Part II- New beginnings
Harriet attempted to burrow herself into the bed but Kreature's voice was incessant as always "Mistress has to get up, Mistress has guests"
The month had been exhausting to say the least; she spends most days attending funerals, even the ones that she wasn't invited to. Against the backdrop of black she stands in for Goyle's funeral, no one spares her a glance and when she sees Draco step up to place flowers her heart freezes. She refuses to think how her heart stutters, his face a cold mask. She pushes down the urge to hold his hand and tell him that it's alright.
She peeked through her heavy covers to see Krecher's impatient face and sighed "I am getting up", for the most part she had vehemently avoided human company. She had felt materially obligated to assist in the funerals as somehow the war was brought upon their doorsteps because of her. She had stood in for trials too, on Fenrir Greyback who was sentenced to death, for the Carrows that Ginny and Neville joined in regaling their tales of terror and for the Malfoy's at the very end.
Harriet had been honest to fault that when she was called upon to the witness stand, she had honestly narrated the incident in the department of mysteries, Lucius Malfoy's involvement in the war, his later reluctance where his wife and son were held as bargaining chips. Maybe it was Narcissa Malfoy's involvement in saving Harriet's life, or Draco's involvement in the war itself that Lucius's five year imprisonment in the Dementor free Azkaban was a light sentence.
Harriet was surprised to see a tanned Hermione on her couch instead "Mione" she breathed out only to get an armful of skinny limbs and bushy brown hair "I missed you too" she grinned.
"How have you been?"
Her eyes look appraising, disapproving at Harriet's over sized jumper and dark circles, she shrugged uncomfortably "As good as one can be"
"That's not an answer"
Harriet's returning grin is fleeting "How was Australia?"
Hermione's missives were infrequent, the wizarding international post was unreliable at it's best. Harry had worried nevertheless, the complications of such a heavy memory charm, their reaction on learning the truth wouldn't have been easy.
"They have agreed to return" she said softly, "But I am yet to earn back their trust"
Harriet nodded in understanding, even Molly Weasley had choice words to say upon learning what Hermione had chose to do. But it was war then and everyone had to make difficult choices.
"Andromeda sent me a letter"
Harry doesn't hide her surprise, "she had asked me to check on you"
Harriet feels the familiar pool of guilt settling in her stomach, she had made Andy worry, Andromeda who had lost a daughter and a husband, who was taking care of a six month old.
Harry doesn't have the luxury of sympathy, just weariness that sinks into her bones and stays there like a heavy shroud.
She had taken a walk in diagon alley, rebuilding and magic putting back a ruined street. Eyes had lingered longer before people crowded and she had to leave amongst tears and threats of feeling claustrophobic.
"you should get out of the house"
Hermione looked lovely, even with the bushy hair and her cheekbones sharp and hollow never quiet recovered from their one year trip into the wilderness. There is still the scar in her arm "mudblood" in faded skin, and eyes still brown, lovely and kind.
"I will" she said, because the thought of worrying anyone anymore was scary "and write to Andy"
Harriet knows she is under dressed the minute she steps into the streets, the cold air nips and bites and the warming charms slides off her skin like stinksap. The muggles hurry past jostling her as she winds her over coat tighter. There are a few wayward glances and looks and Harry wonders if she stands out just as much, like a sore thumb.
For a second she is half convinced, that there is something hideous about her ducks her head. Like an invisible barrier surrounding her, is glad when she spots Andromeda's house.
Like most wizarding houses, post war, was heavily warded. Most people unwilling to risk their lives for any stray death eater's wrath, especially considering the house also contained the six month son of two famous soldiers.
Harriet waited patiently for the wards to accept her before the door slid open, "Andy" she called out, "are you in there?"
She was surprised to see who was sitting in their dinning room, the familiar head of white blonde hair signature of the Malfoy family. She took a step back, muscles tightening involuntarily, even though it was with the help of Narcissa that she made it through the forest alive she still couldn't be at ease around the woman.
"Oh Harry you are here" Andy said smiling widely, the black circles evident around her kind brown eyes. Harry couldn't help the flinch of guilt that ran through her, she was supposed to be Teddy's godmother, she was supposed to be more involved. For the last few months she had been self indulgent in wallowing in her own misery instead of watching out for the people she loved.
"Hello Mrs. Malfoy"
Narcissa nodded at her, her lips into a thin smile as Harry settled on the couch farthest away from her.
"Where is Teddy?"
"Oh he is with Draco"
Harry barely had a moment's notice before Draco walked through the kitchen to the dinning room with Teddy in his arms.
It would have been funny if she wasn't personally involved in the scene, the slight widening of Draco's eyes and his 'deer in headlights' expression, if only Harriet was faring any better.
They hadn't seen each other in any other circumstances, the last she had seen of him was in battle ad before that...
Harriet blushed a vivid red, Draco looked away as well.
It was strange how their relationship suddenly seemed definable, those familiar features that always brought the worst of her temper brought a different emotion all together in her mind.
He looked relaxed, in a white button down shirt and pants, his sleeves rolled up and his robes draped on the back of his chair. He looked thinned, the sharp jut of his cheekbones more prominent, his lips a little paler, his gelled back hair seemed longer, past his ears in an artful disarray. Even with teddy blowing spit bubbles in his arms he looked impeccable, good.
"I keep forgetting you are in the same year" Andy said, breaking the odd sort of silence that had fallen upon them, "you two must know each other then"
It was Draco who chose to answer "Yes", but Narcissa's laughter was unmistakable.
"Of course they know each other Andy" she said "they have been at each other's neck from first year"
Even though her words were said in jest, her eyes looked at Harriet speculatively, as if she was a missing piece of some puzzle.
Narcissa Malfoy had chosen to talk to Andromeda again for several reasons, the wizarding world was in a state of flux, as would have been post any war. If Narcissa could describe in her own words she would have chosen the French revolution, whether Harry was aware of it or not she had not just overthrown Voldemort but also a system that believed that purebloods were better. And it was easier too, considering that well established purebloods controlled the wizarding world's finances and owned their shares in every major wizarding establishment.
When Harriet had overthrown him, at 17 no less, everyone had to give up on ideals. No longer was it acceptable to be a pureblood, time honoured traditions were cast aside for people clamouring for attention from the so called light side.
It was strange all things considered that if the dark lord had not existed, even Potter's parents would have been trying their best to fit into the same social circles.
Narcissa Malfoy shouldn't have been surprised to see Harriet's presence at Andromeda's house. After all it was well known that Lupin had been an inseparable part of their little clique in school of which Potter's father had been part of.
Even she had wondered about the Potter heir, he was handsome, from a well to do pureblood family and maybe if he wasn't in love with mudblood Evans from second year she might have spared him a second glance.
Despite having terribly good looking parents, the potter scion wasn't particularly eye catching. She had inherited her father's hair and nose that was too sharp on her face, her lips too thin and hair too dark for her pale complexion.
Yet she couldn't draw her eyes away from the aura of power that surrounded the girl, the vivid sort of green in her eyes, the sharp panes of her cheeks, a sort of beauty in imperfection that even Narcissa had t concede. She could be handsome, she thought, with the right clothes and grooming.
For now the Potter heir sat hunched, shoulders drawn and defensive, her long hair masking her face.
It was surprising change when Draco came into the room, her son who was so like his father in masking his feeling had surprise on his face. Narcissa found the flush of pink that crawled up his face endearing, after all Draco hadn't blushed past the age of six.
Potter's fingers curled against the armrests as she averted her eyes, while Draco's eyes lingered drawing her in, an expression so hungry that even Narcissa felt that she was intruding on a private moment.
Draco was always entitled in a way that only a single child could quite master, and Narcissa even encouraged it considering that he was born into much better circumstances than she had. The ancient and noble house of black was crumbling at the edges, of insanity that crept in through the dark corners and she had escaped to the Malfoy household. Of ruthless power and ambition, for the faint softening in Lucius's eyes that she knew was for her, only for her.
She loved Draco, he was not born out of necessity, not out of the want of heir like her. He was born because she wanted him to be, after she had picked out the colours for his nursery and the constellation he would be named after, after Lucius had asked, sometime in the dark with a strange vulnerability in the tilt of his voice "do you ever think about having children?" she had decided that she would give him that, a child.
Draco drags is eyes away like he is ashamed, for wanting her, for the want of her and Narcissa finally understands his defiance in the face of his father's anger, it was not teenage rebellion as she had understood, it was not growing up as she had hoped, it was love instead- like she had feared.