time they spend playing against each other outside of team practices and during school holidays.' James flew by the stands, and Maya tried to wave at him unobtrusively. James grinned at her, and went into a loop to return the greeting. He took his hands off the broom handle when still upside down to wave at Maya and nearly slipped off. James yelped and clutched the handle, face flaming.
'Oh, he's got it bad, hasn't he?' Ginny murmured to Harry.
'Just a little bit.' Harry shook his head. 'I could have sworn we taught him better broom safety.'
Ginny snorted. 'You really don't think he's thinking about broom safety when he's trying to impress a girl, do you?' She gave Harry a pointed look.
Harry coughed and his ears turned pink. A few weeks ago, he had done the same thing James had done and nearly fell off his broom, trying to impress Ginny in their customary game after Sunday lunch. When she stopped laughing, she grabbed the Snitch from under his nose. 'No, I suppose not...'
Ginny craned her head, searching the stands. 'So which one's Maya?'
Harry pointed to a girl with a wealth of dark hair in the front row of the stands. 'There... The announcer.'
Ginny's head tilted to one side. 'She's cute.'
'I wonder if he'll introduce her after the game...'
'Maybe... If he acknowledges our existence afterward.' Ginny watched James pass the Quaffle behind his back to Madeline without looking. 'They do play the game well, don't they?' she said proudly.
'Yeah.'
'Al's a better flier than you were at that age.'
'Al doesn't have the distractions I had at his age,' Harry retorted.
'And Lucas Urquhart hits a Bludger toward James Potter, one of the Gryffindor Chasers...Oh, sweet Merlin!' Maya's amplified voice grew panicky as Harry and Ginny watched in horror as the Bludger slammed into James' back, between his shoulder blades. He pitched forward off his broom, tumbling to the ground.
Harry stood up, pulling his wand from a pocket as he did so. But when he pointed it at James, to his surprise, his mouth opened, but no sounds came out. He couldn't even force his brain to think the proper incantation. It was Ginny's voice that reverberated through the stands. 'Locomotor retardo!' she cried. Harry looked down and Ginny's arm was outstretched, her wand trembling from the tightness of her grip, face pale as she watched James float slowly to the ground.
Harry grabbed her free hand and towed Ginny behind him to the stairs and all but dragged her to where James lay in the middle of the grass, unconscious. Madam Pomfrey was already at James' side, the end of her wand trailing over him, a pulsing blue dot of light flashing steadily at the area where the Bludger had hit him. 'We need to get him up to the hospital wing,' she told Harry and Ginny. She pointed her wand at James, and a board appeared next to him, and another flick carefully rolled him on it, strapping him securely to the board. Madam Pomfrey murmured, 'Locomotor,' and the board rose from the ground and began to float back to the castle.
Once inside the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey worked quickly to perform a more thorough examination of James. Several slow, tense minutes passed before she straightened and turned to his worried parents. 'Three vertebrae were fractured and I've set them to healing. They ought to be good as new by morning, but I'll have him drink a bone growth potion when he wakes up.'
'So that's good...?' Ginny ventured.
'I'll know more when he wakes up,' Madam Pomfery admitted. 'If he doesn't wake up on his own in a couple of hours, then I'll wake him up.' She flicked her wand and a large overstuffed chair appeared next to James' bed. 'Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I'll be in my office...'
Harry flopped into the chair with a sigh. 'I hate this...'
Ginny joined him with a sardonic hoot. 'Welcome to our world,' she told him. 'I've lost count of the number of hours I've sat next to your hospital bed.'
'I think that's the same one she always used to put me in when I was a student,' Harry commented.
'It's next to her office,' Ginny pointed out. 'Makes absolute total sense. You're the worst patient in the history of magic. They practically have anti-Apparition charms on your bed at St. Mungo's. And James takes after you in that respect.' She stared at James for several moments. 'This sort of thing happened a lot when I was playing. Still does. And they all recovered and were back on their brooms in a week. I mean the worst injury I've seen in ages has just been a concussion and they're out of the hospital in a few days with that. How many times did I break something playing...?'
'Gin?'
'Yeah?'
'You're babbling...'
'Yes, I know.'
Maya walked into the hospital wing and stalked to the foot of James' bed. She gave Harry and Ginny a curt nod. 'I'm Maya Hytner,' she said.
'Hello, Maya.' Ginny rose and held out a hand. 'I'm James' mum, and this is his dad.' She flicked her wand and a chair appeared near the large one she and Harry occupied. 'Please, sit...'
Maya shook her head. 'I just wanted to come by and see how James was doing. Professor Longbottom won't let the rest of your lot in. Says they're too noisy.' She turned and began to walk out of the hospital wing. 'Oh, and when James wakes up, tell him it was worth five penalty goals, Sophie came in as the substitute Chaser and scored a goal, and Al caught the Snitch about ten minutes after the, erm.... Incident.' She grinned slyly. 'I'm supposed to be neutral, right? But I'm going to have a word with Urquhart later. The way he plays, even Falmouth wouldn't take him.' With that, she slipped through the door and left.
Ginny gazed after Maya thoughtfully. 'If I were Urquhart, I think I might be terrified of that talk...'
xxxxxx
James sighed and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. He preferred to sleep on his back, but the large bruise between his shoulder blades ached terribly. Harry had helped him change from his Quidditch robes into a pair of pajamas and out of curiosity, laid his outstretched fingers over it. The bruise was just smaller than the breadth of his father's hand. He wiggled his toes, reveling in the sensation of the sheet rubbing over them. Madam Pomfrey and his parents had been relieved that he was able to feel every tingle, prickle, and tickle Madam Pomfrey had cast at his feet.
James stared sightlessly at the ceiling, wishing for the hundredth time his parents had gone home for the night, but they had elected to stay with him in the hospital wing. He was dying to get out of bed and head for the kitchens. He was starving and all Madam Pomfrey would let him eat earlier had been a bowl of soup. However, his mother would have woken up as soon as his feet hit the floor. He could hear a furious whispered argument outside the door. 'There are thirty minutes before curfew!' Maya hissed. 'I'm hardly out of bounds...'
'Scream, I shall!' retorted Peeves. 'If you talk like that again.'
'Get stuffed, Peeves,' Maya snorted. 'And I'll tell the Bloody Baron if you keep harassing me.' She peered through a crack in the door and tiptoed inside, wincing at the loud squeaking sound the hinges made. 'Will it kill the old bat to have the bloody hinges oiled?' she huffed to herself.
Ginny heard Maya's slow, cautious steps on the stone floor and kept her head resting on Harry's shoulder, eyes closed feigning sleep. She waited, trying not to breathe too loudly, feeling slightly guilty that she was actively eavesdropping on her son's life. 'Hi,' Maya whispered.
'Hi...'
'Here...' Maya set a small knapsack on the bed next to James. 'I pinched some food for you from dinner. I heard Madam Pomfrey tell Professor McGonagall you were awake and having some soup brought to you. I figured you could do with something a little more substantial...'
'Oh, thank you,' James breathed. He pulled out a napkin-wrapped bundle and opened it. 'Mmm. Chicken, jacket potato.'
'I think there's peas in the cup...' Maya peeked into the knapsack and pulled out a teacup shaped bundle with a napkin knotted around it. 'Yeah, here they are...'
James bit into the chicken. 'How did you get so good at pilfering food?'
Maya shrugged. 'When you've been sent to bed without dinner, you learn to sneak down to the kitchen after your parents are asleep, and take something back up to your room without making a mess.' She rummaged through the knapsack. 'Here's a fork...'
'Thanks...' James dug into the jacket potato.
Maya picked up the chair Ginny had conjured earlier and set it down next to James' bed, glancing over her shoulder at Harry and Ginny as she did so, checking to see if they woke up at the sound. 'So, are you okay...?'
James grinned. 'Yeah, I'm fine.' He chuckled softly.
'What's so funny?'
'Well, I woke up strapped to this board...'
James' eyelids fluttered and opened. 'Did we win?' he asked groggily.
Harry bolted to Madam Pomfrey's office. 'He's awake!'
Madam Pomfrey bustled to the bed and jabbed her wand at James' boots and they disappeared along with his socks. She flicked her wand at his feet. 'Can you feel that?'
James' toes curled as he felt a prickling sensation travel up the soles of his feet. 'Yeah.'
'And this?' A feathery tickle replaced the prickles.
James giggled a little. His feet were extremely ticklish. 'Yeah.'
'Wiggle your toes for me.' Obediently, James wiggled his toes.
'All right, lad...' Madam Pomfrey helped him sit up and stacked several pillows behind his head. 'You'll need to stay here until Monday morning, but you'll be able to go to your classes. And no flying and absolutely no Quidditch for two weeks.'
'Two weeks!' James exclaimed in dismay.
'You've had a rather nasty spill, young man, and you'll do as I say,' Madam Pomfrey ordered. She glanced at James' anxious parents. 'He's going to be fine.'
'Your friend Maya came in earlier,' Harry informed James. 'She said you won.'
'M-m-m-maya was here?' James asked, his voice rising into a soprano squeak. He cleared his throat, his face flushed. 'Maya came by?'
Harry ran his hand over James' head. 'Yeah. Neville wouldn't let the others in. Not sure why,' he added in mock-innocence.
'Knowing Fred and Jacob, they'll have smuggled in enough food and drink for a party. And Merlin forbid anyone have fun in here,' James muttered darkly. He looked around the otherwise empty room. 'Are you two staying the night?' he asked, his face crumpling.
'We hadn't discussed it,' Harry began.
'Yes, we are,' Ginny finished, glaring at Harry. 'Just until tomorrow morning.'
'I thought the whole idea was for us to learn independence,' James grumbled.
'Jemmy, if you were forty, your dad and I would still be here,' Ginny said quietly. 'Age has nothing to do with it.'
James picked up the chicken leg and tore off a bite. After he swallowed it, he looked up at Maya. 'I really thought they'd go home. They're not the hovering type. Mum isn't anyway.'
Maya traced the weave of the blanket of the bed. 'Do you remember anything about the accident?'
James shook his head. 'No. The last thing I remember before waking up here was following Maddie to the goal posts. What did happen?'
'Urquhart hit a Bludger directly at your back. Knocked you off your broom. Madam Pomfrey said you had three fractured vertebrae, but she fixed it at the pitch. Then brought you up here.'
'Urquhart, eh?' James' face darkened.
'Well, Professor Williams gave him two weeks of detention and threatened to remove him from the team if he uses dirty tricks like that again. And I, uh...' Maya coughed.
'What did you do?'
'Cornered him in the common room and hexed him about ten different ways,' Maya pronounced proudly. 'I don't like it when people do things like that.'
Ginny bit her lip in an effort not to laugh out loud. I like her...
There was silence as James quietly ate the rest of his dinner. 'So, erm...' He stuffed the napkins back into the knapsack. 'There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon...'
'Mmm-hmmm.'
'Wangowime?'
'What?'
James sighed and picked at a thread of the blanket. 'Next Hogsmeade weekend. Would you like to go with me? You don't have to,' he added. 'We can meet at the Three Broomsticks or something.'
Maya twisted a lock of hair around her finger, uncharacteristically bashful. 'Yes.' She jumped up from the chair and darted out of the hospital wing.
FIFTY ONE -- A Day in the Life
Andrew glanced at the small hourglass on the table as the last grains of sand slipped from the top globe. He looked across the low table at the man sitting rigidly in the comfortable armchair. In all the weeks he'd been coming to the office, he'd never said a word, beyond a stiff greeting. Every time Andrew had asked him a question, his face took on a tense, shadowed edge, and while Andrew could see the answers fly through his head, his mouth remained stubbornly shut. 'Mr. Malfoy...?' he said softly.
'Mr. Malfoy was my father,' the man croaked irritably. 'My name is Draco.'
'All right. Draco.' Andrew balanced the small notebook on the arm of his chair. 'Why are you here?'
'Isn't my time up?' Draco asked, gesturing to the hourglass.
Andrew shook his head. 'You're my last patient today. I've got plenty of time.'
Draco's lips pressed together in a thin, white line and the line between his eyebrows deepened. But he still said nothing.
Andrew took a deep breath. He hardly ever said to patients what he was about to say to Draco. 'I don't think this is going to work,' he said quietly.
Draco's head jerked up in surprise, his normally pale face flushing deeply. 'Why?'
'Mr. Mal---' Andrew checked himself. 'Draco. You have to want this. You have to want me to help you. And if you don't talk to me, I can't help you. I've asked you every question I know how to ask and nothing... So, unless you're prepared to talk to me, you're wasting my time and yours.'
Draco stared down at his interlaced fingers. 'I don't really hate Harry Potter,' he muttered.
'Excuse me?'
'I don't hate him. I envy him, actually.'
'Really? Why is that?'
'He makes it all look so easy,' Draco murmured, thinking of the image he had of Harry sending his youngest son off to school three years ago when Scorpius had started school.
Andrew frowned. 'Oh? And what makes you think Harry Potter has it easier than you do?'
Draco rose to his feet and started to leave the office. As his hand landed on the doorknob, he turned back to Andrew. 'Well, I'm here aren't I? And I can almost guarantee you that he isn't.' With that, he slipped out of the door, annoyed at how badly his hands shook.
xxxxxx
Teddy threw himself into a chair. 'So why am I here again?'
Harry opened the cupboard and pulled out the Pensieve. 'Because I think the key to solving this debacle lies in here.'
Teddy's head craned forward, frowning at the silvery liquid inside. 'What is that?'
'Pensieve.'
'Really?' Teddy propelled himself to the desk. 'I've read about these...' He traced the runes etched on the rim. 'Wicked... How did you get one? They're really rare.'
'Inherited it,' Harry said shortly.
'How does it work?' Teddy breathed reverently.
'How do you know about them?
'All that research I did about memories when I was in school,' Teddy replied, tearing his gaze away from the Pensieve. 'None of the books really talked about how it works. Just said it was a way to review memories...'
'I'm not exactly sure,' Harry admitted slowly. 'I've only used it a few times. I want you to go back and look over things with me. Maybe I'm missing something. But there is something someone has said or done in the past few years and I think if I can figure out what it is, I can figure out who's behind all that Muggle-baiting...' Harry sighed.
'And you know this how?' Teddy drawled, giving the Pensieve a final longing look.
'Came to me in a dream,' Harry said smoothly. He stood back and gestured to the Pensieve. 'Just put your face into it...'
'Yes, I know,' Teddy snorted. 'Probably know more about this thing than you do,' he taunted lightly, as his face touched the surface of the liquid. When he blinked he was standing in Harry's office, more than a year ago, watching himself lounge in one of the chairs across from Harry's desk. 'Wow...' he breathed. 'It's like watching a film...'
'It is pretty neat, isn't it?' Harry commented. He chewed his lip as he watched his conversation with Teddy play out.
Teddy scratched his nose meditatively. 'Maybe. But generally not. We had a decent Legilimens on the squad last year before he retired. He said that's what usually happens with a Mass Memory charm. It makes the person think they were dreaming, and dreams don't show up in the same way as genuine memories in Legilimency or Veritaserum.'
Harry flicked his wand at the memory, stilling it. 'Who was that?'
'Who was who?'
'That bloke on the squad that retired who was a Legilimens,' Harry said quietly.
'Oh, damn... Let me think...' Teddy's brow furrowed as he searched his memory. That had been his first year as a full-fledged member of the Obliviators, and names were still jumbled in his brain. 'He retired just after I finished the training year...' Teddy's hands raked through his hair. 'Caleb... Carl... Callum...' He softly growled in the back of his throat. 'I don't remember,' he said desperately. 'I never used his first name, really...' Teddy added shamefacedly.
'That's all right. We can go back and look at the records of who retired and when...' Harry glanced at Teddy. 'When did he retire exactly?'
'Early summer. The year Al started school... So that would be... 2017...?'
'Yeah.' Harry grabbed Teddy's elbow. 'Come on...' He tugged slightly and the next thing Teddy knew, they were staggering across the rug of Harry's small office in the house. 'Listen, I don't usually do something like this, but, seeing as how you've been in on this from the beginning... Why don't you come with me to finish this out tomorrow? Check the files to see who it was?'
Teddy shook his head. 'No... I've got something else I need to do.'
xxxxxx
Rose sat in a chair next to the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, toes drumming impatiently on the floor, intending to pounce on Hugo as soon as he came into the common room. They hadn't heard anything from their parents recently, and Hermione never let more than a week go by without a letter. It had been more than a month since they'd received a letter from home. Rose's own letters home had gone unanswered. Hugo wasn't exactly a letter writer, but he could be prodded into writing home every once in a while.
Hugo soon emerged, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, absently tucking his shirt into his trousers. He came to a stop at the base of the stairs in surprise. Rose never waited for him in the mornings. She claimed if she did, all that would be left for breakfast would be stale toast and black pudding. 'I finished all my homework last night,' he said in slight alarm, knowing she would immediately write to Hermione if he was neglecting his studies.
'Well, bully for you,' Rose muttered. 'That's not what I was going to ask, but thanks for sharing.' She grabbed Hugo's arm and dragged him to a secluded corner of the common room, as a group of fifth year boys rumbled down the stairs. 'Have you heard from Mum or Dad?' she asked bluntly.
Hugo's expressive face tightened. 'No.'
Rose paled. 'You don't think...?'
'That Grandmum's worse?' Hugo finished. He flung his robes on and took a moment to glare at his sister. 'Of course she's worse,' he snorted. 'Didn't you pay attention when Dad told us about it during the summer?'
'Of course I was paying attention,' Rose snapped. 'But do you think it's gotten so bad that they have to hide it from us?'
Hugo picked up his schoolbag and hoisted it to a shoulder. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he retorted. 'Mum's probably just busy with Grandmum, like she's been since your Easter hols last year. She didn't owl you much then, either, if you recall,' Hugo said pointedly. 'And if I know Dad, he's told Mum he'll write to us, but hasn't gotten round to it yet.'
Rose' mouth worked soundlessly.
'You look like a fish,' Hugo told her conversationally.
'Aren't you worried?'
Hugo started for the portrait hole. 'Yes, I am,' he said mildly. 'But what good it is to get fussed when we're all the way up here, and they're all the way in London?'
'But...' Rose began.
Hugo turned to Rose, his cheeks reddening. 'Stop it,' he hissed. He hadn't liked watching Jane's memory disappear bit by bit the past two years while Rose had been in school. He'd noticed it long before his mother had when photographs that had been on the shelves for many years had suddenly vanished. He'd asked once, where the photograph of his grandfather had gone, and Jane, who never lost her temper with him, snapped at him. He'd fled to the back garden, and passed several minutes pinching off the dead rosehips, just for something to do, even though Hugo didn't care for gardening overmuch. When he returned to the house, Jane acted as if it hadn't happened. 'Just stop, Rosie, all right?' He pushed the portrait hole open, and climbed over it, refraining from slamming it, like he wanted to, but Hugo wasn't in the mood to be lectured by the Fat Lady.
Rose remained in the common room, until she was sure everyone was in the Great Hall, then crept through the corridors to the Transfiguration classroom. She opened the door and slipped through the small opening she created. Professor Trentham came out of the office behind the desk, with a stack of essays in her hands, humming lightly to herself. 'Rose!' she gasped. 'I didn't think anyone was in here.' Trentham put the rolls of parchment on her painfully neat desk and added, 'I thought you'd be at breakfast.'
Rose shook her head, keeping her eyes glued to the scarred surface of her desk. She was afraid if she spoke, she would burst into tears.
Trentham wound through the maze of desks and perched in the chair next to Rose. 'Are you feeling ill?'
'No.' Rose fiddled with an abandoned quill that had been left on the desk. 'I'm fine.'
Trentham eyed the front of Rose's robes. She was an inadvertently messy eater. No matter how hard Rose tried, more often than not, she ended up with jam, crumbs, or something dribbled on her robes, despite the fact Rose's table manners were nearly impeccable. 'No breakfast today?'
'No.'
Trentham mentally calculated how long it had been since she'd seen an owl deliver anything for Rose or Hugo at meals. She still kept an eye on Gryffindor, even though Neville had proven to be an excellent Head in the four years since he'd taken over from her. 'Problems at home?' she guessed.
Rose shrugged. 'Sort of...' she allowed. 'My mum's mother is somewhat ill, and Mum's been helping to care for her.'
'I see.'
'I haven't heard anything from either of my parents in weeks,' Rose sighed. She looked up at Trentham. 'What if... she...?' Rose's throat closed around the words.
'We'll make sure you get home, as quickly as possible. And when you come back, we'll help you catch up with the schoolwork you've missed.' Trentham rose from the chair and patted Rose on the back. 'And Rose...?'
'Ma'am?'
'If you need to talk, my door is open. I know Professor Longbottom is your Head of House and that you've known him your entire life. But if you can talk to me if you want.'
Rose traced the initials a previous student had carved into the top of the desk. She didn't meet Trentham's eyes. 'Thank you, Professor.'
xxxxxx
'Hannah?' Neville opened the hidden door to his quarters at Hogwarts. 'Hannah...?' He trailed off as he gazed at the sitting room floor. Toys were strewn across the floor. It looked like the aftermath of an intense battle.
Hannah darted from the bedroom on the other side of their quarters from theirs with a wild-eyed expression, looking extremely disheveled. 'Shhhh!' she hissed. 'I just got him down for his nap!' She gently closed the door, her shoulders drooping.
'What happened in here...?' Neville asked in confusion.
'Eric.' Hannah sighed sinking into the sofa.
Neville began laughing. 'You must be joking. He's one baby!'
'A one-year old who is capable of being in ten places at once,' Hannah retorted. 'As soon as I got one mess tidied, he'd made another, and was well on his way to creating yet one more.' She rubbed her eyes. 'I gave up trying to clean it all up about eleven this morning.' She wearily pulled her wand from the pocket of her trousers and flicked it at the clutter on the floor. Wooden blocks flew into a small basket; the small menagerie of stuffed creatures lined up on a shelf; various pieces of chunky puzzles put themselves together and stacked into another basket next to the first one. There was a knock on the door and Hannah muffled a pungent curse. 'If they wake Eric up, I won't need my wand to kill them,' she muttered.
Neville opened the door with a grin. 'Hello!' the witch on the other side said brightly in a way that reminded Neville uncomfortably of Dolores Umbridge. 'I'm here for your home visit,' she explained. 'I'm Cary Rodding, from the MLE.'
'Home visit?' Hannah asked blankly from behind Neville. 'Whatever for?'
'I see someone didn't read the terms of the adoption agreement,' Cary said, pursing her lips disapprovingly. 'In order to finalize the adoption, we have to establish that you are providing the child with an appropriate home environment. Otherwise...' She shrugged eloquently.
'Hang on...' Neville turned to Cary. 'You're saying that you can remove him at any time, if you don't think Hannah and I are taking proper care of Eric?'
Cary gave Neville a small nod. 'Precisely.' She looked around the small sitting room. 'Where is Eric?'
'Sleeping,' Hannah said shortly. 'And don't even think about waking him up,' she said menacingly.
'If you take Eric away, where will he go?' Neville persisted.
'We'll attempt to find relatives, if there are any,' Cary sniffed. 'But seeing as how Eric doesn't have any, we'll place him in another home.' She sat on the edge of the sofa. 'Now, then... I'd like to ask the two of you a few questions.'
Neville jabbed his wand irritably at a spot across from the sofa and two chairs appeared. 'Right.' He sat down, pulling Hannah down with him.
Cary consulted a clipboard in her hands, making Hannah's lip curl in distaste. She glanced at Neville and after ensuring Cary couldn't see her, mouthed, 'Umbridge,' making Neville snort.
'Now, Mrs. Longbottom, you are the landlady of The Leaky Cauldron?'
'Yes.'
'And what does that entail exactly?'
Hannah folded her hands together. 'Just the day-to-day operations. I'm not there at all hours of the day... I go in for a bit to check on things, make schedules for the pub staff and the housekeeping staff. Make arrangements for things that need to be repaired. Keep an eye on the supplies and order more. Hire staff if there's turnover, and there's been very little turnover since I've been running the place.'
Cary made a note on her clipboard. 'And how long has that been?'
'Sixteen years.'
'And how does Eric fit into all this?' Cary asked.
'He can go with me. Easily.'
'And what if he can't...?'
'I can take care of him, then,' Neville interjected.
'You're the Herbology teacher here?' Cary inquired.
'Yes. For twelve years,' Neville replied stiffly, repressing a memory of Umbridge asking questions in that same tone of voice when he'd been fifteen.
'And how is your schedule?'
'Six classes a day, generally,' Neville supplied. 'Both our schedules are fairly flexible.'
'And this...' Cary's hand swept in a gesture that took in their quarters. 'Is where you intend to raise Eric?'
'Of course it is,' Hannah snapped. 'Neville's the Head of Gryffindor House,' she added. 'He has to live here.'
'And you think you'll have sufficient attention to raise a child?'
'And why wouldn't we?' Hannah asked incredulously.
'The Head of a Hogwarts House often finds their extracurricular time taken up with other... activities, shall we say? Patrols and the like. Dealing with students.'
Neville exhaled strongly through his nose. ThisisforEric. ThisisforEric. ThisisforEric, he reminded himself. 'I'm hardly the first Hogwarts teacher to raise a family here,' he said quietly. 'Just the first one to do it in decades.' He reached for Hannah's hand. 'We'll make it work,' he insisted.
Cary scribbled rapidly on the clipboard for several long moments. 'Very well,' she said stiffly. 'I shall see you again in two weeks' time.'
'Will we get advance notice?' Hannah sighed.
'No.' Cary stuffed the clipboard into her oversized bag and strode to the door. 'Good day.' She left, leaving Neville and Hannah staring at the door long after she left.
A soft scratching sound at the door sent Hannah lunging at it. When she opened it, one of the school elves stood in the corridor, balancing a large basket in her hands. 'Mrs. Hannah!' she squeaked. 'We's thought you and Mr. Neville would be wanting dinner in here tonight.'
'Oh...' Hannah blinked at the small elf for a moment, before taking the heavy basket. 'Thank you...'
'I's Sammi, ma'am.'
'Thank you, Sammi.'
Sammi peered hopefully into the sitting room. 'Mrs. Hannah...?' she began hesitantly. 'Might I's be coming to see the baby?'
'Really?'
Sammi nodded. 'My great-great-great-great grandmother was helping to raise Professor Binns. He was being born here...'
'That explains a lot,' Neville muttered.
'That would be lovely,' Hannah told Sammi, ignoring Neville. 'Tomorrow afternoon?'
Sammi smiled blindingly and scampered down the corridor.
xxxxxx
'I hate this...' Lily moaned, burying her head into her arms.
'Hate what?' Scorpius asked curiously.
'History of Magic,' Lily groaned. 'It's so boring!' she wailed.
'It's not, really,' Scorpius told her.
Al's quill dropped to the parchment in front of him, splattering his Astronomy essay with bright purple ink. 'Have you gone mad?'
'There is nothing wrong with the subject of history,' Scorpius stated primly, in a manner that reminded the assorted Potters and Weasleys at the table in the library of their uncle Percy, making several of them snigger. Scorpius turned his attention to Fred and Jacob. 'What?'
'Percy!' Fred coughed.
'Swotty prat!' Jacob added, coughing in a similar manner to his twin.
'Don't pay attention to them,' sighed Sophie. 'They not only share a brain, they nicked it from a six-year old.'
'He's right,' Hugo chimed in from his spot at the corner. 'It's not so bad if Binns isn't teaching it.'
'And how do you know that?' James asked, his brow sweeping up. 'You're just an ickle firstie. And Binns is still teaching through the fourth year...' he added with a grimace.
'I had a free period one day last week, and I sat outside the door when the sixth years were in their class.' Hugo scanned his Charms essay for spelling errors. 'Professor Moreno is much more interesting than Binns.'
'Then why on earth doesn't Rafa teach it to the younger students?' Lily demanded.
'Professor Moreno, Lils,' Al reminded her. 'Can't call him by his given name here...'
'I heard it was quite a fight to get Binns to give up teaching the N.E.W.T. level class,' Maddie interjected. 'He put up something of a fuss, then sort of forgot about it, and showed up the first day when Moreno was to begin teaching, and refused to leave.'
'Yeah... I remember that,' Isabella told Lily. 'It was my first year. If I recall, they were getting concerned at the amount of students who weren't advancing in history past the O.W.L. examination. Actually, it was MLE that had the concerns. Rather a difficulty going into the legal branch of MLE if you don't know your history,' she told them.
'Vic told me they've been trying to get Binns to retire since Teddy started school,' Maddie said in a whisper, giving Madam Pince a significant look and clearing her throat. They immediately buried their collective noses into their books and notes, waiting for her to pass their crowded table.
'I heard that Rafa -- Professor Moreno -- oh, bugger it! -- Rafa doesn't want to teach it full time,' Al said, as soon as Madam Pince had gone back to her desk by the door. 'Not while he's teaching Arithmancy as well.'
'Wouldn't mind taking history with Moreno,' Hugo huffed. 'He's really good.'
'He's good in Arithmancy, too,' James said. 'We hardly use the book most of the time. We get assigned a riddle or some other problem for the period and have to try and figure out what it means magically. It's like trying to figure out a code,' he said excitedly. 'It's brilliant, especially if you want to play a joke on someone intelligent.'
'We'll have to remember that when Dad and Uncle Ron finally turn the shop over to us,' Jacob murmured to Fred, who nodded.
Scorpius nudged Lily who had grown bored with the discussion. 'I've got my notes from my first year,' he told her softly. 'You can borrow them, if you want.'
'I don't see why I have to study this rubbish,' Lily snorted. 'It's all goblin wars and ancient laws that don't make sense now.' She shoved the book away a little. 'Dad doesn't use all this, so I shouldn't --' She clamped her mouth shut, eyes darting toward James and Al to see if they'd heard. They hadn't. Lily's career aspirations after she completed her schooling were a closely guarded secret, lest they tease her incessantly over it. She preferred to let them think she wanted to follow Ginny's footsteps and play Quidditch professionally.
'The current laws don't make sense if you don't understand the context in which they were written,' Scorpius pointed out. 'And your dad does use all this, whether you're aware of it or not,' he added, feeling slightly disgruntled.
'But I don't need a N.E.W.T. in it,' argued Lily stubbornly.
'Fine, skive off the class, get a T in it on your O.W.L.,' Scorpius huffed. 'See if I care.'
Lily's mouth dropped open. Scorpius had always treated her with a sort of good-natured tolerance and far more patience than either of her brothers. She stuffed her textbook into her schoolbag and pushed the heavy chair away from the table with a loud scraping noise. 'I think I'm going to go to bed,' she muttered.
'I'll walk you back to the tower,' Scorpius murmured. There had been an unspoken agreement between James, Al, and himself since they found Lily on the Astronomy Tower to not let her wander about the castle alone, if they could avoid it. 'I'll look over your Defense essay when I get back, Sophie, okay?' He followed Lily out of the library, breaking into a run. Lily could walk quite quickly when she wanted to. 'Lily, wait up, damn it!' he hissed.
'I don't need a nursemaid!' Lily shouted. 'I know what the three of you are doing! I can hardly go to the loo between classes without finding one of you lurking outside the bloody door!'
Scorpius grabbed her arm and swung Lily around. 'Don't you know how scared we were when you didn't come back to the tower?' he said heatedly.
'I said I wasn't going to do anything like that again,' Lily reminded him.
'You're bloody well right you won't.' Scorpius began to tow Lily in the direction of the staircase that would take them to the entrance to Gryffindor.
Lily yanked her arm from Scorpius' grasp. 'I'm not a baby,' she muttered.
They walked in silence for several minutes before Scorpius ventured, 'I know Binns is a bore, but you can't just dismiss the entire subject like that.'
Lily merely shrugged. She wasn't about to grace him with a verbal response.
Scorpius sighed and tried another tactic. 'Most of what Binns covers is in The History of Magic and Hogwarts: A History,' he informed Lily. 'If you keep up with the reading, you'll be able to get through the first couple of years. You can pretty much tune Binns out. I'm surprised you haven't thought of this yet...'
Lily's mouth quirked upward, but she still didn't say anything. When they reached the portrait hole, she began to dig through her bag. 'Here.' She held out a bundle to Scorpius. 'It's your cloak. I've been meaning to give it back to you.' She turned to the Fat Lady. 'Barnabas the Barmy,' she said, and the portrait swung open. Lily began to climb through the entrance, but stopped, straddling the ledge. 'And yes, I know, if I read the book, I can keep up with Binns' class. I'm not totally gormless. I was just saying how boring his class was. I don't need a lecture on how important my education is. If I want one, I'll write to Mum.' With that, she swung her other foot inside the entrance and the portrait closed.
Scorpius stood for a moment, trying to think of a good comeback, but he silently conceded that Lily had won, and returned to the library.
xxxxxx
Teddy stood on the shore, squinting in an attempt to make out the hulking structure that was Azkaban. It wasn't visible from the shore through the mist of the North Sea, but Teddy knew it was there, an eddy of silent despair in the swirling seas. He took in a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey, then closed his eyes and turned on the spot.
He reappeared on the rocky shore of the island and stared up at the towering edifice of the prison. It was not nearly as hopelessly desolate as it had been before. At least that's what some of the older Obliviators had told him, their faces paling at the memories that ought to have faded into a shadow. Now, it was guarded by a phalanx of guards who were trained in a cross between the Aurors and Hit Wizards. Their training was punctuated by repeated sessions with a Ministry official trained in Legilimency, as was their working days and nights. Teddy often wondered if it was due more to the fact they mostly came from Slytherin, just to check that the guards weren't covertly aiding or abetting the prisoners.
There weren't very many prisoners anymore. Not since the Ministry quit throwing anyone in Azkaban who so much as sniffled something that sounded like the incantation of a Dark spell. Most of them were serving long-term sentences from the war. A few, like Joel, were actually recent prisoners accused of a legitimate crime.
Teddy warily approached the small door set into the thick wall and laid his hand on the bright blue stone next to it. The door creaked open slowly and Teddy came face-to-face with one of the guards. 'I'm here to see Anderson.' He started to walk through the door, but the guard held up his wand.
'Wait.' He muttered several spells, mistily glowing auras enveloping Teddy. 'Nothin' on him, except his wand,' the guard said aloud. Teddy knew he was speaking to a Dictation Quill. Silently, the guard motioned for Teddy to follow him, and he trailed after the rather menacing-looking wizard to a small room, containing only a table and two chairs. 'Anderson'll be along in a moment. There's anti-Apparition charms in here and don't sit in the chair with its back to the door. It's charmed to bind the person who sits in it.'
'Thanks,' Teddy said quietly. He gingerly approached the chair facing the door and sat down in it carefully. When nothing happened, he settled into it and folded his hands on the table, waiting. Presently, the door opened and Joel shuffled in, his wrists and ankles bound together, then attached to a rope around his waist. He was carelessly guided into the empty chair, which promptly erupted thin black ropes that wrapped tightly around his body.
Teddy watched, seemingly impassive, and waited several long moments before he spoke, his voice dry and scratchy. 'Why did you do it?'
FIFTY TWO -- Degrees of Fear
Teddy waited precisely five seconds for Joel to respond before repeating, 'Why did you do it?' in calm voice that belied the simmering rage just under the surface. He could feel the pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out any reply Joel might have made, if he'd deigned to answer Teddy. The remaining rational corner of Teddy's mind dimly wondered if this was how his father had experienced anger. Teddy could only remember a handful of times he had seen his father lose control, and that was still confined to the pages of a diary. He realized his hands were trembling and clasped them together under the table.
Joel's eyes narrowed. 'You're not part of MLE. I don't have to talk to you.'
Teddy snorted contemptuously. 'No. But we were -- were -- friends. You owe me an explanation. You attacked my godfather, not to mention his family, killing one of his Aurors in the process.' Teddy could feel his skin begin to prickle, as if goose pimples were rippling over his arms. But this time, he recognized it for what it was. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before he could smell the stench of the prison, taste it in the back of his throat. He'd be able to almost feel Joel's pulse, as much as he would be able to hear it, echoing under his own. 'I won't tell, and I won't testify against you,' Teddy growled.
'Aren't you worried about your safety?' Joel muttered. 'Those fools used to burn witches and wizards. What makes you think they wouldn't do it again if they knew?'
'So you went after Muggles with zero connection to the wizarding world?' Teddy's breath caught, and a scrap of his father's diary floated in front of his eyes. 'Or are you like them and have issues with anyone who isn't a pureblood?' he asked quietly.
'Well, of course not!' Joel snapped. 'I left you alone; for all that you're the offspring of a werewolf. You're still magical. Even that girl of yours.' Joel's lip curled slightly. 'Mixing species,' he added. 'Bad enough for a witch or wizard to marry a Muggle, much less another species entirely.' Joel shuddered. 'Too many damn Muggles. I heard about how your godfather's Muggle cousin actually was allowed to come inside St. Mungo's.' Quite suddenly, Joel's eyes grew round and serious. 'Don't you see, Teddy? We won't be safe from them any longer...'
'You're mad,' Teddy whispered, shoving his chair into the wall behind him. 'You've lost your bloody mind...' He rounded the end of the table, and tapped the door with his wand. It opened just enough for him to slip out of the small room. 'I'll be going now,' Teddy informed the guard, his stomach churning from the scent of stale sweat and carelessly washed bodies as well as Joel's rantings about how the Muggles were going to drag off every witch and wizard in Britain. He stumbled to the entrance and once outside the prison, sat down hard on the rocky shore in the shadows of the hulking edifice of Azkaban. Teddy closed his eyes against the waves of nausea that washed over him. After several minutes, the burning in Teddy's stomach subsided enough for him to clumsily get to his feet. He stepped as close to the turbulent shore as he dared and tightly shut his eyes. Determination, deliberation, and destination, he told himself, picturing the opposite shore in Scotland, with the small village and the tiny, smoky pub he'd gone into with Harry the previous summer. He only opened his eyes, only after the suffocating sensation of Apparition had faded, staggering in relief when he realized he had managed to reappear outside the village without Splinching himself.
Teddy began to walk toward the village, intending to visit the pub once more for a cup of hot chocolate, but he suddenly stopped and spun on the spot.
Chocolate wasn't going to help. Not this time.
He spun on his heel, exchanging the view of the North Sea for the cliffs of northern coast of Cornwall. Teddy trudged up the path to the small cottage, the shells embedded in its walls glinting in the sunshine. He pushed the gate open and made his way to the front door. It opened before he could knock. 'Is Vic home?' he asked Bill dully.
Bill frowned. 'I didn't think the two of you had plans tonight.'
Teddy shook his head. 'We don't. I really just need to see Vic, please.'
Bill eyed Teddy's ashen face and nodded. 'She's upstairs.'
Teddy's brows rose in surprise. 'Thanks...'
Bill's eyes narrowed. 'Leave the door open,' he warned, stepping back to allow Teddy into the house.
Teddy edged into the house, and clattered up the stairs. Victoire was sitting cross-legged on her bed, frowning at a large textbook; Maddie's bed was covered under a layer of parchment and books. 'Hi, Teddy,' she murmured distractedly, scribbling a note on the parchment balanced on her knee.
'Can you take a bit of a break, Vic?'
'Yeah...' Victoire slowly closed the book, marking her place with an old quill. She finally looked up at Teddy. The look on his face made her snatch her wand from its place on the windowsill and start flicking it in his direction. 'You look awful,' she commented.
Teddy tried to duck the charms Victoire sent toward him, knowing it was futile. 'I'm fine,' he muttered. 'Budge up,' he told her, settling on the bed. 'I saw Joel,' he admitted. 'Just now.'
'Oh?'
'What makes someone think like that?'
'Like what...?'
Teddy's head slowly moved from side to side. 'The paranoia,' he began. 'The hatred. The need to wall themselves off from the rest of humanity, just because they lack the ability to manipulate magic.' His mouth twisted bitterly. 'And you and I get a pass, because we're magical,' he informed her. 'Even though, according to him, for all intents and purposes, my father was nothing more than a beast unfit to mingle with humans.' He looked at Victoire. Her eyes had grown wide. 'Same thing with your great-grandmother. And my mother and your great-grandfather, grandfather, and father are nothing more than pervs who married beasts,' he spat.
'Not everybody thinks like that,' Victoire told him gently.
Teddy shook his head violently. 'We were sheltered,' he said flatly. 'By our families. We were taught that things were different, that it wouldn't matter...' He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders began to shake. Victoire couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying.
'Teddy...?' She laid a hand on his arm, and Teddy's hands fell from his face and his fingers twined in her hair. His face was streaked with tears, yet he laughed. It wasn't laughter Victoire had ever heard from his lips before. It was cold and ruthless.
'I get it now,' he choked. 'How Dad felt about having me.' He rested his elbows on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees. 'It only took seven years.'
'It's still not everybody,' Victoire ventured. 'Just a few crackpots.'
Teddy snorted. 'By the time you got to school, it wasn't as bad, but there were plenty of others there who felt like that. I spent most of my first year in detention because I was always getting into fights with some wanker questioning my right to be at school.' He rubbed his sleeve under his nose. 'McGonagall rounded up the ringleaders and well, you know what she can do with just a look. Just because it stopped doesn't mean they changed their minds.' A pained expression crossed Teddy's face. 'I just never dreamed that Joel felt like that...' He fell sideways across the bed. 'Senseless,' he muttered, pulling Victoire down to lie beside him, shifting until she spooned against his chest, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist.
After several minutes, Victoire felt Teddy's breathing slow. 'I need to study, Teddy...' she said softly.
'Just a few minutes,' he murmured indistinctly. 'Haven't slept much...'
'Mmmmkay....' Victoire told him, her own voice fading.
xxxxxx
Bill glanced impatiently at the ceiling, his nostrils flaring. 'What are they doing up there?' he growled.
Fleur laughed softly and poured more tea into his cup. 'What do you zink zey are doing?' she chuckled. 'Ze door is wide open.'
'It's too quiet,' Bill complained.
'Zey are not going to do anyzing while we are here, cheri . Not any more zan we would have at your maman's before we were married,' Fleur pointed out.
'Yeah, that makes me feel better,' Bill grumbled, picking up his cup.
'Would you razer zey did zings behind our backs? At least Victoire has been honest about it.' Fleur calmly sipped her tea. 'Zat is more zan you or I could say, no?'
'That's different,' Bill spluttered.
'Oh? How is it different?'
'It just is.'
'Will it make you feel better if one of us goes upstairs to check on zem?' Fleur sighed. 'Like zey were bébés?'
'Yes.'
'Fine.' Fleur rose gracefully from her chair. 'I shall go up, zen. You,' she added warningly, 'will stay right zere.' She lightly walked up the narrow stairs, and peered around the edge of Victoire's open bedroom door. Victoire and Teddy were both sound asleep. Fleur flicked her wand at the door, and it partially closed, leaving a still sizeable gap.
xxxxxx
Hermione cradled a cup of tea between her hands. She used to love Saturdays. Saturdays, even after Rose and Hugo were born, were spent in leisurely abandon. But for the past few months, she had come to dread them. She spent most of her Saturday morning and afternoon with her mother. But more and more, the woman wearing her mother's clothes and face wasn't Jane. Hermione wasn't sure anymore who that was. Jane greeted Hermione with a blank stare that increased in duration as the weeks passed. Hermione thought that soon Jane wouldn't recognize her at all. The only person Jane remembered now was Richard, convinced they had hidden him somewhere in the home. Hermione was so lost in her misery; she didn't see Ron drop into the chair across the table.
'Sickle for your thoughts?' he asked, prying the tea from her hands and taking a sip.
Hermione gave him a wan smile. 'Not worth that much,' she said quietly.
'I don't have to go in today,' Ron told her.
'But it's the holidays,' Hermione protested weakly.
Ron flapped a hand toward the window. 'If George can't handle a Saturday, even with the extra help in, he ought to break his wand in half.'
'That would be great,' Hermione said, before a voice called from the sitting room.
'Hello?'
'Mum?' Ron tilted his chair back on its rear legs, peering into the sitting room. 'Why are you here...?'
'Don't you go to sit with your mum on Saturdays, Hermione?' Molly asked, ignoring Ron. 'I thought you did...'
'Yes, I do.'
'Oh, well, then. Is Jane up for visitors?'
Hermione hesitated. 'I don't think --' she began, before Ron elbowed her in the ribs. She glanced sharply at him, and he attempted to communicate with an elaborate system of semaphore involving his eyebrows. 'Oh, honestly, Ronald, just say it.'
The back of Ron's neck flushed and he glared at Hermione for a moment. 'I just thought that maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for Mum to come with us. Help run interference with your mum is all...' he muttered.
Molly planted a hand between Ron's shoulder blades and pushed until all four legs of his chair rested on the floor. 'Don't lean back in your chair, Ron,' she said absently. 'You'll fall.'
'Thirty-nine, Mum, not ten,' Ron grumbled.
'I've got a few more jumpers to finish,' Molly told Hermione. 'I can sit with your mother and chat about this and that, while I work.'
'But she won't remember you,' Hermione said.
'Doesn't matter,' Molly said breezily, flapping a hand. 'It can't be much different from when Auntie Muriel went tetchy after Harry and Ginny's wedding.'
'You mean she wasn't before?' Ron asked incredulously.
Molly rolled her eyes. 'My cousins and I used to take turns during the day with Muriel. If we acted as if we didn't know her, things seemed to be all right.'
Hermione ran her hands through her hair several times, making it wildly stand on end. 'All right, fine... Just give me a few minutes to get dressed...' She pushed her chair back and left Ron and Molly alone in the kitchen.
Molly gazed at Ron beadily. 'You almost gave it away,' she murmured, pulling her wand from her bag, and flicking it at the kitchen door.
'What was I supposed to say?' Ron demanded. 'We want to come with you, because you're wearing yourself down to a thread doing this all yourself?'
'Don't use that tone of voice with me,' Molly said genially. 'You might be nearly forty years old, but you're never too old for me to hex, young man.'
'You know Hermione, Mum,' Ron continued blithely. 'She won't do anything unless she thinks it's her idea.'
'I haven't any idea what that must be like,' Molly said dryly. 'Because of course all my children did exactly everything I told them to do.'
Ron grinned unabashedly at his mother. 'Yeah, we were all perfect.' He tilted his chair on its back legs once more. 'Harry just pretends to be.' Molly swatted Ron's shoulder as she lifted the charm from the door. 'I have to make a stop on the way to Oxford,' Ron said, letting the chair fall to the floor with a thump. 'I'll meet the two of you there.'
'I thought you weren't going into the shops,' Molly said suspiciously.
'I'm not.'
xxxxxx
Lily poked at her breakfast morosely. 'What's crawled up your bum and died?' Jacob asked, dishing eggs onto his plate.
'I don't see why first years can't go into Hogsmeade,' she pouted.
'Because you're all so titchy. Get lost, you will,' added Fred. 'Second years, too. Especially if they're as small as Sophie. She's hardly more than a midget.' His head rocked to the side, as Sophie aimed a well-timed miniature Bludger from the traveling toy Quiddtich set she had set up between her plate and Nicky's.
'I'm not a midget,' Sophie loftily informed her brother. 'I'm petite. Aunt Fleur said so!'
'Hogsmeade's not that big of a deal, anyway, Lily,' Jacob told her, through a mouthful of toast.
'Says you,' she retorted grumpily.
James slid into a chair and began to pile food on his plate. 'What's got your knickers in a twist?' he asked Lily.
'She's pouting because first years aren't allowed into Hogsmeade.'
'Is it so awful to want to get out of here, just once?' Lily cried, flinging her arms wide, a bit of potato flying off her fork to hit Scorpius in the face. 'Sorry...' she muttered, blushing.
'Don't mention Ogsmeadehay to Lily,' James warned Al and Scorpius, who had just joined them for breakfast.
'Oh, stop it,' Lily huffed. 'I'm not four and you don't have to try and pretend to not talk about things.'
'Acting like you're four,' Al commented, pouring orange juice into his goblet and gulping it thirstily. 'Don't you have homework?'
'It's done,' Lily said proudly. 'Finished it last night.'
'Ooo c'lh eeee 'agi,' James spluttered through his sausage.
Maddie reached over and smacked James on the back of the head. 'For Merlin's sake, James, act like you have table manners. I know Aunt Ginny taught them to you,' she sniffed disdainfully.
'Ow!' James rubbed the back of his head. He swallowed the bite of sausage and repeated, 'You could go see Hagrid, the lot of you staying.'
Hugo's eyes widened fearfully. 'Do we have to eat lunch there?' he whispered.
'Just move it around your plate,' Isabella advised. 'But if he offers you a rock cake, say you're not peckish just now, and will save it for later.' She sipped her coffee. 'Gave one to my owl one year... Damn near killed the poor thing.'
'And don't try to eat it yourself,' Rose added. 'Mum says she almost broke a tooth once.'
'Even the Giant Squid won't eat them,' Alex said in hushed wonder. The Giant Squid would eat nearly anything that was thrown into the Black Lake.
'Ugh,' Lily muttered with a visible shudder. Hagrid was a great one for tea and sympathy. He could brew a good cuppa, but cooking was not one of his skills, even if he did try to use magic.
Scorpius spread marmalade on a slice of toast and gazed at Lily speculatively. Under the guise of leaning across her for a box of cereal, he murmured, 'What is it you want from the shop?' Lily didn't reply, but dug into the pocket of her jeans and slipped a scrap of folded parchment into his hand. Scorpius thumbed it open and nodded as he poured cornflakes into a bowl. He shoved the scrap of parchment into his own jeans pocket.
xxxxxx
Ron opened the door to Greenhouse One and smiled in satisfaction. The cuttings he'd brought Neville from Richard's rose garden grew in wild abandon down one side of the greenhouse. The canes were heavy with rosebuds, making the warm, humid air redolent with their heady scent. Neville was perched on a tall stool grading papers, while Eric sat in an unused corner of the greenhouse, industriously digging with a small shovel. 'How's fatherhood treating you?' Ron asked, sliding onto a stool across the table from Neville.
Neville glanced up and grinned. 'I feel like I'm cheating,' he confessed. 'I got to miss all the crying and two in the morning feedings.'
'You're not missing much,' Ron assured him. 'This is when they start to get interesting.'
Neville snorted. 'I don't think Hannah thinks so. I didn't know one small baby could create such havoc.'
'To put it mildly,' Ron agreed.
Neville dropped his quill and shot off the stool. 'No, Eric. Don't eat that!' He squatted next to the boy and held out a hand. 'Give it to me.'
Eric shook his head. 'NO!' He clutched whatever it was in his chubby fists to his chest, leaving dirty streaks on his small jumper. Ron nearly gagged when a common earthworm began to wriggle from the top of Eric's fist. It had been years since either Hugo or Rose had tried to use the creatures in the garden as a mid-morning snack.
'Wouldn't you rather have a banana?' Neville wheedled. Eric shook his head even harder, making his straight black hair fly about his head. 'Eric Zhao, give me the earthworm,' Neville said quietly, reverting to the same authoritative voice with the steely undertone he used with his more recalcitrant students. It made Ron blink. It gave him an idea of what Neville must have been like in his seventh year of school. 'Now.'
Eric gazed up at Neville with shiny dark eyes and reluctantly gave Neville the limp earthworm. Neville straightened with a muffled grunt, as his knees popped, and took the hapless worm to the rose beds and gently released it. Nearly simultaneously, Eric burst into tears. Neville swept the boy into his arms, and gently patted him on the back murmuring nonsense, while Eric burrowed his face into Neville's neck, hands twining into the folds of Neville's robes. After a few minutes Eric's howls faded into whimpers and he blindly poked a thumb into his mouth. Neville's fingers wrapped around Eric's wrist, intending to pull out the filthy thumb, but Ron shook his head. 'A little dirt's not going to hurt him.'
Neville sighed. 'Now would be the perfect time for that bloody ministry witch to come in on a surprise visit.'
'I'd leave out the part where Eric tried to eat an earthworm,' Ron promptly replied, barely keeping a straight face.
Neville chuckled a little. 'Good advice.' He smoothed a hand over Eric's hair, then wiped the tearstains from his round cheeks. 'He gets into everything...'
'Rose ate Crookshanks' food when she was little like that,' Ron said ruefully. 'Thought Hermione was going to come unglued.'
'Thank God we don't have a pet,' Neville muttered.
'You have an owl, don't you?' Ron asked. 'Yeah... Owl Treats. Charlie had to stop storing them under the kitchen sink when Aiden found them once he learned how to crawl.'
'I think Hannah's already put anything within Eric's reach over our heads. Did it after we'd had him a day.' Neville shifted Eric, so he could hold him with one arm, and began to grade papers again. 'I've been meaning to write to you and thank you for the cuttings,' he said, gesturing toward the roses with his quill. 'The seventh year Potions class is experimenting with the formulas for the ones they learned in their first year. One of the students is trying to see if adding rosehips to the Fainting Solution makes it better. I hope you don't mind if she uses them.'
'No.'
'And it's good practice for the first years to grow and harvest plants magically. Especially since roses are relatively harmless and not in high demand as potions ingredients.'
Ron slid off the stool and wandered down the row, stopping occasionally to examine a rosebud. 'They've done a good job. Hermione's mother will like them.' He rummaged in a box of classroom supplies and unearthed a small set of shears and began clipping rosebuds. 'It's kind of hard to force them like you've been able to do here in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood, and since we share a garden with about four other families...'
'What about putting a greenhouse at her parents' house, or have you managed to sell it...?'
'She let it to one of her cabana boys. He and his wife just had a baby a couple of months ago, and they needed a bigger place, and Hermione was willing to let them have it for what they were paying for some dinky flat in Diagon Alley that was smaller than the one over the shop. We managed to donate most of Richard's rosebushes to garden devoted to maintaining heirloom plants and flowers... Didn't seem fair to expect Seth and his wife to take care of them, nor to have me popping over at odd times to do it.' Ron pulled that morning's paper from the pocket of his coat. He pointed his wand at it and murmured, 'Aguamenti.' He wrapped the stems in the damp newspaper then carefully bundled the whole thing in several layers of dry newspaper. 'Thanks, Nev. I owe you one. More than one...'
'Then don't be surprised when Hannah and I ask you to babysit Eric during the school holiday,' Neville said quickly.
Ron laughed outright. 'That I think we can do. I'll see you later, Nev.'
xxxxxx
Lily stood just outside the school entrance, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. She set off toward Hagrid's hut, intending to say hello and play with his dog, Brutus for a while. But as she came closer to the round cabin, a flash of movement in the Forbidden Forest caught her eye. Curiously, she veered into a clearing, then disappeared into the thick foliage that was still remarkably green and full, even in the dead of winter. She cautiously slipped between the large tree trunks, fascinated by the way the light changed from the bright, clear light that made the snow sparkle to a muted green, filtered by the deep green pine needles above her head. She tilted her head back, staring at the canopy of branches. She didn't see the large creature standing silently in front of her, a bow held lightly in his hands. Not until she ran into his side.
Startled, Lily fell backward, landing on her rear. She quickly pulled her wand from her pocket, realizing as she did so that it was futile -- the most she could do defensively at this point in her education was send a great deal of sparks at the large chestnut centaur looming over her. The centaur seemed amused as he crossed his arms over his chest. 'Are you hurt?' he asked in a rumble that Lily could feel in her fingertips.
'N-n-n-no.'
The centaur held out a hand and pulled Lily to her feet. 'May I see your wand?' he asked. Lily's brows drew together suspiciously, but she allowed the centaur to examine her wand. He ran an appreciative fingertip over the polished surface. 'Rowan, is it not?'
'Yes.' Lily wrapped her fingers around the handle when the centaur offered it back to her. 'Who are you?'
'Ronan.'
Lily's brows shot up in surprise. 'Oh, you're Ronan! When I went to get my wand, Mr. Ollivander said the core was the hair from the tail of a centaur. My aunt Hermione asked which one and he said it was yours. I'm Lily, by the way.'
Ronan's eyes narrowed as he looked at Lily. 'And you are the daughter of one Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley,' he stated. 'You have the look of your mother about you and the attitude of your father. A most fearsome combination when you grow into your abilities as a witch, young one.' Ronan gently began to herd Lily back to the entrance of the Forest. 'However, you should not be here. The Forest is forbidden to the students at the school, for your own safety. The other inhabitants here might not be as obliging as I.'
'Thanks...' Lily walked next to Ronan for several moments before asking, 'What other sorts of creatures live here?'
Ronan snorted, in a rather horse-like manner. 'Not afraid of much, are you?'
Lily shrugged. 'Some things aren't worth getting fussed about,' she retorted. 'Nothing worse than being afraid of your own shadow.'
'There are things you should fear, Lily,' Ronan told her.
'My cousin Hugo says there's a difference between being afraid something and respecting what it can do,' Lily shot back.
'And how old is this Hugo?'
'Eleven.'
Ronan grunted softly. 'A wise young man, Hugo.'
'If you say so...' Lily said doubtfully. She glanced at Ronan from the corner of her eye. 'So what else lives in here, besides centaurs?'
xxxxxx
Draco slouched in the armchair, glaring at Andrew. 'So now what?' he huffed. 'Am I supposed to tell you that my father was distant, my mother was overprotective, and my childhood was absolute rubbish, all the while lying on the floor in a fetal position while I'm sobbing?' he asked sardonically.
Andrew's lips twitched. 'If you want to.' He turned to the notes he'd made in Draco's chart from his last session. 'But I'd like to start with what you said before. About not hating Harry Potter.'
'So? Lots of people don't hate Harry Potter.'
'True, but lots of people also didn't belong to groups actively attempting to kill him, either.'
'Touché,' Draco murmured. 'But I didn't really hate him. Not even when we were at school. Well, I did at first, because he wounded my overinflated sense of pride, but after some time, it turned to something else.'
'If you didn't hate him, then what was it?'
'Envy, I suppose. He didn't have to deal with parents, or try to live up to this completely unrealistic idea of what he should be. Later, I sort of felt sorry for the poor bastard.'
'Sorry in what way?'
Draco rubbed a fingertip over the weave of his jumper for a moment, thinking. 'It's not like he asked for any of it. No more than I had, in the end.' He grew nauseous thinking of what his last two years of school had been like. Draco drew several slow deep breaths, thankful for once, that he'd had to learn to function while hungover. It was rather a lot like sifting through his memories. 'And if both of us refused to do what we'd been set to do, we'd both be dead.'
'So, the two of you are more alike than probably either of you realize.'
'No.' Draco leaned forward and picked up a small, squishy ball, and began to squeeze it, passing it back and forth between his hands. 'Because you know who gets Sorted into Slytherin? Cowards. And Harry Potter is not a coward. Not when he was eleven years old, and not now. And I... I was.' Draco looked down at the brightly-patterned material covering the ball in his hands. 'It all came so easily to him. Flying, Quidditch, even magic, when he wasn't trying to avoid being injured or killed, and frankly that was most of the time he was in school. I saw him a few times, before the war, before it all went to hell, when we weren't at school. And it was glaringly obvious to anyone who bothered to look that they...' Even now Draco couldn't make himself say their name. 'His wife's parents,' he managed to choke. 'They cared enough to bother with him, and he wasn't even related to them. He didn't have to do anything special for them to be concerned about his welfare.
'I would have given anything...' Draco trailed off and stared down at the squishy ball, then set it back on the table so hard, the hourglass rattled. 'But we're not talking about me,' he said pointedly.
'At the moment, no.' Andrew set his ordinary Muggle pen down. 'But at some point the topic of conversation has to turn back to you. If you don't want to talk about yourself, then perhaps you might be amenable to telling me what made you come here? You don't have to, though. Not right now.'
Draco sighed and laced his hands together, the thin band of his wedding ring pressing into his flesh. It still felt alien on his finger, even after fifteen years of marriage. 'I have a wife I don't know how to talk to,' he began awkwardly. 'And a son I can't...' Draco's eyes burned. 'I have spent most of the last three years drinking myself into a stupor to the point where I seriously think I'm going to drink myself into an early grave, if I don't stop. I don't want to end up like my...' Draco's lips clamped shut. He ground his teeth for several moments. 'My mother stayed with my father until the day he died,' Draco spat. 'She's all but branded like we were, just by association. She should have left when she had the chance...' he mused. 'And so should my wife.'
Draco exhaled heavily and stood up. 'Next month?'
Andrew nodded. 'Just one more thing,' he began, 'before you go.'
'All right,' Draco agreed warily.
'Speaking of your wife -- does she know you're here?'
Draco started guiltily. 'No,' he said in a low voice.
'Don't you think you ought to tell her?' Andrew said calmly.
Draco snorted audibly. 'What for? So she can think I'm even more of a daft plonker than I already am?'
'You're not mad, you know,' Andrew said. 'And if you're not telling her where you go, I'll bet my best quill she thinks you're doing something else.'
xxxxxx
Ron strolled down the corridor, trying not to notice the residents who were unable to walk, and sat listlessly in wheelchairs, staring off into the distance, locked in a private world of their own making. Those were the ones that were no longer able to talk, for the most part. If they still retained their power of speech, what they said was mostly garbled murmurs. If Jane survived that long, it was what they had to look forward to with her. There were times Ron hoped Jane would die like Richard -- suddenly and in her sleep. He stopped in the doorway to Jane's room. Hermione was nowhere to be seen, but Molly sat in a chair next to Jane, peacefully knitting the Muggle way, chatting to Jane about inconsequential things. 'Hello, Mum,' Ron said cheerily.
'Ah! Ron. Jane, this is Ron, my youngest son,' Molly explained, as if Ron hadn't been married to Hermione for sixteen years. It was much easier if they didn't try to force Jane to remember them.
'How are you feeling today?' Ron asked, with a slight frown. Jane was lying in her bed, with the quilt drawn to her chin. Jane gave Ron a puzzled grimace, her mouth working soundlessly. She gave up and pointed to the roses Ron carried. 'These are for you,' Ron said, ducking into the small bathroom, searching for the plastic vase. 'Looks rather dull in here. Thought you could use something to brighten things up.' Ron set the bouquet of roses on table next to Jane's bed.
Jane gave the roses a perplexed glance. 'Richard grows lorries,' she said, the bemusement deepening on her features. 'Not right...' she said fretfully.
'Roses,' Ron supplied. Jane blinked rapidly, trying to process this seemingly new information. After several minutes, she gave up, sinking back into the lethargy Ron had seen when he entered the room. 'They have names, too,' he told her. 'This one is called Sarah van Fleet,' he said, naming each rose as his fingertips brushed lightly over the petals. 'La Reine Victoria, Louis Phillipe, Camille de Rohan, Comtesse Cecile de Chabrillant, and Gentle Hermione...'
'Pretty,' Jane managed to say. Her eyes closed, as if the effort of forming words exhausted her.
Ron glanced at Molly. 'Where's Hermione?' he whispered.
'Talking to the Healer assigned to Jane,' Molly murmured. 'Jane's not well.'
'What does that mean?'
'I don't know, Ron...'
At that moment, Hermione appeared in the doorway, ashen and shaking. She motioned to Ron, and he slipped out into the corridor to talk to Hermione. 'Mum said your mum's ill?' Ron asked.
Hermione nodded. 'Can we go home?' she asked, her voice trembling. 'Now? Please?'
'I'll get Mum,' Ron said, leaving Hermione alone in the corridor. She wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to still the tremors that ran through her body.
xxxxxx
Scorpius clambered through the portrait hole, sighing blissfully at the warmth of the Gryffindor common room. 'Finally,' he breathed. 'Too bloody cold outside...'
Lily and Hugo looked up from their Reusable Hangman. 'Well, at least there's one advantage to not being able to go,' Hugo said to Lily, using the stylus to scribble another letter on the miniature chalkboard on the front of the gallows. 'We get to stay in a nice, warm common room.'
'Very true,' Lily agreed. 'And we get the good seats in front of the fire.'
Scorpius flopped to the floor next to Lily and handed her a small magenta paper bag. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah... The wind just goes right through you. Came back early.' He shivered and scooted closer to the fire.
Lily opened the bag and smiled. 'Brilliant,' she murmured. Inside were two of the Muggle tricks Ron and George stocked -- a lock-picking kit and a short piece of rope, charmed to knot itself around your wrists for one minute, so the owner could try to learn to wriggle out of it. The more you used it, the more complex the knot.
'Why did you want them?' Scorpius asked.
Lily's grinned mischievously. 'Practice.'
FIFTY THREE -- Transition
James set his empty butterbeer bottle on the table, surprised at the number of bottles that already littered its surface. Drinking butterbeer was known to give a person the tiniest feeling of euphoria. Usually his parents only allowed him one bottle at a time, two on special occasions. It wasn't particularly strong, but James wasn't sure if the giddiness he currently felt was the result of his fourth butterbeer of the afternoon, or the girl sitting across from him.
Mercifully, his cousins had pretty much left them alone. Madeline and Isabella had joined them for a few minutes earlier in the afternoon, as had Jacob, Fred, Al and Scorpius. Maya had been far more gracious about their intrusions than James had. 'It's getting late...' Maya told James reluctantly. 'Dinner's about to start soon.'
'I suppose.' James stood up and snagged Maya's coat from the back of her chair. She looked up at him, surprised, but he merely held the coat open for her, his cheeks slightly pink. 'Mum says it's nice to do this...' he muttered.
Maya smiled and shyly murmured, 'Thanks...' as she slid her arms into the sleeves, buttoning the coat while James quickly donned his own. James gestured to the door, and Maya sidled around him, edging around the table.
'Oi!' Someone across the pub shouted to the pair. They both froze, faces set into expressions of surprise. 'There's mistletoe there. Can't leave until ye give 'er a kiss, then!'
James glanced at Maya, who was struggling not to giggle, while she gazed at the spring of mistletoe floating in midair over their heads. He stooped and quickly pecked her on the cheek, feeling his own face erupt into flames at the accompanying catcalls and hoots of laughter, then glared at the person who'd called attention to the mistletoe. He took Maya's hand and towed her from the Three Broomsticks, horribly embarrassed. He abruptly stopped and looked down at her. 'I can do better than that,' he told her, then cupped her face in one of his hands, and tilted it up. He brushed his lips over hers, oblivious to the muffled cheers drifting from the windows of the Three Broomsticks. James grinned bashfully at Maya, the giddiness rising even higher.
'Your eyes are pretty,' Maya blurted. Her own eyes widened. 'Oh, Merlin, did I say that out loud?'
'Yeah...'
'How'd you get blue, anyway? Your brother's are green and your sister's are brown...'
James took Maya's hand, albeit much more gently than he had done in the pub and they began to trudge back to the school. 'My granddad Weasley's eyes are blue. I'm the only one out of the cousins with his eye color.' He squeezed her hand a little. 'I never really thanked you properly for bringing me dinner last weekend.'
'It was nothing,' Maya waved him off. 'Besides, I've seen you eat. I didn't imagine a bowl of soup would do for you.'
'I'll have to show you how to get to the kitchen here,' James mused. 'They like to press so much food on you that your trousers won't fit if you eat it all.' He gave her a sidelong look from the corner of his eye. 'So why did you have to learn to sneak food from the kitchen at home?'
'Oh...' Maya colored and bit her lip. 'I was something of a terror when I was younger. I grew up in the pub my parents run, right? We have a few guests that always stay with us when they're in Falmouth. Usually Quidditch scouts or writers. A few of the players live there during the season... So I was always being spoiled by some regular guest or another. And the only punishment my mum and dad could agree on was sending me to bed without any dinner. So I'd wait until everyone had gone to bed, and sneak down for a bite. I had to be really careful not to make a mess because Mum would know it was me, and I'd be in even more trouble...' She paused, James' words finally working their way through. 'Who are "they"? In the kitchen?'
'The school elves,' James said offhandedly.
Maya came to a dead stop, dropping James' hand. 'The school has house elves?' she spluttered indignantly. 'That's barbaric!'
'They're not enslaved, Maya,' James told her loftily. 'They're paid, they have days off, they can leave and find employment elsewhere if they so wish. Most of them don't want to leave. They're treated a lot better than the Healer trainees for Godric's sake,' he snorted. 'Believe me; Aunt Hermione made it her mission in life when she was younger to make things better for house elves. And Dad was right with her. Every house elf in Britain is protected, just like the school elves. If they're mistreated, they have an independent panel to air their grievances.' His eyes narrowed. 'I thought you would have known that.'
'I do,' Maya said icily. 'I still think it's barbaric to expect any sort of being to pick up after us. Do you ever think about how much they have to do?' she ranted. 'They cook, they clean, they keep the fires going in the winter, the lamps lit in the corridors. They wash your pants for Merlin's sake! They clean all the mud off your Quidditch gear, keep your bed made up in fresh linens every week, and I've had to clean a lot of bathrooms in my life, but nobody could pay me enough to scrub the ones in the boys' dormitories! I don't give a rat's arse what House you're in! And for what? Five lousy Galleons a month? And just because they can leave their homes don't mean they will. I would have thought you would realize that, James.'
'I do,' James said quietly. 'But compared to how it used to be, it's loads better.'
'Doesn't make it right,' Maya retorted.
'Yeah, you're right.'
Maya blinked. 'What?'
'You're right.'
'Did I just win?' she asked hopefully.
James snorted. 'We weren't fighting, Maya. We were discussing.'
'Oh, so is that what you call it?'
James shrugged and took Maya's hand, and began walking up the path toward the school. 'It's what my mum and dad call it.'
'Your mum's really nice,' Maya said casually.
James laughed outright. 'Don't get on her bad side,' he told her. He watched her for a moment. 'Actually, if what the stories my uncles say about Mum are true, she's a lot like you.'
'But your mum was a Gryffindor, and I'm a --'
'Doesn't matter,' James interrupted. 'Uncle Ron says Mum was one for hexing a git when they needed it.' He brushed a lock of Maya's hair from her face. 'And apparently, so are you.'
'If I was like your mum, I don't think I'd have been Sorted where I was,' Maya persisted.
James shook his head. 'Your House has nothing to do with you.' He tugged on the large door at the front entrance of the school with both hands, until it opened just enough for Maya to slip though. He slithered through after her as the door began to creak shut. He walked with her to the doorway of the Great Hall and in full view of the entire school, kissed her quickly. 'Library after dinner?'
Maya pretended to consider James' offer. 'Oh, all right. You can help me with Flitwick's essay.' She all but lightly skipped to the Slytherin table.
James climbed into a bench at the Gryffindor table and gave Lily a quizzical nudge. She was glaring at a padlock floating in front of her, two ordinary Muggle paperclips on the table next to her plate. 'What the hell?'
'Sod off, James,' Lily muttered
'You owe a Sickle to the jar,' Al automatically murmured. 'Both of you.'
'How much money's in that jar?' Scorpius asked.
'Enough for Dad to take Mum to see a film,' Al said.
'I don't understand...' Scorpius mused, cutting a potato in half. 'If the purpose of the jar is to keep you lot from swearing, shouldn't there be less money in it by now?'
'One would think,' Isabella chortled. 'But it hasn't worked.'
'Why are you bothering learning how to pick a lock, Lils?' James sighed, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
Lily picked up one of the paperclips and straightened it, her tongue poking slightly between her lips. 'Because...' she began with exaggerated patience. 'You never know when you won't have a wand...'
James didn't say anything, just looked at her strangely. On the way up to the dormitory, Hugo wrapped an arm around Lily's waist. 'I know why you're doing that,' he told Lily. 'Learning Muggle tricks.'
Lily wound her arm around Hugo's waist and hugged him. 'Oh, really?'
Hugo looked down his long nose at his cousin. 'Yes, I do,' he said in a mock-superior tone of voice. He sobered and sighed. 'Your mum and dad will go spare,' he said, seriously.
'I know.' Lily gave Hugo a conspiratorial wink. 'They just can't find out until it's too late to do anything about it.'
'Yeah, let me know how that works out for you,' Hugo snorted.
xxxxxx
Ron waited until Molly left them alone before he dropped into the chair next to Hermione, pushing the remains of their dinner to the middle of the table. Hermione had hardly done more than pick at hers. But she'd remained remarkably calm since they'd returned to London from Oxford. 'Right, then. What's going on with your mum?'
'She's dying,' Hermione said steadily. 'Well, she will if I let it happen.'
Ron nodded a few times. 'Mmm-hmmm. And what does that entail? Exposing her on some hillside somewhere?'
'Not especially.' Hermione picked up her fork and began to poke at her nearly-untouched food. 'She keeps getting ill. And she won't take the medication for it voluntarily. She thinks they're trying to poison her, ironically enough. I -- we -- can do one of two things... I can have them hospitalize her every time she comes down with something, where they will basically Stun her while they give her the medicines intravenously. They've tried doing it without Stunning her, but she pulls the needle from her arm.' Hermione groped for appropriate parallel terminology to describe what happened to her mother.
'That sounds like fun,' Ron commented dryly.
'Oh, it is.' Hermione laid the fork on her plate and propped her head in her upturned hand. 'Or... Or I can tell them to stop. Stop treating her when she gets sick again, to just make her comfortable, give her something for the pain and then...'
'And then...?' Ron prodded.
'And then she... Shuts down.'
'How long?'
Hermione folded her arms on top of the table and lowered her head to rest on them. 'I don't know. They don't know. Could be weeks. Could be months.'
Ron leaned back in his chair. 'For what it's worth, I don't think we ought to tell Rose or Hugo.'
Hermione glanced sharply at Ron. 'Why not? Don't you think they can handle it?'
Ron reached out and laid a hand on Hermione's arm. 'Think about it for a moment, would you? Do you want them to have that hanging over their heads, wondering when Neville comes to fetch them from class, or wake them up in their dormitory so he can Floo them home from McGonagall's office? Or spend their entire Christmas holiday waiting for it to happen?'
'They ought to know,' Hermione argued. 'So they can prepare themselves.'
Ron's hand convulsed over her arm. 'Why? Did all the preparation we had when we were that age make it easier? Merlin's sagging Y-fronts, Hermione, let them be children! Please... let them have what we didn't. Just this once...' Ron begged. 'This isn't about whether or not they can handle it. This is about letting them have a carefree Christmas. Without waiting for the other shoe to drop.'
'I was under the impression they were already waiting for that,' Hermione said wearily.
'That's different,' Ron pointed out. 'It's one thing for them to Jane's going to die eventually. It's another for them to know it's probably going to happen a lot sooner than they had imagined.' Ron paused for a moment. 'You sound like you've already decided.' Hermione remained silent, her normally animated face set into an expressionless mask. Ron's eyes closed briefly. 'I see...'
Hermione shook her head slowly. 'When Crookshanks became so ill he couldn't eat, much less drink anything, it was considered a kindness...' She abruptly stopped speaking and looked away. 'I ought to feel something,' she murmured. 'I ought to...'
Ron merely wrapped his arms around her. He didn't know what to say, nor was he sure there was anything he could say.
xxxxxx
Draco scowled at his dinner. He had been trying to make a conscious effort to actually try talking to Daphne instead of talking at her for the past few weeks. But it was like trying to speak Mermish, when he didn't know how to speak the language in the first place. He had to decide what to do during the holidays. It could take days for the Ministry to grant him permission to travel. It still galled Draco that he had to practically beg to be allowed to leave the country. 'So?' he ground out between clenched teeth.
Daphne glanced up from her plate. 'So...?' she responded coolly.
'What are you going to do with... this?'
Daphne's pale brow swept upward. 'Most people generally eat their meals,' she said quietly.
'I meant...' Draco's jaw clenched. 'Me.'
Daphne laid her fork down and picked up a glass of water. 'Ah.' She took a long sip, looking at Draco over the rim. 'Would it be worth it?' she finally said. 'By the time it's all said and done, Scorpius will be of age and it's not as if we have other children,' she said, with only a faint tang of bitterness.
Draco's lips pressed together in a thin line. 'I'll see to it that it goes through faster.'
Daphne nearly laughed. 'How?' She didn't have to say the Malfoy name no longer carried any sort of influence in the Ministry.
'I don't know! I'll... I'll pay someone.'
'That's no guarantee,' Daphne told him, implying the Malfoy gold no longer carried the influence it once did, either.
Draco picked up his water glass and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall behind Daphne, who merely blinked in response. 'Damn you, Daphne! I'm trying to give you a chance to get out of here! Why won't you take it?' Draco glared at his wife, sitting in aloof tranquility at the other end of the table. 'Or is this your revenge for Pansy?' he spat.
Daphne calmly pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. She gave Draco a faintly pitying look before she regally swept from the dining room. She managed to make it as far as the library before her knees gave out and she collapsed into a chair. There were a hundred reasons why she should accept Draco's offer. She wasn't sure if her stubborn insistence on staying in this travesty of a marriage was her reluctance to buck tradition -- even she had her limits -- or was Draco correct in surmising that her unwillingness to accept his offer was her way of subtly punishing him for his recent and past behavior.
She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled before pushing herself to standing. She crossed the library to her small desk and opened the drawer where she kept Scorpius' letters from Hogwarts. The Christmas holiday was to begin on the twenty-first, and if Draco wanted to spend the holiday in Nice, he needed to file the necessary paperwork with the Ministry no later than the sixth of December. That was still two weeks away. She tapped her fingers restlessly on the desk for several moments before picking up a quill. If Draco wasn't going to make plans, she would. Daphne took the scroll to her owl and waited for it to fly through the kitchen window, before searching for Draco.
She found him bundled in a thick cloak, sitting in the garden, oblivious to the cold wind buffeting him. 'Do whatever you want to do for the holidays,' she said. 'But Scorpius and I will be here.' Draco nodded once and Daphne turned on her heel to return to the house.
'I'm seeing someone,' Draco blurted, before he could stop himself. What else do I have to lose? I don't have anything left...
'And who is she this time?'
'Not a woman,' Draco muttered, his pale skin flushed. 'A man...'
Daphne felt her mouth drop open. 'Oh...'
'It's not like that,' Draco grumbled, running his hands through his hair. 'He's a Healer...' Damn, I'm making a total cock-up of this, too... Runs true to form, doesn't it? Haven't managed to do anything right since you were eleven, have you? Daphne stumbled backward to the French doors, groping blindly for the handle. Draco stood and grabbed her arm to steady her, dropping it quickly, as if he'd been burned. 'I'm not seeing him romantically,' he explained tightly. 'I'm not a homosexual. I thought that was glaringly obvious,' he added bitingly. 'I go see him to talk.'
Daphne thought she wouldn't feel anything, that it would be just one more empty moment between them. The small flare of hurt surprised her. 'What do you talk about?'
Draco's head shook slightly. 'Things... Just... things...'
'All right.' Shaken, Daphne managed to grab the door handle and open the door without tripping over her feet. She fled to the relative sanctuary of her bedroom, even more uncertain of what she wanted to do.
xxxxxx
Harry knocked on Carolina's office door. 'Hey, I need to ask you something.'
Carolina leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers behind her head. 'Shoot.'
'One of your Obliviators retired about two-and-a-half years ago...'
'Actually, I had about five of them retire,' Carolina interrupted. 'No... wait...' She mentally counted to herself. 'Six.'
'I need their names,' Harry said softly.
Carolina's eyes narrowed. 'Why?'
'It's one of them,' Harry said simply.
'No, it's not,' she hissed. 'It's not one of mine!'
Harry reached behind him and closed the door. Carolina was too much of a professional to lose her temper in front of the entire morning Obliviator shift, but he was accusing one of her department members of spearheading an incredibly heinous activity. 'It is.'
'It can't be! You're just... grasping at straws.'
'I'm not. One of them was a Legilimens and he knew enough to modify the memories of the people he used to torture Muggles so that it looked like it was something like a dream. Not erasing the memory completely, like an amateur would have done, and not removing the salient details like most other Obliviators. This one knew how to make it so that the person committing the crime could reasonably have dreamed about it.'
Carolina's eyes were wide in her pale face, the only splash of color otherwise. 'Three of the people that retired could use Legilimency to some degree,' she said hollowly. 'Every so often, we train a few Obliviators to use it, because some people's memories are resistant to modification. It takes a few tries, and we use Legilimency to check that the modification's been done.'
'Their names...' Carolina hesitated, then slowly pulled a piece of parchment toward her. She scribbled three names on it and pushed it across her desk. Harry picked it up and folded it between his fingers, stuffing it into the pocket of his trousers. 'Thank you.'
'When is Joel's trial?'
'Starts on the ninth. It shouldn't last more than a day or two. He's all but admitted his role in the whole process to the MLE investigators.'
'How... How long will his sentence be?'
Harry looked at Carolina sadly. 'You know that...'
Carolina's face crumpled a little and she nodded. Harry didn't have to tell her it was a mandatory life sentence for Kathleen's murder. Her jaw worked soundlessly and she struggled to maintain control. Harry knew. The ones you trained were like your children, and this amounted to no less than a total betrayal of everything you had taught them.
xxxxxx
'What do you zink?' Fleur held up a swatch of sparkling peach fabric.
'What am I supposed to think?' Victoire asked, her nose wrinkling.
'For Madeline's dress robes, of course!' Fleur sniffed indignantly.
'Why does Maddie need new dress robes?' Victoire asked blankly.
'For your wedding, bébé,' Fleur informed her daughter with a sigh. 'Madeline will be your maid of honor, will she not?'
'Mum, that's years away!' Victoire protested.
'It is never too early to start planning,' Fleur stated calmly.
Victoire set her quill down and propped her chin in her upturned hand. 'Mum,' she began patiently, 'Teddy and I won't want a big, frilly affair. Just the family, really, and that right there is quite enough to make the neighbors complain.'
Fleur's face grew stricken. 'Please tell me you are not zinking of doing zis in some drab, dreary Ministry office!'
Victoire sighed and picked up her quill. 'Mum, it's more than three years away. We haven't even really talked about the actual wedding. Because we haven't set a date. But I do know that he just wants a nice, quiet family do. And so do I.'
Fleur regretfully tucked the fabric into her work basket. 'Fine,' she grumbled. 'But "quiet" is not a term I would apply to ze family.'
Victoire laughed. 'I wouldn't either.'
'When was ze last time you saw Teddy?'
'When he came over and we fell asleep.' Fleur casually flicked her wand at Victoire's textbooks, sending them to the dresser across the kitchen from under Victoire's hands. 'Mum!' Victoire protested. 'I was studying!'
'And it is all you ever do anymore,' Fleur complained. 'Mon Dieu! Ze year before you fazzer and I were married, zere was a war starting, and your fazzer was always doing somezing for ze Order when he was not working, but we still managed to find time to be wiz each ozzer! Ze two of you have none of the pressures, and yet you still cannot find ze time to squeeze in five minutes for each ozzer.'
'This is different, Mum.' Victoire got to her feet and walked to the dresser, bypassing the stack of books, and reaching for plates and cutlery to set the table for dinner. 'Only the top three students of the year are allowed to even think about choosing their own apprenticeship. The others go where they're told... And I don't want to be one of those poor sods. I'll end up on the Magical Bugs floor,' Victoire huffed.
'What do you want to do?'
'Spell Damage,' Victoire said without missing a beat.
Fleur shook her head. 'You do not make life easy for yourself, do you?'
'Not especially.'
Fleur heard a muffled pop and glanced out of a kitchen window. Bill walked up the path, the wind coming off the sea sending his hair flying around his head. 'What shift does Teddy work zis week?'
'Mornings...'
'And you do not have a class or a practical shift tonight, yes?'
'No, nothing.'
'Zen go see Teddy.' When Victoire cast a doubtful eye toward her books, Fleur heaved a longsuffering sigh. 'And take zose infernal books wiz you, if you must.'
'Dad's not going to get shirty if I'm out too late, is he?' Victoire asked warily.
'Probably,' Fleur murmured, as the back door began to open. 'So try to be home before midnight?'
'Brilliant,' Victoire muttered under her breath. At least she didn't tell me to be home at ten, like she did when I was in school.
xxxxxx
Al leaned closer to the wireless, straining to hear the Montrose-Falmouth game in progress. Falmouth was up to their usual brutal style of play, scribbling notes about the tactics and strategies employed by both teams. The notes in Falmouth's column were predictably short -- bash the other team over the head repeatedly until they drop the Quaffle. Al looked down at the photograph of the current team in his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. The owner seemed to go for brawn over actual ability. He found it hard to believe they had actively attempted to recruit either Harry or Ginny. Having spent most of his life playing with or against one parent or the other, he knew looks were deceiving. Harry might not be what Al would term brawny, but Al had seen him swing from his broom handle one handed, and hoist himself back into place without breaking a sweat, all in the effort to catch the Snitch before Charlie did. Ginny once told Al that during her days with the Harpies, people tended to judge her skills based on her size. While it was true that she didn't have an enormous amount of muscle behind her goals, she did have an innate sense of timing and placement, something Al knew was invaluable, regardless of how well one could muscle a Quaffle through a goalpost. Part of his Quidditch class' ongoing assignment was to analyze how well a team had managed to adapt to their players' skills -- or lack thereof -- over the course of the season. He threw an irritated glance over his shoulder at the common room. The ruckus was getting so loud, he couldn't hear the game.
Lily had finally mastered the padlock she'd been practicing on all week and Jacob had challenged her to a race: who could pick the lock the fastest while blindfolded? After Lily won the first time, Jacob quickly challenged her to another go. The House was evenly divided between Lily and Jacob, with James standing uncertainly in the middle.
The announcer's voice cut through the commotion and Al sighed and shut the wireless off. He'd missed Montrose's Seeker catching the Snitch. He saw Scorpius extricate himself from the knot of people cheering Lily on and wind his way to where Al perched in the deep windowsill. 'Can I trade my family for yours?' he asked conversationally.
'I'd hardly call that a fair trade,' Al said, absently, finishing his notes. 'James and Lily for Geoffery?'
'If my father dropped off the face of the earth, I don't think anyone would notice,' Scorpius mused, as if Al hadn't spoken. 'Certainly Mother wouldn't. Not anymore. She's made plans for the holidays. Father won't be there. He's going to France. Mother says we're staying at home and I can come to your house after the first for the rest of the holiday.'
'I thought you wanted to see your grandmother over the holiday?' Al asked, puzzled.
'I do,' Scorpius said unhappily.
'Any word on the other thing?' Al asked, keeping his voice low, so as not to broadcast Scorpius' private business to the common room.
Scorpius shook his head. 'Oddly, no. She just tells me not to worry about it.' He examined the backs of his hands. 'But I think she's made up her mind to do it. I've never seen her take charge of things like this before.'
'Do you want them to...?' Al asked tentatively.
Scorpius snorted with ironic laughter. 'Not like anything would really change, would it? He'd still not be bothered with me.' His expression grew pensive and Scorpius stared into the fire across the room. 'But at least I wouldn't be trapped in the middle of whatever it is between my parents just now. It's not as if my father was particularly involved with me before I started school, but I wasn't made to feel as if I was choosing between either of my parents...' Scorpius slid off the windowsill and began to head for the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. He turned back to Al. 'Do you think...?' he began, but shook his head. 'Never mind...'
Al jumped off the windowsill, hastily gathering his things and running after Scorpius. 'What?'
Scorpius didn't say anything until he got into the third year boys' dormitory. He checked that it was empty and sat on his bed. 'It seems that running away from home is sort of a tradition... My grandmother had this cousin -- Sirius...? -- she said you'd know him...?'
'He was Dad's godfather. James is named for him.'
'Yeah. Well, when Sirius was sixteen, he ran away.' Scorpius clapped his hand over his mouth to stem the bubbles of hysterical laughter that rose to the surface. When he recovered, he managed to choke, 'To your great-grandparents' house. Your father's grandparents.'
Al frowned. 'What are you asking?'
Scorpius fell back into his bed. 'And Teddy's grandmother... She ran away from home, too. But Teddy says she was of age, so I'm not sure if it counts,' he mused, as if Al hadn't spoken. 'Funny, but nobody in my father's generation felt the need to do a bunk. But then again, he was the only one.' He sat up suddenly, looking at Al, wild-eyed. 'How would your parents feel about taking in a stray?' he asked, grinning crookedly.
Al's mouth dropped open. 'You mean right now?' he gasped.
Scorpius shook his head. 'Not now, no... But if I needed a place...?'
Al nodded wordlessly. 'Just tell me when.'
FIFTY FOUR -- Awakening
Hermione rubbed her gritty eyes, the tiny print of the enormous book in front of her beginning to swim and blur. 'Some things never really change, do they?'
Hermione's hands fell away from her face, and she blinked rapidly, clearing her vision. The figure leaning against the door frame coalesced into a tall, thin, woman, with a great deal of straggly blonde hair. Her slightly protuberant eyes were still dreamy, in spite of the shadows under them. 'Luna!' Hermione felt her face lift into a smile. 'How are you?'
Luna grinned and dropped into a chair. 'Exhausted. I've heard all of you talk for ages about it, and I should have paid more attention to you. But they're lovely, the boys.' She reached into her bag and pulled out a photograph. 'They look just like Rolf,' she said, holding it out to Hermione. A bit of the dreaminess vanished and Luna's gaze sharpened as she examined Hermione. 'You've looked better yourself,' she said with her characteristic bluntness.
'I'm fine,' Hermione murmured.
'That's not what I hear.' Luna wound her hair into a careless knot and jabbed her wand through it. 'You've completely stopped mentioning your mother in your letters, and Ginny's last letter said your mum was ill.'
'She is.'
'How ill is she? Ginny wouldn't say.'
'Dying and forgetting everyone and everything.' Hermione kept her answers terse. It kept other people from gratuitous displays of pity.
'Hmmm.' Luna slouched a little in the chair. She seemed to look through Hermione. 'And you're not terribly upset by the idea of your mum dying,' she stated.
Hermione's shoulders sagged a little. 'I could ask them to delay the inevitable, but I'm not. It's almost like someone's put Full Body-Bind curse on her mind. She doesn't remember me and barely remembers Ron, Rose, and Hugo. She forgot Dad died ages ago. I don't think she remembers how to read. And they have to bathe her, because if left to her own devices, she'll run the bath, but won't remember she hasn't actually gotten in it.' She gave Luna a wry, twisted smile. 'I'm a horrible person, aren't I?'
Luna shook her head. 'No, you're not. Just because someone can breathe and move around, it doesn't mean they're alive.'
'Mum's nothing like an Inferi,' Hermione objected.
'Of course she's not,' Luna said calmly. 'But the way you describe it, it's not as if she has any sort of life.' She paused for just a moment. 'I think you're more bothered by the fact you're not as upset as you think you should be.'
Hermione let her head fall to rest on her folded arms. She wasn't sure if she ought to laugh or cry, but she felt an insurmountable relief at being able to finally admit it out loud to someone. 'Yes...' She took several deep breaths, then lifted her head. 'How do you do that?' she asked.
Luna's head tilted slightly to one side, as she took in Hermione. 'It's a gift,' Luna said with a smile. 'But you said goodbye to your mother a long time ago, I think. You're just waiting now.' She leaned forward a bit. 'If you were truly upset, there would be a fortress of books on your desk right now, and not just one.'
Hermione tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. 'Am I that transparent?'
'Oh, to people who know you. You always spent more time in the library at school if you were having a disagreement with Ron or Harry.' Luna motioned to Hermione's bag. 'And it's not even four in the afternoon, and you're ready to go home.' She shrugged. 'Mere observation.'
Hermione nodded and shifted the topic of conversation. 'I thought you weren't coming back to England until next summer.'
'We weren't, but Rolf finished his research early, and we thought we'd come home in time for the holidays. Try to find somewhere to live. We're staying with Daddy for the time being. Rolf and I decided to live in England full time, until the boys start Hogwarts. It was difficult enough just to get them here and I can't imagine trekking with them all over the world on research trips. When they're a bit older, we'll take them on short trips with us.'
Hermione felt her brows shoot up in surprise. 'What are you going to do in the meantime?'
'Revise Fantastic Beasts,' Luna replied promptly. 'That ought to take a good while. Rolf is somewhat attached to it. But it needs to be done. Hasn't been updated in years... Get with Dean to make an illustrated children's version of it. I'm not sure why it hasn't been done before.'
'Probably because some of the more dangerous creatures would frighten children,' Hermione said dryly.
'We'd leave out acromantulas,' Luna chuckled. 'And perhaps werewolves, but dragons will stay in.'
Hermione snorted. 'Hagrid would be very upset if you only have X and XX classified creatures in it.'
Luna nodded. 'Perhaps nobody will show him the book,' she said. 'After all, I've never told Daddy that Stubby Boardman wasn't Sirius Black...'
xxxxxx
Draco picked up the squashy ball from the table as he dropped into the chair. 'I told her... My wife. I told her about you.'
'How did it go?' Andrew flicked his wand and a glass of water appeared at Draco's elbow.
'She thought I was having an affair,' Draco muttered, fingers wrapped around the ball.
'That's a rather large leap to make,' Andrew observed.
'It wasn't,' Draco corrected. 'She's cognizant of my prior...' His mouth quirked in a moue of distaste. 'Indiscretions.'
Andrew frowned a little. 'Do you have a mistress now?'
'No. I severed that particular connection before I married Daphne.' Draco rolled the ball between his fingers. 'But Pansy made an unannounced visit to my mother's house last summer,' he murmured. 'First time I've been alone with her since a few days before my wedding fifteen years ago.'
'What is Pansy like?'
'She reminds me of my aunt Bellatrix,' Draco admitted, his lip curling. 'Now, at any rate. Didn't see it until I saw her last August, actually.' He picked up the glass of water and took a long sip. 'She's pretty, I suppose, if you like overblown women. Brittle. Tries too hard. She had her hands in my trousers, when a simple inquiry would have sufficed.'
'Did you like that?'
'Let's just say she didn't get much of a rise out of me,' Draco sighed.
'Did you want her to?'
'Sort of.' Draco began to methodically squeeze the ball. 'I don't like to let people touch me...' he stammered. 'Not since I got the...' He gestured to his left forearm. 'And Pansy wasn't one for the niceties associated with sex. She was strictly a shag and go kind of woman. But that evening, if she was touching me, then I wasn't invisible.' Draco gulped more water. 'No, not invisible -- that's not the right word,' he corrected himself. 'Irrelevant.'
'Why do you think you're irrelevant?' Andrew let his pen still.
Draco let his eyes close. 'I'm not needed. My wife manages our son quite well without me. My mother doesn't need me for anything. When my father died, by the time I woke up the next morning, Mother and Daphne had already completed the arrangements between the two of them. And Daphne... she takes care of everything else. I'm just there.'
Andrew's eyes narrowed, as he contemplated Draco. 'Have you ever tried to do more than just be there?'
Draco shook his head. 'Why bother? I'll make a mess out of things, just like I always have.'
'That can't be true,' Andrew said. 'There must be something in your life you've done well.'
Draco looked down at the rug under his feet. 'Nothing.'
'And not even now?'
'No.'
Andrew set his notebook down and rested his elbows on his knees. 'The more you think you're a complete and utter failure at life, the greater the chance it will happen.'
'It always happens with me,' Draco muttered.
Andrew glanced at the small hourglass and stifled a sigh. 'Right. Time's up... But I'd like you to do something before you come back next time.'
'What?' Draco asked suspiciously.
'I want you to tell me one thing you can do, and do well.' Andrew managed to hide the grin playing around his mouth at the look of sheer terror on his patient's face. 'And you can do this. Nobody is absolute rubbish at everything they do. Not even you.'
xxxxxx
James stabbed at beef medallion on his plate and stuffed it whole into his mouth, ignoring his father's ostentatious throat-clearing meant to be hints. He swallowed with no small difficulty and reached for his glass of milk. 'Can I take Maya to see a film next week?'
Harry glanced at Ginny over the rims of his glasses. 'And where will you be doing this?' he asked idly, cutting his sprouts into small pieces.
'I was thinking London,' James said casually, a delicate flush coloring his cheeks.
'London, huh?' Ginny murmured. She shared another wordless look with Harry, then shook her head. 'Not until we meet Maya's parents.'
'You're joking!' James spluttered.
Harry gazed at Ginny thoughtfully, his brows knit. 'No... We've told jokes before, and, hang on... No, that was definitely not a joke.'
'There's a game in Falmouth next Friday,' Ginny mused. 'They're playing Appleby. We can all go to the game and stop by her parents' pub beforehand and meet them then,' she pronounced. 'You can bring Maya to the game, if -- if -- it's quite all right with her parents.'
'And there's no way we're going to let you run about London by yourself,' Harry told James. 'You're barely fifteen.'
'I won't be alone,' James retorted. 'Maya will be with me.'
'You'll go with Teddy,' Harry ordered. 'And if he can't go, your mum or I will go with you.'
James gasped, his mouth falling open, working soundlessly like a fish. 'That's... I...'
'That's the deal, James,' Ginny said. 'Teddy doesn't have to see the same film you do, but you're not to try and distract him so you can slip away. I will make sure that you don't see the right side of a broom until June if you do that.'
'Can she really do that?' Lily whispered to Al.
All shrugged. 'I'm not sure, but I don't want to be the one that finds out,' he replied.
'Fine...' James muttered, molding his mound of mashed potatoes into peaks.
'Make sure you owl Maya by Monday, so her parents know to expect us before the game.' Harry reached over and ruffled James' hair. 'Don't worry about it,' he said. 'We'll save the bare bum baby photos for later.'
'That does not make me feel better,' James mumbled into his potatoes. He pushed his plate away. 'May I be excused...?'
'But you've hardly touched your dinner,' Ginny objected.
'I'm not hungry,' James muttered sullenly. He shoved his chair away from the table, and carried his plate to the sink, all but dropping the plate into it.
Harry waited until James' footsteps on the staircase faded, then turned to Lily. 'Don't even think about asking to do that until you're forty,' he informed her just as James' bedroom door slammed shut.
Lily's eyes widened, and her face paled. Her head whipped around to Ginny so fast, the end of her plait smacked Al in the nose. 'Really, Mum?' she said fearfully.
'No, Lily,' Ginny sighed. 'That was a joke. But you're not going out alone until you're of age.' She eyed Al, calmly eating his dinner. 'Do you have anything you'd like to add to the discussion?' she asked.
Al contemplated the bowl of sprouts in front of him, and shook his head. 'No, I'm all right.'
'Brilliant,' Harry muttered. 'When is Scorpius getting here?'
'Ought to be here by lunchtime on Thursday,' Al said. He ran the tines of his fork through his potatoes for a moment. 'He, erm... Said something sort of odd before we came back...' Neither Harry, nor Ginny said anything, but waited expectantly. Al poked at his sprouts for a moment. 'He wondered if he... could stay here... if... he...' Al trailed off, looking miserable. 'If he ran away from home,' he muttered.
Al saw his parents exchange another silent look, and wondered how they could have an entire conversation without saying a word. 'Al,' Ginny began gently. 'Is Scorpius planning on running away?'
Al gazed at first his mother, then father, and shrugged. 'Not now. As far as I know...'
'Would he tell you?' Harry asked.
Al shifted uncomfortably in his chair and shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. 'I think so,' he admitted, swallowing. 'I hope so.'
Harry heaved a sigh, remembering his pledge of nearly a year ago to Ginny. 'He can stay with us,' he said quietly. 'But you'll have to understand if we at least owl his mother to let her know he's all right.'
'You don't sound very happy about it,' Al said to his plate.
Harry laid his fork down, and gently tipped Al's face up with an index finger. 'Everybody needs a place to run away to from home. Especially if things become unbearable. It will be fine.'
Ginny waited a few minutes, allowing the underlying tension to dissipate. 'Do you have any homework for the holiday?'
Lily nodded. 'Binns is making us write eight inches of parchment on the goblin rebellion of 1612,' she piped up, relieved that conversation had returned to something resembling normal.
'Is he still making you lot do that assignment?' Ginny snorted incredulously.
'I did it,' Al offered. 'My first year.'
'So did I,' Harry grumbled.
'It's a rite of passage,' Ginny said, with a smile.
'So is catching up on your sleep during Binns' class,' Harry added, ruefully. 'What about you, Al?'
'Essay on hinkypunks, and read the chapter dealing with werewolves.' He ate a few sprouts. 'Can I sit in the scouts' box on Friday? I need to add another team to my research for my Quidditch class.'
'You don't want to sit with us in the press box?' Ginny asked.
'No offense, Mum, but you lot talk too much,' Al grumbled. 'Can't hear the announcer because someone's yammering about who Aiden Lynch tried to feel up last month. And can I just say "ewww"? There are enough disgusting things in the universe without thinking about Aiden Lynch's hand up some lady's shirt. He's ancient!'
'He's got a point, Gin,' Harry told her, Summoning an apple crumble, and dishing it into bowls that he handed round the table. 'I've often wondered how you managed to write anything about the game.'
Ginny poured tea into a cup and glared at Harry over the rim as she sipped it. 'We happen to be talking about the game,' she retorted.
'I didn't think Aiden Lynch played anymore,' Lily interjected in bemusement.
'He doesn't,' Harry said. 'He hasn't played since before James was born. Had a roving hand then, too.' This time, the look he sent Ginny, made Al and Lily give each other confused looks of their own.
Al coughed a little, trying to regain his parents' attention. 'So do I have to have someone sit in the scouts' box with me?' he asked, his voice loud to his own ears.
Harry blinked, breaking eye contact with Ginny, his ears slightly pink. 'Yeah. I'll go with you. Get a chance to actually watch the game for once,' he said teasingly.
Lily, who had been determinedly working her way through her meal, suddenly spoke. 'Why do we have to have someone with us all the time? We've never had that before... We used to run all over the Harpies' stadium before, when Mum took us to games... Couldn't do anything, without someone running off and yakking to Mum.'
The next look Harry and Ginny gave each other held a note of worry. 'It's just now you're capable of getting into so much more trouble,' Ginny said lightly. 'Now that you have wands.'
Lily's round eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she didn't argue. She had a feeling it wouldn't end well for her.
xxxxxx
Harry rolled his sleeves down and buttoned the cuffs as he walked up the stairs after dinner. James' bedroom door was still firmly shut. He opened the door with a tap of his wand. 'Mind if I have a word?'
James was lying on his bed, glaring at the ceiling. 'You're going to talk to me whether I want you to or not.'
'I'm going to let that bit of attitude slide,' Harry said dryly, grabbing the chair from James' desk. He straddled it, folding his arms across the back. 'It's not that your mum and I don't trust you,' he said awkwardly. 'It's just that you're barely fifteen. And I know your mum and I have given you a great deal of latitude before, so I'm sure it feels like we're smothering you.' Harry paused, and took a deep breath. 'How much do you know about girls?' he blurted, in a strangled voice.
'I know where babies come from, if that's what you're asking,' James huffed.
'Well, actually, I was more interested in if you knew how to keep that from happening.'
James shrugged. 'I got the basics in primary school the last year I was there.'
'Right...' Harry rearranged his arms. 'First of all, you're too young to be shagging anyone, unless you're taking matters into your own hands, and in that case, you ought to clean up afterwards...'
James' face erupted into a flaming blush. 'Erm... Yeah... Learned that one at school,' he muttered. 'In the dormitory...'
'Of course,' Harry choked, feeling a blush creep up his own face. 'So anyway... You're too young to... well, you know... And if you're too young, your mum and I are definitely far too young to be grandparents. But at some point, and probably sooner than I would want, you're going to, and I'll sleep better if I know you know how to protect yourself and your girl... '
'All right...' James muttered warily.
Harry took a deep breath. 'First of all, there is a charm. They don't teach it at school, and it's not very effective, because you need to cast it right before... And well, if you're not really concentrating on it, it doesn't work very well...'
One of James' brows rose slowly. 'Is that how...?' he asked, making a gesture that encompassed his bedroom, and Al and Lily's as well.
'No,' Harry replied quickly. 'But it is how your grandparents had your uncles Percy, George, Fred, Ron, and your mum.'
James' face scrunched in disgust. 'Ew.'
'I'll teach you the incantation later,' Harry promised. 'There are also Muggle methods that do work quite well, but you have to use them every time.'
'And sex is supposed to be something that's fun?'
'That's what they say,' Harry said dryly. He waved his wand and a banana floated between them then pulled a small, foil-wrapped square from his pocket. 'This is a condom...'
xxxxxx
James repressed the urge to wipe his hands down his jeans. After several attempts, Harry was finally satisfied that he could put the condom on the banana. James poked at the now-bare banana with a cautious forefinger. 'Erm... You're not going to expect anyone to eat that, are you?' he asked. 'You'll Vanish it, right?'
Harry took in James' green face and obligingly jabbed his wand at the much-abused piece of fruit. It disappeared. 'Listen, Jemmy... Nothing is one hundred percent effective. Well, aside from not doing anything in the first place.' A brief vision of Ron and Lavender from their sixth year flashed through Harry's brain. 'And try to do this with someone you really like, and aren't just using to get someone else's attention.'
James nodded, feeling slightly queasy. 'Are we done...?'
'Yeah. And if you have questions...'
James nodded. 'Yeah.'
Harry squeezed James' shoulder. 'If it makes you more comfortable, you can talk to Teddy.'
'Okay,' James said faintly, still looking as if he was going to throw up. He slid across his bed, his back resting against the wall. 'Night, Dad...'
Harry got up and replaced the chair at the desk. 'Good night, Jemmy.' He reached across the bed and brushed his fingers over James' head, then left, feeling as if he had just shredded the last remnants of James' childhood. 'Happy-bloody-Christmas,' he muttered to himself.
FIFTY FIVE -- Expectations
22 December 2019
Dear Maya,
My mum and dad say I can take you to a film next week, but we have to go with Teddy. Mum and Dad seem to think we need a chaperone, although why, I'm not sure. But that's the only way we're going to be able to go out. And you'd better hope that Teddy's available, because otherwise, we're going to end up double-dating with my parents. Please don't hold it against me...
Also, Mum and Dad want to meet your parents Friday. Try not to hold that against me, either... The excuse for being in Falmouth Friday is ostensibly because we're going to the Falmouth-Appleby game. We are going, really. And Mum says if it's okay with your mum and dad, you can come with us. We're going to sit in the press box. So we'll be well supervised...
Owl me back and let me know if all that's all right.
James
xxxxxx
Harry shuffled into the kitchen, massaging his stiff left shoulder. It didn't bother him most of the time, but it had gotten much colder overnight and he'd discovered cold and damp weather made the healed injury ache. He stopped short at the sight of James sitting at the table, his flannel-clad knees drawn up into his chest. Harry continued into the kitchen, commenting, 'You're up early. Usually we have to pry you out of bed for breakfast.'
'Couldn't sleep,' James mumbled, his hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate. He ran his hands through his messy hair several times. 'Dad, can I ask you something?'
Harry began to rummage through cupboards preparatory to making breakfast. 'Sure.'
James picked up a banana from the bowl in the center of the table and peeled it slowly, unaware of the irony of choosing that particular piece of fruit. 'Why did you tell me all that stuff last night?'
Harry measured milk and oats into a pan for porridge and sighed. 'I told you. Your mum and I don't want to be grandparents any time soon.'
'Yeah, but if nothing works all the time, why go through all that?'
Harry stilled and James thought he heard one of his father's more pungent curses. Harry opened a drawer and patted blindly for a moment. He dropped a Sickle into a nearly-full jar, and turned around, leaning against the counter. 'Because it's better than using nothing,' he told James.
'How do you know?' James muttered, taking a bite of his banana.
'Because that's how you got here,' Harry snorted. James' mouth fell open, revealing half-chewed banana. 'Close your mouth, son,' Harry chuckled. Embarrassed, James' mouth snapped shut. 'And I know that condoms don't always work because that's how Al and Lily got here...' He turned back to the stove, flicking his wand at a spoon, sending it to stir the porridge.
'I think I'm going to be sick...' James murmured.
Harry dropped into the chair next to James'. 'If you think this is bad, you should have heard the talk your granddad gave to your uncle Ron and me.' James' mouth crimped and he paled slightly. 'After he told us about the contraceptive charm, he said something along the lines of, "Think with your heads, boys, not your willies." We managed to wait until he'd left before we started gagging.'
'I think I might prefer that,' James grumbled darkly.
'Well, all right, then,' Harry said cheerfully. 'Think with your head, son, and not your willie.'
'Thanks, Dad.'
Harry patted James on the back. 'Any time.'
xxxxxx
At lunch, James sat between Fred and Jacob, his dark head bookended by their bright red ones. 'You don't look so good,' Fred observed.
Jacob peered at James. 'Look like you're going to be sick,' he added. 'Are you sick?' he asked worriedly. 'Because if you are, I don't want to catch it. No offense, mate.'
James shook his head. 'No. I'm all right. It's just that the only way Maya and I will get to go out is if we double up with Teddy or Mum and Dad.'
'Merlin, I hope Teddy's not working the evening or overnight shift next week, mate,' Jacob commiserated.
'Too right,' Fred added. 'But James, that doesn't quite explain why you haven't looked at either Aunt Ginny or Uncle Harry since you got here.' He stabbed at a parsnip and gestured down the long table. 'Aunt Ginny was talking to you and you couldn't even look at her in the face.'
'Oh, so go join the Aurors already will you?' James grumbled. 'Bloody...' He ladled gravy over his potatoes and pork chops. 'Dad had the "talk" with me last night...'
'Ugh!' Fred and Jacob gagged in unison.
'Sorry there, mate,' Jacob murmured, as if James were ill and instead of the warm, bustling kitchen of the Burrow, they were in a hushed hospital room at St. Mungo's, patting him sympathetically on the back.
'Mum did that with us right before school started,' Fred mused. He shuddered visibly. 'Put me off thinking about doing anything with Ellie Richmond.'
'Isn't Ellie in Hufflepuff?' Jacob asked over James' head.
'Yeah.'
'Hmmmm.' Jacob examined his twin appraisingly.
'What's that supposed to mean?' Fred huffed.
Jacob shrugged. 'Just never pegged you for the safe type. Thought you'd go the dangerous route, like our good cousin here, and go for a girl in Slytherin or maybe Ravenclaw.'
James' head snapped up. 'Maya's not dangerous,' he growled.
'She is in Slytherin,' Fred pointed out. 'That means she's got a dark and twisty side.'
'So how detailed did Uncle Harry get with you last night?' Jacob persisted.
'Detailed enough,' James hissed, face flaming.
Jacob and Fred exchanged identical grins behind James. 'Yep,' Jacob pronounced. 'It was for your own good, then. Everyone knows girls from Slytherin...'
'Everyone knows what?' James snapped, his voice low and dangerous. The conversation at the children's end of the table died off.
Jacob shifted uncomfortably. 'It's just that girls from Slytherin don't have the best reputation...' James glared at Jacob for several tense moments before he shoved away from the table so violently, even the adults noticed. James darted from the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Harry started to rise from his chair, but Ginny laid a hand on his arm.
'I'll go...' Ginny climbed the stairs, all the way up to the attic. It had been James' refuge when Harry was injured last summer. Her instincts proved to be right, when she found James huddled on Ron's old bed. 'Want to tell me what that was about?'
'Not really.' James tried to burrow into the wall.
'All right.' Ginny sat on the bed next to James and gazed out the small window. 'I always thought Ron was the luckiest sod in the family having this room,' she said. 'My room... Every one had to pass by it to get downstairs or get upstairs.' A faint clanging sound drifted from the space above. 'Well, the ghoul isn't much of a selling point, but the privacy Ron had most of the time was quite nice.'
'D'you have a point, Mum?'
'It gets really crowded in this family sometimes,' Ginny told him. 'Everyone's got an opinion about what you do or say. And they say it. Whether you want to hear it or not.'
'Tell me something I don't know,' James spat.
'Sometimes you need to hear the opinions. If nothing else, than to tell you what you're going to face from people who don't know you as well.'
James' hands clenched into fists. 'They said... that Maya...'
'Jemmy, you can't control who you fall in love with. And I trust your judgment.'
'You do?' James blurted, surprised.
'Well, as far as Maya's concerned. Your dad and I have met her...' Ginny brushed James' hair out of his eyes. 'Girls from Slytherin have always had somewhat dodgy reputations. Well, at least when I was there. Mostly because of one person in particular. She was quite...'
'Randy?' James supplied.
'You could say that,' Ginny sighed. 'And I don't even want to know where you picked up that particular word.' She pulled James into a sideways hug, mindful he was feeling prickly about being hugged by either her or Harry these days. 'And I'll have a word with Fred and Jacob about spreading rumors.'
'Don't,' James begged. 'I don't want anyone to say anything about it...'
Ginny bit her lip, but nodded. 'I can't promise that your aunt Katie or uncle George won't talk to the twins, though.' She slid off the bed and looked down at James. 'Want the rest of your lunch?' James shook his head. 'I'll just leave a plate for you in the kitchen, then, if you want it later.' Ginny started to leave the attic, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. 'Oh, I understand you and Maya put on quite the display in Hogsmeade.'
James' eyes grew round. 'How did you know about that...?'
Ginny laughed and patted her son's cheek. 'The Harpies were having their Christmas party at the Three Broomsticks in one of the upstairs rooms. They saw you through the window. Gwenog came by the Prophet office a few days later, and wanted to know if I knew what my oldest sprog was up to.'
'I'm never going to be able to kiss a girl ever again...'
'Well, not in public, anyway.' Ginny grinned at James, then left the room.
James flopped back against the mattress, flinging an arm over his eyes. He drifted off, his sleep filled with half-formed dreams and images he couldn't remember later, even if he'd wanted to. Hunger pangs prodded him awake after a few hours, and James emerged from the attic, cross and groggy. He slipped into the empty kitchen, in search of the plate Ginny had promised him and was greeted by an odd, muffled silence. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and through a small window set in the scullery door, glimpsed George standing in front of Fred and Jacob, gesticulating wildly. The Silencing charm his uncle had undoubtedly cast on the scullery wasn't able to withstand the verbal onslaught George poured forth on his sons.
George was livid. As soon as Ginny returned and whisked James' untouched plate from the table, covering it with a clean serviette, he glared at Fred and Jacob, making them both wilt a little. They both managed to avoid him, by darting into the back garden for a boisterous snowball fight, sledding, a game of Quidditch, until at last they could no longer evade George's simmering wrath. 'He's supposed to be able to count on you!' George yelled, face going redder and redder. 'Haven't either of you two idiots ever met the girl you're so busy disparaging at the table?' He was met by a wall of silence. 'Well? Haven't you?'
'Yeah...' Jacob admitted grudgingly.
'And has she ever given either of you -- or anyone in the family for that matter -- the impression she's no better than some... some... randy tart?'
'No...' Fred whispered, his chin nearly against his chest, his head hung so low.
'Look at me when I'm speaking to you!' George demanded, making Fred's head jerk upright.
'Slytherins aren't nearly as nasty as they were when I was your age,' George huffed, feeling the blood pound inside his ears, even his mangled one. 'Taking the mickey out of James for dating a girl -- fine! Taking the mickey out of him for what House she's in is unacceptable.'
'But, Dad,' Jacob began hesitantly, 'you always tell Uncle Percy he ought to have been Sorted into Slytherin... And you've been taking the mickey out of him for Parker being Sorted into Hufflepuff for ages...' he finished sullenly.
'But I'm also not spreading vicious gossip about Percy or Parker. You just hit James below the belt, and if he doesn't want to talk to you after the two of you apologize, then you'll just have to live with it, won't you?' The twins nodded, their faces shuttered in matching expressionless masks. 'I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that.'
'Yes, sir,' Fred and Jacob chimed darkly.
xxxxxx
'Don't you think we've gone a bit overboard?' Neville asked Hannah.
Hannah fashioned a bow from the ribbon she had wrapped around a brightly-wrapped package. She looked at the pile of gifts under their tree and the gaily decorated sitting room. 'Oh, no more than everyone else did when their babies had their first Christmas.'
Neville bounced Eric lightly on his knee, making the boy giggle gleefully. 'Erm, Hannah, I hate to break it to you, but this isn't Eric's first Christmas...'
Hannah shrugged. 'I know, but it's his first Christmas with us. And his first birthday with us will be next winter...'
Eric grunted, wriggling from Neville's grip. He slid down Neville's shins until he was balanced on the floor. Eric toddled toward Hannah, his eyes fixed on the tree, one hand outstretched toward the sparkling decorations and fairy lights. 'No, Eric...' Hannah slid an arm around Eric's waist, anchoring him to the spot. She grabbed her wand and flicked it at the tree, sending the more delicate items to the branches out of Eric's reach. She flinched at the sound of an imperious knock she had come to dread. Hannah's lips clamped shut, suppressing the curse that rose to them. It would be her luck that Eric would merrily repeat anything she said when the Ministry witch was there.
Neville repressed a sigh and opened the door. 'Miss Rodding,' he murmured.
'Hello!' Cary trilled. She strode into the flat, followed by a green-robed Healer, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall on their heels. 'I've brought Healer Patterson to give Eric a complete medical evaluation.'
'And then I shall do my own examination!' Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. 'I've been submitting weekly reports to your office ever since Eric arrived here, and suddenly they're not good enough!'
'Now, then Poppy,' McGonagall began, 'let's let this... witch... do her job, and we'll do ours.'
The Healer gave Neville and Hannah an embarrassed shrug and held out her arms for Eric. Hannah reluctantly handed him to her, and Healer Patterson began to croon softly, while she waved her wand over the boy's head. Too many symbols and words floated over Eric's head, glowing with soft green light, before the witch flicked her wand at them, and they flew to a file Cary held. 'He seems to be in excellent health, Mrs. Longbottom,' she told Hannah quietly. Eric babbled and patted Patterson's face with both hands. 'And happy as well.' She made as if to hand Eric over to Madam Pomfrey. 'If it's quite all right with you?' she asked Hannah. Hannah nodded and Madam Pomfrey repeated the process, then set Eric on the ground so he could make his unsteady way to Neville, who squatted on the ground, with his arms held out.
Cary pursed her lips and took in the sitting room. She made an indeterminate noise and jotted a few notes on her clipboard. 'You will ensure that the smaller items are moved out of Eric's reach?'
McGonagall snorted. 'Unless the boy grows two feet overnight, Miss Rodding, I don't think he's going to reach anything.' She jabbed her wand at the door and it swung open. 'After you,' she said to Cary, whose brows knit briefly, but she swept from the room.
Healer Patterson waited until Cary's footsteps faded. 'It wasn't my idea to come here. I keep telling her that the spells Madam Pomfrey uses cannot produce fabricated results, but I believe she's going to bring me with her every so often, just as a second opinion.'
Hannah began to laugh. 'Fine! Bloody fine! We haven't anything to hide. Let her throw whatever she can at us. I'm not letting her ruin my holiday with Eric.'
'That's the spirit,' McGonagall murmured. 'We'll see you at lunch on Wednesday in the Great Hall?' She tickled Eric under his chin, her face split into a wide grin unaware of the looks of shocked disbelief Neville and Hannah sent her. 'There ought to be enough students staying on this year who will be more than willing to let the two of you eat a meal in peace, while they dote on young Mr. Zhao.'
'Thank you, Prof---er, Minerva...' Neville said softly.
'It's lovely to have a baby around,' Madam Pomfrey said. 'Especially during the holidays.'
Loud throat-clearing from the end of corridor made Healer Patterson, Madam Pomfrey, and McGonagall's shoulders hitch toward their ears irritably. They sailed down the corridor, clucking amongst themselves in a manner that reminded Neville of the chickens that Molly Weasley kept at the Burrow. He shook his head and closed the door to his quarters. 'On the first day of Christmas...' he sang to himself.
xxxxxx
The holidays turned the pub into a madhouse and as a result Francesca Hytner was in somewhat of a tizzy. So when an unfamiliar screech owl fluttered into the pub with a letter addressed to Maya, she barely noticed. Until she took the letter from the owl, with a distracted murmur of thanks. As she offered the owl water, Francesca glanced absently at the sender's name and her eyes widened. 'Maya!' she shouted. 'You've got a letter!'
Maya pattered down the stairs, shifting an armload of towels to one side. She picked up the letter from the counter and smiled.
Francesca stood in the middle of the kitchen, directing various pots and pans in a complex dance of cookery, while managing to send stacks of plates and bundles of cutlery around the kitchen with the deft touch of an orchestra conductor. 'Is that really from the Potter boy?' she asked wearily.
Maya nodded. 'Yeah.'
Francesca blinked once. 'Harry Potter's eldest boy...?'
'Yeah. So?' Maya ran her thumb under the seal and pulled out the single sheet of parchment. She scanned it quickly, her straight brows arching in surprise. 'Oh, bloody hell,' she sighed. 'His mum and dad want to come meet you. And Dad.'
Francesca paused in the middle of the steamy, hot kitchen, pushing her hair from her face. 'Whatever for?'
Maya shoved the parchment back into the envelope and tucked it into her pocket. 'He wants to take me to see a film... I think that's what it's called... And his parents want you meet you before.' She scooped up the pile of towels and headed back up the stairs. 'And we won't be alone, either,' she added.
'Did he tell you when they were coming?'
'Friday.'
'But that's the Appleby game!' Francesca gasped. 'It's going to be insane!' She turned back to the dinner on the stove muttering grumpily, 'Must be nice for some people... Haven't any consideration for anyone else.'
Maya angrily tossed the towels to the floor. 'They're not like that!' she protested. 'They've never asked anyone to treat them any differently than other people.'
'According to them,' Francesca sniffed.
'Would you expect them to sit up all night in a chair next to their kid's bed, like everyone else?' Maya snorted. 'I've seen that myself. They're normal!'
'Pick the towels up,' Francesca sighed.
Maya stood on the step, glaring at her mother, then turned around and stalked up the stairs, without saying a word.
'Maya! Come back and pick up those towels!'
Maya's only reply was to slam the door to their small living quarters.
Francesca bent to pick up the pile of towels, her jaw clenched. She strode to the scullery and threw them onto the pile already there. More work. It never stopped. And now she was going to have to play the gracious hostess to Harry Potter and his privileged family. It made her head hurt. She'd been amused initially, when Maya talked about her budding friendship with a Chaser from an opposing House's team, but when word reached her that Maya was often in the company of Harry Potter's son, she became worried. How would their blunt, decidedly unfrilly Maya fit into the pampered life of the child of celebrities? She was bound to be hurt in the process. And furthermore, Maya had been Sorted into Slytherin, while the Potters were Gryffindors through and through. Francesca was more than aware of what people said about women who had been in Slytherin, and unfortunately for all of them, the example Pansy Parkinson displayed on the society pages of the Daily Prophet put all of them in a bad light. Francesca didn't see any of it ending well for Maya.
xxxxxx
Al arranged the pillows behind his head and propped himself up against them. 'How was it at home?'
Scorpius leaned against the wall, hugging his pillow to his chest. 'Just like always,' he told Al. 'Mother was great and Grandmother sent tickets for a Montrose game for next summer. She preferred to stay in Nice this year. Didn't want to fuss with Portkeys to just stay here for a few days. Mother promised me we'd go there when school's done or Grandmother will come here.'
'And your father...?'
Scorpius shrugged. 'Just like always. Locked away in his study for hours at a time. Doesn't talk to me. You know. The usual.'
'Barrel of monkeys, then.'
'Yeah.'
Al smoothed the bedding over his bent knees. 'Listen, mate, I told my mum and dad about you needing somewhere to stay...'
Scorpius' face showed shock for several moments, then he managed to stammer, 'I'm not planning on doing a bunk next July.'
'I know, but whenever you need it -- if you need it -- you can stay here, no questions.' Al rolled the edge of his sheet between his fingers. 'So what's going on with Lily?'
'What makes you think I know?'
'Because she talks to you, and she won't talk to James or me. She's gone all weird and secretive. Learning how to pick locks the Muggle way...'
'I don't know,' Scorpius admitted. 'Well, I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete. It's not dangerous. I think. I don't think it's just a phase, either...' He took a deep breath, unsure of whether or not to reveal his theory to Al. It felt as if he was betraying Lily. But he didn't want Al to worry needlessly. 'She's just trying a few things out. So she can decide what she wants to study,' he said finally.
'But why would she need to know how to pick a lock?' Al asked, perplexed.
Scorpius rubbed his forehead. 'Right... I don't want to say,' he said reluctantly. 'Because you and James might try to talk her out of it, even though I'm pretty sure Lily doesn't pay a whit of attention to a word you say.' He fiddled with the toe of his sock, picking at the beginnings of a hole. 'Just think... What could Lily possibly want to do where she might need to learn how to get out of sticky situations where magic might not be a good idea?'
Al's brows knit together and as realization dawned, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. 'Mum and Dad will go spare!'
Scorpius nodded. 'And that's why you need to keep it quiet.' He threw the pillow to the head of the camp bed and flopped down. 'I hate keeping all these secrets... That's why my family's gone barmy.'
Al sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. 'I don't know,' he said doubtfully. 'Your family was barmy way before that.' He was rewarded with a ghost of a smile from his friend. 'But as far as Lily goes... Better to ask forgiveness than permission, eh?'
'Something like that.' Scorpius slid down in the bed, pulling the bedding over his shoulders. 'So why are we going to Falmouth, exactly?'
Al began to snicker. 'The cover story is that we're going to see the game. But really, we're going just to meet Maya's parents.'
'The parental seal of approval, hmmm?'
Al snorted. 'Not really. As long as you've been coming here, you still think my parents would judge anyone by who the rest of their family is?'
Scorpius rolled to his side to face Al on the other side of the room. 'No, I don't suppose they do... It just seems like such an odd charade for them to go through.'
Al shrugged with one shoulder. 'I think it's more so Maya's parents can meet Mum and Dad to be honest. Just to reassure them that Mum and Dad are completely normal...'
'Could you define, "normal", Mr. Potter?' Scorpius retorted in an excellent imitation of Professor Trentham.
Al's eyes closed as he considered Scorpius' question. They popped open, wide green pools in the dim light of the lamp next to his bed. 'When you're just as mad as everyone else.'
xxxxxx
Maya wrung her hands nervously, pacing. The pub had emptied of most of its customers several minutes ago, and she was waiting for James and the rest of his family to arrive. Her mother leaned against the long bar that ran down one side of the room, warily watching the door. Maya flipped her hair over her shoulder and resumed her anxious vigil near the door. She had heard her parents the past few nights in whispered discussions, but had angrily dismissed them, figuring they were merely trying to figure out how to avoid allowing her to go to the game with James and his family or out with him next week.
The door opened, bringing in a swirl of cold wind and snow. She could hear Al making soft catcalls behind James, earning a firm smack on the back of the head from Harry. 'Sorry,' Harry said apologetically to Francesca, then turning to Al and eyeing him beadily. 'Normally he behaves as if he's been in public before.'
Francesca twisted a towel in her hands. 'We were expecting you earlier,' she began uncertainly.
Ginny stepped forward, extending a hand to Francesca. 'Hello. I'm Ginny, James' mother. And I thought you had owled Maya to tell her what time we were coming...' she added, giving James a look similar to the one Harry had just given Al.
'I... erm... I did...'
'Did you tell her we'd be here at six-forty-five or did you say we'd be here before the game started?' Harry sighed.
'Erm...' James' cheeks, already pink from the cold wind outside, reddened even more in embarrassment. 'Before the game,' he mumbled.
'It helps if you give people details, Jemmy,' Ginny told him. 'I figured this would be a good time to stop by,' Ginny said to Francesca. 'I remember when I lived at the pub in Holyhead, most of the patrons there for the game cleared out around a half-hour before the first whistle.'
Francesca grasped Ginny's hand in hers, surprised at the calluses on Ginny's fingers. 'It's nice to meet you,' she stammered. 'Maya speaks very highly of you.'
'Maya's a lovely girl,' Ginny said.
Hugh, Maya's father, limped into the front room from a private parlor, where he'd been clearing the remains of Bernard Calhoun's dinner party that he routinely held before a Falmouth home game. 'Oh, hello.'
'Dad, this is James Potter, and his parents, Harry and Ginny Potter,' Maya said in an undertone.
'Ah, well then.' Hugh held out a hand to Harry unthinkingly. Harry appeared startled momentarily, but took the older man's hand in his, giving it a firm shake.
'Pleasure to meet you,' Harry murmured.
'We'd love to take Maya to the Falmouth game with us, if it's all right with you.' Ginny was saying to Francesca.
'If it's not a bother,' Francesca said reluctantly.
'No bother at all,' Ginny said blithely. 'If the game's running long, and you want her home by a certain time, one of us can bring her back, too.'
'Eleven is fine,' Hugh said to Ginny. 'Go get your things, Maya,' Hugh said. Maya didn't need further prompting. She dashed up to their quarters and tumbled down the stairs, pulling her coat over her arms.
'I'm ready,' she panted.
Hugh hooked his wasted left hand through Maya's elbow. 'Now then, I want you to be on your best behavior, mind. You're a guest,' he said into her ear.
Maya began to roll her eyes, but a warning nudge from Hugh stopped her. 'Yes, sir,' she mumbled. 'Bye, Dad. Mum.' It was with relief that Maya followed the Potter family out of the pub.
James eyed her for a moment, as they trudged to the Falcons' stadium. 'So what happened to your dad's hand...?'
'Last wizarding war,' Maya supplied. 'He was caught helping smuggle Muggle-borns out of the country by a Death Eater. He wasn't sure what the spell was they used, but there wasn't anything the Healers could do after. He couldn't go to St. Mungo's until it was all over and by then it was too late, anyway.'
James felt his stomach lurch, as memories of what his own father faced during the last war raced through his brain. 'I'm sorry,' he said sincerely.
Maya shrugged. 'He's learned to handle things quite well. He doesn't feel sorry for himself. Or at least not anymore.' She grinned slyly. 'So... Jemmy...'
James blushed. 'It's what my mum and dad used to call me when I was small. They don't do it very often,' he coughed.
'It's cute. I think I might start calling you that.' Maya laughed when James pulled a face. 'So, do my parents pass muster?'
James reached for Maya's hand. 'I could ask you the same question. Your mum seemed positively... Uncomfortable.'
'She wasn't too chuffed about your lot coming here,' admitted Maya. 'She... Well it doesn't matter what she said.'
'Let me guess,' James began. 'She thought there would be a great deal of fanfare and Mum and Dad would make lots of unreasonable demands, as befitting the Auror Head and the Quidditch editor of the Prophet.' Maya nodded, unwilling to look James in the face, and tried to pull her hand out of his. James tightened his fingers around hers, refusing to let go. 'Loads of people who don't know Mum or Dad very well tend to think that at first. Makes Dad crazy. He wants people to think he's just like everyone else. And he is,' James added quickly. 'Just with a slightly interesting history.'
'That's one way to put it,' Maya said wryly. 'Your whole family has a slightly interesting history.'
James shrugged. 'Would it help if I told you the summer after my second year, Dad made Al and me clean out our tool shed and paint the broom shed, just because I had to tease Lily? Or that the summer before Al's first year, we drew on Dad's face while he was asleep on the sofa with markers? He went to work with a butterfly on his forehead for three days. Mum reads these Muggle novels that are so ridiculous she hides them behind the towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. Every year for Christmas, she knits us a matching hat, scarf, and set of mittens.' He pointed to the boy walking between Al and Lily. 'Scorpius, too. Has for the last three years.'
'My mum doesn't mean anything by it,' Maya said, a little defensively. 'It's just that you're...' She hesitated, frowning. 'You're the son of the man who saved the wizarding world, the youngest Auror ever, and arguably one of the best Chasers to play the game, if she hadn't quit at her peak, and I'm the daughter of two people who keep a pub...'
James began to laugh. 'I'm sorry,' he gasped. 'It's not funny, but really... Both my parents grew up with nothing. None of it matters. I really like you, Maya. And my mum seems to like you.'
'Oi!' Al called from a side door of the Falcons' stadium. Ginny talked easily with the wizard at the press entrance, stuffing her credentials back into her bag. 'Come on! The game's about to start!'
'And then there are some whose world revolves around Quidditch,' James muttered.
'Does Al know girls exist? Or does he fly the other way, do you think?' Maya murmured.
James gazed at the back of his brother's head. 'I don't think so... About flying the other way... And I'm not sure he knows girls exist yet.'
'And I'd like to keep it that way for a while,' Ginny commented from behind them. She reached up and patted James' cheek. 'You're growing up so quickly...'
FIFTY SIX -- Doomed to Repeat
Draco curled in the window seat of his bedroom, like he had as a small child and stared out into the garden behind the house. Something I'm good at... he mused. He'd spent days trying to figure out the answer to the task Andrew had set him, going as far back as his earliest memories of trying to win his father's approval. Frustrated, he slammed a fist against the wall. It was impossible.
Grunting, he flung himself out of the window seat and yanked his clothes off, throwing them into a heap in the corner for Perri to collect in the morning. He jerked on his pajamas, making sure the sleeves covered his arms and fell into a disgruntled heap into bed. Draco grabbed one of the numerous pillows piled against the headboard of his bed and clutched it to his chest. He let himself think for a moment, what he might have been like if he'd been brought up the way Daphne had insisted on doing with Scorpius. Draco plopped the pillow over his face, hoping it would block out the insidious thoughts that reinforced his belief that his son was much better off without him.
xxxxxx
'You will perform the Cruciatus curse on him, Draco.'
Draco stood over huddled figure, his wand trained on its back, hesitating.
'You will do it, Draco. He's a traitor.'
The voice made Draco's skin crawl, but the oddly snake-like features of the face truly terrified him. The figure lifted its head, and Draco's fingers twitched around his wand. Scorpius' face was pale and drawn in the shadowy light of the fire.
The wand dropped from Draco's nerveless fingers, clattering loudly on the parquet floor. 'No...'
'You dare defy my orders?' Voldemort snarled, his voice rising in pitch, until it sounded like fingernails scraping with excruciating slowness over a chalkboard. 'CRUCIO!'
It was pain like nothing else Draco had ever known. 'Ahhhhhh!' His body convulsed in agony. He opened his eyes, barely able to make out Scorpius, frozen in horror. 'Run,' he gasped, before a fresh wave of pain flowed over him.
xxxxxx
'Draco!' Daphne shook him roughly. She contemplated slapping him, but decided against it, and continued to shake him until he woke with a sharp gasp.
'Where is he?'
'Who?'
'Scorpius...' Draco pulled the duvet up to his chin. He couldn't stop shivering.
'He's staying with a friend for the rest of the holiday.' Daphne began to walk out of the bedroom. 'Remember?'
'Stay,' Draco said suddenly. 'Just for a minute... Please...?'
Daphne paused for a moment and nearly walked through the door, but she perched uneasily in one of the armchairs in a corner of room. 'I was coming back up from the library, and you started screaming.' She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her dressing gown.
'I was dreaming...'
'Obviously.'
'He was making me use an Unforgivable on... on Scorpius...' Draco swallowed. His mouth felt like it had been lined in cotton wool. 'I couldn't do it...'
Daphne pulled her feet into the seat of the chair, wrapping her arms around her knees. 'I was under the impression you didn't care what happened to him one way or the other.'
'Is that what you think?' Draco breathed.
'When was the last time you asked about him? Or showed this much interest in him?' Daphne responded tartly. She set her feet on the floor and stood up. 'Good night, Draco.'
xxxxxx
Harry wearily shoved a file into his desk and pulled out the last one for the day. Draco peered around the edge of the door, before the rest of him followed. 'I'm early,' he stated.
'I know,' Harry said, writing a note in Draco's file. 'Sit down,' he added, indicating the chair with his quill, while he rummaged in a drawer for a vial of Veritaserum and set the vial on the desk.
Draco picked it up with a sigh and picked at the wax seal around the cork in the neck of the vial. 'What's he like?'
Harry glanced up at Draco over the rims of his glasses. 'Who?'
'Scorpius,' Draco said, nearly mouthing the word he spoke so softly.
'Oh.' Harry sat back in his chair and set the quill down on the desk. 'He's bright and intelligent. Earns good marks in his classes. Considerate. Gets on well with the others in his House --'
'In other words, everything I'm not,' Draco interrupted bitterly.
'Why don't we get started?' Harry suggested, motioning to the vial, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had turned. After Draco downed the potion, he ran through his usual list of questions for Draco, checking his wand, scribbling down Draco's responses in his file. He closed it, and was in the process of replacing it in his desk and locking the drawer when Draco spoke again.
'I'm rubbish at everything,' he said sadly.
'I wouldn't go that far,' Harry stammered.
'No,' Draco stubbornly maintained, as one who'd had too much to drink. 'Nothing I did was ever good enough, don't you see?' Harry was tempted to try and convince Draco he didn't really mean it, but just because he was under the influence of Veritaserum, it didn't mean he'd lost his senses along with his inhibitions. 'That Healer I've been going to see -- and I know you know about him because my watchdogs tell you everything -- I'm supposed to tell him something I'm good at, and I've been thinking and thinking about it for almost a month now. And nothing.'
Harry's brow furrowed in concern. In all the years he'd been interviewing Draco, he'd never volunteered more information that Harry had asked for. He turned his quill over with his fingers, smudging them with ink. 'You were able to block out Snape with Occlumency,' he said tentatively. 'I had lessons with him, and it wasn't easy.'
'It's easier when you don't have an emotional attachment to the person you're trying to block,' Draco blurted. 'I'm surprised he didn't tell you that, bloody sadist.'
'There's something...'
Draco blew a loud raspberry. 'Oh, hurrah,' he drawled. 'I'm brilliant at something I haven't done in over twenty years.' He looked furtively around the spartan office. 'Do you still dream about the Dark Lord?'
'Voldemort?' The quill dropped from Harry startled fingers. 'Sometimes,' he admitted. 'Not as much as I used to. Couple times a year, if that.'
Draco blinked rapidly, the mental gates slamming shut. 'Then you're lucky,' he said quietly. 'It's been so long, but even now, his hold on people...' He took a deep breath and started to stand, but stayed in the chair. 'He's going to be a better man than me, isn't he?'
'Better than both of us,' Harry said ruefully, not needing to ask who Draco was talking about. He stuffed his paperwork into his bag and grabbed his coat. 'Come on, I'll walk with you to the lifts.'
Draco stood stiffly. 'I'm not a child, Potter,' he grumbled. 'I can find my own way to the lifts.'
Harry shrugged noncommittally. 'I have to leave anyway, and either I, or that rather large MLE bloke standing outside my office will escort you to the lifts and to the visitor's exit. At least if it's me, it's not like you're a common criminal.'
Draco looked as if he was ready to vomit. 'This is no better than being part of his inner circle.'
Harry's lips twitched in amusement. 'Perhaps, but at least we won't kill you.'
xxxxxx
Draco slouched in the armchair, automatically picking up the squishy ball. 'You were wrong,' he told Andrew.
'Was I? In what way?'
Draco rhythmically squeezed the ball between his fingers. 'This is why I hated self-reflection when I was younger,' he began. 'I am rubbish at everything.'
'Draco, nobody is rubbish at everything.'
'I am,' Draco insisted. 'I spent more time making excuses, whinging, or trying to puff myself up than actual studying in school.'
'Is that so, then? Right. Tell me about what N.E.W.T. level subjects you took.'
Draco's jaw clenched momentarily. 'Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense, Arithmancy, and Charms.'
'Hm. If I recall correctly, at that time, in order to take those subjects at the N.E.W.T. level, one had to earn at least an Exceeds Expectations on the O.W.L.'
'So?'
'And Severus Snape taught Potions at the time, and he didn't allow anyone to take his N.E.W.T. Potions class with anything less than an Outstanding. And neither did Professor Vector.'
'Fat lot of good it did me,' Draco scoffed. 'It wasn't good enough for him.'
'Good enough for who?'
'My father.' Draco tossed the squishy ball up lightly, catching in deftly in his hand. 'The one time he came to see me play Quidditch, we lost. Granted, it was to Potter and his team, and they were quite good,' he admitted grudgingly. 'It was total disaster. The bloody Snitch was right there,' he reminisced. 'He was clearly disappointed. Left immediately after.' He set the ball down on the table. 'All went rather downhill from there.'
'Why did it matter to you so much what your father thought?'
'It's stupid.'
'No, it's not.'
Draco sighed heavily and glared at the ceiling. 'I wanted him to pay attention to me. And not just lecture me about proper behavior or castigate me for my failings.' His eyes closed. 'After the war, he stopped lecturing me. Just told me all the things I'd done wrong, when he talked to me at all. Funny... I was happier when he stopped talking.'
'Why do you think that is? I mean, you spend your entire life, all but gagging for him to notice you, and when he finally just stops talking to or lecturing you, that's what makes you -- to use your words -- happy.'
'Just one less voice telling me what an utter failure I was. It was almost a relief when he stopped talking to me.'
'Where was your mother in all this?'
'Mother? She was there. I mean, she saw to my education before I went to Hogwarts, but we didn't actually talk about much of anything. I don't remember her making any sorts of decisions about things until my father was imprisoned after my fifth year of school. And after the war, she was the only one of us who wasn't given a stiff penalty for our activities. Father just sort of withdrew into himself after his trial was over. Mother was the one that made the decision for them to move to France about a year after that.
'Although there was the one time before I started school... Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but Mother protested. I don't know how she got him to change his mind...'
'Why Durmstrang?'
'Who knows?' Draco said with a shrug. 'Because they used to teach the Dark Arts, perhaps. Maybe he wanted to groom me to take his place one day when...' Draco visibly braced himself. 'Voldemort came back. At the opposite end of the spectrum, maybe he wanted me elsewhere. In case I proved to be an embarrassment to the family and I could easily be kept away from England.'
'What was your parents' marriage like?' Andrew asked curiously.
'Father made decisions and Mother basically did what he said, until everything got turned upside down and Mother had to step in to fill the void. She did quite well, all things considered. Out of the three of us, she's emerged as unscathed as she could possibly be. They had separate bedrooms, but a lot of couples in arranged marriages do,' Draco explained. 'It was a match of obligation. There wasn't much love to be lost between the two of them. And I doubt she ever really respected him. It was odd, after the war to see her asserting herself, doing the things he used to do. It was like she was an entirely different person. Maybe that's who she was all along...'
xxxxxx
Narcissa paid the baker for the baguette and tucked it into the basket swinging from her arm. She turned and meandered through the maze of stalls in the market, pausing here and there to examine vegetables, or freshly-caught fish.
The solitude of her existence didn't bother her as much as she had thought it would. After living more than half her life doing what other people expected her to do, Narcissa had stepped into the role vacated by Lucius' abdication and subsequent affair with the liquor bottle, with an ease that had surprised her. And once Lucius was dead, she reveled in the freedom she then had to do as she pleased, unfettered by the rules and regulations imposed on him by the Ministry. She stopped to inspect an aubergine, lifting it in her hands when a flash of movement caught the corner of her eye. Narcissa whipped around. 'Lavinia?' The aubergine dropped to the cobblestones from her lax fingers. She began to walk toward the woman, at a sedate, "correct" pace at first, then broke into a run. 'Lavinia! Livvy! Wait...' The woman disappeared around a corner, and Narcissa followed her, dodging other shoppers, but she had all but melted into the crowded square.
Her head bowed, Narcissa trudged back to the vegetable stall. The merchant held the bruised aubergine, looking indignant. She reached out and plucked it from his hands, placing it in her basket. 'Je suis désolée. I'm terribly sorry...' She placed a few coins in his hand, gazing uncertainly around the marketplace, teeming with people. 'I'm going mad...' she murmured to herself.
She quickly made her way back to her villa and threw the basket into the kitchen, Vanishing its contents with a careless wave of her wand. Without bothering to ask herself why, Narcissa darted into her bedroom, and threw some clothing into a bag. The next thing she knew, she found herself queuing up in the line at the International Portkey terminal. 'London,' she told the witch behind the counter. The witch handed her a small ticket, and after paying an exorbitant amount of gold for it, Narcissa strode to the end of the corridor.
'Portkey for London! 11:42 Portkey to London!' cried a voice.
She jostled for a place next to a broken umbrella and laid a finger on it, seconds before it began to glow.
xxxxxx
Andromeda ushered Narcissa into the house. 'I didn't know you were coming!' she exclaimed. 'Scorpius said at Christmas you meant to stay in Nice until the summer.'
Narcissa stared at her for a moment, then blurted, 'I think I've gone mad.'
Andromeda burst into peals of laughter, as she hung her sister's cloak on a hook by the door. 'Oh, good Lord, what makes you think that?'
'I'm seeing someone.'
'It's about time you did something good for yourself,' Andromeda said dryly. 'Is he typically French and terribly suave and urbane?' she sighed, batting her eyelashes.
'I don't mean that!' Narcissa huffed, flustered. 'I mean I'm seeing people who aren't there!'
Andromeda beckoned for Narcissa to follow, and led her to the kitchen. 'Are you certain it's not just people Disapparating? You do live in a magical neighborhood...'
'Yes, I'm quite certain it wasn't Apparition. I'm going mad.' Narcissa sat back in her chair and glared at her sister. 'It does run in the family, you know.'
'Oh for Merlin's sake,' Andromeda laughed, flicking her wand at the teapot. 'If you were insane at all, we'd have known long ago.'
'That's not true! Bellatrix wasn't bonkers until after she broke out of prison,' Narcissa pointed out.
'Bellatrix Black Lestrange was a psychopath the moment she was born,' Andromeda corrected. 'When you were three or four, she managed to get her hands on our mother's wand and tried to hex you because you had blonde hair and didn't fit in with the rest of us. Prison just made it more obvious.' She poured each of them a cup of tea and began to sip hers. 'What makes you think you're seeing people?'
Narcissa cradled her cup between her palms. 'Do you remember Lucius' older sister?'
'Vaguely. She was five years or so ahead of me in school, and I didn't exactly mingle with your social circle after I left home.'
'When Draco was about a year old, she just... disappeared.'
'Maybe she did a bunk, like I did.'
Narcissa shook her head. 'I don't think so.'
'Why not? It's not impossible.'
Narcissa eyed Andromeda as she set her cup down. 'She didn't have her wand,' she said simply as if that explained everything. 'Do you really think she'd have been content to live as a Muggle?'
'Stranger things have happened.'
'True... Lucius said I wasn't to ever mention her again. From that point onward, it was like... Lavinia... never existed.'
'What did she do? Fall for a Muggle-born?' Andromeda asked sarcastically.
'No. Worse. She fell for one of the Prewett twins.' Narcissa picked up a spoon and idly stirred sugar into her tea. 'Fabian, to be precise.'
Andromeda frowned slightly. 'When did she leave?'
Narcissa felt vaguely sick. 'She left the same day Gideon and Fabian Prewett were killed.'
Andromeda felt a finger of dread trail down her spine. 'You don't think...?' she whispered, horrified.
Narcissa nodded slowly. 'I do.'
'But wouldn't she have been found?'
'Not if Lucius didn't want her to be found.'
Andromeda bit her lip, then ventured, 'Do you want to try and find out what happened to her?'
Narcissa laughed bitterly. 'And how do you presume to do that?'
'Harry. He can find out if there was any sort of investigation into Lavinia's disappearance.'
'Harry Potter already knows too many of my family's secrets,' Narcissa maintained.
'So what's one more?'
xxxxxx
Draco stood outside Daphne's bedroom door, hand raised, ready to knock. Instead, his hand flattened on the door and his head slowly lowered until his forehead rested against it. 'I don't know any other way,' he said softly. 'I don't know another way to be.'
On the other side of the door, Daphne's eyes narrowed and she slid out of bed, stealing lightly across the floor. She leaned closer to the door, trying to catch the low murmur on the other side.
'I wish I could just start over. Let it all go. I was raised to believe that this was the only way to live. That blood status was the only thing that mattered. That sons were supposed to do as their fathers did. I wasn't able to do that, and my father never forgave me for humiliating the family name. When Scorpius was born, he said it was my chance to make amends. To raise the perfect son. And I couldn't even manage that.
'Bringing a child into this... life... was unthinkable for me. How could I mold my son into what my father wanted, when it wasn't... I didn't want to put him through what I had to live. But I had to try. I had to prove to my father I wasn't a colossal disgrace.
'It didn't work out that way, did it? I wanted him to be better than me, but this isn't what I had in mind. I thought if I let you be more involved with Scorpius when he was younger, he would be that ideal son like my father wanted. You were in Slytherin and pureblood, just like I was, so of course it would help.
'I knew. I knew when he was small that he wasn't going to conform to what my father -- and I -- wanted him to be. And I blamed you, because it was easier than thinking that my way wasn't the best course for Scorpius. And when he started school and ended up in Gryffindor, best friends with Potter's son, I was angry. Angry at myself, angry at you, and Scorpius. It took me a long time to stop being so angry. It took months after my father died to realize I didn't have to try and live up to his expectations any longer. And by then, I figured the more I stayed away from Scorpius, the better he was. Why should I risk cocking up his life even more than it already is?'
Draco waited, nearly holding his breath, half-hoping Daphne had heard him, but almost sure she hadn't. After a minute had ticked by, he pushed off the firmly closed door and trudged down the corridor.
Daphne's hand dropped to the doorknob. She carefully opened it, peering through a narrow crack, but the only thing she saw was the hem of Draco's dressing gown as he stumbled into his own bedroom.
xxxxxx
Narcissa stood in the lifts, her hands knotted together nervously. When the doors parted, she took a deep breath, and stepped off, her head held high, looking for all the world as if she was the current Minister of Magic. It made her laugh a little to herself. She supposed it was the one thing she had managed to teach Draco. She'd seen him behave like this often enough after the war. It was how he managed to get through his trial without breaking down publicly. She strode through the maze of cubicles, heading for Harry's office at the end.
The door was partially open, but Narcissa knocked quietly on the dark wood. Harry glanced up from the file on his desk. If he was surprised, it didn't show on his face. 'If you want to see Scorpius, he's at the house with Ginny,' Harry said.
'That's not why I'm here,' Narcissa began. 'I need to locate someone...'
'Erm... That's more of MLE's area of expertise...'
'Not this time,' Narcissa insisted. 'Because it involves Lucius.'
Harry slowly closed the file, and pulled a clean sheet of parchment toward him. 'Go on.'
Narcissa sat in one of the chairs across from Harry's desk, her hands in a death grip on her handbag. 'Lucius had a sister. She's been missing since just before Voldemort tried to kill you.'
Harry sighed and set this quill down. 'Mrs. Malfoy, do you know how many people have never been found from that period?'
'I do.'
'Then you'll know that we may never find out what happened to...?' Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.
'Lavinia. And I know...'
Harry nodded and picked up the quill once more. 'Is this very urgent?'
'I've waited this long, I suppose I can wait a bit longer.'
'It's just I have a case that's wrapping up soon, and I want to oversee this personally. Now, what can you tell me about Lavinia?'
xxxxxx
A/N: "Aubergine" is an eggplant in the US.
For more on Lavinia Malfoy's story, read 'Somewhere'.
FIFTY SEVEN -- Navigating Maturity
Harry pushed bowls of porridge across the table to the three boys on the other side. 'Where's Lily?' he asked.
Al shrugged. 'Said she didn't feel well. Mum's checking on her.'
'She seemed all right yesterday,' Harry mused.
James snorted into his orange juice. 'Hardly. She ate an entire box of Chocolate Frogs after you and Mum went to bed.'
Al nodded in agreement. 'Yeah, when I went to ask if she was coming down any time soon, she was a little sniffly.'
'That's odd...' Harry set his tea down and ran lightly up the stairs. Ginny was sitting on the edge of Lily's bed, smoothing her hair away from her face.
'Are you sure?' Ginny asked their daughter, concern etched on her face. Lily nodded, curling into a tighter ball. 'All right. I shouldn't be too long with the boys in Diagon Alley. Your dad will be here in case you need something.' She cupped Lily's face in her hands. 'Want some breakfast on a tray, then?' Lily shook her head emphatically.
'I'm not hungry...'
Ginny looked as if she might argue with her, but merely straightened the bedding and tucked it around Lily, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She left Lily's room, and tilted her head toward the stairs when she saw Harry. 'Is she okay?' Harry asked. 'She never gets sick...'
'She's not running a fever, but she says her stomach hurts,' Ginny told him, guiding Harry away from Lily's bedroom. 'She wants to be left alone, just like you when you're ill.'
'James said she might have overdone it on the Chocolate Frogs last night.'
'That could be it,' Ginny agreed. She glanced over her shoulder at Lily's partially closed bedroom door. 'You don't think it could be...?'
'What?' Harry asked blankly.
'Well, she is getting to be that age.'
'What age?'
'Getting older, maturing...' Ginny prompted. She then added in exasperation at Harry's continued mystified expression, 'Her period.'
'Isn't she too young for that?' Harry hissed, scandalized.
'She's not much younger than I was,' Ginny said with a nonchalant shrug.
'And how old were you?'
'A few months before my twelfth birthday. Right after we got out of school after my first year.' She grinned a little. 'I was a right moody bint most of that summer.'
'Does she know what to do if it is that?' Harry asked, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation.
'Yes, she does, and what she'll need is in the cupboard in our bathroom. The top shelf.'
'Brilliant,' Harry muttered darkly.
Ginny patted his shoulder in sympathy. 'You knew this was coming eventually.'
'So, what time is Teddy supposed to be here for James?' Harry asked abruptly changing the subject.
'Eleven. They're going to Floo to Falmouth and pick up Maya, go to London, have lunch, see whatever film James has picked out, then Maya's going to have dinner here with us, and you or I will take her home.'
'And you'll be back when?'
'Oh, who knows?' Ginny sighed. 'I imagine the crowd of people wanting Krum to sign his book will be quite substantial. Hopefully, it won't take too long. But it's going to be like Lockhart all over again... Loads of middle-aged witches throwing their knickers at him,' she grumbled.
Harry shuddered, imagining the size of some of those knickers. 'Couldn't you have had one sent to you, rather than dealing with the madness? I just don't see the point of standing in that line for hours, waiting for some surly git to sign the overpriced book he wrote,' Harry pointed out, as they walked into the kitchen.
'Because it's fun!' Al protested. 'And Dad, Krum's won ten European Cups in a row and three World Cups!'
Harry shot a Warming charm at his now-cold breakfast. 'More than any other Seeker in history,' he added in a weary tone of voice. 'We know.'
'He's coming to the school this spring!' Al said excitedly. 'Madam Pimm's having him come teach a few of the flying lessons in the Quidditch class.'
Scorpius gagged into his porridge. 'Urk. Every girl in fourth year and up will end up following him all over the school.' He scraped the sides of the bowl with his spoon. 'I don't see why they're fawning all over him. Most of them don't even follow Quidditch.'
'Some girls consider him quite good-looking,' Ginny commented.
'Are they blind?' James spluttered. 'He looks like a bad-tempered duck.'
'Some things never change,' Harry muttered.
xxxxxx
Harry sat behind his desk, absently reading the files of the retired Obliviators he'd taken from the Ministry. He didn't have so much as a name to guide him. Teddy couldn't remember the Obliviators' names, and Joel Anderson had managed to modify his own memory before he'd attempted to murder Dudley and Aaron, rendering Veritaserum and Legilimency useless. All three of the Obliviators currently under suspicion had been highly respected in their department and skilled in Legilimency. Even their pasts were clean. After the war, every Ministry employee was carefully vetted and questioned and all three of them had come through the investigations with flying colors. He'd scoured their employment files, going back decades, and yet, they each had solid yearly evaluations with no complaints from their department heads. Harry didn't like to arbitrarily take people in for questioning, but he figured he might have to resort to it this time. And rather than risk tipping his hand, he'd have to approach each of them separately, and resort to using Hermione's rather unorthodox method of swearing them to secrecy.
He pushed his chair away from the desk. It was too quiet in the house, especially with the boys and Ginny away. Lily could often be heard singing or humming to herself, even if she were the only other person in the house, besides one or both of her parents. He knew Lily really must not feel well if she was so quiet. Even when she'd had dragon pox, she'd chattered nonstop to her stuffed bunny. Harry wandered up the stairs to check on Lily, and as he peered around the edge of her bedroom door, a cry of dismay echoed from the bathroom. 'Lily?' Harry knocked on the door. 'Are you okay?'
'Is Mum gone?' Lily's voice quavered through the door.
'Yeah, she left a couple of hours ago,' Harry told her. 'Is there something I can do?'
'No!' Lily nearly shouted. 'I want Mum!'
'I'll see what I can do...' Harry stammered. He stumbled down the stairs and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. 'Hermione! Please be home...'
'Harry? Everything all right?' Ron asked, dropping to his knees.
'Is Hermione home?' Harry asked. 'Ginny's out with Al and Scorpius, and Lily needs... Well, she needs another girl...'
'No. She's gone to visit her mother.'
And idea struck Harry. 'What about Molly?' he asked, desperation evident on his face.
Ron sat back on his heels. 'Not today, Harry...' He glanced down at his hands. 'It's her brothers' birthday. Feels it a bit keenly this time of year.'
'Yeah...'
'Why didn't Gin stay at home with Lily and you take the boys into Diagon Alley?'
'Needed to get some work done on that Muggle-baiting case. I haven't been in the office much since the kids came home for the holiday.'
'What's wrong with Lily?'
'I'd rather not say,' Harry muttered, his face flaming. 'It's a girl sort of thing...'
'Ah. I see. I haven't any other girls here to help out,' Ron said apologetically. 'Rosie's down in Diagon Alley getting Krum's book with Katie, Fred, and Jacob,' he added with mild distaste.
'Them, too?' Harry blurted incredulously. 'Bloody hell, you'd think he did something big, like save the wizarding world,' he scoffed.
'Well, three World Cups rank pretty high up there,' Ron teased. 'Right below, "defeated seriously Dark wizard".' He sobered slightly. 'Sorry, mate. Wish I could help, but I'm probably more squeamish about that girl sort of thing than you are... What did Gin tell you to do about it?'
'She said Lily would know what to do, but Lily's not in the mood to talk to me and I'm not any help. Hence the need for a girl.'
Ron heaved a gusty sigh. 'Sorry, mate.'
'Right. Wish me luck, and if you don't see me or Lily at lunch Sunday, it's because we've died of a severe case of mortification...' Harry pulled his head from the fire and for several moments lay sprawled on his stomach on the hearth rug. All right, Potter, you've been in far stickier situations. She's not even half-trained -- what's the worst she can do to you? Flick sparks at you? Harry pushed himself to his feet, and trudged up the stairs turning into his bedroom at the top of the stairs. He winced, as he reached up into the top shelf of the cupboard, at the lurid pink box silently mocking his cowardice. He held it between his thumb and first two fingers, feeling immensely grateful toward Ginny, that she'd never made him actually go out and buy the things. He had a feeling he would have had to purchase several crosshead screwdrivers, a few spanners, some footballs, and at least one magazine featuring women in skimpy clothes draped over motorbikes, just to surround the ultra-feminine box he carried gingerly down the corridor as if it might explode if he jiggled it too much.
Harry dropped it outside the bathroom, and mindful of Ginny's past experiences, detoured into Lily's room and opened the bureau, feeling as if he was snooping through her things. It wasn't as if he'd never laid out clothes for Lily before, and doing the laundry was something he and Ginny had often split between them. 'You used to dress her, for Merlin's sake,' Harry muttered to himself. He grabbed a pair of clean pajamas, and closing his eyes, clean knickers. He returned to the bathroom door and knocked softly. 'Lily...? I've left some things for you outside the door.' He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. 'Lily, did you hear me?'
'I heard you, Dad,' came Lily's tight voice through the door.
Harry's feet shuffled awkwardly on the floor. 'All right, well, if you need anything, I'll be downstairs in the office,' he said lamely.
The door opened the merest crack, and one of Lily's wide brown eyes peered through it. 'Could you make some hot chocolate, Dad?' she asked hesitantly.
'Yeah, sure,' Harry said quickly, flooded with relief at something -- finally! -- he could do. He clattered down the stairs into the kitchen and set two large mugs on the counter, filling them with milk and adding chocolate to them, heating them with a tap of his wand. By the time he had completed the task, he could hear the rustle of Lily's pajamas at the door. Harry glanced at her as he carried the mugs to the table. Lily hung back in uncharacteristic bashfulness, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.
'You're not going to tell a bunch of people are you?' she asked, her face darkening in suspicion.
'Just your mum, and after that, we can pretend none of this ever happened,' Harry replied solemnly. 'I can't promise that your mum won't.' He gestured to a chair at the table. 'Are you feeling okay?' Lily grimaced a little, but Harry wasn't sure if that was due to her discomfiture with the situation, or actual pain. Deciding to go with the latter, he flicked his wand at a cupboard, and a small vial flew into his outstretched hand. Silently, he slid it across the table, and buried his nose in his own mug of hot chocolate.
Lily picked it up and examined the vial. Blushing furiously, she ran a thumbnail around the cork, breaking the wax seal and tugged it from the mouth of the vial. She pinched her nose shut and gulped the blue potion, gagging slightly. She snatched her mug of hot chocolate and took several sips to mask the taste of the potion. 'Thanks, Dad.'
xxxxxx
James stumbled from the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. The only thing that kept him from tumbling to the floor was Teddy grabbing a fistful of James' coat. 'Ooooh. Graceful,' Maya said teasingly. 'It's a good thing you're much more graceful on your broom.'
'Traveling by Floo is not my specialty,' James told her, slapping the soot off his seat of his jeans. 'Brooms, on the other hand, I've been on one of those since before I could walk properly.'
'Well, it's good that you've got alternate plans for travel, then,' she said. 'You're going to break your nose one day, falling out of the fireplace like that.'
'Probably,' James agreed. 'So I hope you won't mind, but there's this place that shows really old films, and they're showing my mum's favorite one this week. I thought you'd like it.'
'Considering it's my first one, I'll have to trust your judgment,' Maya said dryly.
'It's either that or some recycled load of rubbish with nothing but lots of explosions or really laughable versions of vampires or werewolves. Or even our lot. It's quite insulting, actually. Dad likes the older ones with happy endings. Where people start singing or dancing out of nowhere.'
'Ugh.'
'Yeah, it is sort of barmy, but he likes it. Especially if the ending's all tied up neatly with a bow. Mum likes the ones that are more like this one. Usually, Al and I will try and figure out how long it'll take her to get sniffly, and claim she's got dust in her eye.'
Maya snorted. 'I don't get sniffly about anything,' she scoffed. Behind them, they heard Teddy's guffaw that he quickly turned into a cough.
'Swallowed my gum,' he choked. Doesn't get sniffly, my arse, he thought. What do you want to bet she's a complete mess at the end of this one? Over the years, as much as he had heard that Ginny wasn't the crying type, he'd seen her attempt to subtly wipe tears from her face after a few select films. Every single time she saw them. Maya, he reasoned, would end up the same way. 'Which train?' he called up to James.
'Northern,' James replied over his shoulder. 'Get off at Tottenham Court, then switch to Central and take it to Oxford Circus.'
'You mean I could have stayed home?' Teddy huffed. 'I just came from there!'
'You're the genius that told Dad you'd chaperone us,' James retorted. 'And that meant from the time we got Maya until we go back to the house for dinner.'
'Are we having lunch when we get there?' Teddy asked hopefully. 'I'm starved.'
'Yes,' James sighed. 'You're being more of a nuisance than if I'd brought Lily!'
Teddy grinned and jogged the few feet separating them and ruffled James' hair. 'Just doing my duty as chaperone to irritate you. Now then, that's done. Right, I won't sit with you at lunch, and I'll sit a few rows behind you at the film. But if you try to give me the slip, I'll be right between you the entire day.'
'That's out of order!' objected Maya.
'That's the deal,' Teddy countered. 'And take my advice -- play nice, and they'll let you go out alone sooner.'
'Is that what happened with you?' James asked. 'He wasn't allowed to take Vic out without Maddie along until Vic was of age,' he confessed to Maya in a loud whisper.
Teddy herded them onto the train. 'Mind the gap,' he muttered.
xxxxxx
'She's not just going to leave, is she?' Maya whispered, eyes fixed on the screen.
'Shhhh. Just watch,' James breathed, watching Maya from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth turning up as her jaw dropped when the princess got out of the reporter's impossibly tiny car, and ran into her country's embassy.
Maya gasped softly. 'No...' She began to blink rapidly as the film drew to its close, with the princess and the reporter each going their separate ways. 'That's not fair...' She rubbed the back of her hand under her nose.
'Are you crying?' James asked incredulously.
'No,' she sniffed. 'Something in my eye.' She began to rub one of her eyes.
Teddy draped over the backs of their seats, arms flopping between them. 'Did you like it?' he asked Maya.
'Yeah,' she said dreamily.
'Why does this film turn every girl into, well, such girls?' James wondered aloud.
'Who're you calling a girl?' Maya hissed, her wand appearing out of nowhere, the tip hovering inches from James' nose.
James' hand quickly closed on her wrist, and he yanked her arm down, glancing around the emptying theatre. 'You can't take that out here!'
'Take it back!' Maya warned.
'Take what back?' James asked, baffled.
'That girl thing!' Maya said in abject disgust.
'But you are a girl.' James was genuinely confused. Even his mother, who had grown up in the company of six older brothers, and worked in an admittedly male-dominated career as a Quidditch player and reporter, admitted to being a girl, albeit grudgingly at times.
'It's okay for girls to get a little weepy at films like this,' Teddy interjected. 'Because girls do that,' he explained.
Maya eyed him with severe skepticism on her face. 'Oh, really?'
'Yeah. We blokes don't do that,' he replied with the merest hint of condescension.
Maya stared at him for a moment, then began to howl with laughter. 'That's the most absolute rubbish I've ever heard.' She slid her wand into her coat pocket and stood up, pulling on her coat.
James watched Teddy, his eyes narrowed as he studied his older "brother's" hair. The tips had taken on a rosy hue, quite at odds with the turquoise. His eyes widened and his sharp intake of breath made Teddy turn to look at him questioningly. James' eyes flicked upward to Teddy's hair and an evil grin spread over his features.
Teddy stood suddenly, one of his hands seemingly smacking James in the head by accident. 'Sorry, mate,' Teddy said, cuffing James on the shoulder a little harder the necessary. 'I think we've got enough time that we can stop by my flat for some tea or hot chocolate. Maybe pick up some scones or something, too.'
'Seriously?' Maya blurted. 'You're hungry?'
'Yeah,' James said matter-of-factly.
'Hm. Is that one of those bloke things Teddy was talking about, where you feel the need to eat half your body weight a day?'
'You keep things like tea and hot chocolate in your flat?' James asked dubiously. 'He can't cook anything to save his life,' he confided in an undertone to Maya.
'You can boil water, can't you?' Teddy threw over his shoulder, leading them out of the theatre.
'Yeah.'
'Well, you can make the tea, then.'
James turned to Maya, but she shook her head. 'Don't even say it,' she warned. 'It's not one of those girls' things.'
'Fine,' James grumbled. 'I'll make it.'
As they stepped into the biting wind, Teddy grabbed James' arm and pulled him back. Leaning close to him, Teddy growled into James' ear, 'Tell anyone that I get emotional during sappy films like that, and I promise I will make life difficult for you.'
'What's it worth to you?' James asked cheekily
Teddy dropped James' arm and walked next to him for a moment. 'Ten minutes of time with Maya without me. I'll leave the two of you at my flat while I go fetch some scones.'
James nodded, and caught up with Maya. He glanced over his shoulder at Teddy. 'Okay.'
xxxxxx
Teddy stood in the kitchen, pointing at James and Maya. 'Right. Stay in here or the sitting room. And keep your hands above the waist.' He strode out the door, throwing them each warning glances as he left.
Maya turned to James, a smile playing on her lips. 'Does he think people don't snog in kitchens and sitting rooms?'
James began to fill the teakettle, snorting with mirth. 'Only if he didn't spend any time at all in my house.' He reached in the cupboard for cups and saucers, setting them on the table and swirled hot water in the teapot to warm it. 'I hope he's got milk,' he muttered, pulling open the refrigerator and unearthing a small carton, sniffing it gingerly. 'Does that smell all right to you?'
Maya leaned forward and gave the milk a cautious sniff, then recoiled in horror. 'Ugh!' She sat back and grimaced. 'I'll go without milk today, thanks.'
'Good choice,' James muttered, shoving the milk back into the refrigerator. He took the chair next to Maya and leaned forward, almost shyly kissing her. 'Hi,' he murmured, grinning bashfully. 'Been wanting to do that all day.'
'Too many people around,' Maya agreed, returning the kiss. 'Even at school.'
James brushed a lock of her dark hair from her eyes. 'You know... There's a corner of the library...' he began
xxxxxx
Molly shifted the basket on her arm and opened the gate surrounding the small cemetery where Gideon and Fabian had been buried. The gate shut behind her and she picked her way through older graves to her brothers' in the back. She stooped slightly to brush the light dusting of snow off the headstone so their names were clearly visible. 'Happy birthday,' she murmured. 'Let's see... It's been a while since I've been able to come by, hasn't it? Vic is thinking of going into Spell Damage. It's horribly difficult and she's always at the hospital or holed up somewhere studying. Izzy's about to finish school, and isn't sure what she wants to do with herself. I rather think she'll do anything as long as it doesn't have anything to do with the reservation. She's gotten a letter from a couple of Quidditch teams, looking for a scout, and she seems to be leaning in that direction. Parker is going into International Magical Law. He's the only one out of them all, save for Bill, to earn an O.W.L in History of Magic. He's even taken the N.E.W.T. class. But it helps that he's a born diplomat. And he's got loads of experience in mediation. So would you, if you had fifteen cousins. George's twins are a handful, of course, but they're much less trouble than he and Fred ever were. Probably because Fred and Jacob don't have to compete with five others. Hugo is doing all right in school. Finding how he fits in. I was afraid he would get lost among the others, he's so quiet. At least he doesn't worry about living in Rosie's rather precocious shadow. And James, it seems, has a girlfriend.' Molly smiled as she cast a Stasis charm over the cut flowers in the basket and carefully lowered herself to the ground, conscious of her aching knees, and began to arrange them in front of the headstone. She used her wand to Vanish the layer of dead leaves around the grave. 'Can you believe our Ginny has a son old enough to have a girlfriend?' She chuckled a little. 'Arthur should probably consider retiring, but it's good for him to get out and about. He'd probably die of boredom or burn the house down trying out some Muggle contraption.'
Snow began to fall and Molly gathered her things and began to rise from the cold ground. She stood for a few more moments in front of the grave, feeling as she always did -- that she'd just buried them all over again -- when she heard the sound of someone walking up the path. She whipped around, wand in her hand, and gaped at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy standing outside the gate, wrapped in a thick cloak. Molly lowered her wand, but didn't stow it in the basket. She stood on the other side of the gate, blocking the way in for other woman, glaring at her.
Narcissa lifted her chin and met Molly's eyes squarely, refusing to give any quarter in their silent battle of wills.
Molly couldn't stand it anymore. 'Go away,' she said rudely, inwardly wincing, because she would have hexed any of her children or grandchildren for using such a tone of voice.
'You don't understand,' Narcissa began quietly.
'I don't need to. You don't belong here.'
'I can just wait until you leave,' Narcissa pointed out. 'Come back at a later time.' She gestured to the gate between them. 'Or you can let me in.'
Molly's lips thinned, but she took the merest step to one side, forcing Narcissa to squeeze indecorously through the small crack she allowed her. Narcissa stood just to the side of the gate, gazing in aloof serenity over the collection of graves, giving Molly no indication of her intent. After several minutes, Molly huffed and stalked out of the gate, Disapparating halfway down the path.
Narcissa slowly wound through the graves until she came to Fabian's.
If Lavinia were dead, as she feared, this was the closest thing she had.
xxxxxx
Maya stepped easily from the fireplace and stared around the sitting room. 'This is your house?' she asked in a stunned whisper.
'Yeah.' James glanced around the house.
'It's huge...'
'Is it?'
'Well... compared to where I live,' Maya conceded. 'Two small bedrooms, a bath, and a sitting room over the kitchen of the pub.' She suddenly felt horribly out of place, biting her lip, and staring at the floor.
'Hey...' James nudged her arm. 'Are you okay?'
Maya's fingers twisted together. 'Well, I can see what my mum was worried about.' She turned back toward the fireplace. 'I should probably go home. Where's your Floo powder?'
'Maya!' Ginny came into the sitting room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. 'I hope you're hungry.'
'I could eat,' Maya allowed.
'Come on. Dinner's on the table, and if you don't hurry, Al, Scorpius, and Teddy are going to inhale it all.'
'Speaking from personal experience?' Maya asked wryly.
'I had six older brothers, and Harry stayed with us quite a bit during summer and Christmas hols,' Ginny told her. 'If you didn't eat fast, you didn't eat.' She put an arm around the girl's shoulders, guiding her into the kitchen. 'Did you enjoy the film?'
'I did. But Teddy said something about girls crying in films, because that's what girls do...' Maya replied, giving Teddy a bright smile.
'Oh, he did, did he?' Ginny chuckled.
'Dinner's great tonight, Ginny,' Teddy said quickly.
'Nice save,' Al told Teddy, reaching for a bread roll.
'Thanks.'
Lily snorted into her chicken stew. 'You think Mum's going to forget that? Good luck.'
'Hey, Dad?' Al said down the table. 'Viktor Krum wanted to know what happened to that hulking bloke Mum used to date.'
Lily's brows knit in bemusement. 'Who was that?' She knew Dean and had seen pictures of Michael Corner, but neither of them were particularly large. And hulking was the last word she'd use to describer her father.
Harry flushed and coughed. 'Erm, well, you see...'
'It was all a ploy,' Ginny said, ladling stew into her bowl. 'Your aunt Fleur invited Krum to her wedding, and according to your father, Krum tried to, ah, woo me during the reception.'
'Dad, you lied?' James gasped in mock dismay.
'It was all to protect your mum,' Harry mumbled. 'Krum was on the prowl for girls at the wedding. And I didn't want her to become one of his conquests.' He caught sight of Ginny's gimlet eye and hastily added. 'But she can take care of herself.'
'Now, that was a nice save,' Teddy said to Al.
xxxxxx
Ginny knocked on Lily's half-open bedroom door, then craned her head through the gap. 'Hey...' She sat on the edge of Lily's bed. 'How're you feeling?'
'Did Dad tell you?' Lily asked in a small voice, looking down at the book in her hands.
'Yes.'
Lily closed the book, marking her place with a thumb. 'I dunno.'
'Makes you feel a bit out of sorts, doesn't it?' Ginny said in commiseration.
'Yeah.' Lily gestured toward her midsection. 'Hurts a bit, but Dad gave me a potion earlier. It's just so embarrassing... I mean, Dad was here...'
'Oh, I understand, believe me,' Ginny told her. 'We were in Egypt, visiting Bill, and Mum was napping, and Dad was out doing something or other, and I had to ask Percy for help.'
'Oooh. Sorry, Mum.'
'Yeah. I don't think Percy's ever recovered from it. He got swottier after that.' Lily giggled, then her breath caught on a hiccup, and her eyes welled with mortified tears. Ginny wrapped her arms around Lily and hugged her tightly.
xxxxxx
James settled into the compartment with a sigh. The train going back to Hogwarts after the holiday was slightly less crowded than the one in September, so he had found an empty one next to Al, Scorpius, Lily, Rose, and Hugo's, pointedly ignoring Fred and Jacob's mute pleas from the one they shared with Parker, Isabella, and Madeline. They had apologized to him for their unkind comments about Maya, but James hadn't been in a forgiving mood. 'You brought it on yourselves, gits,' James could hear Maddie huff unsympathetically.
'Hiya,' Maya said. 'Can I join you?'
'Sure.'
'I'm surprised you're not with the others,' Maya commented, heaving her bag to the overhead rack.
James shrugged. 'Just wanted some space today.'
'You'll get no complaints from me,' Maya said, dropping into the seat next to James. 'It was nonstop at the pub. Dad brought me here, then went right back to Falmouth. Didn't even stay for the train to leave.'
The compartment door slid open, and Fred and Jacob stood side by side, wearing identical contrite expressions. 'What do you want?' James asked levelly.
'James!' Maya gasped softly. She'd never seen James speak that way to one of his cousins.
Jacob exchanged a look with his twin. 'We're sorry,' he said to Maya.
'Yeah. We wanted to apologize to you,' Fred added.
'What for?'
Jacob scuffed the floor with one of his shoes and nudged Fred in the ribs with an elbow. Fred sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. 'We said some things about you...' he began.
'And they weren't very nice,' Jacob muttered.
'Rubbish about you being in Slytherin mostly, and what the girls' reputations are like,' Fred sighed.
Maya visibly stiffened. 'I see,' she murmured coldly.
'We were just trying to take the piss out of James,' Jacob explained lamely.
'And it went too far,' Fred finished. 'So... sorry,' he mumbled.
'Thank you,' Maya said, looking down at her hands.
'Yeah...' Fred tugged on Jacob's elbow and jerked his head toward the open door. 'Come on...'
Maya took a deep breath and just after they left the compartment, she called, 'Hey!'
Fred's head popped back through the door. 'Yeah?'
'You want to come in here?'
Fred smiled in relief and nodded.
FIFTY EIGHT -- Better Left Unsaid
Harry pushed the files across the conference table to Carolina. 'You're the expert here,' he told her. 'How should we proceed with this?'
She examined the names on the files and immediately pushed one aside. 'You can take Callum MacDonald off the list,' she stated. 'He moved to Thailand as soon as he retired.'
'Are you sure?'
'Positive.' Carolina glanced at the abandoned file. 'And he died last week. I just got the notice from his family.'
Harry glanced at Carolina sharply. 'How did he die...?'
'Callum was quite old, Harry,' she replied quietly. 'Nothing nefarious about it.'
'Right.' Harry sighed and crossed the name of Callum MacDonald off his list. 'But that still doesn't answer my question about how to go on with this.'
'What do you think we should do?' Carolina countered.
Harry frowned, drumming the table with his fingers. 'Bring them in on the same day. Around the same time. Different conference rooms. Veritaserum, maybe. Pull their memories, store them... That way we can look at them in a Pensieve later.'
Carolina snorted, a sound quite at odds with her appearance. 'And how do you propose we acquire a Pensieve?'
'I have one,' Harry said carelessly.
Carolina's mouth dropped open. 'Those are beyond rare,' she breathed.
'It belonged to Dumbledore,' Harry said diffidently. 'He left it to me after he died.' Harry shook himself slightly. 'Does that sound like a plan?'
'Sounds like one to me.'
'Brilliant. Next week?'
Carolina flicked her wand in the air in front of them. 'How's the twenty-first?'
Harry nodded. 'Gives me time to coordinate with MLE and the Hit Wizards.'
'Hit Wizards...?' she asked uncertainly.
'They may be retired, Carolina, but they're still fully trained wizards...' Harry sighed. 'Don't forget, one of these blokes tried to kill me last summer,' he reminded her grimly.
'Yes, I remember,' she said dryly. 'I was there...'
'Then you can understand why I don't want to take chances,' Harry responded with equal dryness. 'I'm going to send a squad to each of them, and have them escorted back here, rather than let them come in on their own.'
Carolina tipped her chair back a little. 'Ten years I've worked with you as Heads, and you're still not a very trusting sort, are you?'
Harry gathered the files and pushed his chair back. 'It's not that I don't trust people,' he said. 'But what with human nature being what it is...' He shrugged.
'It's not that you don't trust people, but you don't trust people?' Carolina retorted.
Harry grinned. 'Well, you're not people,' he said over his shoulder as left the room. He jogged lightly to the lifts, earning snickers from the younger Obliviators.
'Got summat to prove, then, old man?' one of them shouted across their large common room.
Harry flashed the young man a cocky smile, twirling his wand between his fingers. 'To you? Nah. But if you want, we can take a turn in the Aurors' training room. Duel a little.'
'Don't do it, Kenny,' one of the others warned. 'He'll wipe the floor with your arse. I've seen him disarm someone with hardly a thought. Bloke didn't know what hit him until Harry put a full Body-Bind on him.'
Harry let his smile grow wider. 'Offer still stands, newbie.' The lift doors slid apart and he slipped into the lift. 'Just let me know,' he called across the room. The doors slid shut and Harry leaned against the wall, chuckling a little. Was I ever that smug? He wondered to himself. 'Probably,' he murmured.
He punched the button for Level Two, the overwhelming urgency of the case seeming to lessen a little for the first time in years. Narcissa Malfoy's visit to him last month curled into his brain and when the lift came to a halt at Level Two, Harry veered down the corridor to the cavernous room where files were kept. He walked between the towering cupboards, his fingers trailing along the dusty surfaces, glancing at the dates on the front in glowing blue numbers. He came to the one labeled "nineteen eighty-one" and tapped it with his wand. 'August,' he murmured. A long drawer shot out of it, and Harry skimmed through the files, some thick with information, and others depressingly thin. He found Gideon and Fabian Prewetts' files and pulled them out. He searched for one labeled "Lavinia Malfoy" but it wasn't there. He frowned and flicked his wand at the files. 'Accio,' he said, but nothing flew into his hand. 'Interesting,' he said to the empty room. 'Wonder what he told people when she wasn't around any more...'
'Carolina already told me about your plans for next week,' Shacklebolt said from just inside Harry's office door.
'It's not about that,' Harry responded. 'When someone in the Order died or disappeared, what happened?'
'What do you mean, what happened?'
'I mean, did the Order have some sort of record of how members died and hide it somewhere?' Harry demanded.
Kingsley's eyes narrowed. 'Why do you need to know?'
'I've been asked to look into someone's disappearance, and it occurred the same day on Order member was killed. I think they might be linked.'
'Did you check the Ministry files?'
'She's not in there. And she's not in the dead person's file, either. Because I don't think she was ever reported as being missing.'
Kingsley pointed to a nondescript cupboard. 'In there,' he said. 'Remember when you took over as Head?'
'Vaguely.'
'Every cupboard in here is charmed to open only for your wand or mine. And that particular one has a record of every single Order member's death or disappearance.' Kingsley pointed to a cupboard tucked under the window. 'But only the Head Auror and the leader of the Order can open it.'
Harry eyed Kingsley speculatively. 'Can I presume that the leader of the Order is you?'
'You can.'
'Brilliant. Shall we?' Harry pointed his wand at the cupboard.
'Whose records do you want?'
'Gideon and Fabian Prewett.' If Harry's reply rattled Kingsley, he didn't show it. Instead, he merely pointed his own wand at the cupboard.
'On three... One, two, three...' The cupboard slid smoothly out from the wall, stuffed with files, emitting soft silvery light. 'If there were witnesses, Dumbledore insisted we keep memories with the report.'
Harry leaned over the cupboard. His fingers fanned the files until he came to the one labeled with Gideon and Fabian's names. 'There are six vials in here,' he said. 'There were six witnesses?'
'I don't know,' Shacklebolt said. 'I wasn't in the Order then. I had just finished school when your parents died.'
Harry held up each vial in turn. 'Mad-Eye. Sirius. Remus. Dorcas Meadowes. Frank Longbottom. And...' His fingers convulsed around the small crystal vial. At least I know she survived that long... he thought. 'Can I remove the file?' he asked tightly.
'Your office. You're technically an Order member. You can remove anything you want.'
'Thanks.' Harry carefully replaced the vials into the file and placed it into his bag. 'I'll have it back by the end of the week.'
Draco studied the spines of the books in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back. Familiar perfume wafted delicately into his senses. 'Hello, Mother,' he said, without needing to look at the open door behind him.
'Draco.'
'Have you come to lecture me about my continued unwillingness to speak to my son?' he asked idly.
'Not especially.'
'Ah.' Draco's eyes flicked toward his mother. 'Then why are you here, if I may ask?'
'I'm looking for something,' she replied evenly.
'I've gotten rid of most of Father's books,' Draco told her.
'So I see.' Narcissa examined the books in front of them. 'I'm not looking for one of his. He wouldn't have known about this one,' she said.
'If you described it to me or told me the title, perhaps I could help you find it,' Draco offered. 'I've rearranged things.'
'I don't quite remember what it looks like,' Narcissa told him. 'I'll know it when I see it.'
'Very well.' Draco shrugged and returned to his perusal of the shelves. He pulled several volumes about various potion ingredients off the shelves, piling them on a table, then retrieved his old textbook. He knew from Scorpius' book list they were still using Magical Drafts and Potions through the O.W.L. It hadn't changed much since he'd used it and there weren't many options for textbooks. It was still the best option.
Narcissa frankly stared at him. 'Planning on doing some potion-brewing later?'
'Perhaps.' Draco had actually enjoyed the Potions class at Hogwarts. It was his favorite class, even when Snape taught it. The exacting nature of it appealed to him, especially as his own life spun chaotically out of control. As an adult, Draco had grown somewhat disdainful for Snape's methods. For someone so knowledgeable, he hadn't moved beyond parroting what the textbook said. Draco had heard a rumor that Harry Potter had somehow obtained Snape's copy of Advanced Potion-Making for the N.E.W.T.-level class, and that it was filled with all sorts of ways to brew Potions better and more efficiently.
'Your aunt Andromeda is quite good,' Narcissa commented, scaling a ladder.
Draco made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
'I'm not very skilled at it myself,' Narcissa continued. 'I'm adequate, I suppose, if it's not very difficult.'
Draco merely shrugged and stooped to study the titles on the bottom shelf. He tugged a rather thick book out that looked promising and blew a layer of dust off the cover, frowning. The book felt rather light for its size. He flipped it open to reveal a hollowed-out center filled with a broken wand. 'Mother, what is this?'
Narcissa slowly descended the ladder, her face paper-white. She reached for it, her hands shaking. 'Did your father ever talk about his sister?'
'He didn't have a sister,' Draco corrected.
Narcissa plucked a creased photograph from under the wand. She held it out to Draco. 'Her name was Lavinia,' she said quietly. 'She's been missing since you were a year old.'
'He never talked about her,' Draco said, turning away from Narcissa.
'No. He acted as if she didn't exist after she... left... Removed all traces that she'd ever lived here.'
'What did she do?' Draco snorted. 'Join the Order of the Phoenix?'
'In a manner of speaking,' Narcissa admitted. 'She chose a life of which he did not approve.'
'Did he have her killed or something?' he scoffed.
'I don't know. I just know one morning he told me to never mention her again.'
'What did she do?' Draco repeated, spitting out each word in distaste.
'Fabian Prewett.'
'Who?'
'One of Molly Weasley's brothers,' Narcissa clarified. 'Your father would have just called him a blood-traitor and dispensed with the given name.' She gently closed the book cover over the broken wand. 'She was involved with him for more than a year, then after he was killed, she was... gone... I'm not sure how Lucius found out. Lavinia was most discreet. As was Fabian.'
'Wait...' Draco felt dizzy. He blindly dropped into a chair. 'You're telling me my father might have killed his own sister for that? Why didn't he just disown her?'
Narcissa turned cool grey eyes on her son. 'Do you think a mere disowning would have satisfied your father?'
Draco gulped. 'No. No, I don't.'
Lily gazed in dismay at the pile of books on the table. She peeped around them at Hugo, who was gaping at them with what she hoped was a similar expression to hers. 'Did you expect to have this much homework?' she breathed.
'I never had this much in Muggle school,' Hugo replied.
'Me, either.'
'Where do we start...?'
'What's due first?' Lily ventured.
'Trentham's homework next class, then Neville's. Gareth's isn't due until next week, and Williams' is after that.'
Lily pulled out a homework planner that Hermione had given her for her birthday. One of the first things Harry had done when he came home from the hospital was remove the charms that made it trill reminders to her. She flipped through the pages until she came to January. 'Wait, Flitwick's is due...' Her finger slid down the color-coded squares. 'Same day as Neville's...' The planner slipped from her fingers.
'What's going on?' Sophie asked cheerfully, tipping a pile of books next to Lily and Hugo's.
'Lily got an 'Acceptable' on a Transfiguration quiz today,' Hugo told her.
'That's not so bad,' Sophie said. 'It's pretty good. Mum tells me Trentham is much harder than McGonagall was.'
'But I need to get at least an Exceeds Expectations on my O.W.L.s,' Lily argued.
'Why?' Madeline asked, sliding into the seat next to Hugo, bringing the scent of the winter evening with her. 'D'you want to be a Healer or something?'
'No,' Lily muttered, opening her Transfiguration textbook. 'St. Mungo's makes me queasy.'
'Better get used to it,' Hugo shot at her in an undertone.
'Shut. Up,' she hissed.
Al trotted into the library, dropping his bag in a chair, hair damp with sweat from Quidditch practice, swiping the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his face. 'Anyone seen Scorpius? We were supposed to work on our Potions homework together.
'He's back in the history section,' Rose sighed, as she flipped the end of her plait over her shoulder. She sniffed the front of her own sweatshirt cautiously. 'Ugh. I need a bath.' She turned her head toward Hugo and began to sniff the top of his head delicately. 'No, that's you. When was the last time you washed your hair?'
'Yesterday,' Hugo ground out. 'I do wash myself every day, Rosie,' he huffed. 'It's not me. Al needs to change his socks.'
'But these are my lucky socks,' Al said in a stricken whisper.
'Lucky socks that need to find some laundry soap,' Lily snickered. 'If you wear those during a game, no wonder you can find a Snitch so quickly. The other Seeker won't go near you.'
'Oh, ha-ha-ha... Lee Jordan's between jobs and everyone wants to be a comedian.' Al surreptitiously took his wand out and shot a quick Scouring charm at his feet. The musty smell lessened considerably, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Scorpius let a book fall to the table. The resulting thump made everyone look up. 'A little light reading?' Isabella asked, opening her Herbology book.
'Or are you having trouble sleeping?' Nicholas scoffed. 'That'd put Alex out in two seconds.'
'Put you to sleep in one,' Alexander retorted, nudging his twin in the ribs.
'It's just something I've been wanting to read,' Scorpius said, pushing the book into his schoolbag. 'We're doing a Shrinking Solution in class tomorrow, aren't we?' he said, pointedly steering the subject away from his reading habits. If he thought the topic had been forgotten, he was wrong. He came out of the bathroom in his dormitory to find Al perched on the foot of his bed, hair still wet from a shower, smelling strongly of soap. 'I believe you're on the wrong bed,' Scorpius told Al, as he stowed his toothbrush in the cupboard next to his bed.
Al held up the book Scorpius had left in the middle of his bed. 'The War Against the Dark Lord?' he drawled.
Scorpius snatched the book from Al's hands. 'James read it,' he blurted defensively. 'Last year.'
'So that means you have to read it?' Al countered.
'Look, my family doesn't really talk about things from then. Last Christmas, I get ambushed by Lily and something my grandfather did to your mum, and I knew nothing about it. I had to ask Teddy about it. My father's on probation for the rest of his life and I don't know why! I overheard my grandmother talking to Andromeda after our first year and she talked about all the hoops she had to jump through just because Grandfather died. I know both my grandfather and father did terrible things. I really just want someone in my family to tell me exactly what they did and why, and since I don't see that happening any time soon...' He gestured to the book on his knees. 'I'll have to read about it.'
'You could ask my dad...' Al began.
Scorpius began to laugh. 'But that's the thing, Al. I don't want to ask your mother or father. I don't want to ask Andromeda or Teddy. And Grandmother's already told me as much as I think she knows or is willing to say. And Mother wasn't even part of Father's orbit when they were in school...' He put the heavy book on the night table and pulled the edge of the quilt back. 'I'm going to bed now...'
'Scorpius...'
Scorpius reached for the heavy curtains that he rarely pulled around his bed. 'I don't want to talk about it anymore.'
Al slid off the bed and trudged to his own, wondering what good came of trying to find out everything they could about their parents' pasts.
Draco lay in bed staring at the slowly brightening ceiling. He hadn't slept at all. Any illusions he had about his father had been shattered years ago, but the revelation he could have arranged his own sister's death sent spasms of revulsion through him. He curled on his side, his stomach cramping as he fought to refrain from vomiting over the edge of his bed. Even if Lucius hadn't actually held the wand to her head, he'd made it extremely difficult for her to survive on her own. And in the unlikely event that she had, Draco couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she'd managed to live.
Unable to go back to sleep, he wearily shoved the bedding aside and put his feet gingerly on the floor, feeling as if he had a hangover. He pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the en-suite bathroom, shedding his pajamas in a trail behind him, hoping a hot shower would force some semblance of consciousness into his brain. He leaned against the marble wall, letting the water stream over his head. Draco heavily reached for the face cloth and soap, and performed a sketchy ablution, too exhausted to care that he had probably missed more of his body than he'd washed. Even the sight of more hair in the drain failed to upset him this morning.
He toweled off, and pulled on the first clothes that came to his hand in the wardrobe, using his wand to fasten them. He normally didn't employ such profligate uses of magic to dress himself, but Draco didn't feel as if he could manage without it. He dragged himself down the stairs and fell into his chair at the table, shakily pouring himself a cup of tea. He didn't really want it, but he welcomed the warmth of the cup as he cradled it in his hands, inhaling the steam. His eyes drifted shut in as much bliss as he could manage at the moment.
'You look awful,' Daphne said when she walked into the dining room, her head tilted to the side, as she fastened an earring into an ear.
'If it's anything like I feel, then I must look a fright,' he mumbled.
Daphne tilted his chin up with one finger. Heavy shadows smudged the skin under Draco's eyes and he was paler than usual. One hand rested briefly against his forehead. 'You're ill,' she said, almost accusingly.
'I didn't sleep well last night,' Draco sighed.
Daphne's fair brows drew together and she leaned closer, her thumb brushing over something on his face. 'Did you have dragon pox as a child?' she asked.
'No...'
'Well, the cat's among the pixies now,' Daphne said, resignedly.
Draco opened heavy-lidded eyes. 'I'm f --' he began. To his horror, he threw up on Daphne's neat jumper. 'S-s-s-sorry,' he choked.
Daphne stood frozen, her arms held away from her body, eyeing the splotch of sick that dripped to the toes of her shoes. 'It's all right,' she soothed, pulling her wand from her trouser pocket and waved it over her jumper. It vanished and Daphne stowed her wand back into her pocket. She bent and helped Draco to his feet. 'Back to bed with you.'
'I don't need to go back to bed,' Draco huffed stubbornly.
'Yes, you do.' Daphne steered him gently to the stairs and guided him, not into his bedroom, but hers. It was closer, and she was beginning to stagger under his weight. She eased him to the edge of her unmade bed and swung his feet to the mattress, jabbing her wand at his shoes. They flew off his feet and landed next to her wardrobe, side by side. 'Lie down,' she ordered. It was a sign of how bad Draco felt that he didn't argue with her and all but melted into the pillows. Daphne drew the bedding over him, and let her hand rest against his forehead once more. 'I'll bring you a potion for your fever in a moment,' she said. 'You're going to be just fine,' she said with more confidence she felt. While dragon pox was routine in small children, it was dangerous, sometimes even fatal in adults.
And while Daphne Greengrass Malfoy didn't know if she wanted to remain married to her husband, she definitely didn't want him to die. At least not yet.
FIFTY NINE -- Momentary Respite
Daphne slumped in an armchair in the corner of her bedroom, eyes closed when a familiar retching sound made her leap for a basin. She grabbed the front of his pajama top and rolled Draco toward the edge of the bed, positioning the basin under his head. He heaved into it, coughing weakly. As soon as she let go of him, Draco crumpled into the pillows. Daphne set the basin on a table and jabbed her wand at it, Vanishing the puddle of sick, tinged with the remains of the Fever Reducing potion she'd managed to tip into his mouth earlier, pooled into the bottom. She reached for the damp face cloth draped over the headboard and pointed her wand at it murmuring, 'Aguamenti.' Daphne wiped it over Draco's face, dabbing gently over the dark green spots scattered across his cheeks. He muttered incoherently turning his face away from the clammy face cloth. 'We'll try the potion again in just a moment,' she told him softly.
She stretched and folded the face cloth, setting it down on the table next to the basin, sighing deeply, rolling her head slowly around her neck, smiling beatifically as it popped several times. 'That sounds like it hurts,' Narcissa observed from the doorway.
'Mmm-hmmmm,' Daphne breathed. 'Felt lovely.'
Narcissa came into the room and took Daphne's arm. 'Go have a bath,' she suggested. 'And get some sleep. You can use my bedroom.'
'I'm all right,' Daphne protested.
'You've been up for two days.'
Daphne smiled weakly. 'I never had to do this for Scorpius, so I suppose I'm a bit overdue.'
'If you won't sleep, at least go have a bath and put on something clean that doesn't reek of potions,' Narcissa said.
Daphne stared at the figure in her bed. 'What if his fever doesn't go down soon?'
'Hospital,' Narcissa said succinctly. 'If it's not down by morning we'll take him into London.'
Daphne nodded and reached up to pull the elastic ponytailer from her hair, letting it fall around her face.
'Go on, then,' Narcissa urged. 'I'll stay in here with Draco.' She waited until Daphne gathered fresh clothing and stumbled out of the room, reeling with exhaustion. Narcissa perched on the edge of the bed and stroked the wispy blonde hair from her son's face. 'Merlin forbid you make anything easy for yourself,' she crooned. Draco's face turned instinctively into her cool hand. 'It would be very bad form for you to die and leave so many things unresolved, wouldn't it?' She continued to gently stroke his hair, the line between her brows deepening in concern.
Lucius had contracted dragon pox the year Sirius Black had managed to escape from Azkaban. Fortunately, it had been relatively mild -- an unusual occurrence for dragon pox in an adult. Sometimes, Narcissa wondered if they would have been better off had Lucius died then. If that had happened, perhaps Draco wouldn't have been chosen to take his father's place in Voldemort's inner circle and the rest of their lives would have played out much differently.
At least that's what Narcissa dreamed at times.
Daphne used her thumb to coat Draco's lips with salve. They were cracked and bled slightly. She used her wand to freeze the water inside the glass next to her bed and with an impatient flick of her wand, broke it into small pieces, then crushed it to the consistency of snow. 'It's not getting better, is it?' she whispered to him, while she fished a bit of the ice from the glass and nudged it between his teeth. Giving him crushed ice came to her last night when he couldn't even sip the water she offered him any longer, and a sudden image of her sister offering her chipped ice during the long hours she'd been in labor with Scorpius came to mind.
Draco verged on unrecognizable. His eyes were sunken, mottled purple and deep green shadows darkening the flesh around them. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, with spots clustered on the eyelids. In contrast, his cheekbones jutted in sharp relief to the gaunt cheeks below. Draco thrashed feebly in his sleep, moaning fitfully. Daphne automatically reached up to smooth the hair from his forehead, but she pulled back, grabbing the limp face cloth instead and pressing it gently to his face. 'I think there's a bed in St. Mungo's with your name on it,' she told him. 'I'm really sorry for what I'm going to have to do to you. I promise I don't derive any sort of pleasure from this...' She flicked her wand at him, murmuring a spell. A stretcher pushed itself under Draco's unresisting body and straps snaked from under the stretcher, binding him snugly to it.
Harry paged through the file detailing every Muggle-baiting they could attribute to Joel Anderson and his conspirator. He wanted to know where the man had been for every event, and was compiling a list of dates for the interview on Wednesday morning. His office door was half-open, as it usually was when he didn't need absolute privacy during the day, so a soft knock on the heavy door didn't surprise him. 'Harry?' Andre Beauchamp, one of his first trainees, stood on the other side.
Without looking up, Harry idly said, 'Yeah?' But his fingers tightened imperceptibly on his quill. Andre headed the team that kept tabs on Draco and Ian Greengrass' group had become increasingly dissatisfied with mere talk. They wanted action. Ian and Draco weren't exactly what Harry would call best mates, but they spent several evenings a month in each other's company.
'Malfoy's just been admitted to St. Mungo's,' Andre said.
Harry's quill stilled on the parchment. 'Whatever for?' He had heard the rumors from last summer about Draco and Pansy Parkinson. Has Daphne finally gone and poisoned him, then?
'Dragon pox.'
'At his age?' Harry blurted, dumbfounded.
'Yeah. He's in a bad way.'
'Brilliant,' Harry muttered sarcastically. 'Fetch the trainees,' he instructed. There were only two current trainees right now and both of them in their second year. 'Split your team up and set two of them at the hospital with... Jack, I suppose, and the other two at the house with Dominic.'
'You want to put Jack in the hospital?' Andre said uncertainly. 'Blood kind of spooks him...'
'Needs to get used to it,' Harry huffed. 'Anything changes, you tell me straightaway.'
Ginny left the ward where a one of her old teammates was recovering from a broken collarbone. She walked through the reception area of St. Mungo's, dodging the straggly line of people queuing up to see the welcome witch, when she nearly tripped over someone's feet. Stumbling, she turned to give the offending person a piece of her mind, until she noticed it was Daphne Malfoy, huddled in the hard chair. Normally, Daphne wore tasteful, understated clothing. Every time Ginny had seen her in Diagon Alley, Daphne never looked anything less than well-groomed. It amazed Ginny that someone could manage to look that good on a consistent basis. But today, Daphne was wrapped in an oversized jumper and baggy jeans, ancient plimsolls on her feet, hair swept up carelessly in a ponytail, wispy bits of hair straggling around her face.
Daphne seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to the bustle that surrounded her.
Ginny nearly continued on her way, but the image of Scorpius giggling gleefully when Al's Exploding Snap cards singed off his eyebrows rose before her eyes. 'Are you all right?' she asked, perching on the edge of the chair next to Daphne's.
'Hmmm?' Daphne turned to Ginny bemusedly.
'Is anything the matter...?'
Daphne gestured to the ceiling above them. 'Draco. He's come down with dragon pox...'
'That's not good,' Ginny blurted. 'Has Scorpius had it...?'
'Not yet... I think perhaps I ought to have let him play with my sister, Astoria's, child when he had it,' she said deprecatingly. She scrubbed her hands over her face, mussing her hair even more. 'What time is it...?'
'It's after seven,' Ginny replied, examining the other woman closely. 'Have you eaten at all today?'
'Erm... I had a sandwich from the tea room earlier...'
'I asked if you'd actually eaten anything, not lifted the bread, wrinkled your nose at what was on the sandwich and chucked it in the dustbin because eating it will make you become a patient,' Ginny retorted.
'Then that would be no,' Daphne said.
'Mrs. Malfoy?' A Healer scanned the reception area. 'Mrs. Daphne Malfoy?'
'I'm here,' she said, struggling to her feet.
'Oh, there you are. Your husband's settled and resting and we've managed to bring the fever down a bit, but I'm afraid visiting hours are over, so you won't be able to go up and see him just now.'
'Oh... Of course,' Daphne stammered.
'But we'll contact you immediately if his condition worsens.'
'Thank you,' Daphne murmured. She sank back into the chair, staring at something in the distance.
'Come with me,' Ginny said decisively, standing up.
'Why?'
'Well, you need to get out of here, even if it's just a few minutes,' Ginny said. 'I've spent a lot of time sitting next to hospital beds with Harry doing what he does. And even if you turn round and come right back here afterwards, you could do with a hot meal.'
'I don't know,' Daphne said doubtfully.
'Come on, it'll just be an hour, tops,' Ginny cajoled. 'We can go to the Leaky Cauldron and use a private room if you're not up to the public room.'
At length Daphne nodded and pushed herself to her feet.
Ginny led her to the entrance. 'So how bad is it?'
'Pretty bad,' Daphne told her. 'It's taken most of the day to bring the fever down.'
'How long has he been ill?' Ginny asked.
Daphne mentally counted to herself. 'Five days...' she said, slightly shocked at how much time had passed.
'And he's sill this bad?' Ginny said in surprise.
'Yes,' Daphne said shortly. 'It's what killed his grandfather, you know,' she added.
'What have the Healers said?'
Daphne smiled grimly. 'You know as much as I do at this point.' She looked around the street outside St. Mungo's. 'How are we getting to Diagon Alley...?'
'Do you mind if I Side-Along you?' The last thing Ginny wanted was to be condescending.
'Not at all. I'd probably leave half of myself here if I tried it on my own right now.' Daphne took a handful of Ginny's coat sleeve. She stumbled a little when they reappeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and followed Ginny inside to a small table in a corner. 'I don't suppose you have teapots large enough to bathe in?' she asked the barman.
'Sadly, no.'
'I guess I'll have a normal sized pot of tea, then. And the tomato bisque.' She picked up the glass of water the barman had left on the table and sipped it, while Ginny ordered her own meal.
'Does Scorpius know about all of this?' Ginny asked, as soon as the barman had left.
'Narcissa's writing to him. I sent her home after we'd been there for several hours.'
'You might want to alert Neville, erm, Professor Longbottom, as well. He's Scorpius' Head of House, and the more Neville knows, the better prepared he'll be in case...' Ginny trailed off uncomfortably.
'I hadn't thought of that. I'll do that as soon as I get home,' Daphne promised. She was beginning to visibly droop.
Ginny toyed with her fork and gazed at Daphne. She seemed rather distracted by something. 'Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?' she asked.
'I don't actually have to answer you, do I?' Daphne said. 'Go ahead...'
'Is there a certain, erm, outcome you want for Draco...?' Ginny knew she was being frank to the point of rudeness, but she didn't care.
'I don't know,' Daphne confessed. She glanced at the barman, bringing their tea and fell silent, waiting for him to leave. 'I imagine you've heard from Scorpius about... his father and me...' She couldn't bring her self to say the words, not to another person. It was one thing to consider the prospect of leaving Draco in her own mind, but quite another to actually say it to someone else.
'A bit,' Ginny allowed. After Al had asked them if Scorpius could stay with them, she'd managed to rabbit more information from him about why Scorpius might need to run away to them.
'If he died,' Daphne began, 'it would negate the need to make any sort of decision about that.'
Ginny blinked. 'True.'
'But the thing is, I don't even know him well enough to decide whether or not I want to stay or leave...'
'How long have you been married?'
'Fifteen years in March.'
'How does an arranged marriage work?' Ginny asked.
Daphne gave her a wry smile. 'Most of the families that indulge in arranged marriages form a rather small social circle. So the children all know each other and when our families are together for parties or the like, the children are sent out into the garden to play. So we know each other on that level. If you're lucky, like my sister was, you marry someone you already like and respect. I wasn't so lucky. I didn't know Draco that well, and he's always been somewhat aloof and reserved with me. And that house is quite large; we can go through our entire day and only see each other at dinner.' She saw the question forming in Ginny's head and added, 'And we don't sleep in the same room...' Their meals arrived and Daphne idly stirred the large bowl of soup. 'It's just...'
'What?'
'Lately, he's been trying to at least talk to me and not at me.'
'That sounds like a good thing,' Ginny said helpfully.
'It does,' Daphne agreed. 'But...' She poked at her soup. 'What if he really is the cold and distant person I've lived with all this time? And what if I'm never able to find out what he's really like?'
'Is that what you want?' Ginny asked shrewdly.
Daphne sighed and reached for a bread roll. 'Yes. I think so. Because if he recovers, and I do decide to leave, I can do it with a clean conscience...' She tore the roll in half and buttered it. 'I don't usually talk like this to people I don't know very well,' she said apologetically. 'Ordinarily, I'd talk to Narcissa about something like this, but I couldn't very well do it this time. And well, Scorpius seems to like you a great deal...'
'He's a lovely young man,' Ginny said. She studied Daphne for a moment. 'It wouldn't be such an odd thing if you and I were friends,' she finally said. 'Since Al and Scorpius are so close...'
Daphne's eyes widened for a moment, and she hastily swallowed some of her soup. 'I'd like that,' she said quietly. She set the spoon down and pushed the chair back. 'I should go. I told Narcissa I'd be home as soon as the Healers had any news.' She rummaged in her coat pocket for some gold but Ginny waved it away.
'Don't worry about it.'
'Oh... Well, thank you.' Daphne walked to the fireplace and dropped a handful of Knuts into the box next to an urn of Floor powder and vanished in a swirl of bright green flames.
Ginny finished her meal and slipped outside to Apparate to Godric's Hollow. She could see Harry through a kitchen window, leaning against the counter, a glass of milk in one hand, while he dug into the biscuit tin with the other. She walked into the quiet house and went directly to him, tugging the glass from his hand and setting it on the counter behind him. 'Oh, hi!' Harry said, just as her mouth landed on his. She wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. 'What did I do to deserve that?' Harry said, slightly breathless.
'I love you,' Ginny said, wholly aware of how lucky she was.
Scorpius prodded the now-cold casserole on his plate. He'd started reading The War Against the Dark Lord during a free period earlier that day. It gave him chills and he wondered if he'd have nightmares later. The chapter he'd managed to read detailed the life of Tom Riddle. By the time Scorpius had reached the section regarding the physical changes Riddle wrought on himself, Scorpius was nauseated by the idea someone would willingly undergo such obviously painful transformations. 'Are you going to eat that?' James asked, indicating Scorpius' still-full plate with his knife.
'No, you can have it,' Scorpius said, pushing his plate across the table.
'Brilliant.' James pointed his wand at the plate. 'Fervefacio.' Steam rose from the casserole and James forked a bite into his mouth. 'Mmmmm. So much better when it's reheated...'
'Isn't that your mother's owl?' Al pointed to a tawny owl winging through the Great Hall.
'Yeah...' Scorpius gazed at the owl in bemusement. His mother wrote to him on a fairly regular basis, but her letters usually came during breakfast on Saturday. To receive a letter on a Tuesday evening did not bode well. Cherise landed on the table in front of him and held her leg out. 'Thanks,' he told her, and offered his goblet of pumpkin juice. She dipped her beak into it for several long moments, then nibbled his fingers and launched herself from the table, soaring between the floating candles. He broke the seal on the envelope and let the parchment fall into his hand. 'This isn't from Mother,' he muttered. 'It's from Grandmother.'
'That can't be good,' Rose commented.
Scorpius scanned the short note quickly. His lips compressed and he stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and shoved it into his schoolbag. 'It's not,' he told Rose shortly.
'Your mum finally do your dad in?' Al said jokingly. He flinched when Madeline smacked his arm. 'Ow... I'm not a Quaffle, Maddie...'
'That wasn't funny, Albus,' Madeline said reprovingly.
'Not yet,' Scorpius said. 'But it's only January,' he quipped in an attempt to defuse the tension. 'It's just dragon pox.'
'Who's got dragon pox?' Parker asked, plopping at the Gryffindor table, peering at his cousins. 'I thought you lot already had it.'
'We haven't,' Hugo piped up.
'That's because Aunt Hermione's Muggle-born,' Parker told him. 'If you have Muggle parents or a Muggle-born parent, you won't get dragon pox.'
'I haven't had it,' Scorpius said.
'How'd you manage that?' Al asked.
'Dunno.'
'Scorpius' dad has it,' Isabella murmured to Parker.
Parker whistled through his teeth. 'He's kind of old for it, isn't he?' He yelped and jumped, glaring at Isabella while he rubbed his ankle.
'What's wrong with getting it when you're older?' Scorpius asked.
'It just takes longer to recover,' Isabella said smoothly, patting Scorpius on the back, shaking her head at Parker.
'Oh...' Scorpius swung his feet over the bench. 'Don't wait up,' he said to Al. 'Got detention with Williams tonight.'
'What'd you do?' Lily asked in surprise. Scorpius rarely got detention.
'Nothing, really. Just left my bag where Geoffery could trip over it. And he landed face-first into Rosie's perfectly brewed Swelling Solution...' A beatific smile spread over his face. 'It was brilliant...' He drifted through the door, waving energetically at Geoffery, sitting at the Slytherin table, his nose still several times too large.
'Why'd you kick me?' Parker demanded, giving Isabella a hard shove.
'Because he doesn't need to know it could kill his father,' she retorted, returning the shove.
'Because you think he might actually want it?' James said through a mouthful of beef and mushrooms.
Madeline rolled her eyes. 'Did you and Al misplace your tact this morning?'
'Why deny him something that might make him happy?' James muttered.
'Shut it, James,' Lily hissed. 'That's not nice.'
'Well, neither is his father,' James said, pointing his fork at his sister. 'Not everybody's like Dad or Uncle Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, or Ron.' Neville happened to walk by, handing out a few detention notices to some fifth years, Eric clinging to his back, chattering happily in his ear. 'Or Neville,' he added.
'I know that,' Lily huffed.
'Well,' James said with a shrug, returning to his dinner. 'It might not be a bad thing if his father doesn't recover...'
Harry left the conference room, trailing three burly Hit Wizards and one confused elderly man. 'It's not Calvin Houghly,' he told Carolina.
'But you haven't even looked at his memories,' she said, pointing to the vial in Harry's hand.
'He told us to use Legilimency,' Harry said. 'And when we asked for his memories, he didn't even raise a fuss about it. Told me he was an open book. There's nothing that I could see that would indicate his memory's been tampered with. But I'll look at this later, just to make sure,' he added, tucking the vial into his shirt pocket. He walked down the corridor to another conference room and opened the door. 'Good morning, Mr. Sampson,' he said genially.
'Would you mind telling me why these fine gentlemen dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn?' Kieran Sampson growled.
Harry set the files on the table and took a chair across from him. 'As I'm sure you're aware, there's been a rise in the number of Muggle-baitings the past few years,' he began neutrally.
'Been all over the papers,' Sampson grunted. 'Could hardly miss it.'
Harry's eyes narrowed as he met the older man's gaze. 'I'm going to need to ask you a few things,' he said levelly. 'If you choose to cooperate, it will make this go much more smoothly. If you choose to resist, it won't be pleasant for you.' He nodded at the three Hit Wizards surrounding them. They each had their wands trained on Sampson.
'You don't have any proof,' he objected.
'That's why you're here,' Harry said calmly. 'If you are innocent, then you shouldn't have a problem letting me see it.' He set a tiny vial on the table. 'Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can take the Veritaserum or I'll use Legilimency on you.' He set an empty vial on the table next to the Veritaserum. 'And we'll also want your memories.'
'Don't want much do you?' Sampson scoffed.
'Not really,' Harry replied.
'You can't make me do this,' Sampson stated.
'No,' Harry admitted. 'But I've got all the time in the world. I can wait for you to comply voluntarily. Or I can go to the Minister and have him order you to. Your choice.' Under the table, he jerked his wrist once, shaking his wand from his sleeve. It slid into the palm of his hand, and he closed his fingers around the handle. He leaned back in the chair, the picture of repose.
Sampson crossed his arms over his chest and glared unblinkingly at Harry. Harry waited, tamping down his impatience. He could hear the minutes tick by softly on his watch. Harry felt a small smile play on his lips. Go ahead... Try to intimidate me... I've had Darker wizards than you try and fail...
Sampson suddenly lunged for one of the Hit Wizards' wands. Under the table, Harry's wand sliced through the air and a Stunning spell slammed into Sampson's knees. He fell forward across the table. 'Sorry, Harry,' one of the Hit Wizards murmured. 'Moves pretty fast for an old bugger...'
'Happens sometimes,' Harry said, flicking his wand at Sampson. Ropes bound him to the chair. 'I'm going to revive him,' he warned. 'Ennervate.' Sampson's eyes opened and Harry nudged the vial of Veritaserum toward a Hit Wizard. 'Could you help Mr. Sampson swallow that, please?'
'Can't make me swallow it,' Sampson ground out between clenched teeth.
'No, but it's better if you cooperate,' Harry informed him, making notes in his file. He nodded to the Hit Wizard, and the man broke the wax seal around the mouth of the bottle, and tipped it toward Sampson's mouth. The clear potion ran past Sampson's tightly clamped lips and dribbled down his chin. He wiped his chin on the shoulder of his jumper.
'I'll give you high marks for trying, Potter,' Sampson chuckled.
'Well...' Harry sighed and shook his head a little sadly. 'Have it your way, then.' He pointed his wand at Sampson's head. 'Legilimens!' Harry felt his wand slip a little in his sweaty palm, and tightened his fingers around it. He could see Sampson in a pub talking to Joel Anderson, modifying the memories of the wizards and witches he'd Imperiused to carry out the actual Muggle-baitings. It made Harry feel filthy and he wasn't even delving that deeply into Sampson's mind. He pulled the wand away and slumped in his chair, panting slightly. He took a deep breath, then touched the tip of his wand to Sampson's temple. When he lifted the wand, several silvery threads were clustered thickly on Harry's wand. He tipped it into the empty vial. 'Kieran Sampson, you're under arrest for the Muggle-baitings that occurred on the following dates,' Harry recited, reading the list of days off his list. 'You are also charged with conspiracy to commit murder, as well as attempted murder. You have the right to receive representation from Ministry legal counsel, if you cannot afford your own. Do you have any questions?' Sampson stared at him, frothy bits of spittle dotting his lips. 'Very well. You can take him to Azkaban.' He let his eyes drop to the top of the table and sat there long after the Hit Wizards had removed Sampson for transport to Azkaban, his mind reeling with the fact it was, at last, done. Harry took a deep breath and let his head fall to the table, his shoulders slumped in unreserved relief.
'What are you doing?' Ginny asked, watching Harry roll a vial between his palms, the bright silvery light throwing shadows over his face.
'Did you know Lucius Malfoy had a sister?' he asked idly, staring at the contents of the vial. 'Lavinia.'
Ginny slid into a battered armchair in front of the fireplace. 'No.'
'She dated your uncle.'
'Which one?'
'Fabian.'
To his surprise, Ginny burst out laughing. 'You're joking! There is no way a Malfoy would have had anything to do with one of Mum's brothers. The pureblood and a blood traitor?' She held the stitch in her side and gasped for air. 'Oh, blimey, Harry, that's one of the funniest things I've heard in ages...'
'It's true,' he informed her. 'She's my next case.'
'All right, then, where is she?' Ginny scoffed lightly.
A wry smile twisted Harry's mouth. 'That's what I need to find out.' He set the vial on his desk, next to a row of five others.
'What are those?' Ginny asked.
'Memories. Of the day your uncles were killed.'
Ginny slid out of the chair and went around Harry's desk, perching on the edge of his desk. 'Why is that germane to -- Lavinia, is it?'
'She was there,' Harry said pensively.
'Oh.' Ginny's entire body noticeably stiffened.
'What?' Harry asked?
'Did she have something to do with it?' she asked tightly.
One of Harry's brows rose slowly. 'What makes you think she was involved?'
'Because it would have been perfect... She could infiltrate the Order...'
'What sort of books have you been reading lately?' Harry snorted. 'And haven't you been the one that's been telling me for ages to stop judging someone just because they have the last name of Malfoy?'
'Yes, well, but Scorpius wasn't present at the murder of a family member,' Ginny maintained stubbornly.
'That's what I'm going to try and find out,' Harry told her. He picked up the vial containing Lavinia's memory and balanced it in the palm of one hand. 'Something's off about this one,' he murmured.
'What do you mean?'
Harry picked up another vial and held them up. 'This one is Remus'.' He tilted the vial a little, making the contents shift fluidly inside. 'See it? How it flows inside? How clear and bright it is?' His palm closed around it and he tipped Lavinia's to the side. 'See how sluggish this one is? Like treacle. And the light's dim. It flickers when it ought to glow.' He set both vials down on the desk. 'I've seen what a corrupted memory looks like,' he said thoughtfully. 'And it wasn't quite like that...' He sighed and gathered the vials, stowing them in one of his desk drawers. 'Are you hungry?'
'Not really,' Ginny said. 'You?'
'No.' Harry rose from the chair, and took Ginny's hand. He pulled her off the desk and settled in the armchair she'd abandoned, tugging her down so she snuggled against him. 'I think I'd like to stay like this for a while.'
'Before something else comes up?'
'Yeah...'
SIXTY -- Cold Enough to Burn
Victoire dashed up the stairs, her heavy bag bumping against her back. She jabbed her wand at Teddy's door, and darted inside, closing it with her foot. She dropped her bag in front of the door and let her coat fall on top of it. 'Oof!' Teddy all but ran into her.
'How much time have you got?' he asked, gathering her jumper in his hands.
'Four hours,' she breathed, unbuckling his belt.
'Oh, that's plenty of time.' Teddy pulled the jumper over Victoire's head.
Victoire tipped her head back and smiled. 'But what are we going to do with the remaining three hours and fifty-five minutes?'
'Having doubts about my stamina already?' Teddy mock-growled.
'Prove me wrong,' Victoire challenged.
'Is that a dare?' he asked, towing Victoire toward his bedroom.
'Of course it is.' Victoire let got of Teddy's hands long enough to pull off her trainers off. By the time she'd caught up with him, he'd already undressed down to his boxers and was kicking his jeans across the floor.
'Catch up, eh? You're falling behind.'
Victoire lifted her head and peered at the alarm clock next to the bed. 'Impressive,' she murmured with a hum of pleasure, noting the amount of time that had passed.
Teddy lay facedown in a pillow. He didn't bother to raise his head as he patted Victoire blindly. 'Told you,' he groaned. He managed to roll over to his side and gazed sleepily at her. 'Just don't ask me to move any time soon.'
Victoire wriggled until she pressed against Teddy, wedging one knee between his thighs. 'I heard they caught the other person,' she began.
'Yeah.' Teddy's eyes hardened briefly. 'Kieran Sampson,' he spat. 'He helped train me,' he added in disgust. 'I'm going to go to his trial,' he said.
'When is it?'
'Couple of weeks.'
'Why do you want to go?' Victoire asked.
'To see it through to the end,' Teddy replied, toying with the ends of her hair. 'The idea that someone in my department could do something so awful... Sort of undermines any belief you might have in the integrity of people who lived through the last war.' He shook himself a little. 'Who are you shadowing tonight?' he asked in an effort to change the subject to something less dismal.
'Hmmmm. McGowan. On the magical bugs floor.'
'Sounds stimulating,' Teddy deadpanned.
'Oh, I don't know,' Victoire replied with a shrug. 'I've heard there's a man with a raging case of dragon pox in there now.'
'You mean a boy,' Teddy objected.
'No. I overheard McGowan discussing it with a few of the other trainees who actually want to specialize in magical bugs.' Victoire's pale red brows drew together in a frown as she recited the details. 'Male, age thirty-nine, was brought in Monday afternoon with a severe case of dragon pox. At that point, he'd been ill for five days. He's still running a fever -- thirty-eight degrees Centigrade -- even after two days of intravenous infusions of Fever Reducing Potions.'
'Ugh. Almost want to feel sorry for the poor blighter.'
'Yeah. McGowan says it's almost like he doesn't want to get better, because most people, even adults with bad cases like this, usually aren't contagious after a week. But he's under all sorts of quarantines and there're loads of procedures about what you're to do after you do anything with him.'
'So he's dying?'
Victoire shrugged. 'Could be.'
'Do you know who it is?'
'No. I haven't been on the second floor yet this week.'
'Wonder if it's someone we know...'
'Could be anybody...' Victoire shifted and pressed her mouth to side of Teddy's neck. 'Have a quiz tomorrow on anatomy... Help me revise for it.... I'll make it worth your while.'
'Okay...' Teddy pulled away from Victoire a little. 'Bones?'
'All right.' Teddy reached down and traced a finger up Victoire's shin. 'Tibia,' she murmured.
'And...' His hand drifted higher.
'Femur...'
'What about this?'
'That's not a bone,' Victoire said primly.
'But what is it?' Teddy teased.
Victoire looked down at him and sniffed, 'Gluteus maximus.'
Teddy wound his hand through her hair and pulled her mouth down to his. Any thoughts of revision were quickly banished to the side.
Draco wandered through King's Cross, looking for the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. When he finally managed to find it, he pushed through the barrier, not caring who saw him. The platform was empty, but shrouded heavily in fog, reminiscent of the day he'd put Scorpius on the train for the first time. He looked around and found a bench against the wall and settled on it, leaning against the wall, ignoring the rough brick against his back. Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the silence.
'You've always been annoyingly obstinate.'
'And your point?'
'You also always choose the path of least resistance, because it's easier than trying to do something unexpected.'
Draco cracked an eyelid and promptly closed it when he saw who sat next to him. 'Why do you care?'
'I don't. Not particularly.'
Draco let his shoulders slump. 'I'm so tired,' he admitted. 'I'm tired of feeling as if I ought to apologize for the way things have turned out.'
'So why don't you?'
'Why don't I... what?'
'And I thought Potter was thick. Why don't you apologize?'
'Because the list is long and apologizing to some people would be nothing short of humiliating.'
'Your decision, then.' Draco heard the bench creak as the other person rose. 'Live or die, you have to, well, live with it, if you'll pardon the expression.'
'That's what I'm afraid of,' Draco murmured, listening to the other person walk away. He opened his eyes just as the form of Severus Snape disappeared into the billowing fog. 'I could just stay here,' he muttered. 'Not decide anything...'
Harry opened the vial with Remus' memory. He'd read the report and figured he could do with only using three of the memories -- Remus', because he thought it was less likely to be colored by a strong opinion one way or the other; Dorcas Meadowes', since she was the last person to have seen Lavinia alive; and Lavinia's own memory.
He tipped the open vial over the Pensieve, lowered his face into it.
He found himself in a sun-dappled meadow. Late summer sun streaked over the grass, waving in the breeze. 'It's too quiet,' Harry murmured. Birds should have been singing, but the only sound he heard was the whisper of the wind through the trees bordering the meadow. He turned to see three men clustered around two bodies lying in the grass, their sightless eyes staring up into the sky. A woman huddled on the grass next to one of the men, one arm thrown across his chest, and her face buried in his shoulder.
Harry edged around Fabian, and crouched to examine Lavinia's scraped and bloodied hands. She stared at the button of Fabian's shirt under her nose with dull eyes, oblivious to the conversation flying over their heads. She burrowed into Fabian, her fingers stroking the skin under his jaw. Frank reached down and attempted to hoist her in his arms, and it was quite clear Lavinia was unwilling to leave Fabian's side. She whimpered, clinging tighter to Fabian. Remus pried her hands away and Lavinia's eyes rolled into the back of her head, as she fell into unconsciousness. Mad-Eye and Sirius conjured stretchers for Fabian and Gideon, flicking their wands at them, thin ropes gently settling over Fabian and Gideon, binding them to the stretchers. Sirius reached up with a trembling hand and delicately closed Gideon's eyes, letting his hand rest briefly against Gideon's cheek, before he wrapped his fingers around the rope over Gideon's chest.
The scene faded into grey mist as the group Disapparated
Harry dove from the Pensieve and stared meditatively into the rippling silver surface. He used his wand to gather the strands of Remus' memory and neatly decanted them back into the vial.
He picked up Dorcas' vial and poured her memory into the Pensieve, following it as the last bit of the silvery strands disappeared into it. He hung back in the background, choosing to merely observe and not insinuate himself into the action this time.
Frank carried Lavinia into Dorcas' small cottage and followed Dorcas into a small bedroom and lowered the unconscious woman onto the bed she'd turned down. 'Do you want me to send Alice to help get her settled?' he asked softly, as if he'd wake Lavinia up if he spoke too loudly.
'No, thank you. I can handle it.'
'Right.' Frank gestured to the woman lying on the brightly-patterned quilt. 'What will you do if she doesn't wake up soon?'
'I'll send word if I need something. Better get home before Alice starts to worry.'
Frank nodded and strode out of the cottage, leaving Dorcas alone with Lavinia. Dorcas went to a cupboard and rummaged through it, emerging with several vials, gauze, and a couple of face cloths. She waved her wand over Lavinia, murmuring spells, checking her over for further injury. Dorcas nodded in satisfaction that Lavinia wasn't seriously hurt, and filled a basin with warm water, and dipped a face cloth into it. She swabbed the face cloth over Lavinia's palms, cleaning the worse of the dried blood from them, then dabbed the scrapes with a dark green potion. Dorcas Vanished the water from the basin, then refilled it, and swiped a clean face cloth over Lavinia's face, cleaning the smudges of dirt and tearstains. Finally, she drew her wand down the length of Lavinia's body, changing her robes for a clean nightdress, then draped the quilt over her.
The scene shifted and swirled around Harry. He wondered how much time had passed when he heard Dorcas speaking in her fireplace.
'...three days now, Alice. I don't want to take her to the hospital, it's too risky.'
'Maybe we can have Madam Pomfrey come down and examine her?' Alice Longbottom asked anxiously. 'Once she's awake, the Order can actually figure out what to do with her.'
'I'll send an owl to Dumbledore tomorrow.' Dorcas pulled her head from the fire and pushed herself to her feet. She went into the kitchen and presently returned carrying a tray of tea and toast. She passed by the bedroom Lavinia occupied, but something made her go back to the door. Perhaps it was the sound of the sea. It seemed louder than it had before. Dorcas pushed the door open a bit wider. The bed was empty and the small door that led to the garden creaked softly in the early morning breeze. The tray slipped from Dorcas' hands and the teapot shattered on the polished floor. Dorcas ran into the garden, looking wildly through the riot of flowers and herbs. 'She didn't have a wand... Where could she have gone...?' Dorcas slowly turned and gazed at the cliffs, her eyes widening. 'Oh... No...' she breathed, blundering through the gate and pelting to the edge of the cliff. She fearfully looked over the edge, her heart in her throat, but the shore below was empty. She pulled her wand from the sleeve of her robes and closed her eyes, swinging the wand in a wide arc. A silver wren took flight, lost in the morning sun. Within minutes, she was joined by Frank and Alice Longbottom.
'What do you mean, "she's gone"?' Frank demanded.
'After I finished talking to Alice, I made some tea and toast. When I passed by the room where she was sleeping, something didn't feel right, so I took a peek inside and she was gone!' Dorcas huffed.
'We'll split up,' Alice said calmly. 'Do you have a copy of the Sunday Prophet from, oh, two weeks ago?' she asked Dorcas.
'I think so. In the kitchen, next to the owl perch...'
Frank started to say something, but Alice held up a hand, shushing him. 'There's a photograph of her at some society do. We ought to have one, so we can ask people in the village if they've seen her.'
'Yeah, I remember seeing that article,' Dorcas murmured. She darted into the cottage and returned carrying torn-out portion of the newspaper.
'Brilliant, 'Alice said, performing a Freezing charm on the photograph, so the figures no longer moved. 'Dorcas, you go to the village and Frank and I will search up here.'
Harry followed Dorcas to the village, while she fruitlessly asked dozens of people if they'd seen the woman in the photograph. It seemed hopeless until finally one woman nodded.
'Yeh, she run intah me this mornin'. Lost me wand, too.'
'Did you find it?' Dorcas inquired.
'Nah. She migh've ta'en th' wand. 'Twasn't in th' street when she Disapparated.'
'Are you quite certain she Disapparated?'
'Can' mistake it, luv. Loud crack an' all.' The woman cocked an eyebrow at Dorcas. 'Yeh know her, then?'
'She's a cousin,' Dorcas lied smoothly. She dug into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a money bag. She shook out several coins and handed them to the woman. 'To replace your wand.'
'It's no' necessary,' she objected.
'It is,' Dorcas insisted. She folded the photograph and stuffed it into her pocket. 'Thank you...' She trudged back to her cottage.
Harry blinked and stepped out of the Pensieve, feeling as if he was going to hit countless dead ends. 'She could have gone anywhere or done anything with a wand...'
In spite of the cold, Scorpius settled on what he'd come to consider as "his" bench in a secluded alcove of the courtyard. He pulled the large book from his bag and opened it to where he'd marked his place with a worn quill. He'd avoided reading this chapter for several days, as it was concerned with his grandfather's involvement in the first war. Avoiding it wasn't going to make it suddenly disappear. He took a deep breath and with the sensation that he was about to do something unpleasant, he began to read the first page of the chapter dealing specifically with Lucius Malfoy.
While Lucius Malfoy was not considered one of Lord Voldemort's most ardent supporters -- that title belongs to Bellatrix Lestrange -- he was one of his most loyal. His activities during the first war are somewhat murky. Many of instances of tortures and Muggle-baitings cannot be immediately attributed to Malfoy, as he maintained during his trial that he had been operating under an Imperius curse. However, the trials of Death Eaters convicted in the days after Voldemort's disappearance in nineteen eighty-one contained testimony that Malfoy orchestrated some of the more heinous instances of Muggle-baiting, Muggle-born witch and/or wizard torture, as well as the death or disappearance of members of the Order of the Phoenix. Malfoy vehemently denied all allegations, including those that claimed he was not only a member of the Death Eaters, but that he belonged to Voldemort's inner circle of supporters.
In the interim between the first and second wizarding wars, many people believed Malfoy was able to dodge the complaints and allegations lodged against him by bribing Ministry officials, most notably, Cornelius Fudge. When those charges were investigated, Malfoy and Fudge both claimed that Malfoy merely donated sums of money to St. Mungo's. An examination of St. Mungo's financial records for the period between nineteen ninety and nineteen ninety-six, Fudge's tenure as Minister of Magic, reveal no donations made in either the name of Fudge, nor Malfoy. In fact, during Malfoy's trial after the second war, he admitted to bribing Fudge, with a promise that more gold would follow, if Fudge would maintain the status quo. Fudge himself corroborated this assertion, and confessed to taking the aforementioned bribes.
After the first war, Malfoy kept a clandestine collection of Dark objects in the dungeon of his Wiltshire mansion, hidden under the drawing room floor. Occasionally, Malfoy managed to sell off a few of items from time to time when rumors of Ministry raids reached his attentions, but the majority of them were not discovered until after he was imprisoned in Azkaban in June of nineteen ninety-six, following a pitched battle between Malfoy, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Walden Macnair, Augustus Rookwood and six students from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -- Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Weasley (née Granger), Neville Longbottom, Luna Scamander (née Lovegood), and Ginny Potter (née Weasley) in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Occasionally, Malfoy was known to foist off Dark artifacts on unsuspecting witches or wizards, then tipping off the Ministry in an anonymous note the said witch or wizard possessed an illegal object.
Malfoy's involvement in Voldemort's activities lessened considerably during his imprisonment. His son, Draco, was hand-picked by Voldemort to replace him. (The younger Malfoy's activities as a Death Eater shall be addressed in a following chapter.) He was released from Azkaban by Voldemort following the death of Albus Dumbledore, along with his other cohorts from the Department of Mysteries.
By all accounts, the following year was one of endless humiliations and degradations for Malfoy. His home was taken over as the headquarters of the Death Eaters and parts of it were heavily damaged due to skirmishes that took place there. Wandless, due to his wand being appropriated by Voldemort, and subsequently destroyed in the battle to capture Harry Potter when the Order of the Phoenix removed him from his former home, Malfoy was unable to do participate in the subsequent capture of the Ministry. Indeed, many historians believe he was a near-prisoner of his own home.
The question that rests uneasily in most people's minds is how Malfoy avoided a lengthy prison term, unlike the other surviving Death Eaters. By all accounts, his behavior preceding the second war certainly deserved one, and yet, he remained free, albeit under heavy surveillance by Aurors, a surveillance that continued for many years, even after he and his wife relocated to Nice. At the time of Malfoy's trial, a large, quite vocal group, protested Malfoy's lack of a prison sentence. Harry Potter, the primary witness in Malfoy's trial, insisted a prison sentence of any length would be merely gilding the proverbial lily. Malfoy had no wand, and part of the conditions of his probation mandated he not acquire one, so he was unable to Apparate and was confined to either subjecting himself to Side-Along Apparition -- a most injurious mode of transport to a fully-trained wizard -- or utilizing the Floo network or a Portkey. The latter two forms of travel are hardly furtive, considering the Floo can be scrutinized and Portkeys need Ministry approval. Potter argued that the stipulations of Malfoy's probation -- the prohibitions on travel, who he could see, rendering him unable to perform magic -- all but rendered Malfoy a virtual prisoner.
Scorpius slowly closed the book, and stared sightlessly at the part of the courtyard that was visible from his perch. His right hand brushed over the inside of his left forearm. The article had been accompanied by a sketch of the Dark Mark. The memory of the one time he'd seen the inside of his own father's arm stood out in stark relief. Had Draco willingly accepted the Mark or had he been forced? The desire to discover the truth clawed at him, but he resolutely shoved the book into his bag and wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the snowflakes that fell with almost agonizing slowness. He didn't hear Al slide onto the bench next to him. 'Makes you feel a bit queer, doesn't it?' Al said idly. 'Like you're looking at something you oughtn't, but you can't make yourself look away.'
'Yeah.'
Harry rolled Lavinia's memory between his palms, the vial clicking softly as it came in contact with his wedding ring, feeling the liquid inside shift and roll unevenly. He shifted the Pensive so it sat squarely in the middle of his desk, and cracked the wax seal of the vial with his thumbnail. He steadily poured the viscous fluid into the Pensieve, ignoring his inner qualms. Instead of merging gracefully with the contents of the Pensieve, it swirled in a chain of clotted disarray. Harry gently nudged it with his wand, but it refused to integrate smoothly into the rest of the liquid. He began to lower his face into the Pensieve, but Ginny's voice from the doorway made him pause, nose hovering a bare inch from the surface. 'Are you sure you want to do that?' she asked nervously. It had been years since he heard any sort of uncertainty regarding his job in her voice.
He glanced up at her over the rims of his glasses. 'Not really,' he confessed, sitting back in the chair. 'It looks more than a bit dodgy,' he said, prodding the memory once more with his wand.
Ginny moved to the desk and waved her wand, conjuring a chair. 'Do you want me to go in with you?'
Harry grabbed her hand. 'Yes, but I'd think I'd like you to stay here. I don't know what could happen with that in there...' He felt Ginny stiffen under the implications of his statement. 'To pull me out in case something goes wrong,' he added. 'I should have asked Teddy about all this before I jumped in. Knows more about these things than I do,' Harry said ruefully.
'Well, seeing as how I don't think tying a rope to your ankle will work, how much time should I give you before intervening?'
'Five minutes...' Harry suggested. 'Maybe ten...'
'All right.'
Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, shuddering when the tip of his nose met the surface of the liquid coiled in the Pensieve. Normally, the liquid was the temperature of his skin, but this was cold, nearly frigid. If he'd been expecting a complete memory, he was mistaken. Harry could hardly hear what was said over what sounded like his pulse pounding in his ears. He was inside the Malfoy mansion. Someone's bedroom to be exact. He turned slowly, and saw Lavinia in front of a mirror, carefully teasing the knots out of her hair, dressing for the day. She was already clad in the formal robes that the older generations of old wizarding families favored when the door burst open and Lucius strode into the bedroom. Harry strained to hear what he said, but he could only catch bits of the words through the rush of blood in his ears. Lucius was obviously furious about something. He held his wand under his sister's chin, screaming something about a blood-traitor. Spittle dotted Lucius' lips, his face was red, and the tendons of his neck stood out above the high collar of his robes. Harry had never seen Lucius lose control like that. Not even during his trial.
Lucius' wand slashed through the air, and Lavinia's eyes widened and the pulse in Harry's ears grew more rapid. Her mouth moved, but Harry realized she was no longer able to speak. Lucius had set a Silencing charm on her. Lucius reached out and grabbed her arm, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Harry was sure he'd left a bruise on her arm.
The memory swirled around Harry and presently, he stood in a clump of trees next to Lucius and Lavinia. Lucius held her wrists behind her back, his fingers biting into her flesh. She tried to pull her wrists from Lucius' grip, but he merely squeezed harder, yanking her back against him. The tip of his wand pressed into the skin under her jaw as he spun them around toward a clearing. 'You will... watch... die,' Lucius gloated. Lavinia's mouth was open as she sobbed silently, hair sticking to her wet cheeks. The eerily silent weeping made Harry feel as if he'd been kicked in the groin. It was painful to watch. The memory jumped and Lavinia fell to the ground on her hands and knees, head bowed against the sight of Gideon and Fabian's still bodies marring the pastoral scene below. Lucius' fingers wound through her hair, wrenching her head back, speaking in a low tone that Harry couldn't hear under the roaring in his ears.
Hoarse weeping filled the meadow, loud in Harry's ears, even though he knew from Remus' memory, the sound could barely be heard under the rustling of the grass and leaves in the wind. The next thing Harry knew, Lavinia had managed to make her way down the steep hill. Vivid smudges of blood streaked over her face, where she'd swiped her hands over her cheeks, mixing with the tears that were already there. The memory telescoped to a mere pinprick, consisting of Fabian Prewett.
Harry felt an insistent tug on the back of his shirt and let himself fall backward from the Pensieve. He met Ginny's eyes, wide and dark with fear. 'You wouldn't come out,' she said shakily. 'It's almost like you were trapped in there...'
Harry shook his head slowly, stunned by what he'd seen.
Victoire deftly changed the empty potion bottle for a full one in the rack floating above Draco's bed, then recorded the time on his chart. She wrinkled her nose at the sour scent of sweat emanating from the man lying in the bed, then her head flew up in recognition. She waved her wand over his head, comparing the temperature that hovered over his head to the one on her chart. She looked down at Draco and lightly ran a fingertip over his sweat-glazed face. His eyes opened, he blinked at her bemusedly for several moments, then said in a ragged ghost of a voice, 'Is this unexpected enough for you...?' His head lolled to the side as his eyes fluttered shut and he went back to sleep, his breathing slow and even in the still hospital room.
SIXTY ONE -- No More Than One Can Bear
Draco jerked his head away from the probing fingers the searched for something under his jaw. He opened his eyes, then immediately closed them to slits against the light of the lamp next to the bed. 'Well, look who's rejoined the living,' said a soft voice. A soft cloth blotted the tears that leaked from his eyes from the sting of the light. 'Would you like some water?'
Draco nodded and a straw nudged his cracked lips. He eagerly sipped the cold water, reveling in the feel of it sliding down his parched and sore throat. After what Draco felt was too short a time, the Healer pulled the straw out of his mouth. He whimpered, unashamed at doing so, at the loss of the water.
'You'll have to take it easy. You've not been able to eat or drink anything for nearly a week now. You won't want make yourself sick.'
Draco's face twisted in confusion. He blinked slowly several times, letting his eyes adjust to the light.
'You've had dragon pox.'
Draco nodded. I knew that...
'A very severe case, even for adults. We feared you were going to die.'
Draco nodded once.
'Your fever broke last night. And you ought to make a full recovery.'
'Where am I?' Draco rasped.
'St. Mungo's. Been here since Monday morning. It's now Thursday night,' the Healer supplied helpfully. She held the straw to Draco's lips again while he greedily sucked down the limited amount of water she allowed.
'How long do I have to stay here?' Draco asked hoarsely.
'A couple of more days. You can probably go home on Sunday or Monday at the earliest. But most likely Tuesday or Wednesday.'
'That's a long time,' Draco murmured.
'You'll be able to see your wife tomorrow,' the Healer told him. 'She's been here every day since she brought you here. Sits with you until we have to make her leave when visiting hours are over.'
Draco was beginning to visibly droop. 'Are you sure it was my... wife...?'
'If it was your mother, she was an infant when you were born,' the Healer chuckled. 'Said her name's Daphne.'
'Oh...'
The Healer straightened Draco's bedding and waved her wand at the lamp, dimming the light. She guided his hand to a small bronze plate set into the table next to the bed. 'Just press your fingers on this if you need anything. Someone will come see to you. Try and get some rest.'
'Thanks,' Draco muttered, rolling over onto his side and staring at the wall, waiting for sleep to overtake him once more.
Scorpius gazed at the scarlet canopy over his bed. Ever since he'd read the chapter about his grandfather he'd felt slightly ill, but Madam Pomfrey said there wasn't anything physically wrong with him. 'Al...?' he whispered. 'Albus...?' he hissed.
'Hmmmm?' Al pulled his head out from under his pillow.
'What was it like when you found out about your father?' Scorpius asked quietly.
'Oh...' Al sat up, wrapping his arms around his pillow. 'Confused. Like I'd been hit repeatedly in the stomach with a Beater's bat. Didn't know what to say. Thought I was going to puke, then cry. There was this man sitting in front of me that for my whole life was just my dad, then in less than an hour he was some bloody war hero who'd done more at the age of eleven than most fully-trained wizards. I had to make myself think about him as two different people. That other person, the one that defeated Voldemort wasn't my dad. He looked like him and had the same name, but it wasn't Dad.' Al paused and smoothed the wrinkles from the pillowcase. 'At least it wasn't the bloke I grew up with,' he added. 'Dad's never been one to talk about it. It's as if he'd like to forget it ever happened.'
'Do you wish you didn't know?'
Al fell backward, and propped his feet on the carved headboard, toes gripping the edge of it. 'No,' he said finally. 'When Dad got hurt last summer, knowing some of that made it easier to deal with.' He glanced over at Scorpius, sitting in the middle of his own bed, staring pensively at his toes. 'Do you wish you didn't know?'
'I don't know, to be honest.' He grinned crookedly. 'At least I know what I don't want to be like.'
Al snorted. 'You always knew that, git. It's just now you know why.'
'I suppose.'
Al flung his pillow back in place and scrambled under the bedding. 'Go to sleep. Otherwise you'll look like something the hippogriff dragged in at breakfast and Izzy'll hover.'
'Yeah, why do all the girls in your family do that...?'
Al snickered. 'Dunno. Even Mum does it, and she swears she doesn't.' He sobered and turned his head to look at Scorpius. 'I'm sorry you have to find out this way,' he said quietly.
Scorpius slid under the quilt and pulled it over his shoulders, taking care to hide his worn teddy in its folds. 'Yeah. So am I.'
Harry watched Ginny settle at the small desk he'd put in the office for her, once she'd become the Quidditch editor and needed a space to work that wasn't the kitchen table or his desk. Firelight glinted on her hair, making deep copper sparks glimmer in its lengths when she moved or tucked a stray lock behind an ear. His eyes closed and the image of Ginny frowning in concentration was replaced by the image of Lavinia Malfoy cradling Fabian Prewett's head in her hands, leaving bloody smears over his face while she closed his blank eyes. Harry's eyes popped open and he yanked his glasses off and dropped them on the scarred surface of his desk, then scrubbed his hands roughly over his face.
He had a tendency to work a case over and over in his mind, mulling over every detail in case something might have escaped his notice. While it was an excellent trait in an Auror, it often wrecked havoc on his personal life. Nightmares, cousins with frightened husbands, godsons writhing with guilt, sons retreating behind walls of silence and fear, daughters who were too young to view the world with such suspicion.
Without realizing that he'd moved, Harry found himself standing in front of the broom shed with his hand clamped around the handle of his Firebolt. He mounted the broom and kicked off the hard ground, streaking into the darkened skies. He turned into the woods behind the house, dodging tree branches with ease until he pulled up and shot through the trees, the ends of the bare twigs scratching at his face as he emerged from their canopy.
Harry hovered over the trees, letting his feet dangle, breathing in the achingly cold air, his fingers tapping impatiently on the broom handle. 'Right. She's not in the files for either the Order or the Ministry,' he murmured. 'People just don't drop off the face of the earth and nobody notices... Even Dean's father was in Muggle papers...' He trailed off, then smacked himself in the head. 'Of course! The one place I haven't looked! Bloody hell!' he bellowed, turning the broom back to the house, barely pulling up in time to avoid crashing spectacularly on the ground. 'I've got a bloody newspaper employee in my own bloody house!' He burst through the back door, making it hit the wall with a loud crash. He nearly bowled over Ginny, who'd come out of the office to investigate the noise.
'What's wrong?' she snapped, running for the kitchen, wand out, the tip already glowing with an arrested spell.
Harry reached out and grabbed her free arm. 'Nothing.'
Ginny's wand arm fell and she glared at Harry. 'Then do you mind explaining why you scared six years off me?'
'Does the Prophet keep an archive?'
'Of course. In the basement. Files are organized by year.'
Harry lifted Ginny off her feet and swung her in a circle, setting her down, before kissing her full on the mouth. 'Brilliant.'
'Why?'
'Well, if someone found an unidentified body, with a wand, don't you think it would have been in the paper?'
Ginny looked at Harry thoughtfully, before returning to the office. She picked up her quill before she looked at Harry over her shoulder. 'What makes you so certain she's dead? And what makes you think she's going to be in the wizarding paper?'
'I'm not,' Harry admitted. 'But there's bound to be something there. Whoever wrote the society column back then was bound to have noticed she wasn't at the next posh do. Or maybe there's something about her in the Muggle papers. Maybe she was found and, I dunno, claimed she couldn't remember anything,' he said desperately.
'How do you plan to research through the Muggle papers?' Ginny scoffed. 'There're loads of them. It could take months,' she pointed out.
'Or minutes,' Harry countered. 'If I look on a computer.'
Ginny's mouth turned down at the corners. While she had grown accustomed to certain Muggle devices like televisions, toasters, and telephones, the idea of a computer made her slightly uneasy. 'Where would you find one? One where you can be assured of your privacy?'
Harry's eyes darted to his desk and the drawer that held their seldom-used mobile. 'Dudley,' he pronounced triumphantly.
'What if she's not in the Muggle papers?' Ginny persisted.
Harry's smile faded. 'Then I'm back where I was...'
'It won't hurt to look, will it?' Ginny said quickly.
'No... It won't.' Ginny bit her lip at dashing Harry's hopes. She put her quill down and rose from the chair, wrapping her arms around his waist. Harry buried his face in her hair, rocking them slowly on their feet, whispering something Ginny couldn't quite hear. His head shifted and then she heard him. 'What if I can't find her...?'
Ginny's arms tightened and her head tipped back slightly. 'Then it'll feel like things of this sort did before the war,' she said. 'It doesn't make you a failure at your job. Narcissa surely knows how difficult it's going to be to find out anything. She'll have to see that even if the only thing you can tell her is what you found in those memories,' she said urgently.
Harry nodded. 'She could have gone anywhere, Transfigured her appearance, assumed a new name...' He snorted. 'Even lived as a Muggle.'
'That won't keep you from trying, though, will it?' Ginny asked, even though she already knew the answer.
'No.'
Draco watched Daphne sprawl in the chair in the corner of the hospital room, with a book propped on her knees. 'Why do you stay here?' he asked.
Her eyes flicked from the text and glanced at him over the edge of the book. 'I'm your wife,' she said, as if it explained everything.
Draco snorted. 'Do you think it would be unseemly if you weren't outwardly devoted to my care?' He folded his arms over his chest. 'I don't recall you ever having much use for convention. At least where I'm concerned.'
Daphne idly turned the page and continued to read. 'I'm not completely without regard for your health,' she said calmly. 'Did you think I was going to let you suffer?'
'They told me you were here every day.'
'I was.'
Gritting his teeth because Daphne hadn't completely answered any of his questions, Draco glared at her. 'You're infuriating,' he ground out.
'Thank you.'
'Have you reached a decision yet?' Draco continued. 'About our marriage?'
Daphne marked her place in the book with a ribbon and closed it, her movements slow and deliberate. 'No,' she said.
'Bloody hell, woman,' Draco hissed. 'How long does it take for you to make up your mind?'
Daphne set the book in the windowsill and straightened. 'I didn't want to talk about this until you'd recovered,' she began.
'They're letting me go home tomorrow,' Draco spat. 'I'm recovered.'
'I'd like for us to try and get to know each other,' she said. 'Before we consider attempting to dissolve our marriage contract.'
'What difference does that make?'
Daphne's eyes bored into Draco's. 'For myself, I would very much like to discover if you really are the coldhearted bastard I've known since I was eleven years old.' She picked up her handbag and book and stood, her expression softening a bit. 'But something tells me I don't know you at all.' She walked to the door and let her hand rest on the doorknob. 'I heard you talking to me through my bedroom door before you got sick,' she admitted, keeping her face toward the door. 'Talking about Scorpius.' Draco could see her shoulders draw back and she twisted the doorknob. 'I'll return in the morning with a change of clothes for you,' she said, as if she hadn't uttered her previous statement.
Draco gaped at the door as it closed behind Daphne. 'Get to know each other?' he repeated to the empty room. 'How am I supposed to go about doing that?'
Hermione sat at her desk in the sitting room, writing letters to Rose and Hugo. Hugo had dropped a few oblique hints during their holiday from school that they didn't receive much news from home. Ron was admittedly a terrible correspondent. Even now, time was something of a fluid concept to him. He often lost track of what day it was and the last time he sent a letter to the children. It hadn't surprised Hermione. He'd been the same way with his homework when they were in school.
She kept the tone of the letter light, glossing over her mother's condition. She'd taken them to visit Jane a few times over the holiday. It hadn't gone well. Rose and Hugo had squeezed themselves into one chair, wide-eyed and silent, unable to think of anything to say. Jane had been sleeping when they arrived. She roused several minutes into the visit and gazed blankly at the three of them, mumbling incoherently. Even Hermione was incapable to making out what Jane said anymore. Hermione and Ron had managed to deflect Rose's persistent questions about Jane, but Hermione didn't think Hugo had been fooled by their explanations that Jane was just under the weather. But he seemed to sense that his parents didn't want either him or Rose to be upset, so he held his suspicions to himself. As she sealed Hugo's letter, Hermione felt he might have guessed the truth of the matter, but as usual, didn't feel the need to discuss it until he'd worn the subject down to a nub. She slid Hugo's letter into the envelope where Rose's already rested and sealed the envelope. She went into the kitchen and began to attach the letter to their owl.
The mobile trilled shrilly from their bedroom. She could hear Ron jerk awake, muttering rude things about people who rang at ungodly hours before he went quiet, then answered the mobile. Hermione could hear his voice rumble as he spoke, husky with sleep. Suddenly he stood behind her and held the mobile out to her. 'Hermione...'
She sent the owl through the window, watching it disappear into the early morning sky until it was gone, then turned to Ron. She took the mobile from him with a soft intake of breath. 'Hello?' she said shakily, half-hoping it was one of the calls the nursing home made if Jane stubbed a toe. 'Of course. Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can. Yes. Thank you...' Hermione closed the mobile and gently laid it on the table. She looked at Ron and tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.
Ron nudged her toward the bathroom. 'Go get washed and changed,' he said softly. 'I'll call Mum and tell her we won't be at lunch today.' Hermione nodded and swallowed heavily. She stepped into Ron and wound her arms around his waist, clutching handfuls of the back of his t-shirt. They stood there for a moment, until Hermione forced herself to let go of Ron and tried to make her heart begin to accept what her brain had done weeks ago. 'I'll be right behind you,' Ron murmured.
She nodded and stumbled to the bathroom, tripping over the hems of her pajama bottoms. She quickly stripped off the t-shirt and let it fall to the floor while she twisted the tap and held her hand under the water, waiting for it to reach the scalding temperature she preferred. When the water was hot enough, Hermione pushed the pajama bottoms down her hips and kicked them aside. She snatched the face cloth draped over the edge of the tub and hastily washed. As she wrung out the face cloth, Hermione felt her chin tremble, and bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose. Don't have time for that,' she told herself sternly. You can do that later. She draped the face clothe over the edge of the bathtub to dry and pulled the shower curtain aside to find Ron leaning against the edge of the sink, holding a towel. 'Thank you,' she murmured, taking it and wrapping it around herself.
'I laid some clothes out for you,' Ron told her in a muffled voice as he began to pull his t-shirt over his head. 'They're on the bed,' he added, ducking into the shower.
'Thanks,' Hermione called over her shoulder sliding down the corridor, her still-damp feet skidding slightly on the polished wood floor. Ron had left her a pair of jeans and the new jumper she'd received from Molly that Christmas. He'd even put a Warming charm over them. Hermione pulled them on and found a pair of socks and her trainers. By the time she'd finished dressing, used her wand to dry her dripping hair, then bind the frizzled mess into a neat plait, Ron was already out of the shower and dressed, waiting for her by the bedroom door, his wand in hand.
'Ready?' he asked.
Hermione wanted to say, no, of course I'm not ready... but instead she nodded and took his hand in hers. He wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and turned her so she faced him. 'Let's go...' she muttered.
The sounds of gasping met Hermione's ears before she even entered Jane's room. They weren't the soft gasps of slumber, but harsh, greedy attempts to infuse oxygen into a body that was shutting down in stages. It made Hermione's chest ache in response. She stopped just outside the door, listening to shallow breaths, counting the space between each one, until Ron nudged her in the small of her back. She took a tentative step into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, her hands gently wrapping around Jane's feet. Even through the layers of bedding, the chill of Jane's feet startled Hermione. 'Mum,' she breathed, almost hoping the mere sound of her voice and the touch her hands would calm the labored breathing.
'Mrs. Weasley?' Hermione's head turned and she found one of the younger nurses standing next to her.
'Can we bring you anything? Some tea, perhaps? Or maybe a bit of breakfast?'
Hermione squinted at the young woman, searching through her memory for her name. What is it...? She's one of Mum's favorite nurses... 'No, thank you, Supriya.'
'If you need anything, just let one of us know.'
Hermione nodded, her eyes closing.
Ron grasped her shoulders and steered her to a chair. 'Let's sit down, eh?' he suggested. The sounds weren't what unnerved him. It was the way Jane seemed to have collapsed on herself, the way her cheeks hollowed and her lips folded into a thin line. He lugged another chair across the floor, wincing at the discordant screech it made as the legs dragged across the linoleum floor. Doing some mental calculations, he realized while his own parents were less than ten years younger than Jane, but seventy wasn't even considered old by wizarding standards. Dying before the age of one hundred was an early death, and a witch or wizard wasn't even seen as elderly until they'd reached one hundred and twenty.
He picked up Hermione's cold hand, and began to chafe it gently between his hands, trying to warm it. He'd not seen a great deal of death by old age in his relatively short life, aside from Auntie Muriel -- and that had been greeted with more relief than genuine grief from the rest of the family -- and Kreacher. He supposed he could add Dumbledore to his list, but didn't, since he hadn't died a natural death. It was a strangely pleasant sensation to witness a death that wasn't surrounded by violence.
Hermione huddled in what seemed like numb paralysis, unable to tear her eyes away from her mother. Ron could hear her counting the pace of Jane's breaths. In, one, two. Pause. Out, one, two, three... The pause between her inhalations and exhalations gradually grew longer.
At some point that morning, a trio of nurses gently shooed them into the corridor. They closed the door, and Hermione leaned against the wall on the opposite side, glaring at the door, until it opened again, and the younger one slipped out. 'You can come back in now,' she said. It was apparent they had tidied Jane's hair and changed her pajamas. They'd smoothed the bedding and tucked it around her. The three women stood clustered at the foot of Jane's bed, their hands lightly resting on top of the cheery quilt. Supriya, the youngest one, blinked back tears. It seemed to be an unspoken signal for them to take their leave.
Hermione returned to her chair. She leaned forward until her head rested on the edge of the pillow. 'It's all right, Mum,' she whispered. 'You can go. Dad's waiting for you.' Her eyes drifted shut and a tear slid out of the corner of one eye and into her hair.
Jane's breathing slowed and grew shallower until it seemed as if her chest no longer rose and fell. 'Mione... I don't think she's breathing...' Ron said in a hoarse murmur.
Hermione lifted her head and stared at her mother, as if she could make her breathe with sheer force of will. After several tense moments, Hermione shook her head. 'No, see? Look...' Jane's chest rose and fell imperceptibly. Ron joined her in the intense staring. Waiting. Hermione's hand pressed against Jane's throat, just under her jaw. She reached for one of Ron's hands. 'See if you can feel a pulse,' she demanded, placing his fingers where hers had been.
Ron waited for several moments, then shook his head. 'I can't feel anything,' he said. He eased out of his chair and darted into the corridor. One of the nurses was walking toward him. 'I think she's...' He trailed off and gestured to Jane's room. The nurse hurried into the room, pulling a stethoscope from the pocket of her scrubs. She fitted the earpieces into her ears and rested the round disc of the chestpiece against the front of Jane's pajamas. She listened intently, then straightened slowly.
'She's gone...'
A/N: It's been a long time since I've felt the need to leave out chocolate for everyone... And Steph requested Oreos...
SIXTY TWO -- Grieving the Inevitable
Hermione lifted her head and stared at her mother, as if she could make her breathe with sheer force of will. After several tense moments, Hermione shook her head. 'No, see? Look...' Jane's chest rose and fell imperceptibly. Ron joined her in the intense staring. Waiting. Hermione's hand pressed against Jane's throat, just under her jaw. She reached for one of Ron's hands. 'See if you can feel a pulse,' she demanded, placing his fingers where hers had been.
Ron waited for several moments, then shook his head. 'I can't feel anything,' he said. He eased out of his chair and darted into the corridor. One of the nurses was walking toward him. 'I think she's...' He trailed off and gestured to Jane's room. The nurse hurried into the room, pulling a stethoscope from the pocket of her scrubs. She fitted the earpieces into her ears and rested the round disc of the chestpiece against the front of Jane's pajamas. She listened intently, then straightened slowly.
'She's gone...'
If Ron expected Hermione to break into paroxysms of hysterical sobbing, he was wrong. She exhaled on a shuddering moan and buried her face into her folded arms on the edge of Jane's bed. 'Hermione?' Ron asked softly. She peeped at him over the crook of her elbow.
'I'm all right.' She inhaled deeply and sat up. 'I'm all right,' she repeated. Hermione slid the chair back a bit and stood up. 'I need some air,' she murmured. She headed for the door and stopped. 'Do you mind staying here with Mum...?' Ron shook his head and Hermione slipped out of Jane's room and blindly strode to the door of the building, her finger automatically punching in the code to unlock the door. She turned to one side of the building and ducked into a dormant garden, walking the small labyrinth laid out in flagstones, with her hands clasped behind her back. Hermione paced slowly, oblivious to the fingers of cold wind snaking through her jumper. When she reached the middle, and the bench resting in a patch of grass, she dropped into it with a sigh.
Hermione thought she ought to have felt... Something. She remembered the awful morning her father had died nearly fifteen years ago and the raw, gaping grief that had enveloped her mother and her. But now, the only thing she could feel in the cacophony of emotions swirling around her head was relief. With each breath, she could feel her shoulders slipping down little by little, until they no longer felt as if they were hovering just under her ears.
The sound of shoes crunching on the gravel path leading to the edge of the labyrinth made Hermione's head turn slightly. Ron trudged to the entrance of the garden, carrying her coat and started to walk directly toward her, but abruptly turned into the path of the labyrinth, marking its route with a deliberate step. He joined Hermione on the bench and slipped an arm around her shoulders. After several moments, she stood up and began to walk away from the center of the labyrinth, still keeping to its boundaries. Ron followed her, matching her methodical gait. Neither of them spoke until they stepped from the circle. She reached back for Ron's hand and met his sober blue gaze. Her hand tightened around his and before he could blink, she had Apparated them both to Hogsmeade.
Hugo sighed handed a scroll of parchment to Maddie. 'Can you look over that essay for Charms? Flitwick nearly came unglued last week when Janie handed in her quiz with the incantations misspelled. Said he'd start taking points off of regular homework if that sort of thing continued...'
Madeline scanned the scroll and nodded, passing it back over the tower of books surrounding Hugo. 'Looks fine.'
'Fan-bloody-tastic,' Hugo muttered. 'All that extra work, because she can't be bothered to look up the bloody spell in the textbook.' His lip curled in distaste. 'You'd swear she was dropped on her head as a small child...'
'Janie Sawyer?' Isabella asked, as she passed by the table where Hugo and Madeline were working.
'Yeah,' Hugo sighed. 'You know her?'
'I know her older brother Malcolm. He's actually quite smart for all that he behaves like a gormless eejit.'
'So is Janie,' Hugo told her. 'She's just insanely lazy. Lazier than even I am,' he added.
A cry arose from a small know of third years in the corner. Rosie groaned theatrically over Scorpius' delighted shout of, 'Checkmate!'
Al gathered Rose's chess pieces and tucked them into their box. 'Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?' he asked idly.
'Because,' Rose began patiently, 'Dad plays brilliantly. Hugo plays brilliantly.'
'So that means you have to?' Al chuckled.
Rose pursed her lips primly. 'Even Mum plays better than I do... I can't stand being the only one who's absolute rubbish at chess.' She swept the box containing her pieces into her bag. 'Why don't you go ask Lily why she's learning to untie knots blindfolded, hmm?'
'Because she's training for a career as a petty thief in case the magic bit doesn't work out,' Al replied promptly. 'It's what Mum always says when we try to sneak around.'
The portrait swung open, and Neville climbed through, scanning the faces of the students inside the common room. Sudden silence descended over the common room. Neville hardly ever came into the common room, unless it was to break up a raucous post-Quidditch party at three in the morning. 'Were we too loud, Professor?' Isabella asked, with a dubious expression.
Neville frowned at her. 'What? Oh, no... Rose...? Hugo...? Could you come with me, please? And bring your things with you.'
Rose glared at Hugo. 'What did you do?' she hissed.
'Nothing!' Hugo gazed at Neville's unusually sober face as they followed him through the portrait hole. He waited until the portrait closed and came to a stop in the corridor. 'Something's happened, hasn't it?' He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to move any further.
'I'd rather not discuss it here,' Neville said quietly. 'Come on...'
'Has something happened to Mum or Dad?' Hugo persisted.
Neville sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. 'No.' He beckoned to the two children and headed down the stone staircase.
Hugo's eyes narrowed but he followed his sister, managing to avoid the trick step. They walked quickly through the corridors to a door, guarded by a pair of gargoyles. Rose glanced over her shoulder at Hugo. 'Where are we?' she mouthed. He shrugged in bewilderment. As much as he and Lily had managed to explore the castle, there were still areas that remained a mystery. They trailed after Neville into a room that managed to be cozy and airy at the same time, with a roaring fire and comfortable sofas and armchairs. Ron and Hermione occupied a small sofa near the fire, half-heartedly sipping tea neither of them seemed to want.
Hugo hung back by the door, his feet rooted to the spot. He examined each of his parents in turn, peering at them closely, noting the faraway look to his mother. 'It's Grandmum, isn't it?' he guessed. 'She's...' He gulped audibly. 'Dead.'
Ron and Hermione exchanged a wordless glance, fueled by their nearly lifelong relationship with each other. It was Hermione, in the end, who nodded, and set her tea on the table next to the sofa. 'Yes. She is.'
Hugo heard a stifled gasp and turned to look at Rose. She had both hands clapped over her mouth, her dark eyes wide over the edges of her hands. 'When?' she asked, her voice muffled.
'This afternoon,' Ron told her gently. Rose's eyes welled up and tears spilled from the corners. She sniffled loudly and started to wipe her sleeve under her nose, but Neville pushed a clean handkerchief into her hand. 'You're going to come home with us for a few days,' Ron added.
'I'll collect your assignments for the next several days and owl them to you tonight,' Neville told them.
'Thanks, P-p-p-professor,' Hugo stammered, driven into numb formality. He stumbled toward the fireplace and waited, staring into the flames.
'Rosie...?' Hugo started a little at the sound of his mother's voice. She hadn't spoken since they walked into the room. Hermione pushed herself out of the depths of the overstuffed sofa and crossed the room, where Rosie stood clutching her bag, shaking her head slightly. She cupped Rose's face in her hands, nearly having to look up at her daughter. Hermione gently thumbed the tears from Rosie's cheeks. 'I won't force you to come home with us,' she murmured. 'It's all right if you don't want...' Her voice cracked and it seemed to reach through the shell that had enveloped Rose.
Rose shook her head. 'No... I'll...' She trudged across the room and joined Hugo at the fireplace. She watched at Neville enfolded Hermione into a sympathetic embrace.
'Send an owl to Hannah and me when the funeral will be,' Neville said softly to Ron, when Hermione stepped away. Ron nodded and shook Neville's hand with a murmured word of thanks, then guided Hermione to the fireplace. Neville reached into his robes for a small pouch of Floo powder and carefully poured a handful into each of their hands, and waited for Ron, Hermione, Rose, and Hugo to disappear into the swirling green flames. He left the staffroom and strode to his own quarters, slipping through the door, then silently closing it. One of the school elves tiptoed from Eric's room, a severe demeanor on her pointed face.
'Shhh!' she cautioned, fixing Neville with a look that would have done McGonagall proud. 'Eric is sleeping.'
'I won't wake him up,' Neville promised in a whisper. He tried to pay the elf for watching Eric, but the severe aura changed so swiftly to one of hurt reproach, he felt as if he'd insulted the elf.
'Professor Longbottom, I is not watching Eric so I's can be paid,' she sniffed.
'I'm sorry,' Neville said in chagrin. 'It was just such short notice...'
The elf shook her head. 'It is not being a problem, Professor Longbottom,' she squeaked, then left the flat. Neville turned into Eric's bedroom, and stood over the cot, watching his son sleep in limp abandon. He carefully scooped the boy into his arms and backed into the rocking chair, tucking Eric's sweaty head under his chin, his sturdy weight a welcome burden against his chest. Eric stirred sleepily and his eyes opened slightly.
'Da....' He smiled, snuggled into Neville, then promptly shut his eyes. His deep, even breathing resumed soon after. Neville pushed his toes against the floor and began to rock Eric, the chair swaying in time with Eric's breathing.
Neville could remember the day his mother had died. She'd slipped quietly away during the night a couple of years after the war ended. He hadn't been as devastated as when his grandmother had died several years later. What he'd felt more than anything else was crushing guilt.
He had been more relieved than grief-stricken when the Healer from St. Mungo's had met with him and his grandmother, something Augusta had picked up on, but wisely refrained from commenting about it. But as the day wore on in a whirl of arrangements for Alice's funeral, Neville felt increasingly guilty that he wasn't more distressed by his mother's death. It wasn't that Neville didn't love his mother. But at the same time, he had wondered from a fairly young age just how long both of his parents could linger as they were. Neville often wondered if they suffered at all. At least then he knew his mother wasn't suffering any longer.
The expression on Hermione's face put him in mind of the one he'd worn just after he had left the hospital with his grandmother -- the carefully blank countenance, the feeling that he was wrapped in a fog of cotton wool, trying to balance his overwhelming sense of relief against the sorrow of losing his mother.
In contrast, it was his grandmother's death that had sent Neville into a well of despondency. She was the one who had raised him, sent him off to school, celebrated when he got his position as the Herbology professor, and wept tears of joy when he'd married Hannah. True, she had been somewhat abrasive when he was a child, but Neville had often wondered if she felt in some way responsible for what had happened to Frank and Alice. That if she raised Neville to be made of slightly sterner stuff, the same thing wouldn't happen to him.
He brushed his lips over Eric's silky hair, wishing for the first time since Eric came into their lives, he could have one more day with his grandmother.
Ron collapsed on the sofa and groaned softly as his body shifted into the contours of its cushions. Hermione had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner, obviously worn out from the day. He could hear the occasional muffled sniffle from Rose's room, as if she had the quilt pulled over her head. Hugo's bedroom door was firmly closed, but a band of light shone underneath. Hugo could still be awake or he could have fallen asleep with the light on. He hadn't made a peep since he'd retreated to his room. That worried Ron. While Hugo was normally on the quiet side, Ron hadn't expected him to totally withdraw like he had.
'Hiya...' Harry's head was in the fireplace.
Ron picked his head up from the back of sofa. 'Hi,' he replied softly and slid off the sofa, settling on the hearth rug.
'How's Hermione?'
'All right, I guess... We brought the kids down for the funeral.'
'We'll bring our lot down for it, as well,' Harry said.
'Oh, Harry, that's not necessary...' Ron began, but Harry cut him off.
'Don't be a git. That's not how we do things in this family,' Harry reminded him. 'Besides, it'll be nice if they have someone else their age around. Especially after the service.'
'And do you really think McGonagall will agree to allow...' Ron paused and counted off the number of Weasley and Potter children currently in school. 'Thirteen students to just go home like that?'
'I do,' Harry responded. 'Minerva knows how we handle things of this sort. When's the funeral?'
'We were thinking about Friday,' Ron muttered, twisting his fingers together.
'One of us will go up on Thursday and collect them. I'll send an owl to Minerva before I go to bed.'
Ron chuckled a little, his shoulders slumping. 'Did you lot decide all this at lunch today?'
'Of course we did,' Harry retorted. 'Did you even have to ask?'
Ron pressed his fingers to his eyes and nodded. 'Thanks, mate.'
Harry peered at Ron in concern. 'How are you doing, then?'
'I've been worse...'
'Yeah, you look done in. I'll talk to you tomorrow, all right?'
'Okay.'
Harry pulled his head from the fire and Ron remained on the hearth rug. He could still hear the muffled sniffles coming from Rose's bedroom. He got to his feet and headed for Rose's room, knocking softly on the door. 'Hey, Rosebud,' he called in a low voice, picking his way across the floor and perching on the edge of Rose's bed. He dug into his pocket and pressed a handkerchief into her hand. 'Don't use the edge of the sheet,' he told her, as she raised it to her face. 'Even I don't do that anymore.' The corner of his mouth tilted up. 'Well, not much, at any rate...'
Rose scrubbed the soft cotton over her face. 'I didn't get to say goodbye,' she choked, tears running from the corners of her eyes, dampening the pillow under her head.
'I know, sweetie,' Ron crooned, tucking a strand of her wayward hair behind her ear. He bent and brushed a kiss over her cheek. 'Try and get some sleep,' he murmured. 'It's gong to be a long week.'
'G'night, Dad...'
'Night, Rosebud.' Ron left the room, and closed the door behind him. Hugo's room was across the corridor, so he went inside, after knocking quietly. There was no answer, so Ron opened the door a mere crack. Hugo was sound asleep, a book open over his scrawny chest. Ron carefully picked it up, his eyebrows going up in surprise. He supposed Hugo had plucked it from one of Hermione's bookcases that lined the walls of the sitting room. Out of idle curiosity, Ron scanned the text, his brows nearly disappearing into the fringe that flopped over his forehead. It was a sentiment he'd heard Ginny mutter to herself from time to time over the years, and wondered when Hugo had heard her say it. He slipped a scrap of parchment between the pages and closed the book, placing on the night table, scrutinizing his son. It didn't seem normal for an eleven-year old to actively seek out comfort from a book, no matter what it was. Ron switched the lamp off and backed out of the room. Hugo had always been something of an odd duck, even as a baby.
He edged into his own bedroom and sat heavily on the edge of the bed he shared with Hermione. Ron hauled his jumper and t-shirt over his head and let them drop to the floor in a heap next to the bed, then eased his jeans down before stretching out in the bed.
'Was it just her body that died, do you think?' Hermione's voice drifted through the darkness. 'Had that part that made Mum, well, Mum -- had it died before today?'
'First Hugo, now you,' Ron replied. 'Using philosophy to cope...'
'Well...? What do you think?' Hermione persisted.
'I don't know, hen,' he finally answered. 'I think you'd have to ask Neville that one. He's the one with any sort of experience at all with anything like this...'
'But what is it that makes a person?' Hermione continued, craving a resolution to her inquiries. 'Is it just the fact they can breathe, walk, talk? I mean ghosts can walk and talk, sort of, but that doesn't necessarily make them people!'
'Hermione, you know the answer to that,' Ron chided.
'Do I?'
'Do you remember the first time you realized Jane couldn't do the crossword anymore?'
'Yes...'
'Was she still your mother?'
'I suppose...'
'What about when she didn't remember you, me, or the children?'
'Of course she was still my mother,' Hermione said heatedly. 'It's not as if I'd just say, "Oh, well, too bad, you don't remember me, so you cease to exist?" would I?'
'Well, no, that's not what I'm trying to say... It's so difficult to give you an answer you'll find satisfactory,' Ron sighed. 'If you think that your mother's identity rested in her memoires, then maybe she did die a long time ago, and it just took this long for her body to realize it. Or maybe your mum always was there and she just got lost.' Ron shook his head. 'I really don't know. This is a conversation for an Unspeakable...'
The silence spooled between them for such a long time, Ron thought Hermione had fallen asleep. 'Do you think she would have been angry with me?' she asked.
'Whatever for?'
'Because I let her die...'
'You didn't let her die, hen,' Ron corrected. 'It's not as if you let her fall off a cliff.' He rolled over onto his side so he could look at Hermione. 'You know -- knew -- your mum better than probably anyone alive right now. Do you think she wanted to live like that for some indefinite period of time?'
Hermione turned to face Ron and burrowed into his chest. 'Then why does it feel like I've killed her...?'
Arthur set a creamer on a tray filled with a sugar bowl and numerous cups and saucers. He glanced out the kitchen window into the wintry back garden. Hugo slumped in the swing suspended from the apple tree, listlessly twisting it around. He beckoned to Charlie, who was hanging Aiden's coat in the scullery. 'Take this into the sitting room, would you?'
'Sure...'
'Tell your mum I'll be back in a moment.' Arthur grabbed his cloak and made his way to Hugo, Summoning an ancient day lounger from the others grouped by the tool shed, he set it next to the apple tree and settled into it, as if he were going to spend the afternoon reading Ron's old issues of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. 'It's a bit chilly out here,' he remarked.
Hugo shrugged. 'It's all right.'
Arthur slid down further into the chair and stared outright at his grandson. 'Something bothering you?'
'No.' Hugo gestured with his chin toward the house. 'Just don't want to be around people.'
'Hmmm.' Arthur nodded a little. 'I can understand that.'
Hugo began to swing slightly, his toes grazing the ground. 'Grandad?'
'Yes?'
'Do you think it's okay that I didn't cry at Grandmum's funeral?'
Arthur's brow furrowed a little. 'I didn't cry at Fred's funeral,' he said.
'That's not the same, Grandad,' Hugo pointed out.
'And what makes you say that?'
'Different situations,' Hugo countered. 'Uncle Fred was killed in a battle. Traumatic situations can make people act in ways they wouldn't normally.'
Arthur shook his head, trying to work his mind around the depths of his grandson's musings. Hugo was probably just as much a voracious reader as his mother, but his tastes were somewhat more esoteric. 'That is true...' he allowed.
'Grandmum's death wasn't exactly a surprise,' Hugo said dryly. 'But... I already made my peace with it. A long time ago. It's just with Rosie carrying on like she is...' He scuffed the toe of his shoe through the churned-up snow under the swing. 'Just makes me feel like I ought to...' Hugo shrugged.
'That you ought to be prostrate with grief?' Arthur finished.
'Yeah.'
Arthur wrapped his cloak around himself a little more tightly and considered Hugo. 'How you handle things is nobody's business but your own. Unless you're causing harm to yourself or others, of course,' he added. 'But it's not anybody's place -- not mine, not your parents', nor your sister's -- to tell you what's appropriate or not. If you don't feel the need to cry, then you don't have to.'
Hugo stared at his feet for several moments. Arthur could see his mouth tighten and when Hugo spoke, his voice quavered slightly. 'Does it make me a bad person?'
Arthur leaned forward and ran a hand over Hugo's tousled hair. 'Oh, Hugo... No, it doesn't.'
Hugo slid off the swing and wedged into the day lounger next to Arthur. 'Then why does it feel as if I'm the worst person in the world because I can't manage to squeeze out one bloody tear for my dead grandmother at her funeral?' he muttered.
'You're not the worst person in the world,' Arthur said. 'Tears aren't an indication of how much you loved your grandmother.' He put an arm around Hugo and gave him a gentle squeeze. He heard Hugo sniff a little and glanced obliquely at him from the corner of his eyes. Hugo rubbed the back of his mitten under his nose and caught Arthur looking at him.
'It's cold out here,' he huffed, only slightly defensively.
'Why don't we go inside, eh? I'll make you some hot chocolate.'
'Better than Dad's?' Hugo asked skeptically, as he wriggled out of the chair.
'Not quite that good, but it's not too bad.' Arthur unfolded himself from the day lounger and Banished it back to its place by the tool shed, then led Hugo back into the Burrow.
SIXTY THREE -- In Their Skins
Hannah paced the corridor with Eric, her arms beginning to ache from carrying him down to the end and back. Neville had offered to take him, but Hannah just shook her head, and continued to slowly walk to the suit of armor that guarded the entrance to the corridor of the staff living quarters to the lion that marked where she and Neville lived. Eric snuffled and buried his face in her neck, one hand clutching the front of her jumper. His chin was coated in saliva, and her jumper bore a widening splotch under Eric's cheek.
The soft scrape of a door opening beyond the suit of armor made Hannah turn, her arms tightening around Eric. Scorpius slipped through the door, a bulky book tucked under one arm. She stood slightly behind the suit of armor, watching him curiously. It wasn't uncommon for any of the staff to find Scorpius tucked into a remote nook or cranny of the school, reading a book or letter from home, or sometimes studying, when he wasn't in the company of the myriad Potter and Weasley children. He settled on a bench under a window and let the book fall open to a spot marked by an old quill.
Scorpius stared at the chapter heading. Draco Malfoy. He didn't particularly enjoy delving into his family's past, but figured he'd gone this far. It would be cowardly to turn back now. And Gryffindors aren't cowards! he thought fiercely, inhaling deeply, steeling himself, then let his eyes drop to the page.
Of all the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy is thought to be one of the most complex enigmas of the war.
Unlike the other members of Lord Voldemort's inner circle, Draco's reasons for joining at such a young age are somewhat muddled. Whereas the members of his father's generation had explicit desires to serve the Dark Lord, Draco was pushed into the role vacated by his father's arrest and imprisonment in Azkaban following the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Draco was an unusual case -- not only was he underage, it's unclear just how enamored he was of Voldemort's cause. What scant anecdotal evidence that exists of Draco's initiation into the inner circle, the general impression is one of great reluctance. In fact, the only reliable account comes from the transcripts of his own mother's trial, slightly less than a year after the war ended, nearly three years after Draco joined the Death Eaters.
From what little we can glean from Narcissa Malfoy's recollections, Draco was ordered to appear before Voldemort on pain of death if he foolishly chose not to obey. Once inducted into the Death Eaters, Draco was commanded to murder Albus Dumbledore, a task Draco failed at miserably -- something to which even Draco admitted to in his trial. In the process of trying to kill Dumbledore, Draco nearly killed two other students, due to his rather half-hearted attempts. In fact, by attempting to use intermediaries to carry out the deed, via a cursed necklace and poisoned mead, Draco merely set himself up for failure, as he was unable to fully control what happened with the necklace or the mead once they left his hands. He was even offered the chance for both him and his mother to be hidden by the Order of the Phoenix. He refused.
It was by Draco's own devices that the Death Eaters were allowed to enter Hogwarts, thus beginning the first battle of Hogwarts. He conspired to repair a Vanishing Cabinet, which has since been destroyed, that would create a clear path inside Hogwarts, and therefore bypass all the security charms that were placed on the castle.
After Dumbledore's death at the hands of Severus Snape, Draco found himself enmeshed even more tightly in the inner circle of the Death Eaters. Voldemort appropriated their home for his headquarters and Draco, by his own admission, was present for the murder of Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. It should be noted that he had nothing to do with Burbage's murder, he was simply required to be in attendance. During his trial, Draco was quite forthcoming with his activities during that year, both at school and at home. He was forced to torture other Death Eaters when they failed in their missions and other students by the Carrows, actions that Draco confessed repulsed him. However, during the final battle of the war at Hogwarts, Draco was charged with the capture of Harry Potter by Voldemort, a task Draco said he gave his fullest effort, in the hopes that if -- if -- the Dark Lord were to win, his successful apprehension of Potter would restore his family to their places of honor in Voldemort's inner circle -- a place lost two years before after the battle in the Department of Mysteries, their status slipping even further upon Draco's failure to murder Dumbledore.
Probably the one saving grace that kept him out of Azkaban occurred when Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger were captured by Snatchers, along with Dean Thomas in April of nineteen ninety-eight, shortly before Easter. When Draco had the opportunity to hand Potter over to the Death Eaters, he refused to identify Potter, even though Potter said in his testimony during the trial that Draco obviously recognized him, but lied to protect his identity. Potter also stated that while Draco and two of his friends tried to capture him at Hogwarts, Draco's only attempt to participate in the battle was trying to convince a fellow Death Eater who was attacking him that he was, in fact, Draco Malfoy and not someone else.
All in all, Draco's Curriculum Vitae as a Death Eater is rather ignominious: unsuccessful and humiliated at every turn. Some have theorized that was also a measure in keeping him out of Azkaban. However, the terms of his probation, like his father, have kept him a virtual prisoner of the Ministry, regardless of a lack of actual prison time. The terms of his probation are remarkably similar to his father's, with one exception: he was allowed to keep his wand. Some members of the Wizengamot protested vociferously at this condition, but the Minister of Magic argued Draco would be under constant surveillance, and seeing as a term of his probation automatically sent him to Azkaban for using it in a malicious manner at all, not merely Unforgivables, it might be enough of a deterrent to Draco to avoid any and all attempts to reprise Voldemort's philosophies or resurrect the Death Eaters.
Again, the question arises of what would have been worse -- a lengthy sentence in Azkaban, or the countless humiliations heaped upon Draco's personal freedoms as a result of his probationary terms. At the very least, a sentence in Azkaban would have allowed Malfoy to fade into the mists of memory.
In the end, Draco could have avoided much of what he did that last year of the war had he accepted the offer of sanctuary within the Order of the Phoenix Dumbledore offered before he died. But the pull of Voldemort and what he could offer Draco was too strong.
Hannah watched as Scorpius closed the book, his face impassive -- almost too impassive. She shifted Eric a bit and her eyes narrowed as she tried to read the title of the book from her position behind the suit of armor. Able make out the faded title on the spine, she turned and padded quietly down the corridor, shouldering the door to their quarters open. 'Nev,' she whispered, so as not to wake Eric. 'Scorpius is in the corridor, and I think he might very much like someone to talk to.' When Neville looked at her in bemusement, Hannah added, 'He's been reading...' When Neville's face still showed signs of confusion, she sighed and laid Eric into the travel cot near the sofa. 'He's reading about the last war,' she said significantly.
Neville's face cleared and he slid off the sofa, trailing a stack of seventh-year essays behind him. 'And all his friends are still at home...' he murmured distractedly, hurrying out of the sitting room.
Scorpius sat motionless on the bench, the fading light throwing shadows over his face. He blinked slowly as Neville settled next to him. Scorpius waited for Neville to stay something, but Neville seemed to be waiting for him. 'I hate him,' Scorpius said quietly.
Neville glanced at the cover of the book, Scorpius' hands clenched around it. 'Which one?' he asked.
Scorpius' mouth twisted. 'Both of them,' he said finally. 'But mostly my...' His lips pressed together in a white line. 'Father,' he ground out.
'Why?' Neville asked, startled. He knew Draco hadn't made much of an effort to maintain contact with Scorpius since he'd started school, but Scorpius seemed to have managed to make some sort of peace with it.
Scorpius shook his head slowly. 'He should have died than submit to... to...' He was unable to say the name. 'Him.' He stared at Neville. 'You knew him... Was he always such a coward?'
Neville didn't know what to say. As much as he had disliked Draco in school, he was loathe to demean the man any further than the book had managed to do. He heaved a sigh and let his head fall back against the wall behind them. 'Let's just say your father chose to do what was easiest, because to go against what his father's wishes could have been... Well...' Neville shifted uneasily. He didn't feel it was his place to voice his suspicions that Draco had been abused by his father, mentally, if not physically. 'It wouldn't have gone over well,' he muttered.
Scorpius snorted derisively. 'I've done nothing but go against my father,' he scoffed. 'I'm not exactly damaged.'
Neville arched an eyebrow. He could argue with Scorpius about that, but decided now wasn't the time to belabor the point. 'Different circumstances,' he said pointedly. 'It's not life or death with you. With your father...' He shrugged a little. 'Forging his own path might have cost him his life. And the lives of his parents. Because that's what V...' Neville screwed his eyes shut. Even after all these years, he still had difficulty saying the name, not unlike several others of his generation. 'Voldemort,' he managed to say on a gust of air, 'would have done.' He gently ran a hand over Scorpius pale blonde hair. 'That's why you can do what you do, because you haven't got that hanging over your head.'
Scorpius eyed Neville for a moment. 'I know what you're trying to do, professor,' he said wryly. 'I don't feel sorry for him. Because as far as I can tell, he hasn't changed since then. And doesn't really want to.' He slid off the bench and slipped through the door, leaving Neville staring after him in open-mouthed shock.
Teddy slipped into Courtroom Five. It wasn't the legendary Courtroom Ten of the Death Eater trials, but it was still foreboding. A single chair occupied a space in the middle of the room, surrounded by stone benches. Torches ringed the walls in heavy sconces, their light flickering ominously. He took a seat in the topmost row, his back braced against the wall. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his jumper against the slight chill and waited, staring intently at the chair.
Members of the Wizengamot filed into the courtroom in ones and twos, their plum velvet robes seeming to absorb the light, rather than reflect it. The seats in the observation gallery began to fill. Some of them were victims of Sampson's schemes, but others were merely curious onlookers. Teddy kept his gaze on a solid wooden door directly behind the chair. It was where Sampson would emerge, escorted by four burly Hit Wizards, laden with so many anti-Apparition jinxes, it was a wonder he could move of his own volition. So preoccupied was Teddy with watching the door, that he didn't see Harry slide onto the bench next to him. 'I didn't see your name on the witness list,' Harry commented idly.
Teddy jumped, his back slamming painfully into the wall. 'It's not,' he hissed through gritted teeth. 'Just wanted to see it all end,' he muttered.
Harry gave his godson a thoughtful glance and joined him in looking down at the chair in the center of the room. 'Looked up to him, did you?'
Teddy squirmed a bit. 'Some,' he admitted. 'I didn't work with Sampson much before he retired, but all of us in the training program admired him somewhat when he was teaching us. He'd been round for ages, and was an amazing Obliviator. Plus, he could do Legilimancy. And not very many people can do that, as you know...'
Harry nodded. 'Difficult when you realize someone you admire isn't quite what you imagined.'
Teddy shrugged, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. 'I suppose,' he murmured. The room grew quiet as Shacklebolt strode into the courtroom. Harry's brow rose slightly. He had assumed Percy would oversee the trial, but Shacklebolt was making quite a statement by handling it personally -- this kind of behavior was not to be tolerated. Harry knew the fact it would be an open-and-shut case mattered little to Shacklebolt. His presence gave the trial a certain amount of legitimacy that would send a message to the group in Ireland that while talking about their dislike of all things Muggle was permitted with great reluctance, any sort of actions would result in what was sure to be plastered all over the Prophet for days to come.
As Shacklebolt took his seat in the large chair reserved for the Minister, or his assistant, he flicked his wand at the door and it opened, revealing the expected Hit Wizards and Kieran Sampson. If Teddy thought Sampson would be cowed by the surroundings, he would have been terribly mistaken. Sampson glared at the witches and wizards in the observation gallery, then turned his scathing gaze to the Wizengamot. Teddy felt his fists clench, and he leaned back into the wall. The Hit Wizards manhandled Sampson into the chair and heavy ropes firmly bound him to it. Harry shifted uneasily. It reminded him far too strongly of Dumbledore's memories of the first Death Eater trials.
Shacklebolt rose to his feet and fixed Sampson with a stern look. 'Kieran Sampson, you are hereby charged with the following counts of Muggle-baiting.' He read a long list of incidents, pausing after each one. 'You are also charged with the conspiracy to commit murder, and the attempted murder of the Head Auror, Harry Potter. Do you understand these charges?'
'Perfectly,' Sampson sneered.
'Do you have anything to say in your defense?' Shacklebolt intoned.
'Only that the boundaries between our world and theirs keep shrinking... Soon we'll be working side-by-side with people who don't understand us and have no desire to try. They're limited by their inability to see things as they really are.'
'If I may...?' A voice chimed softly from the back rows of the assembled Wizengamot. Harry glanced toward the rustling sound and started when Hermione stood, a faintly pitying look on her face. He hadn't thought she'd be back at work so soon. 'Why did you think throwing up walls between the wizarding world and Muggles world would be in any way productive? History teaches us walls serve no other purpose than to create a sense of paranoia and irrational fear about the "other". I fail to see the rationale for your actions. Perhaps you could explain them to me in terms I might be able to understand.' She remained standing.
'Look at your own family,' Sampson retorted coolly.
'I'm somewhat bemused as to how my family fits into this,' Hermione said quietly.
'It's the prime example why I did it. I've no argument with Muggle-borns. It doesn't do to concentrate the bloodlines. The Black family alone is an argument to look elsewhere for marriage partners.'
Hermione's lips thinned, but she remained silent.
'The rest of them...? They've all married half-bloods at the very least. Except for your husband's oldest brother. Now, the family's littered with beasts... Veela, werewolves...'
Teddy jerked angrily, the heels of his boots thudding heavily on the stone floor.
Hermione's eyes flicked toward the visitor's gallery. Teddy's hair gleamed dully in the darkness, dark red in the gloom. 'But even that's acceptable,' she said neutrally. 'According to you, because they can manipulate magic. Is that right?'
'Yes,' Sampson spat. 'Better to wed a werewolf that happens to be a wizard than a Muggle,' he grunted, staring straight at Teddy.
'So you don't deny any of your actions?' Hermione persisted evenly.
Sampson turned his gaze to her. 'Why would I? And I'm not ashamed of them.'
'Is that why you felt the need to Imperius several wizards who were already on probation for their activities as Death Eaters to not only perform the Muggle-baitings, and then to modify their memories as well to cover your tracks?' Shacklebolt rumbled, his sonorous voice quiet, but it rolled off the walls nonetheless.
'I did nothing of the sort,' snorted Sampson. 'I just allowed them to do what they've been dying to do for the past twenty years.'
'Then why did you have to put them under an Imperius curse in the first place?' Shacklebolt wondered.
'They kept protesting it was against the terms of their probations. I merely put aside their misgivings.'
'With brute force,' Hermione chimed in. 'Or what amounts to brute force,' she amended. 'The very nature of an Imperius curse is that for most people --' She cast a wry glance at Harry. 'For most people it represses their own ability to even comprehend the consequences of their actions. You effectively put a stumbling block in front of a blind man.'
Sampson was, at last, speechless, under the onslaught of verbal logic from Hermione. Shacklebolt smothered a smile and turned to the assembled members of the Wizengamot. 'I think we can come to a decision now,' he said. 'All those who find Kieran Sampson guilty...?' All the hands rose into the air. Hermione nearly thrust a clenched fist into the air. Shacklebolt nodded. 'Kieran Sampson, you have been found guilty as charged. You will spend the remainder of your life in Azkaban.' He nodded at the Hit Wizards, who flicked their wands and Sampson and the ropes that bound him to the chair loosened briefly, then wound around his wrists and arms. He was guided from the courtroom through the door behind the chair. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud.
Harry and Teddy remained seated while the rest of the observers filed out of the courtroom. Hermione wound her way to them and perched on the bench next to Harry, smoothing her hair back into its simple chignon. 'It's a bit anti-climactic, don't you think?' she said idly. 'All those years of investigation and surveillance boils down to a crackpot who thinks he can make things go back to the way they were.'
Harry inhaled deeply through his nose. This was where Draco and Lucius' trials had been. He could still recall how Draco had strode through the door behind the chair, head held proudly high, but so pale, Harry could see the veins pulsing in his forehead. Lucius on the other hand had treated the proceedings with his usual contempt. A way to scrape together the dregs of his dignity, knowing the rest of his life wouldn't amount to a single Knut. His mind took a sideways turn and the photograph of Lavinia Malfoy in a file on his desk intruded into his thoughts. What would have happened to Lucius had Lavinia's disappearance been common knowledge and we would have been able to connect him to it...? he wondered. He turned to Hermione with a wry smile flitting over his face. 'Might have been anti-climactic,' he allowed, standing up. 'But there's always another case...'
Scorpius slid into a chair next to Al at the long table the cousins had claimed as their own in the library. 'Finished the book,' he murmured.
'Was it worth it?' Al shot back.
Scorpius inhaled strongly through his nose. 'Yes. And no. The chapter about my father was about as clear as one of Geoffery's potions.'
'So you didn't learn anything,' Al stated, opening his Arithmancy textbook.
'Oh, no, I did,' Scorpius corrected. 'I learned a lot about my father. Maybe I didn't learn much about his motivations or why he did this or that, but I learned a lot about him.' He followed Al's actions and opened his own Arithmancy textbook. 'And I've come to a decision.'
'About what?' Al glanced at Scorpius, who was studying the set of problems they were to solve with an intent he'd never seen before.
'My father. I'm done,' Scorpius said softly. 'I'm done trying to gain his approval. It's not worth it.'
'So you're giving up?'
'No. Not giving up. It's just not worth the effort to try and get him to notice I'm there. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me, so...' Scorpius shrugged with one shoulder. 'It's like if anything takes too much effort on his part, he won't do it.' He looked at Al. 'That's what I learned about my father.' His eyes dropped back to the half-solved problem on the parchment in front of him. 'And I'm probably better off just getting on with things. I don't care what he thinks anymore. Because it doesn't matter what I do, it's not going to be good enough, so why bother trying?' Scorpius waited for Al's argument, that he should keep trying, that Gryffindors didn't just give up like that, but to his surprise, Al remained silent. Instead, Al just nodded a few times, his dark brows drawing together in a frown.
'All right, then...'
'No lecture about familial loyalty?' Scorpius drawled.
Al sat back and gazed at his friend for a long moment, then said, 'Why do people bang their heads against walls?'
'Is that some sort of sick riddle?'
'No, it's a genuine question.'
Scorpius ran his fingers over the edge of his quill. 'I don't know. It's a rather silly thing to do, bang one's head against a wall...'
Al nodded. 'Exactly. Because it feels really good when you stop. Who am I to ask you to keep banging your head against a wall when you really want to stop?' He met Scorpius' sober grey eyes and nodded once more. 'Right, I think when Professor Vector talked about this, was the day we were gone...' He indicated a problem in the textbook with the point of his quill.
'Yes, it was. Here, let me show you...' Scorpius grabbed a scrap of parchment and wrote down the problem, explaining how the number chart worked.
Draco dropped into his customary armchair and reached for the small squishy ball on the table and began to lightly toss it from hand to hand, as was his habit. It gave him something else to focus on, other than the fact he was divulging intimate information about himself to another person. Each month it got a little easier, felt a little less like he would choke on the words. Andrew handed him a glass of water. 'How are you feeling?'
Draco shrugged. 'Better, I suppose. Nothing like a life-threatening illness to relieve one of their dignity.'
Andrew settled into his chair across from Draco and examined him for a long moment. 'Something on your mind?'
Draco hooted softly. 'If there wasn't, would I even bother coming here?' he asked sardonically.
'Something more than usual, then,' Andrew amended.
Draco's fingers convulsed around the squishy ball. 'Daphne has decided she won't make a decision about our marriage until she and I, and I quote, "get to know each other".'
'What's the problem with that? Unless you've been leading a double life all this time.'
'The problem is, I don't know the first thing about it,' Draco sighed. 'How do I do that?' he added in bewilderment.
Andrew set his notebook aside and leaned forward. 'Did you ever date?'
'No...'
'Not even before you were married?'
Draco shook his head. 'No. Daphne and I seldom had any social interactions before our wedding.'
'What about women other than your wife? Girls at school?'
'Not really. I mean, there was the girl I had sexual relations with on a regular basis during school and for a while after, but we didn't talk much. Not about personal things.'
'Take your wife on a date. A real one. Get out of the house.'
'And do what?'
'What everybody else does on a first date,' Andrew said dryly. 'Talk about things you like and see if you've got anything in common.' He picked up his notebook and sat back in his chair. 'Do you even like your wife?'
Draco's mouth dropped open. 'I... I don't know... She's maddening.'
'How so?'
'Obstinate, headstrong, infuriating...' Draco muttered.
'Well, that's something, isn't it?'
'Is it?'
'She gets under your skin. It's a start.'
'How can that in any way be a good thing?' Draco asked.
Andrew let a smile spread slowly over his lips. 'If you didn't care about her, Daphne wouldn't bother you at all.'
Draco stared at the Healer. 'That makes absolutely no sense!' he spluttered.
'People have an odd way of doing that,' Andrew replied. 'Makes them interesting.'
Draco frowned. 'So where am I supposed to take Daphne...?'
Andrew scribbled something in his notebook, then ripped the paper out, handing it to Draco. 'For you, keep the first one simple. Going for a coffee will probably be a decent start.'
Draco glanced down at the paper. It contained an unfamiliar address. 'I don't know this place,' he began. 'And I know everywhere in the wizarding world.'
'That's because it's not in the wizarding world. It's in a Muggle neighborhood.'
Draco felt his brows rise into his hairline. 'Muggle...?' he breathed uncertainly.
'You'll be unknown there. First dates are stressful enough without people giving you looks.'
Draco nodded and tucked the scrap of paper into his pocket. 'Good idea...' He looked up at Andrew and resumed tossing the squishy ball from hand to hand. 'What if she doesn't like me? Or, to use your words, I don't get under her skin? She's got no reason to, really.'
'Have you mistreated her?' Andrew asked sharply.
Draco audibly gulped. 'There are things I've done that I'm not proud of,' he stuttered. 'I used the only example of a marriage I had -- my parents'. Although I did my father one better,' he snorted. 'I never kept a mistress.'
'That's something.'
'If anything, what I've done with Daphne is no better than benign neglect. She hasn't wanted for anything materially. She's had a roof over her head, clothes... But I've never made an effort to try and get to know her.' Draco rubbed his fingers over his eyes. 'Just as well, since I don't know myself very well. And I've never given her a reason to want to get to know me. Even from the beginning.' He methodically squeezed the ball in his hands. 'How much do you believe in dreams?'
'My Muggle counterparts say dreams are your subconscious trying to work things out,' Andrew said slowly. 'For witches and wizards, dreams can be somewhat more complicated. They can be harmless manifestations of your imagination, or a way for your subconscious to try and figure something out, or...' he trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. 'In the wizarding world, the line between life and death can be somewhat blurry. Not very many of my peers agree with me on this one, but...' He straightened his shoulders visibly. 'Those who choose to continue through to death sometimes use dreams to communicate with the ones they've left behind. They can't do it directly, since they're not ghosts. Using dreams would be somewhat less jarring, and most people wouldn't think anything of it. We often dream of people we know.' Andrew shrugged. 'I've only been able to do a somewhat limited study of the subject, so it's only a hypothesis at the moment.' He eyed Draco speculatively. 'Why do you ask?'
'When I was ill, I had this... dream, I suppose. I attributed it to the fever, and I don't remember much of it, but...' Draco's mouth twisted wryly. 'It was suggested that I attempt to apologize to people I've wronged.'
'Either way,' Andrew said slowly, 'whether it's your subconscious or someone you've known attempting to talk some sense into you, you're trying to leave your past behind. And the best way to do that, is to take responsibility for your mistakes.' He held out a placating hand as Draco stiffened. 'Sometimes, all you need is to acknowledge that whatever you did was a terrible thing to do, and offer a sincere apology. Then, the onus is on them to do something with it. Some people my have let it go, and others... It might take longer.'
Dudley glanced at Harry, perched in a chair behind him. 'What makes you think this woman's in our papers? Or was...?'
'She wasn't in ours. I checked.' Harry repressed a shudder at the archival files of the Prophet. They were dim and dusty and smelled of something he'd rather not try and identify.
Dudley's face creased in confusion. 'How does someone go missing and it not be noticed? Especially if her family was as posh as you say.'
Harry leaned forward, peering at the monitor of Dudley's computer. 'Money talks with us. Just like it does here. Her brother could have paid off anyone questioning it. Or, if her brother never said anything to anybody...' At Dudley's still dubious expression, he elaborated, 'If I'd never come back from school, would your parents have raised a fuss?'
'Probably not,' Dudley said promptly. 'And none of the neighbors would have asked, either. Not that they did while you were there, either.'
'Her brother wouldn't have said a word. And everyone else would have followed his lead... And if he did tell them something, he might have said she went abroad, and that would have silenced any questions about her...'
Dudley scrolled down the screen, skimming the results of their searches. 'Sounds like a warm, caring family environment,' he scoffed. 'Don't see her... Are you sure of the name?'
Harry reached for the keyboard and carefully tapped out "Lavinia Malfoy". 'I don't think she would have used another name. She could have, I suppose...'
'Do you know what it would be?' Dudley asked.
Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. 'Try using Prewett in place of Malfoy,' he said slowly.
Dudley's hands hovered over the keyboard. 'Spell it?'
'P-R-E-W-E-T-T.' Harry leaned forward in anticipation.
Dudley shook his head. 'Nothing...'
'Damn it!' Harry whispered, mindful of Sarah in the travel cot, playing. She was starting to talk, and like most children her age, seemed to be able to filter out the exact words her parents did not want her to say. He raked his hands through his hair. 'Now what?'
SIXTY FOUR -- Phoenix Rising
For Lora...
Harry strode down the street, scrutinizing the neat row of houses that lined the quiet street in a sort of bland neutrality that reminded him of Privet Drive. Except for one at the end. Its door was painted a bright, vivid blue. Ravenclaw blue,' Harry thought to himself ruefully. He knocked on the door, knowing the occupant would be home on this gloomy Saturday. His old supervisor, Peter Wilson, had retired the summer before Al had started school. The party that marked that auspicious occasion had been a mellow affair in a private room over the public room of The Leaky Cauldron. The last thing Peter had said to Harry before he left the party was, 'Once an Auror, always an Auror, lad. You know where to find me.' Peter had nurtured and guided Harry through those first few years in the Aurors, through his promotion to supervisor and trainee instructor, and finally as Head. It had been Peter's lead in accepting Harry's promotion to Head that made the entire process a smooth transition, something for which Harry was eternally grateful to Peter.
'Hit a dead end, have you?' Peter asked, as he opened the door, motioning for Harry to come inside the house.
'Just a bit,' Harry replied dryly. 'I need to ask you about how others left Britain during the last war. Or even the first one.'
'Ah.' Peter made his way into the bright kitchen, and pointed his wand at the kettle on the stove. 'It's a pity Marianne isn't here today,' he remarked. 'She'd be able to tell you more.' Marianne was Peter's wife, also a retired Auror. 'She worked in the Ministry long before I did. I didn't even apply to join the Aurors until a few years after Voldemort disappeared. But the last one...' Peter poured boiling water over the leaves he'd spooned into a pot and set the kettle down. 'Marianne joined me in Perth a few months after the Ministry fell. She got out of Britain like the others, even though she's a half-blood.' He poured tea into a cup and pushed it to Harry. 'Somehow, they or the Order of the Phoenix got messages to the other Ministries. The French one, mostly. People would take a Portkey to Normandy and from there...' Peter shrugged. 'I really don't know. They scattered. If they didn't have the means to make arrangements to go elsewhere, they were hidden in France.'
'What happened when they left France?' Harry asked.
'I don't really know. Marianne used an assumed name to travel to Australia. She had forged documents from the French Minister, but they were marked with a phoenix so the Australian Minister would know she was a refugee. She said the Order started spiriting people across the Channel in a matter of days after the Ministry fell. I'm sure if they had a system to get Muggle-borns out of Britain in the first war, it was similar to what they used in the second one.' Peter Summoned a biscuit tin to the table and pried the lid off, offering the tin to Harry, before taking a handful. 'Why are you interested in this? It's old history.'
'Old history, new case,' Harry muttered. 'Missing person. She disappeared in August of nineteen eighty-one.'
'Sure she wasn't just murdered by Voldemort or the Death Eaters?' Peter asked skeptically.
'Yeah, I'm sure. It's like she just... vanished.'
Peter thoughtfully chewed a biscuit and took a sip of his tea. 'Well, lad, you'll have to find a member of the Order from the first time around.'
'That's easy enough,' Harry said. 'Arthur or Minerva ought to know.'
'You seem awfully intent on finding this bird,' Peter told Harry. 'Why?'
Harry cradled his cup between his palms. 'It's sort of personal.'
'It's not family, is it?' Peter asked sharply. 'It's not ethical --'
'It's not ethical to investigate family, I know,' Harry said over him. 'It's not really family, and if it were, I doubt my family would consider her as such. I owe the person who asked me to do this.' Harry quietly drank his tea, and let Peter digest that bit of information.
'So I hear you still don't let Avery near the trainees,' Peter said, smoothly changing the subject.
'Merlin, no!' exclaimed Harry. 'Avery's a good Auror, but the entire concept of working with a team still seems to elude him. Still can't help making cutting remarks if the newbies get something wrong or don't do it the way he thinks they ought.' He shook his head. 'Some things never change.'
Draco searched the house for his mother after breakfast. She was still with them and if he was going to try apologizing to people, he wanted to begin with her. It wasn't something he thought he could do in a letter. He found Narcissa in the small conservatory, repotting seedlings. She looked up when she heard his step on the gravel pathway. 'I trust you slept well?' she asked, returning to the clump of lavender she held in one hand.
'I did, thank you.' Draco replied, his hands jammed into the pockets of his trousers. His fingers were icy from nervousness. He stood stiffly across the tall table from her, his mouth opening, and as the words died in his throat, closing once more.
'Is there something you wanted, Draco?' Narcissa asked curiously. He didn't normally care for gardening, fastidious as he usually was.
Draco's lips pressed together tightly, as if he was attempting to stem a tide of nausea. 'Do you remember my trial?' he asked tightly.
'Yes.'
He inhaled deeply and continued, his voice pitched high with tension. 'Do you remember when Potter said Dumbledore had offered sanctuary to the two of us, to you and me with the Order of the Phoenix?'
Narcissa slowly set the trowel in her hand down on the table, next to the half-potted lavender. 'I do,' she said quietly.
'And how he said I refused it?'
Narcissa nodded, her face a mask of preternatural calm that didn't fool Draco for a moment. He knew she was angry.
Draco's head bowed. 'It's true,' he whispered. 'All of it.'
'I see...' Narcissa's voice was even, never betraying what seethed below the surface.
He looked up at her and felt the blood drain from his face. 'Mother, I'm...' Draco choked. 'I'm sorry... I was too afraid to accept the offer. I wanted to succeed where Father had failed,' he admitted shamefacedly, waiting for Narcissa's reply. 'I didn't think they could actually protect us.'
Narcissa gripped her shaking hands together behind her back. 'Are you telling me that we could have avoided that year?' she demanded. 'And all the indignities that followed after that?'
'I... Yes...'
Narcissa stepped away from the table and took the few paces necessary to stand in front of Draco. She said nothing, and Draco cringed inwardly, almost hoping she would indeed slap him. It would be better than the silent figure that faced him now. Her face twisted, and for an instant, she bore a striking resemblance to her sister Bellatrix. Draco took a step back, his eyes widening in shock. No matter how angry his mother had been about something, she'd never let that particular expression cross her features. 'M-m-m-mother?' he stammered. 'Say something,' he pleaded.
Narcissa glared at Draco for a moment, then brushed by him wordlessly as she left the conservatory.
Harry strode into Arthur's office and closed the door. 'I know the Order had a system to help people escape from Voldemort during the first war,' he stated without preamble. 'What happened when they left England?'
If Arthur seemed surprised by Harry's questioning, he didn't show it. Harry often used Arthur as a source of Order activities in the first war. 'I don't know,' he said. 'I just know there were certain places that the Portkeys went. I don't know what happened to them once they got there.' Arthur smiled kindly. 'It was for our own protection, you see.'
'Of course it was,' Harry muttered, cracking his knuckles irritably.
'In case we were captured. Then they couldn't trace the Portkey or the people who fled,' Arthur reminded Harry. 'You'd have to try and find out who worked in the British Ministry offices abroad,' he added. 'We expunged a lot of those files in the first war. And the second. Seemed the best way to hide our tracks. And after the wars were over, they were transferred to other positions.'
'So there's almost no sure way for me to find anyone who worked for the Ministry on the Continent?' Harry asked incredulously. 'Other than hearsay?'
'I'm afraid so,' Arthur murmured apologetically. 'That's the way we did things.'
'For their protection,' Harry groaned.
'Either war, we weren't sure which way things would turn, so we made sure there would be no chance of reprisals against them if we lost.'
Harry sighed and nodded. 'I know,' he said, the bitter tang of defeat coating his tongue. This case is hopeless... 'Thanks...'
'Why do you need to know about the smuggling system?' Arthur asked, as Harry's hand landed on the doorknob.
Harry pulled a photograph from his trouser pocket and handed it to Arthur. 'Did you ever help this woman leave the country?' he asked baldly.
One of Arthur's brows rose infinitesimally. 'No.' He met Harry's gaze and returned the photograph. 'I take it I ought not to let on to Molly that you're looking for her,' he stated.
'Probably not.' Harry tucked the photograph back into his pocket and left Arthur's office.
Al looked up from his dinner, eyes narrowed at his cousin. It wasn't the Rose he knew -- the Rose who vociferously supported the Cannons with a fervor matched only by Ron; the one who liked to tease him by calling him her much younger cousin, even though a mere four months had separated their births; the Rosie who was weeks ahead of the rest of the class in their studies, but still thirsted for more. This Rose -- the one sitting on the other side of the table -- listlessly poking at a bowl of soup, rarely volunteered information in class and had to be prodded to say something. Her marks suffered, because she only did the bare minimum to pass the assignment. Isabella had been forced to shift the Gryffindor Quidditch team around, moving Fred back to Keeper, because Rose refused to attend team practices. And while Nicky, Alex, and Sophie were passable reserve Beaters, they were all rubbish at Keeping, mostly because they weren't very tall yet, although it seemed as if Sophie was going to end up petite like her mother.
Rosie gave the soup a final swirl with her spoon and pushed it away. Al dropped his fork and swung his feet over the bench. 'Meet you in the library later,' he told Scorpius, and followed Rose to the staircase that would lead them to Gryffindor tower, catching up with her easily, since she was plodding up the stairs. 'Come on,' he told her, grabbing her hand and towing her toward an empty classroom.
'Albus, I'm not in the mood...' Rose began weakly, trying to pull her hand from Al's grasp.
'Too bad,' Al replied crisply. 'It's been weeks now. I'm not saying you ought to snap out of it --'
'Sounds like it,' Rose muttered sullenly.
Al's face grew still and he dropped Rose's hand. 'At least you knew her,' he informed her coldly. 'Some of us have never had the chance. I'd give anything to have one bloody day with one of Dad's parents. I understand you're upset that your grandmother died, but do you really think this is what she would have wanted?' Al glared at Rose impatiently. To his surprise, Rose's chin trembled and she threw her arms around him.
'D-d-d-do y' wan' to know wha' I thought th' las' time we saw her?' she wailed into Al's skinny shoulder. 'Tha' I couldn' wait to leave, 'cause she didn' know us anymore!'
Al awkwardly patted Rose's back. Like most males of his family, he was at a loss as to what to do with a crying female. He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and coming up empty, used the edge of Rose's cloak to wipe her face. 'Shhh. Calm down...' He made her sit on the edge of a desk. 'Do you really think quitting Quidditch or not doing as well in class is going to change any of that?'
Rose drew the sleeve of her jumper under her nose. 'No,' she admitted in a quavering voice.
Al sat next to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was a little ungainly, since Rose was somewhat taller than he was. 'I didn't mean to say you can't be sad,' he said softly, Rose's sniffles echoing in the empty classroom. 'You have every right to be sad. But if you keep on like this, you're going to let yourself down... You'll lose your place on the team, you'll get behind in class.'
'I know...' she sighed mournfully.
'Besides,' Al added, 'it's not as if you could give up magic and become a nun. They wouldn't have you anyway.' He stole a sidelong glance at his cousin. 'Too barmy.'
Rose gasped and giggled, then guiltily clapped a hand over her mouth.
'We're all worried about you, Rosie,' Al continued. 'None of us think you should just keep on, as if it all didn't happen, but packing it all in's a bit extreme, eh?'
Rose shrugged, but rested her head against Al's shoulder. 'Thanks, Albie...'
Al made a moue of distaste at his childhood nickname, but squeezed Rose's shoulder all the same. 'Anytime, Rosie...'
Draco yanked open a drawer of his desk, and reached into the back of it until his fingers brushed against the wood at the back. He hadn't had anything more than the single glass of wine he allowed himself at dinners since he'd come skulking back to Wiltshire in September. But after seeing the way his mother looked at him, like he was something foul she needed to wipe from her shoe, Draco craved the familiar oblivion he had so often found in the bottom of a bottle. If that's the way she looked at Father after the war, no wonder he sought solace in cheap whisky.
'Looking for something?'
Startled, Draco peered over the edge of the desk. Daphne stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.
'Not particularly,' he muttered, hauling himself into the large chair behind the desk, resting his elbows on the large blotter, and propping his head in his hands. 'Andrew was wrong,' he grumbled.
'Who's Andrew?' Daphne asked curiously, stepping into the darkened room and crossing to a chair near the fire, but still close enough to the desk so she could easily talk to him. She gracefully sat on the edge, her head tilted to the side expectantly.
'The Healer I talk to,' Draco supplied. 'I suppose I never did tell you his name, did I?'
'No...' Daphne turned slightly in the chair, so she sat sideways, her back braced against one arm of the chair, and her feet dangling over the other. 'What was he wrong about?'
Draco stared at her, then a bark of laughter escaped him. 'If your brother...' he began, than trailed off in acute embarrassment.
'If Ian could see me now?' Daphne snorted. 'Properly brought-up girls aren't supposed to sit in such an unladylike posture,' she sniffed. 'So... Andrew?' she prompted.
Draco took a deep breath. 'You don't want to know.'
Daphne's hands clenched into fists under the folds of her skirt. 'I do,' she insisted.
'I wanted to try and apologize for some of the things I've done,' Draco sighed. 'So I started with Mother.'
'Didn't go well, I take it?'
Draco shook his head. 'I think if she had her wand with her, she might have hexed me worse than anything Potter might have done in school.' Daphne's brows rose. She remembered the journey to London at the end of their fifth year and how many hexes Harry and his friends had aimed at Draco and his entourage. It hadn't been pretty and removing the myriad hexes and jinxes had taken several fully-trained wizards and witches. Crabbe had ended up in the hospital for a night or two. 'He was wrong,' Draco repeated dully, the intense need for alcohol to dull his senses dissipating. 'He said it would be "liberating" for me admit and own up to the awful things I did to people.'
Daphne leaned forward a little. 'What did you say?'
'That a lot of the things that happened to her and me the year the Dar...' Draco shook himself like a dog. 'Voldemort,' he amended firmly. 'The year he was in power... A lot of those things could have been avoided. I foolishly turned down an offer of sanctuary. My pride wouldn't let me accept it. I needed to be more -- better -- than my father. I needed to show I wasn't useless.' His gaze fixed on a tassel holding back the heavy curtains at a window. He waited what seemed like endless minutes for Daphne to walk out with that same expression of scorn that his mother had given him. But she remained in the chair, waiting for him to continue. 'She didn't say anything,' he finished. 'Just walked out of the conservatory.'
'That certainly explains a lot,' Daphne murmured. She'd never seen Narcissa behave so coldly toward Draco. She had all but ignored Draco at dinner that evening. 'Do you wish you hadn't said anything to her?'
Draco leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. The Quaffle's in Mother's hands, so to speak,' he mused. There had been something sort of like relief at finally confessing that he was partly responsible for the hellish turn their lives had taken, if not the liberation of which Andrew had spoken of so highly. 'No,' he told her so quietly, it was barely audible over the crackle of the fireplace.
Ron pursed his lips in dismay as he surveyed the table in the kitchen of the flat. Without Rose and Hugo to help them eat meals, he always cooked enough to feed an entire Quidditch team. He could hear his mother in his childhood memories muttering about not wasting food twisted around memories of the year looking for the Horcruxes when hunger constantly gnawed at his insides. Hermione's plate sat at her place across from his, and he examined the half-eaten dinner left behind.
Ron remembered all too well the distress she'd felt when her father died, but since the Jane's funeral, Hermione had been her usual self, even returning to work mere days after the funeral. He didn't feel as if this ought to be normal behavior. Ron pointed his wand at her plate and Vanished the remains of Hermione's meal, before he put the leftover steak-and-kidney pie away for another time. He set the dishes to wash themselves and padded into the sitting room, where Hermione frowned at a large tome. 'Why didn't you eat your dinner?' he demanded.
Hermione looked up at him, her attention half on the book in her lap. 'What?'
'You left half your dinner on your plate!' Ron said accusingly.
She slowly blinked, trying to bring her thoughts into focus. 'But I don't like steak-and-kidney pie,' she said vaguely. 'I've been telling you that for more than fifteen years...'
'No, Rose doesn't like it,' Ron objected.
'I don't like it,' Hermione corrected. 'Never have.' She shut her book and heaved it to the side table. 'What are you going on about? You haven't been this concerned with my eating habits since...' She stopped talking and pushed herself to her feet. 'I don't want to talk about this,' she sighed. 'I'm fine. I had my chance to deal with Mum ages ago.' She walked into the kitchen to put the dinner dishes away.
'Hermione,' Ron called after her. But she didn't respond. Ron had his doubts about whether or not she had actually dealt with losing her mother. He didn't think she had, given the equanimity with which she'd planned Jane's funeral. It had been done with the same ease she gave reading Hogwarts: A History for the thousandth time. It amazed Ron that Hermione was guilty of the thing she'd often accused Harry of doing, namely suppressing the inner turmoil of emotions, and couldn't see the same behavior in herself.
A tall man ambled through the maze of cubicles with a careless grace that belied his age. He wasn't old, not by wizarding standards, and more than a few women's heads turned to watch him make his way to the door at the end of the corridor. He knocked on Harry's office door once, then walked inside the office. 'Hiya, kid!' he said cheerfully.
Harry looked at the visitor over the rims of his glasses. 'I'm forty years old, you know,' he said mildly. 'Do you have to call me "kid"?'
Michael Carter, the former Hogwarts professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, retired member of the American Auror Department, and current Head of the Salem Institute, San Francisco, plopped into a chair across from Harry's desk. 'Kid, no matter how old ya are, you're always goin' to be that scrawny eighteen-year old who had the cojones to write to Salem and question my credentials to teach,' Carter chuckled.
'Don't you have a school to run?' Harry asked idly, enjoying the verbal banter.
'Mid-term holiday,' Carter said blithely. 'Thought I'd come over and see how you're doin'.' He craned his head to study the photograph on the edge of Harry's desk. His long fingers reached out and slid it around so he could see it more clearly. Carter frowned for a moment, then his face cleared with recognition. 'I know her!' he crowed.
'That's impossible,' Harry countered, reaching for the photograph.
Carter laid his hand flat over the photograph, preventing Harry from sliding it away. 'I know her,' he insisted. 'I've known her for... God, almost as long as I've known you.'
Harry felt the room begin to spin.
SIXTY FIVE -- From the Ashes
Ginny found Harry in their bedroom, shoving clothes into a bag. He barely glanced at her before tossing an empty one at her. 'Can you take a few days off?'
Ginny caught the bag and frowned. 'What's a few days?'
Harry blew out a breath and tucked extra socks in the empty spaces. 'A week or so.'
Ginny moved into the bedroom, and set the bag on the foot of the bed next to Harry's. 'I think I can manage that...'
'Brilliant.' Harry strode into the bathroom and returned with their toothbrushes. 'Send an owl to the paper. And tell Ariel land Dante to go to your parents'.'
'Want to tell me where we're going?'
'San Francisco.'
Ginny began to layer clothing into her empty bag. 'Why?'
Harry dropped his toothbrush into his bag. 'I think I might have a lead...'
'Seriously?' Ginny turned from the wardrobe that held her clothes. 'That seems a bit random, don't you think?'
'I suppose,' Harry said with a shrug. 'But it's the only good one I've had so far.' He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ginny neatly fold and place a few days' worth of underthings in the bag. 'What makes you think it's random?'
'Well,' Ginny began slowly, 'think about it for a mo... She might have been something of a rebel, but she was still a Malfoy. It would be like Scorpius moving to, oh, I don't know... Mumbai or something when he finishes school. Nothing against Mumbai, of course, and you know I think Scorpius is a lovely child, but it just doesn't seem like the two would make a good fit...' She shrugged. 'I just don't see any Malfoy moving to San Francisco.'
'So you don't think it could be her...?' Harry said, slightly deflated.
Ginny paused in the act of folding a dress. She went to sit next to Harry on the bed. 'Harry, that photograph you have is at least forty years old. It's entirely possible she might not resemble that photograph anymore. And it's possible there's someone out there that does resemble her, but it's not her.' She covered his hand with her own. 'I just don't want you to get your hopes up and have it be another dead end...'
Harry looked at Ginny for a moment, then nodded. 'Right. Can you hurry it up? Our Portkey leaves at seven.'
'Sure. Just one thing, Harry...'
'What's that?'
'Get your bum off my bag...'
Carter pushed the door open, making a tiny bell tinkle softly in the dim shop, redolent with the mingled scents of herbs hanging from the rafters in bunches. Glimmering silver unicorn tail hairs shimmered on spools and dragon heartstring gleamed in coils in a glass case. An older woman perched on a tall stool behind the counter, a battered Muggle paperback novel in her hands. She absently tucked a lock of ashy blonde hair behind her ear. 'Just a mo, ducks. The chapter's gotten really good...' A recognizable undertone of a plummy British accent colored her voice.
'Take your time, Liv,' Carter quipped.
Harry glanced down at the photograph Narcissa had given him. The woman behind the counter could have been the same one in the photo, but Lavinia Malfoy's demeanor in the photo was cool and aloof, and she wore traditional robes and long, blonde hair wound into an elaborate chignon. This woman was bundled into a bright red jumper and jeans, while well-used hiking boots peeped over the counter. Her hair was much shorter than the woman's in the photo, swinging just above her shoulders.
'Right, then,' the woman said, putting her book down. 'Say what you want about Asimov, Michael, but the man's bloody entertaining. Who's your friend?'
Harry stepped forward. 'Harry Potter.'
'Oh, so you're Harry Potter!' she exclaimed in delight. Her head tilted slightly to one side as she examined Harry. 'Hmmm. I thought you'd be taller...'
Harry huffed in exasperation. 'Did he tell you to say that?' he sighed, jerking a thumb in Carter's direction. 'It's the first thing he told me when I met him the first time.'
The woman chuckled with a warm throaty tone. 'Pleasure to meet you. Lavinia Prewett. So what brings you to San Francisco?'
Harry laid the photograph on the counter. 'You.'
Lavinia's eyes flicked down to the photograph. 'That's not me.'
'Yeah, it is,' Carter argued. 'Looks just like ya. You haven't changed at all since I've known ya, Liv. And that's been at least twenty years.'
She laid a hand over the photograph, obscuring the face. 'Not anymore,' she said emphatically. 'I haven't been that woman in almost forty years.'
Harry reached for the photograph, the cuff of his sleeve falling back from his wrist. 'But you are, or were, in fact, Lavinia Malfoy...?'
Lavinia grabbed Harry's hand. Her face paled and her fingers tightened around his wrist. 'Where did you get that watch?' she breathed.
Harry gazed at Fabian Prewett's dented watch. 'It was a gift,' he said quietly. 'It belonged to my motherin-law's brother.'
Lavinia glanced at him sharply. 'Who's your motherin-law?'
'Molly Weasley.'
Lavinia began to shake. 'It's Fabian's watch,' she murmured.
'Yeah.'
Lavinia reached under the counter for her wand and almost savagely jabbed it at the door. It locked with an ominously loud click in the otherwise silent shop. 'My son... Benjamin, he doesn't know any of this...' She stared at Harry. 'He's just about your age. He's two years younger than my nephew.'
Harry waved his wand and two stools appeared in front of the counter. 'How did you know Fabian Prewett?' he asked curiously, sliding onto the stool.
Lavinia's hand stole across the counter, fingers resting briefly on the face of the watch, caressing it lightly. 'We were... lovers,' she admitted, a faint flush darkening her cheeks. 'And he died in an ambush by five of my brother's... friends... with his twin.' Her eyes closed and Harry noticed a tremor begin to run through her, as if she were cold. 'Lucius made me watch,' she whispered. 'I don't know how he found out about Fabian and me, but he arranged to have him murdered, then disowned me. Even broke my wand.' Her voice broke, and Carter pressed a clean handkerchief in her hand. 'I've never spoken about this to anyone...' she said shakily.
'Take your time,' Harry told her. He already knew what had happened to her on that fateful day, but had a feeling she needed to talk about it.
Lavinia twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. 'The week before he died, we had made plans to leave England for good and go to Italy. After he... died...' She gulped and swiped the handkerchief over her face. 'I spent a few days in someone's cottage... I never did get her name.'
'Dorcas Meadowes,' Harry murmured.
'I was in a rather lot of shock,' she added apologetically.
'Of course,' Harry said quietly. Watching someone die a violent and senseless death was something he understood very well.
Lavinia's focus turned inward, and it seemed as if she had forgotten Harry and Carter were there.
The roar of the sea intensified and faded in a rocking rhythm that had toyed around the edges of Lavinia's mind. She sat up slowly, pushing tangled hair from her face, curiously examining the small bedroom that was dimly lit by a lamp on a bureau. She had no memory of how she got here. The last thing she remembered with any sort of clarity was Fabian...
Lavinia's face crumpled and she snatched up a pillow and pressed it to her face, muffling the sobs that surged to the surface. She allowed herself a moment to grieve, then her upbringing took over. A few deep breaths... There... Lavinia searched the room from her perch in the bed and located a hairbrush. She swung her feet to the floor and stood, the room tilting shakily for a moment. The hairbrush sat on top of her robes. They had been covered with dirt, grass, and Fabian's blood, but now... Now they were freshly laundered and pressed. Lavinia gripped the brush tightly and began to work it through the knots. I wonder what Fabian would think if I... she thought, before her hand tightened around the handle of the brush and it trembled briefly. She shook her head, and continued to gently tease out the snarls until she could run the brush freely through her hair. Lavinia swiftly unbuttoned the borrowed nightdress and quickly donned her robes. As she fastened the frog clasp of the overdress, she could feel Fabian's hands slide over hers. Lavinia closed her eyes and let her hands rest over the woven knot of the clasp, remembering one of the last times she'd felt his hands as he'd helped her dress in "their" cottage. Her eyes screwed shut and she held her breath. She could feel him, just behind her, his chest against her back, his head bent to hers, lips grazing over her ear, as he Apparated them both to Wiltshire.
Lavinia's eyes flew open. A small mirror hung on the wall in front of her. The space behind her was achingly empty, and all she could see in the mirror was her own haunted face staring back at her. She turned sharply away from it and reached behind her head, separating her hair into three sections and began to plait it. She bound the end with a thread raveled from the hem of the heavy underdress of her robes. Lavinia found the slippers that matched the robes and slid her feet into them as she looked out of a large window that dominated one wall of the room. It had a small handle, rather like the French doors that led from the sitting room of the mansion to the terrace. She put a hand on the handle and twisted experimentally. The door/window swung open silently and Lavinia stepped into the dark night.
She followed the sounds of the sea, feeling herself pulled inexorably toward it, and unable to turn away, even had she wanted. She stood on the edge of the cliff for minutes? Hours? She couldn't tell... Watching the sea far below ebb and flow over the scrap of a beach. Her breath caught in her throat and the tips of the slippers moved a bit closer to the precipice. The sky began to lighten with dawn and Lavinia dispassionately pondered her options. She could go to Molly, Fabian's younger sister, but no... Molly, Lavinia recalled, had not been pleased to hear Fabian was involved with her. Fabian had even recounted the conversation he'd had with Molly about her. He had been angrier than Lavinia had ever seen him. In any case, Molly wouldn't have been a viable option even she'd adored Lavinia. Lavinia mentally counted in her head, 'How many...?' She could hear Fabian talking about his numerous nephews. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ronnie... oh, and Molly just had another child... A girl, this time, I believe. What was her name? Something fanciful... Gwendolyn? No... Guinevere? Genevieve? No, but closer... Gin... Ginevra... Yes, Ginevra. They call her Ginny... That's... seven children... Lavinia refused to put Molly in danger, for Fabian's sake. And Molly and her children would be in danger. Simply because Lucius couldn't let her live. She knew. She knew all his secrets. All the hiding places. He also knew there was no love lost between them and it wouldn't trouble Lavinia at all to turn him into the Ministry, if things turned to the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was an option, but a futile one at that. Lavinia had only known Fabian or Gideon. The others might think she was setting them up for a trap, as Gideon had so often believed. She wondered if that's what had gone through his head as he died.
Thinking upon Molly's children made one of her hands steal up to her hip and slide over the heavy silk of her robes to rest just under the frog clasp, fingers spread wide. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, and Lavinia mourned the children with Fabian she'd never have, the tears sliding down her face to drip off her chin, leaving damp blotches on the bodice of her robes.
The toes of her slippers peeped over the jagged edge of the cliff and Lavinia looked down, her eyes blurred by tears. She started to lean forward, to fall down that abyss that was shallower than her internal chasm, but she fell backward, landing hard on her bottom.
Lavinia wheezed, trying to catch her breath -- it had been quite knocked out of her when she fell. She swiped the sleeve of her robes over her streaming eyes and stared into the endless blue void overhead. 'If that was you...' she began, murmuring. 'I take it to mean you wish me not to join you so soon?' she asked aloud. Lavinia turned her head to look over the sea, the rough grass prickly under her cheek. 'Fine... I shall play by your rules. For the moment.' She sat up and pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the small village that huddled some distance away from the cliff's edge.
Once there, it was easy to steal a wand. Find some witch who thought it was too early for others to be about, with her wand sticking out of a pinafore's pocket, pretend to stumble into the witch, and slip the wand from her pocket as she pulled away. Walk quickly to the nearest alcove and Apparate to the cottage in Gloustershire.
Inside the cottage, hidden in the hearth, was a bag filled with her Muggle clothing and a considerable fortune in jewels and gold from her own Gringotts account hidden in the lining. Lavinia savagely ripped off the robes and threw them into the hearth. Naked, she snatched up the wand and pulled the plait over her shoulder and used the wand to sever it just above her shoulders. Her hair swung unevenly over them and she attempted to trim her hair into something more-or-less uniform. The shorn strands of hair joined the robes in the hearth and Lavinia turned to the bag and pulled out what had been Fabian's favorite jumper -- the one he liked for her to wear and pulled it over her head. And because she could, a brand-new pair of trousers. It wasn't as if Lucius could dictate her attire any longer. And Lavinia was through with wearing robes if she could help it.
In fact, as she perused her reflection in the small pond behind the cottage, Lavinia Malfoy was dead. In her place stood Lavinia... Prewett...
Lavinia took a deep breath. She rubbed her fingers over her cheeks, surprised to find them wet with tears. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she realized she'd told the entire story to the two men sitting in stunned silence on the other side of the counter. 'I managed to get to Italy, like Fabian and I had planned, but I couldn't stay there. I had started using Fabian's name, and a sympathetic clerk in British Ministry office in Rome recognized Prewett as one of the families fighting against Lord Voldemort. He organized safe passage for me to America and issued me official documents listing my name as Lavinia Prewett. And I came to San Francisco. It sounded exotic,' she added with a hint of her customary wryness.
'So you didn't use the Order of the Phoenix's system to get out of England?' Harry asked.
Lavinia snorted. 'Do you honestly think they would have helped me escape from England?'
Harry remembered the night when Dumbledore had offered to help hide Draco and Narcissa. 'I do.'
'I didn't want to risk it,' Lavinia stated. 'I didn't trust anybody.'
'You said you had a son that's a bit younger than me,' Harry stated, mentally counting in his head. 'Is he...?'
'Fabian's?' Lavinia sighed. 'Yes. I didn't realize I was pregnant until I'd been here a few months, and while I wasn't running out of money, I didn't want to spend what I had squirreled away if I didn't have to. I wanted to earn my way for once. The San Francisco branch of the Salem Institute is fairly close, and the person who provided potions ingredients to the school wanted to sell his business. So I bought it. There's a fairly spacious flat upstairs. It's where I raised Ben and any other child from the San Francisco school who needed a place to go because their parents wouldn't allow them to come home.' She slowly exhaled. 'Who's looking for me...?'
'Narcissa Malfoy,' Harry replied.
'You're joking.' Lavinia shook her head. 'Lucius would never allow it.'
'You don't know, then?'
'Know what?'
'Lucius died two years ago.'
Lavinia blinked. 'Merlin... He's really gone?' Harry nodded. She slumped to the counter, shoulders shaking. Suddenly, Lavinia sat up and looked at Harry wildly. 'You can't tell her I'm alive!'
'Why not?'
'Promise me you won't say anything!' she demanded.
'All right. I won't. But you have to tell me why.'
'I left that life behind, Mr. Potter,' Lavinia said severely. 'I like the life I have here and Ben was able to grow up without all the nastiness associated with being part Malfoy.'
'Don't you think he has the right to know he's got an entire family in Britain?' Harry countered.
Lavinia traced the grain of the counter. 'Listen, Mr. Potter, I understand where you're coming from, but I don't want to be found. Tell Narcissa you could trace Lavinia Malfoy as far as Italy and that's it.'
Harry nodded to the maitre d' of the snooty restaurant tucked into a side street of the Nob Hill neighborhood as he walked through the door, reflexively straightening his tie. 'I'm meeting my wife,' he said. 'Ginevra Potter.'
The man gazed at Harry in frank disapproval. Harry resisted the urge to glance at his suit. Ginny had chosen it and her taste in clothing was much better than his. He met the maitre d's eyes squarely, feeling his chin lift, ready to argue with the git for his attitude. 'This way,' the man sniffed, leading Harry to a table festooned with an inordinate amount of crystal, china, and silver. The heavy damask tablecloth was strewn with tiny candles and flower petals. The maitre d' swept the serviette off Harry's plate and draped it over his lap. Harry bit his lip, trying to not laugh aloud, keeping his eyes fixed on the plate. He accepted the menu from the maitre d' with a murmur of thanks and waited until the man minced his way back to the front of the dining room before breaking out into snickers that he smothered when other patrons began to look their way.
'Was it her?' Ginny asked.
Harry nodded, picking up a goblet filled with water, a paper-thin slice of lemon floating on the surface. 'Yeah.' He took a slow sip of the water and set the goblet down carefully. 'Can I ask you something completely hypothetical?'
'Of course.'
'If you knew one of your uncles had had a child, would you tell your mother?'
Ginny's eyes darkened suspiciously. 'Did she...?'
Harry's mouth turned down slightly. He knew he couldn't keep this from Ginny. 'Yes.'
'Oh...' Ginny's folded her hands in her lap and gazed at Harry. 'What did she say?'
'She asked me not to tell Narcissa about her, or anyone at all.'
'Ah.' Ginny smoothed her serviette over the knees and folded her hands in her lap. 'If we were talking about a complete stranger, what would you do?'
'I would record my findings in the case file, but I'd have to respect the wishes of the person in question.' Harry picked up a fork and began to trace patterns in the tablecloth. 'I'd also leave information with the person, in case they wanted to eventually contact who's looking for them.' An unctuous waiter appeared and rattled off a great many courses consisting of exotic ingredients. He and Ginny gave him their orders and Harry resumed the thread of their conversation. 'She has a son,' he said in a rough whisper.
Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. 'What...?' She knew it had to be Fabian's child, or else Harry wouldn't have mentioned it.
'Yeah. A bit less than a year younger than you,' Harry continued. 'And he knows nothing about her or even his own history.'
'You disagree,' Ginny stated.
'You know I do.' Harry gazed intently at the flame of the small candle in the middle of their table. 'I think she should at least tell him about you... us...'
Ginny nudged his ankle with her toes under the table. 'Are you going to mention anything to Mum?'
Harry shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know what to do... I think she should know, but I can't go against Lavinia's wishes. And I can't just lie to your mum...'
'Lying?' Ginny mused. 'It's not as if she can ask you to verify Fabian ever had a child. As far as she knows, he didn't. Withholding information...?' She trailed off as the waiter brought their starter course. He set what appeared to be a tiny collection of slivers of grilled vegetables, looking lost on the enormous plate in front of Ginny, then repeated the action with an equally large plate continuing a miniscule round of risotto, topped with tiny morsels of mushrooms with whimsical swirls of some sort of sauce around it. She gave Harry resigned look. 'Chinese takeaway when we go back to the hotel?' she sighed. At his nod, she continued. 'If you didn't personally know Mum, if she wasn't the closest thing to a mother you have right now, what would you do with this information?'
'I wouldn't say anything,' Harry said. 'Not to Molly, because she isn't directly involved in the case. The only person I can legally say anything to is Narcissa, because she initiated it.'
Ginny picked up her fork. 'Then there's your answer,' she told him softly, trying to suppress the tinge of sadness that colored her voice.
It was Harry's turn to nudge her ankle under the table. 'What is it, Gin?' he asked quietly.
Ginny dragged something purple around the plate. 'I wish I could meet him,' she finally admitted. 'We didn't really have cousins. Distant ones, yes. Mum and Dad's first cousins, but of course they were all much older than we were,' she added. 'It would just be nice...' She shook herself slightly. 'So, what's this Lavinia like?'
Harry felt a smile curve his lips. 'I think I know where Scorpius gets that rebellious streak from.'
Harry made his way into the magical neighborhood of San Francisco and trudged up the steep hill to the small shop just on the other side of the crest. The brightly painted shutters glimmered in the fog that rolled into the streets off the bay. Harry opened the door, making the tiny bells tinkle as he walked through.
Lavinia came from the back room, a mortar and pestle cradled in her hands. 'Mr. Potter!' she exclaimed. 'What can I do for you?'
Silently, the fingers of Harry's right hand began to unstrap his watch from his wrist. He held balanced on the palm of his hand out to Lavinia. She looked down at it and shook her head. 'No... I couldn't.'
'Benjamin ought to have it,' Harry insisted, feeling his throat close. How could he explain its loss to Molly and still maintain Lavinia's secret? That's something I'll have to deal with when it happens, Harry told himself. 'It belonged to his father.'
Lavinia reached out and gently closed Harry's fingers over the watch. 'It's yours,' she said simply. She squeezed Harry's hand a little. 'Molly Weasley must think very highly of you if she passed Fabian's watch on to you.' She smiled a little tremulously. 'And Ben...' She inhaled deeply. 'Ben knows his father. Better than I imagine my nephew knew his... ' She looked over Harry's shoulder as the door to the shop opened, admitting a tall man, roughly the same age as Harry.
Harry turned and felt his mouth drop open, before he closed it with a snap. It was more than a bit disconcerting to see Ginny's large, dark eyes in the face of a man who also had Ron's long nose. His shoulders were broad, in the manner of Bill and Charlie's. And all this time, I thought Bill had resembled Arthur the most in build. It was obvious Benjamin took after his father. None of the Malfoy men had that sort of build, as far as Harry knew. Benjamin nodded politely to Harry strode into the back room. Harry took the opportunity to press an envelope into Lavinia's hand. 'In case you change your mind,' he told her, then walked out of the shop and made his way through the enshrouding fog to Salem, where Ginny waited to return to England.
SIXTY SIX -- Book of Secrets
Lavinia sat at her small kitchen table and waved her wand at the lamp in the middle of it. Lamplight was asking for trouble in San Francisco, even though the entire building -- and every other building in the magical neighborhood -- had been charmed to a fare-thee-well to resist earthquakes. But like her preference for tea, lamplight was something from her former life she hadn't been able to give up.
The envelope Harry had pushed into her hands that morning sat in the middle of the table, glimmering palely in the warm glow of the light. She pulled it toward her and turned it over, running her thumb under the flap, breaking the seal. Several photographs spilled out, along with a thick sheet of paper. Lavinia thumbed it open, unsurprised at the note scrawled on it.
20 March 2020
It isn't my place to say, because I'm supposed to stay "neutral". I suppose I shouldn't have taken this, or discreetly asked one of my Aurors to take over, once it was obvious a member of my own family, no matter how long he's been gone, was involved. But what's done is done, and since I've already broken more than a few rules, I don't suppose one more will make a difference. I've never been one for rules, really, and I don't think you are, either.
Whether you'd ever want to return to England, even if it's just for a visit, is entirely up to you. But I'm being rather selfish in asking that you at least give Benjamin that option. My wife -- Ginny Weasley -- is his cousin. I don't think Molly or Arthur would deny him a place within their family. They've been mine since I was twelve. And they've always managed to find room for one more. All their children and their spouses, their grandchildren. Even my godson and his grandmother, who just happens to be Narcissa's older sister, Andromeda. It also includes your nephew Draco's son. He's my younger son's best friend at school. It's a somewhat tangled family tree, but it works all the same.
If you'd like to write to Narcissa, you can send the letter to me at the British Ministry of Magic. I'm the Head of the Auror Department. Or, you can send them directly to Narcissa. She lives in Nice most of the time. Maison d'Heron. In case you were wondering.
It was signed with a simple HP with no extraneous flourishes. Lavinia briefly wondered about Harry's ability to play poker. In the few hours she'd spent in his company, he didn't give much away. Even when he stoically attempted to return what he felt belonged to Benjamin, only a slight lowering of his shoulders betrayed how extraordinarily difficult he found it to be and how relieved he'd been to be able to keep it.
Lavinia lowered the paper and spread out the photographs, feeling somewhat detached. The topmost one was the most recent, according to the date written on the back. It was that past Christmas. Lavinia recognized Molly and Arthur right away. They hadn't changed much, even as they'd aged. She squinted a little, and was able to pick out their children from her dim memories of the days Fabian had shown her photographs of them. The oldest three were easily recognizable. She could still see the lines of their childhood faces under the planes of the adult visages she now examined. The youngest was easy to pick out. She had been the only girl, and she had eyes just like Fabian and Gideon had. Frowning, Lavinia counted the redheaded adults. There should have been nine, counting Arthur and Molly. She glared at the photograph for a moment, and realized what should have been a set of twins was only one man. Lavinia wondered what had happened to the other twin. Down at the bottom of the photograph was a boy who obviously didn't resemble the others. But he did somewhat resemble her father. That must be Draco's child. It seemed to be a raucous occasion. If there had been sound, it might have blown out the window. Lavinia set it aside and slid the other photographs toward her. The back of each one listed a date and a short description of the event. Weddings, birthdays, anniversaries. Lavinia swallowed past the lump in her throat. It was what Benjamin ought to have had.
How could she tell him now? Even if she had felt entirely justified in keeping it all from him, to try and shield him from the taint of her family or the rejection of Fabian's, it didn't detract that for over thirty years, she'd lied to her son.
Harry stuck a hand blindly out of the shower curtain, groping for a towel. Travelling by Portkey internationally was almost no better than using a Muggle aeroplane, like they'd done the summer before James had started school when they had taken a trip to California. They'd tried to have a normal, Muggle family holiday, but Silencing charms were brilliant for irate children, not to mention Shield charms to keep them separated in the backseat of a car. Both methods of travel left him feeling woozy and disoriented for a day or two. He and Ginny had made their way across America to New York, then took a Portkey that would bring them to the western edge of Wales. From there, it was a matter of Apparating back to Godric's Hollow. He and Ginny had just dumped their bags in the scullery and trudged up the stairs. Harry offered her the shower first, and it was a sign of how exhausted she was that she didn't slyly amend the offer to the two of them showering together. He managed to tug his boxers into place over still-damp skin and stumble into bed.
Ginny was curled on her side, blinking owlishly at his pillow. 'I was thinking,' she murmured, as he slid under the quilt. 'You wouldn't really be lying to Narcissa if you told her you weren't able to trace Lavinia past Italy...'
Harry frowned at her. 'But I did find her...' he objected, yawning.
'No... You found someone else.' Ginny slid her hand over his chest, feeling the steady bump of his heartbeat. Harry had told her the salient points of Lavinia's story while they were in San Francisco. 'The woman you talked to wasn't Lavinia Malfoy, was she?'
'Technically...'
'Technically my arse,' Ginny snorted, burrowing into her pillow. 'It wasn't. That woman started completely over. New name, new history, new home.' Ginny paused, and her voice cracked just a little. 'New family...' She shifted a little, curving herself into Harry's body. 'Do you think she'll tell him?'
Harry shrugged. 'I hope so...'
Parker felt something tug on the back of his robes. He twisted, keeping a steadying hand on his overstuffed school bag and barely avoided smacked the small first year girl who clutched a handful of fabric in her hand. He swung the bag to the floor, knowing he'd fall over if he tried to crouch to her level, and stooped so he could look the girl in the eye. 'You could have just said something, Cecily,' he told the Hufflepuff first-year.
'I tried,' she insisted, her voice squeaking a little in the crowded corridor. 'I've been calling and calling. You didn't hear me!' She held up a small rolled-up scroll. 'It's from Professor Moreno.'
'Thanks.' Parker ruffled the girl's hair and stood, frowning slightly at the scroll. He hefted the bag to his shoulder and continued to his Charms class, scanning the note as he walked, adroitly avoiding the other students. He sighed and changed directions, heading for Rafael's office. He knew what it was about, but had dreaded the actual appointment, considering there were things he hadn't told his own father. Parker's feet dragged a little, like a reluctant child. Percy would have expected him to follow a carefully plotted course they'd created after his fifth year when his O.W.L. scores came back. Percy had been so proud. And so had Molly. Eight O.W.L.s taken. Eight Outstandings. It made Parker's pulse beat faster to think about disappointing his father, but he knew he no longer fit that particular course in life. Just the thought of doing International Magical Law made him yawn with boredom. But Parker was one of those people who was not only eager to please, but hated to cause other people any sort of distress. He was almost grateful the Easter holiday was still nearly a month away. He could write to his father, let the inevitable ire burn out, and Penelope could talk sense into Percy, all before he came home for the holiday.
Even knowing all that didn't make the roiling of his stomach ease or lessen. Parker knocked on Rafael's open door, almost timidly. 'Great, you're early!' Rafael exclaimed. 'Come in, come in...' He waved his wand at the door, and it closed partially. Another jab at the door cast a well-placed Muffliato spell over it. Parker grimaced slightly. He knew Rafael did it for his own protection. More than one governor was squeamish about the idea of an openly gay man teaching children. They wrote countless letters to the Prophet, denying any sort of prejudice, yet at the same time, wondering, oh-so-subtly, if was a good idea to allow such a man -- men, really, including the Minister's brother -- to have access to all those young, impressionably children. If they could only have chaste, barren lives, the letters said, it would make it all so much more palatable... It was enough to make Parker nauseated. All that phony "it's in the best interest of the children" nonsense. 'Is there something wrong, Parker?' Rafael asked, searching Parker's face in concern.
Parker shook his head. It was useless to say anything. Besides, it wasn't something he hadn't already said before. 'No, sir.' He glanced at the open door and sighed.
Rafael caught the look and grinned deprecatingly. 'It's better than it was when I was your age,' he commented lightly. 'Change gets measured in inches, not miles.' He shrugged. 'No matter.' Shuffling a few papers on the desk, Rafael scanned Parker's thick file. 'Now, then, we need to arrange where you'll study for the next few years,' he began. 'International law is only behind being a Healer or an Auror for the level of training you'll have to do when you finish here.' He set a piece of parchment with a map on it between them and tapped it with his wand. Several countries glowed with pale violet light. 'You'll spend an average of three to six months in each foreign Ministry for the next three years. Then you'll return to Britain for a year as an assistant and then receive a post here or abroad.' He indicated the map. 'You do get to pick where you want to study.'
Parker studied the map and felt nothing. No excitement, no anticipation. They were all places he wanted to visit -- Nairobi, Japan, India, Tibet, New Zealand, Brazil, Argentina, Cote d' Ivoire, Egypt, even America. He found himself opening his mouth to say where he wanted to go, but instead said, 'I don't want to do this,' he muttered miserably.
Rafael sat back in his chair. 'I wondered when you were going to say something.'
'You knew?' Parker asked weakly.
Rafael shook his head. 'Kids these days. Think I fell off my broom last week.' He muttered something in Spanish that Parker didn't quite catch, but Rafael said it with a gentle smile. 'You took the very last appointment on the sign-up sheet. Normally, you're first. And the first to sign it. You were the last one. You're also always fifteen minutes early, and I had to chase you down for this one.' He shoved the welter of paper and parchment aside. 'So, then. Be honest with me. What do you really want to do? Even if it's silly.'
Parker shifted uneasily in the chair. 'Promise you won't laugh?'
'Promise.'
'Well, I'd like to go to... Wait... I ought to go back... Last Christmas hols, Iz asked Aunt Ginny what she would have done if she hadn't played Quidditch...'
'A reasonable question...'
'And Aunt Ginny said she might have considered going in to set curses at Gringotts. Said she knew more what she didn't want to do than she did. Then Iz asked her what she would have done if the Prophet hadn't offered her a job when she retired from the Harpies, and she told Iz she really didn't know. I guess when you did what they did you don't think too much about what you're going to do in five years... At any rate, I don't really know, Professor...'
'Parker,' Rafael said gently. 'You don't have to decide right now what you want to do with yourself.' He pulled open a desk drawer and took out a tin of biscuits, prying off the lid. 'Here...' He pushed the tin across the desk and Parker took a handful of chocolate biscuits. 'I'm surprised you haven't burned out sooner. Take some time off. Go backpacking through the Mediterranean coast. Spend a year or two tutoring magical kiddos whose parents don't have them attend a Muggle school before coming here. Either way, your N.E.W.T. results will still be there when you get things figured out.'
'My dad's going to be furious,' Parker sighed.
Rafael smothered a grin in the act of shoving a biscuit into his mouth. He'd known Percy for years, and had never seen anything ruffle the man's efficient demeanor. 'Are you waiting to tell him during the Easter break?'
'No... Thought I'd write him after I spoke to you.'
'Be honest with him. Tell him things have changed since you took your O.W.L.s and you need some time to figure out exactly what it is that you want to do with yourself. He'll understand.'
'That's not it.' Parker shifted in the hard chair, resisting the urge to pull his knees into his chest and wrap his arms around them. 'I know Dad will understand. He's always understood.' Parker's dark eyes filled and blurred. He looked down at his tightly folded hands, resting in his lap and blinked several times. 'I just don't want to let him down... He's so looked forward to this.'
Rafael bit his lip and busied himself with shuffling papers around his desk for a moment, tactfully giving the boy some time to collect himself. Like the other teachers, he sometimes forgot for a moment that Parker was only seventeen years old. He was usually self-assured beyond his years. 'I'll write you a pass back to class,' he murmured. Parker nodded mutely and accepted the small scrap of parchment Rafael handed to him. 'Or, you can sit in the classroom until it's time for your next class. I'll explain to Flitwick later.'
'I'd like to stay in the classroom, if you don't mind,' Parker mumbled. He lurched from the chair and stumbled into the empty classroom, dropping into the closest desk. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, before digging out a bottle of ink. He stared at the blank parchment for a moment before dipping his quill slowly into the ink with a long sigh.
25 March 2020
Dear Mum...
Draco rubbed his eyes and swung his feet to the floor. He hated the month of March. It wasn't cold enough to be winter, but not yet warm enough to be spring. And the weather was atrocious. Cold and damp. The only thing he could say to recommend it was that it fit his mood. His mother hadn't spoken to him beyond the bare minimum of decency, which limited her to stiff, polite conversation at meals. He reached for the dressing gown draped over the foot of the enormous bed and pushed his feet into scuffed slippers. Yawning, he pulled the shabby, but comfortable dressing gown over his arms and shuffled down the stairs, hoping to persuade Perri into giving him a cup of hot chocolate before breakfast.
His nose twitched at the scent of burning wood coming from the sitting room. Curiously, he peered through the open door, surprised to see Narcissa sitting in front of the fire, bundled into her own dressing gown, hair loose upon her shoulders, sipping tea.
Draco leaned against the doorframe and studied his mother for a moment. She looked nothing like she had when he was a child. He didn't think age had necessarily softened her, but little by little over the last several years -- even before Scorpius started school -- she had abandoned the strict formality of his earliest memories. 'I don't expect you to forgive me,' Draco said softly.
Narcissa continued to stare into the dancing flames, but one shoulder hitched.
'I just thought you should know...'
'Draco.' Narcissa turned slightly. 'When I think of what we went through... All those years...' Her breath caught. 'Angry does not even begin to describe what I feel. Disappointment that you didn't have the courage to...' She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Draco smiled mirthlessly. 'Nothing I don't feel every day, then,' he told her matter-of-factly, then strode down the corridor to the kitchen.
Harry wiped his clammy palms over the knees of his trousers. Narcissa was sitting expectantly in one of the chairs across from his desk. 'I really am sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I could only trace her as far as Naples.' He took a deep breath, and silently begged Lavinia to forgive him. 'They made arrangements for her to leave the country, but I don't know where she went.' It was a half-lie, but a lie all the same. 'And she probably left under an assumed name, but all the records from that time regarding the system to smuggle people out of Britain have been destroyed.'
'So it's possible she's still alive...?'
'Yes.'
Narcissa slowly exhaled, her eyes narrowed. She was too well acquainted with reading subtle bodily expressions to be fooled. Harry might not give anything away willingly, but there were tiny hints, namely how the skin around his eyes tightened. Some habits died hard, and some were simply immortal. Reading seemingly impassive facial expressions had been a survival technique she'd perfected as a child at her mother's breast. 'You're not telling me everything, are you?'
Harry raised a brow. 'I'm telling you everything I'm able to say ethically,' he finally stated.
'She doesn't want to be found, does she?' Narcissa guessed. Harry just gazed at her dispassionately. 'You are certainly man of your convictions, Mr. Potter,' she said coolly. 'If nothing else, then I must respect you for that.'
'Mrs. Malfoy...?' Harry ventured. 'If people want to remain hidden, they will do so, to the best of their abilities and desires, resisting the best efforts of the best people out there to find them. And sometimes, they hide in plain sight. But either way, they all have one thing in common: who they were before is not who they are now. And they don't want to return to who they were.'
Narcissa nodded shortly. 'I see.' She rose smoothly to her feet and held out a hand to Harry, who took it, surprised. 'I thank you for giving this your full attention, Mr. Potter. You were able to do far more than I had expected.'
'I wish it could have been more, Mrs. Malfoy. Truly, I do.' Harry shook Narcissa's hand, then escorted her to the lifts.
Benjamin Prewett let himself into the back door of his mother's shop and bounded up the stairs. 'Mom? Leo left his math book in the kitchen!' he called, as he took the stairs two at a time. 'Although April could have come and gotten it herself,' he grumbled, annoyed a little at being sent on this errand by his wife. He tested the door to the flat, and found it had been left unlocked, but it wasn't uncommon for Lavinia to leave the flat unlocked, if the shop itself was locked. 'Mom? Are you home?' There was no answer and Benjamin merely shrugged. His mother was a grown woman, and if she wanted to carouse around San Francisco, then she had every right to do so. He headed for the kitchen, spotting his son's math textbook in the middle of the table. 'Great. I swear, that boy's head would fall off if it wasn't attached to his body,' Benjamin muttered, carelessly snatching the book from the table. Photographs spilled across the table from under the book. Sighing, Benjamin dropped the textbook into one of the chairs around the table and began to scoop up the photographs.
Idly, he glanced down at the one on top. Benjamin didn't recognize the laughing couple. They seemed to be roughly his mother's age. He turned the photograph over curiously. Molly and Arthur, 24 June 2015. Benjamin searched his memory, but didn't recall an Arthur, nor a Molly among his mother's few close friends. Frowning, he set the photo down on the table, and examined the next one. Christmas 2019. There were the mysterious Molly and Arthur once again, but this time surrounded by a large group of people. 'Must be their family,' he murmured, setting it aside. The next one in the pile had a tall, lanky redheaded man and a smaller woman with curly brown hair. It was obviously their wedding, and Benjamin flipped the photo over. Sure enough, the back said in an angular scrawl: Ron and Hermione's wedding, 27 September 2003. Benjamin turned the photograph back over and stared at the man who must have been Ron. He traced over the slope of Ron's nose, then dashed to the stairs and ran up them to the small bathroom.
Benjamin faced the mirror and held the photograph up to his face, staring intently at the reflection. One hand rose to his own face and the tip of a blunt finger ran down his nose, eyes darting back and forth between the photograph and his face. What is my nose doing on his face? he wondered wildly. He opened a drawer and blindly scrabbled for a hand mirror. He stumbled back to the kitchen and dropped into a chair, fanning the photographs over the table. One photo stood out in particular. 'I've seen him before...' Benjamin breathed. He knew he'd seen an older version of the man with the messy black hair and oblong-framed glasses. Taking a deep breath, he turned the photo over. Harry and Ginny's wedding, 22 August 2000. Benjamin had vaguely recognized the man when he'd been in the shop last week, but couldn't place him. He still couldn't. But he could hear how his mother's British lilt became more pronounced in his company. He examined the photograph, carefully looking at his features in the mirror, then comparing them with the people in the photos.
Shaking, Benjamin set the mirror down, tidied the pile of photographs, then sat back to wait. Lavinia had to return eventually.
He was still in that pose when she did stroll through the door nearly an hour later. 'Ben, what are...' Her voice died when she saw the look on his face. She was taken aback to see the look of cold fury she'd only seen on Fabian's face a handful of times plastered on her son's. Her gaze fell on the neat stack of photographs and she felt the blood drain from her face. Lavinia numbly took the few steps necessary to close the distance to the kitchen table and stiffly perched on the edge of one of the chairs.
'Mom, who are these people?' Ben asked harshly. 'Who is Molly? And Ron? And why does he have my nose?' he demanded.
'Molly...' Lavinia licked parched lips and stared at the scuffed surface of the table. 'Molly was -- is -- your father's sister,' she admitted. She swept the photographs across the table and pointed to Arthur. 'That is her husband, Arthur. And all those redheaded adults in this picture...' Her hand hovered over the Christmas photograph. 'Are their children.'
'But, I thought Dad didn't have a family,' Ben blurted.
Lavinia shook her head. 'That's what I've let you believe,' she told him. 'When you were old enough to understand, and I told you that Fabian had been killed before you were born, you seemed to assume that Fabian and I had been alone with no family. And I never talked about them, so you never really asked. The only time you ever asked about any family we had, you asked about your grandparents, and by that time, they were, in fact, dead.'
Benjamin jabbed a finger at the bottom of the Christmas photograph. 'Who is that?' he asked. 'He looks a bit like you.'
Lavinia closed her eyes. 'His name is Scorpius. He's my nephew's child.'
Benjamin's lip curled slightly at the name. 'Was your nephew high when he picked that name?' he snorted.
'I don't believe so. My nephew's name is Draco. Perhaps he was hoping misery really would love company,' she added lightly, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. It fell flat.
Benjamin's mouth crimped and he rubbed the side of his hand under his nose. 'Why... Why didn't you tell me any of this?'
'How well do you remember your history?' Lavinia inquired, as if she were helping him with his homework.
'What does history have to do with this?'
'Oh, a great deal, indeed, Ben... Do you remember it?'
'I guess.'
'The last wizarding war in Britain?'
'Volde-something and Death... Death Beaters?'
'Voldemort and Death Eaters,' Lavinia corrected quietly. 'I had a brother, Lucius. He was one of those Death Eaters. Believed in the purity of blood. Believed that Muggle-born witches and wizards ought to have been driven out of Britain. Believed Muggles were a lesser being than magic folk.'
'Sounds like a nice guy,' Benjamin said dryly.
'He was aces,' Lavinia retorted, equally dry. 'He discovered, somehow, that I was involved with your father. And he hated Fabian and Fabian's family, because they didn't hold the same beliefs about blood purity. More than hate... More than loathe... More than even despise. He had Fabian killed along with his twin brother, Gideon.
'But he's dead now. Died an old, lonely, bitter man.' Her face hardened briefly. 'It was less than he deserved.' She slid the photographs together. 'He disowned me after... After Fabian... And I... I ran away. The person I was when I ended up in San Francisco was not who I was when I left England. I didn't want to be associated with them any longer, and when I found out I was carrying you, I vowed you'd be able to live without all of that hanging over your head. I don't have any family,' Lavinia maintained firmly, although her voice cracked. 'Other than you, April, Leo, and Marissa. I don't have any family,' she repeated.
Benjamin looked down at the photographs. 'Yeah?' he asked coolly. 'Well, it seems I do.' He stood up, pushing his chair back. When he made as if to pick up Leo's math textbook, the book flew across the room and slammed into the wall. The binding broke and pages fluttered all over the wooden floor. 'Oh, for the love of...' Benjamin huffed, jabbing his wand impatiently at the book. The pieces zoomed into his hands and he stormed from the flat, slamming the door behind him so hard, the framed photograph of Fabian sitting on the mantle of the fireplace rattled and crashed to the floor, its glass shattering into tiny pieces.
Lavinia's eyes drifted shut and the tears she'd held at bay slid down her cheeks.
SIXTY SEVEN -- Never an Orb Around When You Need One
Isabella met Neville outside the Great Hall. 'Sir, if it's about the team, Rosie's indicated she'd like to rejoin practices.'
'Well, that's a relief,' Neville said dryly. 'Although I'm sure Professor Williams might want to see the trophy in his office for once.'
'Not going to happen,' Isabella assured him. 'Not while I'm the team captain!'
Neville laughed and motioned for her to follow him. 'One thing I've learned is to never question the avid devotion of a Weasley's devotion to Quidditch. Nor a Potter's,' he added. 'Still interested in becoming a scout?'
'Absolutely,' Isabella confirmed. 'I've got no illusions about my skills --'
'Stop selling yourself short,' Neville chided. 'You're a very talented Chaser. Lots of teams would be lucky to have you on their practice squad, at the very least.'
Isabella shook her head. 'That's nice of you to say, Professor, but I'd like to keep playing because it's fun. I think if I had to play, it wouldn't be the same.'
'Fair enough.' Neville held a door open and ushered Isabella into an empty classroom, where McGonagall sat chatting easily with a few other wizards and witches. 'Here she is.'
'Ah, Miss Weasley,' McGonagall said. 'These people would like to test your ability to read a scouting report.' She pushed a folder across the table. 'Give us your unvarnished opinion.'
Isabella set her bag on the floor next to a desk, and opened the file. She frowned a little, because the topmost page that held the player's personal information -- name, age, position -- was missing. She carefully read through the file, digging into her bag for a Self-Inking Quill. Isabella underlined a few passages, and made a note here and there, then repeated the process. After several minutes, she closed the file. 'Well... First of all, since all I know about the person's age is that he's... Oh, what did they say...? Hmmm... Here it is... "Very young". Very young can mean he's just come of age to twelve. Judging the notes about his flying skills, he's got good innate ability, but could use some refining. His reflexes are good, but if he's on the younger end of the spectrum, he might need some time to adjust to the faster pace of the professional game. If he's playing on a school team, the Snitches are somewhat slower than the professional variety. Hardly anybody who plays recreationally uses professional-grade Snitches. I'd recommend that he start on the practice squad, because of his age, especially if he's not of age yet. Get his feet wet, see how he does.'
Neville threw a look at the wizard on McGonagall's left. 'Told you she could be neutral.'
'Who is this bloke, anyway?' Isabella asked, flipping through the folder once more. 'Must have bollocks of cast iron, if you're gagging for him so much...'
The wizard next to McGonagall smiled a little. 'I do believe you know him. Albus Potter.'
Isabella's eyes narrowed. Harry guarded his family's privacy with a fervor that bordered on maniacal. 'Do his parents know you're scouting their thirteen-year old son?'
'He's almost fourteen,' the wizard objected. 'And the British national team wouldn't even consider letting him work out until the next World Cup. Be sixteen then.'
'You'd put that kind of pressure on an underage wizard?' Isabella snorted. Because if you're going to consider playing him, you'd have to do it when he's fifteen. That's next summer, in case you're counting. Possibly even this summer, if he works with the practice squad.'
'Wouldn't be the first time a younger Seeker's played for a national team. Viktor Krum --'
'Yeah, I know. Viktor Krum played for Bulgaria when he was seventeen. Played professionally for ages. And now what? Hero-worship doesn't make up for never having a life. And I've read Krum's memoir. It's all Quidditch and a series of empty, meaningless relationships with one empty-headed bint after another!' Isabella was quite unaware she had risen to her feet. 'That might be a character weakness for Krum, but I'm going to say, in my professional opinion...' She took a deep breath. 'You'd be mad if you recruited Al now. He's not ready for it, physically. He's not old enough to sign a contract without his parents, and if you knew anything about them, they wouldn't agree to it, anyway.'
The wizard nodded. 'Very well done, Miss Weasley,' he said slyly. 'My sentiments exactly.' He shook McGonagall's hand, then Neville's. 'You did do a brilliant job. You did exactly what a scout is supposed to do. Your job isn't merely for the good of the team, but until the player signs with a team, the scout is their only advocate. Because you have to do what's best for them, too. At least the good ones do.' He started for the door. 'I'll pass on the results to Kenmare and Appleby. Good day, Miss Weasley, Professors.'
Isabella stared sightlessly at the table under her folded arms, murmuring a vague word of farewell to the wizard. The door closed behind him and Isabella glanced up at McGonagall and Neville. 'What was that?' she asked weakly.
McGonagall smiled a little. 'Your job interview, Miss Weasley. I do believe you managed to acquit yourself quite well.'
'Oh.' Isabella raised a shaking hand to her face and found it glazed with sweat. 'Even after I gave him a piece of my mind?'
'Because you did,' Neville told her. 'You said what he needed to hear. That's what counts.' He motioned to the door. 'Why don't you go down to dinner? And Izzy?' Isabella stopped and gave Neville a questioning glance. 'Be careful about to whom you reveal the purpose of this interview.' Neville cleared his throat. 'Especially the subject of that report.'
'Yes, sir.' Isabella slipped out of the room and made her way to the Great Hall, mulling over what Neville had told her. She picked at her meal and ate enough so that three of her cousins didn't send worried owls to her parents, then left for Gryffindor tower. She pulled her books from her bag, after settling into a secluded alcove, and with a sigh, began her Potions homework. She ignored the other students trickling in by twos and threes as they finished dinner, steadily completing her homework for the next two days until the common room was nearly empty, and only Al, Scorpius, Rose, James, Fred, Jacob, and Madeline still remained, arguing over a fine point of Quidditch strategy for Al's essay. Isabella slowly packed her books away in her bag and walked to the table. 'Can I talk to you for a mo?' she asked Al quietly.
'Erm, yeah...' Al looked confused.
'Alone...' Isabella glanced at the others significantly.
'Is this about the team?' Al demanded.
'Not especially,' Isabella admitted softly.
Scorpius' eyes flicked between Al and Isabella before he yawned widely and stretched elaborately. 'I think I ought to go up to bed. Getting late.' He knew whatever it was; Al would just tell him later anyway.
James prodded Jacob in the ribs. 'Come on. Let Al do his own homework for once.' James shared a look with Jacob and Fred. Between the three of them, they could find a way to -- persuade -- Al to spill the secret.
Madeline grabbed Rose's sleeve. 'Let's go up to my dormitory, Rosie. I'll fill you in on what we've been doing in practice. First one back is tomorrow, right?'
Rose gazed at Isabella for a long moment. She had Bronwyn's ability to hide behind an inscrutable facial expression. 'Yeah... I'm behind, aren't I...?' Even if they weren't there, none of them were able to keep secrets for very long and it would spread to the rest of them eventually.
Isabella blew out a frustrated breath. 'Oh, fine... Just stay, then,' she huffed. 'The rest of you lot will find out soon enough.' She dropped her bag to the floor and plopped into a chair next to Al. 'Have you gotten any odd letters from home?'
Al's forehead creased slightly. 'Not really...'
Isabella bit her lip, and studied Al's bemused face. 'Best to just come out and say it, isn't it? You're being scouted by England.'
James let out a whoop and sprang out of his chair, dancing around the table. 'Really? That's brilliant, isn't it? It's bloody fantastic, that is!' He glanced at the twins, goggling at him in surprise. Swiftly, he sat back down. 'I mean, yeah... That's all right.'
'But I'm only thirteen...' Al began.
'Sixteen by the next World Cup,' Rose interjected. 'And Krum---'
'Yeah, Krum was seventeen when he played in nineteen ninety-four against Ireland. It happens,' Al sighed.
Isabella nudged Al with her shoulder. 'You'd have to start training with the English team this summer,' she told him. 'That is, if Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny let you. You're too young to sign a contract without them.'
Al turned a quill over in his fingers. 'When will they say something?'
'They'll have to approach your parents first. So if they do say something, it would be by the Easter break.'
'What if I don't want to do it?' Al asked.
'Are you mad?' Jacob blurted. 'How many fourteen year-olds get to sign with a national team?'
Al shook his head. 'No... But I don't think I'd do a very good job of it right now. I'll be playing against blokes that are bigger, stronger...'
Madeline snorted. 'That's not what your mum said,' she scoffed.
'When did you talk to Mum about Quidditch?' James asked curiously.
'I didn't,' Madeline replied. 'She wrote an article about the abilities of women playing professional Quidditch, oh, about the time Al was born. And she said the being a good player wasn't a matter of either brawn or brains, but how you use both of them.'
'We read that in class,' Al said slowly. He ran a hand through his hair. 'How do you know about all this before Mum and Dad?'
Isabella briefly massaged her temples. 'I read the scouting report. I didn't know it was you until they told me. It was part of some barmy job interview.'
Scorpius sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. 'So part of what scouts do is read reports on players, then... What? Make a recommendation based on that?'
'Yeah,' Fred supplied. 'Usually to the team owner or captain, then they'll go see them play in person.'
Scorpius nodded, then eyed Isabella. 'What did you say?'
Isabella's jaw jumped. 'I told them he wasn't ready,' she admitted.
'You did?' Al asked, then slumped forward, on a long sigh of relief. 'Thank you...'
'I tried,' Isabella said sympathetically. 'But that doesn't mean they'll take anything I've said seriously. Their scout agreed with me, but that and two Sickles'll buy you a cup of tea. England still might try to recruit you.' She picked up her bag and slung it over a shoulder as she rose to her feet. 'I just thought you should know. I don't like surprises. And I don't fancy your dad does, either.' She trudged toward the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories.
The rest of the cousins rapidly cleared from the common room, giving Al long, contemplative glances as they did so. All save Scorpius, who lingered at the table, tactfully staring into the glowing coals of the fire, while Al packed away his things. 'What do you think?' Al asked.
'I think you should do what you think is best for you.'
Al sat in the chair, hugging his bag to his chest. 'Dad would say, "You're not even fourteen, you don't know what's best for you." He's probably right...'
'What would you choose? If you didn't have to worry about what your parents would say,' Scorpius persisted.
'I think I might have to say no...' Al sighed. 'It's a fantastic opportunity, but I don't think I could do it. Not now. When I'm older...' He shrugged. 'No use worrying about it until Mum or Dad says something. I'm going to bed.'
Harry sorted through the pile of letters that had been delivered after he and Ginny had returned from San Francisco. A dark-blue envelope with a stylized red lion decorating one corner piqued his curiosity. 'Hey, Gin?' he called. 'Were you expecting anything from the English Quidditch team?'
Ginny's head appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. 'No. Why?'
Harry waved the envelope at her. 'Got this while we were gone.' He handed it to Ginny. She took it and glanced at it with a frown. She turned it over and pried off the seal, pulling the heavy parchment from inside. A small crease appeared between her brows, deepening as she read.
'Oh, bloody hell...' she exclaimed softly. 'They want Albus!'
'What?' Harry snatched the letter from her and scanned it. 'What are they playing at?' He set the letter down on the table, resisting the urge to incinerate it with his wand. 'I'll not have it,' he said heatedly. 'He can't sign a contract without us yet. Not until he's seventeen. And I won't do it.'
Ginny picked up the letter again and skimmed it. 'Normally, I'd chide you for overreacting,' she began, 'but I have to agree with you on this one.'
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Is normalcy too much to ask?'
Ginny flicked her wand at the cupboard and two cups landed neatly on the table. Another flick brought the kettle sailing toward her, steam already wafting from its spout. She poured the boiling water into the waiting teapot and sent the kettle back to the stove. 'For you? Yes.' Ginny calmly poured tea into the waiting cups. 'What if Al wants to do this?'
Harry's expression grew pained. 'Gin, he's not even fourteen yet. And according to this, they want him to start practicing with the team during his upcoming summer hols. It's summer hols, for Merlin's sake! That's when he ought to be ogling girls in the village and skiving off his homework. Not worrying about bleeding Quidditch matches that ride on his scrawny shoulders.'
Ginny took a sip of her tea and set the cup down. 'It's less than what you had to deal with when you were fourteen,' she said pointedly.
'I didn't have a choice,' Harry told her flatly.
'But he does,' Ginny reminded him gently. 'Isn't that what you've always wanted for them? To actually have a choice?'
Harry gaped at her for a long moment. 'I hate it when you use logic like that,' he muttered. 'Been around Hermione too much.'
Ginny chuckled softly and leaned forward to kiss Harry. 'Stop sulking. Everything will be fine.'
'Promise?'
'I'll see what I can do.'
Daphne's head tilted to the side, as she carefully fastened an earring into her ear. The small emerald teardrops were one of the few things she had from her mother. The doorbell's sonorous toll echoed through the quiet house several times. 'Draco!' she called. 'We gave Perri the night off, or have you forgotten?' The only reply that met her was silence. She began to work the other earring into the opposite ear, a sigh of irritation hissing through her teeth as the doorbell rang once more. 'Where did he get off to?' she muttered, lightly skipping down the stairs. 'We're supposed to leave in a few minutes...' She yanked the heavy front door open, her mouth falling open in surprise to find Draco standing nervously on the other side.
'This is how you're supposed to do it, isn't it?' he asked, tugging at his shirt collar. 'Pick you up...?'
Daphne's lips twitched and she thought she might faint from the strain of not laughing aloud, but she managed to keep a more-or-less straight face. 'I wouldn't know,' she pointed out. 'It's not as if I've gone on very many first dates.' She smiled a little at Draco. Normally, he was outwardly calm, never allowing so much as the point of a shirt collar to go awry, but the edge of his collar was turned up over the neck of the jumper he wore. She reached out and smoothed his shirt collar down. 'You look fine,' she assured him. 'I think I'm supposed to ask you to come in.' Daphne gestured for Draco to come into the foyer. 'I'll be just a moment.' She disappeared behind a door and emerged with coat. Before she could so much as put her arms through the sleeves, Draco plucked it from her hands and held it out for her. Daphne bashfully slid her arms into the sleeves, her head ducking slightly as Draco settled it on her shoulders.
'I may be a convicted criminal,' he said sardonically, 'but my mother did instruct me in the arts of gentlemanly behavior.' He offered Daphne his arm and she stared at him for a moment, startled, before she slid a tentative hand through his elbow.
They left the house and began to walk toward the front gate. 'Where are we going?'
'Some café Andrew recommended. He told me people wouldn't know us...'
Daphne's shoulders slumped imperceptibly with relief. The evening was already nerve-wracking as it was, and she didn't think the tension would lessen if they tried to do this in a wizarding community. 'How very perceptive of him,' she murmured.
Draco snickered a little. 'That is what I pay him for.' He opened the gate and consulted the scrap of parchment in his pocket. 'Ready?' At Daphne's nod, he tightened his grip on her hand and Apparated them to a darkened alley in London.
Light spilled into the alley along with a cacophony of sound and Draco felt his fingers contract around Daphne's. Daphne's eyes widened a little and without turning her head she whispered, 'Are we going there?'
'Yes.'
'Oh.' Daphne took in a deep breath. 'All right.'
Neither of them moved.
Daphne looked at Draco from the corner of her eye. He looked petrified. 'On three, shall we? One, two, three...' She took a step forward, tugging at Draco's hand. He followed her, the habitual haughty mask falling into place. The crept to the entrance of the alley and stared entranced at the sea of humanity surging along the pavement bathed in the bright lights of the signs that adorned the buildings. 'Which direction?'
'I don't know,' Draco breathed. 'I suppose we could walk for a bit and find out?'
Daphne nodded and glanced around. 'Right or left?'
'Left!' Draco said recklessly. He shifted his grip around Daphne's hand and plowed into the crowd. 'It's on Glasshouse Street,' he told her, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. He suddenly stopped and Daphne walked into him. 'What is that?' he asked, pointing at a window where a middle-aged woman expertly wound fluffy pink strands around a paper tube.
'Candy floss, I think.'
Draco whirled around, his eyes alight with curiosity. 'Have you ever had it?' he demanded.
'A time or two,' Daphne admitted sheepishly.
Draco dragged Daphne into the brightly lit, somewhat dingy shop and joined a queue behind several rather colorful teenagers. At length, they reached the counter. 'Two of those,' Draco told the bored-looking young man behind the counter, gesturing to the woman in the window.
'Five pounds.'
Draco dipped a hand into his pocket and unearthed a wad of Muggle money. He peered confusedly at the notes for several moments, oblivious to the impatient grumbles behind him. 'Forgot your glasses again, did you?' Daphne said a shade louder than she would have said normally. Draco looked at her, baffled. She peeled a note from Draco's sweaty hand. 'Here,' she said to the man holding two large balls of pale pink fluff, passing him the note and accepting one of the paper tubes. Draco took the other and returned to the street, taking a large bite of the candy floss. It immediately dissolved on contact with his tongue. Bemused, he attempted another bite, larger than the first, only to have it disappear almost instantly.
'What kind of dark magic is this?' he hissed, his eyes narrowing at the sweet in his hand.
Daphne daintily pinched off a piece of the candy floss and giggled. 'It's only spun sugar,' she said.
'It's practically nothing,' Draco grumbled. He copied his wife's actions and pulled some of the sweet off the larger ball and inserting it into his mouth. 'I don't get it,' he sighed.
'It's fun...' Daphne tilted her head to one side. 'Didn't you ever have fun as a child?'
'No.' It carried no self-pity, only a matter-of-fact testament to the rigidity of his childhood.
Daphne's eyes lowered to her own candy floss, quietly eating it as they meandered up the street. 'Here's Glasshouse,' she said.
Draco tossed the remains of his candy floss into a dustbin and pulled out the scrap of parchment with the café's address scrawled on it. 'Erm... This way...' He led Daphne down the street a block or two until they came to the quiet, dimly lit café. Small tables were scattered around the room, interspersed with an odd sofa here and there. Soft music wafted over the babble of conversation. Nobody even glanced up when the two of them walked inside. True to Andrew's word, it was a perfect location for their first date. Draco doubted anyone would be able to give accurate descriptions of neither him, nor Daphne once they left. They could be anonymous to everyone except each other.
Daphne studied the menu on the wall behind the counter. 'Excuse me?' she asked the young woman, leaning on the counter. 'What is a Why Bother Cappuccino?'
'Made w'i skim milk an' decaf espresso,' she informed Daphne with a smirk.
'I see. Why bother...?'
'Exac'ly,' the girl agreed. 'On'y th' stick insect types ask f'it.'
'Stick insect?'
The girl waved a hand in the air. 'Y'know... Th' ones tha' on'y eat rab'it food an' lis' th' gym as their secon' home.'
Daphne didn't, in fact, know the sort of people the girl spoke of, but she murmured in assent. 'I'll have a regular cappuccino, then.'
Draco ordered a coffee for himself and once more found himself bewildered by the Muggle money clenched in his hand. 'Makes no bloody sense,' he mumbled.
Daphne tugged a ten-pound note from his hand. 'You really must remember your glasses,' she said admonishingly, giving the girl behind the counter an apologetic glance. Their drinks paid for, they found a table tucked into a corner, away from the other patrons.
'Why do you keep telling me I need to remember my glasses?' Draco asked. 'You know just as well as I do that I don't need them!'
'To cover up that you don't understand Muggle money,' Daphne calmly replied, sipping her coffee.
'There are all sorts of numbers and pictures all over it,' Draco grumbled. 'Five, ten, twenty, fifty... Doesn't make any sense at all...'
'And Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts would to a Muggle?'
Draco buried his nose in his cup, flushing dully. 'Did you ever have fun as a child?' he asked abruptly.
'When my parents were alive,' she said softly. 'We weren't very prominent, so they did things with us that most parents of our social circle would have absolutely abhorred. They were very hands-on with us. Let us mingle with the other children in the village.' Daphne paused and stole a peek at Draco over the rim of her cup. 'Even the Muggle children,' she added, watching him carefully for a reaction. 'At least until my mother died,' she sighed.
Draco frowned. He knew Daphne's mother had died well before their marriage, but had never bothered to ask about her. 'When did that happen?'
Daphne set her cup down and wrapped her hands around it. 'Third year of school,' she murmured. 'And then my father died four years after the end of the war. After Mum died it wasn't prudent for us to continue to do any of the Muggle things we had done before, because, well...' She trailed off, embarrassed. 'With Voldemort coming back...' She took a gulp of her coffee to cover the awkwardness, nearly scalding her tongue in the process. 'And Ian grew rather, erm -- strident -- in his beliefs. I think Dad was afraid he'd turn us all in. So we became the perfect picture of a pureblood family. Dad had to hide most of my books. The ones written by Muggle authors, at any rate. I didn't bring them back out until we were married. I practically had to smuggle them out under Ian's nose.' She shook herself a little. 'Sorry. Didn't mean to get maudlin on you.' Daphne rested her elbows on the table. 'What about yours?'
'What about mine?'
'When you were a child...'
'Oh...' Draco sat back in the chair. 'My father used to tell me bedtime stories about what Voldemort could do to Muggles or wizards and witches who didn't live up to his standards. Made my hair stand on end. Watched him terrorize the house-elf. Forced to join the Death Eaters...' He made a deprecating face. 'You know. The usual.' He stared moodily into his coffee. 'I suppose I'm sort of glad we only have the one child. Minimize the damage.'
'I always wondered why we only had one,' Daphne mused. 'I've always assumed it was to eliminate competition between the heirs. Less Merovingian that way.'
Draco gaped at her for a moment, then began to chuckle. 'Well, when we had a son, that's all that was needed. I knew you weren't very happy being married to me and I'm quite certain there were a few... aspects... of our marriage that were not pleasurable for you.' Draco sipped his coffee. 'I'm rather surprised you didn't seek that elsewhere.'
Daphne inhaled a sip of coffee and began to cough, spluttering into a paper serviette. 'What?'
Draco shrugged. 'I wouldn't have blamed you. I haven't exactly been friendly toward you.'
Daphne looked down. Making some sort of tart comment would have been too easy. It was enough for her just now that he could admit he hadn't made much of an effort for the past fifteen years. 'Would you have wanted to have more children?' Daphne ventured tentatively.
Draco chewed his lip thoughtfully. 'It might have been nice,' he said at length. 'For Scorpius. Then he wouldn't have been so alone.' His brow rose slightly. 'Or at least he wouldn't have been subjected to Ian's son Geoffery so often,' he said meaningfully.
'So you noticed the bullying?'
'I did. Unfortunately, your brother doesn't seem to understand subtlety.'
'Geoffery's not bothered Scoprius so much since one of Scorpius' friends punched him.'
Draco nodded, meditatively rubbing his nose. 'Like mother, like daughter,' he mused. 'Granger had a wicked right hook. Wonder if she can still hit like that...'
Draco escorted Daphne to her bedroom door. 'I had a nice time,' she said softly.
'You did?' Draco blurted, surprised.
Daphne's hand landed on the doorknob. 'Your company isn't entirely disagreeable. When you aren't trying to emulate your father, that is.'
'Would you like to try it some other time...?'
'I would.' Surprising both of them, Daphne reached up and gently kissed Draco's cheek, before disappearing into her bedroom.
A/N: I used to work in a coffee bar in college and we had a Why Bother Cappuccino on the menu. People would ask what it was, and I'd explain it was made with skim milk and decaf espresso, and the usual response was, 'Yeah... why bother...?'
SIXTY EIGHT -- Parental Expectations
Ron walked into Hermione's office and came to a surprised stop. She must have a new assistant, he mused. Everything about the witch screamed competence, from her neatly swept-back hair to her precisely pressed robes. It made Ron feel slightly grungy, clad as he was in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that could handle the rigors of the shop and stained trainers.
The young woman sitting behind the desk gave him a contemptuous once-over and asked, 'May I help you?'
Ron drew himself to his full height and gazed at the witch down his long nose. 'Is my wife in her office?' he asked with a slight chill to his voice.
The witch consulted an appointment diary and tilted her head back to glare at Ron. 'She is,' she said shortly.
'Thanks,' Ron told her and stalked into Hermione's office. 'New assistant?' he snarled to her.
Hermione glanced up and sniffed hopefully in his direction. 'Is that lunch?' she asked, gesturing with her quill toward the basket Ron carried in one hand.
'Yes, and you didn't answer my question,' replied, holding the basket just out of reach.
'Yes, she's my new assistant... Her mum's in the Wizengamot.' Hermione admitted. 'She's rather intense, isn't she?'
'Just a little.' Ron drew a chair closer to Hermione's desk. 'Haven't had anyone make me feel that inferior since I was in school. Has a worse glare than McGonagall.' He pushed a sandwich across the desk to her.
'Yes, well...' Hermione unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. 'My last assistant got promoted and she's sort of temporary until I can find a more permanent one.'
'Does she know that?'
Hermione sighed. 'Yes.'
Ron chewed his sandwich and eyed the closed door. 'Hm. Wonder if she's an only child?'
'What makes you say that?'
'It's what Percy would have been like if he didn't have the rest of us to smack him around a little.' Ron reached into the basket and slid a thick envelope across the desk.
'What's this?' Hermione picked up the envelope and pulled it open. 'Portkey tickets to Seville?'
'Happy birthday?' Ron said sheepishly.
'Birthday's not until September.' Hermione glanced down at the tickets. 'And these have a departure date of April fifth.'
'Erm...' Ron's ears turned pink. 'I thought you might need a bit of a holiday... with everything else that's been going on...'
'Oh?' Hermione studied the two pieces of parchment. 'Why Seville?'
'It's warm... and sunny...'
'You think I need a warm, sunny holiday?'
Ron picked at the edge of his sandwich. 'Yeah, I do...' He looked at her from under his eyelashes. 'I think you need to take some time and relax.'
'And I have to go to Spain to do that?' Hermione asked in amusement.
Ron sighed and took a bite of his sandwich. 'Yes,' he said in finality. 'Yes, you do.' Hermione set the parchment down and stared at the two tickets. 'I'm surprised you remembered to breathe over the last year.'
'Breathing's an automatic reflex,' Hermione murmured offhandedly. 'We'll be back by the time Rose and Hugo come home for the Easter holiday?'
'Yeah.'
Hermione nodded. 'All right.'
Ron blinked. 'Really? You're just going to leave work behind for a week and take a random holiday? Just like that?'
Hermione snorted. 'Says the man who still works over fifty hours, six days a week in the shop.'
'Touché.' Ron grinned at her. 'And neither of us takes work with us.'
Hermione bit her lip. 'No work for either of us?' She ran a fingertip over the tickets. 'What are we going to do for a week with no work to do?'
'Use your imagination,' Ron retorted. He pushed the chair back and stood up, leaning across the desk to kiss her. 'See you at home.'
Benjamin hunched over the kitchen table, patiently helping Leo with his math homework. Math was Leo's least favorite subject and as such, had a tendency to dawdle over it. 'I don't see how being able to solve algebraic equations will help me charm things,' Leo muttered.
'Do you want to be like Martin Sanchez?' Benjamin asked. 'Parents wouldn't send him to a Muggle school and he can barely add ten and ten without taking his shoes and socks off so he can count on his fingers and toes.'
'Martin's a stuck-up jerk,' Leo huffed, the tip of his pencil grinding into his paper so hard it snapped.
Benjamin ruffled his son's hair. 'It's your bedtime, anyway. Go on up.'
'I'm not done with my homework...' Leo protested weakly.
'You'll finish it in the morning while you're eating breakfast,' Benjamin told him. 'And no flying this weekend.'
'But, Dad...'
'How many times have your mom and I told you not to wait until two hours after dinner to do your homework?'
'Lots...'
Benjamin smothered the laughter that bubbled up. 'Stop pouting,' he chuckled. 'You brought it on yourself.'
'But Ricky's dad doesn't make him finish his homework over breakfast,' Leo whined.
'Do I look like Ricky's dad?'
'No...'
'Good night, Leo.'
Leo heaved a huge, put-upon sigh. 'Good night, Dad...' He padded up the stairs of the narrow house and his footfalls soon faded, followed by the sound of water running in the bathroom. Benjamin slumped, propping his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.
April set a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. 'Thanks,' Benjamin sighed.
'So are you going to tell me why you've been lumbering around like a wounded hippogriff for the past few days?'
Benjamin sighed and cradled the mug between his hands. 'Mom lied to me... About my father, about herself. I don't even know what's true or not.' He sipped his coffee, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. April had grown up in Seattle, spending her summers working in a coffee shop and her coffee was strong enough to cut through the cold, misty fog that billowed outside their windows. 'She says her family was one of the biggest supporters of that Dark wizard that died a couple of years before we finished school. And my dad fought on the other side... Said she never told me to protect me from the stigma,' he finished on a sarcastic drawl.
April set her sock-clad feet in Benjamin's lap, and he automatically reached down and began to run his thumb firmly down the sole. 'Didn't you ever pay attention in history class?' she scoffed.
'No,' Benjamin replied truthfully.
April leaned back in her chair, sighing in bliss as he transferred his ministrations to her other foot. 'I looked it up,' she said softly. 'The war in England. Before we got married.' When Benjamin's gaze snapped up to meet hers, she continued blithely, as if he hadn't reacted. 'I do know how to do research, Benjamin,' she said pointedly. 'And I have Salem's entire library at my fingertips.'
Benjamin snorted, wrapping his long fingers around April's feet. 'You have too much time on your hands.'
'Hmmm. And being the librarian at Salem is totally useless,' April said, with a toss of her dark hair. She tugged her feet from Benjamin's grasp. 'Let me ask you something...'
'Don't see how I could stop you.'
'If it had been you with Leo and Marissa... And you'd had to leave all that behind and start over, in order to make their lives better than yours, and to protect them; would you have told them everything?'
'Oh, don't do that,' Benjamin sighed with disgust. 'Don't pile that psychological crap on me.'
'Just answer the question,' April prodded.
'You ought to have been a lawyer with the Aurors,' Benjamin told her, trying to divert her attention.
'Nice try. Just think about it, will you?'
'Would you believe me if I said, "yes"?'
'No.'
Benjamin took a large sip of his coffee. 'I have six cousins on Dad's side of the family. Six. And they're all married with families. I've even got a cousin on Mom's side. And he apparently has a kid, too. I've spent the last thirty-eight years thinking she and I were alone in the world, and then when she got older, I wondered if something ever happened to Mom, how I would handle it by myself. And I have this enormous family in England somewhere. All this time. And she was never going to tell me. So, no, April, I would not ever allow Leo or Marissa to think they had no one else.'
Ginny stood on the staircase of the Burrow, leaning so close to an old photograph of her uncles Fabian and Gideon, her nose nearly touched the glass. She had nothing to compare it to, save her own memory. She felt Harry's arms slip around her waist. 'Your lunch is getting cold,' he said quietly.
'Who does he look like?' she asked.
Harry didn't have to ask the "who" to which she referred. He exhaled slowly, his breath stirring the hair on top of Ginny's head. 'Him,' he said, even more softly. 'Red hair. It's even wavy like his. He's got a cowlick in the same place,' he added, indicating the way Fabian's hair lifted from over his left eye. 'It's like the one George has. Like the one your mum has.' One finger ran down the bridge of Fabian's nose. 'Got Ron's nose. It was a little... shocking, I suppose, to see it on someone else's face, yeah? Since the only people I've ever seen with it are actually Ron and Hugo...' The gentle fingertip traced the line of Ginny's arching brows. 'He's got your eyes. Well, his eyes,' he amended, nodding toward the photograph of Gideon and Fabian on the wall. 'They're different in a masculine face,' he mused, his eyes closing as he pictured Lavinia's son. 'Fierce, like yours, when you're confronted by something you see as dangerous. That's how he looked at me when I saw him in their shop. But, yours have this light in them. Not that his are cold,' Harry said. 'They have this wariness to them. You watch and observe first, then hex later. I get the feeling he'd hex first.' He took a small step back. 'Tall. Broad-shouldered. Like Bill.' Harry smiled widely. 'I'd always wondered how Bill got that build, considering your dad's on the thin side. Gets it from them,' he said, inclining his head once more at the photograph. 'Got their cheekbones,' Harry whispered. 'Hers,' he clarified. 'And her ears.'
Ginny swallowed heavily. 'Did you tell her about us?'
'I did.' Harry hesitated, then decided it was best to tell her. 'I even gave her copies of photographs,' he admitted.
'Bribery, eh?'
A ghost of a chuckle came from Harry. 'Persuasion.'
'Do you think that'll help?'
'I don't know.' Harry brushed his lips over the edge of Ginny's ear, exposed by her drawn-back hair. 'I do know it's useless to dwell on it.' He guided her toward the stairs. 'Come on, love... Your mum's getting suspicious. Thinks you're ill.' Ginny's eyes rolled in exasperation. 'Actually, she thinks the, erm...' Harry made scissoring motions with his free hand. 'Thinks it didn't take and that you're...' The hand curved over his stomach.
'Oh, good Lord,' Ginny grumbled. 'What on earth made her think that?'
'You did bolt from the table when she served lunch,' Harry said.
'I only remembered this photograph was here,' she argued.
'You couldn't wait until after lunch?'
'No.'
Harry snorted. 'I hope you've got a good story to tell Molly, then.'
Ginny slid down the wall, perching on the edge of the riser. 'I hate knowing and not being able to tell her about him. And she knows I'm hiding something,' she added darkly. Harry glanced at her askance. Their impromptu trip to America had only garnered mild interest from the rest of the family that had faded when informed it was for a case Harry was overseeing. They had grown accustomed over the years to somewhat secretive nature of Harry's job. 'She knows. Mums always know,' Ginny insisted. 'Don't you think you ought to warn her, somehow? Just in case he decides to come over here?'
Harry dropped to the stairs next to her. 'I promised her,' he maintained. 'I suppose we'll deal with it if -- and that's a rather large "if" -- his mother tells him anything. That's what it all comes down to, Gin.'
'And you really don't think she will?'
'She was fairly adamant about not telling him anything,' Harry said with a shrug. 'But she could.'
'What are the two of you whispering about?' Molly appeared on the landing below them. 'Like a pair of teenagers sneaking around, you are.'
'Nothing, really,' Ginny said, wincing at how strained she sounded. 'Just some rubbish about the English team wanting to sign Albus to play in the next World Cup.'
'You're not going to allow that, of course,' Molly said immediately. 'He's too young.'
'No, Mum, we're not,' Ginny said, pulling herself to her feet, grateful for the change of subject.
Parker settled in his usual chair, and pulled out his books, arranging them in order of difficulty, with the most difficult subject first. If he got that out of the way first, the rest of it wasn't so horrible. Or it didn't seem that way. He pulled the Transfiguration textbook off the top of the pile and opened it to the chapter for that night's homework. He pulled out a fresh quill and unscrewed the lid of his bottle of ink and... Nothing. He sat at the table, surrounded by other students writing essays, making star charts, researching spells and potions. And for the first time in his life felt absolutely no compunction to actually even attempt any of his homework. His eyes flicked from one side to another, the others seeming to move at double speed, while he seemed to stay motionless, suspended in an isolated bubble of space. He'd never in his relatively short life failed to complete any assignment.
Fred and Jacob occupied a table nearby with James and Madeline. 'I think he's finally gone and snapped,' Fred murmured in an undertone to his twin.
'Always figured he would,' Jacob agreed.
'You did not!'
'I did, too!'
'Hush, the both of you,' Madeline hissed. 'He's not snapped.'
James glanced at Madeline. 'Erm, Maddie? He's been sitting there staring at the same page of his book for the last...' He checked his watch. 'Forty-three minutes. He doesn't just do that. And he's got N.E.W.T.s coming up.'
'Maybe he's just taking a break!' Maddie countered.
Jacob shook his head. 'Nah. If anyone of us would snap, it's bound to be Parks,' he stated. 'None of us have ever been so eager to please our mums or dads with the marks like he is. Not even Vic.'
'Has he blinked at all?' Fred asked.
'Yeah,' James said. 'Just now.'
Isabella dropped her bag on the table next to James. 'What are you staring at?'
James didn't reply, but gestured with his chin toward Parker, still sitting unmoving in front of his books.
'Oh, for the love of...' Isabella tugged her Charms textbook from her bag and set it on the table with a bang. 'Go back to the common room if you're just going to treat Parker like a freak show, eh?'
'But --' Fred protested.
'Just go,' Isabella sighed. 'The lot of you.' She waited until they had left, then counted slowly to one hundred, waiting for one of them to suddenly "remember" some scrap of parchment they'd forgotten. When it was obvious none of them would return, she slid into a chair next to Parker and nudged him with an elbow. 'Something on your mind?' she asked casually.
'Not really,' Parker grunted.
Isabella indicated his empty parchment. 'You haven't started your homework,' she said.
Parker's jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. 'So?'
'Not like you. You're always the first one to get it started and go above and beyond what's been assigned. And exams are going to be here before you know it. We'll have revision to do...'
'I don't even know if I want to take them,' Parker muttered.
'But you have to take them!' Isabella gasped.
'I don't even know what I want to do,' he mumbled miserably. 'Why bother taking them?'
'I thought you were going into International Magical Law...?'
Parker shook his head, blinking rapidly. 'I was,' he said in a strained voice.
'Have you talked to your mum or dad?' Isabella asked hesitantly.
'Wrote to Mum last week. Haven't heard back from her.'
'Hm.' Isabella sat back in her chair and contemplated the stack of books that walled them off from the rest of the library. 'You think she's told your dad?'
'I don't know...'
Isabella patted Parker on the back. 'Cheer up, then,' she began. 'I'm sure if she had said something and Uncle Perce got his pants in a twist over it, the Howler would have been here by now.'
Parker laughed weakly. 'Wouldn't that be something? To not receive a Howler from home for nearly seven years, then get one just as I'm finishing school.'
Isabella pushed her chair back. 'You know, I thought Mum would go spare when I told her and Dad I was going to become a Quidditch scout,' she mused. 'Especially with her being a Healer, I thought she might want me to do that, or something a bit more scholarly. But she didn't. Said she'd support me whatever I decided to do. Even work with dragons, although she muttered something about Dad dropping me on my head when I was a child while she was doing the washing up after dinner.'
'Bet Dad wishes he dropped me on my head on a stack of law books,' Parker retorted.
'Never know until you ask,' Isabella told him.
'I know... That's what I'm afraid of...'
Hermione yawned and stretched, her eyes opening to an unfamiliar room. It was much more luxurious than her bedroom in London. She turned her head on the pillow, nearly startled to find Ron quite a distance away from her. Compared to their bed in Bloomsbury, this one was as vast as an ocean. She slid quietly from under the bedding and grabbed her dressing gown from a nearby chair. The room had a private terrace, and with a tap of her wand on a stiff piece of parchment, a tray of tea and rolls appeared on the table, tucked into a corner. She poured a cup of strong, fragrant tea for herself and buttered a roll, dropping into a chair, and enjoying the stillness of the early morning. The past few days had been nearly idyllic with nothing to do. It reminded her of the first few weeks after the war had ended and she and Ron gamboled around the Burrow and its environs with little to do, save enjoy the bright summer days. And like those days, she keenly missed her mother.
It didn't send her into torrents of grief, which had surprised her when her mother had died. In fact, once the initial feelings of relief had faded, Hermione had been more than a little shocked to find she didn't dwell on it much, if at all. But the lack of outright mourning didn't necessarily mean she didn't miss Jane. She reflected, rather wryly, that it didn't matter how old the calendar said she was, she still needed her mother. Hermione recalled with vivid clarity how prickly she'd been when she was Rose's age, and wondered how her mother had managed to stay as patient as she had. In truth, Rose was more like Ron, and Ron and been twice as touchy as she had been. Hugo was sometimes a complete mystery to her. By turns intense and introverted, she was never quite certain what went on behind that calm façade of his. It was infuriating. She was certain her mother would have been able to decipher him.
'Wha' are you doin' up so early?' Ron asked, sleepily, shuffling onto the terrace.
'I'm always up early.'
'First real holiday in years, and you're up before the owls come back to roost,' Ron grumbled, pouring his own cup of tea, and sipped it, cradling the cup in his hands.
Hermione smiled a little. 'We could try to leave the room today,' she told him.
Ron flushed slightly, burying his nose in the cup. 'Maybe. But I find the scenery right here rather fetching.'
'Which you could have seen without leaving London,' Hermione pointed out dryly.
'True, but it's cold and rainy in London. At least here you can see the sun,' Ron argued. He dropped into the chair next to Hermione and propped his bare feet on one of the empty wicker chairs clustered around the small table.
'Two Portkey tickets to Seville, and we only get to see the inside of this positively lovely hotel room...' Hermione broke off the edge of a roll. 'I'm all right with that.'
Ron reached for the rest of the roll. 'So... How are you doing...?'
'I'm fine,' Hermione said, picking up her cup. She kept her gaze on the tea swirling gently around inside the delicate china. 'I miss Mum,' she admitted. 'Kind of one of those things when you don't realize how much you do miss someone until they are actually gone...'
'I was wondering when you'd finally let yourself say that out loud,' Ron murmured.
'Don't get me wrong, Ron,' Hermione began. 'I was upset when she died, but I knew it was coming. Maybe not the exact day,' she demurred, 'but it wasn't necessarily unwelcome when all was said and done. The word "relieved" keeps coming to mind.' She looked up at Ron through her eyelashes. 'It wasn't like with Dad. I suppose I'm more upset by the fact Mum won't see Rose or Hugo finish school or marry and have children of their own. Or that I can't talk to her about Rose and she can't tell Hugo stories about Dad playing chess. That is what bothers me. There's this void, and as much as you try, you just... can't...' Hermione's face crumpled. 'Here I am, over forty years old, and I still want my mummy...' she sniffled.
Ron set his cup on the table, and pried Hermione's from her grasp, placing it carefully next to his. He pulled scooted his chair closer to hers and gently tugged at her hand until she slid from the chair and sprawled over his lap, her head resting against his shoulder. In a few moments, she sat up with a long sniff, and swiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. 'It's all rather silly of me, isn't it?'
Ron reached up and thumbed a lock of hair from her eyes. 'No, not at all,' he told her, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose his own mother.
Parker dawdled collecting his things and disembarking from the train. By the time he managed to make his way to the platform, only Percy remained in the area where the Weasleys and Potters usually met their offspring. Percy's smile brightened and he reached for Parker's schoolbag. It felt oddly light to Percy -- unusual for someone who had exams that were fast approaching. He frowned slightly, but greeted his oldest son heartily and led him through the entrance to King's Cross. Percy didn't say anything to Parker, preferring to wait for him to mention what was obviously bothering him. He didn't have to wait long.
Penny's eyes flicked over the ceiling. 'Be easy on him,' she warned quietly. 'He's terribly afraid of disappointing you.'
The stairs creaked loudly, and they heard a muffled curse outside the bedroom door. 'I think that's my cue,' Percy said wryly, sliding his arms into his dressing gown. He waited a minute, then followed Parker down the stairs. He found the boy slumped at the kitchen table, a glass of milk in front of him. 'You're up late,' Percy commented lightly, Summoning a glass for himself, and pouring milk into it. 'You didn't seem to bring any textbooks home.'
Parker's shoulders drew in defensively. 'I...' His wide eyes filled with tears. 'I'm so tired,' he confessed. 'All the studying and books and essays... And it never stops. It never stops and it keeps going... More books, more essays...' His voice cracked a little. 'I don't think I want to go into magical law...' He took a deep shuddering breath. 'I'm just so tired...'
'You don't have to,' Percy said, with a small pang. Ever since Parker was a small boy, he had told anyone who would listen, than when he finished school, he was going to work in the same place as his dad, so they could see each other every day. He traced the rim of his glass. 'It's all right if you want to take a year or two off,' he said casually.
Parker's head snapped up. 'You... You know about that?'
'You think your mum and I don't talk about you, gumby?' Percy snorted. 'She showed me your letter.'
'Oh... Right.'
Percy sighed. He hoped he'd never have to reveal just how much of a wanker he had been to his own family. 'If I had done that, I might not have cut ties with Mum, Dad, and the rest of my brothers and sister for three years,' he said. Parker's eyes widened. 'Yeah. I finished school just before the last war started and found a position working in International Law. Things were going pear-shaped rather quickly, and the Minister at the time promoted me to his junior assistant.' Percy shook his head ruefully. 'I was so ambitious. It blinded me to the fact that the Minister wanted me, so he could keep tabs on Mum and Dad. Especially once Voldemort came back. They were firmly on the side against Voldemort, and by extension, the Ministry, because the Minister was in full-blown denial of it all. I thought they were traitors. I was naïve. Horribly, terribly naïve. I was so wrapped up in my own self-importance, that I couldn't see it. Not until it was too late and if I tried to leave, I might have been killed.' He glanced at his son, sitting in dumbfounded shock. 'Not that I think that's what would happen to you,' Percy added hastily. 'But I think if I'd been able to take a year, like you want to do, I might have seen things more clearly.' Percy squeezed Parker's clenched fist. 'Take the year,' he advised. 'Go spend a year puttering in the St. Mungo's greenhouses, or work for your uncles George and Ron. Stay with your uncle Charlie and help tutor the children that live on the reserve. Go tour America. We'll still be here when you get back.' Percy paused. 'And you will never disappoint me.'
'What if I don't end up working with you?' Parker asked hesitantly.
'Doesn't matter, son. As long as you're happy.' Percy rose from his seat at the table, patted Parker on the shoulder, then trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, where Penny waited, an anxious line deepening between her brows. Percy kissed it away. 'Everything's fine,' he told her.
SIXTY NINE -- Taking It Personally
A/N: Merry Christmas, Jessica... :)
The weather had taken a turn that morning for the better, warming considerably as the sun broke through the clouds. Molly hummed to herself, planning the menu for tomorrow's lunch -- the first one with all the family since the children had returned to school in January. She stood in the scullery, directing the sheets that were folding themselves on the table with her wand, facing away from the windows that lined one wall. She heard the garden gate squeak open and glanced over her shoulder. 'Shouldn't you be in the shop, Ron?' she called through the windows, open to the spring breeze.
'I'm not Ron,' said a hesitant American voice.
Molly whirled around, her wand pointing at the intruder's head. Blinking in the light streaming through the windows, she squinted at the tall, lanky man on the other side of them. 'Fabian?' she breathed, before shaking her head. Of course it's not Fabian, you silly bint,' she said to herself. 'Who are you?' she demanded.
'I'm Ben... Uh, Benjamin...' He cleared his throat. 'Benjamin Prewett,' he added hoarsely.
Molly eyed the man suspiciously, keeping her wand pointed at a spot between his eyes. He seemed to be the same age as Ron or Ginny. 'I don't have any relations named Benjamin.'
'You're Molly Weasley, aren't you?' Benjamin asked in confusion, glancing up at the house. It was exactly the way his mother described it to him. Tall, crooked... Looks like the only thing keeping it toppling over is indeed magic... 'Maiden name's Prewett? You had two brothers -- twins, named Fabian and Gideon?'
'Yes.'
'Then I'm your nephew.' Ben reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small photograph. 'This is my father,' he told her, holding it out. 'He died before I was born.'
Molly tilted the photograph so she could see it, and Fabian beamed up at her, lying on his back in a meadow. 'Who's your mother...?'
Lavinia stood outside a small cemetery, her hand resting on the gate. She could just make out the roof of the Burrow, where she hoped Benjamin was able to convince Molly he was who he actually said he was. She took a deep breath, then slowly opened the gate and wound through the headstones, searching until she found his. The pent-up breath she'd been holding came out in a sigh. 'Oh...' Her hand rested on the sun-warmed marble. 'It was his decision to come here,' she said. 'He wanted to meet Molly and her children. Of course, I couldn't blame him. As for me... I promised myself I'd never come back. And well, here I am. I also promised myself I wouldn't tell Benjamin about all of this, either, and you can see how well that turned out.' She reluctantly drew her hand away from Fabian's headstone and lingered for a moment longer, then Disapparated.
Arthur set his teacup in its saucer, studying the man on the other side of the table. 'So, Benjamin, where did you say you were from again?'
'San Francisco, California. I was born there.' Benjamin fidgeted a little. He didn't like tea very much, but he could picture his mother smacking him on the back of the head for being unforgivably rude for turning down the offer, so he accepted a cup and took a few perfunctory sips.
'Do you have any brothers or sisters?'
Benjamin shook his head. 'No. It's just my mom and me. And my wife and our kids.'
Arthur glanced at Molly, sitting stiffly next to him. 'I don't mean to be rude, Benjamin, but do you have any other proof that your father was one of Molly's brothers, other than the photograph?'
'Mr. Weasley,' Benjamin began.
'Arthur.'
'Arthur...' Benjamin looked at Molly, but answered Arthur. 'All I know is last month some guy came to my mother's shop, looking for her.' He dug into his coat pocket and slapped a sheaf of photographs on the table. 'And then he left these.' Benjamin fanned them out and picked out the photograph from Harry and Ginny's wedding, and stabbed at Harry with an accusing index finger. 'It was him.' Benjamin sat back, and folded his arms over his chest. 'My mother just told me about you, and I don't expect you to believe me. If I were you, I'd think I was off my potions, too. It's just too weird. Even for San Francisco.'
Arthur gazed at Benjamin for a moment, then studied the photograph of Fabian that Benjamin had brought with him. 'When were you born?'
'May fourth, nineteen eighty-two. Mom said Dad was killed on August eighteenth, the year before in an ambush.'
'Those are things anyone would know,' Molly snapped. 'It was common knowledge.'
Arthur could feel his own doubts begin to waver. He grasped Molly's elbow. 'Would you excuse us for a moment?' He pulled Molly from her chair and all but dragged her into the sitting room. 'You still think he's lying, don't you?'
'Yes.'
Arthur peered through the open kitchen door. 'Molly, dear... He looks just like Fabian...'
Molly still shook her head stubbornly, denying her own initial reaction.
Molly stood in front of the fireplace for several long moments, her palm cupped around a handful of Floo powder. She threw it into the flames and stepped through it. The first thing she saw when she stepped out on the other end was Harry stretched out on the sofa, an old issue of Quidditch Quarterly propped on his chest while he read. 'Why didn't you tell me?' she demanded softly, mindful of the sounds of James, Al, and Lily unpacking their things upstairs.
Harry glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. 'Tell you want?' he asked.
'Benjamin,' Molly spat. 'Benjamin Prewett.'
'Oh...' Harry swung his feet to the floor and sat up.
'He said his mother's name is Lavinia Malfoy.'
'It is. It was,' Harry corrected himself. 'She uses Prewett now. And Lavinia asked me not to reveal her whereabouts.'
Molly glared at Harry for a moment. 'So that trumps telling me my brother had a child?' Molly said through clenched teeth.
'Professionally? Yes.'
'What about personally?'
'There is no personal anything when you're an Auror, Molly. You know that,' Harry said evenly.
'Why didn't she come to me for help?' Molly wondered. 'After...'
'Would you have helped her?' Harry challenged. In this moment, Molly wasn't the woman he saw as his mother, she was just another witness to a crime. 'Knowing that you would put your entire family in danger? Especially with two defenseless babies in the house? And she was a Malfoy.' Harry folded his arms over his chest. 'You're telling me, that mere days after Fabian was killed, you would have welcomed her into your household? Tried to hide her if she asked? And never once have questioned her motives in coming to you since she was Lucius Malfoy's sister?'
Molly's jaw clenched. 'No...' she admitted.
'Did you know about her?'
'Yes.' Molly dropped heavily into one of the armchairs. 'I told him to end it more than a year before he died. I didn't think it would turn out well.'
'Don't you think Fabian would have told her that?' Harry pressed. Lavinia hadn't quite come out and said so, but he got the impression that Fabian had mentioned Molly's opinions on the subject of their relationship. 'Maybe she knew you'd not be overjoyed to find her on your doorstep.'
'She kept Fabian's son away from us,' Molly said stubbornly, her voice cracking.
Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. 'Hang on... How do you know about Benjamin?' he asked curiously, knowing Ginny wouldn't have said a word to Molly.
'He's at the Burrow with Arthur.'
'He's here? In England?'
Molly nodded. 'Showed up a couple of hours ago. Seems a bit shocked by it all.'
Harry chuckled in sympathy. 'I would be, too, if I found out I have a mob of mad relations.'
'Said his mother just told him about us...' Molly's face crumpled. 'He has Fabian's laugh,' she whispered painfully. 'You found him,' she said suddenly, accusingly rising from the chair. 'He said his mother said Narcissa Malfoy asked you to find her.'
Harry set his magazine down and rubbed his face. 'Yeah. She did,' he sighed. There wasn't any point in trying to maintain secrecy now.
Molly suddenly went rigid. 'That's why you and Ginny went to America last month!' she screeched. 'Ginevra!' she called.
Ginny appeared at the top of the stairs, looking slightly bewildered. 'Mum...'
'You knew!' Molly shouted. 'That's why you were at the second landing last Sunday!' she said in dawning comprehension. 'You were comparing Benjamin to Fabian.'
Ginny hurried down the stairs. 'Mum, please... The children...' she hissed, trying to make Molly calm down. She stood next to Harry. 'I've never seen him or met him,' she admitted.
'But you knew!'
Ginny bit her lip and nodded.
'You should have told me,' Molly cried, before she whirled back to the fireplace, and plunged her hand into the flowerpot on the mantle. It fell to the floor and shattered in dozens of pieces as Molly withdrew a fistful of Floo powder. She threw it into the fireplace and was gone before Harry or Ginny could say a word.
'Don't try to remember everyone's names,' Arthur warned, opening an overflowing photograph album. 'But you're lucky. It doesn't look like we're going to add anyone new for a while...' He flipped through several pages. 'Ah. Here we are... This past Christmas. That's Molly and me, of course. And our eldest, Bill, his wife Fleur, and their children, Victoire, Madeline, Nicholas, and Alexander. That is Charlie, our second oldest. His wife Bronwyn and their children Isabella, Owen, and Aiden. Percy, our third. His wife, Penelope, and their sons, Parker, Payton, and Patrick.' Arthur grinned at Benjamin's slight curl of the lip. 'Yes, it is a wee bit twee, isn't it? But Percy likes things organized and sorted.' He tapped George. 'This is George. He had a twin... Fred. But Fred was killed in the last battle of the war against Voldemort. They were identical, like your father and his brother. And that is Katie, George's wife. Their sons, Fred and Jacob and their daughter Sophia. And Ron...'
'That's who Molly thought I was this afternoon,' Ben interjected. His finger stole out and the tip ran down the bridge of Ron's nose.
'Well, you do sort of look like him, if you're not really looking,' Arthur said. 'It's mostly the height and the hair. And the nose.'
'Harry... ? Is that the right name? The black-haired guy?'
'Yes.'
'Harry... left a picture of Ron. It was the nose that tipped me off.' Ben lightly touched the tip of his own nose.
'It is rather distinctive, isn't it?' Arthur chuckled. 'Thank Merlin he grew into it when he was about sixteen or so.' He returned to the photograph. 'Ron's wife, Hermione. Their children Rose and Hugo. And Harry you know. He's married to our daughter Ginny. And their children, James, Albus, and Lily. And this is Andromeda. She's Narcissa's sister. Her grandson, Teddy, is Harry's godson. Both of Teddy's parents were killed in the same battle as Fred. And this is Scorpius. He's Narcissa's grandson, and just happens to be Albus' best mate.'
Benjamin swallowed heavily. 'There won't be a quiz later, will there?' he asked in apprehension.
Arthur's peals of laughter rang through the kitchen. 'No. But they'll all be here for lunch tomorrow. Well, most of them will be.' He took in Benjamin's slightly dazed expression and Summoned the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky from the cupboard. 'You look like you could use one,' he said, Summoning two glasses.
'Yeah...'
'Do you have anywhere to stay? I'm sure you have a room somewhere. The Leaky Cauldron, perhaps?'
'Leaky Cauldron.'
'You could stay here, if you wanted,' Arthur offered.
Benjamin took a sip of his whisky. 'I don't think Molly would like that. She seems awfully angry.'
'She's not angry at you,' Arthur countered quickly. 'She's just a little... overwhelmed by it all...' He closed the photograph album. 'Is your mother with you?' he asked hesitantly.
'No. Well, she came with me as far as London, but wouldn't say where she was going from there.'
'I see...' Arthur sipped his own whisky. 'Go get your things. Molly wouldn't want a relation staying in the Leaky Cauldron, even though Hannah will take very good care of you.'
Benjamin snorted. 'She doesn't believe me.'
'She does. Or she will. This whole thing is just...'
'Too good to be true.' Benjamin rested his elbows on the table. 'I know how she feels...'
Benjamin stood in Diagon Alley, staring in open-mouthed amazement at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, his bag in one hand. He'd never seen anything quite like it -- not even in Chinatown. A blonde man jostled him as he walked by. 'What's the matter, Weasley, forget you own the place?' he drawled. 'Too many explosions scramble your memory?' Draco squinted in the fading light at the man in front of him. 'You're not...'
'No.'
'My apologies. I seem to have mistaken you for someone else,' Draco said stiffly. 'You just...' He gestured to the shop and shrugged.
'You know them?' Benjamin asked, pointing to the shop.
'You could say that.' Draco turned and disappeared into the crowd of people on the street.
Benjamin pushed open the door of the shop and was immediately assaulted by sound and light. He wandered through the crowd of children, stopping to study a few products here and there. 'Can I help you find something?' Benjamin turned around to find Ron behind him, with a solicitous smile on his face. Ron peered at him for a moment, then blurted, 'Do I know you? You look... familiar...' He leaned forward a little. 'Maybe George remembers you. It's been an age since we've had a big family do. Are you related to Mum's cousin Janet? The one with the son who's an accountant or something barmy like that.'
'Uh, no...'
'Could swear I've seen you before... Oi! George!' Ron hooked a thumb in Benjamin's direction. 'D'you know him?'
George glanced up from a knot of third-year students surrounded by harried-looking parents. 'Never seen him before in my life.' He made an impatient gesture. 'If you want to solve mysteries, go join Harry in the Aurors. Otherwise, there's a line six deep at the counter, and the twins and Rose are squabbling over whose figures are right, and poor Hugo's about to be in the middle of about ten hexes.'
'Oh, bloody...' Ron hurried to the counter and with one move separated Rose from Jacob, quelling the emerging argument with a glare. By the time things had calmed down enough, the man was gone.
Draco found the small, cramped building that housed the offices of Witch Weekly. He supposed he could have sent an owl, but he was determined to do this in person. He climbed the narrow stairs to a small, bright room. 'Is Mrs. Weasley here?'
'Who's Mrs. Weasley?' a young witch asked.
'Oh, you mean Katie!' her companion exclaimed. 'Yeah, she's down that corridor... the fifth... no sixth door on the left.'
'Thank you...' Draco strode down the corridor, counting to himself as he passed each door. Four... five... six... He could hear voices murmuring behind the partially closed door. He took a step back, then another, stopped, then returned to the door, starting a little when it opened before he could knock. He stepped back, allowing the witch to pass, then softly knocked on the door.
'Did you forget something, Sammie?' Katie asked, hardly looking up from her work. When she didn't receive a reply, Katie lifted her head and stared at Draco dumbfounded.
'I don't mean to intrude, but...' Draco twisted his hands behind his back. 'I'm sorry... For nearly killing you and putting you in the hospital.'
Katie's hand convulsed around the quill and it snapped.
Draco jumped at the sound. 'I know that doesn't make up for it.'
'Too right it doesn't,' Katie growled. 'I lost six months of my life. I almost died.' Katie held out her left hand, where a web of livid scars still crisscrossed her ring finger. 'I can't put my own wedding ring on in the morning without being reminded of it. And you tell me, "I'm sorry". Like that's going to give me those months I lay unconscious in St. Mungo's. Or the years I worried there was something else wrong with me because of that damned necklace.' Her hand slammed on the table. 'So don't try to apologize and expect me for forgive you, Malfoy,' she snarled.
After approaching his mother, Draco knew better than to expect an effusive expression of forgiveness. 'I don't expect you'll forgive me,' he murmured, his eyes fixed on the edge of the table Katie occupied. 'But I never meant to hurt you.' He swallowed heavily. 'I never meant to hurt you,' he repeated. 'I just wanted to tell you...'
'And now you have,' Katie said, clearly in dismissal, turning back to her work. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish this before I leave for the day.' She bent over the table, plucking a fresh quill from a cup on the corner.
Draco stared at the top of her head for a long moment, then silently walked down the corridor and out of the building, with a curt nod to the Auror assigned to him, leaning against a lamppost. 'I'm going home,' he muttered. 'I'll even give you a five-second head start,' he added. The Auror's face was impassive, and she made no move to Apparate, but slid her hand into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out a small pewter card, and tapped it with her wand.
'After you, sir.'
Draco sighed and Disapparated, followed closely by the Auror.
Daphne peeped through the slightly ajar door into Scorpius' bedroom. He had fallen asleep reading one of his beloved Muggle comic books. She tiptoed inside and slid the book away from his hand and set it on the bedside table. She pulled the duvet over his shoulders and smoothed the hair from his face. He snorted in his sleep and rolled over. Daphne flicked her wand at the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. She stole back to her bedroom, untying the sash of her dressing gown as she nudged the door closed with her foot. 'Nothing ever happened with Pansy after we finished school.'
Daphne inhaled sharply at the unexpected sound of Draco's voice in her bedroom. 'What?' She spun around to find him perched on the side of her bed.
'Pansy... The last time she and I... It was before Easter of our seventh year.'
Daphne blinked. 'All right...'
'I'm not sure why she told people that we were... together... for years after. But I guess it gave her a level of cachet amongst her peers. I know you heard the rumors before we were married. I got a sort of grim satisfaction out of knowing people believed them. Living up to their expectations and all.' Draco stood and slid his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown. 'I just thought you should know.'
He headed for the door and had opened it, and was halfway through when Daphne blurted, 'You don't have to leave.' Draco looked at her over his shoulder. 'I'm not really sleepy yet. And you and I could talk for a bit... If you want.'
Draco paused, then stepped back into the room and closed the door, waving his wand at the small sconce next to the door.
'Our wedding night was complete disaster, wasn't it?' Draco mused. He was curled on one side, facing Daphne.
'Do you even have to ask?'
'Touché.' Draco shifted a little closer, so his knees brushed Daphne's. 'I didn't even try to make it bearable for you.'
'Bearable would have been an improvement,' she quipped. 'Tolerable would have been ecstasy.'
Draco's eyes widened. 'Do other people know about this side of you?'
'Very few.'
'Would it help if I told you I barely knew more than you did about how to make it bearable, if not tolerable?'
Daphne drew back in surprise. 'Really? But I thought...'
'Experience doesn't always translate to finesse,' Draco said loftily. 'Could you sit up for a moment?'
'Why?'
'I want to try something...'
'All right...' Daphne pushed herself into a sitting position. Draco grasped her upper arms and leaned toward her. Daphne pulled away slightly. 'What are you doing?'
'Just... Don't move.' He pressed his lips to hers and Daphne made a muffled noise of protest. 'What? Am I doing it wrong?'
Daphne rubbed her fingers over her lips. 'Well, no. Not if you're practicing on pillows...' Draco's shoulders slumped dejectedly and he started to climb off the bed. 'No, wait...' Daphne grabbed his arm. 'Could I show you?'
'If you wish,' Draco said with more than a little awkwardness.
Daphne gently cupped the side of his face with one hand, her thumb tracing delicately over his lips. 'Close your eyes,' she whispered. Draco dutifully squeezed his eyes shut and Daphne lightly brushed her mouth over his. Draco's breath caught and Daphne smiled, before she gently deepened the kiss, fingers skipping over the skin underneath his jaw.
Draco pulled away, staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. 'Where did you learn how to do that?' he demanded.
'Just because I was a virgin when we married doesn't mean I'd never been kissed,' Daphne informed him blithely, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 'The baker's son. His name was Jared. I used to sneak out of the house after dinner and meet him before our fifth year.'
'Who are you?'
'Just your wife. Nobody special.' Daphne opened a drawer in her bedside table, and retrieved a battled Muggle novel, Spellotape binding the covers to the spine. 'This was also quite helpful,' she continued.
Draco took the novel from her and promptly burst into muffled guffaws. 'Charming Rogue?' he spluttered. 'What kind of rubbish is this...?' He opened the book to a random page and began to read aloud in the affected dramatic tones of someone who meant to mock the material. 'Chase pulled Rebecca hard against his chest. She tried in vain to keep her eyes closed at the indecent sight of so much bare skin, but the warmth of his body was an irresistible lure. Rebecca moaned softly...' Draco fell back into the pillows, whooping. 'Oh, that's utter, absolute, ridiculous shite,' he gurgled. He held the book over his face and attempted to find where he'd left off.
'Give it back!' Daphne exclaimed. 'It's not mine!'
'I should hope not. Where did you get this?' Draco turned a page with a moistened index finger and continued to read, grinning with ill-disguised glee.
'A friend loaned it to me.' Daphne didn't want to mention which friend. Ginny had sent a parcel containing several ratty, dog-eared Muggle novels after Draco had been released from the hospital with a short note that had said, In case he's not such a wanker after all... She lunged for the book and Draco held it just out of her reach. 'Damn it, Draco, give it back.'
'How many times have you read this?' he chuckled.
'Just twice. Give it back!' Daphne leaned across Draco, grasping futilely for the book, unaware she was sprawled over Draco. Draco stopped laughing, and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, deliberately mimicking her light caress.
He lifted his head and kissed her, briefly, but it was far from perfunctory. 'Was that better?' Daphne nodded, and the book fell to the floor with a muffled thump, forgotten.
Benjamin stared nervously at the kitchen door, jumping when he heard the first whoosh of the fireplace. He rubbed his sweaty palms over the knees of his jeans. Arthur patted his back sympathetically, 'Just breathe,' he murmured. Benjamin nodded, his face going a shade paler under the sprinkling of freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. The sounds of several more people arriving by Floo reached the kitchen, the mingled sounds of their conversations preceding them into the kitchen. Bill, George, Ron, and Harry walked into the kitchen discussing the latest Cannons defeat, talking at the same time, with the occasional shouted comment from Ginny, Al, or Rose from the sitting room.
Ron started to head to the stove to help Molly with lunch, but came to a sudden stop at the sight of Benjamin sitting at the table, making Harry run into him. 'Ow!' Harry grunted, as he rubbed his nose. 'Warn a bloke when you're going to stop like that, eh?' He followed Ron's bemused gaze to the man occupying Arthur's usual seat at the table. Gradually, the others fell silent as they noticed Benjamin.
'Who the bloody hell are you?' Ron blurted.
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Molly's voice slid into the stillness. 'This is your cousin, Benjamin. Your uncle Fabian's boy,' she added softly.
SEVENTY -- A Fun Souvenir
Draco turned his head to peer at the window. Light was beginning to spill over the windowsill into the bedroom. 'What time is it?'
Daphne squinted at the alarm clock. 'About seven,' she murmured.
'I should go back to my bedroom' Draco sighed. 'Before Scorpius wakes up.'
'Why?'
Draco shook his head slightly. 'I don't think he would take it very well, if he saw me leaving your bedroom.' When Daphne gave him a dubious look, he continued, 'He'll probably think the worst of me and assume I've assaulted you, or something like that.'
'It wouldn't hurt if you tried to make amends with him, too...' Daphne said softly.
'He doesn't need me,' Draco countered. 'He doesn't need my past hanging over him.'
'Perhaps, someday --' Daphne began.
'Why is it so important to you?'
Daphne sat up, pushing the sleeves of her nightdress past her elbows. 'Have you any idea what the past three years have been like for me? No, not just the past three... The past fourteen?' She kept talking, running over any response Draco might have had. 'It's been hell,' she said bluntly. 'All he's ever wanted is to know you do, in fact, love him, and all right, fine, until he started school, maybe you were more than a bit distant, but at least the two of you spoke to one another at meals. But ever since he started school, and got Sorted into a different House, it's taken you nearly all this time to get your pants out of a twist over it.'
Draco's brows rose over the vehemence of his wife's reply.
'And you... You're not entirely unlikeable. You've started trying to turn things around for yourself and where does that leave me? I'll tell you where... In the middle. He's already anxious to spend as little time here or at your mother's during the holidays as possible. And as much as I'd like to see where this... thing... with you goes, I don't want to do it at the expense of my -- our -- son.'
'Keep shouting like that and you'll wake him up,' Draco commented idly, pushing himself up against he headboard. 'Where do you want this to go?' he demanded. 'You spend half the night getting off with me until I can't see straight, and you're doing it for what? For laughs? Idle curiosity?'
'This is what people do when they date each other,' Daphne said calmly.
'They do?'
'Yes.'
Draco's eyes grew wider and he gaped at her for a long moment. 'Who in their right mind would do this to himself?' he exclaimed. 'It's madness...'
'Well, they generally tend not to do this in their nightclothes or in a bed,' Daphne said defensively.
'Right. Like having more clothing on makes it better,' Draco muttered.
'I thought you liked it...'
Draco dragged a hand over his face in frustration. 'Liking it isn't the problem.' He heaved a sigh and pushed the duvet back. 'I liked kissing you. I liked it too much...' Daphne opened her mouth to argue, but Draco laid a hand over it. 'Let me finish.' He inhaled strongly through his nose and let his hand drop away from Daphne's mouth. 'I respect the boundaries you set last night. That we should at least be on friendly terms with each other before we try adding all the complications inherent in sex to the exceedingly large tangled mess that is our marriage. You could wear a marquee for all that I care, and I'd still find you... Attractive,' he admitted. 'That being said, I would also very much like to see just how much I do like you as well before attempting anything that intimate.' He swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of Daphne's bed, facing away from her. 'Just be honest with me... Are you doing this because you think we've got a chance, no matter how small, or because you're toying with me in some sick sort of game?' He sat rigidly until he felt Daphne's arms encircle his chest, and her cheek rested against his back.
'I'm not playing games with you,' she told him. 'I'm not sure how much of a chance we've got, but I do think it's worth our time to try and find out. But I'm not playing games with you.'
'Fair enough...' Draco gently squeezed one of Daphne's hands and stood. 'I'll see you at breakfast, then.'
'Who the bloody hell are you?' Ron blurted.
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Molly's voice slid into the stillness. 'This is your cousin, Benjamin. Your uncle Fabian's boy,' she added softly.
Charlie poked Bill in the shoulder. 'I don't remember Uncle Fabian having a kid,' he whispered.
'I don't either,' Bill muttered. He pierced Benjamin with an intense look. 'Was your mum from around here?'
'She was an old friend of Fabian's,' Arthur replied smoothly. 'Moved abroad after Fabian died to go live with family,' he added, shaking his head slightly when Benjamin frowned.
'Makes sense.' George examined Benjamin, his head tilted to one side. 'Looks like one of us,' he pronounced, slapping Ron on the back. 'Got your nose, eh?'
Ron frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'That doesn't prove anything.'
'Oh, honestly,' Hermione huffed. 'He looks just like that photograph of your uncles with all of you on the staircase.' She edged around Ron and extended her hand to Benjamin. 'I'm Hermione,' she said. 'And I'm married to the daft git behind me.'
'Hey!' Ron protested. 'I resent that!'
'Which part?' Harry sniggered. 'Daft or git?'
Molly sighed and sent a stack of plates around the table, each one peeling off the top and settling in its place with a soft thump. 'Don't mind them,' she told Benjamin. 'They've only been doing that since they were eleven.'
Percy pulled out a chair and dropped into it, propping his chin in his hands. 'How do we know he's Uncle Fabian's?' he asked. 'He could be Uncle Gideon's. Identical twins, you know...'
Benjamin's widened in surprise as the turquoise-haired young man's head turned orange so quickly, it looked as if it might be on fire. Teddy... he told himself. The one who can change the way he looks... Teddy began coughing so hard, Harry helpfully pounded him on the back, until Teddy waved him off.
'Gerroff...' he croaked. 'I'm all right...' He straightened, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks.
'All right?' Harry asked.
'Yeah... it's just...' Teddy scrubbed his hands over his face. 'Dad said that Sirius and...' He bit off the end of the sentence and stole a look at Molly, then glanced hastily down at his shoes. 'Nothing...'
Ron perked up. 'What about Sirius? He knew Uncle Fabian and Gideon?'
Teddy shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 'You could say that. Especially Gideon...' he murmured. He turned to Harry and Ginny. 'Bob and Ted said to tell you hello, by the way...'
'Oooh. How are Bob and Ted?' Ginny asked brightly with a fond smile.
'Ted's been ill, but he's getting better,' Teddy replied, relieved that the conversation had turned to more comfortable territory. 'Bob says you need to come down for tea and bring photos of the children.'
'Mind you look in on Ted,' Harry said. 'He changed more than a few of your nappies.'
Bill shook his head. 'So... hang on a mo... How can we be sure he's Fabian's son?'
Harry took his usual seat and leaned closer to Benjamin. 'Don't take it personally,' he murmured. 'They mean well...'
Benjamin grinned. 'I'm not. Can't really blame them. Besides, it's kinda entertaining.'
Arthur heaved a sigh and sat back in his chair. 'You Uncle Gideon didn't fancy women,' he said evenly.
Bill's mouth opened, but he merely nodded. 'Oh... I see...'
'My best friend at Salem performs as a drag queen in a cabaret in San Francisco,' Benjamin blurted. 'He's pretty well-known in the magical community on the west coast, too. And he's my kids' godfather.'
'Which cabaret?' Ginny asked, dropping into the chair next to Harry.
'Uh... "The Weathergirls".' Benjamin felt the back of his neck grow warm, and the pulled at his collar.
'We've been there!' Ginny exclaimed. 'Last month, actually. It was marvelous fun. Which one is your friend?'
Benjamin glanced at the group of children clustered in the doorway and leaned closer to Ginny. 'Paula Dancer...' He sat back. 'His real name's Gene Katzenbach.'
Ron glanced at Harry, then Ginny, his eyes narrowing. They're not surprised, he thought. Interesting.
'You play Quidditch?' Charlie asked Benjamin gruffly.
'Is that all you ever think about?' Bronwyn chided, with no real heat.
'No,' Charlie said mildly. 'I can give you a more detailed list later, if you like. I'll even illustrate it.'
'You draw?' Benjamin said suddenly to Charlie.
'Yeah. Charcoal, mostly. Sometimes pastels.'
'So that's where in comes from,' Benjamin murmured in wonder. 'Mom can hardly draw stick figures...'
Molly directed several roast chickens to the table. 'Actually, it was my mother,' she informed her son and nephew. 'Fabian's penmanship was horribly illegible and his attempts at artwork were bad enough that they were only fit to line the owl perch. Gideon was the artist between the two of them. He's the one that added Bill to the family tree. Did all of the children. Most beautiful calligraphy you've ever seen...' She quickly added bowls of peas, mashed potatoes, and sprouts. 'Now then... lunch is ready.' She turned to her sons, wiping her hands on her apron. 'You're to let Benjamin eat his meal in peace and not pepper him with a load of questions,' she ordered.
'Yes, Mum,' they murmured dutifully, filing to their places.
Benjamin gazed in dismay at his plate as Molly piled yet another helping on it. 'Does she always do that?' he asked Harry.
Harry nodded in sympathy. 'Yeah.'
'Are you going to eat that?' James asked, nodding toward Benjamin's untouched third helping of chicken.
'It's all yours,' Benjamin said, pushing his plate toward James.
Ginny's brow rose in disbelief as James tore into the chicken leg. 'Where are you putting it all?' she asked, poking her oldest son in the ribs.
James barely remembered to swallow before he replied. 'Hungry.'
'You're always hungry,' Lily huffed scornfully. 'How on earth do you sleep through the night without a snack, I'll never know.' James shot her a filthy look, but continued to stolidly munch his way through the rest of his meal.
'Jacob Weasley, put that sprout down your sister's shirt and you'll spend your holiday cleaning the house without magic,' Katie said suddenly. 'The shop, too.'
Jacob froze, his hand clenched around a sprout, hovering just behind Sophie's head. 'How did you see that? You weren't even looking.'
'It's called being a mum,' George chuckled. 'Can't get away with anything around a mum.'
Katie flicked Jacob's ear. 'Put that poor sprout down. And leave Sophie alone.' She looked down the table at Benjamin. 'It's a lot to take in, isn't it? I remember when George and I first started dating, and I thought it was a madhouse with just us adults and Teddy. Then for some reason unknown to man, we started having children of our own.'
'Oh, this is nothing,' Teddy called from where he sat next to Victoire. 'How many people were here for Molly and Arthur's anniversary party last summer?'
'Oh, dozens,' Hermione said cheerfully. 'And how many are you planning on inviting to your wedding?'
'You're getting married?' Benjamin said to Teddy.
'In three years,' Teddy said, smiling shyly. 'Vic and I.'
Molly rose from her chair and slipped into the scullery. 'Parker, I've got something for you. Thought I'd give it to you before I serve pudding...'
Benjamin glanced at the pan of apple crumble on the counter behind him in bemusement. 'That's not pudding...'
'Well, there's pudding, like rice pudding,' Ron explained. 'And black pudding, although I don't think you want to know how that's made... Bill likes it though. Must have been dropped on his head as a baby. And then there's what you eat after dinner. Cakes, pies, crumbles -- desserts.' He craned his head to see around Benjamin. 'I think Mum's even made spotted dick---' he added gleefully.
Benjamin's eyes widened, and his hand convulsed around the glass he held to his lips, inhaling water. He began to cough and splutter. 'She's made what?'
'Spotted dick,' Ron repeated.
'How is that a dessert?' Benjamin asked, aghast. 'It sounds like a disease!'
Bronwyn began to laugh. 'Sorry...' she gasped. 'I'm not laughing at you...'
'Just laughing in his direction?' Charlie murmured, shaking his head.
'No... It's just... He's right. It does sound like a disease you'd post warnings about in Knockturn Alley.'
Ginny took pity on Benjamin. 'It's sort of like a cake with currants and raisins baked in. You ladle custard all over it when you eat it.'
'Doesn't resemble a willie at all,' Harry chimed in. 'At least none that I've ever seen.'
'Here we are!' Molly sailed into the kitchen with a gaily-wrapped parcel. 'So you can look smart when you start your studies.'
Parker's face fell slightly. 'Erm, Grandmum...'
'Parker's taking a year off,' Percy said. It had the effect of putting a Silencing charm on the kitchen.
'Blimey,' Hermione murmured into the stillness.
'Oh, now you have been married to Ron too long,' Ginny whispered to her.
'Bound to happen eventually,' Hermione countered.
'True.'
'Did I hear that right?' Arthur asked Percy, his face a curious mixture of pride and sadness.
'Yes.' Percy pulled off his glasses and began to carefully polish the lenses with a handkerchief. 'We had a lovely chat about it the other night.'
'I'm still taking my N.E.W.T.s,' Parker added. 'And in a year or so, I'll see what I want to do.' He looked down at his plate. 'I could do with a bit of a break, that's all.'
'Well, that's fine, then,' Arthur said to Parker, reaching up to pat Molly's hand that gripped his shoulder. 'Sounds as if you've got it all figured out.' It was a signal for the ripples of conversation to continue. 'What do you think you might do?'
'I don't know yet,' Parker admitted sheepishly. 'It sounds like a pathetic cliché, but I'd like to travel a bit...'
'If you come to California, you can stay with us, if you want,' Benjamin offered. 'My mom's usually got an extra room available.'
'I don't...' Percy began, but Parker's eager cry cut him off.
'Really? That would be brilliant!'
'My daughter's elementary school's always looking for volunteers,' Benjamin said.
'Is it a Muggle school?' Parker asked.
'No. It's all magical. They don't really learn much about it until they start at Salem, but it's a lot easier to handle the accidental magic if everyone knows what it is. Cuts down on the need to send an Obliviator to the schools.'
'Makes sense,' Charlie muttered.
'Who wants pudding? Benjamin?' Molly asked.
'I think I'll stick to the apple crumble,' Benjamin said, eyeing the spotted dick warily.
Ron directed his broom toward the oak tree in the paddock that served as a goalpost for their after-lunch Quidditch game. Harry was already there, feet swinging idly as he waited for Al and Maddie to finish choosing their teams. Ron came to a stop next to Harry and aped his casual, relaxed pose. 'You knew, didn't you?' Ron said, matter-of-factly.
Harry nodded. 'Yeah.' He turned slightly to look at Ron. 'How'd you know?'
Ron smirked. 'I've known you for how long now? I've seen you in more touchy situations than most, I reckon. And out of all of us, you and Gin were the least surprised.' Ron inhaled slowly as a fragment of conversation settled into place, completing the puzzle. 'That's why the two of you went to America,' he breathed. 'But why? It's not as if any of us knew about him.'
Harry leaned forward easily on his broom, elbows resting on the handle. 'No use keeping it secret now, is it?' he muttered. 'It was for a case. Narcissa asked me to look for someone... Lucius' sister. Turns out, the sister -- Lavinia -- is Benjamin's mum.'
Ron stared at Harry then dissolved into whoops of laughter. 'Oh, that's rich!' he gasped. 'The pureblood and the blood-traitor? It's almost as bad as one of Gin's God-awful novels... And I don't remember Malfoy having an aunt on his father's side of the family.'
'Not many people did,' Harry informed him. 'She ran away after Fabian died, and when she was gone, people didn't talk about her and they sort of forgot her. Out of sight, out of mind.'
Ron's face lit up in anticipation. 'Oh, please tell me you're going to introduce him to Malfoy!' A beatific smile curved his lips. 'I can just picture his face when you tell him he's related to a large group of blood-traitors...' The light grew slightly mischievous. 'Can I watch? Under the Invisibility cloak? Please?'
Harry shook his head. 'You're a nutter. Did you know that? A sick, twisted nutter.'
Ron smiled widely, taking no offense. 'As are you.'
Harry sat up, tucking his feet behind him on the footrests. 'Yes. Yes I am.'
'I do believe that's why we're mates,' Ron said.
'I do believe I agree,' Harry replied, shading his eyes with a hand. Al and Maddie broke apart, mounting their brooms. 'Looks like they're done. Ready to get creamed by your best mate?'
'Only if you're ready to get creamed by yours,' Ron retorted, slapping Harry on the back. 'Try not to fall off your broom. I'd hate to see you bloody up that pretty face of yours!'
'Right. And the Keeper's supposed to block the goals, not create acrobatic routines,' Harry scoffed good-naturedly.
'Git.' Ron chuckled.
'Wanker,' Harry snickered.
'Drinks are on you if we win,' Ron called, as Harry began to fly away.
'Which won't happen, so I hope you've brought some Galleons with you!'
As the game commenced, Harry's mind turned to Narcissa. Benjamin had said his mother had traveled with him as far as London. He wondered if Lavinia had managed to make her way to Nice.
Scorpius shuffled toward the staircase, yawning widely. At times like these he almost envied Al and his ability to have a lie-in the moment a holiday started. He, on the other hand, was almost programmed to wake up at the same time each morning, whether he had to or not. It was frightfully annoying. He thought longingly of a cup of hot chocolate and large bowl of porridge. That might help him make it through until the regular family breakfast. Lately it seemed as if he was always hungry, and a good inch of his socks could be seen under the hem of his trousers at school. He'd have to see about either getting a couple of new pairs of trousers for his uniform or asking if Perri could let out the ones he had. He preferred the latter. Scorpius hated shopping for clothes, but Daphne insisted on making him try them on. I'd rather kiss a gnome than try on trousers, he mused. Standing in the cubicle in my pants, shivering while Mother makes me try on pair after pair of trousers... So wrapped up was he in thoughts of what he'd rather do than trudge through a shop with his mother, while he pushed open the swinging kitchen door, it took him a moment to process what he saw.
Daphne stood with the small of her back pressed against the edge of the counter, arms wrapped around a man. They stood directly in front of the window, so the rising sun silhouetted them. He had one arm wrapped around Daphne's waist, and the other hand cupped around the back of her head, his lips tracing over the edge of her ear, before brushing over her mouth.
The clouds shifted, blocking the sun a little, and Scorpius blinked to clear his vision. The man's features cleared and Scorpius felt his mouth drop open in shock.
It was his father.
He let his arm drop, and the door swung shut, obliterating the inconceivable sight of his parents kissing each other and rubbed his eyes. Scorpius nibbled a thumbnail. He'd seen Harry and Ginny kiss before, and occasionally Neville and Hannah. But even in those glimpses, he seen the depth of emotion they carried. He eased the door open a mere crack and peeked through it. Draco's forehead rested against Daphne's, while his fingertips trailed down the side of her face. Scorpius carefully let the door close, then backed away slowly until he was several feet away from the door.
He did what any reasonable thirteen-year old boy would do.
Scorpius fled back to his bedroom, trying to erase the memory of watching his parents behave as if they actually fancied each other.
A/N: According to what I could find "getting off" in Brit-speak means "kissing"/"making out".
And to Shadow82ABN... You're very welcome. You have no idea how touched I was.
SEVENTY ONE -- Unpleasant Discoveries
Scorpius pushed his plate away. 'May I go to Al's?' he asked Daphne stonily, keeping his eyes firmly fixed to the cold eggs left uneaten on the plate.
'Will either of his parents be at home?' she responded, frowning. Scorpius had been more than a bit touchy since she'd called him down for breakfast.
'Mrs. Potter is,' he replied shortly.
'Very well, but...' Whatever Daphne was going to say was lost in her son's haste to leave the table. 'Be home by dinner...' she finished.
Scorpius couldn't get away from the table fast enough. He stopped in the foyer and grabbed his coat from a cupboard and darted into the sitting room, pausing long enough to grab a handful of Floo powder and throw it into the fireplace. He arrived in Godric's Hollow, tumbling out of the fireplace. Al lounged on the sofa, with the morning paper, poring over the Quidditch scores, still in his pajamas. 'You're a bit early,' Al observed. 'Didn't expect you until after lunch...' He trailed off, as Scorpius threw a glare at him, then began to pace the length of the sitting room, his head shaking every few paces. Al watched him for several minutes, brows rising the longer the other boy paced, his fair skin darkening ominously. 'What's your damage, Heather?' he asked lightly.
Scorpius stopped and stared at Al. 'They were... they were snogging!' he ground out between clenched teeth.
'Who?' Al asked, perplexed.
'My parents.'
Al shrugged thoughtlessly. 'So? My parents snog all the time...'
Scorpius whirled around. 'My parents don't even sleep in the same bedroom!' he shouted. 'They hardly bother to pretend the other exists and all of a sudden, they're in the kitchen before breakfast, snogging like Maddie and that Ravenclaw prefect she's so thick with!'
'Oh...'
'Exactly!' Scorpius flopped to the sofa next to Al, his arms folded tightly over his chest. 'Why would she do that?'
'Who...? Maddie or your mum?'
'My mother,' Scorpius said, glowering.
'Maybe she likes it?' Al suggested.
'Please...' Scorpius muttered dismissively. 'She's probably been charmed or hexed or something. Or he's been slipping something into her morning tea...'
'You think he's that underhanded?'
Scorpius shrugged with one shoulder. 'I wouldn't put it past him.'
'It could be genuine affection,' Al ventured. 'Maybe...'
'My parents' marriage was arranged,' Scorpius snorted. 'There is no such thing as affection in an arranged marriage.'
'Things can change.'
'Whose side are you on, Al?' Scorpius demanded.
'Yours.'
'Brilliant. Then stop trying to make this into something nice and pleasant, which it most certainly is not.'
'Will it be so terrible if they do end up, you know, actually liking each other?' Al wondered.
Scorpius' lips pressed together into a thin line. 'Yes.' He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs. 'What if he makes her see me the way he does?'
'What if she gets him to come round and see you the way she does?' Al shot back.
Scorpius stared into the fireplace until his eyes watered. 'I'd rather not think about it just now,' he murmured. Al bit back his retort that Scorpius was behaving like a spoiled child, and settled back into the sofa, rearranging the newspaper, so it folded back into its original lines. 'So, have your parents talked to you about playing for England?' Scorpius blurted, in an attempt to veer the conversation away from the foibles of his parents.
Al sighed softly in relief. Scorpius could be as immovable as Gibraltar, if he so chose, in regards to how he felt about people. Perhaps it was for the best to leave the topic of his parents aside for now. 'We were supposed to last night, but well...' He ran a hand through his hair. 'This long-lost cousin of Mum's shows up out of nowhere. Grew up in America,' he added with more than a bit of awe. Al peered at Scorpius. 'You know...' he said thoughtfully. 'He does sort of resemble you...' Al gestured across his face. 'Like you've got the same shape...'
'That's odd.'
Al's face cleared and he laughed. 'Ah, it's probably nothing. Dad says all the old wizarding families are all related somehow. That's probably it.'
'Probably,' Scorpius agreed. 'Wouldn't it be funny?' he mused. 'If he did end up related to me somehow, too? I'd hate to try and pick that family tree apart.'
'Hey, Scorp?'
'Yeah?'
'What if...?' Al hesitated. 'You know how I said I didn't think I was ready to play professionally?'
'Yeah.'
'What if I changed my mind?' Al said so quietly, Scorpius didn't quite catch what he'd said.
'Did you say...?'
'What if I've changed my mind?' Al repeated, just a bit louder.
'Really?'
Al shifted a little, picking at the burgeoning hole in the knee of his pajama bottoms. 'I mean, it's sort of wicked to think I might be that good. And it's not like I'd train with England during school, except for a few Saturdays or Sundays a month... I know Mum and Dad have to sign off on the whole thing, but maybe I could get them to agree to a trial during the summer hols... Do you think they'd go for that?' he asked eagerly. Almost too eagerly.
Scorpius burrowed deeper into the sofa, picking up a small throw pillow. 'I dunno,' he said. 'I wouldn't do it, but that's just me, isn't it?' He gave Al a sidelong glance. 'But I'm not some sort of Quidditch superstar, so maybe I'm not the one you ought to ask,' he said soberly.
'I know they're going to say no...' Al sighed.
'Probably.' Scorpius chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. 'Look, Al, what I know about Quidditch fits on the tip of a quill, but even I know that Seekers win or lose games. There are exceptions, I know,' he said, holding up a hand to forestall Al's protests. 'Even I unbent enough to read Krum's book. But how often does that happen? Once in a lifetime or so? And playing professionally's much different from playing at school, or with us. You miss a Snitch with us, who cares? You miss a Snitch with England? You'll get all sorts of nasty mail, at the very least. And you remember how people at school stared at you when we got Sorted? Or how everybody followed Krum around when he came to do that bit with your Quidditch class? Do you really think you're ready for that?'
'I don't know. What if I am? What am I supposed to do, then? Wait until I'm seventeen? That's years before the next World Cup!' Al protested.
'Maybe... Maybe if you agree to wait a year? Then prove that you can handle it?'
'How?'
'Honestly? I haven't the slightest idea,' Scorpius admitted, his brow furrowed a little. 'Al? Who in the name of Merlin is Heather? And why did you call me that?'
Lavinia approached the older man sitting at the miniscule table at the tiny café. 'Excusez-moi?' she asked, wincing at her rusty French.
'Oui?'
'I'm looking for the Maison d'Heron,' she continued in French, grimacing a little at how much her once-flawless command of the language had deteriorated.
'Eets down by zhe edge of zhe cleef,' he told her, in heavily-accented English. 'Eet haz a bleu door. Et many fleurs enn zhe front.'
'Merci beaucoup.' Lavinia set off down the cobbled street, her hands icy cold. She was quite uncertain of the reception she'd receive from Narcissa, especially after she'd asked Harry to all but lie to Narcissa and say she couldn't be found. She hoped Narcissa wouldn't be too put out with him -- it wasn't Harry's fault Lavinia had wanted to keep her whereabouts secret. He'd only done what she'd begged him to do. If he had, in fact, told Narcissa he hadn't managed to find her.
Lavinia shook herself slightly. Stop thinking! She ordered herself sternly. What's the worst Narcissa could do to me? She can't possibly top what Lucius managed to do. A riot of flowers spilled over a neatly painted white fence and she saw Narcissa kneeling amongst them, up to her elbows in soil. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat against the sun. It made Lavinia smile in remembrance, because it always seemed as if Narcissa's skin burned in mere minutes if she wasn't slathered in sun block and wearing a hat such as the one she wore now. Even more shocking, than the sight of Narcissa actually getting dirt under her fingernails, was what she wore. A pair of dark trousers and a jumper suited to the rigors of the garden, enveloped Narcissa's frame. She even wore a battered pair of plimsolls. As if in a trance, Lavinia tiptoed to the tiny gate and pushed it open. It creaked softly.
Narcissa glanced up irritably toward the gate. Bloody Americans, she thought, recognizing what seemed to be the classic American tourist uniform of jeans and trainers. At least she's wearing a nice jumper and not some extraordinary eyesore of a sweatshirt... Many people mistook her front garden for some sort of public square, but only the Americans were brazen enough to walk through the gate and poke through the haphazard array of flowers and herbs that she grew. 'Excuse me!' she called. 'This is private property.'
'You don't remember me, do you?' Lavinia asked, feeling somewhat amused by the complete ridiculousness of the situation.
'No.'
'You ought to.' Lavinia could almost physically feel her speech patterns revert to the formal syntax of her childhood. After forty years of living in America and hearing the plummy tones of her voice modulate into something less posh, the sensation was rather jarring. Even when Harry had been in San Francisco, she hadn't quite reverted to the admittedly snooty way of speaking she'd been taught as a girl. 'I understand you managed to expend a great deal of effort and time into searching for me. Well, you had someone else expend a great deal of time and effort,' she amended.
Narcissa surged to her feet. 'I don't know who you are, but...' Her voice died as she swept the hat from her head and stared at the woman standing just inside the gate. The lines that webbed the corners of her eyes and bracketed her mouth shifted and blurred until the image of a woman decades younger superimposed over her face. 'This must be a joke,' she muttered. 'It's not very funny, and I find it to be quite sickening.'
'I rather suppose I deserve that,' Lavinia murmured. She looked around the meandering flowerbeds. 'It's not a joke, and I guess it's not very funny.' She searched her memory for something only she and Narcissa would know. 'You spent your wedding night with me, in my bedroom, working our way through the leftover hors d'oeuvres.' Narcissa's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'Because Lucius overindulged in drink at the reception, and when he joined you in the master suite, he rather unceremoniously pushed you out of the bed just prior to passing out.'
Narcissa's knees gave out and she crumpled to the edge of a stone bench on the edge of the garden path. 'Nobody knows that,' she whispered, her breathing shallow and harsh.
'Nobody but me. And you.' Lavinia joined Narcissa on the bench.
Narcissa gently touched the back of Lavinia's hand. 'You're real...' Lavinia nodded. Narcissa ran a shaking hand through her hair. 'Might I ask you something?'
'Of course.'
'Where have you been?' Narcissa asked, her voice cracking with strain. 'And how did you know where to find me?'
'It's quite a long story,' Lavinia began. 'Do you think we might go inside?'
'Yes, how thoughtless of me...' Automatically, Narcissa stood and brushed her hands over the knees of her trousers, and led Lavinia into the villa.
'I hope you're not terribly upset with Harry Potter,' Lavinia said quietly, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, inhaling the fragrant steam.
'I knew he was lying when he said he hadn't found you,' Narcissa said pointedly, waving her wand at a pear. It sliced itself into quarters. 'The boy's too honorable for his own good,' she snorted. 'And while he might be able to lie to most people...'
'One cannot lie to a Black and believe it will pass unnoticed,' Lavinia finished, chuckling a little. 'He's rather earnest, isn't he?' She traced the grain of the scuffed kitchen table with a fingernail. 'I never intended to come back to England or France... Or Europe for that matter. And not because Lucius threatened me. I was, in fact, done with any and everything about England and Europe.' She leaned back in the chair. 'That Potter boy is quite manipulative, you know.'
'He hides it well under that innocent schoolboy expression.'
'Yes... He left a stack of photographs to persuade me my son ought to know the rest of his family. And Ben found them, and when he said he wanted to visit England, I thought I should at least make sure he managed to find Devon.'
'You wanted to be caught,' Narcissa murmured.
'I did not,' protested Lavinia.
'Where did... Benjamin, is it?... Where did he find the photographs?'
'They were on the kitchen table of my flat.'
'See? You took the easy way out. You made it to where he had to confront you. You didn't have to tell him directly.' Narcissa nibbled a section from the pear she'd sliced earlier.
'Why did you look for me now?' Lavinia asked bluntly. 'Forty years is a long time.'
'I thought you were dead,' Narcissa said, looking down at the table. She blinked and tears began to slip down her cheeks. 'He brought the pieces of your wand to me. I hid them inside a book that very day. We never talked about you. It was as if you had never existed.' Mortified, she Summoned a tea towel and covered her face with it. 'Then, I kept seeing you,' she told Lavinia, her voice muffled by the towel. 'Or what I thought was you. I saw you everywhere. I had to try...' She rubbed the towel over her cheeks. 'So when Harry told me he could trace you only as far as Italy, I was more grateful than I let on. You had managed to leave England alive. It was something,' Narcissa sniffled.
'Al?' Ginny poked her head into Al's bedroom. 'Could you come downstairs, please? Your dad and I need to have a quick word...'
Al felt his pulse begin to race. 'Yeah, sure, Mum,' he said easily, scrambling off his bed and padding after Ginny. He followed her into the office and Ginny closed the door behind them. Harry gestured to the vacant armchair, looking slightly worried. Al perched on the edge of the seat cushion, leaning forward in anticipation.
Ginny joined Harry, sitting on the arm of the chair he occupied. He reached up and gripped her hand, his fingers icy. He glanced up at her, a line appearing between his brows. Neither of them missed the light on their younger son's face. Harry held up the dark blue envelope. 'It seems that the English team wants to sign you to practice with them this summer.'
'Really?' Al tried to sound surprised, but he failed miserably.
'Did they write to you already?' Ginny asked gently.
Al's mouth opened. 'Erm... no...' he admitted. 'They had Izzy evaluate my scouting report. She told me. It was part of her job interview. She said they'd removed the page with my name and all that, so she didn't really know at first.'
'What did she tell them?' Harry asked.
'That I wasn't ready, and I was too young,' Al recited tonelessly.
'And what do you think?' Harry continued.
'I thought she was right when she told me,' Al said.
'And now?' Ginny asked, in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.
'I think I'd like to try it,' Al said recklessly.
Harry's throat tightened. 'Absolutely not.'
'But, Dad!' Al protested. 'I want to do this!'
'You're not even fourteen yet,' Harry retorted. He brandished the envelope. 'Do you know what they want, Albus? They want to make you -- all thirteen years of you -- into the English Seeker. Not the reserve, not even the practice squad. They want you to be part of the team, before you're even able to do magic outside of school!' His voice rose and echoed around the small room. He lunged out of the chair and stood in front of the fireplace. 'You can't do this without our permission.'
Al's round eyes flew toward Ginny. She bit her lip at his painfully hopeful expression. 'Not right now,' she told him. 'You need to focus on school. And you are only thirteen years old.'
'It's not fair!' Al hissed. 'What about all those things you did when you were thirteen?' he said to Harry accusingly. 'And before you were my age!'
'That's different,' Harry snapped. 'I did it because I had to. I didn't have a choice.'
'But I do!' Al shouted. 'And what if I want to choose this?'
'The answer is still no,' Harry said stiffly. 'I want you to have a normal life.'
'What if this is my normal?' Al pleaded.
'Al, please...' Ginny laid a placating hand on her son's arm. 'We just want what's best for you.'
'Yeah, by making my decisions,' Al scoffed.
'The discussion's over,' Harry cut in. 'You're not doing it.'
Al flung himself from the chair. 'Fine,' he muttered darkly, stomping from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Harry let the letter from the English team drop from his fingertips and fall into the flames of the fireplace, where he watched the edges curl and blacken before it burst into flames. It flared for a moment, brighter than the heart of the fire, before it faded and dissolved into ash. 'Did we do the right thing?' he whispered.
'It's not the same game he's used to at school,' Ginny said quietly. 'He might think he's ready, but mentally, physically, he's not.' Ginny slid into the seat of the chair, and slumped against the cushions. 'I've been involved in Quidditch a long time, love. And I've seen what happens when there's some young kid who plays really well -- almost supernaturally well -- and all sorts of expectations are placed on them, and they nearly drown under them.' She rubbed her face with her hands. 'It even happens with the Muggles,' she sighed. 'He'll get over it. And in a couple of years, if England still wants him, then we can talk again... It won't kill him to wait. He'll be all right.'
'Are you sure?' Harry asked hoarsely, meeting Ginny's eyes for the first time since Al stormed out. It was one of the few times in their marriage he didn't see reassurance in them.
'Hugo, come on! I'm going to be late!' Ron roared.
Hugo strolled into the sitting room, pulling his coat over his arms. 'Keep your hair on, Dad,' he said mildly, dipping a hand into the urn on the mantle and tossing the Floo powder into the fireplace. He smiled sweetly at Ron before stepping into the emerald flames, leaving Ron to gape after him, dumbfounded.
Ron shook himself a little, then followed Hugo through the Floo to the shop. Hugo was already busily rearranging the products by the till. 'Can I ask you something?' Ron began, as he pulled on his magenta robes.
'You really ought to get a different color,' Hugo observed. 'The magenta clashes horribly with your hair. Uncle George's too.'
'I think that was the point when he and your uncle Fred picked out this color,' Ron chuckled. 'It's mostly about what you were reading after Jane's funeral,' he said lightly. 'I mean, your mother and I aren't particularly religious, but if it's something you find that you like, it's all right, I suppose...' Ron stammered.
'When was the last time you dusted down here?' Hugo wondered, flicking a feather duster over the bottoms shelves.
'Ages.'
Hugo turned to his father. 'It's just the one bit. I've heard Aunt Ginny say it, or something like it a few times. I like it. It's all very cyclical. Balanced. That everything has to have its opposite in order to survive.' He shrugged and resumed his meticulous dusting of the shelves.
Ron stared at his son's curly head, speechless. If Hugo didn't have his nose, Ron might have wondered whose son he really was. Neither he, nor Hermione were nearly as serene as Hugo seemed to be. Things didn't seem to ruffle Hugo; he merely processed it, and got on with his life. Still waters, Ron mused. It wasn't that Hugo didn't feel things. On the contrary, Ron could see that he had felt his grandmother's death keenly, but Hugo wasn't controlled by his emotions. His mind went to the Deluminator, tucked into a corner of his sock drawer. Somehow, Ron knew Hugo would never need it.
Benjamin's eyes flew open. The room was dark, except for a small lamp burning on the bureau. He reached for his watch, and tilted it toward the light. It was only three in the morning, but in San Francisco, it was seven the previous evening. He swung his fee to the floor and dug his mobile from the battered knapsack that sat in the chair in the corner. He crept from the room, and stole down the stairs, slipping out of the back door. He grabbed one of the old day loungers that leaned against the wall of the ramshackle broom shed and carried it just past the fence that ringed the back garden. Once outside the perimeter of the Burrow, he dialed the number of April's mobile. 'Hi, Dad!'
Benjamin smiled. 'Hi, Marissa.'
'How's England?'
'It's fine. They have weird names for things, though,' he told her.
'Do they talk like Grannie?'
'Yes, they do,' Benjamin chuckled. 'Is your mom around?'
'Uh-huh...'
'Can I talk to her?'
'She's fussing at Leo,' Marissa said.
'What did he do?'
'Failed a math test. He told Mom that he didn't see the point of trying, especially when he's going to Salem in August,' Marissa informed her father, matter-of-factly. 'And he skipped his tutoring session after school. Mom threatened to show up at the school, and take him by the hand and march him to the math tutorial. She even threatened to show up in her ratty bathrobe and slippers.'
'Going for humiliation, huh?'
'Yeah.'
'Listen, Marissa, can you tell...'
'Here she is!' Marissa chirped. 'It's Dad.'
'What time is it over there?' April asked.
'Little after three in the morning.' Benjamin leaned back and stretched his feet out. 'Couldn't sleep. Still sort of on California time.'
'So, did you meet your dad's family?'
'Yeah...'
April shooed Marissa to her room and retreated into the kitchen. 'What is it?'
'What makes you think something's wrong?'
'You don't sound thrilled to be there.'
'I had lunch with them on yesterday,' Benjamin said softly. 'Do you know how many people were here?'
'Wait, where are you?'
'At Molly and Arthur's house. I had a room at a pub in London, but Arthur said I could stay with them.' Benjamin's mouth twisted a little. 'There's a photo of Dad outside my room. It's Dad with all of Molly and Arthur's kids and his twin. Molly says it was taken just after Ginny was born.' He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. 'There were...' Benjamin began to count. 'Sixteen adults, eighteen grandchildren, well, nineteen if you count a godson who's marrying one of the granddaughters. And they do this every Sunday. Every. Sunday. Well, the grandchildren who are in school come when they're on a school vacation. But the rest -- every week.'
'Sonia's family does that on Saturday for dinner,' April reminded him.
'Yeah, but at least Dalia assumes you know when you're full and doesn't keep putting food on your plate,' Benjamin objected. 'Molly? I had to foist my third helping to one of the kids.'
'You sound disillusioned,' April said.
'No, I'm not...' Benjamin sighed. 'It's just a lot to deal with. And I don't think Molly knows what to make of me. Everyone else seems to be all right with me and who I am, she seems to have accepted that my dad was her brother, but there's something else...'
'Like...?' April prompted.
'I don't know,' Benjamin confessed. 'Everybody else has been just fantastic. Especially Arthur. But Molly... She's a little... Standoffish, I guess. Like she doesn't really want to get to know me.'
'Ben, honey?'
'Yeah?'
'Did your mom ever tell you why she didn't go to Molly and Arthur for help when your dad was killed?'
'No.'
'Is Livvy with you?'
Ben shook his head. 'No. She's gone to France.'
'Why?'
'She wouldn't say. Just said she didn't want to stay in England, and she had something to do in France, and she'd meet me in London on Friday.'
April heaved a sigh. 'Just give Molly some time, okay? This isn't very easy for her, either. And if she won't tell you what's bothering her, maybe your mom can. She's not like that with the rest of her family, is she?'
'Not at all,' Benjamin exclaimed. 'That's why it's kind of like a disappointment...'
'Ah.' April propped her feet into one of the other chairs at the kitchen table. 'Call me tomorrow... Uh, your tomorrow... And let me know how it goes. Okay?'
'Yeah.'
'Go get some sleep.' April paused. 'Love you...'
'I love you, too...' Benjamin disconnected the call and stared up at the starry sky.
SEVENTY TWO -- Defensive Maneuvers
Benjamin sat on the edge of the bed, tying his shoelaces. He only had a couple more days left in England, then it was back to San Francisco. He hoped he'd be able to get a moment alone with Molly, but with the holiday, several of her younger grandchildren often came to the house during the day soon after breakfast. Benjamin thought it might have been planned by Molly, just to avoid being alone with him. The few times he'd been able to talk to April, she kept insisting he needed to give her some time.
He pushed himself off the bed and opened the door, nearly running into Arthur, who stood on the other side. 'Would you like a tour of wizarding London today?'
'Don't you have work?' Benjamin asked.
Arthur grinned. 'My department runs itself,' he chuckled. 'I'm just there to make sure they don't set themselves on fire.' He motioned for Benjamin to precede him down the stairs. 'We can take a quick tour through the Ministry. See the joke shop. Maybe pick something up for your two children. And see if Ginny can get us to a match before your Portkey...'
'I've seen professional Quidditch,' Benjamin objected.
Arthur snorted in contempt. 'Real Quidditch, son,' he scoffed. 'Not that Americans can't play,' he added, 'but their skills aren't quite up to the level of European players.'
'Like soccer,' Benjamin said.
'Soccer?'
'Oh, yeah. Football,' Benjamin corrected himself. 'Quidditch isn't quite as big in schools,' he said. 'Most of the schools are in cities, so it's a little hard to find the space to play.'
'We've had a few Yanks sign on with a team or two here,' Arthur said. 'Played quite well, too.' He pulled out his chair at the table and folded his lanky frame into it.
Benjamin looked down in dismay at the plate Molly set in front of him. He picked up the fork, and began to try to unobtrusively nudge the kippers to the side, so they didn't touch his eggs. It didn't escape Molly's notice.
'Is something wrong?' she asked.
'No...' Benjamin murmured.
'Fabian always...' Molly began, then bit off the rest of the sentence, cheeks flushing, as she turned away and began to dish eggs onto her own plate.
Benjamin shifted uncomfortably, the clink of Arthur's fork against his plate the only sound in the yawning silence. He firmly scraped the kippers to the side, in a wordless statement. I'm not Fabian. Several times since he'd arrived, Molly had started to call him by his father's name, only to catch herself and say the correct name. Sometimes, he caught her staring quizzically at him, as if he were one of those odd-looking paintings in a museum -- the kinds where women had more than the usual amount of breasts and their faces were on the side of their heads. But she didn't try to engage him in anything more than superficial conversation.
At last, Arthur Banished his plate to the sink and stood. 'Ready?' he asked Benjamin.
'Yes.' Benjamin rose with alacrity, dropping his fork, and Vanished his half-eaten breakfast, then copied Arthur's actions and sent his plate to the sink as well. He followed Arthur from the kitchen. 'Bye... Molly...' he said softly.
Arthur waited just outside the garden gate. 'If you don't mind being treated like a child for a mo, I'll Side-Along you to the Ministry. So you don't get lost and end up somewhere in Wales.'
'I don't mind.' Benjamin grasped Arthur's elbow and closed his eyes against the squeezing, nauseating sensation of Apparition.
'We'll have to go through the visitors' entrance,' Arthur said in a faraway voice. 'Register your wand and the like...' He led Benjamin to a battered red telephone box. 'Just press... six, two, four, four, two,' he muttered.
'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. What is your name and the purpose of your visit?' intoned a cool female voice.
Arthur nudged Benjamin and nodded toward the receiver. 'Uh... Benjamin Prewett and I'm visiting with Arthur Weasley...' A soft clinking sound came from the coin slot at the bottom and Benjamin scooped out a silver badge. Engraved across the front were the words, Benjamin Prewett, Five Knut Tour.
Arthur peered over Benjamin's shoulder and snickered. 'I suppose the bloody thing's got a sense of humor after all.' The interior of the telephone box began to sink into the ground.
Benjamin gazed up as they passed below the street level. 'It's at this point in the movie that people start screaming for the ditzy blonde chick in her bikini to not go through that door...' he mused. 'She always does...' At Arthur's startled look, Benjamin spent the remainder of their journey to the Atrium explaining Muggle horror films. His wand registered, Benjamin followed Arthur onto the lift and through a confusing warren of cubicles until they came to a slightly wider space. A young witch occupied the desk outside a heavy wooden door. She glared up at Arthur.
'May I help you?' she asked haughtily.
'Ah. You must be Hermione's new assistant,' Arthur sighed.
'Do you have an appointment with Mrs. Granger-Weasley?'
'No,' Arthur retorted. 'But I hardly need one if she's available.'
The witch looked at him severely. 'And why is that?'
'For starters, she's married to my youngest son,' Arthur huffed.
'Yes, I'm well aware of that fact, sir, but Mrs. Granger-Weasley's schedule is rather full today.' There wasn't a shred of apology on the witch's face. 'It wouldn't be an issue had the gentleman in with her now hadn't arrived with as much surprise as you.'
Arthur nodded slowly. 'I see.' He abruptly waved his wand and a squashy sofa landed in front of the desk. 'We'll wait,' he said cheerfully, dropping into the cushions. 'Who's in with her?'
'I'm not at liberty to say,' the witch said coolly.
'She's more of a stickler for rules than even Percy,' Arthur commented sotto voce to Benjamin. 'And that's saying something.'
Hermione stared at Draco in frank amazement before she burst into peals of laughter. She paused to try and catch her breath, but giggles kept burbling to the surface. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. 'Oh, I'm sorry...' she gasped. 'You're trying to be contrite and I'm just shrieking like a fishwife...' She mopped her cheeks with a handkerchief and took a deep breath. 'Are you in some sort of twelve-step program?'
'Excuse me?'
'You know... One of those programs that deal with issues and you have to complete a series of tasks... One of them is to make amends...'
Draco shook his head. 'No...' He looked at Hermione in bemusement. 'That's it? No screaming? No tirade that I ruined your life?'
Hermione snorted. 'Calling me a Mudblood didn't ruin my life,' she stated.
'Well, it wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it?'
'At the time, no,' Hermione admitted. 'But later... During the war, it sort of symbolized everything I stood for. I am a Muggle-born witch. And I refused then to be made to feel ashamed of it. I still feel that way.' She rested her elbows on the desk. 'I suppose I ought to thank you. If I hadn't had to put up with the likes of you for so long, I might not have been so proud of it.' She examined Draco for a moment. 'Why now? It's all disappeared into the mists of time by now.'
Draco looked down at his interlaced fingers. 'It's just something I have... Need to do.'
Hermione studied her old nemesis for several moments. 'Are you dying?' she asked bluntly.
'No. Not that I'm aware. This is merely something I need to do for myself.'
'I see.' Hermione's elbows rested on her desk and she propped her chin in her hands. 'Who else have you seen?'
'Who are you? My Auror?'
'You don't have to say,' Hermione demurred. 'From what you intimated earlier, I'm going to assume it hasn't gone well.'
'Not especially,' Draco allowed stiffly. He let several long moments spool out. 'You're really not angry?' he asked hesitantly.
Hermione shook her head. 'No. There really is a shred of humanity buried in there after all...'
Draco's eyes narrowed and his face hardened. 'I'm not a monster,' he growled defensively.
'I never said you were,' Hermione said smoothly. She rose and held out a hand. Draco stared at it quizzically. 'I'm not going to bite you.'
Haltingly, Draco extended his hand and shook Hermione's, quickly releasing her hand, as if he'd been burned.
Hermione smiled a little. 'Yes, I know. We're hardly friends. You're still Draco Malfoy and I'm still that jumped-up Mudblood married to a blood-traitor. But that doesn't mean we have to despise each other.'
Draco's lips pressed together in a tight line. Hermione thought he might have tried to choke back a wave of nausea. He nodded once and turned on his heel, stalking from the office. Hermione bit her lip, trying not to laugh aloud once more. Some things never change... she said to herself.
Draco stopped short when he saw Arthur chatting easily with a man on a squashy sofa in front of the desk. The witch behind it looked as if steam were going to come from her ears at the disorder Arthur had introduced into the painfully neat and tidy office. The redheaded man glanced up at Draco, then began to examine him, his dark eyes betraying nothing. Draco frowned, shaking his head slightly. He recognized the man from Diagon Alley last weekend -- it was the one he'd seen standing outside the joke shop, the one he'd mistaken for one of the Weasley brothers. In full daylight, Draco didn't see how he could have thought the man was a Weasley. Aside from the height and red hair, he didn't have any of the usual distinguishing characteristics of a Weasley -- namely an overabundance of freckles. But there was something disturbingly familiar about him. Draco just couldn't place it. Shrugging, he left with a curt nod toward Arthur.
Benjamin turned to Arthur. 'Who is that? And why is he looking at me like I'm some sort of new species of flobberworm?'
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the witch, who had given up all pretense of aloofness and was almost leaning forward avidly, listening to them, while she perused a scroll. He jerked his head toward the open door and led Benjamin inside Hermione's office, where she sat behind her desk, chuckling softly. 'That,' Arthur began, 'was your mother's nephew.' He looked at Benjamin pointedly. 'Your cousin, Draco.'
'Does he always look like he's got a pole shoved up his butt?' Benjamin grumbled.
'Yes.' Hermione spoke up. 'And he's been acting rather strangely...'
'I still can't get over this,' Benjamin said reverently. 'We don't have anything like it at home...' He poked a finger in the Pygmy Puff cage. A soft butter-yellow one immediately rubbed joyfully against the tip, trilling in ecstasy.
'It's much noisier during the summers,' Ron said.
Benjamin goggled at him. To his ears, the cacophony in the shop was nothing short of deafening. 'You get used to it after a while,' George added cheerfully. 'Although my wife swears I've lost half my hearing.'
'Makes sense,' Ron shot back. 'Since you've already lost half your ears,' he snickered.
'Oh, Merlin's sagging bollocks,' Arthur groaned. 'I only thought I've heard every awful one-ear joke... Didn't think it cold get worse...'
George had been watching Benjamin peer through the shop, with an all-too familiar calculating look on his face. 'Hey bro,' he said to Ron. 'Since Parker's not planning on ending up in the Ministry any time soon, you think we could successfully eradicate any bit of swottiness left in him and talk him into opening a shop in America?
Ron glanced around the crowded shop. 'Hmmm. We might. But where? New York? Chicago? San Francisco?' he added significantly.
Benjamin looked up from the bin that held small, greyish blobs. 'What is this?'
'Ah, a play on a Muggle joke,' George said brightly. 'There's a list of things it will turn into -- fake vomit, fake dog poo, severed finger -- complete with fake blood... It's even scented.'
'Oh, that's disgusting,' Benjamin muttered, but he tossed a handful into the basket he carried. 'My son will go nuts over it.'
'Would this work in America?' Ron asked Benjamin interestedly.
'It might,' Benjamin said slowly. 'You'd have to change the names of some things, and some of this stuff is a little too localized to work back home.'
'Like what?' George demanded.
Benjamin lightly touched the Hogwarts Heads Stacking Dolls, sending the one of McGonagall dressed in eye-watering head-to-toe plaid, rocking slightly. 'This wouldn't work,' he told them. 'You couldn't even replicate with Salem's heads. Each location is pretty autonomous. What goes on in Massachusetts doesn't necessarily happen in North Dakota or Missouri. And your mail-order service would be somewhat curtailed. Regulations about what magical items can be shipped by owl are pretty tight. To maintain secrecy, you see...'
'Might be easier to open one in Rome,' George mused. 'At least there you can slip the officials a little bit of gold to look the other way...'
'I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,' Arthur sighed. 'Nothing illegal, please, boys...'
'Dad, I'm hurt,' George said sadly. 'We haven't done anything illegal enough to be sent to Azkaban since Mundungus Fletcher disappeared,' he protested.
Arthur rubbed his temples. 'And you lot wonder why I've lost most of my hair...'
The scent of baked apples and cinnamon wafted under Hermione's nose. 'Pie...' she murmured. 'I love pie...'
'I know you do,' Ron said smugly. He offered her a bite of the pie on a fork.
'I thought you didn't approve of food in bed,' Hermione said, before taking the bite. Her eyes rolled back in her head in pleasure. 'Mmmmm. The best one yet...'
'You say that every time,' Ron chided without real heat.
'And it's true every time,' she teased.
'And I'm not averse to occasional food in bed,' Ron told her, swiping a drop of the cinnamon-laced apple juice off the edge of the plate with his finger. He hissed through his teeth when Hermione's lips closed around it. 'The children are home...' he warned.
'The children are in bed,' Hermione reminded him. 'And their being home has never stopped either of us before.'
Ron swallowed heavily. 'Eat your pie,' he said hoarsely.
Hermione gave him a smug smile of her own, and took the proffered plate. 'Has Malfoy been to see you recently?' she asked casually.
Ron inhaled a crumb of pastry base and began to cough. He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. 'No...' He mopped his face with his sleeve. 'Why would he do something silly like that?'
Hermione hummed in anticipation as her fork sliced through the juicy apples. 'He's either looking for redemption, or truly trying to put it all behind him.' She slid the bite into her mouth. 'It's about bloody time.' She swallowed and eyed Ron. 'No milk?'
'You don't want much, do you?' Ron huffed, flicking his wand, and a glass of milk floated into Hermione's outstretched hand. 'So... Did Malfoy come to see you?'
'Yeah. He didn't seem very happy about it.' She waved off the subject of Draco Malfoy. 'Doesn't matter. Just don't be horribly shocked if you see him come into the shop and beg forgiveness for all sorts of wrongs that you've either forgotten or let go of ages ago.'
'Oh, sure...' Ron murmured. 'The wanker only tried to poison me. Well, not me, but Dumbledore. I was an accident... But still...'
'I know,' Hermione soothed. 'But how often does a Malfoy attempt any sort of apology?'
'That's bound to be humiliating,' Ron observed. 'I mean, I know how hard it is to ask you to forgive me for being a git,' he said.
'You haven't been that bad in years,' Hermione argued.
'I have my moments,' Ron laughed. 'And so do you,' he quickly added. 'But blokes like Malfoy don't ask people to forgive them. Especially not the likes of us.'
'You mean the Mudblood and the blood-traitor?' Hermione asked.
Ron chuckled in deep guffaws. 'I love it when you talk dirty like that.' He pulled the plate from Hermione's unresisting hand. 'You can finish this later...'
Draco slouched in the armchair, his feet stretched out in front of him. 'It was awful,' he said. 'It was almost more horrible than when I tried to apologize to Mother.'
Andrew set his notebook aside. 'Oh?'
Draco heaved a sigh and glared at the ceiling over his head. 'Mother's ire, I understood. Everything she's had to try and deal with the last several years has been a direct result of either my father's actions or mine. The two of us, in effect, ruined her life as much as we did ours. Katie Weasley... I didn't ruin her life,' he said defensively.
'So you say,' Andrew murmured noncommittally. 'What happened with her, exactly?'
Draco scowled at the Healer. 'Don't you know?' he drawled sarcastically. 'I thought the entire world knew.'
'As I've told you before, I do know, but I'd prefer if you said it yourself.'
Draco's fingers twined together in a Gordian knot. He fancied his heart pounded so hard, it would be visible through the layers of skin and muscle. The sand that flowed from the upper globe in the hourglass seemed to slow to a trickle. 'I was supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore during my sixth year of school,' he admitted slowly, haltingly. It was the first time he'd admitted it aloud to anyone since that terrible night atop the Astronomy tower. 'I didn't have the... I don't know... It wasn't courage... But whatever it was... I couldn't make myself do it. Not directly. I didn't want to actually do it. I couldn't bring myself to even try. So I tried to force other people to do it for me.' Draco's throat closed and he swallowed heavily. 'I wouldn't even curse the person directly... I cursed Rosmerta, at the Three Broomsticks... And made her curse someone else...'
'Set yourself up for failure from the beginning,' Andrew commented. 'We could argue that's what you wanted all along.'
'Yeah,' Draco muttered. 'But still selfish, no? If it worked, I'd have succeeded, but without blood on my hands. The really pathetic thing was, I knew Potter, Granger, and Weasley were on to me. I knew from the beginning. I almost wanted them to figure it all out. Then I would have been punished by wizarding law, and I wouldn't have to do it anymore. I wish they had before I had Rosmerta curse Katie. Because I almost killed her. I could have killed both of them.'
'Did you tell Katie that?'
Draco nodded. 'Something like that.' He began to work his fingers apart, and instead of seeing his own hands, the image of Katie's still-brutally scarred finger arose. 'I wasn't expecting roses and sunshine,' he sighed. 'I wasn't expecting for Katie to react as she did, either. Not with that level of vehemence...'
'Do you wish you hadn't apologized to her?' Andrew asked bluntly.
'No.' Draco surprised himself with the speed at which he replied. 'I mean, it was awful, and it brings up all that old guilt, but later... Later...' he trailed off, shrugging in embarrassment. 'I don't quite know how to say it. It's almost like a relief to finally say it.'
Andrew nodded, and retrieved his notebook, jotting a few things down. 'And how are things going with your wife and son?'
Draco heaved a sigh and flopped against the cushions of the armchair. He glanced pointedly at the hourglass. The sand had emptied from the upper globe some time ago. 'Next time.'
Benjamin stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand. 'Stupid ghoul...' he muttered.
'I'm sorry, dear?' Molly asked, perplexed.
'Ghoul,' Benjamin supplied. 'Moaned and clanked all night...'
Molly chuckled a little. 'He does do that. We've managed to tune him out ages ago.' She turned to the stove. 'Arthur got called up to Edinburgh. There's a box of charmed household goods in a church rummage sale.' She pointed her wand at a loaf of bread. 'Marmalade or jam for your toast, Fab... Benjamin?'
'Jam...' Benjamin poured himself a cup of coffee before Molly could fill his cup with tea. He added milk and sugar to it and cupped his hands around its soothing warmth. 'Do you have anything going on today?'
'Not especially...'
'Maybe you could tell me about my dad,' Benjamin ventured. Molly's shoulders drew together and hunched defensively. 'I know you don't talk about him much, at least that's what Arthur's told me,' he stated. 'You don't talk about either of your brothers... I mean, Mom's told me what she knows about Dad, and she can tell me the usual things, like his favorite color, or what kind of man he was. And she can tell me some of what he was like in school, but I've been told back then, all of you were put into different dormitories, and you didn't really socialize.' Benjamin inhaled deeply. He was speaking quickly, before Molly could cut him off or try to change the subject. 'So she can't tell me what Dad was like before then. Like I didn't know his handwriting was like chicken scratch until this past Sunday. Explains a lot. Like my daughter, Marissa -- she has the worst handwriting and April and I have spent hours trying to make her practice, and she does and it's sort of legible, but it's still horrible. You can tell me things Mom can't.' He took another deep breath. 'And maybe you could get to know me. On my merits, separate from my dad.'
Molly's hands shook. She didn't trust herself to carry the two laden plates to the table, and rather wildly jabbed her wand at them. The plates landed haphazardly on the table and some of the contents slid off the edge. She dropped into the chair across the table from Benjamin. 'They were two years older than me,' she said, her voice wobbling. Gideon would always complain about having me tag along after them, but Fabian would tolerate my presence. He was an excellent swimmer, Fabian. Taught me how to swim. They were both excellent duelers. Fabian was much more serious than Gideon. He liked to have fun, to be sure, and could pull pranks with the best of them, but he knew where the line was. Didn't cross it often. When Ron was a baby, Fabian would sit up with him at night. Ron didn't settle down easily, so to give Arthur and me a break, he would sit up in the sitting room with Ron. He would talk to Ron, and spend hours reading while he rocked him. He tried to keep the twins -- my twins -- from teasing Percy too much.'
Benjamin leaned forward eagerly, pushing his plate aside. 'Sounds too good to be true,' he commented.
Molly burst into peals of laughter. 'He was stubborn and willful, and had a terrible temper,' she corrected. 'When he got angry you could hear him across three counties.'
'That's what my wife would say,' Benjamin interjected wryly. 'About me.'
The laughter on Molly's face faded. 'I was devastated when he died,' she said quietly.
'So was Mom.' Benjamin spread his hands over the table. 'Why didn't you let her stay here?'
'She never asked,' Molly retorted.
'I find that hard to believe,' Benjamin told her. 'Not with the way your family takes in people.'
'She never asked,' Molly repeated. 'She never even came here.'
'Why not?'
Molly slid her own plate aside. 'I've never met your mother, really,' she confessed. 'Fabian never brought her here.' Too keyed up to sit, Molly rose to her feet and cleared the plates from the table, taking last night's clean dishes from the drainer and plunging them into the sink, steam from the hot water, frizzing her already-frizzy hair even further. 'You know about the war? I'm going to assume your mother told you that much?'
'Yeah.'
'I thought she was helping to set up Fabian.' Molly scrubbed a plate that was already spotless. 'I thought she was leading him, and by extension Gideon, into a trap where they'd be tortured or killed.' She set the plate in the drainer and stared at the reddened skin of her hands. 'And I told Fabian as much. He kept insisting I was wrong.' Her fingers tightened around the edge of the sink. 'She was with Fabian when their bodies were found. Did your mother tell you that?'
'I don't see how...' Benjamin began.
'She was there!' Molly ground out. 'Even if she didn't plan it, she was still part of it.'
Benjamin shoved his chair back from the table so violently, that it fell over with a bang. 'Don't,' he rasped. 'Mom didn't...'
'I know,' Molly admitted grudgingly. 'Gideon and Fabian were found by friends of ours. They said her distress was quite obvious and unforced,' she said stiffly. 'But if she hadn't been involved with Fabian, they might still be alive.'
'Did Dad hold a grudge like you do?' Benjamin asked. 'Do you hold that against me?'
Molly's eyes closed. Her mouth worked soundlessly, while the tap dripped water, punctuating the silence. Benjamin muttered something unintelligible, and stalked into the back garden.
SEVENTY THREE -- Carefully Constructed Walls
Molly perched on a small chair in front of an equally small vanity wedged in a corner of her bedroom. She cradled a silver-backed hairbrush in her hands. It had been part of her seventeenth birthday gift from Fabian and Gideon. Hummingbirds were engraved along the handle and back. Arthur's arm snaked over her shoulder and plucked it from her lax grip. He deftly slid out the pins that held her hair in a loose knot, low on the back of her head. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders, and Arthur ran his hand through the curls, watching the lamplight play over the fading red strands as he spread them over her back. He began to gently work the brush through Molly's hair, making her eyes close in pleasure. 'This is how we ended up with Ginny,' he remarked, with a rueful chuckle. Ron wasn't yet a year old, the older boys were off with Fabian and Gideon for a weekend of bachelor uncle debauchery, Fred and George had worn themselves out with the run of the house that evening, so the house was as close to peacefully quiet as it had been before the boys were born. He'd gotten distracted partway through brushing Molly's hair, and by Christmas it was obvious what the result of that particular distraction would be.
'I can guarantee that won't happen again,' Molly quipped, leaning back into Arthur's chest. 'The pregnant part of it, at least.'
'That would be too much, even for the Quibbler,' Arthur replied. He ran the brush in gentle strokes through Molly's hair. 'Benjamin's leaving tomorrow,' he said softly.
'I know.' Molly stiffened slightly.
'You ought to... It wasn't his fault, or his mother's. Fabian knew what he was doing when he became involved with her.' Arthur met Molly's eyes in the mirror. 'And even if Fabian was targeted because of it, it's no more than they would have done to anybody else,' he stressed. 'And consider what she lost in the process...' Arthur's long fingers wound into Molly's hair, and swept it away from her neck. He pressed a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 'Just something to think about, eh?' He set the hairbrush down on the vanity and slid into their bed.
Within seconds, his soft snores filled the room.
Molly ran her fingertips over the handle of the brush. 'I have been thinking about it,' she murmured. 'Since the day he showed up in our back garden...'
Daphne set a basket of Scorpius' clean and pressed uniforms on the foot of his bed. 'Perri's let the hems of your trousers down, so they ought to hold until the end of the year. Barring any sudden growth spurts between now and the end of June,' she added lightly. Scorpius grunted in reply, barely looking up from his textbook.
Daphne's eyes narrowed and she jabbed her wand at the book. It slammed shut and Scorpius jerked back in surprise. 'What'd you do that for?' he demanded. 'I was trying to finish my homework...'
'What's gotten into you?' Daphne retorted. 'You've been lurching around this house like a wounded hippogriff since the beginning of the week.'
Scorpius shoved his chair away from his desk. 'What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?'
'I beg your pardon,' Daphne responded in confusion. 'What are you talking about?'
'I saw you with him!' Scorpius shouted. 'I saw you in the kitchen kissing him!'
Daphne sat heavily on the bed, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor. 'Oh.'
'That's all you can say?' Scorpius said incredulously. 'Why are you...?' He turned back to his book in a huff of disgust. 'Never mind...'
'Scorpius... I...'
Scorpius' shoulders hunched at her words. 'It's always just been the two of us, because he's never been bothered,' he muttered mutinously.
Daphne's mouth opened. 'We're married,' she said lamely.
'That's absolute crap,' Scorpius scoffed.
'Watch your language, young man!' Daphne snapped. 'And mind your cheek. You may very well be angry with me, but I'm still your mother, and you're not to speak to me in that way.' Scorpius glared at her mutely, his lips in a thin line. She folded her hands in her lap, a sign Scorpius recognized as one of barely stifled anger. 'What I do, or do not do with your father is my concern,' she said tightly. Scorpius' lips pressed together whitely. 'It does not change, nor effect how I feel about you,' she added.
'But why him?' Scorpius shot back petulantly.
'Are you suggesting I have an affair?'
'No...' Scorpius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 'But he's never been very nice to you... Or me...' He gazed at the polished wooden floor under his feet. 'I just want you to be happy.' He toyed with the quill in his hands. 'He's not... slipping anything in your morning tea, is he?'
Daphne shook her head. 'No.' She bent to collect the scattered clothing from the floor, righting the basket. 'You don't need to worry so much about me. I can take care of myself.' She began to fold a shirt, carefully lining up its seams. 'I can promise that he's not mistreating me.' She set the folded shirt inside the basket. 'What time were you supposed to be at the Potters' house tomorrow?' she asked, their conversation clearly over.
'Four.'
'Very well. I'll make sure to have your things ready for you to pack in the morning.' Daphne rose from the foot of the bed and started to walk out of the room. 'I asked him to try and give this a chance,' she said softly, one hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. 'It takes years to dissolve a wizarding marriage, if you can even manage it at all. I think if that's what I have to live with; I should at least try and see if we could at least coexist peacefully. Your father and I never... We've never gotten past the nodding acquaintance stage before now. But this has been my idea from the beginning. If you feel you must blame someone, then by all means, do place it squarely upon my shoulders. Not his.' She managed to walk steadily into the corridor before fleeing to her bedroom, closing the door with the as little noise as possible. The soft click rang through the house as loudly as if she'd slammed the door.
Molly shuffled into the kitchen, absently flicking her wand at the kettle, while she yawned. Another flick of her wand tipped tea leaves into the old and battered teapot. She picked up the kettle, just as it began to whistle, and poured the water into the teapot. Movement in the back garden caught her eye. Benjamin sprawled in one of the old day loungers, staring into the leaves of the apple tree. Molly poured a cup of tea for herself, and started to pour one for Benjamin, but checked the motion. Doesn't like tea... she told herself sternly. Definitely an American... She carried her cup out into the chilly garden and settled into the chair next to Benjamin. 'You're up early,' she commented.
'Still sort of on San Francisco time,' Benjamin replied. 'I don't adjust to time changes very well...' He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his worn sweatshirt. 'Listen, if you want to hold a grudge against Mom, that's your prerogative. But don't expect me to sit by and not defend her. She did everything she could for me when I was growing up. She always lit up when she talked about Dad. There isn't much else in the world that would do the same. She was the best mother... parent... I could have asked for. If I do half as good as job with my two as she did with me, then I'll be a lucky man. She's never asked anyone for anything. And if you can't see past some fifty year-old grudge, I'm sorry.' With that, he pushed himself to his feet. 'I'll just go and get my things and go back to London. Tell Arthur I said goodbye, won't you?'
'Benjamin, wait...' Molly took a deep breath. 'What do you do...?'
'Like my job?' Molly nodded. Benjamin resumed his seat and leaned back in the chair. 'I work with Mom. We have a small shop that sells potions ingredients and a few other magical items. It does all right. Won't make me wealthy, but I can afford to keep food on the table and shoes on my kids' feet. Mom likes it because she gets to read between customers. I like it because I get to stay in the back and not deal with people. We sell mostly to the students and staff at Salem, and other wizards and witches in the Bay area. My wife, April, is their librarian.'
Molly wrapped her dressing gown around herself a little more tightly against the chill. 'Did you want to do something else?'
Benjamin shrugged. 'Not really. I mean, I took all the tests to finish school and looked into a few things. Like working as a magical prosecutor for the western region,' he said with a raised eyebrow. Arthur had told him how much she'd wanted each of their children to work for the Ministry. 'And I had the scores on the test to get into the training program, but I would have had to leave San Francisco and go to school in St. Louis. I just...' Benjamin shifted slightly. 'I didn't want to leave Mom alone. It was always just the two of us, until I got married...'
Molly looked down at her hands, almost surprised to see the cup she cradled in her hands. She lifted it to her mouth, and sipped the hot, bracing tea. 'Why did you come here...?' She shook her head, aware of how peevish she sounded. 'I mean, what made you come all the way out here to meet people you never knew about?'
Benjamin swiped the sleeve of the ragged sweatshirt under his nose. It was starting to run in the chilled breeze. 'What would you have done?' he asked. 'If the situations had been reversed, and it was you who found out your brother had a son out there somewhere?' he added, waving a hand around to indicate the larger world beyond the confines of the Burrow. 'Wouldn't you have gone to try and meet him?'
Molly gulped and nodded.
'I know you think Mom's a bad person, because of who she happened to be related to, but she's not. From what I've been told, Dad wouldn't have looked at her twice if she had been as awful as you think,' Benjamin said defensively, unwilling to let the topic go easily. 'And I know you're not happy with her, because she took off and never said a word about me to you. But by the time she found out she was pregnant, it was easier to stay separated from everything over here.' He slumped in the chair, wrapping his arms tightly around his ribs. 'I get it. I do. I understand why she made those choices. It doesn't mean I like them any more than you do.' He glanced at Molly from the corner of his eye. 'For what it's worth, I'm still angry at her for not telling me. I'll forgive her eventually. And maybe...' He let the thought trail off into the mist that swaddled the grass at their feet.
Harry sprawled on the edge of an armchair, perusing the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly while Al and Scorpius played chess. From time to time, Harry glanced over the edge of the magazine, studying the two boys. Their conversation seemed more than a little stilted, something Harry found odd, considering they usually chatted like magpies until one of them fell asleep. Scorpius was entirely a noncompetitive sort and generally didn't care about winning or losing. Not that he didn't employ every strategy at his fingertips, but if he lost, he could easily let the game slide into the past, without replaying each move in his head. He seemed to be more interested in the process of the game. Al, on the other hand, was a fierce competitor and hated losing. He could be a gracious loser, but even Harry could tell he was about to lose this game. He supposed he couldn't blame Al for his competitive zeal. He came by it honestly, considering both of his parents hated losing. Al glared at the board, weighing his options, scowling as he realized he had none. He tipped his king over with a forefinger, then muttered, 'Excuse me.' He stalked into the kitchen without another word.
Scorpius bit his lip, but merely reset the pieces, keeping whatever comment that lurked behind his opaque grey eyes to himself. Harry sighed and set the magazine aside. 'You know about the English team, don't you?' he began.
'Yes, I do.'
'And?' Harry prompted.
'And... What?'
'What does he really think?'
Scorpius carefully lined up the black pawns, setting them precisely in the center of their squares. At length, he looked up. 'Al is my best friend,' he stated. 'And you're asking me to reveal things that he might not want you to know?'
'Fair enough,' Harry allowed. 'What about you? How do you feel about it?'
Scorpius set a rook in its square, turning it slightly. 'I can't really say,' he admitted, not meeting Harry's penetrating gaze.
Harry studied Scorpius' inscrutable expression with grudging respect. Scorpius wasn't going to say one way or the other, out of loyalty to Al. Even if Al was behaving like a perfect git just now. Before he could try to ferret it out of the boy, someone knocked on the front door. Harry and Scorpius exchanged a questioning look. Even now, Scorpius still came through the front door of the house. Scorpius shrugged. 'It's not me,' he said. 'I'm already here.'
'Stay here,' Harry ordered in a tone that would brook no arguments. Nobody ever came to the front door, aside from Daphne or Narcissa if they had come to drop Scorpius off with them. He drew his wand and opened the thick wooden door a little to see Benjamin standing on the other side. 'Oh, hi.' He opened the door wider. 'Come in.'
Benjamin slipped thorough the door. 'I'm leaving in a few hours, and I thought I'd leave something with you.' He pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. 'This is for... The oldest boy... the one leaving school soon. Parker, right?'
'Yeah.'
'It's just if he decides to travel and come to California, that's my address. My mom's, too, in case he needs somewhere to stay.'
Harry tucked it into his own pocket. 'I'll make sure he gets it. Thanks.' He looked at the other man standing uncomfortably in his entryway. 'You could have left this with Molly or Arthur,' he noted.
'I could,' Benjamin admitted, shifting from foot to foot in a way that reminded Harry of James when he was small and needed the loo, but refused to tell anyone. 'How did it feel? When you became part of the family?' he finally blurted. He'd gleaned a little of Harry's history from Molly and Arthur over the past week, and while their situations weren't very similar, going from practically no family to the mass of humanity that made up the Weasleys was more than a bit of culture shock. He thought Harry might understand his feelings of disorientation.
Harry stowed his wand in his pocket and motioned for Benjamin to follow him into the sitting room. Scorpius was still hunched in front of the chessboard, arranging the white pieces into place. 'This is Al's friend, Scorpius,' Harry told Benjamin. 'Your mother's...'
'Yeah. Draco's son...' Benjamin interrupted. 'Nice to meet you,' he said to Scorpius, holding out a hand.
'This is your father's cousin, Benjamin,' Harry said to Scorpius, who was eyeing the proffered hand with something akin to suspicion. 'His mother was, erm...'
'My father was one of Molly's brothers, and my mother was your father's aunt,' Benjamin explained.
Scorpius' face scrunched in confusion. 'But you don't look like Andromeda or Bellatrix, and from what I know of Bellatrix, she would have rather had her wand broken than get involved with a relation of Molly's,' he said with the perfect logic of one who was missing quite a bit of information.
'Lucius' sister,' Harry supplied.
'But Grandfather didn't have any siblings,' Scorpius pointed out.
'None that you knew,' Harry responded.
'My mother and I lived abroad,' Benjamin interjected. 'She and your grandfather had a, uh, falling-out before I was born.'
'Can't say I blame her,' Scorpius muttered. He took Benjamin's hand and shook it.
'Why don't you go find out where Al's gotten to?' Harry suggested. Scorpius, no stranger to suggestions that were really orders, headed for the kitchen. The sound of the back door of the house slamming shut soon followed. 'Sit, please,' Harry said to Benjamin. 'How did it feel?' he mused. Harry had found he rather liked Benjamin over the past week. He was unassuming, slightly irreverent, and was rather good company. Even without the ties of family, Harry though he and Benjamin might have been friends. 'It was,' he began, then trailed off, heaving a long sigh. 'It was a little baffling,' he finally said quietly. 'I was raised by an aunt and uncle that didn't like me very much. Well, they didn't like me at all,' he amended. 'It took a long time for me to understand the concept of unconditional affection. And given who I was...' He shrugged a little abashedly.
Benjamin nodded. He'd asked April to see if she could find out anything about the people his mother spoke of in the stacks of Salem's library. Researcher that she was, she had presented him with a fairly thick packet of information. 'You thought people liked you for the celebrity,' he said.
'Yeah.' Harry sounded a little surprised.
'I do live in California,' Benjamin said. 'Muggle movie and television stars and all that who are more famous for doing nothing but wearing tacky dresses is considered informative news.' He grimaced with a little distaste. 'Makes you wonder if all their legions of friends would still be there if they were nobody.'
'Exactly.' Harry settled into the armchair. 'Although, it was mostly in school or in Diagon Alley that it was ever an issue. But still, I thought if I made life too difficult for Molly and Arthur, they wouldn't want me around anymore. That is what took years to figure out.' He laced his fingers together. 'It was a little odd to find that I was accountable to someone else, besides myself. People who cared to see I had proper clothing that wasn't in tatters or so large I nearly drowned in them. Or that I had enough to eat, and wasn't going off to do something stupid. And Molly... I love her like a mother -- she's the only mother I've ever known -- but she does have her moments.'
'You can say that again,' Benjamin snorted.
'Molly doesn't react in ways that people would see as normal,' Harry stressed. 'Pain, fear... It comes off as a bit shrill.' Benjamin gave Harry a look of frank disbelief. 'All right. A lot shrill. And angry. And guilt tends to make it worse.' Harry knew Molly and Benjamin hadn't had the easiest of times the past week. 'She means well most of the time.'
'It's been really confusing,' Benjamin said. 'Molly, of course, but it's like all this history and all these relationships. I thought...' He looked down at his hands. 'I don't know what I thought. I was happy before you came to Mom's shop. You don't miss what you've never known, right? And I didn't know I was missing all this family. But now? It's a mess. I don't know what to do next.'
Harry leaned forward. 'Just don't disappear. Write to Molly or any of the rest of us. I know Ginny would love to hear from you. And if you receive some squashy package in the post around Christmas, don't be too surprised.'
Lavinia slumped tiredly into the hard chair inside the Portkey office of the British Ministry. The week in France had been exhausting emotionally as she and Narcissa tried to bridge a forty-year gap in their relationship. In addition, she'd worried incessantly about Benjamin and how he was getting on or not with the Weasleys.
Benjamin walked into the office, dropping his bag next to Lavinia's. 'Hi, Mom...'
Lavinia looked up at him, a smile curving her lips. 'Hello, Ben.'
'Five twenty-three Portkey to New York City! Five twenty-three Portkey to New York City!' bawled a Ministry official.
Lavinia pushed herself to her feet, and reached for her bag. Benjamin suddenly hugged her tightly. 'Oh my. What's all this?'
'Missed you, Mom,' he murmured. 'Love you...'
'I love you, too, Ben.' Lavinia pulled away, and stooped for her bag. 'Shall we?' she asked, gesturing toward the door.
'Let's go home.' Ben slung his knapsack over his shoulder and led Lavinia through the door to the Portkey that would return them both to San Francisco.
James rearranged himself restlessly, letting one hand and foot dangle off the edge of the mattress. His mind drifted aimlessly to the events of that afternoon. A film with Maya, and Teddy and Victoire as their somewhat errant chaperones. They had tactfully taken seats several rows in front of James and Maya, allowing the two fifteen-year olds a bit of privacy. He could feel their interlaced hands resting on his thigh, burning through his jeans. Going back to Teddy's flat for tea, only for Teddy to remember he didn't have a crumb of food in the place. Sending him and Maya up to the flat, while Teddy and Victoire made a detour to the market. The intense, but oh-too-brief time spent on Teddy's sofa, furiously snogging with Maya, in which she'd somehow ended up straddling his lap. Teddy and Victoire had made copious amounts of noise when they came up the stairs, giving James and Maya a few moments to collect themselves, in which James fervently wished for his school robes. Or his schoolbag, at the very least. He settled for a well-placed throw pillow, snatched from the corner of the sofa.
One hand toyed mindlessly with the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, but before he could tug at the knot, a gurgling moan floated through the wall. James' hand froze. He waited tense several moments, and resumed his efforts to pick apart the knot, his hips shifting in anticipation. Just as it unraveled under his questing fingers, the moan sounded once more. You're just hearing things, he told himself, shaking his head. It turned into a high-pitched throaty squeal. James savagely retied the drawstring and swung his feet to the floor.
He yanked the bedroom door open to discover Lily, Al, and Scorpius clustered in the corridor, just outside their bedroom doors. 'Did we get a ghoul and nobody told me?' Al asked
James bit his lip. 'Erm. No,' he said faintly. He wanted to clap his hands over Lily's hears. She was staring intently at the firmly closed door of their parents' bedroom.
'That sounds like Mum,' Lily commented.
Another noise stole from under the door -- nearly a growl. It sounded rather demanding to James' admittedly unversed ears. He frowned, trying to decipher the words under the guttural moans. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he whirled around. 'Go back to bed!' he ordered.
'Why?' Al asked, with a slight belligerent tone. James' eyes narrowed. Ever since Harry and Ginny had denied Al the privilege of signing with England, he'd been a bit of a strop over it.
'Just do it,' James hissed. 'Go back to bed and close the bloody door.'
Lily merely shrugged and slipped back into her bedroom. Al glared at James in a silent battle of wills that he nearly won. He only turned back into his bedroom with a huff when James clenched his fist, making his knuckles crack ominously. Scorpius eyed the offending bedroom door curiously, but followed Al back into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. Alone, James took a deep breath and marched toward the door. He knocked on it a little tentatively. 'Mum? Dad?'
On the other side of the door, Harry wrapped his arms firmly around Ginny's thighs, and continued his activities. Ginny nearly howled as his tongue swiped across a particularly sensitive area. Under it all, she could just make out a soft tapping sound. 'Harry...' she breathed. 'Harry, stop...' She uncurled her fingers from the sheet under her body and nudged the top of Harry's head. 'Stop...'
Harry lifted his head, peering at her nearsightedly. 'Why?'
'Door...'
Harry glanced over his shoulder. 'What about it?' The knocking grew just a bit louder.
'Did you hear that?' she gasped.
'Hear what?' Harry mumbled, somewhat preoccupied with his wife.
'Mum? Dad?' James' voice sounded anxious.
'Oh bloody hell!' Harry scrambled off the bed, flinging the quilt over Ginny, before he dove for his abandoned jeans, shoving his glasses onto his nose. He jerked them over his feet as he stumbled toward the door, managing to pull them over his hips, and tug the zipper in place, as he opened the door, the back of his hand swiping over his mouth. 'All right, James?'
James felt the back of his neck and face flush painfully. He tried to meet Harry's eyes, but failed miserably. He fixed his gaze to the scar bisecting Harry's left shoulder. 'Erm... is Mum feeling unwell?' he asked in uncomfortable formality.
'No, she's quite all right,' Harry replied, wondering what James was on about, as he glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, sitting up in bed, with the quilt wrapped loosely around her body. More than all right, he thought smugly.
'Right, well...' James shut his eyes tightly. 'You might want to check your charms,' he said significantly. 'The little ones thought Mum was ill or something,' he coughed.
Harry raised an eyebrow at James' use of "little ones" to describe Lily and Albus, before the color drained from his face. 'Oh. Right.' He swallowed heavily. 'I'll take care of it.'
James nodded, and fled back to the relative sanctuary of his bedroom. Harry closed the door quietly and darted for the night table next to his side of the bed, grabbing his wand. He flicked it several times at the walls, groaning in dismay as the bright blue hue flared and quickly faded. Too quickly. If all the Silencing charms that were on the walls held, it should have faded slowly, taking nearly five minutes to fade completely. 'Damn,' Harry muttered.
'We forgot to check the charms with the children at school,' Ginny sighed. With Lily at Hogwarts, they hadn't had to worry about being overheard. 'How much did they hear?' she asked, wincing.
Harry swept his wand in a wide circle, deftly building up the charms once again. 'Enough to scar James for life,' he replied. 'Probably won't look at a girl until he's twenty-five.'
'Probably won't be able to look at either of us until the Christmas holiday,' Ginny predicted.
'This was so much easier to handle when they were small.' Harry doffed his jeans and climbed back into bed.
'Lots of things were easier to handle when they were small,' Ginny retorted.
'And to think my parents missed out on all this...' Harry sighed.
James stood next to his bed, shoving his things into his knapsack. He'd awoken before his alarm clock rang after a sleepless night. He heard a light knock on his bedroom door that was followed by his father's tousled head. 'Oh, you're up,' Harry said in no little surprise.
'Yeah.' James concentrated on the suddenly difficult task of buckling the strap of his bag.
'Erm, listen... Would you like to talk about what happened last night?'
'Not especially,' James grunted.
Harry sighed. 'Right. Look, what your mother and I were doing, it's perfectly natural,' Harry muttered.
James spun on his heel. 'Dad! Just stop, please! I really don't want to hear anything about what you and Mum do when we're not here or sleeping. I'd just like to pretend it didn't happen, all right?'
'All right.' Harry turned and went down the stairs to start breakfast.
James only came down when the others were already at the table, and nearly bolted his meal. 'James, slow down,' Ginny cautioned. 'You're going to choke.' James reluctantly slowed the speed in which he shoveled food into his mouth, keeping his eyes glued to his plate.
No sooner than he had scraped the last of his eggs off the plate, James dropped the fork and abruptly stood. 'Can we go?' Without waiting for a response, he stalked into the sitting room, and stood stiffly by the fireplace, ready to Floo to Ron and Hermione's flat. They would go to King's Cross from there.
Lily picked up her glass of orange juice. 'What's going on with James?'
'Nothing,' Ginny said quickly. 'I don't think he slept well last night.'
'I didn't sleep well, and I'm not in a strop,' Lily muttered.
'Yes, well, I don't think he felt very well,' Ginny replied, her ears burning.
'Must be something going around,' Al hooted.
'We need to leave soon if you don't want to be late for the train,' Harry said quickly, gathering his and James' plates.
'Okay, Dad, keep your hair on,' Al huffed. He set his plate in the sink and went into the sitting room, joining James by the fireplace. 'What's wrong with you?' he demanded.
'Nothing.' James' shoulders drew closer to his ears.
'Did you ever figure out what that noise was last night?' Scorpius asked brightly, retrieving his bag from the bottom of the stairs.
'Yes.' James' lips barely parted. He folded his arms across his chest. 'Can we not talk about last night?' When he saw Harry, Ginny, and Lily emerge from the kitchen, he snatched a handful of Floo powder and threw into the fireplace, darting into the emerald flames.
He landed smoothly on the hearth of Ron and Hermione's flat. 'The others are on their way,' he told Ron, helping Rose stuff one more book into her bag. James moved to stand by the door. Ron looked at Rose and shrugged. When the others arrived, he drew Harry to the side. 'Did James do something?'
Harry shook his head. 'He heard...' His face flushed. 'Me and Gin...'
Ron burst into laughter. 'You forgot to check your charms?' he spluttered, keeping his voice low.
'Yeah,' Harry admitted.
'Oh, poor kid.'
'Yeah.'
'I thought you said we had to leave soon, Dad,' Lily piped up at Harry's elbow.
'Yes, we're going right now,' Harry told her. 'Let's try and not get separated going to the station?' he called to Al and Scorpius, who had gotten quite ahead of them in January.
When James crossed through the barrier at King's Cross, he went straight for the train, finding an empty compartment. He threw his knapsack on a seat and flung himself into it. He pointedly avoided looking out the window at the platform. After several moments, Maya joined him. 'Hiya,' she said, leaning down to kiss him. James jerked away. 'What? I brushed my teeth before I left the pub,' she said bemusedly.
'I overheard my parents shagging last night,' James muttered. 'Then Dad wanted to be all parental and talk about it this morning.'
'Oh, gross!'
'Yeah.' James slouched on the seat. 'Do your parents ever do barmy stuff like that?'
Maya sat next to James. 'Mum tells me all the time she hopes I have a daughter just like me,' she mused.
'That's what my mum says,' James laughed. 'She's living for the day I have a child, and she hopes it acts just like I did.' He shook his head. 'I don't think I'll ever understand them.'
SEVENTY FOUR -- Gathering Clouds
Al sighed and rubbed an old towel over his dripping hair. Isabella had called off practice only because the rain came down so hard and so fast, even Impervious charms couldn't keep the water out of their eyes and noses. He wrung the thin towel out, making a face at the amount of water that splattered on the floor. Al listlessly balled up the towel and tossed it toward the laundry basket tucked in the corner of the changing room, glancing up at the ceiling. The rain pounded against the slate shingles, creating a dull roar in the room that muffled the chatter of his brother and cousins. To say he'd been horribly disappointed when his parents refused to grant him permission to try out for the English team was a bit of an understatement. He'd been despondent to the point where he'd snapped at Scorpius, picked fights with Lily, goaded James, and generally ignored both of his parents. Al was almost a little surprised they were still talking to him.
Lost in his own thoughts, Al didn't notice the others filing out of the changing room, bundled into cloaks against the downpour. He was staring into the depths of his locker, watching the rainwater drip from his gloves when James spoke. 'They're right, you know.'
Al's shoulders hunched irritably in reply. James plowed on, undaunted. He knew about his parents' conversation with Al. James had overheard him giving Scorpius an abbreviated account of it. 'They're right. You've watched the professional games. You've even been to World Cup matches. You know the matches are faster and way more intense than anything we do here, even more than what we do at home.' James' face twisted for a moment, as if he were trying to stem a tide of sick from spewing all over his shoes. 'You are good,' he admitted gruffly, even if it did gall him to say so. 'You're good,' he repeated. 'But you're not quite there yet.'
Al rounded on James. 'I can see it,' he hissed. 'I can see the Snitch before they can. I can tell they can't see it. It goes in slow-motion for me!'
James rubbed his fingers over his temples in circular motions. He exhaled slowly, counting to ten. 'Fine,' he muttered. 'Be a stubborn ass. See if I care. Mum and Dad did you a favor and you're too damn blind to see it. Everyone else sees it but you.'
'That's not true!' Al insisted. 'The English team thinks I can do it.'
James fixed his eyes at a spot on the floor. 'The English team isn't even listening to its own scouts. You heard what Izzy said when she told you they were looking for you. You're not ready for it physically, Albus, and you know it. Deep down, you know it. Have you seen the size of the Beaters on the German team? They're huge! One good shove and you'll be hanging from your broom handle,' James scoffed. 'Bloody hell, Albus, try to be reasonable about this!'
Al lunged from the bench, slamming the door of his locker shut. The sound ricocheted off the walls. 'You don't have any right to tell me to be reasonable,' he sneered. 'You protest every time Mum or Dad punishes you like you're a child in nappies.' He grabbed his cloak. 'And that's what this is... A punishment.' Al threw the cloak over his shoulders and stalked out of the changing room into the pouring rain.
The door closed with an ominous thud. James buried his face in his hands. 'I have a bad feeling about this,' he said to the empty room. Heavily, he lurched to his feet and picked up his own cloak in nerveless fingers and trudged into the dark night.
Lily squinted at the book in front of her. The tiny print swam and blurred and her eyes watered. She rubbed her eyes and blinked several times, widening her eyes almost comically. She peered at the text and leaned closer to the book, her nose nearly touching the page. 'This is useless,' she whispered.
Hugo had been watching Lily's performance with her text book in amusement. He almost wished he had a bowl of popcorn, but when Lily looked up, his amusement quickly vanished. 'Are you all right?'
'No,' she replied, a small line between her eyebrows. 'My head hurts...'
'Want to go see Madam Pomfrey?'
'No!' Lily said, horrified. 'She'll make me take some awful sort of potion that tastes like the bottom of someone's shoe.'
'How do you know what the bottom of someone's shoe tastes like?' Hugo asked curiously.
'I don't. Fred and Jacob tried to get me to lick one of theirs, but Aunt Katie suddenly sprang up out of nowhere, and flicked them both on the ears. Hard.'
Hugo leaned closer to Lily. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot. 'You don't look very well.'
'I'm all right,' Lily said firmly. 'Just haven't been able to see very well lately. Just tired, I imagine.'
'How long?'
'Since September or October, I guess,' Lily admitted.
'Why didn't you say anything?' Hugo demanded.
Lily shrugged diffidently. 'Didn't think it was anything,' she muttered.
Hugo grunted. 'And in all the excitement of starting Hogwarts, you just sort of forgot to mention it?'
'I could read the books,' Lily countered. 'And I sit in the front of the room anyway, because I can't see over other peoples' heads, so I can see the board,' she argued.
Hugo shook his head sadly. 'Should have said something to Aunt Ginny or Uncle Harry over Easter hols, then you could at least have picked out something somewhat flattering' he tutted. 'I've heard the specs Madam Pomfrey has make everyone look rather like an owl.'
'You're supposed to make me feel better,' Lily said, only a little peevishly. Her head really did hurt.
Hugo smothered a grin. Lily was a notoriously bad patient -- at turns fractious and pitiful -- and sure to grate on people's nerves. 'We've got the period after potions free tomorrow,' he told her. 'I'll go to the hospital wing with you,' he offered.
Lily rubbed her eyes wearily. 'Fine...'
The portrait hole opened and Isabella, Madeline, Fred, Jacob, and Rose filed in, soaked to their skins, leaving puddles of water in their wakes, as they stumbled up the stairs to their respective dormitories. None of them looked very happy. Hugo absently chewed the end of his quill as he watched his sister yank the sopping cloak off her shoulders, and sweep back the hair that stuck to her cheeks. A few minutes later, Al stalked inside the common room, resembling the storm that raged outside the castle. Hugo bent back to his notes, one eye on the portrait hole, but James never appeared. 'Something's not right,' he murmured.
'What?' Lily looked at him, slightly distracted.
'Team's always come back from practice together.'
'Maybe James had to go to the library,' Lily said offhandedly.
'Did you see how wet the others were?' Hugo asked. 'They were dripping all over the floor. They'll have to change before they go anywhere else.'
Lily glanced at the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. She leaned across the table. 'Mum and Dad won't give Al permission to play with England this summer,' she confided. 'He's been in a strop since.'
'Explains a lot,' Hugo mused. He had noticed Al had been a bit distant with everybody since they had returned to school. He surmised it was starting to affect the Gryffindor Quidditch team's cohesiveness. The last game was just two weeks away, with the Quidditch Cup on the line. Gryffindor had to defeat Ravenclaw by no fewer than two hundred and thirty points.
Lily nodded. 'Yeah. It was a little tense around the house before we came back.' She closed her book with a pained sigh. 'I'm going to bed.'
'Night, Lily...' Hugo closed his own book and watched the flames in the fireplace. There had to be more to the story than what Lily had told him. A fissure that deep had to come from somewhere. Hugo didn't put much stock in clairvoyance, but even he knew he didn't need the Sight in order to see the current situation did not bode well.
James shivered violently, chilled to the bone. His anger had dissipated on the long walk back to the castle, dissolved on the rivulets of water that plastered his hair to his skull, and drenched his cloak and clothes. The cloak landed on the floor of the empty classroom with a miserable splat. Maya looked up from her textbook, where she had been memorizing dates for a History of Magic exam in the morning. She glanced at her watch with a slight frown. 'I didn't think Isabella kept you so late at practices.'
'She doesn't,' James said shortly. 'We ended it more than an hour ago.'
Maya gave James an inquiring glance. 'Decide to take a swim, did you?'
'T-t-t-took a w-w-w-walk,' James said, his teeth beginning to chatter with cold.
Maya shook her head, and pointed her wand at him. She waved it at James, and a cloud of steam rose from his clothes, momentarily obscuring his vision. She waved it at him again, and his clothes began to warm until he grew comfortably warm. 'You took a walk in this weather?'
James shrugged. 'So?'
Maya's dark eyes slid to the window. The rain came down in sheets, wind howling, swirling around the window. 'It's just a bit damp out, isn't it?'
'I just needed to clear my head, yeah?'
The corner of Maya's mouth turned up a little. 'I ate an entire pound of licorice wands second year after I nearly failed a Herbology exam. No judgments here.' Her face grew thoughtful. 'I was also sick and spent a good portion of the rest of the evening huddled on my bed afraid to move, lest I be sick all over my pillow.'
'Are you suggesting I'll come down with a cold?' James asked archly.
'I'm just saying to watch yourself,' Maya snorted, returning to her studies.
James flung himself into the seat next to Maya. 'He's going to make us all mad before too long,' he grumbled.
'Albus?'
James merely gifted Maya with a look. 'You think he's going to come round?' he grunted.
Maya shrugged. Despite growing up around the players from the team in Falmouth that frequented her parents' pub, it hardly gave her insights into the psyche of a professional player. She had seen a couple of players that had been put on the competitive squad straight out of school as young, promising players that had subsequently never lived up to the hype. They then bounced from team to team for years before deciding to pack it in. 'Perhaps it might be good for him to practice with the team,' she said shrewdly. 'Give him a taste of what it's like.'
'Maybe,' James sighed. 'But I don't think Mum and Dad would think so.'
'Look at it this way,' Maya said. 'What is it you want to do more than anything?'
'Run the Hogsmeade shop,' James said promptly.
'Really?' Maya examined James skeptically. 'You want to work for your uncles?'
'With them,' James corrected. 'Dad's part-owner of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. One day I'm going to be able to buy out his share,' he said wistfully.
'He could just give it to you.'
James stared at Maya. 'Have you met my dad?'
'Yes...'
James' head shook slowly from side to side. 'Nobody in my family gets anything just because of our last name, or because of who my dad is. We earn it. Believe me, if I let my Quidditch game slip, Izzy's liable to chuck me out of the team in favor of someone who can play Chaser better, regardless of their familial connections.' He pulled his school bag toward him. He'd left it with Maya before he went to practice. James rummaged for his Charms textbook and added, 'That goes double for Albus, Lily, and me. I think Dad sees the English team's interest in Albus as a gimmick, because he's Harry Potter's son. And he'd like for us all to avoid the limelight if possible.' James shuddered a little, as some of his father's memories played through his head. 'I can't say I blame him...'
'What about your cousins?' Maya persisted. 'Fred, Jacob, Sophie, Rose, or Hugo? What if they want the shop as well?'
James began to chuckle, then it grew into outright guffaws of humor. 'Blimey. Well, Fred and Jacob are keen for the shop, too, and they can take over the Diagon Alley premises. I don't think Sophie's going to join them. Needs to maintain her sanity, yeah? I think she'd like to teach Charms here, but Flitwick's bloody immortal it seems. And even if he does retire soon, I highly doubt they'd hire her on as a teacher when she finishes school. Soph'd be too young. Rose only has eyes for Quidditch. The Cannons to be exact --'
'The Cannons?' Maya interrupted. 'But they're awful, and Rose is well... not...'
'They're not that bad,' James said, only slightly defensively on Rose's behalf. 'They just don't get very good Keepers. Their current Seeker isn't so bad...' He licked the point of his Self-Inking Quill and underlined a selection of text in his book describing the wand motions for a particular spell. 'Hugo...' James let his voice trail off uncertainly. Hugo was something of an enigma to his cousins. Dreadfully bright, to be sure, a little bit lax when it came to doing his homework, but nowhere near as bad as Ron had been -- at least not according to what both Ron and Hermione said. Hugo was a fairly decent Quidditch player. After all, how could he not be? He was a Weasley. For Hugo, Quidditch wasn't a passion, merely a diverting pastime. He could play chess blindfolded and carry on a conversation with someone else at the same time. And every so often, he said something so profound; it took the others several minutes, hours, or even days to pick apart what he said. 'I don't think Hugo's meant for the shop,' James said firmly. He shook himself a little. 'I don't want to talk about them anymore, eh? And Albus least of all.'
Maya tilted her chair back on its back legs, studying James. 'Jealous?' she shot at him, quietly, unerringly finding her mark.
'No,' James said scornfully. But he was -- just a little. However, the memory of seeing what his father had to endure as the center of a maelstrom of public attention effectively quashed any feelings of envy he might have had toward Al.
'Mmm-hmmm.' Maya pinned James with her direct gaze.
'I'm not,' James muttered. He shut his Charms book and pulled out his Potions book. 'Professor Williams said he was giving a test tomorrow, and I need help sorting out which potions ingredients react with each other.'
Maya unearthed her own textbook and wisely left the subject of Albus Potter alone.
Daphne hummed lightly as she scanned the towering bookcases, the tune evolving into something more dramatic as her fingers grasped then pulled a volume from the recesses of the shelf. She curled into her favorite chair, and opened the book, sparing a glance for the figure hovering in the doorway. 'You need to find a new hobby,' she commented.
'I have a hobby,' Draco objected mildly.
Daphne emitted a rather unladylike snort. 'Lurking in doorways and scrutinizing people isn't a hobby, Draco, no matter what you want to believe.' She waved an absentminded hand at the rows and columns of books. 'Read something...'
Draco hesitatingly stepped into the room, and browsed the side of the bookcases that held "his" books. They were all books about magical theory, potions, charms, magical history. Scholarly tomes that were rigidly "correct" in their adherence to a proper magical education. What passed for fiction and literature, Draco felt was unimaginative, but he was also bored with the choices his books offered him. He stole a look at the hodgepodge that made up Daphne's books. Muggle literature and poetry was jammed next to works of wizarding literature and more didactic works.
Daphne chuckled softly and rose from her chair. She strolled down the length of a shelf her fingers trailing over the titles of the books until she came to a certain book. She pried it from its location and handed it to Draco. 'Try that one.'
Draco held the book limply in his fingers. 'Why do you read Muggle books?'
'They're diverting,' Daphne told him. 'Although their ideas about wizarding life are rather entertaining for what they get wrong, it's quite inventive.' She gestured to the book Draco ignored. 'Like that one, for instance. What he says about vampires...' She laughed gaily. She smiled at Draco gently. 'It's quite all right if you don't like it.'
'What are you reading?' Draco demanded. Daphne returned to her chair and wordlessly handed Draco the much-read volume. He frowned at the title and thumbed the cover open. 'It's in Italian,' he stated flatly.
'Yes.'
'You can read Italian?'
'I can read Italian.'
Draco's eyes narrowed. 'How many languages can you read?'
Daphne's cheeks colored rosily. 'English, obviously.'
'Oh, obviously,' Draco echoed faintly.
'I'm fluent in French and Italian, and I can read Latin.'
Draco blinked. 'Four languages?' he said hoarsely. 'I... I didn't...' He coughed. 'Why?'
Daphne set the book down on the arm of the chair. 'Well, French, because it's what properly brought-up young women were supposed to know. Or at least that's what my parents believed. And Italian, because... Well, because it was something I wanted to learn, and not something I was being forced to learn. Latin, because so many spell incantations are rooted in Latin, and I harbored a wishful fantasy of becoming an Unspeakable.'
'A what?' Draco nearly yelped.
'Unspeakables do lots of things,' Daphne said archly. 'I wanted to research the origins of spells and develop new ones. It required a working knowledge of at least three languages other than English.'
Draco stared at Daphne as if he'd never seen her before. Perhaps he hadn't. 'Who are you?' he murmured.
'Nobody special,' Daphne said cheerfully, albeit with a tinge of bitterness underneath.
'Yes, you are.' Draco took the chair next to Daphne's. 'Can you translate while you read?'
'Yes...'
'Could you read it to me...?' Draco asked tentatively.
'I... I suppose...' Nervously, Daphne opened the book and cleared her throat. 'Nel mezzo del cammin di nostre vita/mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,/ché la diritta via era smaritta. When I had journeyed half our life's way,/I found myself within a shadowed forest,/for I had lost the path that does not stray.'
Draco's eyes closed blissfully, lost in the rolling cadence of the medieval Italian, punctuated by the more staccato English translation, all said in Daphne's husky alto voice. Later, he wasn't able recall what she'd said, but it was one of the most enjoyable hours of his marriage. And that included the hours they spent exploring the carnal side of their relationship. He briefly wondered if this was how others felt -- others who did marry for love -- and then caught up in pleasure of his wife's company, wondered no more.
Harry sprawled on the sofa, fingers toying with the ends of Ginny's hair, listening to the sounds of the children unpacking. Gryffindor had managed to win the Quidditch Cup once more, but there didn't seem to be any joy in it when the boys recounted the game for them at dinner that evening. James and Al barely spoke to one another, aside from muttered grunts to pass the salt or the runner beans at dinner. Neither he, nor Ginny could recall either of them writing about a disagreement or a fight in their letters home. Less worrisome was Lily's vision. That was easily remedied by a trip to St. Mungo's where Lily could have a comprehensive examination and pick glasses that fit her a bit more that the round ones she wore.
Ginny's fingers drummed restlessly on his knee. 'Something doesn't feel right,' she murmured.
'The boys?' Harry replied.
Ginny nodded. 'They've had their problems before,' she said uneasily, 'but nothing like this...' She shifted to face Harry. 'Should we...?'
'Interfere?' Harry sighed. 'I don't know. We've generally let them work things out before.' Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Or at least waited until life and limb were in danger.
Ginny nodded. 'True... We should at least talk to them, though.'
'I'll talk to James,' Harry said quickly. 'Al's convinced I'm just here to stomp all over his dreams.'
'In the morning,' Ginny yawned. 'It can wait until then. Be better after we've all gotten some sleep.'
The mobile rang shrilly from the office. Harry pushed himself to his feet and lunged for the desk drawer, scrabbling for the mobile. He spared a glance for the number displayed on the screen before he answered. 'Hiya, Dudley. Listen, I was going to ring tomorrow and see if you, Aaron and Sarah would like to --'
'It's not Dudley. It's Aaron.' Aaron's normally calm voice trembled with fear, bordering on panic. 'You need to come to London. Now.'
A/N: The quote Daphne reads is from Dante's Inferno, translated by Allen Mandelbaum, published by Bantam Books, 1980
SEVENTY FIVE -- Tangled Webs We Weave
Ginny watched the color drain from Harry's face until the old, faded scar blazed briefly through his fringe. 'Right. We'll be right there.' Harry paused. 'Just tell me the nearest Tube station...' Harry spun in his heel and stalked into the office. Ginny followed him, concerned. She didn't like the way he looked, as if his knees would give out on him at any second. Harry scribbled something on a scrap of parchment. 'Yeah... D'you need anything, then?' His hand rose and pulled off his glasses, then rubbed over his face. 'All right, then. Ought to be there in around half an hour. And Aaron...? It'll be okay...'
Harry's hand shook as he put the mobile down on the desk. Ginny slipped into the room and closed the door. 'What is it?'
'Dudley,' Harry replied tersely. 'In Whipps Cross University Hospital. Aaron says... He says it's pretty bad...'
Ginny felt her heart begin to race. 'What happened?'
Harry shook his head. 'He didn't say. He's just asked us to come...' He shoved his glasses on his nose, and then carefully placed both hands flat on his desk, leaning heavily on it. 'Can you collect the children?' he asked in a low voice. 'I need a moment...'
Ginny gently massaged the back of his neck. 'Take all the time you need.' She rose on her toes to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Harry turned suddenly and wrapped his arms around Ginny.
'I'm scared,' he admitted, burying his face in her hair.
'It's all right.' Ginny stood for a moment, gently rocking Harry back and forth before he pulled away and nodded. Ginny cupped his face in one soft hand before she left the office, and ran up the stairs. 'James, Lily, Al... put your shoes on and grab a jumper or something. Hurry,' she urged.
'Why?' Al appeared in the gap of his partially-open bedroom door. His eyes flashed with a hint of belligerence.
'Just do it,' Ginny told him severely.
'Yes, Mum,' James said quickly, darting into his bedroom, after giving Al a look of mingled disgust and disbelief. He grabbed his trainers and reached for the sweatshirt that wasn't emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest or the Tutshill emblem, and met Ginny at the top of the stairs. 'Where are we going?' he asked, dropping to the top stair, so he could pull his shoes on his feet.
'London,' Ginny said shortly.
James frowned as he tightened the laces. There weren't many reasons to go to London at this time of day except... 'St. Mungo's?' he asked.
'Never you mind,' Ginny said absently. 'Just hurry.'
James rose to his full height, topping his mother by more than a head. 'Mum...' He let a note of dread creep into his voice.
'It's not St. Mungo's,' Ginny relented.
Lily emerged from her bedroom, pulling a fluffy cardigan over her arms. 'Where are we going?'
James nudged her down the stairs. 'London. It's not Grandmum or Granddad,' he said reassuringly, his voice fading as he chivvied her down the staircase.
Ginny moved to Al's bedroom, and knocked lightly on the door frame. 'Ready?'
'Do I have to go?' Al asked, inwardly wincing at how much it sounded like whining.
'Yes. You do,' Ginny snapped. She strode into the bedroom, and firmly closed the door, with a wave of her wand. 'Drop the attitude,' she ordered. 'I know you're still disappointed that your father and I didn't give you permission to play with England this summer, but sulking like a toddler and whinging about it aren't going to help, nor will it change our minds. And right now, you need to get yourself down the stairs and to the fireplace,' she informed him, glaring daggers at her son until he yanked on a pair of battered trainers.
'Whatever...' Al muttered, jerking the laces of his trainers into a tight bow.
Ginny's stern expression softened slightly. 'We'll talk about England later,' she promised. 'There's always next year, you know, or the year after--'
'Wait until I'm older, is that it?' Al scoffed. 'When do I get to be older, Mum?' he shot, as he shuffled resentfully from the room.
Ginny inhaled slowly and exhaled noisily before she joined the rest of the family in the sitting room. Harry dribbled a handful of Floo powder into James' hand. 'Leaky Cauldron,' he murmured, dipping his hand into the flower pot containing their supply of Floo powder, the opened his fist over Lily's open palm. They two of them disappeared one after the other into the swirling green flames, James first, then Lily. Al reached past Harry, rudely shouldering him aside, as he grabbed a handful of glittering powder. Harry's jaw tightened at his son's lapse of manners, but he stood to the side for Al to throw the Floo powder into the fireplace. The back of Ginny's hand brushed against his in silent commiseration, then she, too, vanished in the emerald-hued flames. Harry took a deep breath, and threw his own handful of powder into the fireplace, a corner of his mind praying everything was going to be as he had promised Aaron.
When Ginny stepped from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, Al and James were in the midst of a furious, whispered argument, noses nearly touching. Crossly, Ginny grabbed each of them by a sleeve, pulling them apart. 'Not. Now,' she warned through clenched teeth. Trying keep Harry's emotional equilibrium balanced tonight was going to be all she was able to handle. Refereeing a fight between the boys was not going to be on her list of things to do that night. 'If either of you so much as look at the other one cross-eyed, you're going to wish you had detention with McGonagall,' she hissed, as Harry stumbled through the fireplace. James pulled his arm from Ginny's grasp and trudged to stand by Lily, who had been watching the argument, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Harry sighed wearily. I'll deal with it later, he told himself, and jerked his head toward the door. 'Come on.' He led them out into the street. 'It's by the Leytonstone station,' he told Ginny. 'Whipps Cross Road.'
'Got it.'
Harry eyed James for a moment. 'Can you stay here for a bit? We'll take Al and Lily, and one of us will come back for you.'
James nodded. 'Yeah. I'll wait inside,' he added.
'Brilliant,' Harry muttered, taking Lily's hand. 'Back in a mo.' He tried to smile reassuringly at Lily, but he only succeeded in baring his teeth in a grimace. He turned and Disapparated with an unusually loud pop, with Ginny following, Al in tow, with a much softer pop. James retreated into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, gnawing a hangnail on his middle finger. He mentally ran through the list of people his father knew that would find themselves in a Muggle hospital. The only person he could possibly think of was his father's cousin, but James hadn't thought they were that close. He shrugged, and propped his chin in an upturned hand to wait for either Ginny or Harry to return and Side-Along him to the hospital. He heaved a sigh, knowing in just over a year's time, he could take the test and earn his own Apparition license, and not have to be towed about like a child.
Harry's head poked through the door. 'James?'
James jumped up from the chair, and met Harry at the door. 'I'm ready.'
Harry held out his arm. 'You don't have to hold my hand...' He paused to look at James. 'What were you and Al arguing about?'
'Nothing,' James mumbled. Harry studied him, narrow-eyed, but made a motion with his elbow, indicating for James to take it. 'He's never wanted anything this badly before,' James said, as he grabbed Harry's wrist. 'He thinks you and Mum -- you especially -- are trying to... Blimey, what's the word he used...? Infantilize? Yeah, infantilize him. As far as he's concerned, neither of you want him to play right now, because you can't see him as anything but a baby.'
Harry's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, before he choked, 'I see...'
'Thought someone should tell you why he's banging around like a wounded hippogriff,' James said, suddenly interested in the toes of his shoes. Harry grunted in reply before he Disapparated.
It seemed like a maze of unfamiliar names and corridors, where nothing seemed to be arranged according to any sort of rhyme or reason. 'Where did the sister say we needed to go?' Harry muttered.
'Red zone?' Ginny replied, gazing around them, perplexed.
'That way,' Lily piped up, pointing toward a bright red arrow on the wall.
'Accident and Emergency,' James added.
Harry turned to his left and led his family down a seemingly endless corridor until he came to a chair-lined alcove, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and worry. Aaron sat ramrod straight in a chair, hands clenched into fists, resting on his knees, while Sarah slept in seeming serenity in a travel carrycot at his feet. Aaron glanced up at the sound of their footfalls and a shudder ran through him. 'I'm sorry...' he breathed. 'I didn't know who else to ring,' he began to babble. 'It's not that we don't have friends I could have called, but I just...'
'No worries, all right?' Harry said, as he took the chair next to Aaron. 'Do you know anything?'
Aaron shook his head. 'No...' He slumped a little and unclenched his fists, rubbing his palms over his denim-covered knees. 'He left after dinner to run, like he does every night. I keep telling him he ought to just pack it in and get a nice treadmill, but oh, no... he likes to be outdoors. He's usually only gone for half an hour, perhaps. Sometimes a bit longer if he's worried about something. He hadn't come home after an hour, so I put Sarah to bed, and started calling his mobile. He carries it with him while he's running. Especially since we had Sarah... He wouldn't answer...'
'Had you argued about something?' Ginny asked hesitatingly.
'No. It was a normal night... And then after a couple of hours, someone knocks on the door of the flat, and it's a police officer. S-s-s-s-someone found Dudley. He'd been stabbed.'
'With a knife?' Lily blurted incredulously.
'Of course with a knife, gumby,' Al muttered. 'How else does one get stabbed?'
'That's actually what I said,' Aaron told Lily. 'They'd brought him here. I've been told he lost a great deal of blood, and they weren't certain if there was any internal damage. But it's been ages since someone's come to tell me anything. I can't quite make up my mind if that's good or bad.' He ran a shaking hand through his thick, dark hair. 'And someone ought to ring his parents.' His expression hardened briefly. 'I can't do it. The state I'm in, I might say something I'll regret...'
Harry and Ginny exchanged uneasy glances. They didn't quite trust themselves to stay neutral with Vernon or Petunia, either. Harry shrugged and pulled his mobile from his jacket pocket. 'I'll do it,' he sighed. 'They're technically my family, as well...'
'Do you need their telephone number?' Aaron asked. 'It's 01737---'
'892419,' Harry finished, surprising himself. He hadn't thought he remembered it at all, but he supposed it was ingrained in his memory, like their address, down to the postal code, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. 'I'll just be a moment.'
He moved quickly to the end of the corridor, and held the mobile loosely in his palm for a moment. What would he say? He hadn't had anything resembling conversation with either of them since he was fifteen or sixteen years old. Blurting out the situation wouldn't quite do. Harry blew out a slow breath and swiftly dialed the number before he could give himself time to think.
The Dursleys' phone rang several times before someone answered. 'Hello?' It was Petunia, her voice muffled and sharp with hostility. Harry felt his mouth go dry. 'Well? Have you something to say, or have you merely called with a prank?' she demanded. 'The nerve of some people ringing at this time of night,' Petunia could be heard muttering under her breath.
'It's me,' Harry began. 'Harry.'
'What sort of nonsense is this? You woke Vernon!'
'Believe me, this isn't on top of my list of things to do tonight,' Harry snapped. 'I'm just calling because someone needs to tell you. Dudley's been hurt and they're not certain what the outcome will be.' Harry held his breath, waiting for the expected shriek from his aunt, but silence spooled between them. 'He's at Whipps Cross,' he added. Still, no reply from Petunia. Exasperated, he hissed, 'This is Dudley! Your son, in case you've forgot. He could die and you're just going to sit there like a lump, more concerned that the telephone woke Vernon.' Harry's hand tightened around the mobile. 'He has a family, you know. A husband and they have a daughter. She's a year old, and I'll bet you've barely laid eyes on her. Do you want one more thing to regret, Petunia? Or wasn't my mother enough for you?' Harry's eyes closed. He could hear ragged breathing through the mobile. 'Whipps Cross,' he repeated. 'Accident and Emergency.' With that, he disconnected the call and returned to the waiting room.
Ginny's head slowly followed Harry's restless pacing as if she were a spectator in a tennis match and it was one of those impossibly long rallies that only ended when one of the players did something spectacular to end it. Lily had fallen asleep on the hard institutional sofa, her head pillowed on Ginny's lap. Al had pulled his knees into his chest, and rested his forehead on them, arms wrapped around his legs. Ginny wasn't certain, but she thought he might be dozing a little. She couldn't manage to see if his eyes were closed. James had sprawled on the edge of his chair, his feet splayed in front of him, head resting on the back of the chair. He fought slumber, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. They slowly closed, then snapped open. Occasionally he yawned widely, belatedly covering his mouth with a heavy hand. Ginny idly combed her fingers through Lily's unbound hair. Aaron slumped in his chair, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. It was a gesture Ginny knew quite well. She had done it often enough herself.
She looked up at Harry, who was on the verge of heaving yet another impatient sigh. 'Harry?' she called softly. His head turned to look at her as he continued to pace. 'There's a vending area somewhere around here... I think perhaps we could use some tea?' She nodded toward their sleeping daughter. 'I'd go, but...'
Harry crammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 'All right...' He turned on a heel and trudged down the corridor.
Aaron exhaled slowly. 'Thank you,' he murmured to Ginny. 'I was about to go mad from watching him pace like that.'
'Harry doesn't take well to inaction,' Ginny said wryly. 'Never has. He handles things better when he's got something to do.'
'Even fetching awful vending machine tea?'
'Better than doing nothing, no?' Ginny retorted.
'I suppose.' Aaron stopped worrying his wedding ring and tugged it off his finger. It caught on the knuckle then slid off. He tilted it a little, looking inside. The inscription was simple, just their initials and the date of their wedding. He rarely took it off. 'You said last November you'd spent most of your life living like this,' he ventured awkwardly.
'Mmm-hmm.' Ginny's fingers continued their long strokes through Lily's hair.
'How?'
'How... what?'
'How do you do this?'
Ginny smiled crookedly. 'My family usually comes to sit with me.'
'Do you think they'll come? Dudley's parents?'
Ginny's lips pressed together. 'I don't know. But I'm not really an expert in Harry's relations. I've only met Dudley's parents twice.' She gently lifted Lily's glasses from her nose and carefully folded the earpieces down, setting them on a small table between her and Aaron. 'Suffice to say neither time went very well.'
'We see you and Harry more than we see Dudley's parents, and they're closer...' Aaron leaned forward to tuck the blanket more securely around Sarah. His hand smoothed over her dark, tumbled curls. He looked around the waiting area at James, Al, and Lily. 'I am sorry,' he said softly. 'It's not that we don't have friends that would do come sit with me,' he said slightly defensively, feeling as if he owed Ginny an explanation for dragging them out to London from Somerset on the very night the children returned home from school. Dudley had written it on their kitchen calendar. Aaron could see it, written in bright blue ink -- J, A, L home. 'But I just...' Aaron bit his lip. 'I haven't got any other family nearby. I've called my parents, but it'll take them a while to fly up from Adelaide. I do have an older brother. Daniel. But he hasn't spoken to me since... Well, since he discovered me snogging Jack Baines on the sitting room sofa when I was sixteen...' Aaron tugged at his collar, flushing dully. 'Daniel is much more religious than either my parents or I. Even as far back as then. He declared I was dead to him. He lives in Hendon now.'
Ginny reached out and laid a hand on Aaron's arm. 'It's all right. We'd be upset if you hadn't called.'
Harry appeared, carefully carrying three paper cups of tea. 'I tried it,' he told them, indicating the cup with a noticeable amount missing. 'It looks like tea,' he quipped lightly, setting the cups on the table between Ginny and Aaron. 'And that's the only thing going for it.'
Ginny picked up one of the untouched cups, tentatively sampling the liquid inside. 'Well, it's hot,' she said dubiously. She raised the cup to her lips, intending to take another sip, but her hand stilled with a scant inch to spare between the rim of the cup and her mouth. Ginny's eyes went wide and she nearly dropped the cup. She barely missed sloshing tea all over Lily's head.
'Gin?' Harry peered at her in concern. Ginny was normally quite steady in such situations.
'It's... Petunia,' she whispered hoarsely.
Aaron's head snapped around. He rose unsteadily to his feet. 'Mrs. Dursley,' he murmured, inclining his head gracefully in greeting.
Petunia ignored him. She addressed Harry directly. 'Well?'
'I don't know. Why don't you ask Aaron?' Harry said coldly.
Petunia's lips pursed and she visibly swallowed before turning to Aaron. He bent over the carrycot and lifted Sarah into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Petunia gave a stiff sniff of disapproval and Harry and Ginny both rolled their eyes. Petunia's mouth opened as if it pained her. 'Have they said anything?' She clearly didn't see Aaron as family.
'Not since I got here,' Aaron said wearily, nuzzling the top of Sarah's head. 'They said it might take several hours to try and repair the damage.'
Petunia nodded once and tried to find something to look at, but she was surrounded by the embodiment of magic. 'You can have my chair,' James announced, pushing himself to his feet. He ambled to stand next to Harry. 'Can you tell me where you got that tea?'
'Yeah, I'll... I'll show you...' Harry quickly strode off, with James in tow.
Ginny huffed quietly. 'Coward,' she mouthed, and Aaron smothered a grin. He didn't blame Harry for escaping.
Petunia perched on the edge of James' abandoned chair, with her handbag set just so across her knees. Her eyes constantly flicked toward Aaron and Sarah with ill-disguised curiosity. Aaron turned to Ginny. 'Sarah's cut another tooth,' he told her, smiling a little. 'And I could tell you what she calls Sebastian, our cat, but it sounds rather vulgar. Can't let Dudley put her to bed, because he's such a bloody marshmallow, that if she so much as whimpers, he's up in that rocking chair with her until she falls asleep. He's deathly afraid of spoiling her, though. She started walking last week.'
'Been crawling since Christmas, right?' Ginny asked.
'Yeah. I was more worried than Dudley was about Sarah not walking. She was holding on to the armchair and just let go. Toddled a few steps before she plopped on her bottom.' Aaron rubbed Sarah's back through her fluffy yellow sleepsuit. He cut his eyes toward Petunia. She had given up all pretense of disinterest and was leaning slightly in his direction, avidly listening. He winked at Ginny. 'I have a photograph of her sitting in the garden and she's clutching this flower frowning at it like she'd never seen one before. I'll send you a copy,' he promised.
Ginny sipped her tea, glancing at Petunia. 'Thank you. It sounds lovely.' Petunia's fingers gripped the handle of her handbag tightly and her lips pressed together in a white line.
Harry and James returned, each cradling white paper cups in their hands, steam curling around their noses. The surgeon was close on their heels, looking slightly wan, but Ginny couldn't detect any tension in his expression that would have betrayed bad news. Aaron paled at the sight of them, and he set Sarah back into the carrycot with exaggerated care as the surgeon approached them. 'He's stable for now. But he's still quite fragile. We're going to move him into the Intensive Care Unit soon. You won't be able to see him until four this afternoon.' The surgeon studied Aaron, beginning to droop with a combination of relief and exhaustion. 'You should probably go home and get some rest. If anything changes, we'll call you.' He left them alone and Petunia stood.
'I'll just be going...' She walked out without a backward look.
Ginny gently shook Lily awake. Lily blearily looked around for her glasses, poking them haphazardly on her face. 'Are we goin' home?' she mumbled sleepily.
'Yes...' Ginny patted Aaron on the shoulder. 'Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but perhaps we could take Sarah home with us and you could go home and have a nice sleep without worrying about her? We could meet you here later this afternoon,' she suggested.
'You don't mind?'
'No.' It was Harry that spoke. 'We don't.'
Aaron sniffed heavily and nodded. 'Thank you.'
Aaron met Harry in the waiting area. 'He wants to talk to you.'
'About what?' Harry asked, only a little perplexed.
'Won't tell me. Thinks I'll get spooked or something.' Aaron shrugged. He took Sarah from Harry's arms. 'Hallo, darling,' he cooed. 'Did Auntie Ginny spoil and indulge you?'
'Of course I, erm, she did,' Harry coughed. He escaped with Aaron's deep chuckle following him. He navigated the procedures to gain access to the ICU, thinking it was far easier to gain access to the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's. He approached the bed containing Dudley, bandaged, with tubes in his arms, and wires protruding from the neck of hospital gown. 'You look like hell,' Harry said conversationally, pulling up the hard chair next to the bed.
'No worse than you did last summer,' Dudley rasped.
'Touché,' Harry murmured. 'How do you feel?'
'Like a dartboard.' Dudley licked his dry lips. 'Need to tell you something,' he said so softly, Harry had to strain to hear him over the sounds of the monitors. 'It was one of yours...'
'One of mine?' Harry shook his head. 'No...' It can't be one of my Aurors... It's not... he thought stubbornly.
'One of yours,' Dudley breathed insistently. 'Magic,' he mouthed. 'And they mentioned you... Before I lost consciousness...'
SEVENTY SIX -- Everything's Fine
Ginny massaged the back of her neck, trying to work out the kinks that had taken up residence there the past few days. She knocked softly on Al's bedroom door, then slipped inside. He was sitting up in bed, reading Victor Krum's autobiography yet again. 'It's getting late,' she told him.
'Summer hols, Mum,' Al said shortly.
'Turn out the light by midnight,' Ginny ordered. When Al didn't reply, she added sharply, 'I mean it, Albus.'
Al said nothing, his eyes narrowing slightly, increasing his resemblance to his father.
Ginny ran a hand through her hair a few times and perched on the edge of Al's bed. 'Listen, Al, it's not that your dad and I think you aren't capable of playing with England in a year or two, it's just that...'
'And what do you know?' Al snorted. 'You only played for, what? Five seasons? And then quit to have a baby?'
'That's not why I quit.'
'That's not what the writers say.'
'If anyone's in a position to say why I quit playing, that would be me -- the person who made the decision...' Ginny folded her hands together and studied Al. 'I've been around Quidditch longer than you've been alive,' she stated calmly. 'I know the game, on a professional level, as much as most scouts and players. I've played with excellent Seekers and horrible Seekers. You do have what it takes to be one of the best Seekers the game has ever seen. You just need some time to get more... mature.'
'What's that supposed to mean?' Al muttered, scowling.
'Tell me the difference between professional and school Snitches,' Ginny challenged him.
Al sat up, eyes glowing. 'That's easy, Mum. Professional-grade Snitches are faster, they can change directions on angles that school Snitches can't even begin to do. Sometimes, it's like trying to catch water, they're so quick.'
Ginny reared back a little, startled. He had just accurately described her experience with professional Snitches. 'That's about right,' she said faintly. 'But so are the players. You've just turned fourteen. The youngest player on the English squad is twenty-two. They're larger, more experienced...'
Al brandished Krum's book. 'But Krum started playing with Bulgaria when he was fifteen!'
Ginny sighed. 'True,' she admitted. 'He also has an entirely different build than you. And if you'll look at the photograph of his first year with Bulgaria, he's already the size he'd be during his first World Cup. But still, that's still a full year older than you are now. Why can't you wait another year...?'
'Because they want me now,' Al explained, with the barely disguised impatience teenagers often employed with their parents. 'They might not want me next year.'
'Believe me, Al, if they want you this badly now, they'll want you a year from now,' Ginny persisted. 'You needn't rush into things.'
'You don't think I can do it,' Al blurted.
'I just think you ought to wait a bit,' Ginny retorted.
Al threw the book on the night table and slide down into the bed. 'I'd like to go to sleep now,' he mumbled sullenly.
Ginny reached over and gently squeezed one of his knees. 'Al, darling...'
'Good night, Mum.'
Stung, Ginny slid off the bed, and jabbed her wand at the lamp next to his bed, then strode from the room, flicking her wand at the door. The door slammed behind her, and Ginny's shoulders jerked, as the sound reverberated through the corridor. 'I'm supposed to be the adult,' she muttered under her breath, as she barged into her bedroom. Harry peered at her shortsightedly, while he polished the lenses of his glasses on the hem of his t-shirt.
'Dare I ask?' He settled his glasses on his nose and looked at her expectantly.
'He's not going to listen to us,' Ginny said morosely. 'Either of us.'
'I could have told you that,' Harry smirked.
Ginny slumped into Harry's arms. 'What are we going to do with him?' She twisted so she could see him. 'Maybe we should let him practice with the English team,' she suggested. 'Just once, so he can see what we're talking about.'
Harry shook his head. 'We've already told him no. That might get his hopes up unnecessarily.'
'Then what do you suggest?' Ginny asked stiffly.
The silence spooled out between them. 'I don't know...' Harry finally admitted.
Harry strode off the lift and turned toward the Auror Department on Level Two. He looked straight ahead pausing at a cluster of cubicles long enough to bark,' Iain, Bree, Andre -- my office. Now.'
Baffled, the three Aurors shrugged, used to their Head's moods, and followed him to the Head Auror's office at the end of the corridor. Harry threw his bag down, the seams of the old leather messenger bag creaking as the contents shifted. 'I would like to know how a blatant case of Muggle baiting somehow escaped our notice?' he all but shouted.
Bree and Andre exchanged confused glances. 'What Muggle baiting?' Bree asked uncertainly.
'My cousin was attacked near his home on Saturday evening,' Harry said bitingly. 'And somehow we missed that.'
'That's because it wasn't a wizard,' Andre told him.
Harry blinked. 'What?'
Andre rubbed the back of his neck. 'I've had the trainees follow him the past few weeks. To work on their stealth and disguise skills. Your cousin doesn't run the same route every night, you see. And it's good for them to tail a moving target like that.' He coughed lightly. 'Stealing a leaf out of your book,' he informed Harry. 'And considering he's related to you, I thought it would be a good idea to have someone keep an eye on him from time to time, in case anyone sympathized with that Obliviator bloke we put away last winter.'
Indignation dissipated quickly, and Harry's body seemed to collapse on itself. 'But he... he told me yesterday it was someone magic... He said they mentioned me...'
Andre nodded. 'Yeah. Erm... They saw it. Someone had been following him for a few days. They mentioned it to me in their daily reports, and Jack even rang the police, but they told him nothing had happened -- no attempted assault or harassment -- so there wasn't anything they could do.'
'Unbelievable,' Harry muttered, massaging his temples. 'Not you. The police. Very helpful of them.'
'Dominic said the bloke jumped out at your cousin, and started slashing. Yelling that he was an abomination. Jack Stunned him, tied his wrists together, while Dom tried to do something about the wounds, but neither of them are very good with Healing spells. Dom said your cousin saw Jack hex the attacker. And then they argued about whether to call you after they'd called 999 to come take your cousin to a hospital.' Andre heaved a sigh. 'I imagine that's what he heard... And Jack and Dom didn't recognize the attacker from the magical community.'
'That's because Dom and Jack are practically infants and wouldn't know Lucius Malfoy if he came back from the dead and stood in front of them starkers doing the can-can...' Harry rubbed his temples. 'Why didn't you tell me you had the trainees following Dudley?'
'I did,' Andre stammered. 'Two days before we started...'
'You did?' Harry blurted. He vaguely remembered having a conversation with Andre, and murmuring assent to whatever it was he had said.
'Harry?' Bree ventured. 'When was the last time you had a nice holiday?'
'And going to America in March doesn't count, because that was work,' Iain stated.
'Insubordinate. The lot of you,' Harry muttered resentfully.
'You taught us,' Bree huffed. 'Learned from the expert.'
'So?' Iain asked archly. 'When what the last time you had a real holiday?'
'The only reason you can get away with this is because I've known you so bloody long, you know,' Harry groused. 'And it was four years ago. Before James started Hogwarts.'
Iain turned to his wife. 'I'd say he's overdue for one, don't you?'
'Hmmm.' Bree gazed at Harry thoughtfully. 'I do. Far overdue.'
'Gits,' Harry muttered.
'They're right,' Andre said. 'You do need a break.'
'Later,' Harry retorted. 'After we figure out who attacked my cousin.' He turned to Andre. 'Where is the attacker, exactly?'
'Police have him in custody,' Andre replied. 'I can find out exactly where before lunch.'
'Brilliant. Arrange a time for me to go in and question him.' Harry bent and grabbed the strap of his bag and swung it to his desk. 'As soon as possible. The sooner the better. This afternoon if you can. If not, first thing tomorrow morning.'
'Harry...' Bree hesitated. He was in a rare mood this morning and she didn't want to tilt the balance any further than necessary. 'It's not... You shouldn't...' She bit her lips and appealed wordlessly to Iain. He arched a thick brow in response, but heaved a sigh and plowed ahead.
'You can't,' he said bluntly. 'It's against protocol.'
Harry slapped a hand flat against the surface of his desk. 'Damn the bloody protocol!'
'But Harry, it's an enormous conflict of interest,' protested Bree.
'Would any of you be able to tell if the person in question was indeed magical?' Harry said pointedly.
Andre muffled a pungent curse. 'Most of the usual suspects,' he said defensively.
'And those who aren't the usual suspects?' Harry asked evenly. 'Would you know?'
'Fine,' Iain relented, albeit most reluctantly. 'But we -- and that means the senior Aurors who aren't the Head -- will run the investigation,' he countered.
Harry glared at him, eyes narrowed belligerently, lips pressed together in a thin line. 'Fine,' he relented.
Ginny set her bowl in the sink and gave each of her children a gimlet eye. 'No friends can come over, unless you've arranged it with either your father or me,' she said, gulping the last of her tea. 'James is in charge, and if any of you get hurt beyond the capabilities of essence of dittany, you're to firecall your grandmother. Understand?'
'Mum?' James ventured. 'I'm going to be sixteen in September. I think we'll be all right.'
Ginny nibbled a bothersome hangnail on her thumb and studied her oldest child. 'Very well. Just make sure you eat more than Every Flavor Beans and butterbeer for lunch, please.' She leaned closer to James, whispering in his ear. 'And for Merlin's sake, do not let Lily try to cook anything.'
James' face grew stricken. Lily had tried to make their lunch during the Easter holiday and it had not gone well. Even the neighbors' dog turned his nose up at it, and that dog ate nearly anything that landed in their garden. 'No, Mum,' he said hastily.
'Right, then,' Ginny said briskly, swinging her bag over her shoulder. 'Lily, you've got that class at the comprehensive school at two. Make sure you leave by one-thirty. Your dad ought to be home by four at the latest. I'll be home by six.' She quickly kissed James, Al, and Lily in turn. 'Bye...' She dashed out the door, pulling her wand from the pocket of her trousers, almost simultaneously turning as she did so, and Apparated to Holyhead.
She reappeared in the midst of a milling crowd outside the Harpies' stadium. In recent years, Gwenog had taken to introducing the team, from the actual squad itself to the reserves and down to the practice squad before starting pre-season training. It allowed the Harpies' fans a chance to meet their favorite player, for children to take a photograph with them, and later, there would be an exhibition match between the team and the reserves. 'I didn't expect to see you here,' exclaimed a gravelly voice behind Ginny. 'With you being the Quidditch editor and all.'
Ginny spun around, managing to smile at Gwenog. 'And as the editor, I get to decide to cover certain events, if I want.' She gestured around them at the sea of dark green and gold. 'And you can hardly expect me to stay away.'
Gwenog tilted Ginny's chin up a bit. She looked a bit wan and her smile didn't seem to reach her eyes. 'Something's bothering you.'
'It's nothing,' Ginny demurred.
'Hmmm.' Gwenog gave Ginny the same sort of look she had when Ginny had missed a particularly easy goal. 'You find me after the game. We'll talk.'
Draco hooked a finger into the curtain covering the window, and pulled it aside, looking out over Green Park. 'She said I needed a hobby.'
'Do you?' Andrew speared his patient with a look.
'I suppose I might.'
'What do you enjoy doing?'
'I don't know...'
Andrew scribbled a few things in his notebook. 'Is there anything you ever wanted to do? Music lessons, art? Sport, perhaps?'
Draco frowned, watching the ebb and flow of traffic in the street below. At length, he finally said, 'Daphne grows flowers and herbs. The conservatory and flowerbeds outside the house... They're beautiful and all hers. She can read four languages. I'm sure if there was a fifth one she wanted to learn, she'd do it...'
'She sounds like a remarkable woman.' Andrew suddenly grinned. 'You're falling in love with her.'
Draco's mouth snapped shut. 'I... Erm... That...' he stammered.
'Do you like her?'
'Yes.'
'Do you enjoy spending time with her?'
'Yes...'
'Can you see yourself with her in ten years? Fifteen? Twenty?' Andrew shot at him in a rapid-fire manner.
'I would like to,' Draco admitted. He hadn't realized how lonely his existence had been, even with Daphne in the house when he hadn't made an effort to try and get to know her.
'You don't have to do the same things she does, you know. It's perfectly acceptable for married couples to have different interests.' He retrieved his notebook and leaned back in his chair. 'Now then. We were speaking about you.'
'I want to...' Draco turned back to the curtain, fiddling with it. 'I, at one time, fancied myself quite the expert in potion-making...' he confessed. 'I toyed with the idea of...' He took a deep breath. 'Writing...' he said in a low voice.
'Writing what?'
'It's stupid...'
'What's stupid is if you don't try,' Andrew threw back at him.
'Book,' Draco murmured, directing the word at the window. 'But it's not going to happen...'
'Why not?'
Draco turned around to face the Healer. 'In case you've forgotten, I remain on probation. And will continue to remain so until the Ministry decides I'm no longer a threat. Considering they haven't changed their minds in the past twenty years, I see no reason for them to do it now.'
'You won't know until you try,' Andrew pointed out. 'Have you been banned from publishing?'
'I...' Draco's mind raced through the conditions of his probation, darting through the tiny lines of precise script. 'I'm not sure. But who would want to buy something I wrote?'
'Who said you had to publish it under "Draco Malfoy"?'
'Do you know how much I detest it when you answer my questions with a question?'
'A great deal, if you're anything like my other patients,' Andrew said with a smile. 'But if that's something you want to pursue, then it behooves you to at the very least make the attempt to find out if your probation will be an impediment.' He pointed his ballpoint pen at Draco. 'At some point, Draco, you're going to have to stop talking about things and start doing them.'
'I don't suppose you'd be so good as to tell me when that's supposed to happen?'
'Nope. That's something you're going to have to figure out.'
'Will there ever be a time where you just tell me how and when to do something?' Draco grumbled in exasperation.
'Would you listen?' Andrew asked dryly.
Draco's head tilted to the side as he considered the question. 'Probably not.'
Gwenog pushed a glass to Ginny across the small table tucked into a small corner of the pub. 'I hear England wants your youngest boy.'
'How did you find out?' Ginny asked.
'It's Quidditch,' Gwenog replied simply, as if it explained everything, and it did. Quidditch was a rather small community, so word -- if there was any at all -- tended to travel quickly. She sipped her own drink. 'They're idiots, if you ask me. He needs to fill out some so he can defend himself. He's liable get knocked off his broom as soon as they blow the whistle to start the game. Sad day when team captains stop listening to their own scouts.'
Ginny stared into her drink, swirling it slightly. 'They sent a letter to us in March, asking if he could try out for the team. Not as a reserve, but the actual Seeker. We told him no. For the same reasons you've just said.'
'And he's gone off into a sulk?' Gwenog guessed, all too familiar with the way particularly talented Quidditch players could behave.
'Something like that...'
'Have you thought about letting him practice with the team, just so he gets a taste of it?'
Ginny shook her head, brows drawing together. 'No. That's entirely out of the question.' She set her elbows on the table and leaned closer to Gwenog. 'Do you remember the mob of reporters that came to every game my first season?'
'Vividly.'
Ginny nodded shortly. 'Even with a mere practice, can you imagine the media circus that would be? First of all, there's his age. Second, there's the small matter of his parents,' she added deprecatingly. 'No,' she repeated. 'This has to be handled privately.'
'That is a problem,' Gwenog agreed. She tapped her fingers on the scarred surface of the table for several minutes. 'Your family games...' she began.
'What about them?'
'You pull your punches, no?'
'Well... Yeah, of course we do,' Ginny replied matter-of-factly. 'Even then, someone usually ends up with a bloody nose, or black eye. Had a few broken noses, fingers, and arms in the past.'
'Perhaps you shouldn't with Al next time.'
'I don't know,' Ginny said doubtfully. 'It might backfire...'
'Just an idea, Gin. You don't have to do it. But if he's a fraction as hard-headed as you are, that might be what it takes.'
Ginny rubbed her hand over her face. 'I can't do it,' she groaned. 'I can't do that to my child...'
'He's not a child anymore,' Gwenog huffed. 'Acting like one, though.'
'It's manipulative,' Ginny stated flatly. 'And I refuse to be a party to it.'
'Your choice,' Gwenog said with a shrug. 'But you can't hold a kid like him down for very long, yeah? Try that, and you'll lose him.'
Ginny's eyes closed against the sting of tears. 'I know.'
Harry nudged the tray in front of Dudley with a cautious fingertip. 'Blimey. I thought the food in our hospital was disgusting...' His nose wrinkled at the odiferous, yet somehow limp in appearance, fish fillet that sat inertly on the plate. The roasted potatoes hunched in an arid clump next to it. For pudding, there was something that resembled cake, topped with desiccated peaches. There was a small carton of milk provided with the meal, but it seemed to require both hands to open it, and Dudley was currently making do with one. The other was bound in a sling.
'It's a ploy,' Dudley proffered. 'To make us get out of here sooner.' He grinned. 'I keep trying to convince Aaron to sneak in something edible, but the ward sister terrifies him. Terrifies me, as well,' he confided.
'Reminds me of one of my teachers at school,' Harry mused, tilting his chair back a little, so he could peer at the sister through a gap in the curtains, marching between beds. If she'd worn wizarding robes, they would have billowed about -- quite like an overgrown bat. 'He was rather intimidating at times.' He snorted mirthfully. 'Unless of course, you were an insolent brat, like I was.'
'Speaking of that...' Dudley began. 'Did you look into it?' he asked significantly.
'I spoke to some members of my department this morning. They've had the two trainees following you for the past several days, apparently. Evidently, you're good practice.'
'Never run the same route two days in a row,' Dudley said proudly.
'It seems you vary your route daily,' Harry correctly wryly. 'Be that as it may, they saw it all. They were the ones that rang for help. It seems that you were semi-conscious and heard them arguing about what to do next.'
Dudley looked gobsmacked. 'So it was just some random nutter?' he whispered incredulously.
'It looks that way.' Harry gently touched Dudley's uninjured arm. 'I'm to pay your attacker a visit in the morning, just to make sure. We really do try to keep tabs on people who don't like your sort.'
'I thought they didn't think like that so much anymore,' Dudley said in obvious confusion.
Harry sat back in the hard, straight-backed chair. 'Mostly, we don't. It still doesn't stop people from looking for something -- or someone -- to blame for their lot in life.' He looked his bewildered cousin in the eye. 'I promise you, if it is one of ours...' He trailed off and the rest of the thought hung between them, unsaid.
Dudley's eyes widened briefly at the cold, hard light that flashed in Harry's eyes, repressing a shiver. For the merest sliver of a moment, he almost pitied the wizard that crossed Harry, much less threatened a family member. Harry nodded once, then unfolded his lanky frame from the chair.
'I have to go. Ginny's working a bit late tonight, and the kids have been by themselves all day.'
'Make sure they haven't killed each other, eh?'
'Something like that.' Harry patted Dudley's back in farewell, and walked down the corridor, almost running right into Aaron.
'Oh, good. You're here...' Aaron slipped a hand into the jacket of his suit and presented Harry with two envelopes. 'One is for you. I promised Ginny the other day I'd send her a recent photograph of Sarah.' He thumbed the topmost envelope aside, revealing one addressed to a certain house in Little Whinging. 'I don't suppose you could post that one for me...?'
Surprised, Harry took both envelopes. He ran a thumb over the Dursleys' address and glanced at Aaron. 'You think they'll open it?'
Aaron looked down at the envelope, the address written in his painfully neat penmanship, the image of Petunia leaning avidly forward for news of her granddaughter, all the while maintaining a perfectly aloof facial expression. 'I think she will. Whether she keeps it or tosses it into the dustbin...' He shrugged. 'That is entirely something else.'
'Doesn't hurt to try, then, I suppose.' Harry tucked the envelopes into the pocket of his trousers and left the hospital. He found a postbox on the street and pulled out the envelope meant for Petunia and stared at it until the name blurred and swam, then finally dropped it through the slot.
Andre stopped by Harry's desk and handed him a small slip of paper. 'He's in Brixton.'
Harry's brows rose. Brixton had a somewhat dodgy reputation, despite its numerous reforms. 'What do I need to take with me?'
'Photographic identification. Like a driving license...'
'I've got that...'
'You'll be searched, but we have one of the Aurors in there, and they'll be responsible for the search, so you won't have to worry about your wand.' Andre consulted the slip of paper clutched in Harry's fingers. 'Glynnis Fry... One of the older Aurors...'
Harry nodded. Glynnis had been with the Aurors for years before he joined the department, and was close to retirement. Working as a liaison between the Ministry and His Majesty's Prison Service was a way for her to ease out of active service and into retirement. 'Thanks.' Andre's head bobbed once and his mouth opened, then snapped shut. 'What?' Harry asked. 'You've never felt obligated to keep your opinions secret.'
Andre's face tightened for a moment. 'It's just... All indications point to this being nothing. It's an enormous allocation of time, resources, effort...'
Harry folded the slip of paper between his fingers. 'Not if it keeps someone who enjoys hurting people -- magical or otherwise -- from being able to do it again,' he said grimly. 'I want to talk with Dominic and Jack when I get back, all right?'
Andre exhaled through his nose. 'Fine.'
Harry was greeted by Glynnis, the corner of his mouth turning up briefly at the sight of the usually grandmotherly woman outfitted in a severe police uniform. 'Harry Potter to see Joseph Alderton,' he said genially.
'Photograpic identification, please,' Glynnis intoned in a bored sort of voice.
Harry dug his wallet from the pocket of his trousers and thumbed his driving license from its sleeve, then handed it over to Glynnis, who pretended to examine it. 'I've got you set up in a private interview room. And I've, ah, taken care of the video camera...' she said in a low voice. She handed Harry back his license and added, 'You need to fill out this form, sir.' Harry quickly scanned the form, and dutifully filled in the information. 'Right this way, sir.' Glynnis motioned for Harry to follow her. He emptied his pockets, save for his wand, which Glynnis, as promised, pretended not to notice, and allowed her to scan him with a metal detector, before allowing him through the door behind her. She took him to a room containing a small table and two chairs, one of them occupied by Joseph Alderton.
A look of surprise flitted over Alderton's face, then just as quickly smoothed into vague neutrality as Harry took the other seat. Harry frowned and folded his hands together on top of the smooth surface of the table. 'Who's your family?' Harry asked quietly.
'Haven't got one,' Alderton said sullenly.
'I can look it up,' Harry said mildly.
Alderton looked uncomfortable. 'I'm from Hampshire,' he said finally. 'I went to a boarding school, starting with year six.'
'What's the name of the school?'
'St. James'. In Lincolnshire.'
'Hmmm.' Harry studied the man sitting across from him. 'Is there a reason why you were sent all the way to Lincolnshire?'
Alderton shook his head. 'No idea,' he said. But something in his eyes made Harry take pause.
Harry leaned across the table. 'You weren't told why you were sent to a boarding school?' His lips pursed. 'Even I was informed why I was sent to one...'
'My parents just said it was for the best.'
Harry sat back in his chair. 'Why did you attack Dudley Dursley last Saturday evening?'
'Haven't been convicted yet,' Alderton corrected.
'Fine. Allegedly,' Harry grunted, far too familiar with legal niceties.
'I don't like him.'
Harry blinked. 'Do you even know him?'
'I know his kind.'
Harry stiffened with barely suppressed outrage. 'I'm sorry... What do you mean by "his kind"?'
'His kind. Abominations.'
'Against what, may I ask?'
'Against the natural order of things.'
'Which is?'
Alderton smiled thinly. 'You wouldn't understand, would you? To be born something different from the rest of your family? To know they loathe you, and wonder where they went wrong with you?'
Harry swallowed around the large lump in his throat. 'I...' He took a steadying breath. 'I understand far more than you think.'
'Yeah, right,' Alderton snorted. 'Are we done here?'
'Yeah, we're done...' Harry stayed seated as Alderton rose from the chair and slouched to the door, knocking to notify the officer on the other side he was ready to leave. He remained there long after Alderton had left, thoroughly confused. Everything he'd said had more than one meaning. And Harry hadn't missed the expression on Alderton's face when he walked into the room. He was hiding something.
Or perhaps he wasn't hiding anything at all, and Andre, Bree, and Iain were right -- he needed a nice long holiday, and was looking for shadows where none existed.
Charlie glanced down the long table during the usual family Sunday lunch. Al normally sat next to Rose, but this afternoon, he was all the way on the end, next to his oldest boy Owen, who rarely spoke, unless addressed directly. Al slumped in his chair, molding the pile of mashed potatoes into peaks and valleys, shooting resentful looks at his parents. Charlie knew why. It was one of the worst-kept secrets the family had. He'd heard all about it from Isabella.
Charlie idly tore a roll in half, absently buttering it, wondering where time had gone. He could still see the newborn Albus, cradled in Ginny's arms, hardly larger than the doll she'd had as a little girl. Even then, as a baby, he'd been stubborn -- hardly a feat considering both of his parents had legendary amounts of willfulness. Mere words weren't going to convince his nephew he was far too young to play professionally. And Charlie, once considered a top prospect for England himself, before he took off for Romania, knew what he was going to do. It was just going to take a great deal of careful planning.
He looked across the table at George, and jerked his head toward the door. George nodded, then Charlie nudged Bill in the ribs. George's eyes narrowed at this silent byplay, but cottoned on rather quickly, and in the guise of separating Jacob and Fred from a minor tussle, tapped Ron on the shoulder and gestured to the door. When Ron started to prod Harry, Charlie began to cough loudly and dramatically. George leaned down to Ron and whispered, 'Leave Harry out of this one, eh?' Ron eyed him in bemusement, but slowly drew his hand back and wrapped it around the handle of his knife.
After pudding had been served and devoured, Charlie remarked to Bill, 'Bit stuffy in here. Think I'll go for a bit of air...' He strolled out into the garden, followed at irregular intervals by Bill, George, and Ron. A silvery crane perched with nonchalance on the stone wall, and as they approached, flew off in the direction of the old treehouse. Charlie was sitting on the floor of it, his back braced against a wall, face tilted to the sun streaming through the window.
'So?' George asked, taking a spot on the floor next to Charlie.
'So the game next week,' Charlie began, his voice barely above a murmur. 'Albus wants to play with the big boys, let's show him what it's like to play with the big boys.'
Ron gaped at him. 'Are you mad?' he spluttered. 'Blimey, Charlie, he'll be lucky to get off with a concussion...'
'Exactly,' Charlie confirmed.
'Ginny's liable to hex us all,' Bill mused.
'Risk we'll have to take,' George shot back.
'Harry and Ginny will never approve of this,' Ron said nervously.
'And that's why we won't tell them,' Charlie said. 'They're both smart, after a few minutes they'll figure it out. But they'll be able to claim they knew nothing... And if young Albus acts like a git on his broom, and I'm sure he will, well...' Charlie shrugged.
'Should we play like Falmouth, or like we have morals and ethics?' Bill asked.
'I don't think we ought to play dirty,' George stated. 'But I think we ought to use professional-grade equipment. Especially the Snitch.'
'So no aiming Bludgers at his head, eh?' Ron asked.
'No,' Charlie replied. 'But don't make it easy for him. Apply pressure, try to unseat him. We've all seen professional matches. We know what they can do, and we're capable of doing most of it.'
'Should we tell Percy?' wondered Bill. 'Even though he doesn't play...'
'He keeps score,' Ron interjected. 'We ought to let him know.'
'So it's us against...?' George asked Charlie.
'Adults against the kids?' Bill guessed.
'George and me as Beaters,' Charlie said slowly. 'Bill, Ginny, and Teddy can play Chaser. Ron, you'll play Keeper, and Harry will be the Seeker.' He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. 'We'll need Vic to provide any medical assistance, too...'
'She can do that,' Bill said.
'What about the kids' team?' George wondered.
'Parker plays Keeper,' Ron said. 'Maddie, Izzy, and Victoire as Chasers. Fred and Jacob will be the Beaters, and Al, of course, is the Seeker.'
'James won't play?' Bill asked in surprise. 'Or Rosie?'
'Nobody under sixteen plays this one,' Charlie decided.
'That's rather arbitrary,' Bill argued.
'Yeah, but Maddie's almost of age,' George responded. 'And the twins are like a bloody wall.'
Charlie stood, stooping slightly under the low roof of the treehouse. 'So we're in agreement?'
Bill glanced at George and Ron. They each gave him a jerk of the head with a cocked brow that he took to mean assent. 'Yeah,' he muttered, replying for them all.
Al leaned against the apple tree, toying with a Snitch, releasing it, letting it fly away, then snatching it from midair. Harry had told them their grandfather James used to do it all the time to impress people with his Quidditch skills. It sounded like a good idea, and Al thought it was a good way to improve his technique.
Isabella perched sideways on her broom, swinging her feet so the tips of her toes swished through the tall grass of the paddock. Every time Al let go of the Snitch, and caught it with a smirking flourish, she rolled her eyes. After he let out a self-satisfied bark of laughter, she burst out, 'Oh, for Godric's sake, we know you're good already! Give it a rest, yeah?'
Fred and Jacob's mouths dropped open in identical faces of shock. Isabella could be blunt, but she rarely used such an irate tone. 'Iz...' Fred said in a hushed whisper.
'Like the rest of you weren't thinking the same thing,' she grumbled.
'Well, none of us were going to actually say it,' Parker murmured.
A muscle in Al's jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together. 'What do you know?' he huffed belligerently to Isabella. 'You're just a bloody scout. Those who can... do. Those who can't...' He trailed off and left the rest of the thought unspoken, but his meaning was abundantly clear. Isabella's opinion, according to Al, was worthless, since she wasn't actually going to play the game, except as a recreational activity with the family.
Isabella went rigid. Her hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into her palms. She wanted nothing more than to Apparate home, find the letter on her bureau from Appleby, offering her a place on their Reserves, and return to the Burrow to brandish it in Al's face. She briefly considered smacking the smug look off his face, but swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat and stalked in the direction she'd seen Charlie walk toward after lunch. She nearly ran headlong into her father.
Charlie steadied Isabella, looking at her in concern. She vibrated with rage, barely holding it in check. 'What is it, cariad?' he asked gently.
'I know you're planning something,' she said, her voice shaking.
'Maybe,' Charlie hedged.
Isabella looked over Charlie's shoulder and gestured at her uncles strolling down the paddock. 'The four of you. You're plotting something.' She sniffed the air delicately above him. 'And no alcohol was involved.' George, Bill, and Ron slowed as they joined them. Isabella gave them each piercing looks before she turned back to Charlie. 'If it's got anything to do with Al, I want in on it.'
'Iz... Izzy... I don't think...' Charlie began, but Isabella cut him off with a hand, slashing through the air.
'Dad... I'm done trying to talk to that little wanker,' Isabella hissed. 'I want in.'
Charlie cupped his daughter's face in his roughened hands. His thumbs swept unheeded tears from her cheeks and he lightly kissed her forehead. She wasn't to be dissuaded. 'All right.'
SEVENTY SEVEN -- Patience Is a Virtue
Draco's fingers beat a nervous tattoo against the side of his thigh. Hermione's assistant made him jumpy. She had a way of keeping one eye on Draco, as if he might make off with the collection of handsome eagle quills in a crystal vase on the corner of the desk, while the other firmly remained on her work. It reminded him uncomfortably of the first year of his probation, and the team of Hit Wizards that transported him to and from the Ministry for those first interviews.
He squirmed on the hard chair outside Hermione's office door, the parchment containing his probation terms crinkling loudly in the hushed confines of the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. His palms began to sweat, and he rubbed them over the knees of his trousers. His pulse began to pound, and Draco fancied he could see the veins that stood out on the backs of his hands throb in time with his heartbeat.
'Draco?'
Draco visibly jumped, biting his tongue. He stood and faced Hermione, looking at him quizzically. 'Thank you for seeing me,' he muttered, ducking into her office, while he pulled the sheaf of papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. 'I need to ask you something,' he began without preamble, holding the parchment out to her.
'Good morning, Draco,' Hermione said. 'Lovely weather we're having,' she added, reminding him of the niceties of civilized conversation.
Draco's jaw worked a couple of times, then he opened his mouth. 'Granger,' he said stiffly in greeting. 'And yes, the weather has been particularly fine.'
Hermione grinned then circled her desk, sitting in the large leather chair behind it. 'What can I do for you today?'
Draco slid the parchment across the scrupulously tidy desk. 'I need to know if I can have something published anonymously.' He frowned. 'No, that's not right. Under a pseudonym...'
Hermione took the much-creased document and began to read it carefully, scrutinizing each line. 'The Ministry has final approval of what you'd want to publish,' she finally said. 'But I'd have to talk to Kingsley about whether or not you'd be able to do it under an assumed name.'
'Figures,' Draco sighed, reaching across the desk for his papers.
'What do you want to write?' Hermione asked interestedly.
Draco heaved a longsuffering sigh and busied himself with tucking the parchment back into his pocket. 'Potions textbook,' he mumbled.
'I'm sorry, I didn't quite...'
Draco flushed a bright, painful red. 'A Potions textbook,' he said, slightly louder, through clenched teeth.
'About time someone tried to write a new one,' Hermione huffed.
Draco gaped at her in astonishment. 'What did you say?'
'Someone needs to write a new one,' Hermione declared. 'Magical Draughts and Potions hasn't been edited since Dumbledore was a lad. Clarity in the instructions would be helpful. And a cross-reference of ingredients and how they react would be most excellent.'
Draco shook his head, as if a bothersome gnat tickled his ear. 'Are you saying I should undertake this rather mad endeavor?'
Hermione rested her elbows on the desk, and leaned forward. 'Truthfully?' she stated. 'Truthfully, it needs to be done. Snape wasn't completely awful as a teacher, but he didn't explain things very well, and Magical Draughts doesn't have much in the way of reference. If Snape didn't describe it in much detail when he introduced that day's lesson, we had nothing to fall back on in class to assist us. Certainly would have made things easier for someone like Neville, who froze every time Snape said "Boo" to him.'
'The techniques are awkward,' Draco said, eagerness lighting his face. 'I've been doing research and trying some things out...'
'Does it work?'
'Yes. It does,' Draco replied, letting a hint of pride creep into his voice.
'How long will it take to finish, do you think?'
Draco's fair brows drew together slightly, as he tried to picture the work he'd already put into the project. 'Another year, perhaps. Within two, I would imagine.'
'Brilliant,' Hermione said with a small smile. 'Can you illustrate it?'
Draco shook his head. 'I can't even draw straight lines...'
'No matter. I know someone.' Hermione sat back in the enormous chair. 'Why did you decide to do this?'
Draco studied his nails while he determined the best reply. 'I needed something to occupy my time,' he told her, unwilling to say that it had been Andrew's prodding to find something -- anything -- that he enjoyed and did well.
Hermione rose gracefully to her feet. 'You'll keep me informed of your progress?' she asked, gesturing to the door.
Recognizing a polite dismissal, Draco sprang to his feet. 'I will.'
'I ought to have a response from Kingsley by the end of the week,' Hermione added. 'I shall send an owl to you with the particulars. I can't say for certain, but vetting your manuscript might take the entire Wizengamot,' she said softly. 'Or it could be me, Kingsley, and Harry.'
Draco's lips pressed together in a line. 'I appreciate... your... assistance in the matter,' he murmured haltingly. 'I am traveling to Nice in a couple of days,' he said tightly, as he opened the door. 'Please direct anything you send to my mother's house.'
Hermione held out a hand. 'Goodbye, Draco.'
As he had before, Draco briefly shook her hand, as if it burned, then stumbled from the room. Hermione chuckled a little, but sobered at the thought of what it cost a man with as much pride as Draco to condescend to seek out her advice in particular. A line from one of her father's old albums drifted through her head.
How many times must a man look up? Before he can see the sky?
It seemed appropriate.
'Hang on...' Jacob rubbed his temples in the manner of one with a raging headache. 'You want to do what?'
Ron crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the children clustered around the rickety table in the flat above the shop. 'Sunday's game,' he said heavily, hating that they even had to contemplate such an action. 'We're going to attempt to teach Albus a bit of a lesson in humility.'
'By beating him to a pulp?' Victoire exclaimed doubtfully.
'We're not going to maim him,' George sighed.
'Pity,' Fred murmured.
'Frederick Arthur Weasley!' George snapped. 'We don't maim relatives.'
'But disgracing them is perfectly acceptable?' Fred shot back.
'In this case, it's the only feasible option,' Madeline murmured. 'He's past listening to anyone.'
Teddy glanced uneasily at Victoire, winding his fingers though hers. 'Do Harry and Ginny know?'
Ron shook his head. 'No. And we're not going to tell them.'
'Plausible deniability,' Parker said evenly, marveling inwardly at the simplicity of the plan. 'If Al confronts them later, even if they participate in the... advanced level of play,' he coughed, 'then they can deny they were involved in the planning of the event.'
'Why aren't you going into International Magical Law again?' Isabella asked.
'Because I sound like a pompous arse,' Parker snorted.
'Oh, right,' she agreed. Isabella eyed her cousins. 'How are we going to tell the younger ones that they can't play Sunday?'
'I'll take care of James and Lily,' Teddy told her. 'You can tell Aiden and Owen. Maddie or Vic can inform Nicky and Alex. Tweedledum or Tweedledee over there can take care of Sophie...'
'Oi! I resemble that remark!' Jacob objected.
'Then that would make you Tweedledum, no?' Teddy said loftily. He smoothly resumed his thought. 'Parker, you'll tell Payton and Patrick. And that just leaves Rosie and Hugo...'
'I'll see to my own children,' Ron said dryly.
'It really ought to come from one of us, Uncle Ron,' Victoire said earnestly. 'I'll go later.' Ron shrugged, then nodded in agreement.
'Oh, and Vic?' George interjected. 'We'll need you to provide any sort of medical attention Albus might need.'
Vic flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'Well, seeing as how there isn't any maiming involved, I ought to be able to handle it.'
Ron and George looked at each other. 'I believe that covers it,' George murmured.
'I believe it does,' Ron concurred. He started for the door, but paused. 'Just one more thing... We can't go easy on you lot, either. It would look too suspicious otherwise. We won't be as rough as we will with Al, but...'
'Have to maintain the illusion,' Victoire said sardonically.
George twisted his hands together. 'Yeah,' he said to his interlaced fingers. He looked up at his niece. 'None of us particularly like that we have to do this...' He opened the door and walked steadily down the stairs, his footfalls echoing loudly.
It seemed like the ticking of a clock, counting the minutes and hours until Sunday afternoon.
Daphne sat on the edge of Scorpius' bed, while he layered clothing into the bag next to her. 'Are you certain you don't mind going to your grandmother's so soon?'
Scorpius nudged a drawer shut with his toes and turned back to his mother, clutching an armful of socks. 'No.' He stuffed them into the bag and yanked the zipper closed. 'It's all right.'
'You usually spend a few days with Al,' Daphne said bemused.
'Not this time.'
'Did you have a falling-out of some sort?' Daphne persisted.
Scorpius sighed and heaved the bag to the floor. 'No.'
'Scorpius, darling...' Daphne hesitated. He had few friends outside of Al and his extended family, and she worried a rift in his relationship with Al would make him retreat behind walls, much like Draco had done. 'Did something happen between the two of you?'
Scorpius dropped into the window seat, pulling his knees into his chest. 'You talk to his mother, right?'
'I do.'
'So you know about England and all of that?'
'Yes...'
'Well, he's acting like a spoilt child,' Scorpius declared. 'And I'm going to say something I'll regret.' He turned his gaze to the sweeping lawns surrounding the mansion, flashes of lightning briefly washing out the features of his face. 'I keep hoping that with the holiday, he'll see reason.'
'And if he doesn't?' Daphne countered shrewdly.
'I don't really know, Mother. But I won't stand idly by while he insults and alienates everyone around him.' He shrugged. Thunder rumbled ominously, rolling away into the distance.
Daphne sighed and stood, stepping to the window. She ran her hand over the back of Scorpius' head, smoothing the rumpled blonde hair. 'You need a haircut.'
'I'll get one in Nice...'
Daphne kissed his cheek. 'Better get to bed soon. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.'
'Good night, Mother.'
Daphne slipped into her bedroom and lit the lamps with a careless wave of her wand. She moved quietly around the room, preparing for bed. She removed her clothing, dropping it neatly into a basket in the bathroom, and pulled on her oldest nightdress, then brushed her teeth. The impending storm had arrived when she emerged from the bathroom, the thin cotton of her nightdress swirling around her knees. She doused the lamps with another wave of her wand, and dropped into the rocking chair in a corner, turning it so she could look out the window. Daphne loved thunderstorms -- their unpredictability, the wild surges of rain, and buffeting winds that sometimes rattled the windows.
That was not the case in the bedroom just down the corridor.
Draco used to enjoy watching lightning streak across the sky when he was younger. The night he'd received the Dark Mark, a storm raged around the mansion. He could see the rain and wind lashing the massive windows in the ballroom, while intermittent bolts of lightning highlighted the growing monstrosity on his forearm.
He huddled in the middle of his wide bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, flinching with each flash of lightning or rumble of thunder. Draco's eyes darted around the room. There was nothing in the room that indicated he lived or slept in there. There were no photographs of Daphne or his mother. Not even one of Scorpius as a baby. No bits of rubbish that he'd picked up and kept because they were interesting. No potted plants. Even the draperies and bedding were nondescript shades of brown. It was a thoroughly depressing bedroom. And immensely lonely.
As the next barrage of thunder faded, he clambered off the bed, snatching his dressing gown from the foot and tiptoed to Daphne's bedroom door. He tapped softly, gripping his dressing gown tightly in one hand. 'Daphne?' he called. He opened the door and craned his head through the narrow opening. 'Daphne?'
Daphne looked around the edge of the rocking chair. 'Are you all right?'
Draco drew a deep breath. 'Could I... I thought perhaps I might...' Thunder crashed overhead. Draco blundered into the bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it. 'Could I sleep in here tonight?' he muttered tightly.
Daphne looked at him, one brow raised slightly. 'Of course...' She pushed herself out of the rocking chair and crossed the room to her bed, turning it down. She slid under the bedding and beckoned to Draco. 'Aren't you coming to bed?'
'Yes.' Draco carefully hung his dressing gown on a hook next to Daphne's inside the wardrobe, and gingerly joined his wife in the bed. She turned to him, snuggling into his side, her arm flung across his chest. Draco's head turned and he was met by Daphne's soft kiss. He felt the tension slowly ease and brought up one hand to brush her hair from her face. 'In that book you read to me,' he began hesitantly.
'Yes?'
'The second level of Hell... with the people blowing around in the wind?'
'Ah, the one with people who succumbed to lust...'
'Do you think they ever got to touch each other?'
'No. They were being punished for their inability to keep their hands to themselves,' Daphne chuckled. 'Could you imagine? Wanting something as simple as the touch of another person, but never able to feel it. At least not until you'd been deemed to have suffered enough and could move on to Purgatory.'
The room brightened momentarily, flickering with unnatural light. Draco mentally counted to himself. One... two... three. He winced as the expected thunder rolled around the mansion.
He turned to his side, propping his head on his upturned hand. 'I know it's not the same, but it's like I've been living like that with you. I don't want to live like that anymore.'
Daphne inhaled slowly. 'You do realize this means you'll have to make amends with Scorpius.'
'I do...' Draco let his head fall back into the fluffy pillow. 'But what if he doesn't want to...?'
'You'll just have to keep trying. It won't happen immediately or because you will it so...' Daphne's hand blindly sought Draco's and she slid her fingers through his. 'Try to get some sleep.'
James folded his lanky frame to the grass next to Rose. 'So what do you think?' he muttered from the side of his mouth.
'You look like a gangster in some American film,' she scoffed. She shielded her eyes from the sun, watching Al fly around the paddock. He was fearless, supremely confident. She could see the smirk on his face, even from where she sat with her back against the stone fence. 'Hugo thinks it could backfire on them.' She shrugged. 'He might be right. But don't tell him I said so!' she added hastily.
'Won't hear it from me...' James leaned against the sun-warmed stones. 'But how could it backfire? Isn't the point to teach the little git a lesson?'
Rose bit her lip and glanced up at the figures flying in formation over their heads, warming up for the game. 'He's already angry,' she murmured. 'And humiliating him might have the opposite effect from what Uncle Charlie intended. It could make him angrier that his own family did this to him, rather than letting him practice with the English team. If it's England that does it to him, they're more or less neutral. At least that's what Hugo said...' She glanced sideways at James. 'You didn't tell your parents, did you?'
James shook his head, sending his shaggy hair flying. 'No.'
Sophie joined them, her small face set into tense lines. 'This is not going to end well...'
'What makes you say that?' James asked. She pointed to George, striding toward the group under the spreading branches of a tree. He twirled the Beater's bat around his hand nonchalantly as he walked. James had tried to learn how to do it, but it required a great deal of practice, and manual dexterity to do it. He more often than not ended up smacking himself in the face. George's expression was grim and determined. 'Looks like he's about to do some serious damage,' James breathed in awe. He'd never seen his uncles look quite so competitive.
'Jacob's not too pleased about this, either,' Sophie commented. 'Fred, on the other hand, wishes he were playing for the other team, so he could take Al's head off with a Bludger.'
Ginny wrapped her wrists in thick, white Spellotape, using her teeth to tear it off, smoothing the end over the insides. She grabbed her shin guards and nudged Harry in the ribs. 'Is it just me or does it seem a bit... off... today?'
Harry looked around. Charlie, George, Bill, and Ron stood together in a clump, whispering, throwing furtive glances their way. Victoire nervously toyed with her wand, muttering under her breath. Teddy's hair was an indeterminate muddy blue. Fred had already mounted his broom, and swung his bat around, eyes gleaming in anticipation. In that, he very much resembled his namesake. Jacob looked as if he were going to be sick, gripping his bat so tightly, his knuckles were white. Parker stood ramrod straight under his goalposts, idly slapping his gloved hands together. Maddie and Isabella each held their brooms, arms wound around each other's waists. They looked so serious, it might have been comic, had they not both been pale.
'Yeah, it's a little intense...' he agreed.
Percy blew his whistle, signaling the start of the game. Harry shrugged and mounted his broom, kicking off and soaring into the air. He held out a hand to Ginny and drew her closer, kissing her soundly. 'For luck, eh?' he said cheekily, as he flew to the opposite end of the field to wait for Percy to release the Snitch. Harry grinned at the prospect of a good game to release some of the stress he'd been feeling lately. He looked across the paddock and saw Al studying him. Harry met his youngest son's gaze and nodded once. One player to another.
Percy hovered on his broom over the middle of the paddock, and met Charlie's sober blue eyes. Charlie's head slowly inclined. Do it. Percy closed his eyes, and opened his gloved hand.
The Snitch shot into the air and Harry and Al simultaneously darted after it.
Charlie shifted the bat in his hand and coiled his body, the muscles in his arm straining. He quickly gauged the distance between the Bludger and his nephew, then swung the bat. The sound of it slamming into the Bludger echoed around the paddock, making everyone go silent for a moment.
Al's gaze swiveled to his left and his eyes widened at the sleek black ball streaking toward him. He jerked his broom handle up, and narrowly missed being hit in the ribs. The Bludger glanced off his shin, making him hiss in genuine pain. Bill came barreling down the makeshift pitch, the Quaffle balanced easily in his large hand. He drew his arm back, and threw the ball to Ginny, who caught it with her fingertips. Al realized Bill was going to slam into him, and attempted to dodge the expected collision. Ginny threw the Quaffle back to Bill. Bill's forearm crashed into Al's nose. 'Sorry. My fault,' Bill murmured, non-apologetically.
Al raised shaking fingers to his face and pulled them away. Bright red blood coated his fingers. He didn't have time to ponder why two of his uncles had deliberately aimed to injure. Another Bludger zoomed toward him. It wasn't hit with quite the force Charlie had managed, but it was expertly placed. George had hit it just ahead of Al, so it intersected with his flight path. The Bludger hit him in the shoulder, temporarily making him wheeze for air.
Ginny stilled on her broom, watching the game in bewilderment. Her brothers usually played hard, but never this hard. The mother in her wanted to stop the game and check Al for broken bones, to wash the blood from his face.
That is, until Al pulled a stunt that made every adult gasp.
Harry was reaching for the Snitch, when it suddenly switched directions, and hurtled into his face, bouncing off his mouth. He smiled a little, remembering the first game of Quidditch he ever played. Harry recovered and his eyes darted over the pitch, looking for the Snitch.
Al saw the Snitch fly into his father's face. Harry's head shook and his hand passed over his mouth, as if brushing something foul away. Al grinned evilly, and began making retching noises, pretending to spit something into his hand.
Hermione's face paled. She gasped and covered her mouth. 'Oh, Godric...' Katie breathed.
'You can say that again,' Hermione replied in a low voice.
'That was entirely inappropriate.' Penny's voice broke into their thoughts. Then in a harder tone, 'I will be shocked if they let that go without penance of some sort.'
Harry froze on his broom. He recalled with vivid clarity the days after his first game, and Draco cruelly mocked him at every turn, and his mouth went dry at the thought his own son was capable of such taunting. His eyes narrowed. Right, Harry thought. The gloves are off. Gone was the genial father, and in its place was the cold, narrow focus of a professional player. The player Harry could have been, had he chosen to accept any of the numerous offers that littered his desk in the days after the war, instead of the Aurors.
Ginny saw the Quaffle hurtled toward her from the corner of her eye. She caught it without looking, and aimlessly flew toward the goalposts. Pieces began to fall into place. Her brothers' solemn demeanors during lunch. The tense atmosphere. The atypical physicality of the game. Something she hadn't experienced firsthand since her last game with the Harpies. They're telling him what it's like to play with the professional players... She looked back over her shoulder. Al was still mercilessly aping Harry and the manner in which he'd caught his first Snitch. Torn between wanting to protect her husband and her son, Ginny floated uncertainly halfway to the goalpost. But when Al's scathing laughter reached her ears, the decision was made. I won't slam into him, she vowed. But I won't make it easy for him, either. She slung the ball toward the goalpost, Parker watched it fly through, making no move to stop it.
'Oops.' He looked at Ginny and let the corner of his mouth turn up.
The game rapidly deteriorated from there.
Ginny readily handed the Quaffle to either Teddy or Bill when they were close to Al, forcing him to change his course. It kept him distracted and off-balance.
George and Charlie pounded Al with Bludgers every chance they got. Some he managed to avoid, others unerringly found their mark, leaving him bruised and aching.
Harry jostled with him in competition for the Snitch, ruthlessly shoving his arm out of the way. A few times, Harry executed a perfect Vronsky feint, and Al fell for it, narrowly missing slamming into the ground. Once, as he pulled up, the toe of Al's trainer caught in the grass, and he twisted his ankle. It throbbed painfully as the game wound to its conclusion.
After more than an hour of play, Harry saw something glint in his peripheral vision. He looked up without moving his head, and saw the Snitch fluttering overhead. I'm still taller than Albus. He brought his feet up, and crouched on the broom handle, then stood, balancing for just a moment. With one arm held out to maintain his perch, Harry swept the other one up in an arc and snatched the Snitch from the air, feeling the wings beat furiously against his hand.
There was no joy, no exhilaration in the victory. Harry's stomach grew even more hollow when he saw Al slump to the handle of his broom in defeat. Harry slowed the broom, and resumed his seat slowly zigzagging to the ground. Ginny landed next to him, flushed and breathing hard. She stared up at him, then gazed at Al, limping away, ignoring Victoire's entreaties to stop, so she could treat his injuries. 'Did you know they were going to come down so hard on him?' she asked.
'No...' Harry struggled to keep his temper controlled. He wasn't quite sure to whom to direct his building ire -- Ginny's brothers or his particularly thick-headed son. Or himself for allowing Al's taunts to bother him to the point where he forgot himself and ceased to see Al as his child and saw him as another competitor. 'For the bloody greater good,' he spat softly and stalked off toward the relative safety of the Burrow.
'Al, stop!' Victoire cried.
Al scrubbed a hand over his face, tears mixing with the dried blood, smearing the resultant mess over his cheeks. 'Leave me alone!' he roared.
Victoire debated Stunning the ungrateful brat, but she tried another tactic. 'You might have injuries that could harm your chances of playing professionally if you leave them untreated!' Al came to a stop and turned to face Victoire. She closed the distance between them and waved her wand over his head. 'No internal bleeding...' She motioned for him to sit in the tall grass. 'Let me see your ankle,' she ordered, cool professionalism taking over. She carefully manipulated it, mindful of the swelling. 'It's not broken,' she pronounced, jabbing her wand at it. His trainer and sock inched off his foot, and a crepe bandage unfurled from the tip, wrapping around his ankle in elegant figure-eights. She used a Sticking charm to hold the end in place. She gently ran a finger down the bridge of Al's nose. 'Can you breathe through your nose?' Al dutifully complied. 'Good.' Victoire lit the tip of her wand and aimed the light into each of his nostrils. She tilted his chin up, bringing his face into the light. 'No bruising around your eyes or swelling... I don't think it's broken...' She sat back. 'Where else does it hurt?'
Al said nothing, but indicated his side. Victoire quickly ran her fingers over it, and asked, 'Can you lift your shirt for me?' Al silently gathered the side of his stained t-shirt in one hand, raising the hem.
A livid deep purple bruise blossomed over his right side. Victoire murmured, 'Rivelarosso.' A ghostly image of Al's ribcage floated between them. Victoire used her wand to rotate the image. 'Doesn't appear to be broken either...'
'Then why does it hurt so damn much?' Al said between clenched teeth.
'Because you can't stop breathing,' Victoire murmured. She pointed her wand at his ribs. 'You ought to feel better in a week. But it's a slower process than anything else. Even with magic. You really can't keep the muscle from moving, so that's why it takes longer.' She made a small circle with her wand and yet another crepe bandage wound around Al's skinny ribs. 'You can take that off in a couple of days.' She stood, tucking her wand into her pocket. 'Grandmum has some analgesic potions in the kitchen. Go take one. No more than every eight hours, though, all right?' She started to walk back to the group clustered under the towering elm tree. 'I'll come see you in a few days to check...'
Al huddled miserably in the waving grass, unwilling to face anyone just now. Not even his grandmother, who would have clucked with concern over his various scrapes and bruises, then plied him with tea and sympathy. His vision swam with unshed tears and he buried his face in his knees.
Rose lifted her curly mane of hair from her neck and let the breeze play over the heated skin, as she plopped on the grass next to Al. 'I get it. I think you're going about it the wrong way, but I get it. My parents are just as famous as yours, and I do understand what it's like to be the child of heroes. You have to live up to the expectations of them at school, because every bloody teacher either knew them personally or taught them. And yet, we're still treated by our own parents as if we can't come inside from the rain without help. Like we haven't got brains. And Godric knows, it's insanely difficult to find something you can do in this barmy family that somebody else can't do just as well...
'But if you could see yourself... You're acting just like that Greengrass wanker. The Al I used to know would have done the same thing on that pitch that they just did to you.' Rose unfolded her body and looked down her nose at him. 'But I promise you... If I had been up there playing on their side, you wouldn't have been able to walk away.' She stalked away, leaving Al alone with his misery.
Molly levitated a tray laden with tea and biscuits up the stairs and knocked softly on Ron's old bedroom door. 'Harry?' There was no reply, so Molly tried the door. It was unlocked.
Harry sat on the floor, back braced against the wall, hands dangling between his drawn-up knees. The Snitch darted to and fro in the small room. Molly sighed and set the tray on the top of the old bureau, and poured a cup. She handed it to Harry. 'I don't want any tea,' he muttered.
'Drink it,' Molly ordered mildly. 'You'll feel better.'
Harry glared at the tea. 'Damn it, Molly, I'm thirty-nine, not twelve!'
'You're acting like you're twelve,' she snapped. Harry reared back, and his head smacked into the wall. Molly ran her hand over his hair. 'Let me see...' Harry reluctantly bent his head forward for Molly to examine. 'You're fine,' she said, dropping a kiss over the tiny bump anyway. 'Biscuit?'
'Sure...' Harry took a handful and sipped the tea, the soothing warmth creeping into veins.
Molly prepared her own cup, then settled on the edge of the bed. 'He's just like you, you know...'
'Who?'
'Albus. He inherited far more than your good looks.'
Harry's eyes widened. 'His behavior out there was appalling!' he protested.
Molly snorted. 'He's you,' she repeated. 'The person you might have been if you hadn't been kicked about so much as a child.'
'I never behaved like that!'
'Oh no?' Molly said in disbelief. 'You were never that confident in your decisions, convinced you were right in spite of what others told you. Had to learn lessons the hard way?' She calmly sipped her tea. 'If you had waited five minutes, instead of barging into the Ministry, Sirius might still be alive. You might not have nearly been killed, not to mention Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, or Luna...'
'That's not fair,' Harry objected.
'You're going to try and deny that you made mistakes?' Molly countered archly.
'No...'
'You try,' Molly mused. 'You try to teach them what's ethical and moral. You try to guide them when they're young into doing what will be best for them right now and in the future. Sometimes, it works, and others... Others you it can cause a rift...'
'What do should I do...?'
'He's trying to find his place in this life,' Molly said finally. 'You just have to be patient...'
A/N: The lyrics from Blowin' In the Wind are courtesy of Bob Dylan...
SEVENTY EIGHT -- Stages
Ginny watched Harry and Al stumble off in opposite directions, then stalked to where her brothers had landed, gathered under the apple tree. The closer she came to them, the angrier she got. Throwing her broom down, Ginny glared at them until one by one, they wilted slightly under the heat of her stare. She inhaled strongly through her nose and pinned them with her gaze. 'With what portion of your tiny, tiny brains were you thinking that this would be a good idea?' she asked quietly, her voice lashing over them.
They shifted uncomfortably, until George muttered, 'It was Charlie's idea...'
Ginny's head whipped around. 'I don't care whose idea it was.'
Bill tried to meet her eyes. 'You participated,' he retorted.
'No!' Ginny hissed. 'I didn't participate in that... That... Carnage! I didn't deliberately attempt to cause harm and injury to my son!' Her wand suddenly appeared in her hand and every one of them from Bill down to Ron visibly flinched, waiting for enormous bogies to attack them. Ginny turned on her heel and strode to where Al sat huddled in the grass. She stood over him, her arms crossed over her chest, her shadow draped over him. She waited with a remarkable amount of patience, waited for Al to look up, just the slightest bit. 'Your behavior during the match is exactly why your father and I felt it was unwise for you to play with England. If you taunt the other players, you can be damn sure the rest of the team will make you pay for it. You might be talented enough to play for them now, but as far as maturity goes, you have a long way to go, Albus.' Al lifted his head from his bent knees and looked at his mother with ill-disguised reproach. 'And you owe your father an apology, young man.'
'I owe him an apology?' Al spluttered. 'After that... that...'
Ginny inhaled slowly, and counted to ten. Once. Twice. After the third round, she unclenched her fists. 'Yes. To him. You mocked him, even before he started playing to win. Before that, he and I were merely playing for fun. Like we always do.'
'I don't recall you or Dad doing anything to stop Uncle Charlie or Uncle George from attempting to take my bloody head off,' Al retorted mulishly.
Ginny took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'The World Cup's in two years. If you can prove to your father and I that you've grown up, we'll reconsider.' With that, she headed down the lane for a good long walk.
The house was quiet and hushed, with only the sounds of the crickets drifting through the open windows. James peered into Al's darkened room. 'You all right?' he asked. Most of the bruises had faded, thanks to Victoire's spellwork, but Al still walked with a slight limp, favoring his sprained ankle, and held himself stiffly, wincing from time to time when he took a particularly deep breath.
'I'm fine.' Al pulled the bedding over his shoulders and turned to face the wall.
'You deserved it,' James told his brother. 'Maybe not the thrashing they gave you,' he allowed, 'but you did deserve to see what it's like to play on that level. We've both seen Falmouth play, and what the uncles did to you was child's play compared to that.'
'Piss off,' Al muttered.
James snorted. 'Gladly.' He left the room, and stomped into his bedroom, barely refraining from slamming the door.
Al lay on his back, staring up at the charmed ceiling of his bedroom, gaze fixed on the brightest one. He could hear the water running in his parents' bathroom, and silently hoped they would be content to wash and go directly to bed, and leave him alone. He'd had enough lectures to last the rest of the summer. The shower shut off, leaving an eerie silence. He held his breath as much as he was able and waited, wondering what his parents would do.
Harry slipped into Al's room. Al heard Harry's tread on the floor, accompanied by the aroma of his customary sandalwood-scented soap and squeezed his eyes shut. Harry recognized the signs of someone feigning sleep. He'd done it often enough himself. The set of Al's shoulders was too still for him to be sleeping. He perched on the edge of Al's bare desk and examined his youngest son for several long moments, making Al more and more irritable. Harry sighed. 'I won't apologize,' he began. 'I refuse to apologize for playing my game. And I won't apologize for playing to win. You would have done the same. And you do. I respect that.' Harry settled on the edge of the desk. 'I will apologize for reacting to you taunting me. It brought up a lot of bad memories, but I'm an adult, and I shouldn't react that way. And during high-stress situations, it's a good skill to have to be able to keep a rein on your temper. And, well, you are my son. And your mother's. That's a difficult trick to learn, considering both she and I can have somewhat volatile tempers. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.' Harry ached to sit on the bed next to Al, and to run his hand over his son's glossy shock of hair. But there seemed to be an invisible wall erected between them. 'I had no idea your uncles were going to play that hard. I didn't know...' He slid off the edge of the desk, then, and reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing lightly over Al's head.
James' fingers tapped restlessly against the table. He stared sightlessly into his Arithmancy textbook, the symbols and numbers blurring into incomprehensibility. The lamp burning in the middle of the table threw flickering shadows over the pages, making the print swim. His O.W.L. year was fast approaching, and he hadn't discussed his future plans with either of his parents. Not that he felt he needed their permission, but he rather wanted to have their blessing.
Lily glanced at him over the rims of her new glasses. 'Will you stop?' she hissed. 'You're making my head hurt.'
James flattened his hand against the table. 'Sorry...'
'What's the matter with you, anyway?'
James shrugged. 'I need to talk with Mum and Dad,' he muttered. 'But after what happened Sunday...'
Lily returned her attention to her Defense book. 'Just do it,' she advised. 'Like ripping off a plaster, yeah?'
'That still hurts,' James snorted.
Lily set her quill down and propped her chin in an upturned palm. 'What did you do, anyway?'
'Nothing!' James said defensively.
'Then why won't you just go tell Mum and Dad whatever it is you need to say?'
'I will,' James insisted feebly. 'After I finish this problem...'
'And you're in Gryffindor,' Lily huffed.
James flushed angrily, picking up his quill, and began to scrawl the numbers and symbols on his parchment. 'Bravery's got nothing to do with it,' he muttered. 'Mum and Dad don't need me to add to their worries.'
Lily's brow furrowed. 'Did you fail half your classes and have to repeat your fourth year?' Horror made the pitch of her voice rise.
'No!'
'Then what could be so bad that you can't go talk to Mum and Dad?' Lily pressed. 'Unless you're secretly being recruited by some Quidditch team, as well...'
'No,' James replied wearily. 'I'm not that good.'
'Steal Dad's broom?'
'Has anyone ever told you you're a bloody busybody?' James snapped.
'Yes.' Lily grinned at her oldest brother, unperturbed by his display of temper. She knew the most he would do was leave some sort of mild prank in her bed or eat all the Chocolate Frogs and offer her an empty package.
'Fine...' James' teeth ground together, while he shoved his chair back. Lily wouldn't stop pestering him until he sought out their parents. He approached the open office door with no small amount of trepidation. Low murmurs of conversation and the sounds of quills scratching on parchment drifted out into the sitting room. James reached out and knocked softly against the door frame.
Ginny glanced up from the article she was editing. 'All right, Jemmy?'
'I know you're both busy,' James began, peering into the room, eyes darting from his mother's desk to his father's. 'But I was wondering if I might have a quick word?'
'Absolutely,' Harry said, shoving the folders to the side with palpable relief. He waved at one of the shabby armchairs between the desks. 'Sit, sit...'
James gingerly settled in the chair closest to Ginny. 'It's just my O.W.L. year is coming up and I know they do that Career Advice thing, and I think I've made up my mind already...'
'Okay...' Ginny said slowly, slightly puzzled. She shared a questioning glance with Harry over James' head. 'What is it you think you might want to do?'
James twisted his fingers together. 'I... I... I thought I could go into the shop...' he stammered.
'You do?' Harry asked in evident surprise.
James nodded. 'Yeah.'
'Are you sure?' Harry persisted. 'It's a great deal of hard work.'
James' head nodded vigorously. 'Yeah. I know. That's why I want to work there over the holiday.'
Harry absently rubbed his jaw for several moments. 'All right,' he said. 'We'll go talk to your uncles in the morning.'
'Why?'
'Their shop,' Harry said with a small shrug.
'But you own part of it,' James argued.
Harry's smile took the sting out of his words. 'Yes, but I've always been more of a silent partner. I've never told either Fred, George, or Ron how to run things. And I don't suggest anything without bringing it up to both Ron and George first. And that includes you working with them during the summer.' He pulled a spare sheet of parchment toward him. 'Which classes are you taking next year? They'll want to know.'
'Arithmancy, Charms, Defense, Potions, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Herbology.'
Harry contemplated the list and made a small noise in the back of his throat. 'How attatched are you to Arithmancy?'
James' hopeful expression fell slightly. 'But it'll help in the shop,' he protested weakly.
'It explains proportions of things like spells and potions...'
Harry held up a hand. 'Don't tell me. Tell them. But be prepared for them to ask you to give it up, so you can focus more on Herbology, Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration.'
'Fine...' James sighed. He did enjoy the challenge posed to him by Arithmancy. It provided a welcome diversion from the rest of his classes. He started to rise from the chair, but sank back into its squishy embrace. 'One more thing...'
'Yes?' Ginny's brow arched.
'I want to go help Maya's parents in their pub on Fridays before matches.'
'When do you expect to do your summer homework?' Ginny inquired.
'It's just one day a week, and only for a few hours,' James argued. 'And they won't have to pay me. The regular Quidditch season's ending in a month, anyway, and Falmouth isn't in the running for the European Cup. Maya mentioned they need some help, and I told her I'd ask you if I could...' He looked down at the worn run. 'And I don't want Maya's mum to think I'm some rich, spoiled brat.'
'Does she?' Ginny asked sharply, feeling her hackles rise slightly at the implication
James shrugged. 'Dunno. I know she's still not comfortable with the idea of Maya dating me...' He frowned at his mother. 'I thought you'd be over the moon about this,' he told her.
'Oh, you did, did you?'
'Yeah.' James leaned forward a little. 'Thought you'd be thrilled that at least one of your offspring managed to take all those bloody lectures about how we're supposed to earn what we have,' he said mulishly.
'There's earning your own place, Jemmy, and taking on more than you can handle,' Ginny pointed out. 'You're not even sixteen...'
'Why don't you let your mother and me talk it over, and then we'll let you know tomorrow at breakfast?' Harry suggested.
James' shoulders drooped a little. 'Fine...' He left the office and returned to the kitchen. Lily glanced up at him as he slid into his chair.
'Well?' she asked.
James picked up his quill, and began tapping the point in the margin of his parchment. 'I'm almost sixteen,' he grumbled, 'and Mum and Dad are still treating me like I'm an ickle firstie.' He gave Lily a long look. 'No offense.'
'I'm not an ickle firstie anymore,' Lily sniffed.
James pointed his quill at his sister. 'Just you wait,' he predicted darkly. 'When you want to do something, they're going to find a way to make you slow down,' he sighed. 'No wonder Al went barmy.'
'Doesn't excuse his attitude,' Lily said quickly.
'No, it doesn't,' James allowed, his voice flat. He caught a glimpse of the page Lily had been studying. 'Lils, that's fourth year content...'
'So?' Lily hastily covered the book with her arms.
'But you're only a second year...'
Lily worried her lower lip between her teeth, contemplating her options. She took a deep breth and leaned across the table, whispering in James' ear. 'You can't tell Mum or Dad! Especially Dad!'
James' blue eyes widened. 'They're not going to hear it from me...' he promised. 'Might be easier to play Quidditch, like you've let on, though.'
'Maybe.' Lily slipped a scrap of ribbon into her textbook, marking her place and closed it. 'I'm going to bed.'
Molly Levitated a laundry basket into the garden, and waved her wand at the pile of wet sheets, and they pegged themselves to the washing line. She still wasn't quite accustomed to not having to do copious amounts of laundry every week -- even twenty years after the last of the children had moved out. She moved to the bench next to the kitchen door, and eased down into it, leaning back and stretching her feet out in front of her.
It was a beautiful summer morning. The kind she had loved as a child, and later when she'd been a bit older and Arthur had begun to court her. Strange, then, that so many other happy occasions were beset by temperamental weather. Her wedding day, for instance, was grey and drizzly, but even as tears threatened to overtake her, her mother insisted it was good luck. Charlie was born in a howling snowstorm. Ginny's birth occurred in a freak thunderstorm that left the garden sodden and muddy.
Molly's eyes closed and she tilted her face up to the sunshine. The sound of wings made her open her them and a large screech owl hovered in front of her. A large, bulky parcel dangled from its talons. Molly untied it and the owl swooped through the open kitchen door, and lit on the ancient owl perch in the corner, looking exhausted, now his burden had been lifted. Molly followed the owl into the kitchen and refilled the water dish. She laid the package aside on the dresser, and rummaged for the unopened box of Owl Treats in another cupboard.
The owl's immediate needs seen to, Molly returned her attention to the mysterious package. She picked apart the numerous knots in the twine and spread the brown paper apart, revealing a leather-bound photograph album. Lines between her brows briefly deepened. Molly folded the paper back over the album, searching for the sender's address. It came from an April Prewett in San Francisco. Benjamin's wife... Her curiosity roused even further, Molly took the album to the table and set it in the middle, just so, its corners neatly aligning with those of the table.
Molly slowly took a chair and folded her hands on top of the scrubbed wooden table, hand inching forward until the cover swung open.
A folded piece of paper was tucked inside, and Molly reached for it with numb fingers.
June 20, 2020
Dear Molly,
I hope it's all right if I call you Molly. Ben talked about you the most when he came back home in April. He's said so much about you, and your family, that I feel I know you all. It's a little presumptuous, I'm sure, but I'm not one to stand on ceremony with very many people. I've been told we're somewhat on the casual side here in the States.
Sending the pictures to you was mostly my idea, but persuading Lavinia to make copies of pictures of Ben as a child wasn't very difficult. I've included a few of our children, too.
I don't want you to feel obligated to maintain contact with Ben and me. He mentioned your reaction to his sudden appearance. I get it. I do. It's a little disconcerting to find out you've had a nephew all these years. I just thought having a few of the holes filled, in regards to Ben, would be something you might like.
I really hope I get to meet you one day.
Sincerely,
April Prewett
Molly glanced down at the first photograph. An infant Benjamin stared back at her, cloudy blue newborn eyes with a bemused expression, as if he didn't quite comprehend what had just happened. She stroked the curve of his forehead, following the bright sparkle of his hair.
Page after page of Benjamin. His birthdays. His first day of primary school. On the beach, wrapped up in bulky jumpers, with a laughing, dark-eyed girl at his side. The same laughing girl, dressed in a simple white gown, gauzy veil obscuring her shining, dark hair, standing with Benjamin. Then photographs of Benjamin's own children. They resembled their mother, with her expressive dark eyes, but his son seemed to have his nose, and a reddish tint to his dark brown hair.
And in several photographs was his mother. Lavinia. In the early photos, even through the unbridled joy and wonder of becoming a mother, of having this tangible reminder of Fabian, a shadow of sadness and grief lingered in her eyes. But the pride she obviously took in Benjamin was evident, as was her love for Benjamin on his own, and not strictly for his father's sake.
Molly turned the pages to the back, to the last photograph. April, Benjamin, Leo, and Marissa. She eyed them expertly. 'I'm going to need another set of knitting needles...' she sighed. But there was no resentment in her tone. Rueful undertones colored her voice. At some point she was going to have to enlist some of the others to help make Christmas jumpers. Especially when the grandchildren had children of their own.
Draco unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt, in an effort of expose more of his throat to the cooling breeze that lazily drifted through the open bedroom window. A battered, well-thumbed novel dangled from his fingers, as he stared at the door that led to the bathroom. A bathroom he had shared with Daphne for years. In years past, the doors to the other's bedrooms had been firmly locked, but this summer they were left open and ajar more often than not. They traveled freely between each other's bedrooms, talking, or sometimes sleeping in the same bed. Thanks to the now-unlocked door, Draco heard the faint squeal of the tap turning. He craned his head slightly to the left, peering into the bathroom.
Daphne sat on the edge of the old-fashioned bathtub, her hand held under the running water, testing its temperature, the sleeve of her old silk dressing gown pushed back to her elbow. Draco knew she had newer and nicer ones, but he liked the one she wore now. He liked the way the dusky lavender color brought out the light in her eyes. Not that he'd ever told her that. Perhaps I ought to say something. She untied the belt and shrugged the fabric from her shoulders, then gathered her mane of dark blonde hair into both hands, twisting it into a knot on the back of her head, stabbing a few hairpins into it. Draco's eyes traveled down the expanse of her suddenly bared back. A sharply demarcated line marked the boundary between the honeyed hue of her shoulders and back and the alabaster paleness of the curve of Daphne's bottom. She shifted, turning toward the open door, and Draco's mouth dropped open with shock. When the hell did she sunbathe? And why wasn't she wearing her top?
Draco shook himself, feeling like a pervert. He looked down at the book, interest in the Muggle interpretation of vampires waning. Ordinarily the book was entertaining, but compared with the sight in front of him, vampires weren't nearly as fascinating as his wife's wardrobe choices -- or lack of them -- when she went to the beach in the mornings. Giving up and tossing the book to his bed, Draco left the bedroom in search of distraction.
The terrace beckoned, with its cool breezes, and Draco burst through the French doors, startling Narcissa, who dropped a letter with an enclosed photograph to the floor. 'Is there something the matter?' she asked, retrieving the letter.
Draco cleared his throat. 'N-n-n-no,' he stuttered, stooping to pick up the photograph. 'Who is this?'
Narcissa slipped the letter back into its envelope, and set it aside. 'Do you remember when I told you that your father had a sister?'
'Yes.'
'She survived and emigrated to America. Lives in California.' Narcissa indicated the photograph in Draco's hand. 'It turns out she was pregnant. That is her son, Benjamin.'
Draco tilted the photograph toward the light. 'Do you want to hear something funny?' he mused. 'I saw someone who looked like this with Arthur Weasley.'
'When?'
Draco frowned. 'A couple of months ago. April... at the Ministry.'
Narcissa's lips twitched, but she managed to school her expression into something more neutral. 'I think you might want to sit down,' she advised.
'Why?' Nonetheless, Draco sank into the chair next to his mother's.
'I told you Lavinia was involved with one of Molly Weasley's brothers,' Narcissa began. 'And Benjamin is Molly Weasley's nephew.'
Draco blinked. 'What?'
The corner of Narcissa's mouth did quirk upward then. 'Benjamin's father was Fabian Prewett, so it seems.'
'I'm sorry... What?'
'Your cousin, Benjamin, is related to Molly and Arthur Weasley.' Narcissa found no small amount of amusement in being able to make that statement. While she might not necessarily like either Molly or Arthur, after decades of listening to Lucius declare how deficient they were, it gave her a tiny thrill of pleasure to tell Draco that he was indirectly related to them.
Draco's expression morphed into something that looked as if he had eaten something slightly disagreeable. He began to slowly massage his temples. 'Let me get this straight...' he began in a pained voice. 'All this time, I've been related to them?'
'Only through marriage, in a sense,' Narcissa said cheerfully. 'It's not the end of the world.'
'Of course it is,' Draco argued.
Narcissa leaned forward and laid a placating hand on his arm. 'Things must change, Draco. I thought you had realized that years ago.'
'Just not so much at once,' Draco complained, with only a slight plaintive note to his voice.
Victoire tilted Al's chin up with a finger. 'Look this way, please,' she instructed, shining the lit tip of her wand into his eyes. 'There's a good lad,' she murmured distractedly. 'How do the ribs feel?'
'They hurt,' Al said shortly.
Victoire dug into her bag, and emerged with a small jar. 'Try this. Twice a day.'
Al unscrewed the lid and gave the bright orange ointment a cautious sniff. 'What's it do?'
'Helps with the pain.' She sat back in the chair and examined Al's face in the bright sunlight. 'You certainly look better than you did a few days ago.'
Al's mouth puckered and he glowered at Victoire. 'What did I do that was so wrong?'
'You mean other than behaving like a perfect arse? I can't imagine why everyone's a bit short with you just now,' she responded dryly.
'So that gave everyone the right to beat me to a pulp?' Al snorted.
Victoire stowed her wand in her bag and undid the clip holding her hair back and gathered the glossy reddish-blonde hair into a knot, refastening the clip. 'Humility isn't a weakness,' she said finally.
'So I can't be good at something?'
Victoire chuckled and lifted her heavy bag to her shoulder. 'It's not that, Albie,' she told him, using the despised childhood nickname. 'Take a look at Parker and me. Or even Rosie. We're all disgustingly better at things than most people, but you don't see either of us rubbing other people's noses in it.'
'You're good at book work,' Al scoffed. 'Not the same. This is Quidditch. How many fourteen year-olds do you know that have offers to play professionally?'
'None,' Victorie admitted. 'But still, if you don't get that ego under control, chum, someone will do it for you.' She poked him in his bony chest. 'That's a promise.'
Penelope brushed a strand of hair from her face, and turned in a small circle. Bureau drawers hung open, the wardrobe door was ajar. The bed had been stripped and the quilt folded neatly over the foot. Parker knelt in the middle of the rug, fastening his knapsack -- a gift from Percy. It had been charmed to hold two week's worth of clothes and several books and weigh next to nothing. He could even stuff dirty or soiled clothing into one of the pockets, and the enchantments would freshen them enough to make them bearable until he could launder them. Penny's lips trembled, and she passed a hand over her eyes. 'All right, Mum?' Parker asked in concern.
'Mums don't like to see their children leave is all,' Penny sniffed, smiling. 'I can't help it. I still see you as that little boy who followed his father everywhere.'
'Owls will be able to find me, Mum,' Parker reminded her gently. He stood, towering over her.
'It's not that,' she sighed. Penny wrapped her arms around her oldest son's waist and embraced him tightly. 'I will miss you so very much.'
'Me, too.'
'Are you ready to go?' Percy asked from the door. 'Portkey to New York is set to leave at four thirty-two.' He pointedly checked his watch. 'It's after three right now, and you ought to have been at the Ministry half an hour ago.'
'Dad, don't worry,' Parker told him. 'We'll make it.' He shouldered the knapsack and followed Percy down the stairs. 'Listen, I don't want a big fuss made. I'll be back...'
'No fuss,' Penny promised. 'We're just going to send you off.'
Parker paused, on the verge of Apparating. 'Why does that sound like you're going to make a fuss...?'
Parker allowed himself to be passed from grandparent to aunt to uncle to cousin. Molly handed him a carrier bag laden with enough food for a month. 'You're to send us an owl when you arrive in New York,' she ordered.
'Yes, Grandmum.'
'Don't forget to eat properly,' Molly added, reaching up to pat Parker's cheek.
Arthur clapped the boy on the back, beaming a little. 'You'll do fine, lad.'
And so it went: the hugs and handshakes, the farewells. Before Parker could turn to his parents for the final goodbyes, Harry pressed a small piece of parchment into his hand. 'That's Benjamin's address in San Francisco. He wanted to make sure you got it and the invitation to stay with them.' Harry gave Parker another piece of parchment. 'Those are the names of some of the teachers in Salem's schools in Salem, Roanoke, and St. Louis, too. Michael Carter's arranged for you to stay with them, if you like. Just have to make your way down to Salem, and they'll let the others know. And he's got a guest room in his house in San Francisco, too, if you're more comfortable staying with him, than Benjamin.'
'Thank you,' Parker said sincerely, grateful for the efforts extended on his behalf. He tucked the slips of parchment into his trouser pocket, patting it to make sure they were well-protected. He finally came round to his brothers, crouching in front of them. Patrick, the youngest, threw himself into Parker's arms.
'Don't go...' he sniffled.
'I'll be home next summer,' Parker promised, stroking his baby brother's hair. He angled his mouth near Patrick's ear. 'I left a box of Chocolate Frogs under my bed. Better get it before Mum finds them, yeah?'
'Really?' Light suffused Patrick's small face.
'Really.' Parker looked up at Payton, trying so hard to behave like he was of age, and watching his older brother leave the country for a year or more wasn't an emotional enterprise. 'I'm sorry I won't be able to see you off on the train, Pay.'
The boy shrugged with studied nonchalance. 'It's all right,' he said diffidently, but Parker knew better.
'Make sure Mum takes lots of photos,' Parker instructed. 'She can send them to me.'
'Whatever.' Payton darted forward, gave Parker a hard, glancing hug, then just as quickly scurried to stand behind Percy, who automatically reached back to stroke the boy's head. Payton was taking Parker's leaving much harder than the rest of them. Parker had offered to hold off his trip until after Septetmber first, but Percy and Penny had both known he wouldn't have been satisfied to hang about the house or gambol around London for two months. They had insisted he continue with his journey as planned and leave in early July.
Parker shifted his knapsack as he unfolded himself and his parents stood in front of him. Penny hastily swept her fingertips over her cheeks. 'I expect a great many letters from you,' she told him sternly, her gentle smile belying the tone. 'Tell us everything... Well, perhaps not everything,' she amended, remembering what she'd been like at his age, while glancing sideways at Percy, suppressing a chuckle, remembering what Percy had been like when he was Parker's age. Penny embraced Parker tightly before rising on her toes to press a final kiss to his cheek. 'Do be careful,' she admonished, squeezing his hands before stepping back.
Percy pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his stinging eyes. He fished a packet of parchment from the pocket of his jacket and gave it to Parker. 'Put that somewhere safe.'
Parker looked down at the topmost page and his brows rose. 'Dad... that's too much...'
'Shush,' Percy ordered. 'Your mother and I didn't want you to have to worry about something like money while you were traveling. Just don't spend it all in one place, or on beer and racing brooms, eh?'
Parker felt a smile curve over his face. 'Good one, Dad.'
Percy returned the smile. 'It happens from time to time.' Parker held out a hand and Percy looked at it quizzically before grasping it, then using the outstretched hand to pull Parker toward him, slinging his free arm around his son's broad shoulders. When did he get so tall? In his mind's eye, Percy could still see the slightly befuddled expression on Parker's newborn face as if it were mere days, and not years, ago.
'Three thirty-four Portkey to New York!' called the Ministry official. 'Three thirty-four Portkey to New York!'
Percy reluctantly released Parker and nudged him to the door. Parker took a deep breath and resolutely strode to the doorway. He paused, and turned for one more look at his family -- his parents and brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. All responsible in some way for who he was today. He smiled then -- brightly, hopefully -- and lifted his hand in a wave before he walked through the door.
A/N: I must apologize for the long (really long!) delay between this update and the last. Getting back into the school routine takes some time. And two weeks of workshops before that didn't help the creative juices! lol! Thanks to everyone for your patience.
SEVENTY NINE -- Passage of Time
Maya's mother examined the teenage boy standing in front of her, bearing a slightly hopeful expression on his face. 'Why do you want to come and work here?' she asked, perplexed, still unable to fathom why on earth Harry Potter's son would want to spend his Friday evenings cleaning up after other people.
'Francesca,' murmured her husband warningly. Hugh nudged Francesca with an elbow and gestured with his chin toward Maya, lurking in the doorway. 'You might as well come out, Miss Nosy Parker,' he chuckled. 'All right,' he agreed. 'Every Friday evening that the Falcons are playing in Falmouth until the end of the season,' he told James. 'You'll help with the washing up after the crowd leaves for the game, help serve dinners, and scrub the WCs.' Hugh waited, scrutinizing James' face for any sign of disgust or distaste.
James, for his part, merely nodded. 'Yes, sir,' he said.
'Then you'll start tomorrow. Three o'clock. The players that live here like to have a light meal before the game. And if you can keep from falling all over yourself, you can help with that, as well,' Hugh decided.
James' head bobbed a little. 'Okay.'
Francesca's head shook slowly. 'I still don't quite understand,' she persisted. 'Why?'
'Mum!' Maya whispered, scandalized.
James gave Maya's hand a reassuring squeeze and grinned at her. 'I was taught I had to earn what I had,' he said to Maya's mother. 'I've been changing the sheets on my bed since I started primary school. I can do laundry, if I have to. And I'm not very good at cooking, but I'm not bad at it. My parents wanted to make sure I knew how to at least take care of myself if the need ever came up.
'Like I've told Maya, my mum and dad didn't have much when they were growing up. And neither of them wanted my brother, sister, or me to be some privileged git who thought the world owed us something because of an accident of birth.' He took a deep breath, having delivered the previous statement in a rush, without pausing. 'If you'll excuse me, I'm expected at home soon.' He turned to the pub's large fireplace, pulling out a small pouch that he upended over his hand. James threw the Floo powder into the flames and with a final cheeky grin at Maya, stepped into the fire and vanished in a swirl of bright emerald flames.
Ginny waited on the other side, automatically reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of James' shirt before he could trip over his feet and fall nose-first on the hearth. 'What did they say?' she asked.
James slapped at the soot on his jeans. 'Three tomorrow afternoon,' he told her.
'How did Maya's mother take the proposal?'
James shrugged. 'She's all right, I suppose. Still doesn't understand why someone of my background would want to spend my summer hols doing manual labor.'
'Would you like your dad or me to go chat with her?' Ginny held out a clean handkerchief. 'Spit,' she commanded. James obediently spat into the snowy folds and immediately shrank away when Ginny made to scrub a spot off his nose. 'Oh, honestly,' Ginny muttered, rubbing the damp fabric over James' nose. 'It's your spit, you know.'
'Doesn't make it any less disgusting.' James managed to extricate himself from his mother's grasp. 'And no, I don't want you or Dad running off to talk to Mrs. Hytner, all right? That's the last thing I need -- for you or Dad to go fighting my battles. No thank you.' He shuddered dramatically.
'Oh, all right.' Ginny aimed a light swat at him. 'And as much as I hate to admit it, you're right,' she sighed, then checked her watch. 'All right, Lily's class in the village will end at four. Could you pick her up for me? Your dad ought to be home by five.' Ginny slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced upward. 'And could you try to coax Al from his bedroom this afternoon? I don't think he's left but for meals and baths since... Well...' She blushed and cleared her throat.
'I'll...' James rubbed the back of his neck. 'I'll try,' he muttered. He waited until Ginny was gone, then stomped up the stairs to Al's closed bedroom door. 'Al, come on!' he yelled. When Al's door didn't open, James raised a clenched fist and began to pound on the thick wood. 'Damn it, Albus, open the bloody door!' It opened a mere crack and one bright green eye peered through the miniscule opening.
'You bellowed?'
'Are you planning on coming out by the time the booklists come out? You've spent three weeks holed up in there. Mum's going to have to scour your room when we go back to school. Bloody hell, Al, if you want Mum and Dad to start thinking that you are old enough to do something colossally stupid, like play for England before you're even old enough for an Apparition license, then start acting like it instead of an effing baby.' James whirled around and stalked into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
XxXxXxX
Al pushed the food around his plate, shoving his peas into the mound of mashed potatoes, then smearing the resultant mess into the pool of congealing gravy. He swallowed heavily and set his fork down. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured into his untouched food, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eye. 'May I be excused?' he said, in a louder voice, directing his inquiry toward Ginny. She nodded and Al slid from his chair.
James quickly shoveled the rest of his dinner into his mouth. 'May I be excused as well?' he panted.
'You don't want pudding?' Harry blurted.
'Erm... not tonight...' James darted up the stairs and nearly careened into Al, coming out of the bathroom. 'Nice,' he drawled.
'What was?' Al retorted.
'That show you put on for Mum and Dad. That apology. You didn't mean it. I know it. You know it. All you did was tell them what they wanted to hear.'
Al gazed up at James. 'Me? What about you? What about you going on and on about wanting to work in the shop?' He leaned closer to James. 'We both know you want to go into the shop because you don't have the stones to do anything else. You're too thick to even work for the Prophet. You only wish you had the talent I have in my -- '
James' eyes widened, and he fisted his hands into Al's shirt, hauling his younger brother into his bedroom, kicking the door shut and nearly slamming him into it. 'Take it back!' he hissed. 'Take it back, you effing tosser!'
'I won't! Because you know it's true! You're pathetic.'
'I'm not pathetic!' James growled. He pulled one hand back and nearly punched Al square in the mouth.
'What are you going to do, eh? Punch me? Do it, and when they ask, I'll tell them you used me for a punching bag.'
'You must be off your tits,' James scoffed. 'They'll never believe that.'
'They will. You know how Dad feels about that... And you know how it'll look,' Al said triumphantly. 'After what I did just now, they're going to give me at least one free pass, no?'
James took a step back, chest heaving. 'Get out,' he said evenly. 'Just get out...' He waited until Al left the room, then sank to the edge of his bed, passing a shaking hand over his eyes, startled by how close he had been to punching his own brother. 'Why isn't he in Slytherin?' James murmured.
XxXxXxX
James slid a stack of dirty plates into the hot, sudsy water, but before he could begin scrubbing any of them, Maya shoved a pair of bright yellow washing up gloves in his hand. 'You might want to use those,' she told him.
James wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'I don't think I'll need those,' he said scornfully. 'I've done the washing up before.'
'With water that hot?'
'How hot can it be?' James dipped a cautious finger into the dishwater, then yanked it back, poking it into his mouth for a moment. 'Bloody hell,' he mumbled around his finger. 'What are you trying to do? Boil the dishes?'
'Sanitary regulations.' Maya grinned. 'But if you can't handle it, you can dry them...'
James mouth thinned and he shoved his hands into the gloves. 'Not a damn word,' he growled warningly. 'To anybody.' He snatched the dish cloth from Maya's hand and plunged his gloved hands into the steaming water, and began to scrub the plain, white plates. Maya mouth twisted in a valiant attempt to suppress the smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. She picked up a dish towel from a pile balanced on the kitchen table, and carefully dried the growing stack of plates James left on the drainer.
The Falmouth game played softly on the wireless sitting on a shelf over their heads. Maya glanced at James from time to time, noting the tightness around his mouth. 'Things going all right at the shop?' she asked, sliding a plate onto a stack of clean ones.
James' eyes widened briefly, shaking off the reverie he'd sunk into from the hypnotic rhythm of washing the plates. 'Yeah, fine.'
'Hmmm.' Maya added another plate to the stack and reached for another. 'You just look a bit tired is all.'
James tried to smile at her, but it came off as a pained grimace. 'Just didn't sleep very well last night.'
'Why?' Maya didn't look at him, but kept her eyes locked on the plate in her hands.
James sighed and rested his hands on the edge of the sink. 'Nothing,' he finally muttered. 'Nothing.' He knew Maya would say anything just to make him feel better, and he couldn't help but wonder if Al was right about him.
XxXxXxX
Harry blinked blearily at the edge of his pillowcase. He smiled, waiting for Ginny's arm to snake over his chest and slip into his boxers.
And waited.
And waited.
He frowned, rolling over, and was confronted by the sight of Ginny's empty pillow. 'Gin?' he called softly, hoping she was merely in the bathroom. There was no reply, and he sat up, pushing his glasses on his nose. No light spilled from under the crack of the bathroom door. Harry looked hopefully around the room, peering through the early morning gloom for some hint as to where she was. Groaning, he threw back the quilt and slid out of bed, padding to the door. He crept down the stairs, throwing a cautious look over his shoulder at the children's bedrooms. All their doors were shut, and he couldn't hear any of them stirring. In fact, this morning, Harry was perfectly happy to allow them to sleep as late as they wanted. Ever since that excruciatingly mortifying night when James had alerted him to the fact he, Al, Lily, and Scorpius had overheard Ginny's rather vocal appreciation of his attentions, Harry had been a bit wary of initiating lovemaking while the children were home.
'Gin?'
He rounded the bottom of the staircase. The office door was slightly ajar, which was more than a little odd, since they normally closed it when they went to bed. 'Gin?'
'Harry, will you come in here a moment?' Ginny's quiet voice carried through the small gap.
Mystified, Harry peeked through the opening and felt his jaw drop. Ginny perched on the edge of his desk, clad in an old Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt. It was one of his, bought on impulse just after Al had been born. The scarlet hue was faded, and the rampant lion was now a muddy yellow. The hem was barely mid-thigh and the material was nearly threadbare. And she looked so much better in it than he did. 'Oh...'
'Happy fortieth,' she purred, like she had in his schoolboy fantasies.
'Yeah... thanks...' Harry's breath caught in his throat. She smiled at him, her head tilted to one side. 'Nice shirt,' he said lamely, sidling into the room, closing the door behind him.
'I couldn't think what to get you,' Ginny continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
Harry took a few steps closer. 'You didn't have to get me anything.' He coughed softly, trying to unobtrusively adjust the constricting boxers that had been adequate only moments before.
'I didn't know what would be useful. I mean, what does one get a man who doesn't want for material things? Who keeps clothing for ages,' Ginny added ruefully, fingering the frayed collar of the t-shirt. 'Whose only indulgence is a very fast, and very good broom, but that's been taken care of in the last year.' She slid off the desk and closed the gap between the two of them, tugging the t-shirt over her head, letting it fall carelessly behind her.
Harry's mouth went dry. 'But the children...' he rasped.
'Charmed the office,' Ginny assured him. 'We could play Quidditch in here, and they'd never hear a sound.'
'Brilliant.' Harry's own t-shirt joined the one Ginny had been wearing, followed quickly by the soft flannel boxers. His lips met Ginny's, then trailed down the side of her neck, making her shiver. She loved the feel of his stubble against the tender skin behind her ear. Harry never could understand why she loved it so. He'd once rubbed the inside of his wrist over his face and winced at the chafing sensation. She moaned in pleasure as it abraded her skin.
They dropped to the floor and Ginny gently pushed Harry back, straddling his hips. 'Let me.' She shifted, making a few adjustments, then Harry's breath hissed between clenched teeth. Ginny's fingers laced through his, and she slowly leaned forward, her hair falling around them. Her mouth hovered over his, and she murmured, 'Happy birthday...'
XxXxXxX
'You are frightfully prepared,' Harry chuckled, reaching for his cup of tea.
Ginny stretched, arching a little, then pried the cup from his hand, and taking a sip. 'It helps.'
'When did you put all this in there?' He gestured with his free hand toward the office, then swept over the pajamas they both wore.
'Before you woke up,' she replied. 'I thought we'd make it a leisurely day today. Especially with that party Ron and Hermione seem to feel you need tonight.' Ginny picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the edges. 'And I thought I'd let the kids sleep for a while longer. Until they wake up...'
'With James and Al, that could be nearly noon,' Harry muttered.
'Lily's good until at least nine,' Ginny added, offering the toast to Harry, while she glanced at the small clock on the mantle. 'Couple of hours more to ourselves.'
'Devious,' Harry murmured. 'But I like it.'
'So how does it feel?' Ginny asked. 'Be specific so I know what to expect next year.'
Harry's head fell back against the arm of the sofa. 'I'm forty,' he breathed. 'Forty,' he repeated. 'I am officially twice as old as my parents were when I was born. It takes longer to recover from an all-nighter with the Aurors, and I can still feel it for days after. I can't eat Chocolate Frogs with impunity any more. Makes me queasy if I eat too many. I found more grey hair when I got my last haircut. And yet... I don't feel... I don't feel like I'm any older than I was the day I married you.' He trailed his fingers down the side of Ginny's neck. 'And grateful to be here, on this comfortable sofa, in my Merlin-knows-how-old pajamas, with our children asleep upstairs, and you in my arms, dreading the completely insane amount of people that will be here in twelve hours. Even though Ron and Hermione will be doing all the work with the food and setting things up.' He lifted his head and brushed a kiss over the edge of Ginny's ear. 'I love you.'
'I love you, too.'
XxXxXxX
Ginny shook her head at the small mob gathered in her back garden. Harry had insisted that only family would be invited to the event marking his fortieth year on this earth. There were over forty people there that she could count. Of course, most of them were actually related to the Weasleys, but the rest of the guests had been all but adopted over the years -- McGonagall, Hagrid, Andromeda, Teddy, Neville, Hannah, and now Eric. Luna, Rolf, Lorcan, and Lysander. Harry's first supervisor with the Aurors, Peter, and his wife, Marianne. Dudley, Aaron, and Sarah. Despite Harry's protestations that he didn't particularly need or want for anything, a small pile of gifts took up one end of a table. Ginny didn't need the gift of Sight to know some held coveted classic films that Harry adored, but never remembered to purchase them for himself. Chocolate from Honeydukes or Federers' in Switzerland, which was regarded as the finest chocolatier in the wizarding world. Books, Quidditch tickets. Sometimes jumpers or shirts, as Harry could be quite indifferent about his wardrobe, and often didn't notice things like fraying cuffs and collars until they had been thrown out.
The party was a casual affair. Ron had outdone himself with the food he had set up as a buffet. Knots of giggling children were scattered around the garden. Adults lounged in clusters at small tables or day loungers. James and Maya had managed to string fairy lights through the lower branches of the trees that ringed the garden, and their light cast a soft glow over the party. Harry himself had claimed a chair at a table with Neville and Ron, while Dudley and Aaron sat at the table next to theirs. The five men were deeply engrossed in a conversation. Judging by the earnest expressions on Neville, Aaron, and Dudley's faces and the slightly smug ones on Ron and Harry's, Ginny could only surmise it centered on the joys of parenting toddlers. A smile curved Ginny's mouth at the aura of content Harry radiated.
Hermione's arm slipped around her waist. 'Planning on joining the party sometime soon?'
'Yeah, just watching.'
'Looks happy doesn't he?'
Ginny nodded. 'He does.' She wound an arm around Hermione's waist. 'Thank you for all this. It's the perfect gift for him.'
Harry rose to his feet, face lighting up in a wide smile, greeting the man who loped through the garden gate. Michael Carter tossed a small package on the table with the rest and pounded Harry on the back. 'Hiya, kid!'
Harry flicked his wand at a table and a bottle of beer landed in his outstretched hand. He handed it to Carter and then conjured a chair for him. 'Get something to eat,' he urged.
Carter frowned at the bottle. 'Are ya tryin' to kill me, kid?' Harry chuckled, long used to the older man's penchant for beer served at slightly more than frigid temperatures, and tapped the bottle with his wand. Frost immediately fuzzed the bottle, and Carter took a long pull, lowering the bottle with a sigh. 'Just got off that damn Portkey. Need a drink first. Damn things make me dizzy.' He lowered himself into the chair.
'How are Benjamin and Lavinia?' Harry asked with genuine interest.
'Good. April's tryin' to sweet-talk Ben into bringin' her and the kids over here next summer to meet Molly and Arthur.'
'How's that working out for her?'
Carter contemplated the bottle for a moment. 'Ya know how stubborn you are?'
'Yeah...'
'Multiply that by about five, and ya got Ben. But April's a patient sort. She'll wear him down.' Carter chuckled sympathetically. He reached into the pocket of his blazer for a small package with a card. 'This one's just for the guys.' He slid it across the table to Harry.
Harry opened the card curiously, an eyebrow sweeping up at the picture. A Jolly Roger waved merrily on the front, and when he opened it, the card growled, 'Arrrrrrggghhhh!' A small, black eye patch slid into his palm. 'Erm...'
'If anyone was meant to be a pirate, it's you, kid,' Carter intoned. 'Ya got the scars, and the interestin' back story. All ya need now is some treasure to find.'
Harry carefully settled the eye patch over one eye and peered at Ron. 'Does it suit me?'
'Is this an all-roosters party, or can a couple of hens join?' Ginny asked, a plate of food balanced in each hand. She set one in front of Harry. 'Eat that, or you'll be useless tomorrow.' She tipped Harry's face up with a finger. 'My, that's fetching.'
'Is it?'
'Mmmm. I've got the second part of your birthday present hidden somewhere. Maybe you can wear that while you look for it.'
'Does it resemble the first part?' Harry asked hopefully, somehow managing to leer at the same time.
'Oh, it does,' Ginny assured him, leaning down for a kiss.
Ron gagged. 'Do you have to do that in front of me?' he asked.
'We are married,' Ginny reminded him tartly, settling on Harry's lap.
Harry nuzzled the back of Ginny's neck. 'Where do you think James, Al, and Lily came from?'
Ron's face flushed. 'I like to think you found them under a flutterby bush.'
'Well, it's been... How long has it been since he walked in on the two of you?' Hermione asked Ginny.
'Oh. Lily's just turned twelve, so almost thirteen years,' Ginny mused.
'I'd almost forgotten that,' Ron muttered.
Aaron leaned forward. 'I sense a highly entertaining story.'
'Once upon a time,' Harry began.
'We had two toddlers and were desperate for a weekend alone,' Ginny finished, eyes twinkling merrily.
XxXxXxX
Scorpius trudged into the kitchen of Narcissa's villa. 'Is dinner going to be soon? I'm starved.'
Narcissa nodded toward the tray on the scrubbed wooden table, laden with food. 'I thought we'd eat on the terrace tonight. It's just the two of us.'
'Where's Mother?'
'She and your father are out.'
Scorpius' face scrunched in distaste. 'Really?' He picked up the tray and staggered toward the door. 'Why?'
Narcissa followed with a basket of bread. 'Because they want see if there's anything to salvage.'
'Things were fine before,' Scorpius argued.
Narcissa set the basket on the table on the terrace. 'Self-absorption is such a hallmark of the young,' she said lightly. 'But both of your parents are mature enough to understand that even if they were to end their marriage, it would be best to do so on amicable terms.'
'I guess.' Scorpius dropped into one of the chair and arranged stalks of asparagus on his plate. 'You're not going to try and talk me into some sort of reconciliation, are you?' he asked suspiciously.
'Me? No.' Narcissa slid a piece of fish onto Scorpius' plate. 'I would never dream of asking you to do something you so obviously do not wish to do.'
'Thank you.'
Narcissa spooned a delicate lemon sauce over Scorpius' fish. 'Besides, you're too much like your father for me to insist you do anything of the sort.'
Scorpius fork clattered nervelessly to his plate, mouth working like a landed fish. 'What?' he spluttered.
Calmly, Narcissa added fish to her own plate and smiled gently at Scorpius. 'You are determined to view the world in stark hues of black and white. Just as he did. Eventually, you'll learn to see the shades of grey that exist. I just hope it's sometime before your fortieth birthday.' She began to eat her meal, and the only sound was of her cutlery scraping against the plate.
Scorpius suddenly pushed his plate aside and stood. 'I don't believe I'm hungry just now,' he announced stiffly. His face crumpled in dismay, and the formal mask vanished. 'I can't believe you just compared me to him!' he almost shouted, before stalking into the villa.
Narcissa bit her lip, trying to stifle the soft laugh. 'As if I needed any more evidence.'
XxXxXxX
Draco settled into the seat, a petulant expression on his face. 'Why did you want to come here?'
'Because it's fun,' Daphne sighed.
'But there are Muggles everywhere!'
Daphne snorted. 'Didn't seem to be an issue when we went to Piccadilly,' she said pointedly. 'And shush. Do you want everyone to hear you?'
Draco's eyes darted around the rapidly filling hall. 'What is it exactly?'
'Ballet.'
'And...?'
'And they dance.'
'Just dance?' Draco's brows drew together. 'Nothing else?'
'Just dancing.'
'How am I supposed to know what's going on?' Draco complained.
Daphne thrust a program toward Draco. 'There's a synopsis in there,' she said through gritted teeth. Draco took the program, and instantly began to flip through it, studiously avoiding Daphne's gaze. 'You'll be able to follow it quite well,' she told him, her tone softening. 'And at the very least, just sit back and watch. They'll tell the story.'
Presently, the lights dimmed and the curtain parted, revealing a lone dancer on the stage. Draco sighed and prepared to try and do anything to keep himself awake. He didn't think he was going to enjoy the performance nearly as much as Daphne believed. He didn't want to disappoint her, either.
His boredom lasted until a ballerina dressed in white, crowned with a bandeau of feathers, came onstage. Desperate longing broadcast from every cell of her body, followed by bittersweet hope, then fear when her tormentor soon arrived. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he leaned forward slightly, engrossed in the spectacle before him.
Daphne had greeted the beginning of the performance with more than a little apprehension that Draco would want to leave during the intermission. She alternated between watching the dancers and watching Draco. The second Odette made her entrance, his entire demeanor changed. Many times, his mouth formed a perfect "O" of awe. What was even more fascinating, he seemed completely unaware of his reactions, even gasping when Siegfried and Odette flung themselves into the lake, ending their lives. After the house lights arose, he looked away from Daphne for several long moments, while he collected himself. Draco cleared his throat, then reached for her hand. 'Let's go, shall we?'
Daphne wound her wrap around her shoulders. 'Did you like it?'
Draco hesitated for a moment. 'Yes. I did.' He cupped Daphne's elbow in one hand, ushering her to the lobby. 'Could we see another one?'
'I think so.'
'That would be nice.' Draco paused before they joined the throng outside the theatre. 'I've really liked doing this... spending the time with you.'
'So have I.'
XxXxXxX
Harry trudged to his office Monday morning, yawning. The idea of a nice holiday sounded more than appealing. Perhaps after the children returned to school, he and Ginny could go somewhere for a week or so. Get out of England and find a nice hotel with room service and extraordinarily fluffy towels, and not think about their jobs, their children, or any of their various responsibilities.
The sight of a piece of parchment fixed to his door made him stop.
The beatings will continue until morale improves, proclaimed the sign. A small, neatly drawn Jolly Roger fluttered underneath. It was written in Hermione's round hand. Harry moved to remove it, but stopped. He shrugged and left it on the door. As tense as things had been since Dudley was stabbed, they could all use a laugh. That was an important lesson learned that he never forgot. Nor would he.
XxXxXxX
A/N: A few things...
First, the dialogue for Ginny's, erm... present to Harry is inspired by the dialogue in Deathly Hallows, pg. 115-116, Scholastic paperback edition.
Second, I have to give credit to one of my former students for Carter's description of Harry as a pirate. That was all Alex.
Third, Daphne and Draco saw Swan Lake.
And lastly for my non-British readers... "off [one's] tits" means high.
EIGHTY -- Grand Gestures
Ginny glanced at her watch, and muffled a stinging oath, as she stuffed several scrolls of parchment into her battered and well-worn bag. She slung the scuffed leather strap over her shoulder and darted out of her office, nearly running for the lift on the other side of the floor. She frantically punched the button, dancing impatiently on her toes. 'Come on...' she muttered. She'd promised Harry she would only go into the office long enough to sort out the Quidditch stories going into the Sunday edition of the Prophet, but the task had taken more of her time than she'd believed. Harry had mostly hidden the disappointment that she had to work on their wedding anniversary, but it couldn't be helped. The Quidditch season would start soon, and Sunday's edition featured a splashy spread on the Montrose Magpies, the current European champions.
The lift doors opened and Ginny nearly leapt into it, index finger automatically pressing the button for the ground floor repeatedly until the doors closed. The ride down the four floors felt interminable, and at last, Ginny arrived at the ground floor. One Apparition later, and she slammed through the garden gate and skidded to a stop at the back door of the house.
Ginny took a moment to take several deep breaths, and run a hand over her hair in an effort to tidy it before she went into the house.
Bright red rose petals were sprinkled on the threshold of the kitchen. An envelope with an ornate inscription of, "Open Me," floated at eye-level. Ginny let the bag slide to the floor while she plucked the envelope from its place and opened it. A pair of pearl earrings slid into her waiting palm. The pearl studs Harry had given to her that first long-ago Christmas, during her last year of school. Harry had given her other pieces of jewelry over the years, but Ginny always returned to this pair of earrings. She'd worn them during her first press conference as a member of the Harpies' reserve squad. On her wedding day. The team interview when they'd played for the European Cup. The day she announced her retirement from professional Quidditch. Her interview with the Prophet. Every Ministry affair and party. Ginny tilted her head to one side, then the other, as she fastened the studs into her ears, then followed the path of rose petals out of the kitchen.
The scarlet trail led up the stairs and into their bedroom. A dress hung from the slightly ajar wardrobe door -- one of Harry's favorites -- a deep green silk frock that he claimed framed her collarbone perfectly. Another piece of floating parchment exhorted her to change, and in much tinier letters, to be quick about it. Smiling, Ginny grabbed the dress, and slipped into the bathroom to have a quick wash and let the dress slither over her heated skin. She debated with herself for a moment, and twisted her hair into a loose chignon.
She returned to the bedroom, and searched for the shoes that would not only go with the dress, but wouldn't pinch her toes. She turned at the sound of a soft, nearly soundless pop and watched as a small bouquet of calla lilies, their stems bound together with a single gold-edged red ribbon, were set just on the foot of the bed. Ginny bit her lip, blinking back the sudden sting of tears, as she reached out and lightly stroked a creamy white petal. It was a replica of the bouquet she'd carried on their wedding day twenty years ago.
'Do you like them?' asked a familiar, yet disembodied voice from the doorframe.
Ginny scooped up the flowers and cradled them in her arms. 'They're lovely. Thank you.'
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his head, ruffling his dark hair. 'Not as lovely as the person holding them,' he told her.
'Oh, stop,' Ginny demurred, blushing, but smiling all the same. She studied Harry, dressed in a dark suit with a shimmering blue tie. 'You look nice, too. What's the occasion?'
'James is with George and Katie for the night. Lily's at Ron and Hermione's. And Albus is with your mum and dad.' Harry strode across the floor and gently tugged Ginny's free hand until she stood in front of the cheval mirror in front of him. 'I think there's something missing, though...'
Perplexed, Ginny gazed at her reflection. 'I do seem to be missing shoes,' she quipped.
Harry held up a hand, a necklace twined around his fingers. 'How about this?'
Ginny's eyes darted to the image reflected in the mirror. Harry draped the necklace around her throat and carefully fastened it, letting his hands slide to Ginny's bare shoulders. Her fingertips grazed the baroque pearls separated by delicate silver links of a chain. 'It's...' Her cheeks flushed. 'Beautiful.'
'I'd thought about getting something to match those earrings,' Harry told her. 'But nothing ever seemed quite right for you. Found this about six months ago. Been saving it for our anniversary.'
Ginny frowned, mentally reviewing a tidbit of long-forgotten information. 'I thought the twentieth anniversary was china, not pearls.'
'There will be china on the table at the restaurant,' Harry replied.
'Oh, well. In that case...' Ginny turned and rummaged in the wardrobe, until she had located a pair of shoes that wouldn't make her regret wearing them, and grabbed the heavy, silk wrap she usually used at the Ministry ball every summer. 'Shall we?' she asked, holding out a hand.
Harry grasped the hand she offered, and kissed the fingertips. 'Yeah.'
XxXxXxX
Ginny smirked slightly at their surroundings, letting the wine slide down the back of her throat. 'You do realize this is all just the tiniest bit twee, don't you?'
Bemused, Harry glanced around the small bistro a French Auror had recommended. It was cozy and dark, with candles on the tables. Discreet waiters hovered nearby, while a musician tucked away in a corner provided suitably romantic music. The window held a view of the Eiffel Tower. 'I thought you liked this sort of thing...'
Ginny laughed softly. 'I do. Doesn't make it any less twee. It's like something out of those novels that I pretend I don't hide behind the towels in the airing cupboard.' She reached across the table and grasped Harry's hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. 'I never thought you'd voluntarily go for something like this. It's not something you like particularly.'
'But you do,' Harry countered. A slow smile spread over his face. 'And I like making you happy.' He twisted his hand so he now cradled Ginny's, thumb caressing over her wedding rings. 'Would you change anything?'
Ginny's fingers curled over Harry's. She inhaled slowly, the past twenty years playing through her mind. The births of their children. The enforced separations because of his work. The enforced separations because of her Quidditch career. The turmoil the war still wrecked on their lives. Trying to raise the children in as normal a life as possible. The feeling that they were somehow attempting to swim against an oncoming tide that was relentless in its journey forward. But to change it? Ginny couldn't have foreseen this day twenty years ago, but she could no more imagine changing anything about their life together than she could imagine trying to change Harry. 'No.'
'Think you can put up with me for another twenty years?'
Ginny pulled her hand from Harry's and laid it gently over his cheek. 'Yes.'
XxXxXxX
Harry tapped the doorknob of the back door of the house with his wand, and gestured for Ginny to precede him. Ginny paused long enough to pry the shoes off her feet and drop them next to the door. She could retrieve them in the morning. Harry let the jacket slide from his shoulders and he draped it over the banister of the staircase. He followed Ginny up the stairs, and into their bedroom. One arm wound around Ginny's waist as he began to press kisses against the side of her neck. Ginny's head tilted to give him freer access. She reached up and slowly pulled the pins from her hair, one by one. The chignon unraveled, tendrils of hair brushing over Harry's face. His head moved slightly, nuzzling the back of Ginny's neck, breathing in the familiar, but no less intoxicating for it, flowery scent of her hair. This scent, more than any other, made him dizzy with more than need or desire.
One of Harry's hands sought the zipper of Ginny's dress. He slowly lowered the zipper until he was able to gently push the dress off her shoulders. It slipped first to her hips, caught for a moment, then slid down her legs, landing in a pool at her feet. She lifted her arms to unclasp the pearls, but one of Harry's hands closed over her wrist. 'Leave them on,' he whispered hoarsely. He traced the pear studs in her ears. 'Those, too.' He lowered his mouth to the area behind her ear, hand sliding down her neck, over her shoulders, then back up the sensitive skin inside her arm, leaving tiny shivers in its wake. Ginny's hand twined in Harry's hair. Her fingers tightened briefly, as his fingertips brushed over the delicate skin inside her upper arm, returning to her shoulder, then wandering lower, molding the curves and hollows he knew so well.
Harry could navigate her body blindfolded, fingertips tracing over the subtle and not-so-subtle changes childbirth had wrought. Ginny turned in his arms and leaned back a little to examine him. 'I think someone has too many clothes on,' she commented, tugging at the knot in his tie. The silk loosened with a soft rasp. She nimbly unbuttoned Harry's shirt, while he shrugged if off. Ginny couldn't see the scars he bore in the darkened bedroom, but her hands skimmed over them with unerring accuracy -- the old ones that had faded into dim shadows of what they once were and the new one that still stood out in relief to the surrounding skin. Faint stubble roughened his jaw line, and Ginny rose on her toes to rub her cheek against it, abrading her skin.
She wrapped her fingers around Harry's belt and pulled to the bed.
They didn't need to speak, beyond murmured words of encouragement or approval. But then again, after twenty years of sharing a bed and a life, words weren't necessary.
XxXxXxX
Ginny levitated a large tray containing their breakfasts, tea, and the Sunday Prophet. It was the kind of Sunday morning routine they'd had in the early days of their marriage. Aside from lunch with the rest of the family at the Burrow, Sunday was the one day of the week they tried to keep for themselves, free from the pressures and influences of work. Even after the children's births, they managed to steal a weekend here and there for themselves. Before she shouldered the bedroom door open, Ginny slid a thumb under the Prophet, checking that Harry's gift was still hidden under it. She directed the tray to the top of the bureau, then bent over the bed, running her fingertips down the side of Harry's face, until his head jerked away and he squinted up at her. 'Wha' time is i'?' he asked grumpily.
'Almost ten.'
Harry haphazardly poked his glasses on his nose and attempted to glare at his wife, but the effect was quite spoilt by the riotous halo of hair that erupted in peaks and valleys from his head. Ginny merely giggled, patted his cheek, and clambered onto the bed, crawling over Harry's knees. She Summoned the tray and settled it in front of her crossed legs and poured tea for each of them. Ginny handed Harry a cup, then a plate of toast, and a small, flat package. Harry, still in a haze, gazed blankly at the package, hovering under his nose. 'What's that?'
'Your gift.'
Harry reached around Ginny and set the toast, then the tea on the tray, then plucked it from her fingers. He pried the lid off and parted the tissue paper. 'You didn't have to get anything...' he muttered.
Ginny rolled her eyes, and nudged his thigh. 'You didn't have to get me anything, either,' she reminded him. Harry grunted and looked down at the parchment nestled in the folds of the tissue paper.
'Rome...' he breathed.
'We've talked about going to Rome since before Al was born,' Ginny said wistfully.
Harry lifted the Portkey tickets from their nest and studied them. 'Two weeks in October?' he asked doubtfully.
Ginny nodded. 'It'll be lovely and warm. Sunny,' she wheedled, in an attempt to persuade Harry going to Rome for two weeks in October was a marvelous idea. 'It can be the honeymoon we never had a chance to take...'
Harry's eyes flicked up from the tickets balanced in his palm to Ginny's somber face. 'Gin...'
'It was my fault we didn't have the chance to go when we were first married,' Ginny continued, as if Harry hadn't spoken. 'I thought, sure, we could have the wedding in the off-season, and go away for a few days, but I was afraid if we went anywhere for longer than that, I'd lose my position and --' The tide of words was stemmed by Harry's hand landing over Ginny's mouth. Her eyes narrowed dangerously over the edge of his calloused palm.
'Is that look supposed to scare me?' Harry scoffed. 'Might work on the children, but I'm immune to your looks,' he declared. 'Now then,' he said, settling against the pillows stacked behind his back and retrieved his abandoned tea. 'It wasn't just Quidditch training. It was also my job that prevented us from going anywhere longer than a few days after the wedding,' he reminded her. 'Then we had James, then Al, then Lily. And in all the confusion of attempting to keep up with Teddy and the three of them...' Harry shrugged. 'Either way, it doesn't much matter now.' He snagged a piece of toast and nibbled the edges.
Ginny's mouth dropped open in outrage. 'That's it?' she spluttered.
One of Harry's brows rose slightly. He tugged Ginny's wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and flicked it wordlessly at the tray, Banishing it to the bureau. He captured Ginny's wrists in his hands, rolling them both over, so he pinned her to the mattress, arms extended over her head. 'Two carefree weeks in Rome with you? After the children, it's the best gift you've ever given me.' He transferred both of Ginny's wrists into one hand, and used the other to push the dressing gown from her shoulders. His head dipped to the exposed skin, tongue flicking desultorily over it, making Ginny squirm. 'I love it. And I am thrilled that we're finally going to Rome.' His mouth roamed over her collarbone, to the column of her neck, and grazed over her mouth. 'Thank you,' he said sincerely.
XxXxXxX
Daphne gently untangled herself from Draco, easing from her bed so she didn't wake him. He kept his separate bedroom out of habit, but sought her bed more and more, claiming he slept better. They were due to return to England soon, and even the realization that they were to begin preparations to make that journey was enough to dim the slight light in Draco's eyes. Daphne didn't wonder why Narcissa remained in Nice for the most part, preferring to only go back to England for a week or two at a time. While Draco still had surveillance from the French Ministry, the distance from England made it feel less oppressive. She would let him sleep for a while longer.
She splashed a little water over her face to chase the last of the sleepy cobwebs away, then lifted her dressing gown from a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Daphne felt no need to dress for what had often proved to be a solitary cup of tea and plate of toast on the terrace with a book for an hour or two before the others were awake. And after breakfast, she would retreat to the shore, indulging herself in a little sunbathing and quick swim in the sea. As Daphne slipped from the bedroom, she drew the comfortably shabby dressing gown over her arms and shoulders, and made her way into the villa's kitchen.
Scorpius was huddled into a chair at the small table in the corner, stolidly munching his way through a bowl of cereal. Daphne moved about the kitchen with the ease of familiarity, preparing tea. 'Good morning,' she told Scorpius. He grunted in reply. She blew a breath out through her nose, and maintained the grip she had on her temper. 'Something bothering you?' she asked mildly.
The spoon clattered in the bowl. 'I'm nothing like him!' he declared.
'I beg your pardon?' Daphne asked in confusion.
'Grandmother said I was like him,' Scorpius said in an accusatory tone.
Daphne blinked several times. 'Explain,' she said shortly. Scorpius gave her a look of utmost disbelief. 'Oh... Right.' She poured tea into a waiting cup and carried it to the table, where she took the seat across from Scorpius. 'I think she merely meant to say that until something challenges your worldview of the way things ought to work, you're rather stubborn about it.' She cradled the cup between her palms, letting the warmth seep into her skin. 'I know he hasn't been very attentive to you, but I'm going to ask that you give him... Give him some time.'
Scorpius hooted in derision. 'He's had fourteen years,' he scoffed. 'Am I supposed to give him fourteen more years to decide I'm worth his time and effort?'
'That isn't quite the issue,' Daphne began, but was cut off by Scorpius' sudden movement.
His chair scraped discordantly across the floor. 'I've only got three more years until I'm of age, Mother. And then I can...' He paused, then hastily stood and marched to the sink with his empty bowl without another word.
'Until you can what, Scorpius?' Daphne asked quietly.
The boy's lips pressed together, but he shook his head. 'Never mind, Mother.' He began to stalk from the kitchen, but her soft voice was as effective as a Stunning charm.
'Scorpius.'
Scorpius stopped, one hand on the door, looking at his mother expectantly.
Daphne heaved a sigh, and set her cup on the scuffed table. 'I promised you this... thing... with your father wouldn't change my relationship with you,' she reminded him.
The skin around Scorpius' eyes tightened briefly, but he nodded once, then banged out of the kitchen, leaving Daphne alone with the idea that perhaps it had changed the way she and her son were able to relate to one another.
XxXxXxX
Hermione dropped into a day lounger next to Harry. 'Hi, Harry,' she chirped.
Harry cracked open an eyelid and promptly shut his eye once more. 'Hiya.'
Hermione snorted with mirth. 'Good weekend, I take it?'
Harry didn't reply, but allowed a slow smile to spread over his face.
'Can I talk to you for a bit?' Hermione asked.
'Work or personal?'
'Work.'
Harry sat up with a sigh. 'Go ahead...'
'Two months ago, someone approached me about publishing a textbook,' she began, with only a slight whisper of the nervousness that accompanied a delicate topic she used to display as a student.
'Oh?' Harry gazed at her curiously. Textbook publishing wasn't something that fell under the auspices of the Auror Department.
'Potions, actually,' Hermione babbled. 'I've spent the last two months looking over it and it seems all right, but it does need the approval of Kingsley, the Wizangamot, and...' She took a deep breath, and added in a small voice. 'You.'
Harry ran a hand over his face. The prospect of a holiday in Rome was looking more and more appealing. 'Why?'
Hermione chewed a fingernail worriedly. 'It's Draco Malfoy...'
Harry blinked. 'What?'
'It's really good, actually,' Hermione said, a bit defensively. 'The potions are age appropriate, sequenced in a logical order, so what you learn with a previous lesson carries into the next one. And he even cross-referenced potions ingredients based on what we use them for. It's quite thorough.'
'I have no doubt,' Harry murmured. 'And he wants to have this published?'
'Yes, Harry,' Hermione said testily. 'Do keep up.'
'Not under his own name, of course,' Harry surmised.
Hermione's head shook. 'No. He wants permission to use a pseudonym.'
'That shouldn't be a problem,' Harry mused. 'Have you presented it to the Wizengamot yet?'
'I think it would be best if you, Kingsley, and I were to present it to them as a united front.'
'Could you bring a copy to me in the morning?' Harry began to piece an idea together. 'I've got a couple of trainees and young Aurors who didn't manage to scrape together more than an Acceptable on their Potions N.E.W.T. I know at least one of them struggled through Potions for their entire time at Hogwarts. And if this book is as good as you say...'
'What about Teddy?' Hermione suggested. 'I seem to recall his marks in Potions were... erm...' Her cheeks grew pink.
'Abysmal?' Harry chuckled. 'It didn't matter what we said or did with Teddy. He never quite grasped Potions.' He thoughtfully examined Teddy flying in low swoops over the paddock. 'Can't hurt,' Harry agreed. 'And he won't mind being asked to look over it.' He stretched elaborately, and stood. 'And on that note, I hereby refuse to talk about work until tomorrow morning.' He strolled to the stone wall, climbing over it to join the others in dividing into teams to play a leisurely game of Quidditch.
XxXxXxX
The train hurtled through the countryside, filled with the clamor of dozens of teenagers renewing their acquaintances with each other. Girls squealed in high-pitched glee to see their yearmates. Boys attempted to maintain their nonchalant façade, unsuccessfully suppressing their smiles under a gruff exterior. In one compartment, two boys sat in unaccustomed silence.
Somehow, Al and Scorpius had managed to find an empty compartment for themselves. They sprawled across their respective seats, opposite one another, glumly staring out the window at the rushing scenery.
Scorpius wasn't unaware of what had happened to Al at the hands of his uncles. Lily had written to him about that unfortunate game that had humiliated Al and between the two of them, discussed it and its ramifications for Al. Al himself had kept a fairly regular correspondence with Scorpius throughout the summer holiday, but he never mentioned the Quidditch match. Scorpius felt the letters he'd received from Al bordered on the perfunctory "everything's-fine-how-are-things-with-you" variety.
Several times, Scorpius opened his mouth to speak, to ask Al about the game, but lost his nerve. It wasn't until the witch with the tea trolley came and went, leaving them with a small heap of pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs, and licorice wands that Al abruptly turned away from the window. 'How was your summer?'
Scorpius blinked, considering the cauldron cake he held loosely in one hand. Should he talk about his conversations with both his mother and grandmother, or ought he to keep it to himself for now? He wasn't certain Al would listen just now. Scorpius imagined he must have still been smarting from the thrashing he'd received at the hands of his uncles. It was unusual for Al to cling to a grudge for this long. In the end, Scorpius settled for a murmured, 'Fine.' He broke off the edge of his cake. 'Yours?' he couldn't resist adding, despite the fact Al had sent an owl at least once a week.
Al's skinny shoulder jerked. 'Fine,' he muttered, his forehead resting against the glass of the window. 'I can't wait for the Quidditch to start,' he said, baring his teeth in a slightly feral smirk. He said something else, too soft for Scorpius to hear, but the other boy could have sworn Al had said, 'I'll show them what I can do...'
It sent chills up Scorpius' spine.
XxXxXxX
Draco cast a worried eye at the rolling ominous clouds, wincing slightly at the faint rumble of thunder. His hand tightened around Daphne's. 'We'd best go back before...' A drop of rain struck his cheek. 'It starts to rain,' he sighed resignedly.
Rain began to fall rapidly, coming down in sheets, soaking through their clothes. Daphne laughed softly. 'I think it might be a little too late for that,' she told him, starting to run, towing a reluctant Draco behind her, feet sliding a little in the wet grass.
Draco pulled back, digging his heels into the turf, calling out a warning. 'Daphne, you're going to...' Her feet slid out from under her and Daphne fell to the grass with a wet splat, arms flailing. 'Fall...' Draco grunted, as he tumbled next to her. She laughed even harder, arms outstretched against the ground, at the sight of the normally impeccably dressed Draco splattered with mud, hair falling wetly into his eyes, clothes plastered to his body. 'It's not that funny,' Draco said indignantly. 'Stop laughing.' He sat up glaring at Daphne. 'Stop laughing!' he ordered. It only made Daphne's giggles escalate into outright whoops of glee. Huffing testily, he swooped down and kissed her soundly, fingers twining through her upturned hands. Draco lifted his head a little and stared at Daphne for a long moment before he scrambled to his feet and held out a hand to her. Daphne gave it a calculating look, before she accepted it and he hauled her to her feet.
They dashed into the house, through the French doors and stood for a moment, dripping on the rug. Almost fearfully, Draco's hand inched up to the top button of Daphne's shirt. Trembling, he carefully slid the button through the buttonhole, glancing at her face. His hands drifted to the next one, then the next, until he could push and tug the wet fabric from her arms and shoulders. Daphne reached for Draco's buttons and aped his actions, but when she tried to push the shirt off his shoulders, he pulled away. 'Why?' Daphne asked softly.
'I don't want you to see,' he said painfully, his right hand closing tightly over his left forearm. Daphne took a steadying breath, and one by one, pried his fingers away from his arm. Draco visibly tensed, but made no move to stop her in the face of Daphne's determination. As she peeled the shirt from his body, the harsh sounds of his breath began to fill the room. She held his arm out toward the flickering light spilling from the fireplace.
'You can't see it,' she told him gently.
'You can,' Draco insisted, eyes squeezed shut, face turned away. He wasn't expecting what occurred next. Daphne's head bent, her wet hair brushing over the skin of his bared forearm, lips moving delicately over the nearly invisible scar of his tattoo.
'You can't,' Daphne murmured, straightening and cupping his jaw with one hand, turning his head, so she could meet his gaze. 'There's nothing to be afraid of, Draco.'
He gulped, and allowed one hand to rest lightly over her collarbone, lighter than butterfly wings. Oh yes there is... he mused to himself, then didn't think of anything else other than the sensation of his wife's body in his arms.
EIGHTY ONE -- A Thin Line Between Love and
A/N: I'd like to apologize for the large gap of time between updates on this one, but the past few months have been a bit busy (okay, a lot busy), and I know many of you wish I'd update faster (so do I!), but sometimes real life intrudes and most of you know I would rather produce something of the quality you're used to reading, than throwing something together for the sake of posting. Hopefully the gaps between updates won't be as long.
xxxxxx
Draco stretched luxuriating in the feel of crisp cotton sheets against his naked body. His eyes flew open, stunned, as one hand collided with Daphne's bare hip. His head whipped around on the pillow. Daphne sprawled next to him, dark blonde hair fanned over her pillow, cheeks flushed rosily with sleep. Draco's nose twitched at the intoxicating aroma clinging to the sheets. Images began to flood his brain...
The gentle, almost tentative kisses quickly grew urgent. Nimble fingers turned clumsy as attempts to remove sodden clothing became frantic.
Wet clothes didn't slither and slip from a person's body. He'd had to peel away the rest of Daphne's clothes. He thought she would be chilled, but her skin was quite warm to the touch. He stumbled, dizzy and sank to hi knees on the plush rug, face pressed to her middle, arms winding around her waist
xxxxxx
Daphne's back arched and one leg, then the other slowly wrapped around Draco's hips. She cried out softly. Draco trailed the fingers of one handover her face. 'Did I hurt you?'
'Daphne shook her head. 'Mmmmm. No, but I'll hurt you if you stop.' Her hips surged upward, making her meaning clear. Draco obliged, in awe of the variety of noises Daphne was capable of making.
xxxxxx
Daphne roused from a light doze to Draco's hands roaming over her body. She pushed her tangled hair from her face, and threw a leg over his, shifting until she straddled him. The bedding slipped from her shoulders, crumpling to her waist, catching briefly on the arc of her hips, then slid away completely, leaving her exposed to Draco's heavy-lidded gaze. 'Do you trust me?' she asked, her quiet voice piercing the dimly-lit room. Unhesitatingly, Draco nodded.
xxxxxx
Daphne mewed softly, heavily rolling over, pressing herself to Draco. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smirked at him in satisfaction. 'Morning,' she murmured.
Draco fingered a lock of hair from her face and cleared his throat. 'I trust you slept well.'
Daphne chuckled throatily. 'When I did manage sleep. You?'
'I did, thank you.'
Daphne lifted her head from Draco's chest. 'What time is it?'
Draco peered over her head, searching for the clock that normally sat on the small night table next to her side of the bed. 'Where's the clock?'
Daphne sat up, and leaned over the edge of the foot of the bed. 'It's over here.' She reached for the softly ticking object, lying drunkenly on its side.
Draco frowned. 'How did it get over there? It's usually over there...' He gestured toward Daphne's side of the bed.
Daphne twisted to face him, the clock clutched in her hands. 'Well, if you don't know...' She turned the clock over. 'Almost noon,' she said in amazement.
Draco lunged for the clock. 'It is not,' he protested, arguments dying in his throat as he stared down at the clock.
'Are you hungry?' Daphne asked, combing her fingers through her hair. Draco's stomach rumbled noisily, gurgling in anticipation of a meal. 'I suppose that answers my question.' Draco flushed in mortification. Daphne giggled and slipped from the bed, quite unconcerned with her nudity. She stooped, moving aside the duvet, which had fallen to the floor, affording Draco an unobstructed view of her derrière.
'As much as I enjoy the view,' Draco began, 'might one inquire...?'
Daphne straightened, clutching an armful of violet silk. 'Like anything else that was on the bed, or in its vicinity, when we got into it last night this,' she held up her dressing gown, 'seems to have fallen to the floor.' She shrugged the dressing gown over her shoulders. 'I thought I'd try and cobble something together for breakfast... lunch...' She perched on the dainty chair in front of the vanity and picked up a well-used hairbrush and drew it through her hair, carefully teasing out the knots. When she could make even strokes through her hair, she tossed the brush back to the vanity and made her way to the door.
'Aren't you going to dress?' Draco asked.
Daphne paused, one hand on the door. 'I wasn't planning on doing so.'
'But...'
'But what?' Daphne tossed her head. 'Perri's still on holiday, so it's just the two of us. Why bother?' She continued out the door. 'Don't take too long to join me, hmmm?' she called over her shoulder, leaving Draco sitting in the middle of the rumpled bed.
The curtains over Daphne's bedroom windows were open. The previous night's rain had left Wiltshire sparkling and refreshed. Clear late summer light poured through the windows. Curiously, Draco turned his arm over, the index finger of his right hand tracing the lines of the Dark Mark inside his left forearm. The sunshine illumined the slivery tracings of the old tattoo. He flattened his palm over the Mark
Despite what Daphne had said, he could still see it clearly.
xxxxxx
Draco closed the door to Andrew's office, visibly agitated. Andrew studied him, face betraying nothing. Draco almost never displayed heightened emotions, even in the most impassioned of revelations. Before Andrew could say a word, Draco stripped off his jacket, and threw it over the arm of a chair. He pulled the silver cufflink from the sleeve of his shirt and yanked it back. 'What do you see?' he demanded.
'What am I supposed to see?'
'Could you just answer the bloody question?' Draco held his arm out to Andrew. 'What do you see?' he repeated. 'And for God's sake, give me a straight answer and not that circular shite that forces me to indulge in self-examination.'
'Very well.' Andrew drew his wand and lit it, holding it over Draco's arm. The narrow beam of light swept slowly up Draco's exposed skin. Andrew leaned closer. 'I know from your records, you received Voldemort's Mark as a boy,' he murmured. 'But...' He turned Draco's arm toward the large window. 'If you look closely, you can see traces of it, but it's hard to see, unless you have bright light.'
'I can see it.' Draco pushed his sleeve back down. 'I almost forgot you were a wizard,' he added, indicating Andrew's lit wand.
'Nox. Don't have much need for magic in my line of work.' Andrew shrugged as he put his wand away. 'Now then. Tell me what's really bothering you.'
Draco dropped into the armchair he had come to think of as "his". 'I slept with my wife.'
Andrew snorted, almost contemptuously. 'Please. You've been sharing a bed with her for how long now?'
Draco sighed. 'We... erm... we...' He felt his face burn. 'Had... well...'
'Spit it out, man.'
'I had sex with Daphne!' Draco blurted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes darting around the room.
'Did you like it?'
'I... yes...'
'Did she?'
Draco pictured Daphne's hands, fingers grasping at the sheets. 'I believe she did.' Draco picked at his thumbnail. 'What does it mean?' he asked, a little desperately.
'What do you want it to mean?'
'I don't follow...'
Andrew leaned back. 'Is it merely sex? A little something to relieve an itch? Or is it something more than that? And expression of how you feel, perhaps?'
'It just sort of happened,' Draco admitted.
'That's usually the best kind,' Andrew said with a smirk. 'How was it?'
Draco drew himself up, attempting to convey a sense of wounded dignity. 'A gentleman does not divulge details,' he intoned with a sniff, unable to prevent a smug smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth.
'Does a gentleman smile like a Kneazle that's swallowed the canary?' Andrew shot back.
'Probably not,' Draco allowed. 'Daphne said she couldn't see it,' he said, abruptly shifting gears, gesturing to his left forearm.
'Do you believe her?'
Draco ran a hand through his hair. 'I don't know what to believe. I could be going mad.'
'Want to know what I think?'
'Why not?'
'Have you ever heard of the story of Macbeth?'
'Is that a wizard?'
'No. Scottish king. In some tales, he and his wife murdered the king of Scotland to take the throne. Afterward, his wife had a mental breakdown. Sleepwalking. Kept seeing blood on her hands where there was none. That sort of thing.' Andrew scribbled something in his notebook. 'When did it start to fade?'
'As soon as he died.' Draco dispassionately pushed his sleeve back. 'Within a year, it had faded to a sort of washed out grey,' he said, examining his arm. 'By the time my son was seven or eight years old, it had faded even more. It looked like an old scar. Thin, white lines. I didn't really look at it that often. I've tried to forget it.' He glanced at Andrew. 'You're saying I'm carrying around excess guilt from more than twenty years ago, and that's why it still stands out so clearly to me?'
'It's your psyche,' Andrew pointed out. 'The thing is, you can't hide from your past. It happened. You have to accept your actions -- or lack thereof -- and their consequences.'
Draco looked down at his hands, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. 'I helped kill a man. That doesn't go away.'
'Albus Dumbledore?'
'Yes.'
'Didn't you pay attention to anything that was said at your trial?'
'No,' Draco replied truthfully. 'Because it didn't matter.'
Andrew sighed. 'It does. Dumbledore was a dead man already. Or he would have been in a matter of weeks if Severus Snape hadn't hastened the inevitable.'
Draco shook his head stubbornly. 'There were other things...'
'The two students?' Andrew flipped through his notebook. 'Hmmmm. Katie Bell and Ron Weasley?'
'Yes.'
'I'll give you that. But you've apologized -- to Katie at least - and have attempted to answer for that.'
'And Vincent Crabbe.'
Andrew frowned. 'You didn't force him to participate in anything.'
Draco guffawed. 'He was an idiot who was too bloody stupid to even try to protest. And when I was younger, I exploited that. And we weren't friends. I needed someone I could lord over. And he and Goyle were perfect. Nothing more than blithering idiots.' Draco made a wry moue. 'Truth be told, I wasn't that put out when Crabbe died. Shocked, of course, because he was colossally stupid enough to set Fiendfyre when he did not know in the slightest how to control or stop it.'
Andrew bit his lip, trying not to grin. 'I see... Well, level of idiocy aside, he had a choice. You didn't make him use Fiendfyre.'
'The first battle at the school... If I hadn't...'
'Life is one enormous game of, "If I had only...",' Andrew retorted. 'You can either chalk it up to a learning experience, and move on, or spend your life wallowing in regret,' he said sternly. 'But you have to choose which path you're going to take.' Andrew set his pencil down. 'What choice did you have? Did you make the best decisions given the information you had? You had no reason to believe anyone would offer succor or refuge. And by the time you were told, it was too late.
'You can't change what you did. You can change what you're going to do tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that, and so on.' Andrew retrieved his pencil. ' You can't change the fact you still carry the remains of that Mark. But you no longer have to abide by what it stands for.'
Draco stared out of the window. 'All right, then. So how does Daphne fit into all this?'
'You married her out of obligation to your old life. Now you've stayed married to her, because you want to be. That, my friend, is a decidedly firm step in letting go of who you were raised to be and becoming who you want to be.'
'And the tattoo?'
'When you realize you aren't able to control everything and let go of that guilt, it'll fade for you, and you'll be able to see it like other people do.' Andrew paused . 'Just one more thing...'
'Yes?'
'Do you love your wife?'
Draco's mouth twisted. 'I like her a great deal more than I ever imagined I would. I find her physically attractive. Obviously. And I enjoy her company.' He slipped his jacket over his arms and settled it over his shoulders. 'I haven't anything else in my personal experience with which to compare.' He pictured the end of the ballet he'd seen with her in France. 'If faced with the prospect of living without her, throwing myself into a lake might be an option. Not a practical one, but still... I'm not certain it's love. Stupidity, perhaps, but love?' Draco walked to the door. 'See you next month.'
xxxxxx
Daphne's appearance on the Quidditch floor of the Prophet's offices didn't generate much of response. Most of the reporters were used to seemingly random people coming by. 'Excuse me?' Daphne tapped a young wizard on the shoulder.
'Yeah?' He spared her a quick glance before returning to his work.
'Could you perhaps tell me where I might find Ginny Potter?'
'Other side of the floor, missus.' He gestured absently with ink-stained fingers. 'The office...'
'Thank you.'
'Not at all...' he mumbled into his parchment. 'Could you tell her Appleby's sacked their Seeker? Changed my effing story, that did. And now I'm behind, sod it.'
'Certainly,' Daphne replied in bemusement. She wound through the random maze of desks scattered haphazardly throughout the room. Eventually she stood just outside Ginny's office. Ginny's back was to the door, and she gazed out the window while she spoke to a Dictation quill. 'England's chances of reaching a World Cup final would, in fact, be greatly enhanced by the addition of a capable Seeker. Surely there ought to be someone who can play the position with more skill and precision than Walter Connolly.'
Daphne rapped softly against the doorframe. Ginny turned and smiled, beckoning the other woman into the room. 'I hope I'm not interrupting anything.'
'Nothing that can't wait.'
'Oh, the young man in the rather eye-bending green shirt asked me to inform you his story will be late. Something about Appleby firing their Seeker...'
'Oh, damn.' Ginny spread a mock-up of the Quidditch page over her desk, winding a lock of hair around a finger. She checked her watch, using her wand to rearrange stories on the page. 'If I move the Montrose story here, I can put the Appleby feature there, and it won't irritate the Montrose owner too terribly much, but he'll just have to get over himself. That could work.' Ginny tapped the page with her wand and the outlines of the stories glowed and shifted their positions on the page. 'That's done. Fancy seeing you here in this rarified atmosphere,' she intoned deprecatingly.
Daphne extended a parcel. 'I just came to return the latest books you loaned to me. They were quite educational.'
'Oh?' Ginny's eyes sparked with laughter. It was the sort of excuse she bandied about when defending her choice of reading material.
'They were most useful. I added several new words to my vocabulary.'
Ginny's mirth took on a knowing mien. 'Am I to take it he wasn't such a wanker after all?' Daphne blushed, but nodded in reply. 'Brilliant!' Ginny found her bag under her desk and slung it over one shoulder, as she took the package from Daphne's hand and tossed it to her desk. 'Do you have plans for the next couple of hours?'
'I was going to... Well, no, not especially.'
'Have you had lunch yet?'
'No.'
My sisters-in-law and I get together one a week for lunch. Katie, Hermione, and I started doing it when the children were babies. And just kept doing it. I thought you might like to join us.'
'Oh, I don't know...'
'Come on,' Ginny cajoled. 'Have lunch with us. It's great fun. There's a usually something dreadfully sinful for pudding. And we always say we won't eat much of it, but it always disappears.'
Daphne blinked at Ginny's seemingly generous offer. It sounded like it would be a lovely and the idea of being in the company of other women was highly appealing. And Ginny was rather easy to talk to. 'If it won't cause problems...' Daphne began haltingly. 'I would love to.'
Ginny laughed. 'Come on, then.'
xxxxxx
Daphne tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, matching Ginny's pace as they dodged the throng of witches and wizards. 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't your family eat lunch together nearly every Sunday?'
'Yeah.'
'At your parents' home?'
'Yes.'
Daphne walked for several paces then shyly asked, 'Doesn't your mother get weary of all the cooking? And having -- how many people -- at least thirty -- invade her space each week?'
'You'd think so.' Ginny opened the door of the Leaky Cauldron. 'I think it was right around when the twins -- George and Katie's twins -- were born when someone raised the suggestion of only doing it once a month, or having it someone else's house. You would have thought we drove a stake through Mum's heart.'
'I take it she was upset.'
'Upset?' Ginny snorted. 'At the very least. Normally Mum shouts, has her say, then she's done. But she just looked at us, then got up from the table without another word. Dad just glared at us and said he'd never been more disappointed in us than he was just then. Turns out Mum enjoys all the fuss. And we help with cooking and washing up, so she doesn't have to do it all on her own.' Ginny led Daphne to the dark, narrow stairs that resisted Hannah's best efforts to brighten them.
'So if you do that, then why do this?'
Ginny opened a door to a private room. 'So we can talk about our husbands, of course.'
'Ginny, you're late...' Katie's voice faded as she took in Daphne's presence. 'Late...' she mumbled.
'Sorry. Something came up at work.' Ginny found an empty place at the table and ushered Daphne to it, urging her to sit, then grabbed an extra chair from the corner. 'Budge up,' she told Hermione, and squeezed between Daphne and Hermione. 'You remember Daphne,' she said casually, thinking Daphne would prefer to not have a fuss made over her joining them. 'So what did I miss?'
Penny passed a sheaf of photographs down the table. 'Just received an owl from Parker this morning. He's in Nevada right now, and says he ought to be in California by next week.'
Ginny fanned the photographs on the table. Most of them featured Parker engaged in some quintessential tourist activity. By the looks of things, he was having a roaring good time. Standing on a white sand beach in Destin in Florida. Grinning maniacally while he held a baby alligator in the swamps outside New Orleans, Louisiana. Posing in Times Square and at the Statue of Liberty. A round, brimless had, adorned with a pair of jaunty ears perched on his curly head. The tiny image of Parker turned to display his name embroidered in slanting, yellow script across the back. The last one displayed Parker astride a gangly brown-and-white horse, with a large cowboy hat on the back of his head. 'Where was this?' Ginny inquired holding out the photograph.
'Let me see...' Penny leaned closer. 'Ah. Texas. On a ranch. He had to leave or he wouldn't fit into his clothes. Between something called enchiladas and barbecued brisket.'
'You did a good thing letting him go,' Bronwyn said.
Penny accepted the pictures from Ginny. 'I know. He's happier than if he'd gone straight into the International Magical Law training program after school. Percy thought we could go meet him in California, but I told him no. He doesn't need us looking over his shoulder. Besides, he's promised to come home for Christmas, at least.'
Katie peered at Daphne quizzically. 'I think you've got something... Did you use the Floo, perhaps?'
'I've a handkerchief in here somewhere,' Bronwyn muttered, heaving an overstuffed bag to the table, and began to paw through it, unearthing plasters, tiny Quidditch action figures, small models of dragons, and odd stones. Fleur helpfully passed a small, silver compact mirror down to Daphne.
Daphne tilted her chin, while she fingered the dusky mark thoughtfully. 'Oh! That's not soot!' she exclaimed. Then, under her breath, 'I'm going to hex him for that...'
'Who?' Katie asked.
'Draco,' Daphne sighed, resigned.
Hermione spewed water into a serviette she hastily clapped to her mouth. 'Draco did that?' she spluttered incredulously.
Katie's face bore a strange expression. 'Somehow, I can't even begin to picture that.'
'Do you really want to?' Penny retorted. Glancing at Daphne, she murmured a quick, 'Sorry.'
Daphne merely smiled serenely, poking at a slice of lemon floating in a glass of water. 'I imagine it might very well be the first time two Slytherins have engaged in sexual intercourse that didn't involve poison.' Katie smothered a laugh, promptly converting it into a cough. 'Oh, come on,' Daphne coaxed. 'Everyone knows that one... What is a Slytherin's favorite aphrodisiac?' Daphne waited a beat. 'Poison.'
Ginny bit her lip, a sly grin breaking out. 'I always heard you had to have a third person in the room to provide a Shield charm in the afterglow.' She couldn't restrain the cascade of giggles.
'Because Slytherin women are like praying mantises,' Hermione supplied. 'If you can't distract them with something shiny, they'll hex you with something nasty.'
Bronwyn lifted an eyebrow. 'How do Slytherins practice safe sex?'
Daphne cocked an answering brow. 'How?' she asked, delighted.
A small smile curved Bronwyn's mouth. 'They leave their wands at the door.' She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. 'That one was making its way around the Healer trainees when I started the program.'
Katie stabbed a piece of lettuce. 'I'm about to be horribly rude and intrusive, and my mum would smack me into next Tuesday if she knew what I was about to say...' She met Daphne's eyes squarely. 'I was under the impression you and Malfoy didn't get on,' she said bluntly.
Daphne toyed with her fork. 'We didn't,' she replied, deciding honesty was the best approach with this group of women. 'He offered me a divorce a year ago.'
'But that would take years,' Penny gasped.
'Something else that needs to change,' Hermione muttered grimly.
'Be that as it may,' Daphne allowed, 'he left the decision in my hands. Then he was ill...' Before she could stop herself, it all came pouring out. The first year of their marriage when the extent of Draco's attention to her was to the sole purpose of producing an heir. His palpable relief when she'd gotten pregnant shortly after the first anniversary of their wedding. How once Scorpius was born, he left her alone. The way they passed their lives in that imposing mansion -- rarely seeing each other more often than at dinner. Watching him cringe as he began to behave more and more like Lucius, and seemingly unable to help it. The struggle for him to try and salvage something of himself and his life, not to mention something -- anything -- of their marriage.
Between bites of a simple meal of a salad and chicken soup, as the tale unfurled, Daphne realized how much she missed having friends. She didn't have many in school. Correction, I didn't have any... she thought. Ginny's unconditional offer of friendship that past January had been a lifeline, now that she thought about it. And while the six other women clustered around the table may not have been willing to make the same offer -- something for which Daphne didn't fault them for in the slightest, considering how horrid Draco had been to them in school -- they listened.
'So we were out taking a walk when the weather turned, and we were caught in the downpour...'
'If it wasn't the ferret, I might swoon,' Katie said.
Bronwyn propped her chin in her hand, studying Daphne with the air of someone attempting to solve a troublesome puzzle. Slytherins, in her experience at school, were cold, aloof, and more interested in the pursuit of personal pleasure, rather than giving it. She didn't know Draco personally, nor his family, so she could almost appreciate Daphne's tale. Still, one detail eluded her. 'Was it enjoyable on your part at all?' she wondered.
Daphne paused, a spoon dripping with chocolate sauce poised halfway to her mouth. Thoughtfully, she slid the bite of chocolate cake into her mouth, and delicately licked the remaining smears of chocolate from the spoon. 'They say Slytherin males have forked tongues,' she replied idly. 'You do the math.'
Hermione's eyes rounded into perfect circles. 'Fascinating...' she murmured, checking her watch. She began to rummage in her bag, throwing a few Galleons to the table. 'Must go... Important meeting,' she stammered as she left the dining room.
Ginny leaned back so she could peer out of the window, overlooking Diagon Alley. Hermione strode purposefully up the street toward the shop. 'Important meeting, my arse.'
xxxxxx
Ginny anchored the towel over her breasts and plucked her toothbrush from the cup by the sink. Arranging the Quidditch section for the next day had proven to be more difficult due to the personnel upheaval in Appleby. After dinner, Harry shooed her upstairs so she could relax and have a nice, long soak in the bath. She squirted a blob of toothpaste on her toothbrush. Harry strolled in and copied her actions. Ginny bent over the sink and spit out the mouthful of toothpaste. 'I heard a new one today,' she remarked nonchalantly.
'Oh?' Harry examined the fraying bristles of his toothbrush and made a mental note to replace it.
'According to Daphne, Slytherin males have forked tongues,' Ginny chuckled gleefully.
Harry's toothbrush clattered in the sink as it slipped from nerveless fingers. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Slytherin males apparently possess forked tongues.' She flicked her tongue at him experimentally.
'Stop that,' Harry ordered. His brow furrowed. 'And how would Daphne Malfoy know about that?'
Ginny's expression grew sly. 'How do you think?' She tapped her chin thoughtfully. 'It could make certain... activities... much more pleasurable...' She flicked her tongue at Harry once more, this time much more suggestively.
Harry's mouth dropped open, and his hands flew up to cover his ears. 'Stop it! Just stop it right now! That's too much information! Too much! Do you hear me, Ginevra Potter? And thank you for that image. Because in January, when he's sitting across from me at my desk in his probation interview, all I'm going to be able to think is "Blimey, I wonder if it is true...".' He glowered resentfully at Ginny. 'I need a bleeding drink. A large one.' He stalked from the bathroom, but spun around and hovered in the doorway. 'And shagging! Lots and lots of dirty shagging! Just to clear that image from my head!' Harry turned away.
Ginny released the towel wrapped around her body and quickly twirled it between her hands, then let one of the ends fly, snapping Harry squarely on his bum. 'Make mine a double, and I'll see what I can do.'
Harry stared at her for a long moment. 'I'll be right back.'
Table of Contents
Questions and Answers (Incomplete)
ONE -- What Can I Say?
TWO -- Ordinary or a Hero?
THREE -- Nightmares
FOUR -- Sunday Lunch
FIVE -- It Doesn't Matter
SIX -- To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
SEVEN -- Everything But the Beak and Feet
EIGHT -- Man U Red
NINE -- Sounds of Silence
TEN -- Cut With a Dull Knife
ELEVEN -- Shades of Contrast
TWELVE -- Grounded
THIRTEEN -- Wonder Witch
FOURTEEN -- Payback
FIFTEEN -- Spinning Into Nothing
SIXTEEN -- Things to Forget
SEVENTEEN -- Dark Corners
EIGHTEEN -- Battle Scars and Souvenirs
NINETEEN -- Twisted
TWENTY -- The Princess Diaries
TWENTY ONE -- Shadowed Snowflakes
TWENTY TWO -- Meetings and Destinations
TWENTY THREE -- Chasm
TWENTY FOUR -- Apologies
TWENTY FIVE -- Seeds of Hope
TWENTY SIX -- Like Waiting For a Train
TWENTY SEVEN -- Dinner Plans
TWENTY EIGHT -- Mind the Gap
TWENTY NINE -- Ties That Bind
THIRTY -- The Second Step
THIRTY ONE -- Waking Reality
THIRTY TWO -- Breathless
THIRTY THREE -- Inertia
THIRTY FOUR -- An Object In Motion
THIRTY FIVE -- Stays In Motion
THIRTY SIX -- Under Pressure
THIRTY SEVEN -- Surfacing
THIRTY EIGHT -- Ripples
THIRTY NINE -- Boomerang
FORTY -- Crossroads
FORTY ONE -- Balancing Act
FORTY TWO -- End of the World
FORTY THREE -- Truth or Dare
FORTY FOUR -- Minor Chord
FORTY FIVE -- Collision
FORTY SIX -- Need
FORTY SEVEN -- Chocolate Moonbeams
FORTY EIGHT -- Lingering Doubts
FORTY NINE -- Admissions
FIFTY -- Beginnings
FIFTY ONE -- A Day in the Life
FIFTY TWO -- Degrees of Fear
FIFTY THREE -- Transition
FIFTY FOUR -- Awakening
FIFTY FIVE -- Expectations
FIFTY SIX -- Doomed to Repeat
FIFTY SEVEN -- Navigating Maturity
FIFTY EIGHT -- Better Left Unsaid
FIFTY NINE -- Momentary Respite
SIXTY -- Cold Enough to Burn
SIXTY ONE -- No More Than One Can Bear
SIXTY TWO -- Grieving the Inevitable
SIXTY THREE -- In Their Skins
SIXTY FOUR -- Phoenix Rising
SIXTY FIVE -- From the Ashes
SIXTY SIX -- Book of Secrets
SIXTY SEVEN -- Never an Orb Around When You Need One
SIXTY EIGHT -- Parental Expectations
SIXTY NINE -- Taking It Personally
SEVENTY -- A Fun Souvenir
SEVENTY ONE -- Unpleasant Discoveries
SEVENTY TWO -- Defensive Maneuvers
SEVENTY THREE -- Carefully Constructed Walls
SEVENTY FOUR -- Gathering Clouds
SEVENTY FIVE -- Tangled Webs We Weave
SEVENTY SIX -- Everything's Fine
SEVENTY SEVEN -- Patience Is a Virtue
SEVENTY EIGHT -- Stages
SEVENTY NINE -- Passage of Time
EIGHTY -- Grand Gestures
EIGHTY ONE -- A Thin Line Between Love and

