AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Thanks to :-
AlitaMae for your lovely review of Chapter 6 and also for adding this fic as well as prequels The Perfume of the Roses and The Roses Grow to your Faves.
JeanandBilius and Guest for your great reviews of Chapter 6.
DoctorWhoGirl14 Tomatensauce buford12 for adding this fic to Alerts.
Thanks, guys! It means a lot. :))) This chapter is a little more serious, but don't worry, the kids will return...eventually...to cause havoc ;D This story is AU.
Chapter 7
Gone
Hermione and Ginny looked on in morbid fascination as the nightmare played out. They had, foolishly in retrospect, thought Ron and Harry quite capable of making small talk with their guests while they busied themselves casting spells to accio the mess the (thoroughly) shaken house had created and into a large cauldron that could then be accio'd to a nearby wizard known to keep a dozen greedalls as pets (greedalls, for those of you who have never seen one, are six-legged, two-tailed wizarding creatures, a cross between a cat and a dog, who can and will eat anything digestible without any ill effects). Malfoy infuriated them with his arrogant airs and rudeness. His wife didn't seem too bad – though about the only thing either could remember about Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass from her time at Hogwarts was that she was remarkable only for being the quietest Slytherin that Slytherin House had ever known, which meant maybe there was hope - then again she had married Draco Malfoy...
While their respective husbands seemed to be attempting to pour oil on troubled waters the two war heroines decided it was a golden opportunity to deflect the conversation and transfer their attention to something energetic enough to calm down their rising tempers before they, at best, hexed, and, at worst, killed The Ferret. Surely it wouldn't be too difficult for Ron and Harry to find common ground with Malfoy and discuss Quidditch or how the years had flown by or how well the kids got on? They had agreed on the plan currently in operation – *cough* allegedly in operation - merely by exchanging a silent but meaningful look. Years together at Hogwarts and fighting a war side by side against Voldemort and his followers had made Hermione and Ginny closer than sisters and almost able to read each other's minds.
Harry's "Let's start again" after the niggling quarrel sounded promising. While she naïvely imagined polite, if awkward, chit-chat between Ron, Harry and the Malfoys would quickly ensue, Hermione began concentrating on working out whether or not there would still be enough undamaged food and drink left to go round – she could make what was there larger but she couldn't produce more food and drink out of thin air, as anybody who ever studied Gamp's Five Principle Exceptions to Elemental Law of Transfiguration will know.
She had of course, as ever, done her homework thoroughly. At school the brightest witch of her age couldn't recollect ever speaking to Astoria Greengrass, who always seemed to be in the shadow of her older sister, the much louder and very obnoxious Daphne, but she'd read up on the Greengrasses. Apparently, being of traditional pureblood stock, they were as formal as the Malfoy family. No doubt, like Malfoy, Astoria would therefore prefer a formal address. And so the invitation, loftily requesting the company of Mr and Mrs Malfoy with Mr and Mrs Granger-Weasley and Mr and Mrs Potter was duly issued. Naturally Hermione assumed Ron and Harry knew her Christian name. Because if they didn't they would've asked. Wouldn't they?
Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine Harry and Ron, valiant warriors in battle and throwbacks to Neanderthal wizards where social graces were concerned, would actually be moronic enough to stand there trying to take a stab in the dark as to what their guest's name was, instead of finding out before she arrived or at least apologising profusely and admitting to it "slipping their mind".
Ginny's wand, in the middle of conducting an accio spell transferring lemon and honey chicken into the cauldron, almost crashed out of her hand in disbelief. Hermione's breath was stolen and she needed a moment to regain it. But before she could, Draco spoke first.
"I've had enough of this goddamn fiasco," he declared, blazing with anger at the way his wife had been treated. Fine if four gormless Gryffindors with delusions of grandeur - in Draco's opinion they got far too much glory; the Ministry was even talking of introducing an annual Hogwarts Heroes medal for students who provided "outstanding service to wizardkind" for Merlin's sake! - wanted to act like jumped-up jerks with him, he could give as good as he got and he'd enjoy dishing it back. But Astoria deserved respect. She'd done nothing to provoke anyone, quite the opposite. Made excuses for them, tried to bring everyone together, been keen for Scorpius to meet up with their brats. And it was the latter that caused him to hesitate. They both wanted what was best for their son and sadly Scorpius would lose out if they cut ties now. Yet what else could they do in such a hostile atmosphere?
"Perhaps we should fetch Scorpius and leave?" He wrapped his arm around Astoria's waist both to reassure and because it was safer; if he gently laid his hand on her elbow as pureblood decorum dictated not only would it lack the same measure of comfort, but someone might espy the zig-zag patterns of several scuffed marks at the end of the sleeves.
"I think that might be wise," Astoria agreed stiffly.
"Please don't..." Hermione began, furious with Ron and Harry for their insensitivity. She made to touch Astoria's shoulder, but the slighted witch deliberately turned her head away. Astoria was blessed with an extraordinary amount of patience, but she had her pride. If their parents behaved this way, it wouldn't be long before the kids followed and rejected Scorpius. The Malfoys may be despised, but they needed no-one. They had made their own lives in the little muggle house with the pink, red, yellow and white roses and the apple tree and the family of birds nesting under the eaves.
"Good riddance!" Ron muttered churlishly.
"Ron, you're not helping." Ginny didn't protest too strongly however. They never had been and never were going to be best buddies with Draco Malfoy. Anyway, events had spiralled out of control now. Maybe it would be best if they called it a day.
Picking up on Ginny's lack of enthusiasm, relieved she obviously wasn't going to suggest he entreat their guests to stay, Harry did what he always did best at times like this. Stood on the sidelines, pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled weakly as if none of it had anything to do with him.
"Oh, for goodness sake, guys!" Hermione alone was determined to make an effort. "Look, the kids want to be friends. We shouldn't let our old hostilities get in the way of that. I think we should at least..."
But nobody ever found out what Hermione thought they should at least. For from somewhere outside, a shrill, piercing scream rent the air. And, alert as if the Dark Lord had risen from the grave, they moved swiftly then. All save Astoria, immediately raised their wands – although Draco, still conscious of his worn robes, had presence of mind enough to tuck back the sleeve of his wand-wielding hand as if meaning business, and with his other worn sleeve hidden around his wife's waist, kept his wits about him still and hastened guardedly to prevent the badly frayed hem from being seen.
They stood there, the six witches and wizards, in heavy, ominous silence, and five in battle stance.
The garden was empty. The earlier laughter and chatter of the children but a memory now. Rain pattered down lightly in small silver drops. Trimblefeathers, Rose and Hugo's owl, screeched and flew agitatedly through the cluster of trees, from branch to branch to branch, shaking more leaves down in his wake to join the many fallen before.
They called out their names but no-one answered. They cast their spells but they cast in vain. There was no charm to make people appear.
"Scorpius!" Draco roared, his voice hoarse from shouting. Beside him he felt Astoria shake as he too had once shaken in fear. He knew she hated fighting, arguments, and worse...They had lived through a terrible War and War and death must never come again. But if anything had happened to their son through this misguided visit, he would hold Potter, Granger and the Weasleys accountable and could not, would not, be responsible for his actions...
