Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
September, 2010
It didn't work.
"Of course. And what does your mum do? Does she
work with dragons too?"
"Does he?"
"Uh-huh. For the Cannons."
"I always get stuck at 11," Jamie said seriously. "I can
never remember what's next."
"I suppose it's not," Ginny replied. "I moved out here
after Harry and I split up, and I discovered that if I
wanted to make ends meet as a freelance writer,
which is what I do, I had to find more jobs than were
available in the wizarding world. Writing for Witch
Weekly and the Daily Prophet were fine when I was
still with him, but on my own, I needed a steadier
source of income. So I thought I'd give writing for
Muggles a go, and to do that, I needed to know how
Muggles actually live. There's a few wizarding families
in the area, but it's mostly Muggles, obviously. And
the supermarket there is far more convenient than
going out to Diagon alley for groceries." She smiled.
"It's a bit like living in a foreign country, really. Though
I expect you'd know more about that than I do."
"There were people looking for you for the first little
while. I think they even had a bulletin to the Ministries
in North America. I'm rather surprised they never
found you," Ginny said.
"Why?"
"Yes, but you love your family, don't you?" Draco said
stiffly. "My father-" He stopped suddenly and clamped
his mouth shut. After a long moment, he took a deep
breath and looked at her. "I didn't have anything to
stay here for. My parents were dead, my 'friends' in
prison, and I didn't see the point of staying, being
prodded and questioned by Aurors, maybe sent to
prison myself just because of who I am. What would
the point have been? So I left."
Chapter Two
~*~
"Gin?"
"I am not!"
"Ginny..."
"Malfoy?"
"What?"
"Would he? From what Ginny says, they just ran into
each other. No big deal."
Neville put his fork down calmly and pushed his tray
away. "I think I need to have a word with my partner."
"Danger? No. But I think its past time Mr. Malfoy and I
had a little chat." Neville's eyes narrowed, and
Hermione leaned back in alarm, almost
unconsciously. The round-faced boy she'd known
since Hogwarts was suddenly gone, replaced by a
cold-eyed, hardened man, and Hermione felt a small
pang of pity for Draco when Neville caught up with
him.
"GINNY WEASLEY?"
"Potter."
Neville sat down at his desk and eyed Draco over its
littered surface. "How about the truth?"
"And?"
"And?"
"You must lead a sad and sorry life indeed if you think
that a cup of coffee constitutes a shag, Longbottom. If
it does," Draco shot a sly glance at the litter of coffee
cups scattered amongst the paper on Neville's desk,
"you certainly get around."
Another twitch, one that almost became a smile. "But
you intend to shag her, yes?"
"Hah."
"Poufter."
"And now I'm telling you to get the hell out. Smug,
overgrown, whey-faced - "
"You asked?"
"Hermione!"
~*~
Chapter Three
The hardest part 'bout leaving,
The hard part's not going away
It's the life you have to take with you
And how little you really want to stay
- Beaujolais Nouveau, The Humpff Family
Harry did not talk about the War. Not to his friends,
not to his family, and certainly not to the press. Any
reporter foolish enough to even mention it in his
presence found themselves swiftly and totally frozen
out, not just for a single interview, but from any
chance of speaking to The Boy Who Lived ever again.
If a reporter tried to ask Harry Potter about He Who
Must Not Be Named, that reporter could give up on
getting so much as a sound bite from him.
Harry did not talk about the War. That didn't stop
everyone else from talking about the war and his
involvement in it, of course; Voldemort's defeat and
death, and the capture and trials of his Death Eaters
took up much of the next five or six years, with
everything from small newspaper blurbs to ten-
volume theses being written about the events of 1998.
The press had a journalistic field day, as everyone, it
seemed had a story or five to tell about the War.
Stories about Harry were particularly popular, of
course; Ernie McMillan made a small fortune with his
tell-all book Living with Harry: The Hogwarts Years.
Harry did not talk about the war; neither would Ron, or
Hermione, or many of the Hogwarts teachers or
students involved speak of it publicly. Neville would, if
it were very late and he were well on the way to
getting very drunk, point out that his near-death at the
hands of a small group of Death Eaters just before
Voldemort was killed was what finally spurred him to
the realization that life really is too short to be afraid of
one's own shadow. He signed up for Auror training
not long after the end of the war, worked incredibly
hard at it, and surprised everyone, including himself,
by graduating at the top of his class. Ron had secretly
proposed to Hermione the Christmas before
graduation, and they surprised no one when they
were married a year later, in December of 1998.
Ginny went away to travel Europe for 3 months after
the war ended, in part to escape having to talk about
the war, and when she came back she found that
absence made Harry's heart, at least, grow fonder.
They started dating soon after, much to the delight of
the entire Weasley family.
March, 2010
"NO!"
"Longbottom..."
"NO!"
Cecil's temper finally kicked in and he surged to his
feet, shouting. "God dammit, you don't get a choice! I
want you on this case, you're the best man for the job,
and I don't give a damn what you think of Malfoy, you
are working with him and that's final! Whatever petty
little grudge you have against him - "
"You can do it, man. Just try not to kill him 'til after you
solve this thing," Cecil grunted. "Put up with him 'til we
get these bastards in Azkaban, then you can torture
Draco Malfoy to your heart's content."
Neville nodded his thanks and made his way into the
bowels of the great glass building. He'd spent time in
the Muggle world before, either undercover with the
Department or just for the experience of walking
among non-wizards. He wasn't as comfortable with it
as Ginny or Colin or some of the other younger
wizards, who seemed to live half in the wizarding
world and half in the Muggle and traveled at ease
between the two, but he made do, and didn't seem to
stand out too much. It was considered fashionable
these days to ape Muggle culture to a degree,
copying some of their fashions and expressions -
Hermione claimed it was a reactionary response to
the war with Voldemort, whicht tried to wipe out
Muggle-born wizards
"You?"
"What?"
"None of my business?"
"Yes?"
~*~
Chapter Four
November, 2010
Draco ran one hand over his hair and pressed the
elevator button again. He debated just taking the
stairs, but decided that, impatience aside, his
immaculate suit wouldn't stay that way if he ran up 5
flights. The lift doors finally slid open and Draco
waited with rather bad grace as a group of teenagers
piled out, flowing around him and giggling. He
stepped in and punched the button for Ginny's floor,
leaning back against the rear wall as the doors slid
shut and the elevator started to rise. He wasn't late,
exactly...at least, no more than 5 minutes. Maybe 10.
The lift stopped at the 5th floor, and Draco made his
way to Ginny's door. He knocked, then paced in a
small circle, waiting for Ginny to answer, running his
hand over his hair again, silently wishing he had a
mirror. Not that he was being vain, he just had the
horrible feeling that his hair was out of place. He
patted it again, then tugged at the lapels of his suit
jacket to straighten them. Ginny seemed to be taking
an awfully long time to answer the door. He wasn't
nervousper se; after all, it wasn't as though they
hadn't gone out before, for coffee or gone to the park,
semi-neutral meetings chaperoned by her children
and a score of other people. Of course, going to the
park was not the same as going to the theatre and out
for dinner. And it would be the first time they'd be
alone together, without the kids around. But he wasn't
nervous. Malfoys did not get nervous when picking up
gorgeous women and taking them out on the town,
and he was a Malfoy. Therefore, he was not nervous.
Draco nodded to himself and marked out another
small circle on the truly ugly carpet. Not nervous at all.
"Ron - "
"No, no, don't interrupt me! I'm going to figure this out.
Let's see. How many tall blond men do I know that I
wouldn't want my sister to date?" Ron started ticking
names off on his fingers. "Chris Brown, from my
office, but it wasn't Chris, obviously. Michael Van
Buren, from Foreign Magical Affairs. Nick Sorenson,
who has that shop in Diagon Alley. Never met him,
but he's a blond, and any man who runs a flower shop
is suspect. Doug Mackenzie, who works for Witch
Weekly. Hmmm...who am I missing? Someone I
haven't seen in a long time, maybe? Since I didn't
recognize him."
"Ron..."
"She didn't tell me - well, alright, she did tell me, but
she didn't mean to. I sort of put two and two together
when she let something slip."
"Oh dear."
"DRACO MALFOY?"
Ron cleared his throat. "So you've met him, I take it?"
"I just do," she said, and bent her attention to her
bunny rabbit. Ron looked at Hermione over Sarah's
head. She shook her head at him and motioned him
to carry Sarah back to bed.
Ron shifted Sarah's weight. "Well, I'm sorry I woke
you up, sweetheart. How about we go back to bed,
hmmm?"
"Poor Neville."
"Realizations?"
"Are you doing - this - " and she waved her hand to
encompass the restaurant, " - just because you know
it'll irritate him when he finds out?"
This time she did look away, her cheeks burning. "I'm
sorry," she whispered to her hands. "It was an unfair
question."
"Um...Quidditch?"
"I don't know how else to put it. It's...it's so big, and
you're just a tiny little speck in the middle of this huge,
huge prairie that goes on forever. It makes you feel
small and rather insignificant. It was a new experience
for me," Draco said wryly. "But it is beautiful, in a way.
I actually walked across probably half of
Saskatchewan."
~*~
Chapter Five
"We went to see a very bad play, then we went out for
dinner, then I took her home. Satisfied?" Draco glared
at Neville, clearly ruffled.
"Who?"
"Lavender."
"Yes, but you wouldn't care even if she did. She lacks
a certain...something, doesn't she?" Draco grinned as
Neville blushed and scowled at him.
"Not yet," Draco replied, trying to pry her arms off him.
He mouthed help! at Neville over the top of her head,
but Neville just shrugged and grinned. Draco glared at
him and managed to writhe out of Pansy's arms. "How
have you been?"
"Common sense?"
"Just a suggestion."
"Sod off."
Nothing.
"I'm not impossible, and I'm not the one who's difficult
to get hold of. I've sent you messages, you know,"
Ginny said reproachfully as she sat down. "And got no
reply, I might add."
"I know, and its not that, really. Its just" Ginny stopped
and sighed. "It seems strange to say it, but I really do
want this to work out. I want all the hard, awkward,
getting-to-know-you bits to be over already so we can
get to the happy bits."
"You are!"
"No!"
"Guessed? How?"
"I know, and I know you mean well, but you know
what Harry's like when he's angry."
Neville rolled his eyes. "Do I ever."
Ginny paused and set her fork down. "I don't know if I
ever told you how grateful I was to have you after he
and I split up. Everything you went through for me...I
really appreciated it."
Chapter Six
December, 2010
"Work trouble?"
Draco nodded. "I do. Not a big house, mind you, just a
little one. It's basically a little box." Draco gestured a
square with one hand. "It's got two small bedrooms
upstairs, and a little living room and a tiny kitchen,
and we developed the basement, so there's another
bedroom down there, and a sort of den. All told, it's
probably smaller than your apartment. Big yard
though."
"I'd like that," Ginny smiled. "So have you given any
thought to what you'll do when you finish your case?"
"Cecil."
"I - "
"Piss off and find your own paper, or wait 'til I'm
done," Fred said belligerently, trying to duck away
from Charlie and from George, who was leaning over
the other side of his chair. Neville shifted closer to
Ginny and watched the ensuing scuffle as George
and Charlie jumped on top of Fred.
"What?"
"You're seeing someone?"
"Who?"
"Is he rich?"
"Who?"
"Is he Canadian?"
"Who is it?"
"Who?"
There was a small pause while the adults got over the
shock of seeing quiet, retiring Neville shout at them.
Then Molly sank back in her chair and moaned. "My
only daughter, consorting with a Death Eater!" She
sat up straight and glared at Ginny. "Ginny, how could
you? What did I do wrong? How can I show my face
in Diagon Alley ever again? My own flesh and blood! I
can't believe -"
"Well, you know that's not true, right? He's selling the
house," Charlie interrupted cheerfully.
"Yes, but Molly has always felt like Harry's one of her
own, hasn't she?" Natalie said reasonably. Despite
being the newest of the Weasley daughters-in-law,
with her calm demeanor and quiet cheer, Natalie had
quickly become one of the people that everyone
seemed to confide in. She had also become, in a
family full of people with volatile tempers, a sort of
mediator by default. "I suppose she still feels that
way."
"But he's not one of her own," Ginny said, her voice
rather muffled by her arms. "And I don't care how she
thinks of him, she needn't bring it up at every single
dinner." She raised her head long enough to clap one
hand in front of her chest and lift her voice in an
uncanny impression of her mother. "'Oh, I don't know
why you left him, the poor boy'." She dropped her
hands and growled in disgust. "Not like she ever had
to live with Perfect Harry Potter."
"I don't understand why she can't just let it go. Harry
and I have managed to...it's been an amicable split,
we get along, we're perfectly civil to each other. It's
her who seems to want to make an issue of it." Ginny
leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head
into her hands.
"You like him? How can you like Malfoy? Isn't there
some sort of law against that?" George asked. "He
was a God-awful little monster in school."
"Still, Gin, you must have known it'd give Mum fits,"
George said reasonably. "I mean, honestly. Is it some
sort of mid-life crisis, sort of thing? Misplaced
rebellion you didn't get out of your system when you
were sixteen?"
"But Gin, he's not even cute!" Fred protested. "If you
were going to pick a Death Eater to give Mum fits,
couldn't you at least find an attractive one?"
"I can see that, you brat. Did you two plan this?" she
demanded. She kept one arm around Draco's waist,
and poked John in the stomach with her other hand,
glaring up at him.
"I try."
"Trust him to stay where all the girls are," Stacy said
over her shoulder, provoking a shout of laughter from
Del.
Anne sighed. "Would you two cut that out? Del, stop
teasing him. Dray, leave her alone. I swear, they
never grow up," she said to Stacy. Draco obligingly
moved his chair farther away from Del, and she went
back to slicing her vegetables. "C'mon, honey, you
were gonna tell us about your girlfriend."
"She's tall, she's got red hair, she's divorced and has
three children - do you mind?" he glared at Del, who
was making retching noises. "Just because you don't
like them, doesn't mean other people can't have them.
I went to school with her, way back when. Met her in a
supermarket last September, and we started seeing
each other."
Anne matched him glare for glare. "I said sit. You
haven't had this conversation with me yet, and if you
think you are leaving this room before you do, you've
got another thing coming." She waited until he sank
back into his chair, looking mutinous. Stacy was
standing in front of the oven, worriedly clutching a
thermometer, and even Del was looking serious for
once. Anne leaned casually against the back of one of
the other chairs. "Now. Tell me about her. What was
her name again?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Poor girl. And she's divorced?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"I forgot how cold it gets," Draco said finally, his voice
so soft it was almost a whisper.
"Figures."
"On what?"
"Would I what?"
Chapter Seven
January, 2011
"Should have told him that you were and made him go
away," Draco replied absently, scanning the article.
"God, that's a really bad picture. Where did they find
it?"
"No reason."
"I'll sell you mine for a dollar," said Draco. "It's huge,
and drafty, and ugly, and dark, and I hate it. Be
damned if I set foot in the thing again."
Jamie did just that, pulling out the bags full of little
plastic men. The sleep spell Draco had cast on them
last night was wearing off, and mutterings could be
heard from within each plastic sack. Jamie ripped
them both open, unceremoniously dumping cowboys
and Indians into one large pile on the floor. Sarah
squeaked and backed away as the little toys began to
brawl enthusiastically. Jamie whooped. "Brilliant!"
"If you separate them, you can build a little fort, and
they'll have gun battles and things," Draco said,
coming forward to crouch on his heels beside Jamie.
He carefully reached into the pile to pick up toys one
by one and place them on opposite sides of the box
lid, where they couldn't see each other.
"Well, well." Angelina sat back and set down her cup.
"Fred left that bit out. I wonder why."
"It's a surprise."
"It certainly does. This is..." Her voice trailed off and
she moved away from him suddenly, taking several
steps down the road toward the town. Her shoulders
moved sharply as she took a deep breath.
"Not at all," Draco said. "If you want to talk about it,
then we can."
"You pick them up and whirl them around 'til they get
dizzy, then toss them over the fence. If you ever come
to the Burrow, I'll teach you how."
Draco wrinkled his nose at her. "As fun as that
sounds, I think I'll skip the practical application."
"All right," she said with a smile, then tilted her head
at him. "Do you miss it?" she asked quietly.
She turned her head and smiled up at him. "I think so.
I'm getting cold."
"Morning, Longbottom."
"Stop laughing!"
"Do what?"
"Who is she?"
"Fantastic."
Draco sighed deeply and raised his head long enough
to shove a piece of paper at Neville. "Here, read it
yourself."
Chapter Eight
Harry set his jaw and averted his eyes, quite clearly
refusing to say anything. Draco glared at him, angrier
than Neville had ever seen him. "Fine," Draco said
tightly. "How's this? He didn't kill Lucius Malfoy, I did."
"Harry?"
Harry stuck out his chin and leaned back against the
door. "Ask him what happened, if you want to know.
Not for me to tell you."
"I should have. All this time here, and no one even
mentioned it. I had assumed that people were merely
being polite. Of course he wouldn't have said
anything. The old Gryffindor nobility at work," Draco
spat venomously, and raised his head. He was white,
lips drawn in a thin line. Draco shoved his chair back
and stood up abruptly, straightening his shoulders
and not looking at Neville. "I have to go."
"Ginny..."
"Tell me what happened."
"All I know is that her name was Laura, and that she
died in a car accident. And that he cared about her.
He wouldn't tell me more."
"He will," Neville said, more firmly than he felt. "I don't
think he'd leave for good."
John sighed and tilted his head back. "Are you trying
to make this as difficult as possible, or what?" He
tossed one long braid over his shoulder. "I assume
that something out of the ordinary happened to make
you show up here when you are supposed to be in
England."
John pulled out the chair on the other side of the table
and sat down, hooking an ankle around the third chair
and dragging it away from the table so he could prop
his feet up on it. "And he got under your skin so badly
you decided to run away?"
"Is this guy really such an ogre?" John asked. "If you
want to avoid him like the plague, and Ginny is afraid
of him..." He trailed off as Draco burst out laughing.
"Wish I had time, bro. I'd love to," John said, smiling
back. "Just don't let 'em get to you, is all." He pushed
his chair back and stood up. "I gotta go, I promised
Del I'd meet her. You gonna be ok?"
Draco sat in the kitchen for a long time after John left,
as the weak winter sunlight faded outside the window.
He hadn't come back because he was running away,
although privately he had to admit that was part of it.
But the larger part was because this was his
sanctuary; it was home, in a way that England never
had been. Except...except.
"Hello, Longbottom."
"The one that I've been hunting all over for you to tell
you about." Neville reached into a drawer and pulled
out a small digital cassette - the kind that Muggle
security cameras used, wrapped up in what looked
like plastic film - and held it up. "This is a security tape
from the bank that was robbed earlier this week. One
of the Aurors from London South found a camera our
little friends neglected to wipe."
Neville grinned and stood up, pulling his cloak off the
coat rack behind his chair and waving Draco toward
the door. "After you, Malfoy."
"Hello."
"Bad day?"
"Oh, God." She picked her way across the room and
into the hall. "You have no id - William, no! How many
times have I told you not to do that? Hold on," she
said into the phone, then went to pull Will off the back
of the couch. "Stay off there." She sighed and raised
the receiver to her ear again. "Sorry."
Ginny bit her lip and looked at him sidelong. His head
was bent and he was staring intently at the floor, a
small worry line between his brows. "Would you have
stayed there?"
She shook her head. "I - no. Harry never talks about
it. I know something happened, and I know - well. I
know you were there, and that it wasn't..." Ginny
stopped. "I know he regretted it."And she did know -
Harry was a restless sleeper and she'd woken more
than once to him crying out in his sleep, from
nightmares he never spoke of when he woke up.
"Isn't that why all men get married? Either they decide
they need housekeepers, or women take pity on them
and decide to help them clean up their acts," Draco
said, amused.
"Well, yes and no. I mean, he's not going to win any
prizes as world's best father, but I can't really be
surprised. It's not like he ever really had a good
example to follow off - his own family used to lock him
in a cupboard." Ginny sighed. "I think he'll get better
as the children get older, and it's easier to relate to
them as something other than things that do nothing
but eat."
"Stop it!"
"Neville?"
"I mean it, cut that out!" Ginny scowled at Draco, who
looked torn between laughter and horror. "He was
very sweet."
"I do," Draco smiled and bent down to kiss her gently.
"And I won't regret a moment."
Neville sighed. "It does look like it. Not much we can
do but wait and see. God, I'm getting tired of waiting."
"You never did say why you were selling it," Ginny
remarked. "It's the sort of thing you'd want to keep,
isn't it? A great old house like that?"
"Ginny?"
"Harry - "
~*~
Chapter Nine
"Hello!"
"Except you."
Draco smiled innocently. "I did tell you I'm not nice."
Ginny shook her head, and they made their way down
Diagon Alley to the Ministry building. She waited in
the foyer while Draco quickly ran downstairs to the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It didn't
take long before he was back up, shaking his head.
"He's not in," he said. "I'll have to call him and tell him.
God," he said, running a hand over his hair. "I can't
believe this. Of all the horrible bad luck...that damned
woman."
"I don't know," Draco replied. "I don't think so, but I'll
have to ask Neville to check again. We've been
operating on the assumption that the two of them
don't know anyone in the wizarding world. If they've
made contacts among some of the old crowd of
Voldemort's...well, it's not good."
"I am not!"
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"I don't think so," Natalie said, holding out her hand,
which Draco shook politely. "It's a pleasure to meet
you."
Ginny cleared her throat and brushed her hands off. "I
think dinner is about ready, if you want to go get Fred,
George. Nat, want to give me a hand?"
"Big or little?"
"Shit."
"Of the place they want Harry to meet them with the
ransom money."
"Shit."
"Only one?"
"Great."
Neville hesitated.
"And I'll bet they'll all be just overjoyed to see me. Ask
me if I care, Longbottom." Draco pushed past Neville
and opened the front door, striding into the kitchen. A
sea of heads turned to face him; the entire Weasley
family had assembled on short notice, crowded into
Ginny's small kitchen. Angelina and Natalie were
sitting on the living room couch with Percy and his
wife Penelope. The twins were sitting at the kitchen
table opposite Ginny, and Charlie, the burn scars
standing out on his heavily muscled forearms, was
leaning against the archway to the living room. Arthur
and Molly were standing against one of the counters,
Ron and Hermione at the other, and Harry was pacing
in the small space left over in the middle of the
kitchen. Percy stood up when Neville and Draco came
in, and came to stand behind Charlie, the women
standing as well to look over his shoulder.
"I don't have that much money!" Harry hissed, and ran
his hands through his hair, making it stand on end.
He, like Ginny, looked terrible, pale and worried.
"Dammit! I'm not exactly hurting for cash, but I don't
have that sort of money! And what happens if we
don't figure it out...if we don't pay?"
Draco shook his head. "It looks familiar, but I'm not
sure. If it is them, then at a guess, they've decided to
pick somewhere close to home for this little ploy.
None of you would recognize it, of course, which
would give them the opportunity to try again, for more
cash. I'm betting it's somewhere in Alberta, and
probably Calgary. I'd need to show it to some people
to be sure, though." Neville nodded and pushed the
photo back toward him, and Draco picked it up,
tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Harry
glared as if he wanted badly to protest, but held his
silence.
~*~
Chapter Ten
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again
If this is rain let it fall on me and drown me
If these are tears let them fall
- Must I Paint You A Picture, Billy Bragg
"Hmmm?"
"What, you just met him and thought 'I'll sleep with
Draco Malfoy, just for a lark'?"
Ginny gritted her teeth. "I'm just saying that you can't
judge him based on what happened in the past. It's
not fair, because he's not that person anymore. You
might at least make an effort to get over things that
happened twelve years ago."
Ginny bit her lip, but didn't lower her eyes. "Harry, you
don't have to."
"Nope, you got the right place. I'm John, I'm Dray's
roommate. He told me you were coming, I just wasn't
expecting you to be all Star Trek-like, popping in out
of nowhere. That was actually..." he stopped to
consider, "pretty damn cool. Wanna beer?"
"Er..."
John sauntered down the two steps and out the back
door. Neville watched him go in bemusement, then
shrugged mentally and followed. John seemed to be
taking his precense with remarkable aplomb, and all
things considered, it was better than the alternative.
John shrugged his shirt back on and sat back down. "I
did, actually. Mine's a buffalo, his is a thunderbird."
"A what?"
John smiled cheekily. "I know and you don't, and I'm
not going to tell!" he said in a singsong. Neville held
his breath, waiting for Draco to lose his temper;
Neville knew from experience that he didn't take well
to teasing.
"What for?"
Draco slid his arm around her and rubbed her back
slowly, feeling the tension in her. "It's almost over. An
hour or so, and we'll have them back safely."
"I don't know if it will make you feel better, but he's as
unhappy to be here as you are to have him."
"You will," Draco replied. "I think you'd like them, and
I'm positive they'd like you."
"You think so?" Ginny craned her head around to look
at him. He smiled down at her.
"I see you found it," said the one who'd stepped
forward. He was taller, and seemed less edgy than
his partner, who was darting quick looks into the
trees, judging by the movement of his hood. From the
tape they'd found back in March, Draco knew the
taller one was Straker, the Muggle.
~*~
Chapter 11
"Ginny?"
"I know. I just wish I could be there and here too." She
sighed softly.
"No, not yet. I've spoken to his friend John, and all he
can tell me is that Draco will be all right eventually,
but he's still in hospital right now. He should be
released in a week or two, and he should be ready to
testify at the trial in August, but I don't know anything
more," Neville said with a sigh. "I haven't been able to
actually talk to him yet...apparently he's still on some
sort of Muggle machine to help him breath, and he
can't speak."
"I know it's not fair, but you can't really expect Molly or
Arthur to be entirely reasonable about this. They only
knew Lucius Malfoy, and you know that they didn't get
along. They never met Draco after he came back, and
they have only Ginny's word that he's really changed,"
Hermione said sensibly. "It's hard to expect Molly to
have a sudden change of heart about a man she's
expecting to think the worst of."
"I know." Neville slumped over his tray and pushed his
chicken around his plate.
"I don't know," Neville said. "I'll look her up in the next
few days and talk to her in person." He shrugged
sheepishly at Hermione. "Maybe it'll help."
"You mean it's been sitting here the whole time I was
in hospital?" Draco asked, not sure if he should laugh
or have a fit.
"Er, both."
John started to say something, then stopped. "Jesus,"
he managed finally. "It's like you've won the lottery or
something. I don't think I can wrap my head around
that much money."
"Why don't you ever call him by his first name?" John
asked suddenly.
August, 2011
"I almost don't want to. I feel like - I don't know. I don't
blame him for not wanting to talk to me."
"Are too!"
"How do you know she hasn't tried? I'll bet she has.
It's not like John is ever home, and half the time your
damn answering machine doesn't work. Maybe she
has and there's just never been anyone here to take
her calls, did you think of that? Maybe she's sitting in
England right now, drinking tea with somebody and
bemoaning the fact that you hate her now because
you haven't called her back," Del said. "Though I hope
she's got more sense than that."
"I don't recall asking you for your opinion," Draco said,
as nastily as possible. "Nosy little busybody."
"Well you can bloody well not," Draco said irritably. "I
hardly think you've got any sort of authority to be
doling out relationship advice." It was a cheap shot;
Del had a notoriously bad relationship history, and
was extremely sensitive about it.
"I may not have the greatest track record, but at least
I don't sit around and not do anything when I'm
supposedly dating people," Del snapped, her face
red. "At least I fucking try." She stood up abruptly,
shoving her chair back. "Besides which, we aren't
talking about me. You are being a huge fucking
colossal idiot about this whole thing, and if you had
half a brain, you would fucking call the woman instead
of sulking around like some sort of spoilt brat. But if
you want to screw up your life, go right ahead!" Del
spun around and stalked into the house, slamming
the screen door as hard as she could, making the
windows rattle.
"I just don't know what I'd say," Draco replied, which
was true. Apologize for being unable to keep even the
simple promise he'd made her, that everything would
be all right? For not being able to do what she had
expected of him, or what he had expected of himself?
Draco mentally shook himself. He couldn't really
blame Ginny for not wanting to contact him, but he
didn't say so to John.
"I just worry about you. I know I don't need to, but it's
hard to not." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets
and scuffed his feet against the carpet. "I know you've
got Hermione to lend a sympathetic ear and all, but I
reckon if you want to complain about how Malfoy's a
great huge git, I could probably nod and agree with
you," he said, schooling his face into a blandly helpful
expression.
Ginny shot him a look, then shook her head and
laughed. "I suppose you could." She sighed and
pushed a hand through her hair. "It would probably be
easier if he were being a git, but he's not. He's not
being anything. Except absent." She stopped, not
really wanting to tell Harry about her feelings for
Draco right now. It wasn't really fair to either of them.
"Harry..."
"Harry; it's over," Ginny said firmly. "The war, the past,
all of it. It's over, and what's done is done. You can't
change it. If you want to make amends for anything
that happened, then you should talk to Draco, not to
me. But I don't think he really wants anything from
you...he moved on long ago."
Mid-August, 2011
"I know that, and you know that, but we can't get
those two to admit to it, and there's no way we can
prove it short of getting permission to search the
Flints' home, or the Notts' or the Averys'. And that's
right out of the question right now. Too many Ministry
folks who are either their friends, or simply don't want
to stir the pot again." Neville sighed and shook his
head. "Though Cecil would dearly love to see it done,
we can't search them without some form of proof.
Which we don't have."
"I'll keep that in mind," Draco said, and stood up. "Call
me if anything comes up, will you? And you can send
Finch-Fletchley to me if he shows up, and I'll repeat
everything I've already told him via owl."
"Oh, come on, Malfoy. Your dad was the Dark Lord's
most trusted advisor. How could you not want that
back, eh?" Marcus leaned back, stretching his legs
out in front of him comfortably. "See the old crowd
again, pick up where your dad left off?"
"I have not 'gone soft', Flint, I grew up. It's something
you might try as well," Draco shot back. "Voldemort is
dead, and if you had any sense at all, you'd be
grateful for it."
"Fuck off."
"I don't own any dress robes, and I didn't have time to
go shopping," Draco said, still grinning at him.
"Though you don't look so bad yourself."
Neville scowled some more and tugged at his collar
again. He was wearing his official Auror uniform, with
the Ministry crest and his name over the left breast
pocket. He could practically feel them wrinkling. "I
hate dressing up," he said morosely.
"You look fine, and after all, it's only a trial," Draco
said calmly. "It's hardly something to get worked up
over. We already know what the outcome will be."
"It's not the trial bit, it's the public speaking bit. I'm
crap at it." Neville glanced at Draco, who looked as
unflappable as always. Of course he wouldn't have
any qualms about standing up and talking in front of
the largest crowd of people Neville had ever seen.
With Neville's luck, he'd get flustered and forget his
own name, but not Draco.
"Occupation?"
Draco, for his part, didn't look at the crowd, and barely
glanced up when Justin Finch-Fletchley called for
quiet and moved to stand in front of him. "Name?"
Justin asked brusquely, much less politely than he
had spoken to Neville.
"Occupation?"
"Yes."
"No."
Draco visibly rolled his eyes and raised his voice over
the rising noise from the crowd. "And I recall you
saying that you were going to play in the Quidditch
World Cup, Higgs," he replied mockingly. "Whatever
happened?"
Higgs smirked. "You mean you've changed your mind,
then? No desire to conquer the world anymore?"
"I know, but I'll bet Higgs is worried. Half the jury
probably wanted to hang them on sight, because it
was Harry's children they took...he's just trying to use
everything he can against Harry. If discrediting Malfoy
will help, he's going to do whatever it takes."
~*~