A/N
I can't really think of much to say in the A/N today. So here's the obligatory stuff. JK Rowling is of course God ... and came up with this whole Harry Potter thing. It is merely our humble duty here at FFN to rip off the books mercilessly, and have tremendous fun doing so. Lyrics from 'If You're Going To San Francisco' were used without permission too. I hope plenty of you are sticking with this, and I've written so many times about how I value reviews and your input, so if I've failed to move you to review before ... make this the time you write something. I look forward to reading them. As you can see, this is a bumper edition, and once again, you may need tissues for bits of this.
Chapter 10.
It was nearly six in the evening when the little convoy pulled into Hogsmeade. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad had cordoned off the village square to allow the Ministry cars safe passage through the barrage of reporters that had descended upon Hogsmeade. Harry turned his face away, and hid his children from view. Draco crouched down on the floor, afraid he would be seen like this.
Sirius lived in a large, rambling stone house just outside the village. It occupied a commanding position by the station, and overlooking the twisting road that led up the hillside to Hogwarts, which was perched high up, overlooking the village. Harry knew Sirius' home well of old, and was always comforted to be there. The house elves had lit fires in every room, and there was a delicious smell emanating from the kitchen. Harry and the children were shown into the living room by a particularly obliging specimen, wearing a Royal Wedding souvenir tea towel.
"Thank you," said Harry, hoarsely. The house elf bobbed up and down in gratitude, then scampered from the room.
"We're just whipping up a little dinner," said Sirius, striding into the room. "I thought we'd ... oh."
He'd noticed what William and Rebecca had noticed. There were piles of brightly wrapped presents stacked around the base of the Christmas tree. Some of them had labels on saying 'To Hermione.'
"We don't have to open if you don't feel like it," said Sirius. "There's plenty of time."
"I think Hermi would prefer it if we did," said Harry. "She'd never have wanted people to be miserable on her account."
Sirius beamed warmly. "Whatever you say Harry. Come on kids, I'll show you your rooms."
Draco stood up, uncertainly. Sirius beamed even more. "Yes, you as well. I've put you in with Will and Andy. Is that okay?"
Draco nodded, somewhat sheepishly, and followed Sirius out of the room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a pair of William's jeans that were actually too small for him.
Ron and Fleur came into the room, having just been giving themselves a guided tour of Sirius' house.
"Nice place he has here," said Ron, in a tone of forced jollity. Evidently the news that he was Lucius Malfoy's target had shaken him up.
"It's very special," said Fleur. "Should we sit down?"
Harry nodded. "If you feel like it," he said.
They took seats on the sofa facing the window. The room was filled with curiosities Sirius had amassed on his travels. There was a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling, tribal shields on the walls and a Zulu spear standing in one corner. One entire wall was lined with bookshelves. Sirius had become a great collector of rare volumes in his old age ... there were some that even Hogwarts did not possess in it's vast library. Harry also knew that if you pulled one of the books, a section of wall would swing round, revealing an old passage, leading directly into the school. Sirius told him Professor Lupin was wont to use it whenever he needed a break from marking.
"Harry," began Ron. "There's something I think I ought to tell you."
Harry looked up. "If it's about Lucius Malfoy ... I already know. Sirius told me earlier."
Ron looked a little put out at this. "Actually, yes, that was what I was going to say ... I assume Sirius told you he played some part in it."
"I don't blame you for what happened," said Harry. "I think that's what you were getting at."
"I do," murmured Ron. "I blame myself completely."
"It would, be nice to know why you killed him. What you were doing?" Harry hinted, but Ron just shook his head.
"You have to believe me Harry. If I could ... if I was allowed to tell you, then you'd know, you'd be the first to know."
"Ron ... I know some secrets that would make your hair go white," said Harry.
He didn't hear Ron's reply, but it sounded like. "So do I."
"I'm not going to push the matter further," said Harry. "I'm confident you'll tell me when you're good and ready," he turned his attention back to Sirius' Christmas tree. There was a small owl hooting somewhere in the branches.
Ron, however, looked distraught. He badly wanted to tell Harry what had happened. It was a long story, stretching back to the very day they left Hogwarts, when Ron had been approached at the Graduation Ball by two cloaked men, who had made him an offer he could not very well have refused. He had wanted to ... at first he hadn't thought he was up to the job they wanted him for. He had tried to steer them in Harry's direction, but he had already signed a contract to play Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps. Besides, as the men had said, to employ Potter would have been a liability. They couldn't afford to have famous faces aboard, and Harry would likely attract the wrong kind of attention. Ron had not questioned them further.
He wasn't sure if he would ever be good and ready, though Harry's confidence in him was touching, under the circumstances.
Draco, William and Andy came back into the room, Draco still slouching miserably. Andy went over to Ron, and sat down between him and Fleur. Ron ruffled his hair. William sat down on the floor at Harry's feet. Draco, who was evidently feeling very self-conscious, stayed standing.
"Sirius wants to know what time you'd like to eat," said William, looking up at his father.
"Anytime is fine," said Harry. "I'm not especially hungry."
"You ought to eat," said Fleur. "I would waste away if I don't get some food soon."
"You're in no danger of that dear," said Ron.
"I'll tell him whenever then, shall I?" asked William, impatient for an answer. Harry nodded grimly, and William scrambled to his feet to go and tell Sirius.
"He seems to be taking it well," said Ron.
Harry shook his head. He knew his son better than that. "He's trying not to show it in front of anybody," he said.
Draco was looking more melancholy than ever. He sat down in one of the armchairs, and stared at his feet.
"What's eating you?" asked Harry, trying to sound friendly.
Draco shrugged. Then he turned to Harry ... there seemed to be a look of desperate pleading in his eyes. He coughed, then said. "I ... it's my fault really, isn't it?"
"If you want me to tell you that it is Draco, then you're going to be disappointed," said Harry.
"But it is," Draco insisted. "I ... if I had stood up to my Father."
"By all accounts, you did everything you could to stop him," said Harry. "Going by ... what I used to think of you, I would have expected you to give in. That you didn't ... I think that says something about you Draco."
Draco cocked his head on one side. "What did you think of me?" he asked.
"I always thought you were an irksome little git," said Harry. "I won't pretend I wasn't pleased when I heard they'd sent you to Azkaban."
Ron didn't say anything, though the expression on his face betrayed what he was thinking.
"It doesn't matter anyway," said Draco. "It's still my fault."
A knocking sound, seemingly coming from inside the bookcase, made them all jump. Harry heard a voice calling. "Sirius? You there old chap?"
Harry got up, and hurried over to the false section of the bookcase. He racked his brains to try and remember what book it was he needed to pull ... Sirius had told him once before. It was something like...
"Hello. Is anybody home?" this, in Remus Lupin's voice.
It was staring Harry in the face. 'How to Open Magical Doors' by Paul Hear. Despite himself, he smiled, and gave the book a tug. Ron stared at him in some alarm ... he had not, obviously, seen Sirius' revolving bookcase in action before.
"What are you up to?" he asked.
There was the sound of badly oiled machinery squeaking to life, and then a faint rumbling sound. The section of bookcase swung round. There were four people standing there; Remus Lupin, Professor McGonagall, looking much older and even more severe, Hagrid and Severus Snape, who had shaved off his goatee.
"Hello Harry," said Remus, in a deadened voice. "We thought we'd come and see how you were."
He shook Harry warmly by the hand. Hagrid stepped forwards ... he was holding a bunch of lilies. He enveloped Harry in a bear hug so tight it threatened to break his ribs. Despite being close to ninety years old now, and unable to get around without a stick, Hagrid still retained the strength and presence he had done when he had been a sprightly sixty eight year old.
"Good to see yeh Harry," he mumbled. "I'm ... I'm so sorry."
Professor McGonagall eyed them coldly. She stepped forwards as Hagrid released Harry. "I was sorry to hear of your loss Harry," she began. "Hermione was a great friend to all of us."
"For my part, I'm sorry too," said Snape, shaking Harry's hand with a warmth of feeling Harry had previously thought he never had. That handshake probably meant more to him than the condolences of all the others.
"Thank you sir," said Harry.
"It's Severus now Harry," said Snape. "I'm not your teacher anymore," Draco, standing on the other side of the room, caught his eye. He shifted awkwardly.
"Who is this ankle biter?" asked Snape. "We haven't seen him at Hogwarts now have we?"
"Actually, you have," began Draco. Harry stopped him.
"This is Draco Malfoy Professor," he explained. Draco scowled malevolently.
"I find that very hard to believe," said Snape, removing his spectacles, the better to survey Draco. "Did the old boy have a son then? He never told any of us."
"I don't think you quite understand sir," said Draco, stepping forwards, wringing his hands. "I am Draco Malfoy."
Snape shook his head. "I can't quite believe that," he maintained. "Did someone use the Puerus Curse on him or something?"
At this point he realised he was the only one in the room not nodding gravely.
He craned closer. "Is that really you Draco?"
Draco nodded.
"Then good to see you my boy. Many of us have dreamed of recapturing our youth. I see you have succeeded."
"It wasn't actually me," said Draco, but he never got a chance to explain, for Sirius poked his head around the living room door, and announced dinner at that point. They trooped obediently into the dining room, where Sirius' house elves, Stinky and Twinky, had prepared them a substantial spread. There were even candles.
"Do sit down," said Sirius. The house elves, still wearing their tea towels, were crouched on the table, ready to begin serving. Harry knew Hermione would not have approved, and he wondered if she was watching them now.
"We'll forego standing on ceremony," said Professor McGonagall to the other Hogwarts staff. "I think perhaps a toast?"
Stinky leapt forwards, and poured a little of the wine into each of their glasses. He paused as he passed Draco, then filled his glass anyway. McGonagall gave the elf an angry stare.
"I think," she rose to her feet. "I'd like to propose a toast to Hermione ... who has been cruelly taken from us in the prime of her life," a tear trickled down her face. "At this difficult time, we honour her life, and remember her as she would have wanted to be remembered."
The others, including Draco, raised their glasses, and muttered their tributes. Harry looked as bad as ever.
"I don't think I can take it," he gulped. Fleur put her arm around him, and hugged him.
Stinky and Twinky returned to their carving. Sirius had tracked down a very large hock of ham. There were great platters of vegetables to go with it.
"Say when sir," Twinky said to Harry, loading his plate with ham.
"That's plenty," said Harry.
"You should eat more," said Fleur, regarding Harry's dinner with sorrow. "You'll waste away."
"You'll excuse me Fleur," said Harry. "But I'm not in the mood for eating much."
Fleur withdrew her arm. "Of course not. I'm sorry, I was being insensitive."
Hagrid leant over, and filled Harry's wine glass up to the brim. Harry gave him a smile of thanks.
"Hagrid didn't want to come," said Remus. "Did you?"
"D'int think yeh'd want us here," said Hagrid. "Time fer family, 'ent it?"
"You are practically family," said Harry.
"Aye," murmured Hagrid. "S'what they told us yeh'd say."
"Do we ... know what happened yet?" asked Snape.
Harry nodded. "There was a break in," he said. "She was ... I'm sorry ... I don't want to talk about it."
McGonagall and Remus shot Snape a look. "We quite understand Harry," said McGonagall, quietly.
"Thank you," said Harry. He picked up his wine glass and sipped it. Fleur helped him to vegetables.
The mood at table was subdued. Snape, Harry could tell, was itching to find out what had happened, and in itself, he had no objection to that. He just didn't want to talk about it yet. His loss was still weighing too heavy on his heart.
"Tuck in," said Sirius. "No point in letting it go cold. Thank you Stinky. Thank you Twinky. You may retire."
The house elves bowed low, leapt off the table and scampered out of the door to continue work on the dessert.
"They make my life a little easier," said Sirius, pausing with a forkful of mashed potato halfway to his mouth. "With all the travelling I do, it's nice to be able to come home and know my slippers will have been warmed, and there'll be a glass of mead and a crusty sandwich waiting for me, and someone will have drawn me a bath."
McGonagall nodded her agreement. "They are a mixed blessing," she said. "They're too willing to please, we've had terrible trouble with students stealing food from the kitchens," she glanced meaningfully at the children, and William, Andy and Mary, who were sitting at the opposite end of the table to her, between Sirius and Ron. They looked down at their plates.
"I can see how that would be a problem," said Sirius, making an effort to smile. "Harry, you okay?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm not," he said. "Excuse me, I think I need to be alone," he pushed back his chair, stood up, and left the room. They heard his footsteps on the stairs. Mary too was staring forlornly at her dinner. She had not touched a scrap.
"Should I go after him?" asked Remus. McGonagall shook her head.
"Best to leave him be," she said. "I think he's still in shock."
"This has come as a great shock to all of us," said Sirius. "We'll just have to muddle through the best we can."
Draco was itching to say something, but kept his mouth shut. He was very hungry indeed, not having really eaten properly since his lunch at the Bull, now two whole days away.
"I think I'd like to remember her for her unfailing devotion to her studies," said McGonagall, staring into space. "She was the most remarkable student I ever had the pleasure to teach. Would that others were more like her."
Remus snorted. "She always was feisty," he said. "She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to go about getting it. See what she made of her life?"
Snape spoke up. "My abiding memory," he said. "Will be of a girl utterly devoted to her friends. She would never leave them. I could never split them up," he smiled at the memory. "Much as I tried," he added.
Hagrid grinned through his extravagant beard. "She always had a good word for me," he said. "She always stuck by me, even when nobody else would."
Ron was staring into his food, desperately trying to stop himself from crying in front of his children.
"I'd like to say," he began. "She was without any doubt, the best. I remember we didn't get on at first. It was me and Harry, and then her. She would have nothing to do with us. Funny how I remember that now."
Sirius shook his head gravely. "Friendship is a fickle bedfellow," he said, at long last, spearing a whole new potato on his fork. The others chewed slowly. It was evident that nobody felt much like talking. "We should all learn not to neglect it. You never know when it'll be gone for good."
McGonagall nodded. "Perhaps we should talk about better times," she prompted. "We don't want to go to bed crying our eyes out, after all," the glare that William shot her across the table silenced her. Evidently some people did want to go to bed crying their eyes out. She blushed beetroot red, and added. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."
"I dare say you were overcome by the moment Minerva," said Snape, going for the dish of carrots.
William, on the other hand, was quite alarmed to see Snape on such amiable terms. The last time they had met, just four days earlier, Snape had taken ten points from Gryffindor when he had turned up two minutes late. This new, tactful Snape was quite a shock to him. He turned to Andy, who was sitting next to him, looking just as astonished.
"I thought Snape was horrible," he whispered. William nodded his agreement.
"Be polite lads," said Ron, noticing.
"Sorry Dad."
"Yeah, sorry."
Draco couldn't help smiling. Even though he still felt thirty five, his condition made him feel a certain affinity, even an alliance with the children, and he was definitely certain he shouldn't be being allowed any alcohol.
McGonagall spoke again. "I suppose, there will be a funeral?"
"You'd have to speak to Harry about that," said Sirius. "And I'm not certain now would be the time to discuss it."
"She always said she wanted something quiet," said William, almost muttering the words. McGonagall turned to look in his direction. "She never said she wanted a fuss."
"I'm sure she didn't," said Sirius.
William continued. "I asked her once ...what she thought dying'd be like? She said she always hoped it would be quiet, and peaceful, surrounded by the people she loved. She also said she didn't want to be mourned like this."
"Sometimes," said Sirius. "The wishes of the living must be more important that those of the dead. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd like to mourn for Hermione ... who wouldn't feel it'd be right if they didn't. Do you see what I mean William?"
William nodded. "She wanted it to be quiet though."
"I'm sure we can arrange that."
McGonagall leant over the table. "I think you're being very, very brave Will," she said ... the first time she had ever called him by his Christian name. "I wish I had your stoicism."
"I know I'll see her again one day," said William, quietly. "So will Rebecca. We all will."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry was sitting on his bed, in one of Sirius' many guest rooms. William slipped quietly in, and closed the door behind him. It was obvious his father had been crying ... there were screwed up Kleenex tissues all over the floor, and Harry looked dejected, drained of all his previous life and humour. He was listening to a Dire Straits album on the CD player.
"I used to love this song," he said. "Got me through many a summer at the Dursleys. Seems silly really ... I just spotted it in Sirius' record collection, and I thought I ought to have a listen. Seemed right, y'know?"
"Dad?"
William came and sat on the bed next to him. "You okay Will?" asked Harry, putting his arm around his shoulders.
William shook his head. "I didn't want to stay downstairs," he said. "They were being too depressing."
"Yeah, adults get like that," said Harry. "You have to forgive them. We're not nearly as balanced as you kids."
William managed a wan smile.
"It's okay to cry you know," said Harry. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Look at the state of me."
William shook his head. "I feel empty inside," he said.
"You don't need to hide it ... understand? That's all I'm saying. We should all cheer up for Christmas. Hermione wouldn't like to think she'd ruined the holidays for us. We can still open our presents eh? Same as usual?"
"It can't be the same," breathed William, hoarsely. "It can't be the same without Mum. And you can't pretend it will be," he took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
"I guess not. Huh ... you sure told me eh?" said Harry.
"Why are you pretending it didn't happen?" asked William, holding his father closely.
"Will, that's the last thing I'm pretending," said Harry. "I just, I just still can't quite believe it."
"I know what you mean."
"It feels like she's going to walk right in through that door, any minute, and it's all going to be okay ... like we'd never found Draco in the woods ... like we'd just made that snowman, and then gone home, and had a drink. And then ... everything would have been normal. But it's not, and this is reality and the thing I want to be reality isn't. I have to deal with this," he paused. "Will, I want her back ... I want her back so badly."
William could see the tears once more seeping out of his eyes. He picked up the box of tissues.
"Thanks. You're a good boy," sniffed Harry. He hugged William tightly. At that moment, William knew he was going to start as well. He couldn't play act anymore. He couldn't carry on like this for Rebecca's benefit. His eyes were burning, and he screwed up his face.
"God I want her back Will," gasped Harry. "I want her back with us."
"Me too Dad. Me too."
Harry cradled the sobbing child in his arms.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Molly Weasley stirred. She was a heavy sleeper, even in her old age, and rarely woke up for anything ... so she was puzzled now as to why she had been disturbed from her slumber. She sat up in bed, and fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table. She put them on, and the bedroom swum into focus. Arthur was still sleeping soundly next to her. She picked up her wand.
"Lumos," she whispered.
She checked the alarm clock. It was ten past midnight. That meant it was Christmas Day already. Though it didn't retain the excitement it had done when there had been seven children in the house, she was still filled with a comfortably warm glow at the thought.
She heard the noise again. A clattering outside, as if somebody was knocking over the dustbins.
"Arthur," she whispered, prodding her sleeping husband in the side with her wand. "Arthur, wake up."
Arthur sat up in bed, blinking heavily. "What ever is the matter Molly?" he asked. "Why are you awake?"
"I heard something in the garden," said Molly. "It rattled the dustbins."
"Probably just a fox. Go back to sleep."
Molly wasn't so sure. She waited until she heard his snores again, and then stepped gingerly out of bed, feeling for her slippers. She walked softly over to the door, took her dressing gown off the hook where it hung, and put it on. Then she opened the bedroom door. It creaked ... the hinges needed oiling, but Arthur didn't wake up.
She thought she heard movement in the kitchen. The night sky was clear, and there was moonlight shining in through the windows. She tiptoed down the stairs. There was definitely a shadow in the kitchen ... it was moving about.
"Hello!" she said. "Who's there?" she wished she had one of the boys with her to help. They'd have seen the intruder off.
The shadow froze. She heard what sounded like a muffled swearword. The intruder stepped out of the kitchen.
It was Molly's turn to freeze. The intruder was dressed from head to toe in a black velvet cloak, the hood of which covered his face.
"Who are you?" she breathed. "What do you want here?"
"I'm looking for something," hissed the intruder.
"You'll find no money here," protested Molly. "Why don't you just leave folk like us alone?"
The intruder chuckled. "I would have no use for your pitiful wealth woman," he snarled. "How much is it. Ten, twenty galleons? Hardly worth keeping a Gringott's account open for is it? You might as well keep it under your mattress. I gather many old people do."
"How dare you!" growled Mrs Weasley. She raised her wand. The intruder reached into the folds of his cloak, and withdrew his own weapon.
"Who will fire first?" he asked. "Such a quandary my dear. There is no need for you to be scared of me. Just give me the information I seek, and I shall leave you be ... unharmed."
"What do you want?" gasped Molly.
"Information. I am seeking your son."
"Which one?"
"Ronald," he said. "Where is he?"
"What do you want my Ron for?" asked Molly.
"Let's just say ... revenge is sweet," said the intruder. "I have good reason to seek vengeance upon the one who so nearly ended my life."
"Ron's just a broomstick salesman!" cried Molly. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. He wouldn't ... he's a big softie really ... he cries if he sees a spider!"
"I seek not evidence of your son's cowardice, but evidence of his whereabouts," hissed the intruder.
"I swear to God, Ron isn't a murderer. Leave him be..." she was cut off in mid flow.
"Ron has lied to you. He has never sold a single broomstick," the intruder said. "I suggest you acquaint yourself with your son's activities, before they destroy him ... as they most assuredly will. Now where is he?"
"I don't know."
"Madam, I am, of course, well versed in the use of the Imperius Curse, as well as sundry others that could be used to bend you to my will. Are we familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, or Avada Kedavra?"
Molly nodded. "You wouldn't. Nobody would risk Azkaban."
"If I am caught now," said the intruder. "It will make no difference ... I have used those curses on those who sought to stop me before. Now one lies dead, and the other in fear for his miserable life."
"I don't know where he is."
"All I have to say is Crucio," said the intruder. "I am told it is pain beyond belief, beyond your wildest nightmares. I cannot however, speak from experience. I can only speak from the perspective of a witness."
Molly looked at his wand, which was pointed straight at her dressing gown. "He was going to spend Christmas ... with Sirius."
"Sirius Black?"
Molly nodded.
"Famed betrayer of James and Lily Potter?"
"He's innocent. They cleared him fifteen years ago," protested Molly.
"Yet his hands are sullied with their blood even now," said the intruder. "How ironic. Sirius Black resides in Hogsmeade, does he not?"
Molly nodded.
"Then that is where I must go. I bid you farewell madam," he turned, and stalked out the way he had come, banging the kitchen door shut as he went. Molly heard the sound as he Disapparated outside.
"Whatever happened?" a voice said. Arthur was standing at the top of the stairs, in his night-shirt, brandishing his wand.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Draco turned over. He was lying awake, even though it was well past midnight. He could hear William's breath coming in short gasps, and Andy's gentle snoring. William had cried himself to sleep that night. He had pretended to be asleep, to block out the pitiful sobs, that in his heart he still believed were the markings of a coward. But now he was starting to see William with a new respect. He looked upon the boy's sleeping form.
Footsteps went past on the landing outside. Somewhere in the house, a toilet flushed. The adults were evidently coming to bed. They had offered to let him stay up, but he had pleaded tiredness, as was the truth, and gone to bed along with the rest of them.
He heard voices, and sat up in bed to listen.
"Harry," someone hissed. It sounded like Fleur. Though she had lived in England for thirteen years now, her accent was recognisably French.
"Yes?" he heard Harry's voice.
"Are you okay now?"
Draco assumed Harry had either nodded or shaken his head, the latter, more likely, for he didn't hear his reply.
"I think you should get some rest. Things will seem better in the morning."
"You're probably right. Well ... goodnight Fleur."
"Goodnight. Sleep well."
A door shut softly, and all was silence, save for the hissing of the cistern. Draco stared up at the ceiling. This was obviously Will's room whenever the Potter's stayed over with Sirius. There was a light in the shape of a space rocket dangling from the ceiling, and the wallpaper had the Guildford Griffins coat of arms all over it. Someone had put a lot of effort into this room.
Somewhere down in Hogsmeade, an owl hooted. Draco fell asleep at long last.
* * * * * * * * * * *
And awoke again. Bright light was streaming through the windows. Despite himself, a surge of excitement swept through his body. It was Christmas morning! He checked at the bottom of his bed for presents, not really expecting to find any. To his surprise, he found a small package wrapped in gold paper. He picked it up gleefully. He had expected less than this! Someone had written 'Happy Xmas Draco' on it in black marker pen. He felt like a little kid again. Then he remembered ... he still was.
William was still asleep. At some point in the night he had thrown his duvet onto the floor, and the sheets were a tangled mess around him. Draco was not altogether surprised to see a bulging pillowcase of gifts at the foot of the other boy's bed. Andy had the same. Well, thought Draco to himself, as he shook his present to see if it rattled or not. He couldn't really expect the same.
Andy stirred. A shock of bright red hair emerged from underneath his covers. He was blinking rapidly.
"'Lo," he said to Draco. Draco smiled at him.
"Happy Christmas," he whispered. Andy smiled. "I'd have got you something ... but I think you have plenty."
There was the sound of running water in the bathroom next door, and a voice, evidently confident that it couldn't be heard, singing.
"If you're going, to San Franciscooooo!"
Draco smirked at Andy. "Who do you think it is?"
"Be sure to wear ... some flowers in your hair!"
"Probably Dad," said Andy.
"Da da de dum, de dum de dum de da!"
William had been woken up by Ron's less than tuneful singing.
"Happy Christmas," said Draco, turning to face him. There were nominally two beds in the room, so Draco had been accommodated on a fold away camp bed between the two ... it was comfortable, after a fashion, although a spring had been poking him in the small of the back all night.
William made a valiant effort to smile.
"Presents?" asked Andy.
William nodded. He carefully rearranged his duvet, reached forwards, and grabbed the pillowcase.
"I only ever got a stocking," said Draco, pretending to look grumpy.
Andy giggled, then stopped himself, but William didn't seem to have minded. "Did you get anything Draco?" he asked, brushing his untidy hair out of his eyes.
Draco nodded, and held up the package.
"Bet it's socks," said William. "Dad has a thing about socks. Open it!"
"Yeah, go on," prompted Andy.
Draco grinned, then set to work on his present. It wasn't squashy enough to be socks, he thought, as he opened it. It was a small, round tin of little chocolates, with a picture of a grinning wizard on the lid. It wasn't much ... but Draco was, all the same, touched that they had remembered him.
"Is that it?" asked Andy, looking disappointed on Draco's behalf.
"Doesn't matter," said Draco. "I was kind of an unexpected guest, you might say," he didn't dare admit that it was more than he could have hoped for if events had transpired differently, and he had been stuck at home, in his poky London flat, with nothing but his wand, a pot-noodle, and a lousy rented television, that no matter how hard he thumped it, only picked up Channel 5.
"I'd be disappointed if I only got some chocolate," said Andy. William hushed him.
"Open yours then," said Draco, excitedly. As he spoke, he could somehow feel himself becoming more and more detached from the adult Draco, which seemed to be standing in a corner of his mind, tapping it's foot and making angry noises.
William pulled out a brightly wrapped parcel from his pillowcase. It was very bulky, and soft too.
"I think I know what this is," he said, tearing off the paper. It was a very woolly jumper ... bright red, with a little yellow lion on the front.
"Has Gran sent you one too?" asked Andy, holding up his brand new Weasley jumper, which as always, was maroon.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. It opened a crack, to reveal Harry, who was wearing what looked like a brand new jumper. Draco couldn't help but giggle.
"Come on boys. We're all up. Breakfast in ten minutes, then you can open the rest of your presents downstairs," he closed the door again.
"I'm going to wear my jumper," squeaked Andy, diving back under the covers.
"You okay Will?" asked Draco. William was holding up his jumper, and looking at it very sadly indeed.
"Not really," he said. "But I'm not going to get upset."
"There's nothing wrong with that," said Draco, feeling a wrench inside as he did so.
"No, I guess not," said William, pulling off his pyjama top and rummaging around in his rucksack for a T-shirt. "I'll be okay. It'll keep Dad happy."
Draco was about to say something else, but decided against it. "I'm going to go use the bathroom," he said to nobody in particular. He threw off his covers, and grabbed an armful of borrowed clothes.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"What are we having then?" asked Ron, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Sirius was toasting something on the old cast iron stove.
"A little something I picked up on my travels. A Sirius ... 'cordon bleu' Black special, you might say."
"It's bagels again isn't it?" said Harry.
"With salmon!" protested Sirius.
Ron turned to Harry. "How are you this morning?" he asked.
"Not too bad," said Harry. "I'm going to try not to get upset today ... if only for the children. Incidentally Ron ... the acoustics in that shower cubicle suit you very well."
Ron blushed. "Ah," he said. "You heard?"
"Your complete repertoire," said Harry. "Very enlightening as to your musical tastes Ron."
Fleur came into the kitchen, a towel still wrapped around her hair. "Is it nearly breakfast?" she asked. "I'm hungry."
"Very nearly," said Sirius. "How does smoked salmon on cream cheese sound?"
"Like you just offered me heaven itself," said Fleur. "Somebody put the kettle on ... I need coffee."
The next person to join them was Draco, attired for the day in a pair of Will's jeans and a very baggy T-shirt Sirius had lent him. He was clutching his hand to his face, and looked in pain.
"You okay Draco?" asked Harry, looking at him in some concern.
Draco shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I kind of forgot I don't need to shave anymore."
"What say I treat you to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice young man?" said Sirius.
"Coffee, black, no sugar," said Draco.
"Yes, of course, quite forgot," said Sirius.
"The boys coming are they?" asked Harry.
"I think they're still getting dressed," said Draco.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Lucius Malfoy could see the other children drifting in for breakfast now. There were the Potters, horrible little replicas of their parents, and the Weasley twins. Distilled muggle lover, he thought, and in muggle clothes too. Vile. He was glad he had never instilled such values in Draco. He couldn't quite see Draco though. He thought he heard his voice ... but there was no sign of him. Still he seemed unwilling to perform his bidding though. I will have to do something about that, he thought to himself.
Lucius crouched down lower as Sirius came over to the sink by the window, and began taking coffee mugs off the draining board. He appeared to be looking at the sky, and hadn't noticed the dark shape lurking in his shrubbery, which was highly visible, despite what Lucius thought.
He craned his neck, the better to see into the kitchen. He could see Draco, his blond hair washed and immaculate, sitting next to the Potter children ... his heart sank ... breaking bread with them. The boy had still not learnt his lesson, and Lucius was beginning to have serious thoughts that Voldemort's displeasure would be incurred should the test fail. He needed Weasley first ... for revenge, but yet at the same time ... bait in the trap.
So great was his anger, he knew he would have to act soon. But what to do?
A/N
That's it for now. I have terrible writers block at the moment. Help!!!
I can't really think of much to say in the A/N today. So here's the obligatory stuff. JK Rowling is of course God ... and came up with this whole Harry Potter thing. It is merely our humble duty here at FFN to rip off the books mercilessly, and have tremendous fun doing so. Lyrics from 'If You're Going To San Francisco' were used without permission too. I hope plenty of you are sticking with this, and I've written so many times about how I value reviews and your input, so if I've failed to move you to review before ... make this the time you write something. I look forward to reading them. As you can see, this is a bumper edition, and once again, you may need tissues for bits of this.
Chapter 10.
It was nearly six in the evening when the little convoy pulled into Hogsmeade. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad had cordoned off the village square to allow the Ministry cars safe passage through the barrage of reporters that had descended upon Hogsmeade. Harry turned his face away, and hid his children from view. Draco crouched down on the floor, afraid he would be seen like this.
Sirius lived in a large, rambling stone house just outside the village. It occupied a commanding position by the station, and overlooking the twisting road that led up the hillside to Hogwarts, which was perched high up, overlooking the village. Harry knew Sirius' home well of old, and was always comforted to be there. The house elves had lit fires in every room, and there was a delicious smell emanating from the kitchen. Harry and the children were shown into the living room by a particularly obliging specimen, wearing a Royal Wedding souvenir tea towel.
"Thank you," said Harry, hoarsely. The house elf bobbed up and down in gratitude, then scampered from the room.
"We're just whipping up a little dinner," said Sirius, striding into the room. "I thought we'd ... oh."
He'd noticed what William and Rebecca had noticed. There were piles of brightly wrapped presents stacked around the base of the Christmas tree. Some of them had labels on saying 'To Hermione.'
"We don't have to open if you don't feel like it," said Sirius. "There's plenty of time."
"I think Hermi would prefer it if we did," said Harry. "She'd never have wanted people to be miserable on her account."
Sirius beamed warmly. "Whatever you say Harry. Come on kids, I'll show you your rooms."
Draco stood up, uncertainly. Sirius beamed even more. "Yes, you as well. I've put you in with Will and Andy. Is that okay?"
Draco nodded, somewhat sheepishly, and followed Sirius out of the room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a pair of William's jeans that were actually too small for him.
Ron and Fleur came into the room, having just been giving themselves a guided tour of Sirius' house.
"Nice place he has here," said Ron, in a tone of forced jollity. Evidently the news that he was Lucius Malfoy's target had shaken him up.
"It's very special," said Fleur. "Should we sit down?"
Harry nodded. "If you feel like it," he said.
They took seats on the sofa facing the window. The room was filled with curiosities Sirius had amassed on his travels. There was a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling, tribal shields on the walls and a Zulu spear standing in one corner. One entire wall was lined with bookshelves. Sirius had become a great collector of rare volumes in his old age ... there were some that even Hogwarts did not possess in it's vast library. Harry also knew that if you pulled one of the books, a section of wall would swing round, revealing an old passage, leading directly into the school. Sirius told him Professor Lupin was wont to use it whenever he needed a break from marking.
"Harry," began Ron. "There's something I think I ought to tell you."
Harry looked up. "If it's about Lucius Malfoy ... I already know. Sirius told me earlier."
Ron looked a little put out at this. "Actually, yes, that was what I was going to say ... I assume Sirius told you he played some part in it."
"I don't blame you for what happened," said Harry. "I think that's what you were getting at."
"I do," murmured Ron. "I blame myself completely."
"It would, be nice to know why you killed him. What you were doing?" Harry hinted, but Ron just shook his head.
"You have to believe me Harry. If I could ... if I was allowed to tell you, then you'd know, you'd be the first to know."
"Ron ... I know some secrets that would make your hair go white," said Harry.
He didn't hear Ron's reply, but it sounded like. "So do I."
"I'm not going to push the matter further," said Harry. "I'm confident you'll tell me when you're good and ready," he turned his attention back to Sirius' Christmas tree. There was a small owl hooting somewhere in the branches.
Ron, however, looked distraught. He badly wanted to tell Harry what had happened. It was a long story, stretching back to the very day they left Hogwarts, when Ron had been approached at the Graduation Ball by two cloaked men, who had made him an offer he could not very well have refused. He had wanted to ... at first he hadn't thought he was up to the job they wanted him for. He had tried to steer them in Harry's direction, but he had already signed a contract to play Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps. Besides, as the men had said, to employ Potter would have been a liability. They couldn't afford to have famous faces aboard, and Harry would likely attract the wrong kind of attention. Ron had not questioned them further.
He wasn't sure if he would ever be good and ready, though Harry's confidence in him was touching, under the circumstances.
Draco, William and Andy came back into the room, Draco still slouching miserably. Andy went over to Ron, and sat down between him and Fleur. Ron ruffled his hair. William sat down on the floor at Harry's feet. Draco, who was evidently feeling very self-conscious, stayed standing.
"Sirius wants to know what time you'd like to eat," said William, looking up at his father.
"Anytime is fine," said Harry. "I'm not especially hungry."
"You ought to eat," said Fleur. "I would waste away if I don't get some food soon."
"You're in no danger of that dear," said Ron.
"I'll tell him whenever then, shall I?" asked William, impatient for an answer. Harry nodded grimly, and William scrambled to his feet to go and tell Sirius.
"He seems to be taking it well," said Ron.
Harry shook his head. He knew his son better than that. "He's trying not to show it in front of anybody," he said.
Draco was looking more melancholy than ever. He sat down in one of the armchairs, and stared at his feet.
"What's eating you?" asked Harry, trying to sound friendly.
Draco shrugged. Then he turned to Harry ... there seemed to be a look of desperate pleading in his eyes. He coughed, then said. "I ... it's my fault really, isn't it?"
"If you want me to tell you that it is Draco, then you're going to be disappointed," said Harry.
"But it is," Draco insisted. "I ... if I had stood up to my Father."
"By all accounts, you did everything you could to stop him," said Harry. "Going by ... what I used to think of you, I would have expected you to give in. That you didn't ... I think that says something about you Draco."
Draco cocked his head on one side. "What did you think of me?" he asked.
"I always thought you were an irksome little git," said Harry. "I won't pretend I wasn't pleased when I heard they'd sent you to Azkaban."
Ron didn't say anything, though the expression on his face betrayed what he was thinking.
"It doesn't matter anyway," said Draco. "It's still my fault."
A knocking sound, seemingly coming from inside the bookcase, made them all jump. Harry heard a voice calling. "Sirius? You there old chap?"
Harry got up, and hurried over to the false section of the bookcase. He racked his brains to try and remember what book it was he needed to pull ... Sirius had told him once before. It was something like...
"Hello. Is anybody home?" this, in Remus Lupin's voice.
It was staring Harry in the face. 'How to Open Magical Doors' by Paul Hear. Despite himself, he smiled, and gave the book a tug. Ron stared at him in some alarm ... he had not, obviously, seen Sirius' revolving bookcase in action before.
"What are you up to?" he asked.
There was the sound of badly oiled machinery squeaking to life, and then a faint rumbling sound. The section of bookcase swung round. There were four people standing there; Remus Lupin, Professor McGonagall, looking much older and even more severe, Hagrid and Severus Snape, who had shaved off his goatee.
"Hello Harry," said Remus, in a deadened voice. "We thought we'd come and see how you were."
He shook Harry warmly by the hand. Hagrid stepped forwards ... he was holding a bunch of lilies. He enveloped Harry in a bear hug so tight it threatened to break his ribs. Despite being close to ninety years old now, and unable to get around without a stick, Hagrid still retained the strength and presence he had done when he had been a sprightly sixty eight year old.
"Good to see yeh Harry," he mumbled. "I'm ... I'm so sorry."
Professor McGonagall eyed them coldly. She stepped forwards as Hagrid released Harry. "I was sorry to hear of your loss Harry," she began. "Hermione was a great friend to all of us."
"For my part, I'm sorry too," said Snape, shaking Harry's hand with a warmth of feeling Harry had previously thought he never had. That handshake probably meant more to him than the condolences of all the others.
"Thank you sir," said Harry.
"It's Severus now Harry," said Snape. "I'm not your teacher anymore," Draco, standing on the other side of the room, caught his eye. He shifted awkwardly.
"Who is this ankle biter?" asked Snape. "We haven't seen him at Hogwarts now have we?"
"Actually, you have," began Draco. Harry stopped him.
"This is Draco Malfoy Professor," he explained. Draco scowled malevolently.
"I find that very hard to believe," said Snape, removing his spectacles, the better to survey Draco. "Did the old boy have a son then? He never told any of us."
"I don't think you quite understand sir," said Draco, stepping forwards, wringing his hands. "I am Draco Malfoy."
Snape shook his head. "I can't quite believe that," he maintained. "Did someone use the Puerus Curse on him or something?"
At this point he realised he was the only one in the room not nodding gravely.
He craned closer. "Is that really you Draco?"
Draco nodded.
"Then good to see you my boy. Many of us have dreamed of recapturing our youth. I see you have succeeded."
"It wasn't actually me," said Draco, but he never got a chance to explain, for Sirius poked his head around the living room door, and announced dinner at that point. They trooped obediently into the dining room, where Sirius' house elves, Stinky and Twinky, had prepared them a substantial spread. There were even candles.
"Do sit down," said Sirius. The house elves, still wearing their tea towels, were crouched on the table, ready to begin serving. Harry knew Hermione would not have approved, and he wondered if she was watching them now.
"We'll forego standing on ceremony," said Professor McGonagall to the other Hogwarts staff. "I think perhaps a toast?"
Stinky leapt forwards, and poured a little of the wine into each of their glasses. He paused as he passed Draco, then filled his glass anyway. McGonagall gave the elf an angry stare.
"I think," she rose to her feet. "I'd like to propose a toast to Hermione ... who has been cruelly taken from us in the prime of her life," a tear trickled down her face. "At this difficult time, we honour her life, and remember her as she would have wanted to be remembered."
The others, including Draco, raised their glasses, and muttered their tributes. Harry looked as bad as ever.
"I don't think I can take it," he gulped. Fleur put her arm around him, and hugged him.
Stinky and Twinky returned to their carving. Sirius had tracked down a very large hock of ham. There were great platters of vegetables to go with it.
"Say when sir," Twinky said to Harry, loading his plate with ham.
"That's plenty," said Harry.
"You should eat more," said Fleur, regarding Harry's dinner with sorrow. "You'll waste away."
"You'll excuse me Fleur," said Harry. "But I'm not in the mood for eating much."
Fleur withdrew her arm. "Of course not. I'm sorry, I was being insensitive."
Hagrid leant over, and filled Harry's wine glass up to the brim. Harry gave him a smile of thanks.
"Hagrid didn't want to come," said Remus. "Did you?"
"D'int think yeh'd want us here," said Hagrid. "Time fer family, 'ent it?"
"You are practically family," said Harry.
"Aye," murmured Hagrid. "S'what they told us yeh'd say."
"Do we ... know what happened yet?" asked Snape.
Harry nodded. "There was a break in," he said. "She was ... I'm sorry ... I don't want to talk about it."
McGonagall and Remus shot Snape a look. "We quite understand Harry," said McGonagall, quietly.
"Thank you," said Harry. He picked up his wine glass and sipped it. Fleur helped him to vegetables.
The mood at table was subdued. Snape, Harry could tell, was itching to find out what had happened, and in itself, he had no objection to that. He just didn't want to talk about it yet. His loss was still weighing too heavy on his heart.
"Tuck in," said Sirius. "No point in letting it go cold. Thank you Stinky. Thank you Twinky. You may retire."
The house elves bowed low, leapt off the table and scampered out of the door to continue work on the dessert.
"They make my life a little easier," said Sirius, pausing with a forkful of mashed potato halfway to his mouth. "With all the travelling I do, it's nice to be able to come home and know my slippers will have been warmed, and there'll be a glass of mead and a crusty sandwich waiting for me, and someone will have drawn me a bath."
McGonagall nodded her agreement. "They are a mixed blessing," she said. "They're too willing to please, we've had terrible trouble with students stealing food from the kitchens," she glanced meaningfully at the children, and William, Andy and Mary, who were sitting at the opposite end of the table to her, between Sirius and Ron. They looked down at their plates.
"I can see how that would be a problem," said Sirius, making an effort to smile. "Harry, you okay?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm not," he said. "Excuse me, I think I need to be alone," he pushed back his chair, stood up, and left the room. They heard his footsteps on the stairs. Mary too was staring forlornly at her dinner. She had not touched a scrap.
"Should I go after him?" asked Remus. McGonagall shook her head.
"Best to leave him be," she said. "I think he's still in shock."
"This has come as a great shock to all of us," said Sirius. "We'll just have to muddle through the best we can."
Draco was itching to say something, but kept his mouth shut. He was very hungry indeed, not having really eaten properly since his lunch at the Bull, now two whole days away.
"I think I'd like to remember her for her unfailing devotion to her studies," said McGonagall, staring into space. "She was the most remarkable student I ever had the pleasure to teach. Would that others were more like her."
Remus snorted. "She always was feisty," he said. "She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to go about getting it. See what she made of her life?"
Snape spoke up. "My abiding memory," he said. "Will be of a girl utterly devoted to her friends. She would never leave them. I could never split them up," he smiled at the memory. "Much as I tried," he added.
Hagrid grinned through his extravagant beard. "She always had a good word for me," he said. "She always stuck by me, even when nobody else would."
Ron was staring into his food, desperately trying to stop himself from crying in front of his children.
"I'd like to say," he began. "She was without any doubt, the best. I remember we didn't get on at first. It was me and Harry, and then her. She would have nothing to do with us. Funny how I remember that now."
Sirius shook his head gravely. "Friendship is a fickle bedfellow," he said, at long last, spearing a whole new potato on his fork. The others chewed slowly. It was evident that nobody felt much like talking. "We should all learn not to neglect it. You never know when it'll be gone for good."
McGonagall nodded. "Perhaps we should talk about better times," she prompted. "We don't want to go to bed crying our eyes out, after all," the glare that William shot her across the table silenced her. Evidently some people did want to go to bed crying their eyes out. She blushed beetroot red, and added. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."
"I dare say you were overcome by the moment Minerva," said Snape, going for the dish of carrots.
William, on the other hand, was quite alarmed to see Snape on such amiable terms. The last time they had met, just four days earlier, Snape had taken ten points from Gryffindor when he had turned up two minutes late. This new, tactful Snape was quite a shock to him. He turned to Andy, who was sitting next to him, looking just as astonished.
"I thought Snape was horrible," he whispered. William nodded his agreement.
"Be polite lads," said Ron, noticing.
"Sorry Dad."
"Yeah, sorry."
Draco couldn't help smiling. Even though he still felt thirty five, his condition made him feel a certain affinity, even an alliance with the children, and he was definitely certain he shouldn't be being allowed any alcohol.
McGonagall spoke again. "I suppose, there will be a funeral?"
"You'd have to speak to Harry about that," said Sirius. "And I'm not certain now would be the time to discuss it."
"She always said she wanted something quiet," said William, almost muttering the words. McGonagall turned to look in his direction. "She never said she wanted a fuss."
"I'm sure she didn't," said Sirius.
William continued. "I asked her once ...what she thought dying'd be like? She said she always hoped it would be quiet, and peaceful, surrounded by the people she loved. She also said she didn't want to be mourned like this."
"Sometimes," said Sirius. "The wishes of the living must be more important that those of the dead. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd like to mourn for Hermione ... who wouldn't feel it'd be right if they didn't. Do you see what I mean William?"
William nodded. "She wanted it to be quiet though."
"I'm sure we can arrange that."
McGonagall leant over the table. "I think you're being very, very brave Will," she said ... the first time she had ever called him by his Christian name. "I wish I had your stoicism."
"I know I'll see her again one day," said William, quietly. "So will Rebecca. We all will."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry was sitting on his bed, in one of Sirius' many guest rooms. William slipped quietly in, and closed the door behind him. It was obvious his father had been crying ... there were screwed up Kleenex tissues all over the floor, and Harry looked dejected, drained of all his previous life and humour. He was listening to a Dire Straits album on the CD player.
"I used to love this song," he said. "Got me through many a summer at the Dursleys. Seems silly really ... I just spotted it in Sirius' record collection, and I thought I ought to have a listen. Seemed right, y'know?"
"Dad?"
William came and sat on the bed next to him. "You okay Will?" asked Harry, putting his arm around his shoulders.
William shook his head. "I didn't want to stay downstairs," he said. "They were being too depressing."
"Yeah, adults get like that," said Harry. "You have to forgive them. We're not nearly as balanced as you kids."
William managed a wan smile.
"It's okay to cry you know," said Harry. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Look at the state of me."
William shook his head. "I feel empty inside," he said.
"You don't need to hide it ... understand? That's all I'm saying. We should all cheer up for Christmas. Hermione wouldn't like to think she'd ruined the holidays for us. We can still open our presents eh? Same as usual?"
"It can't be the same," breathed William, hoarsely. "It can't be the same without Mum. And you can't pretend it will be," he took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
"I guess not. Huh ... you sure told me eh?" said Harry.
"Why are you pretending it didn't happen?" asked William, holding his father closely.
"Will, that's the last thing I'm pretending," said Harry. "I just, I just still can't quite believe it."
"I know what you mean."
"It feels like she's going to walk right in through that door, any minute, and it's all going to be okay ... like we'd never found Draco in the woods ... like we'd just made that snowman, and then gone home, and had a drink. And then ... everything would have been normal. But it's not, and this is reality and the thing I want to be reality isn't. I have to deal with this," he paused. "Will, I want her back ... I want her back so badly."
William could see the tears once more seeping out of his eyes. He picked up the box of tissues.
"Thanks. You're a good boy," sniffed Harry. He hugged William tightly. At that moment, William knew he was going to start as well. He couldn't play act anymore. He couldn't carry on like this for Rebecca's benefit. His eyes were burning, and he screwed up his face.
"God I want her back Will," gasped Harry. "I want her back with us."
"Me too Dad. Me too."
Harry cradled the sobbing child in his arms.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Molly Weasley stirred. She was a heavy sleeper, even in her old age, and rarely woke up for anything ... so she was puzzled now as to why she had been disturbed from her slumber. She sat up in bed, and fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table. She put them on, and the bedroom swum into focus. Arthur was still sleeping soundly next to her. She picked up her wand.
"Lumos," she whispered.
She checked the alarm clock. It was ten past midnight. That meant it was Christmas Day already. Though it didn't retain the excitement it had done when there had been seven children in the house, she was still filled with a comfortably warm glow at the thought.
She heard the noise again. A clattering outside, as if somebody was knocking over the dustbins.
"Arthur," she whispered, prodding her sleeping husband in the side with her wand. "Arthur, wake up."
Arthur sat up in bed, blinking heavily. "What ever is the matter Molly?" he asked. "Why are you awake?"
"I heard something in the garden," said Molly. "It rattled the dustbins."
"Probably just a fox. Go back to sleep."
Molly wasn't so sure. She waited until she heard his snores again, and then stepped gingerly out of bed, feeling for her slippers. She walked softly over to the door, took her dressing gown off the hook where it hung, and put it on. Then she opened the bedroom door. It creaked ... the hinges needed oiling, but Arthur didn't wake up.
She thought she heard movement in the kitchen. The night sky was clear, and there was moonlight shining in through the windows. She tiptoed down the stairs. There was definitely a shadow in the kitchen ... it was moving about.
"Hello!" she said. "Who's there?" she wished she had one of the boys with her to help. They'd have seen the intruder off.
The shadow froze. She heard what sounded like a muffled swearword. The intruder stepped out of the kitchen.
It was Molly's turn to freeze. The intruder was dressed from head to toe in a black velvet cloak, the hood of which covered his face.
"Who are you?" she breathed. "What do you want here?"
"I'm looking for something," hissed the intruder.
"You'll find no money here," protested Molly. "Why don't you just leave folk like us alone?"
The intruder chuckled. "I would have no use for your pitiful wealth woman," he snarled. "How much is it. Ten, twenty galleons? Hardly worth keeping a Gringott's account open for is it? You might as well keep it under your mattress. I gather many old people do."
"How dare you!" growled Mrs Weasley. She raised her wand. The intruder reached into the folds of his cloak, and withdrew his own weapon.
"Who will fire first?" he asked. "Such a quandary my dear. There is no need for you to be scared of me. Just give me the information I seek, and I shall leave you be ... unharmed."
"What do you want?" gasped Molly.
"Information. I am seeking your son."
"Which one?"
"Ronald," he said. "Where is he?"
"What do you want my Ron for?" asked Molly.
"Let's just say ... revenge is sweet," said the intruder. "I have good reason to seek vengeance upon the one who so nearly ended my life."
"Ron's just a broomstick salesman!" cried Molly. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. He wouldn't ... he's a big softie really ... he cries if he sees a spider!"
"I seek not evidence of your son's cowardice, but evidence of his whereabouts," hissed the intruder.
"I swear to God, Ron isn't a murderer. Leave him be..." she was cut off in mid flow.
"Ron has lied to you. He has never sold a single broomstick," the intruder said. "I suggest you acquaint yourself with your son's activities, before they destroy him ... as they most assuredly will. Now where is he?"
"I don't know."
"Madam, I am, of course, well versed in the use of the Imperius Curse, as well as sundry others that could be used to bend you to my will. Are we familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, or Avada Kedavra?"
Molly nodded. "You wouldn't. Nobody would risk Azkaban."
"If I am caught now," said the intruder. "It will make no difference ... I have used those curses on those who sought to stop me before. Now one lies dead, and the other in fear for his miserable life."
"I don't know where he is."
"All I have to say is Crucio," said the intruder. "I am told it is pain beyond belief, beyond your wildest nightmares. I cannot however, speak from experience. I can only speak from the perspective of a witness."
Molly looked at his wand, which was pointed straight at her dressing gown. "He was going to spend Christmas ... with Sirius."
"Sirius Black?"
Molly nodded.
"Famed betrayer of James and Lily Potter?"
"He's innocent. They cleared him fifteen years ago," protested Molly.
"Yet his hands are sullied with their blood even now," said the intruder. "How ironic. Sirius Black resides in Hogsmeade, does he not?"
Molly nodded.
"Then that is where I must go. I bid you farewell madam," he turned, and stalked out the way he had come, banging the kitchen door shut as he went. Molly heard the sound as he Disapparated outside.
"Whatever happened?" a voice said. Arthur was standing at the top of the stairs, in his night-shirt, brandishing his wand.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Draco turned over. He was lying awake, even though it was well past midnight. He could hear William's breath coming in short gasps, and Andy's gentle snoring. William had cried himself to sleep that night. He had pretended to be asleep, to block out the pitiful sobs, that in his heart he still believed were the markings of a coward. But now he was starting to see William with a new respect. He looked upon the boy's sleeping form.
Footsteps went past on the landing outside. Somewhere in the house, a toilet flushed. The adults were evidently coming to bed. They had offered to let him stay up, but he had pleaded tiredness, as was the truth, and gone to bed along with the rest of them.
He heard voices, and sat up in bed to listen.
"Harry," someone hissed. It sounded like Fleur. Though she had lived in England for thirteen years now, her accent was recognisably French.
"Yes?" he heard Harry's voice.
"Are you okay now?"
Draco assumed Harry had either nodded or shaken his head, the latter, more likely, for he didn't hear his reply.
"I think you should get some rest. Things will seem better in the morning."
"You're probably right. Well ... goodnight Fleur."
"Goodnight. Sleep well."
A door shut softly, and all was silence, save for the hissing of the cistern. Draco stared up at the ceiling. This was obviously Will's room whenever the Potter's stayed over with Sirius. There was a light in the shape of a space rocket dangling from the ceiling, and the wallpaper had the Guildford Griffins coat of arms all over it. Someone had put a lot of effort into this room.
Somewhere down in Hogsmeade, an owl hooted. Draco fell asleep at long last.
* * * * * * * * * * *
And awoke again. Bright light was streaming through the windows. Despite himself, a surge of excitement swept through his body. It was Christmas morning! He checked at the bottom of his bed for presents, not really expecting to find any. To his surprise, he found a small package wrapped in gold paper. He picked it up gleefully. He had expected less than this! Someone had written 'Happy Xmas Draco' on it in black marker pen. He felt like a little kid again. Then he remembered ... he still was.
William was still asleep. At some point in the night he had thrown his duvet onto the floor, and the sheets were a tangled mess around him. Draco was not altogether surprised to see a bulging pillowcase of gifts at the foot of the other boy's bed. Andy had the same. Well, thought Draco to himself, as he shook his present to see if it rattled or not. He couldn't really expect the same.
Andy stirred. A shock of bright red hair emerged from underneath his covers. He was blinking rapidly.
"'Lo," he said to Draco. Draco smiled at him.
"Happy Christmas," he whispered. Andy smiled. "I'd have got you something ... but I think you have plenty."
There was the sound of running water in the bathroom next door, and a voice, evidently confident that it couldn't be heard, singing.
"If you're going, to San Franciscooooo!"
Draco smirked at Andy. "Who do you think it is?"
"Be sure to wear ... some flowers in your hair!"
"Probably Dad," said Andy.
"Da da de dum, de dum de dum de da!"
William had been woken up by Ron's less than tuneful singing.
"Happy Christmas," said Draco, turning to face him. There were nominally two beds in the room, so Draco had been accommodated on a fold away camp bed between the two ... it was comfortable, after a fashion, although a spring had been poking him in the small of the back all night.
William made a valiant effort to smile.
"Presents?" asked Andy.
William nodded. He carefully rearranged his duvet, reached forwards, and grabbed the pillowcase.
"I only ever got a stocking," said Draco, pretending to look grumpy.
Andy giggled, then stopped himself, but William didn't seem to have minded. "Did you get anything Draco?" he asked, brushing his untidy hair out of his eyes.
Draco nodded, and held up the package.
"Bet it's socks," said William. "Dad has a thing about socks. Open it!"
"Yeah, go on," prompted Andy.
Draco grinned, then set to work on his present. It wasn't squashy enough to be socks, he thought, as he opened it. It was a small, round tin of little chocolates, with a picture of a grinning wizard on the lid. It wasn't much ... but Draco was, all the same, touched that they had remembered him.
"Is that it?" asked Andy, looking disappointed on Draco's behalf.
"Doesn't matter," said Draco. "I was kind of an unexpected guest, you might say," he didn't dare admit that it was more than he could have hoped for if events had transpired differently, and he had been stuck at home, in his poky London flat, with nothing but his wand, a pot-noodle, and a lousy rented television, that no matter how hard he thumped it, only picked up Channel 5.
"I'd be disappointed if I only got some chocolate," said Andy. William hushed him.
"Open yours then," said Draco, excitedly. As he spoke, he could somehow feel himself becoming more and more detached from the adult Draco, which seemed to be standing in a corner of his mind, tapping it's foot and making angry noises.
William pulled out a brightly wrapped parcel from his pillowcase. It was very bulky, and soft too.
"I think I know what this is," he said, tearing off the paper. It was a very woolly jumper ... bright red, with a little yellow lion on the front.
"Has Gran sent you one too?" asked Andy, holding up his brand new Weasley jumper, which as always, was maroon.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. It opened a crack, to reveal Harry, who was wearing what looked like a brand new jumper. Draco couldn't help but giggle.
"Come on boys. We're all up. Breakfast in ten minutes, then you can open the rest of your presents downstairs," he closed the door again.
"I'm going to wear my jumper," squeaked Andy, diving back under the covers.
"You okay Will?" asked Draco. William was holding up his jumper, and looking at it very sadly indeed.
"Not really," he said. "But I'm not going to get upset."
"There's nothing wrong with that," said Draco, feeling a wrench inside as he did so.
"No, I guess not," said William, pulling off his pyjama top and rummaging around in his rucksack for a T-shirt. "I'll be okay. It'll keep Dad happy."
Draco was about to say something else, but decided against it. "I'm going to go use the bathroom," he said to nobody in particular. He threw off his covers, and grabbed an armful of borrowed clothes.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"What are we having then?" asked Ron, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Sirius was toasting something on the old cast iron stove.
"A little something I picked up on my travels. A Sirius ... 'cordon bleu' Black special, you might say."
"It's bagels again isn't it?" said Harry.
"With salmon!" protested Sirius.
Ron turned to Harry. "How are you this morning?" he asked.
"Not too bad," said Harry. "I'm going to try not to get upset today ... if only for the children. Incidentally Ron ... the acoustics in that shower cubicle suit you very well."
Ron blushed. "Ah," he said. "You heard?"
"Your complete repertoire," said Harry. "Very enlightening as to your musical tastes Ron."
Fleur came into the kitchen, a towel still wrapped around her hair. "Is it nearly breakfast?" she asked. "I'm hungry."
"Very nearly," said Sirius. "How does smoked salmon on cream cheese sound?"
"Like you just offered me heaven itself," said Fleur. "Somebody put the kettle on ... I need coffee."
The next person to join them was Draco, attired for the day in a pair of Will's jeans and a very baggy T-shirt Sirius had lent him. He was clutching his hand to his face, and looked in pain.
"You okay Draco?" asked Harry, looking at him in some concern.
Draco shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I kind of forgot I don't need to shave anymore."
"What say I treat you to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice young man?" said Sirius.
"Coffee, black, no sugar," said Draco.
"Yes, of course, quite forgot," said Sirius.
"The boys coming are they?" asked Harry.
"I think they're still getting dressed," said Draco.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Lucius Malfoy could see the other children drifting in for breakfast now. There were the Potters, horrible little replicas of their parents, and the Weasley twins. Distilled muggle lover, he thought, and in muggle clothes too. Vile. He was glad he had never instilled such values in Draco. He couldn't quite see Draco though. He thought he heard his voice ... but there was no sign of him. Still he seemed unwilling to perform his bidding though. I will have to do something about that, he thought to himself.
Lucius crouched down lower as Sirius came over to the sink by the window, and began taking coffee mugs off the draining board. He appeared to be looking at the sky, and hadn't noticed the dark shape lurking in his shrubbery, which was highly visible, despite what Lucius thought.
He craned his neck, the better to see into the kitchen. He could see Draco, his blond hair washed and immaculate, sitting next to the Potter children ... his heart sank ... breaking bread with them. The boy had still not learnt his lesson, and Lucius was beginning to have serious thoughts that Voldemort's displeasure would be incurred should the test fail. He needed Weasley first ... for revenge, but yet at the same time ... bait in the trap.
So great was his anger, he knew he would have to act soon. But what to do?
A/N
That's it for now. I have terrible writers block at the moment. Help!!!