The memorial service was a beautiful blending of laughter and tears. The life of Fred Weasley had brought countless laughs into the world, so it was only right that it be memorialized similarly. The celebration—for it was a celebration indeed—was held inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The shop had been magically expanded by Professor Flitwick to accommodate the crowds of people who arrived in droves to pay homage to Fred Weasley, and by the end of the memorial, each and every one of them was moved to tears as the Weasleys, the Order, and a variety of other witches and wizards from all walks of life recounted their most fond memories of Fred. Even the Hogwarts professors, whom the twins had tormented endlessly, spoke of Fred's exploits with endearment.
After Kingsley concluded the speakers, George gave the crowd free reign in the shop, making it clear that the funds from all purchases made tonight would be donated directly to aiding the families who had suffered losses in the war. The mood turned festive as the crowd explored the shop's merchandise, filling the air with a variety of unusual sounds emitted by the twin's many inventions. The food was plenty and the beverages flowed freely, and soon, everyone was remembering Fred with laughter crinkling their tear-tired eyes.
Hermione and Ginny were headed towards the beverage table for a refill when Hermione noticed a lanky, blonde, familiar figure lurking in the shadows of one of the shop's more isolated corners. Though his presence was not entirely unexpected, it surprised her enough to warrant investigation. He skulking form looked more depressed than sinister, however, and something in her told her this wasn't a conversation in which she should involve Ron and Harry.
"I'll catch up with you," she told Ginny, and started towards the shadowed corner.
"Draco?" she asked tentatively, startling him out of his miserable-looking reverie.
"Granger! What are you doing here?" he spat, instantly defensive.
"I think that's a more appropriate question for you."
"Doesn't matter. I was just leaving anyway," he said briskly as he began to push past her towards the exit. But as he passed she grabbed his arm, stopping him abruptly.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
She released him instantly. "Sorry, it's just…you can stay. It's okay that you're here."
"It's not, though, is it? I shouldn't have come."
"Why did you come?"
He nearly laughed at the absurdity. Merlin, she was irritating. "What can I say, I've just missed the Weasleys," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
"Draco…if you're looking for forgiveness—"
"I'm not looking for forgiveness!"
"—then you've made the right choice, coming here."
"And what would you know about it? You, one of the saviors of the wizarding world?"
"I know that when it mattered most, you made the right choice, you walked away from Voldemort! The world doesn't have to hate you, Malfoy. All you have to do is ask."
"No, Granger! Don't you get it? Don't you know what I've done?"
"Yes," she replied almost angrily, "I do know. I was there for quite a bit of it, if you'll recall."
"Then are you just too thick to realize that there's no going back from what I am?" With this, he forced up his sleeve and presented his forearm. Hermione tried not to flinch at the sudden sight of his coal-black Dark Mark, contrasting sharply against his pale skin.
"Yes, well," Hermione said gently as she pulled up her own sleeve to reveal a shiny white scar that clearly read MUDBLOOD. She placed it next to Draco's stark, imposing Dark Mark. "We are not our labels, Draco."
"You're not exactly helping your case, Granger," he said, guilt twisting his stomach at the sight of her mangled skin.
"The point is, it's about choices. I choose not to believe what's written here. I decide who I am—and so do you. No one else can decide that for you. And the thing is, the best thing, in fact, is that you get to choose again. Whatever you were before…" She lightly placed a finger on the black ink, and he had to repress the urge to pull away, "You can choose who you are now."
"I wish it was that easy."
"I didn't say it was easy. But nothing about our lives has been easy, has it? And I think you made the right choice in coming here. Even if it is a bit strange for some people," she added, noticing Ron glowering from across the room. She shot him a brief warning look to stay away.
"Fred would have kicked me out on my arse."
A trace of a smile ghosted across her face. "Maybe. But then he would have listened to what you had to say. Something along the lines of an apology would be a start."
"An apology," he scoffed. It seemed pathetically inadequate against the immensity of his nauseating guilt. "Everything I did—I'm sorry isn't going to make it go away," he spat.
"Nothing will make it go away. But what matters is that you make sure it never happens again."
"Who'd listen to me? Who in their right minds?"
A soft, sweet voice spoke up behind him and said, "I would."
"Hello, Luna," said Hermione.
"I would listen to you, Draco Malfoy," she said, gazing at him unflinchingly.
Draco gaped at her serene face. Luna Lovegood, the girl he'd kept locked up for months. The girl from whom he'd had to confiscate some bits of white stone after she started using them to draw flowers all over his basement. Flowers, for Merlin's sake. Luna, who had always addressed him by name when he'd bring her meals. Who's screams had echoed through the rooms of his home as she suffered his aunt's Cruciatus. There was something under the serenity, a hardness that hadn't been there when he'd taunted her at school over the years. Her time in Malfoy Manor had changed her. But still—she was facing him openly, genuinely. And Draco wasn't going to pass up the chance that perhaps even a small amount of his guilt would be lifted.
"Luna…" And he thought of all he'd done, all he wished he could undo. All the pain he'd caused this strange girl, and the crowds of tear-stained people packed into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes behind her. He thought of the swish of robes and a long white beard as he disappeared off the edge. He thought of the way he'd tried to scrub the long-dried blood from so many people—Granger and Luna included—off of his parlor room floor, refusing to use magic until his father had scolded him for acting like a Muggle…"I'm sorry," he said to Luna, with a voice that surprised him in its strength considered the choking sensation he was experiencing.
"I accept your apology, Draco." She stepped closer to him, lightly touched his elbow, and then walked away. His eyes followed her until she vanished up the stairs of the loud, bright shop.
"See? It's possible," said Hermione. He had nearly forgotten she was there.
"She's not exactly like everyone else, though, is she?"
"No. But I think you've got the concept down, regardless. I'll be seeing you, Draco."
He didn't smile at her as she walked away. Suddenly exhausted, he skulked out the door and into the still-healing streets of Diagon Alley. Someday, maybe, the day would come when he would pluck up the courage to face the Weasleys. Quite honestly, that day felt far distant. His courage was tiny still, he thought. Pitiful. But it was growing, and someday, eventually, he would find George, and take Granger's advice and apologize, for what it was worth. And then, what would happen next would be up to George—his choice. But as for Draco, he knew which choices he would be making from now on, and they weren't easy ones. But as he walked away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with a slightly lighter heart, he knew—it would be so, so worth it.