Chapter 9
A/N: I'm having so much fun with these last few chapters. I can't wait for you all to see how this comes together and I'm anxious to hear whether you like it as much as I do! Thank you for all of the reviews and encouragement for the last chapter, even though the curveballs I threw were pretty big. Geez, apparently you throw a second wedding out there and people start to panic a bit…
Anyway, enjoy! And please review! I don't own any of this, I just enjoy playing!
Fair warning: this chapter includes spoilers for Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. But really, if you haven't read those or seen those movies yet, what are you really doing here? Go read them!
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Chapter 9
Draco woke up on Friday morning somehow more tired than he had felt when he went to sleep the night before. He had slept restlessly, with fragments of sound and light seeming to try to alert him to something, but never just telling him what it was. It had been enormously frustrating, and when he woke up, he surveyed the room and counted the pillows he had thrown off the bed at various points: five. Also, why did they have so many pillows on their bed? Another thing about life with a woman that he would never understand.
Speaking of that woman, he knew that this weekend at Hogwarts was really important to Hermione, so he dragged himself out of bed, brewed some strong coffee, and took a long, hot shower. This helped his mood considerably, but he still took a pepper-up potion, just for an extra boost.
He apparated to Hogsmeade around 11:00, having chosen to forgo the typical train in favor of efficiency. He had dropped by Lindsay's house one more time beforehand, but again no one was home. He put her out of his mind for now, focusing instead on what was right in front of him. Walking the familiar streets of Hogsmeade, he smiled in the bright sunshine and inwardly felt grateful that the weather was perfect for their weekend away. The walk to Hogwarts was warm and pleasant, and he found himself recognizing some familiar faces along the way. Greg Goyle, along with his wife and children, was far ahead of him when he started the walk, but he caught up to them quickly and slowed his pace so that they could chat. Marigold reached for his hand, and, surprisingly, he didn't flinch at the (sticky) contact.
They also collected Cho Chang and her husband, Marcus Flint, as well as the Patil twins. By the time they entered the Hogwarts grounds, they had assembled a small crowd.
Draco smiled up at the old castle, positive memories flooding back to him. Time spent with friends, doing well in classes, escaping the disfunction of his parents' home… Hogwarts had always been a refuge for him. The crowd was directed out to the back lawn, where a picnic lunch was laid out and waiting for them.
As they walked across the warm grass, Draco spotted Hermione sitting with Harry and Ron on a picnic blanket. Hermione leapt to her feet and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace that made it seem like they had been apart weeks, instead of one night. He found he didn't mind, though, and his arms linked naturally around her back.
Although the two of them only had eyes for each other, everyone else there noticed their embrace as well. Harry grinned at the reunion and Ginny, rejoining his side after her sixteenth trip to the restroom that day (the third trimester was really a bitch), shared in his smile. Ron was oblivious at first, but when he realized the significance of seeing Draco and Hermione happy together, he elbowed Harry in the ribs to point it out to him, as if Harry hadn't seen it for himself. Harry responded with a small roll of his eyes.
The picnic on the lawn was a lively affair, with former classmates greeting each other and talking through old memories. Draco appreciated conversations about the past that he could actually fully participate in, even if some of the recounted memories weren't his favorite to hear again.
"Watch out for hippogriffs, Malfoy," Ron told him at one point. Harry snickered at the memory of Buckbeak "attacking" Draco.
"You two laugh all you want, but I was in grave danger that day," Draco responded with a mock air of seriousness. "That lesson was entirely unsuited for third-years!"
"Hagrid was definitely one of our more interesting teachers," Hermione acknowledged.
"That's one way to put it. What's he doing nowadays?" Draco asked.
"Retired and living it up on a tropical island," Harry told him.
"Really?" Draco was surprised. "I would have thought he'd have been somewhere with more animals."
"Well, he was sort of… placed on the island. For everyone's safety," Harry acknowledged. "But he does genuinely enjoy it! And Norberta, the dragon he hatched, stops by every now and again for a visit."
"Hagrid hatched a dragon? When was this?"
"Our first year, of course! What were you doing?" Ron asked.
"Um, I don't know? Homework? Classes? You know, first-year things?" Draco replied snarkily.
They talked for hours without even realizing it and Hermione laid on her back on the blanket, staring up at the few clouds that had gathered in the sky. She closed her eyes and listened to the people she loved most recounting the happy days of her childhood. Of course, there had been unhappy days, too. Miserable, painful, excruciating days, and there would be time this weekend to revisit those as well and come to peace with them. But, for now, this was enough. It was the happiest afternoon she could remember.
…
That night, they all gathered in the Great Hall for a welcome-back feast, though many were still full from the picnic lunch. This was the event where Hermione would be delivering her toast and she wrung her hands ahead of time, cursing her nerves. Draco looked at her and smiled. He could tell that she was running through the words of her speech and could even see her lips moving slightly. He reached out and took her hands in his, much as he had at the doctor's office a few days earlier.
She looked at him and he could see the nervousness in her eyes.
"You're going to do great. You literally always do great. There's no way that you're not going to do great. And, if by some unbelievable chance of fate you do any less than great, you are in a room filled with people who love you and know how amazing you are, and who will love you just as much as they do now and think just as highly of you," Draco told her genuinely, though he sported a bit of a smirk.
She let out a deep breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding.
"It's just such a big day, and I want to do it justice," she told him.
"I know, and you will. There's no one who could do it more justice." He picked up her hands and kissed them, bringing a smile to her face.
She sat back in her chair and he was pleased to see new confidence in her eyes.
Harry spoke first after everyone had finished their meals. He welcomed them all to Hogwarts for the weekend, joking that he was about to bring out the Sorting Hat and sort them all into dormitories so that they could begin school again. He recognized the retired faculty members who had gathered for the weekend's festivities, including Professor Slughorn, who had retired soon after the war, and Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who had retired the previous year. He thanked Headmistress McGonagall for allowing them to use the castle for the weekend's celebration.
And then he stopped on that word "celebration."
"I think it's important that we own that word this weekend," he announced confidently. "Because we are celebrating, and because we have much to celebrate. It is easy, when we are here and especially when we are commemorating the ten-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, to remember what we have endured and who we have lost, and we should and will do that. But it's also a time for us to celebrate all that we have achieved. We have defeated the greatest threats to safety and equality in our time. We have continued the pursuit of social justice in the years after Voldemort's defeat."
He paused here, and looked around the room with a smile.
"We have assembled at these four long tables, with no regard as to who is a Hufflepuff, a Slytherin, a Ravenclaw, or a Gryffindor, with no regard as to who is a pureblood, a half-blood, a muggleborn, or any of those other meaningless categories. Instead, we are seated with our friends, neighbors, colleagues, and families. That is our greatest achievement. That is the triumph we toast tonight. We have broken barriers and we have established our school and our society as institutions dedicated to continuing that work. We have replaced fear with hope, hatred with camaraderie, ignorance with understanding. Ten years ago, we won the final battle of the war in this room, and we can and should celebrate that victory. But we also celebrate everything we've built in the decade since then, and the work we continue to do."
The room broke out into enraptured applause and at least half of the wizards and witches present dabbed at tears. Draco felt a new pang of appreciation for his former foe and realized, for the first time, that he was sitting at a Ravenclaw table that day. He chuckled to himself, recognizing Potter was correct.
Ron went next. He wasn't one for speeches, so he was given the task of reading the names aloud of everyone that had been lost in the war. Draco had to admit that Ron performed the task respectfully, and he appreciated the difficulty of reading his own brother's name from the list of the dead. Many of the names struck Draco's heart as well, particularly Professor Snape and his friend Vincent Crabbe.
After Ron had finished reading the list, the room held a long moment of silence for those they had lost before raising their glasses to them. Draco imagined his own mentor clinking his glass with his own, and the thought made him smile a little.
Finally, it was Hermione's turn to deliver her toast.
"When I first arrived at Hogwarts," she began, and although Draco could detect a slight shake in her voice, he could also tell that she was growing more confident with every word, "I knew that the thing I wanted, above all else, was to do well. I wanted to be sorted into the correct house, I wanted to impress my professors, I wanted to do well on all of my exams, and I wanted to receive the top marks in all of my classes. I felt insecure, coming from a non-magical family, and overcompensated by driving myself to exceed any expectations anyone could have for me."
Draco realized how much she was putting herself out there in this speech, admitting insecurities and vulnerabilities he was not even aware of.
"And I did do well, and I am proud of that. But, weirdly enough, when I look back on my days at Hogwarts, I don't really remember any of that," she confessed, and her chuckle was echoed by others throughout the room.
"I don't remember the specific lessons, or the homework assignments, or the essays, or the exams. I remember the adventures we had, the friendships we formed, and, most of all, the struggles in which we all willingly took part. What I can see now, ten years after leaving, is that the education we all received at Hogwarts was not one focused on doing well – it was one focused on doing good."
She paused here and swallowed hard.
"Sure, we learned how to brew Polyjuice potion, both in class and outside of it (several people in the crowd chuckled at this mention of her second-year exploits), and we mastered the art of transfiguring teacups into various small animals. But, above all, our professors instilled in us compassion, initiative, creativity, and dedication. And we instilled it in each other as well." Draco noticed many audience members nodding in agreement.
"The Battle of Hogwarts was, in a way, our final exam. It tested our abilities, our focus, and our character. And we came out victorious. We sacrificed much to get there, but we did it together, and we succeeded. I feel like even Professor Snape would give us an Outstanding mark for that battle," she added with a smile.
"So let's raise our glasses," she announced, raising her own, "To our school. To our teachers and mentors, our friends and classmates, and our lessons – both the ones that taught us to do well and the ones that taught us to do good. To Hogwarts," she declared.
Draco was at a loss for words after her speech. He felt so connected to her in that moment and just so… proud of her. He realized in that moment that he not only enjoyed her company and cared about her, but genuinely respected and admired her. And somehow, deep in the recesses of his heart, he knew that he loved her.
He raised his glass, but found he wasn't toasting Hogwarts. He was toasting her, and the man that he must have become to somehow deserve her.
…
Saturday was filled with different events and tours. The guests were treated to a tour of the now-reconstructed castle, and frequent grumbles regarding "how easy students have it these days" could be heard from various quarters. Hermione rolled her eyes at them – she couldn't even find a single difference between the castle of her youth and this one. The stairs still left you marooned when you were late for class, portraits still made fun of you when you tripped in the hallway, and the stone walls seemed just as dusty. It was perfect, really.
The whole group gathered after lunch for the dedication of a monument to the Battle of Hogwarts, placed outside the castle on the school grounds. The statue had been debated for years, as artist after artist tried to capture the spirit and meaning of that battle. Many wanted Harry Potter to be featured in some fashion, but Harry himself vigorously opposed this. The victory was everyone's, he claimed, and focusing on one individual undermined that.
In the end, the final monument was stunning. It depicted a surge of arms raised upward, with wands clenched in determined fists. The wands pointed at the sky, as if ready to cast a spell on the clouds themselves. There were 75 arms in total – one for each of the lives lost during the entire war. Some had wanted only a number matching the casualties of the final battle, but on this point Potter was also adamant. All sacrifices must be recognized, he argued, and he had prevailed.
It was hard to argue with him, after all.
Draco loved the statue and thought that it was perfect. It reminded the viewer of the sacrifice, while still emphasizing strength, determination, and solidarity.
After the dedication, Hermione slipped her hand into his and pulled him away.
"I have something I want to show you," she told him. He looked a bit nervous, and she quickly comforted him with "Don't worry, you'll still make it to the pick-up Quidditch game at 3:00."
Draco muttered a quick "phew" and Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.
She led him down hallways and up staircases and he wondered just where they were going. When they got to the base of a familiar staircase, he felt anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. He had never been able to look at the staircase to the Astronomy Tower the same after Dumbledore's death… and after the role he had played in that great man's demise.
He knew now, of course, that Dumbledore's death had been arranged with Snape ahead of time, but it didn't do much to soften the memory of perhaps the most horrifying night of his young life.
Still, he swallowed his anxiety and followed Hermione up the stairs.
When they emerged on the tower, he had to admit that the view was incredible, particularly on such a beautiful day. Somehow he was able to set aside his memories for the moment and just enjoy being there with Hermione.
She stood at the railing, gazing over the beautiful grounds. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"This view is stunning," he told her, placing a kiss below her ear in the process. "Thank you for bringing me here."
Hermione spun in his arms and smiled.
"I agree that the view is stunning, but that's now why I brought you here."
Draco arched an eyebrow in confusion and interest.
"I know that this tower has been significant to you, but what you might not know is that it is also quite significant to us."
Hermione led Draco to a small table where a pensieve had been placed.
"I brought this up here earlier and thought I could show you one of my favorite memories while we're here," she explained.
"And what memory is that?" Draco asked.
"Well, let's just watch and find out," she responded with a smirk.
They both smiled as they descended through the mist into the memory.
As the fog settled and the memory crystallized around them, Draco looked around, trying to put everything together. He saw himself and Hermione walking down a stone hallway. They were in Hogwarts – he recognized the suit of armor on the left. His theory was confirmed when he saw Headmistress McGonagall walking with them.
"Thank you again for coming. I think this program will be well-received by the students next year and I'm looking forward to our partnership," McGonagall told them, shaking their hands.
"What were we doing at Hogwarts?" Present-Draco asked Hermione.
"We were there to talk about a new internship program for sixth- and seventh-year students at Malfoy Magical – you were hoping to recruit promising young Potions and Herbology students."
They watched their past selves thank Minerva for having them and exchange other polite pleasantries.
As they turned to leave, McGonagall caught Past-Draco's arm lightly.
"I am sorry for your loss, Draco. I know that your relationship with your father was complicated, but he was still your father, and I know this is still a difficult time for you," she told him gently.
Past-Draco politely accepted her condolences, but Present-Draco could tell that he did not want to talk about Lucius.
"This was a couple of weeks after Lucius's death," Present-Hermione whispered to Present-Draco.
"You don't have to whisper during a memory, you know," he told her with a smirk.
"I always forget about that," she admitted.
They watched their past selves walk down the hallway to leave, but suddenly Past-Draco stopped Past-Hermione.
"I have one more thing I need to do before we leave. Will you come with me?" he asked her.
"Of course," Past-Hermione agreed, and she followed him down another corridor.
Present-Draco and Hermione followed their past selves to the same staircase they had just climbed – the one to the astronomy tower. It felt a bit trippy, Draco had to admit, to make the same walk several minutes – and years – apart simultaneously.
He watched his past self, excited to see what memory this was, but also curious to see if he could pick up on any clues that could help him unravel the mystery of how he lost his memory.
He could tell that his past self was definitely nervous, and that wasn't comforting. He was barely looking at Hermione and seemed to be having trouble swallowing.
Draco almost wondered if this was going to be a sad memory, but he knew Hermione wouldn't have showed him it if it was. Still, he wasn't the only one picking up on his nerves – Past-Hermione also watched him anxiously. At one point, she reached for his elbow and asked him if he was ok. Past-Draco assured her he was and took a deep breath.
Present-Draco and Hermione watched their past selves survey the Hogwarts grounds from the view, just as they had moments before.
Finally, Past-Draco turned to Past-Hermione and took her hands in his. Present-Draco felt the moment building and his own heart rate speed up. Present-Hermione reached for his hand.
"I brought you here today because I have to ask you something, and I feel like I have to ask you here," Past-Draco began. Past-Hermione replied with only a puzzled expression.
"This is a difficult place for me to revisit, and I know that you know that," he continued, still not making full eye contact and shuffling his feet nervously.
"This tower is the site of one of the worst nights of my life – maybe the worst, when it comes down to it. When I came to this tower that night in sixth year, I felt like I had no control over my own life. I had no choice but to fulfill the will of that psychopath. I had no way out, no way forward. All I could do was follow orders and try to survive," he told her.
"You know none of what happened that night was your fault," Past-Hermione reassured him.
"I know, but even with the knowledge of Dumbledore and Snape planning the whole thing and everything that came afterward, I still remember how empty I felt that night, and how low."
He paused here, and he looked up, making eye contact for the first time.
"But I also recognize that that night was a turning point for me. It was the night I decided to leave my parents and join the Order, and I started planning as soon as I got home, though I couldn't leave until my trace disappeared. But that night changed my life, and it wasn't Dumbledore's death, although that was also traumatic – but it was what he told me before his death."
Here, Past-Hermione looked curious, and Present-Draco could tell that he had not told her this part of the story. He remembered this all vividly, and as he watched his past self tell the tale, it all came back to him crystal-clear.
"I came to this tower that night," his past self explained, "to kill Albus Dumbledore. I felt that I had no power, no choice, and no way out. And he knew that was why I was there. And, in spite of that, he still spent his last moments on this earth talking to me and preparing me. That night, Dumbledore talked to me about choices. He told me that we all have choices in this life, and at first I disregarded him, because really, what choice did I have? But as he started talking about a young man who made all the wrong choices, it occurred to me that he was right. Tom Riddle was a mortal who made choices. Voldemort wasn't this unconquerable force of evil – he was a human being who made horrible, evil choices. And he would only be defeated if others made just as powerful choices."
"I entered the tower that night feeling as if I had no choice but to be there, but when I left, I knew otherwise. I knew that choice was the most powerful weapon I had left, and one that I could and must yield. So I did," he told her.
"And you contributed so much to the Order," Hermione told him with a smile.
"I like to think that I did," Draco replied humbly. "I can see now that the choices I made in those early days were pivotal and set me on the course that helped me remake my life."
"So you see," he said, turning to look at the tower again, this time with a small smile. "This was the site of the worst night of my life, but every day and night after that has been better, specifically because of that night."
"I'm glad you brought me here and told me this," Hermione told him kindly.
"I'm happy to share this with you," Draco told her honestly, "But it's not why I brought you here. I asked you to come here with me tonight because I'm ready to make another choice that will fundamentally alter the path of my life, and I need you to make this choice with me. And I couldn't think of a better place to ask you."
Past-Hermione gasped with the realization of what was happening, and Present-Draco felt Present-Hermione suck in a breath in the exact same moment, almost as if she was so caught up in the scene that she was forgetting she had already lived this memory.
He watched his past self sink to one knee and produce a small box from his pocket. He felt tears prick his eyes and, without even thinking about it, wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and kissed her forehead.
He watched his past self propose to the love of his life, telling her that he had spent his life trying to become a person that would be worthy of someone like her and that he couldn't imagine a happier life than one spent with her. He watched his hand tremble as he took the ring out of the box. He listened as Past-Draco asked Past-Hermione if she would spend the rest of her life with him, and waited with baited breath for her answer, as if he didn't already know the ending.
She said yes, of course, and Past-Draco twirled Past-Hermione around in the air, kissing her deeply and burying his hands in her hair when they stopped spinning.
Present-Hermione reached for her husband's hand and smiled, pulling them both out of the memory.
When they arrived on the astronomy tower again, they were both quiet for a moment, overwhelmed by what they had seen.
"Thank you so much for showing me that," Draco told her honestly. He wanted to interrogate the memory for clues or deeper meanings, to taunt himself with thoughts like "I wonder if your second proposal was just as beautiful since you had two weddings, you jackass," and to obsess over every detail, but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to do any of that.
Because standing in front of him was the most perfect woman he had ever met, and, if he was being totally honest with himself, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her just as much as his past self had the last time they had stood on this astronomy tower.
With no other thoughts in the world, he took her face in his hands and kissed her as if he had just proposed, as if she had just said yes, and as if they had the rest of their lives to spend together.
…
Draco did get to the Quidditch pick-up game that afternoon, but he couldn't focus on anything. All he could see was the emotion in his past self's eyes when he had looked at Hermione.
That was real. There was no mistaking it. He knew he was grief-stricken after Lucius's death, but surely that proposal was genuine. He really and truly wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
And Hermione was so smart and astute – surely she would have realized if he was only proposing out of some need to get even with Lucius – she would have known him well enough to see that.
He ducked to his left, narrowly avoiding a bludger (some alumni had wanted to skip the bludgers during their pick-up game, but he and Potter had enforced strict authenticity), and decided that he needed to focus on the game before he rendered himself unable to dance – or walk – that night.
After two hours or so, the players packed up and headed back to the castle to prepare for the evening's ball. Draco walked back up to the castle with Harry; their wives had stayed behind to catch up and relax a bit.
Draco told Harry about the memory he had seen that morning.
"Is it weird?" Harry asked, "Watching these memories of yourself that you don't remember?"
"It is a bit," Draco confessed. "Especially this one, because in the memory I was recounting something that I do remember, but I had no memory of what we watched in the memory itself. I remember the thing I was describing, but I don't remember describing it."
Harry stared at him, confused for a moment, but eventually worked it out.
"Is it weird to be around a guy who doesn't remember the last eight years?" Draco asked.
"Not as weird as you would think," Harry told him. "You were always pretty forgetful. Blew me off the last three times we were supposed to get lunch, never returned my owls, that sort of thing."
"Yeah, I don't think that's the memory, Potter," Draco told him with a smirk. "I think I just don't like you that much."
"Oh yeah, that's it," Harry agreed, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget you're my – "
"Fourth best friend," Draco interrupted with a grin. "Yes, Potter, I remember. See, my memory can be quite good when I want it to be," he told him.
…
The ball that night put their fourth-year Yule Ball to shame, primarily because they were now all of drinking age and didn't need to rely on the Weasley twins spiking the punch with something gross and cheap. Now, the wine and champagne poured freely, and everyone (minus Ginny) enjoyed the libations.
In the center of the room, a glittering tower of magically-enchanted champagne flutes stood twinkling and spinning – a perfect centerpiece for a grand celebration.
Draco and Hermione danced the night away. They weren't the only ones, either. Draco watched as unlikely couples took to the floor all around them. There was Michael Corner dancing with Millicent Bulstrode. Lavender Brown and Justin Finch-Fletchley had apparently been married for two years. Everywhere he looked, Draco saw classmates together whom he would never in a million years have thought could even stand each other. It made him realize that he and Hermione were not that unlikely of a pair after all.
At one point, Hermione saw Neville, and told Draco that she was going to go ask him about that girl he was maybe seeing, but Draco quickly distracted her with a question about the current status of Hogwarts house elves and she completely forgot her previous goal. He paid for it, though – 25 minutes worth of description.
He held Hermione in his arms during one slow song toward the end of the night and couldn't shake the feeling of just how lucky he was. There was no way he would have done anything to sacrifice this life – he was just sure of it.
Hermione looked up at him and he reached a hand out to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
"What are you thinking?" he asked her.
"I'm thinking about how perfect this weekend has been, and how much we needed it," Hermione told him.
"I was thinking about that too," Draco replied with a smile.
"I know that this weekend is supposed to be about the war, but in a way, it feels like a reunion for us too," she added.
The song ended, but Draco heard the notes of another slow one beginning, so he kept his arms around his wife, content to spend the rest of the evening just like this.
Hermione perked up in his arms and looked around. Draco followed her gaze curiously.
"Who requested this song?" she asked with a smile. "Maybe it was Harry?"
Draco paused and listened to the music. It had a vintage feel – like the music Hermione and his mother liked – and he could tell it was one of her favorites, just by how she was acting. He listened as the vocals started and heard the Carpenters singing, but that didn't help him understand what the big deal was.
"What song is this?" he asked. As he said it, though, he realized that something about it sounded very familiar – he couldn't explain why, but somehow it seemed to click in his mind. Hermione opened her mouth to tell him what song it was…
But then, several things happened all at once.
Harry had indeed requested the song, but as he walked over to Hermione to tell her that, he bumped into Neville, who stepped a few paces out of the way and onto a puddle in the center of the floor.
The puddle was Ron's fault, really, because he had had one too many drinks and had spilled the last one while trying to look at his watch for the time. After he spilled, his only focus was on obtaining another beverage, and not on cleaning up the one that now lay splashed across the floor. Ginny thought about cleaning it up, but she was so large that she could barely bend over to tie her own shoes, so she quickly decided that that mess was really someone else's responsibility.
So it really wasn't Neville's fault at all, although some attendees pointed out the next day that many people had walked through the spill without sliding the whole way across the dance floor as Neville had. And he could have watched where he was going a little more carefully.
And it wasn't so much that he slipped – it was what happened afterwards. He didn't just fall down gracefully, or even just fall down ungracefully. Instead, he slid across the entire floor, landing in the center of the room.
What stopped his slide, of course, was the enormous floating collection of crystal champagne flutes, which collapsed with one of the loudest noises anyone in the room had ever heard.
For a moment, the room was completely silent. Broken glass and champagne was everywhere and no one wanted to move, for fear of stepping on a shard. Neville stood up, cut and bruised but clearly alive and mostly unharmed.
Nobody could think of what to say, but luckily Ron redeemed himself, springing into the center of the room and drunkenly shouting "We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter's the one!"
"And Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!" The rest of the room shouted in unison, echoing Peeves' famous celebration. Said-poltergeist had been banished to the dungeons for the weekend, but upon hearing his most famous declaration, used all of his spiritual force and energy to break free.
He burst into the ballroom, spinning and shouting. He picked up trays of uneaten appetizers and began hurling them at the guests. He didn't dislike them, and was genuinely happy they were there, but it had been so long since he could get into such mischief, and they all looked so nice. And in quoting him, weren't they really welcoming this type of havoc?
The guests screamed and ran for cover, while Harry laughed and declared the ball over – it was supposed to end in ten minutes anyway.
"So not quite a perfect weekend," Hermione declared after they had escaped the chaos of the Great Hall. She had completely forgotten about the final song, both because of the party's raucous ending and the six glasses of wine she had consumed that night.
"I think this just made it better," Draco replied with a laugh, also forgetting the song.
They headed back to their guest room, where they fell asleep almost instantly after all of the day's activities. With their last moments awake, Draco turned to Hermione, snaking his arm around her and pulling her close.
"Did you ever think about saying no?" he asked. He didn't need to explain that he was talking about their proposal: they both immediately knew what he was referring to.
"Not for a second," Hermione told him.
"We hadn't even dated a year," he reminded her.
"I would have said yes on our second date," she replied with a yawn.
He chuckled at that, adding that their first date must surely have been impressive then, but she was already asleep and couldn't respond to his cheek.
…
The sun dawned brightly the next morning, and Draco was glad he had packed headache potion in preparation for the aftermath of the festivities. Hermione was thankful that he had packed extra for her.
The morning was spent packing and squeezing in last-minute chats with people they hadn't managed to catch up with during the weekend. There were so many promises to get lunch or hang out on a Saturday that Draco thought their calendar would be packed for the rest of the year.
Hermione asked him to take a postcard to the Owlery so that she could send a note to Luna, who was still abroad and couldn't make the celebration. He walked the halls of the castle smiling to himself and enjoying the sunshine pouring through the windows. So many of his memories of Hogwarts involved rain and snow: it was almost odd to be here in nicer weather.
It had been a perfect weekend, really. Even the chaotic ending of the previous evening added a note of hilarity to everything. Nothing had seemed amiss with Hermione or anyone else. In watching their proposal, he remained more convinced than ever that they had genuinely been in love. And he hadn't met anyone named Lindsay all weekend, so that was a bonus.
And then, when he was walking along a hallway near the Charms classroom, he was hit by a memory: a strong, clear memory.
Except, it wasn't a memory from the past eight years. It was one from the Battle of Hogwarts, ten years earlier.
He had arrived at the castle with the Order, knowing that he would be facing his old allies who were now his adversaries, including his own family. Still, he had signed up for this, and he wouldn't miss this final battle.
For a long time, he hadn't seen Lucius. Draco had been positioned near the Battlements above the Great Hall and had fought with Dolohov, Scabior, and a number of others whose names he had never known. He didn't mind not seeing Lucius: he didn't particularly want to, particularly if that run-in would involve a battle. He wasn't sure how he and his father would duel, and didn't want to experience it if he could help it.
Once their position seemed secure, Lupin told him that the Owlery needed reinforcements, so Draco ran there as quickly as he could, running along this very corridor.
When he reached this point in the hallway, his worst nightmare had come true: Lucius, standing alone, directly in front of him.
Draco stopped short and held his wand aloft warily, staring at his father.
Lucius looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly settled into his dueling stance.
"So it has come to this," the patriarch announced.
"Get out of my way," Draco told him.
"You're in my way," Lucius replied.
"I don't have time for this," Draco told him, and he tried to push past his father, but Lucius waved his wand and Draco fell backward.
"Are we doing this then?" Draco asked, standing up and whipping a curse at Lucius, though his father easily ducked it.
"You would fight your own father for those mudbloods and traitors?" Lucius sneered.
"I would fight anyone for my friends and my alliance," Draco declared proudly.
"You have turned your back on everything I taught you," Lucius told him.
"Gladly," Draco replied with cheek. "Now get out of my way, or I will not hesitate."
Lucius seemed thoughtful for a moment before reaching into his robes. Draco watched warily, not letting his wand waver.
Lucius produced a small vial holding some sort of liquid. He tossed it to Draco, who caught it, worried that if it shattered on the ground the contents would harm him.
"What is this?" he asked Lucius.
"It's a way out, should you choose it," his father told him, carefully choosing his words. "When you wake up one day and realize how big of a mistake you've made with all of this, you'll thank me for it, trust me."
Draco rolled his eyes impatiently at his father and shoved the vial into his pocket. He ran past him and kept running to the Owlery, where he fought bravely until the news of Potter's supposed death pulled everyone outside.
Now, Draco stood in the empty hallway, still filled with sunshine after a lovely reunion weekend, and gripped the wall as the clarity of the memory washed over him.
He had always been proud of both his father and himself for not battling each other that day. In fact, it was the only reason he had agreed to speak to his father after the war – until the incident with the Graphorn, he now knew.
But, now it wasn't that part of the memory that had his attention: it was that stupid vial.
He knew, now, that he had had a means to erase his memory. It was there, right in front of him. That was what his father had meant that day – and apparently he had taken him up on the offer a decade later.
He tried to remember what he had done with that vial after the war. Surely he had disposed of it, right? And yet, he knew he hadn't. He remembered exactly where he kept it in that old bachelor flat.
He stood still in the hallway and, as a cloud rolled across the sun, he thought it was a perfect symbol of what had just happened to his spirit.
This changed everything.
.
.
Author's Note: I promise this is the last chapter that will end on a sad/scary note – from here, things start to pick up and there will be answers! But dang, things seem dark right now, don't they?
A couple of citations – I used the movie version of the Draco/Dumbledore/Astronomy Tower scene, because the dialog fit my story better. Sacrilegious, I know. Also, the Peeves quote is a direct quote from p. 746 of Deathly Hallows.
I hope you liked this chapter, even if it might have felt a bit like filler. I enjoyed writing the speeches and planning the monument – and I thought the whole reunion weekend really grounded Draco in the present-day. There are also a few clues scattered through this chapter, believe it or not!