I don't own Harry Potter, STILL. Rarararar!
AN: And I have achieved burnout. Oh, hell.
J. Kovac, stop reading my fan fiction and study for your exams. Yes, I just called you out. And that goes for all you other readers. Stay in school! ;) Eau-bleu, you have disabled PMs so I couldn't respond to your review and tell you thanks and such. So, thanks and such. I'm so glad to air all the private things I have to say out here, where everyone can see. But I guess I shouldn't hide my love. I hope you're enjoying The Better Claim. Mwah.
Finally, letting you know that the aforementioned story, The Better Claim, was nominated over at the Dramione Awards on Live journal (just search LJ) and voting for the seconding phase (which ends April 30th) is going on right now. I'd love to make it to the finals. Please vote for me. Vote for me so hard.
Hmm…I think there's a chapter around here somewhere.
Oh, I lied. This is turning into an epic AN, isn't it? Just wanted to add that I'm totes on Twitter under MargotGentry, so feel free to follow me and I will follow you back. I don't talk about my writing all the time, but some of my other ramblings are fun. Occasionally. You know, for those of you in love with my AN's, they're sort of like a condensed version. But not always.
Meh, chapter.
Draco stood on the porch, watching as his father stumbled down the steps and into the sunshine. Lucius stopped a few meters away and bent over at the waist, dropping his cane and putting his hands on his knees. He was breathing hard and his long hair fell across his face, hiding the tears there from his son.
But Draco knew he was crying, nonetheless. Mostly because he was still crying, himself. He leaned against one of the posts and then slid down against it until he was sitting, still propped up by the post. He just didn't have the energy to support himself just then. It was a miracle either of them had made it from the living room before Hermione had really lost it.
Of course, that was a bad idea, thinking of Hermione, because then he was thinking of how sad, how grieved she'd looked as she'd heard Lucius' tale. And that only made him think of how awful Ginny had looked, which in turn brought him back to why they both looked that way- it was a terrible cycle. He reached into himself for a shred of his old habit of compartmentalization, found himself lacking, and slumped over to rest his head in his hands.
Lucius ignored his son as caught his breath, then toppled backwards and sat down hard on his ass. He dropped his cane beside himself and sat there, leaning back on his hands, one leg drawn up and the other stretched out. The breeze picked up briefly, then died down again.
He felt strangely…alive. Strangely free. It didn't make him feel any better, or happier, but there was a relief that came with the telling; with finally letting others know the truth of what had happened that dreadful night. He gazed up at the wide blue expanse of sky and breathed deep, then looked over to the porch, to his son.
Draco was still sitting, looking utterly lost. Lucius called to him.
"Come sit with me."
Draco jerked his head up and saw his father there, in the grass, motioning to him. Wearily, he stood up and wandered over, then plopped down beside him.
"Really, Dad?" he said. "Sitting in the grass? What's next, cloud watching?"
"I know I deserve that," Lucius said and Draco started to protest, to apologize, but his father cut him off. "I do. I deserve all your censure, your anger. No matter how much you love me, these last years haven't been easy. You deserved to know the truth long ago, too. I should have been braver, I should have been a father you could be proud of. And I'm sorry for that. I only hope you can forgive me, someday, and forgive yourself, as well."
"For what? For all the things I should have done, too?" Draco said and Lucius shook his head.
"No, for hating me even while you loved me."
Draco froze, but a parade of expressions made their way across his face while he stared at his father. His face finally crumpled and he looked away, willing the tears to recede. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, shut it again. His father sat there, gazing off across the hills, not saying anything either. Just quiet acceptance.
It wasn't like Draco could really deny it, after all. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat.
"Thanks, Dad."
Lucius merely smiled sadly and continued to watch the world around him. Nearby, birds hopped about where Hermione had scattered some seed. Ahead of them, a butterfly and some bees flitted and buzzed about the thick stand of flowering shrubs at the head of the rather wild garden. The fickle breeze carried a myriad of scents to them through the hot midday air. Pine, ash, holly, boxwoods. All flowering and with new, green growth.
But over it all Draco could still smell that blasted orange and juniper. And she wasn't even anywhere near them- He stopped, leaned his head over, and suddenly sniffed at his shirt.
Merlin's fucking balls. It was in the laundry detergent, too. And what else was there? A note of…lavender? No, rosemary. Oh, for fuck's-
"Just realized that everything in the house smells like her, did you?" Lucius asked from his other side and he looked over at his father, a blush staining his cheeks. One of Lucius' brows was raised inquiringly and Draco sighed.
"Is that it?"
"Mm, yes," Lucius replied nonchalantly. "And I'm sorry for what I said to you about her, earlier, as well. You didn't deserve that. It was quite uncalled for."
"You're right about that much. It's not as if I'm in love with her. I just feel sorry for her."
"And she feels sorry for you."
"Yeah, that's about it."
Draco drew his knees up and wrapped his arms about them, hooking his hands together in front and stared off at the shrubs moodily. Lucius nodded sagely and would have made some remark, but Draco looked at him sharply and suddenly silenced him.
"Don't. It's peaceful out here and we're both upset from what just happened in there, so can we please just enjoy it without you picking at me again?"
Lucius pursed his lips and Draco rolled his eyes.
"You know," he said, "I think I almost prefer the old you." He cracked a smile at his dad a second later, but Lucius merely raised that imperial brow once more.
"I prefer him, too," he murmured. Draco's grin fell and he put a hand to Lucius' shoulder, letting his legs sprawl beside his father's.
"Aw, Dad," he whispered.
And watching the birds and insects make their happy lives, they remained, unmoving, in companionable misery.
Ginny recovered herself slowly and after a solid fifteen minutes of tears, she finally lifted her head and unlatched her arms from Hermione's waist.
"Oh, god," she mumbled, wiping her cheeks and blowing her nose again. "That didn't really just happen, did it?"
Hermione sat down beside her and shrugged, blowing her own nose and raking a hand through her frizzing hair.
"Afraid it did," she said quietly. "I suppose we should call Harry, now. That's all the proof we need about Zabini, isn't it?"
Ginny stopped and stared at Hermione in horror. "Harry?"
"Well- yes. He is an auror. It's his job to know- and I know he can help."
"Oh, hell," Ginny said, and hung her head in her hands again. "Oh, hell."
"Gin? What is it?"
"Harry," Ginny wailed. "I was supposed to meet him for lunch today!"
"So? It's not- oh. It is noon, already. Where were you supposed to meet?"
"The café- but by now he'll be wondering where I am-"
"Ginny, hold off. What's the problem? We need to talk to him anyway-"
"Yes, but not like this!" Ginny shrieked, gesturing to herself, then Hermione. "We look a complete mess, and my make-up's all run off, and I need a bath, and I just can't, Hermione! Not right now, not after all that." She looked dreadfully close to tears again and Hermione sighed, rubbed at her own face, and finally put an arm about her friend's shoulders.
"Alright. Then why don't I call him and leave a message for you-"
"No, he'd just come out here then, probably, or call and insist on speaking with me-"
"Ginny, he'll be doing all that anyway the longer you let it go. But if you'd rather leave him a message yourself, why not go home and then come back? You know, get a change of things from your flat and then come back here so we can finish discussing what you do want to do about it all."
Ginny paled. "My flat."
"Yes, your flat-" Hermione stopped as suddenly. "Oh. That's right."
"Yeah. Zabini." Ginny began to look very nervous. Then the expression was replaced with an encroaching anger. "Zabini. That fucking-"
"Ginny, stop it. You're just going to upset yourself again."
"Hermione, how can you be so calm about it? That was your life, too. And- and Malfoy's mother, even! She died to help save us, died because fucking Zabini betrayed them!"
"One of us has to be calm. You think I'm not coming apart inside? I just held you and cried my eyes out with you for the second time today. Don't try to turn this around-"
But Ginny was not to be consoled, or calmed.
"I'm going to kill him," she hissed suddenly and then spun on her heel.
"Ginny-" Hermione grabbed for her, but she was out the door and running before Hermione could catch her. Heading straight down the drive, to get clear of the wards.
Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. If Ginny left now, confronted Zabini now, while she was still so upset, so distraught…nothing good could come of it.
Hermione reached for the phone first, ready to dial Harry's number. But no, it wasn't like he had a cellular. She quickly dialed his beeper number instead, running to the front door and keeping Ginny in her sights as she did.
The phone rang, and the pager registered the number. She couldn't leave a message, but Harry would know it was an emergency…except Harry wouldn't get it in time, and even when he did, he'd have to call her. And what if he'd forgotten his pager, left it at home? What if Ginny got there first and managed to cause some kind of damage anyway? Or worse, Blaise did? After all, no warding was perfect. Even the best of spells could be broken if under enough stress.
Hermione lowered the phone and gazed out the door, her face pale. Then she threw the phone onto the hall table and took off out the door, herself.
"Ginny!" she yelled after her retreating friend. "Ginny, wait!"
She was kicking up dust, and the wind was blowing her hair all around, but she didn't care. Her simple flats that were fine for around the house didn't want to stay on her feet and the pebbles of the drive bit into the soles, but it didn't matter. She suddenly had nothing but visions of Ginny storming into her flat and all hell breaking loose. It wouldn't work. It was a terrible idea. Mob mentality never ended well- hadn't they seen it destroy their own lives? She ran faster. She had to stop Ginny, somehow.
Draco and Lucius heard Hermione yelling for Ginny at the same time. They both turned and stared at the house, then heard the sound of a door banging shut. Seconds later a phone began ringing. Draco leapt up and helped his father stand. They glanced at each other, identical thoughts in their heads.
"You go," Lucius said at the same time Draco murmured, "You get the telephone."
They nodded to one another and then Draco was running, into the house, leaving the door wide open for his father. He paused in the living room long enough to see that neither woman was there and then headed out the front door.
Meters ahead of him, far down the drive, he could see Hermione running and calling after another speck of dust that looked suspiciously red-headed.
He immediately joined the pursuit. His long legs began to overtake Hermione and he called out to her.
"Hermione!"
His voice broke her concentration and she turned her head to see who it was, making her miss her footing and go tumbling down.
She'd been running so fast she actually rolled over before sliding to a stop, but it didn't impede her progress, not entirely. She was scrambling to her feet again and yelling after Ginny like nothing had happened a moment later. Draco caught up to her and Hermione glared at him before her face collapsed back into worry, one arm gesturing in the red-head's direction.
"Draco, Ginny- her flat- Zabini-"
She didn't have to say anything else, because Draco grabbed her hand and immediately put on an extra burst of speed. In seconds he was dragging Hermione along behind him as she struggled to keep up. Hermione's heart was fluttering in her throat at all the possibilities and she wanted nothing more than to be back in her living room, discussing things like the adults they were supposed to be.
At least pretending to be civilized and not the bundles of issues and psychotherapy they actually were.
They flew down the driveway, feet pounding, breath coming short and hard, sun beating down on them- and then there it was, the end of the lane. The fence marking the line of the wards. And Ginny was just sliding to a halt over it.
Hermione pulled back hard on Draco's hand and he slowed, let Hermione pass him. Ginny didn't turn around, ignoring them both as she looked down the road both ways to check for vehicles.
Hermione opened her mouth, extended her hands to her friend, started to smile-
And Ginny disappeared.
Hermione gave a little scream and ran forward those last few steps. "Ginny!" she yelled. "Ginny! Oh my god-" She spun back around and looked at Draco with such terror, such need, that he felt something pull at him from deep inside. He stepped forward.
"The phone was ringing as I came after you. Dad said he would get it, but we didn't know what the problem was. Will whoever it is-"
"No," Hermione said shortly. "No, that would be Harry, calling me back. But he doesn't know…though he might guess at something. I don't know." She frowned and leaned against the fence, turned her head to look at the spot Ginny had vacated. Her arms were around her middle as she tried to hold herself still from the sheer nerves.
"Damn it," she murmured. "Not now. She always did have a temper, but she doesn't need this now. No one does."
She suddenly thrust her chin up and then stared hard at the spot where Ginny had been. She sighed, ran a hand through her tangled locks, and sighed again. The seconds ticked by. There was something building in the air around her; and Draco nearly took a step back when he recognized that it was more than tension; it was resolve. Which would have been alright, except he didn't know what she was resolving.
Then she turned her eyes on him and the old set of her jaw, the determination on her face, nearly obliterated the effect of her scars. He narrowed his eyes, lifted his own chin in response to that authority.
She'd reached a decision and he was prepared to follow her, whatever it was.
"Draco," she said, "I haven't apparated in nearly eight years."
He knew immediately what she meant to do.
"I can't help you there," he replied. "I've done it more recently than that, but you know I'm not allowed any magic-"
"That's not what I meant," she said and he frowned slightly, suddenly confused. His brow cleared again a moment later.
"Oh," he said. More seconds ticked by. He knew Ginny might not have that time, she was so out of her mind. He held out his hand.
"Alright, then."
Hermione didn't smile gratefully, or nod her head, or say thank you, but she didn't need to. He understood, and his face said so. So she simply took his hand and closed her fingers about his tightly; and her eyes met his for a brief, glorious second of acceptance.
Then Hermione looked down at their intertwined fingers and with a mutter of, "Like riding a bicycle," they turned on the spot.
The phone rang for a tenth time before the voice telling him he needed more change came on again and Harry slammed the receiver down once more.
"Damn it all!" he swore, much to the shock of a passing mother and child who were on their way to the loo. Harry shot them a chagrined glance, then dug in his pocket for more change. He'd picked the muggle café because it was quaint and somewhat romantic and Ginny had been there once before, and had liked it. He'd remembered her mentioning it from an outing with Clearwater, once, and of course he'd been saving that information for use on just such an occasion as this.
And instead, Ginny was twenty minutes late; the baristas kept shooting him dirty glances for hogging an entire table when it was just himself; and to top it all off, Hermione had paged him and now wasn't answering her phone.
One more call, he told himself and inserted more coins. One more call and then I'll have to go there right away- she only pages for emergencies- and what if it's something to do with Ginny anyway-
"Er, hello?" said a raspy, older male voice.
That wasn't a good sign.
"Is this Lucius?" Harry asked quickly. "Where's Hermione? What's happened?"
"I don't really know," Lucius replied.
"What took you so long?"
"The- telephone-" and he said the word so disdainfully that Harry nearly wanted to laugh. Nearly. "Er, was not on its stand. I had to find it. And my mobility is rather limited at the moment. I'm not as quick on my feet as I once was."
Yes, and thank heaven for that, Harry thought silently. Aloud he said, "So? Hermione? You really don't know anything?"
"I know," said Lucius, "that Miss Granger and Miss Weasley were here just minutes ago. They seem to have left the house now and were headed down the driveway. Draco went after them, as it appeared that Miss Granger was distressed, since she was calling after her friend."
"But nothing else?" Well, that was alright. Just one of their fights- although they had occasionally been volatile. He would go anyway, just to check up.
"Their disposition may have had something to do with me," Lucius responded cautiously. "We were discussing upsetting material- at their request," he added hastily, hearing Harry seething on his end.
"And are they still there?" Harry asked quietly.
"I really cannot say, but Draco ran after them. One moment, please."
Harry heard Lucius set the phone down and assumed he'd gone to call for them, or check outside. A minute later the older man picked up again.
"I can no longer see them from the house."
"Damn!" Harry exclaimed, catching the mother and child on their way back from the loo. He nodded apologetically again. The mother glared at him. He sighed and turned his attention back to the phone. "You're sure?"
"My eyesight is not what it used to be-"
"Ok, Lucius, alright. Stay there. I'm going to check Ginny's flat first and if I can't find her there, I'll come straight out to the farm and help you look."
"Quite," Lucius replied. He resisted the urge to ask Harry exactly where the younger wizard thought he might go, in the meantime. Not that it mattered, as Harry hung up a second later with no response, due to his tearing from the cafe.
There was a click and Lucius put the phone back on its stand gingerly, then stood back and eyed it for a moment. Much to his embarrassment, he'd lied to Potter. He'd missed only Potter's first call from searching for the phone. The other eight accidental hang-ups after that were because he couldn't figure out which button to press to answer the call.
Infuriating, incomprehensible muggle devices.
From its stand, the phone beeped at him and he stumbled back from it. Then, with a regal sneer at the device, he walked out the front door and settled himself on the front steps to wait for someone- anybody- to return. He couldn't say that he was truly worried for his son- Draco was nobody's fool, not after all he'd gone through to keep them on the run, then keep them safe in prison. But Miss Granger, and Miss Weasley…they were another matter. Besides, if being worried for them had been good enough for Narcissa, it could be good enough for him, now.
From inside the house phone beeped again, but this time Lucius ignored it and continued to stare stalwartly down the road, waiting.
AN: Ooooh, the melodrama, aaaah!!!!! Help me, save me from the melodramaaa...*gurglegurgle*
