Please Don't Stop the Rain
"This is the most boring party I've ever been to," Tonks grumbled.
Harry grinned at her. "Look at it this way; at least you don't look like a parade." He scowled down at his very colorful dress robes.
Tonks smirked. "Please…. You're Harry Potter. Parvati and Padma will be mass producing that circus tent by the end of the week."
"And so!" the portly speaker on stage said with gusto, "We go into this new era with high hopes and free spirits, relying on our wits and magic to rebuild…"
"If I had to start a fashion trend, I'd want it to be a good one."
"There's no such thing as a good fashion trend."
The speaker gave a hacking, phlegm cough before continuing. "Our fears dissolved, thanks to the young Mr. Potter—"
At this there was a round of applause. Harry blushed deeply, but managed to smile and nod. He had no idea what the man had been blathering on about.
"And this," the man continued, "is to be a catalyst into the bright, shining future that…"
Anwyl turned a bit in his chair to talk to them. "Mate's been at it for an hour and I still haven't a clue what we're supposed to be listening to."
"Children," Kingsley said in a low rumble, though he was smiling.
Tonks grinned. "I think we should sneak out," she whispered to Harry.
"Do it and you'll be on weekend recruit duty for a month," Kingsley said.
"I'd like to take this time to say," the man on stage said with a deep breath, "that the leadership of this Ministry is…."
"I think that might be a fair trade," Harry mumbled.
"How does anyone think a two hour long speech is a good idea?" Harry asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I've never been so bored in my life."
"I think it was a punishment," Tonks said. "I think Kingsley hired the most boring, long-winded speaker in the history of the Ministry to punish us for the prank war we had two weeks ago."
"You could be right," Harry said, laughing and taking her hand.
They walked up the street toward the hospital's Apparation point. Tonks snuggled closer to Harry as the wind picked up. The street was mostly deserted, except for a few drunken witches and wizards from the event.
"Did you go on the tour of the new ward in St. Mungo's?" Harry asked her, seeing someone come out of the lobby.
"Going next week," she said. "Is that…is that Draco?"
It seemed the man heard them, because he stopped and turned. It was Draco. "Potter. Tonks," he said. His voice was low and gravely, and as they approached they could see he'd been crying. "Tonks, as you're related to me, I suppose you should know…. Mother is dying."
"What? I'm…I'm sorry, Draco. There's nothing…?"
"Nothing the Healers have found. It's Father's doing, so they probably won't find anything. She wanted Andromeda to know."
"She hasn't heard about—"
"No. And I'm not going to tell her."
Harry looked back and forth between them for a moment. He knew Andromeda had died in the war, but he didn't know how or when. He had a feeling he was missing something. After an uncomfortably long silence, he cleared his thoat. "I never got to thank her properly."
Draco pulled a face—it was probably as close to a smirk as he could manage. "I'm sure she wouldn't want it, Potter. My entire family are a bunch selfish bastards, present company excluded," he added, nodding at Tonks. "It was done out of selfish intentions. She wanted to find me, nothing more, nothing less."
Harry was quiet—he'd never thought of it that way. "Er…right."
"Don't worry about it, Potter," Draco said, sniffing. "It's in the past." He nodded at them, and pulled his hood up. He turned to walk away, but stopped as Tonks called to him.
"Draco….Come over whenever you want, right?"
The younger wizard didn't respond, but stayed very still for a moment before walking away.
Harry sat back from the Pensieve with a gasp. He'd spent the morning looking through the memories Neville had sent him. Somewhere between the memory of Neville and Seamus charming the statues to say "Voldemort is going down", and the memory of them rescuing a couple of second years, Harry decided that he wasn't above begging his friend to write a book. Everyone knew about Harry, but he was starting to think that Neville should get the spotlight for once.
He poured the last memory, and ducked his head in.
Neville stood off to the side while Lavender and Seamus comforted a crying girl. "Seamus, a word?"
Seamus walked over. "What is it?"
"Do we know if her parents have really been taken?"
"No idea. Michael's gone quiet. He doesn't know when he'll have any more information."
As he and Neville watched the group, Ginny ran into the common room. "Neville! The Carrows are coming for you!"
Neville was still for a split second before he grabbed his bag and went tearing out of the common room. He ran through the corridors, pausing every once in a while to listen for people coming. He found no one, until he began to climb the stairs to the seventh floor.
"Oi! There he—"
Neville didn't let Amycus finish. He threw a spell his way that had the Death Eater tangled in chains. He tossed a few Dungbombs down at the Slytherins who were coming up behind him, and kept running.
He ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Then he stopped.
The wall changed into a door, and Neville sped inside. The Room of Requirement was small, with a hammock, a desk, and a dresser. There was an adjoining bathroom. He sat down at the desk, panting and shaking. He took out his DA coin, and tapped it with his wand. The letters RoR burned into it. Once they'd disappeared, he did it again, this time writing "Safe". He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. When he came back in, he noticed a portrait of a girl on the wall. She smiled at him, and beckoned for him to follow. The portrait swung open to reveal a passage. Neville paused and stared. Then he climbed in.
Harry sat back. He picked up his wand and sent a Patronus to Neville. He hoped his stag made a convincing "You need to write a book" argument.