THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!
Draco Malfoy – Saturday, September 9th, 2000
Out of support for Harry, I go with him over to the café to say goodbye to the Weasel before he goes back to Paris. When we first arrive, everyone is greeting Harry, asking him how he is feeling, how his check-up at the hospital went, and whether or not the two of us were planning on remaining Bonded. After a few agonizing minutes of him having to explain that his recovery went well and we are indeed going to stay Bonded, the group finally allows him some space. The Weasel gives a mind-numbingly boring speech about how he is sorry for leaving, but he feels it is where he is meant to be and he will miss them all terribly. Blah, blah, blah.
"Are you sure that this is really the best choice?" Neville asks hesitantly.
"Yeah, I am," the Weasel confirms. "I've been up all night tossing and turning over this. There are a lot of factors to consider and obviously the decision wasn't easy. But I can't explain it – there's just a gut feeling that I have. I know that it's the place for me to be at this point in my life. Maybe somewhere down the line I'll be able to come back again. But right now I need to be there."
"You'll come back and visit, though, won't you?" his sister, Ginny or whatever, asks with a hopeful tone.
"Of course," he assures her. "I'm not going to forget any of you. And I can always come back and visit. You should all come visit me in Paris sometime, too. I'd love to show you around. It's quite beautiful there."
"Yes, so we've heard," Granger mutters bitterly.
"Don't worry, Gin," Weasley continues, ignoring Granger's comment. "I promise I'll come back and visit."
"Yeah, because rumor has it your promises mean so much," I say smugly, winking at Granger, who tries desperately to hide a smile.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Weasley growls at me angrily.
"I'm fairly certain I know enough. After all, I've been the one here with them while you've been off doing whatever the fuck you think is so important."
"Hey! You don't h –!"
"Okay, boys, that's enough," Ginny interjects, putting her hands up to separate us. "Put those things away and zip up."
With an irritated huff, I back away and sit down in one of the armchairs, pulling Harry down onto my lap and wrapping my arms around his waist possessively. To my satisfaction, this seems to frustrate Weasley further, but he doesn't say a word. Despite my efforts to mend relationships with Harry's other friends, the Weasel is too much for me to handle. Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult if I didn't know, from the Bond, how much he has hurt Harry. He is strong and keeps a brave face about the fact that he is going back to Paris, probably for Granger's sake mostly, but I can feel the reality of how this is affecting him.
The Weasel continues talking to his other friends as if I'm not even there. After a few moments, Granger stands up quietly and walks outside to sit at one of the tables set up outside the café. Kissing Harry on the neck to gain his attention, I nod toward her. He nods in return, standing to let me up from underneath him. Harry remains inside with the others as I go outside. The bell chimes as I open the door, causing Granger to look up at me. I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to say to her, but she did include me in her reasons for declining Weasley's offer to join him in Paris, so perhaps I owe her something. Besides, it does give me an excuse to get away from him.
"What are you doing out here?" I ask, slightly unsure how to interact with her, and taking a seat across from her at the table.
"I just needed to get out of there," she replies grimly. "I'm sorry, I must seem so pathetic. It's just that I thought – we were supposed to be – it doesn't really matter anymore, I suppose."
"I don't think you're pathetic, Granger. Although, I don't quite understand why you care so much about Weasley. He's not exactly a charmer."
"You probably don't have the best view of him to make an accurate judgment, Draco. I've known Ron for a really long time. He's always been loyal and a wonderful friend, but lately he seems to be more concerned with his career."
"Well, we wouldn't want love to fuck with his social climbing."
"I understand where it comes from, to an extent. It hasn't always been easy for him to be the best friend of Harry Potter. It's quite a large shadow to be cast behind. And after growing up with so many siblings, and then being compared to Harry, I think he just wants to make something of himself. He wants people to notice him for something other than 'Harry Potter's friend.' But I never thought he'd be willing to give up his friends and family for it."
"Well, as 'the husband of Harry Potter,' I'd say it's not quite fair. Sure, it must suck growing up with no money and hundreds of siblings. I'm sure he'd like to know what it's like to actually be someone. But you said that he has the opportunity to do that here. It's not like it's Potter's fault that Weasley is trapped in his shadow around here."
"You think that Ron wants to go back to Paris because Harry isn't as famous there as he is here?"
"There is no way of knowing that for sure. All I'm saying is that it makes sense. I'm sure it's much easier to get out from behind the Chosen One's shadow when you're miles and miles away from him."
"Where does that leave me?" Granger leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyebrows pointed in skepticism. "Am I supposed to be alone forever because everyone is afraid of getting stuck in Harry's shadow?"
"Alone forever? Weasley is a git, Granger, and if he cares more about his career and social standing than he cares for you, then that's just him. It doesn't mean everyone is going to be that way. Besides, Granger, you're still in your twenties. I think you have a little more time before you have to start collecting cats. And you already have one, so your collection is already off to a respectable start."
Her jaw drops slightly for a moment at my words, but after a second she laughs – a genuine laugh. This may be the first time I've ever seen her laugh. It manages to calm my nerves, making me more comfortable with her. Her hair is still frizzy, but is not nearly as large as it used to be. I can actually see her face past it now. Admittedly she is quite beautiful. It's a shame that she thought she had to rely on Weasley. Her eyes seem to shimmer as she stares through the café windows at her group of friends all sitting around together.
"So, you and Harry really decided to remain Bonded?" Granger finally says, still staring through the window.
"Does that surprise you?" I ask, unsure whether or not I want to know the answer.
"No, it doesn't." She looks over at me, a small smile on her lips. "I've never seen Harry so happy. And despite all your efforts to be a man of mystery, it was obvious that you loved him. It wouldn't have made any sense for the two of you to separate."
"It doesn't seem strange to you at all?"
"That the two of you are together? No. A bit unexpected at first, I suppose. But I don't think it's strange. Especially not now that I've seen you two together."
"I'm not so sure I'm used to it yet. It always seemed so impossible, and now that's it actually happening – I don't know – I feel like I'm going to mess it up somehow. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. You say that it's so obvious that I love him, but I don't know how to show him that. He told me he wants me to let him and all that."
"I have an idea, actually," she tells me, standing up from her seat. "Come with me."
Without even waiting for me to say anything, she starts walking down the street, motioning for me to follow her. Glancing back through the window at Harry in a moment's hesitation, I wonder whether or not I should tell him that I'm leaving first. Instead, I focus as hard as possible on the back of his head, which after only a short moment of this causes him to raise his head and look back over his shoulder at me. A large smile spreads across his face when he sees me. I simply point a finger over at Granger, who has paused to wait for me. Harry nods in understanding and waves. Returning the wave, I begin walking after Granger down the street. It isn't until we are in an empty alleyway that she finally stops and turns to face me.
"If you're planning on murdering me, I'd find an alleyway that isn't so close to where we were just seen together," I say, glancing suspiciously around the alley.
"I have no intention of murdering you, Draco," Granger huffs. She holds her hand out to me, clearly expecting me to take it. "I want to take you somewhere and I don't want any Muggles to see us."
If there was any such moment to hesitate, it would be the moment when someone you spent years bullying – who also happens to be exceptionally talented with magic – has you alone and wants to take you somewhere without telling you where you're going. Although, in this particular situation, one could probably argue that, out of the two of us, Granger is the more trustworthy one. Relinquishing control over the situation, I grab her hand and shut my eyes, waiting for the nauseating feeling that accompanies Apparation.
After the usual twisting and turning, I open my eyes and look around. We are standing in the middle of a road with tons of small cottages and shops. Granger begins walking down the road through the village. A woman and her young child are out in the front yard of one of the cottages, planting flowers in the flowerbeds. She waves at us as we walk by. Absently waving back, we both continue to walk down through the rows of cottages. It isn't until we reach a specific cottage that I finally realize where exactly we are. The cottage is almost completely destroyed and the sign in front of it is covered in little messages.
"We're in Godric's Hollow, aren't we?" I ask in surprise, staring in awe at the home where my husband lost his family, where the love of my life could have been killed.
"Yes," Granger whispers, as if the remains of the house are so fragile that speaking too loudly could bring the rest of it down.
"I don't understand. Why did you bring me here?"
A pale arm stretches across my line of sight to point my attention over to something else. When my gaze follows her guidance, they land on another cottage with a large sign posted up in the front yard with the words "for sale" written in large, red letters. Granger grasps my arm, dragging me toward the other cottage. The realtor is inspecting the front yard, writing things down on a clipboard. As she notices the two of us walking up to the home, a large, most likely fake, smile spreads across her face.
"Hello there, dears," the realtor greets us cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Very beautiful," Granger agrees politely. "So, how long has this place been for sale? I noticed the sign the last time I was here visiting someone."
"Oh, quite a while now. It seems that small villages aren't really the main focus for people these days. They all seem to prefer to live closer to all the action. It's a shame, as well, because it's such a lovely home and the community is so friendly. You wouldn't happen to be interested, would you?"
"Well, no, not me. But my friend, Draco, here might be interested."
"Really? You're looking for a new home, gorgeous?" the realtor turns to me expectantly.
"Well, I recently got, er, married," I tell the woman awkwardly, still finding it difficult to say. It's going to take a while to get used to the idea.
"Married?" the realtor repeats. "Goodness, you're so young! Well, this home would be perfect for a new couple starting out. Would you like to take a look inside?"
"Oh, um, sure, that would be great."
"You go ahead," Granger insists. "I'm going to go take a look in some of the shops for some house warming gifts."
Granger winks at me before walking back down the road toward the shops. The realtor leads the way inside the cottage. As soon as we cross the threshold, I can see Harry and myself all over the home. Mental images of us reading on the sofa in front of the fireplace, teasing each other while making breakfast in the kitchen, showering together – it's so easy for me to imagine us living here together. It seems a bit strange to be moving away from my mother. But then again, why shouldn't Harry be able to live close to his own parents.
"The home comes fully furnished," the realtor explains, showing me through all of the different rooms in the cottage. Obviously I'm going to have to use magic to alter a few things. Otherwise it seems perfect. As the realtor continue telling me all about the home, the village, the friendly neighbors, and all of the other selling points she can come up with, I'm making a list of all of the changes I'm going to make to the furniture and such to make it more personal. The color scheme of this cottage is not acceptable.
"You don't have to sell me," I finally cut her off. "Just tell me what I need to do."
The expression of pleasant surprise on her face widens her smile. She pulls a sheet of paper from her clipboard and hands it to me. "If I can have you fill out this form. I can have the rest of the paperwork drawn up. Taking a few moments to fill out the form she gave me, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of anxiety. I hope that Harry is going to be happy about this. What if being so close to where he lost his parents is going to make him sad? Then again, Granger is the one who brought me here and suggested this. If living here would bother him, she would know that and she wouldn't suggest it.
"There you go," I say after I'm finished filling out there form, handing it back to her.
She glances down at it and her eyes widen. "Black-Potter? Potter? As in Harry Potter?"
"You know about Harry?"
"Yes, of course. You must be from the Wizarding World as well. So, you're married to Harry Potter, then? This really is the perfect place for you to live."
"Listen, it's kind of important that we keep this between us. He's been through a lot lately and I don't think he's ready for the world to know about this."
"Not to worry, sir, I am very discrete. I will be very professional. Well, seeing as we're both part of the Wizarding World, this process can go much faster. I can have that paperwork made up right now."
The woman pulls her wand out of a secret pocket inside of her jacket and waves it at a stack of papers. The papers begin shuffling and writing appears on each page. Her smile seems much more genuine now. Once the paperwork has been magically drawn up, within only a matter of minutes, the realtor and I both sign our names in the designated places. Merlin, it seems like signing the paperwork takes longer than actually creating the bloody paperwork. But it's worth it. The realtor holds the stack of forms tightly, a triumphant smile on her face.
"Congratulations, you are officially a home owner."