Disclaimer: This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels. All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time. I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else.
Sorcerors' Endgame A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs"Chapter Sixteen: Epilogue
They stood on the smooth curve of sand enjoying the feel of the breeze in their hair and the water lapping at their feet. Mouse had produced binoculars from somewhere and was examining, with great interest, a flotilla of exquisitely decorated kites being flown with consummate skill and grace above an adjacent beach.
"Hey you guys, look!" he exclaimed in excitement. "There's an eagle – and a jumbo jet. Wow – even Superman!"
The energetic muggle had bounced back with energy from his mild concussion and had greatly enjoyed the past few days' leisure. Ankle-deep in blue seawater, Ginny creased her brow, vaguely puzzled at the last comment; Harry smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Neither made eye contact.
Sirius paused a short distance away, shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight, watching the couple curiously. To the unobservant, it would appear that they were not communicating at all, but Sirius understood enough now to know that Harry and Ginny were conversing all the time, every waking moment. He shook his head, admitting defeat; he would never be able to imagine a partnership so complete, so perfect that neither one of them ever need be alone again. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
Harry turned, detecting some movement in his peripheral vision, and smiled broadly, teeth white in a suntanned face.
"Hey, Sirius!" He moved out of the water, walking towards his godfather. The two men grasped each other's forearms in something more than a casual greeting. Sirius squinted against the brightness, one hand pushing overlong hair out of his eyes. For the first time Harry noticed some grey in the curly, black mass.
"So." The older man turned his face towards the wind. "All the 'i's dotted and the 't's crossed?" Harry smiled.
"If you mean are we ready to go home then yes, I guess we are. We're just waiting for Ron to turn up with the Portkey, that's all."
"And you're taking Draco back with you." It wasn't a question. Sirius glanced about the deserted beach; the hour was very early.
"Where is he?" In answer, Harry turned towards a distant rocky headland and pointed a finger at a diminutive, black-clad figure standing motionless near the shallows.
"He won't run." he said flatly. Sirius nodded in agreement.
"He has nowhere to go."
As if he could sense their regard, the figure raised its head, staring hard in their direction. He began to walk back towards them.
"Is he any – well, happier isn't really a word you'd associate with Draco. More at peace, I suppose, would be the nearest I could get?" Harry shook his head.
"He's been holed up in his room here at the hotel for most of the time." he replied. "He formally surrendered to the Ministry Authorities, you know – that's partly why Arthur sent Ron to bring us home. Arthur's not happy about things back at The Ranch; he thinks Draco's presence might cause some kind of crisis, so he's playing his cards very close to his chest."
"If Draco could be persuaded to co-operate, he might even live to take up his inheritance." Sirius sighed. "He's got very little choice, you know: if he doesn't talk willingly, they'll just use Veritaserum on him."
"They'll probably use it anyway." Harry's tone was bleak. "Tantalus Brown's crew are a hard lot. I don't think even my redoubtable father-in-law will be able to protect Draco for long." He sighed then straightened his shoulders.
"Now that Pettigrew's been apprehended, you'll be given a full pardon, that's for sure." Harry smiled at his Godfather. "The Minister will be quick to smooth things over with the muggle police, I'm sure of that. So, when do you think you'll return to England?" Sirius' eyes slid away from Harry's. He turned to look out at the vast expanse of blue sea.
"Sirius?" Harry's uncertain tone forced a response from the other man. Sirius sighed.
"I've just – got a bit of adjustment to do before I think about the future, that's all." he said, finally.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've made a life in Merida." Sirius turned to face his Godson and squared his shoulders. "Oh, Harry, that doesn't mean I'm never coming back, it's just that I care about my job, my friends, the people I've learned to live with. And, yes if I'm honest, Katia's family. I need to take her body back for burial as soon as possible – her people need to reach some sort of closure." He sighed and pushed hair back from his forehead.
"At present, my affairs are being looked after by a total incompetent." he said. "I'm fed up with receiving panic messages from my associates. All I want to do is go – home, Harry." The disappointment in his Godson's eyes was almost more than he could bear.
"Hey!" Sirius put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It won't be forever, count on it! But I can't just walk out on these people at a moment's notice." He laughed good-humouredly.
"I'll be back in England before you know it. Pretty soon you'll wish I'd stayed in Mexico!" Harry shook his head, unsmiling.
"Never that, Sirius." he replied soberly. "Believe me."
Sirius' eyes lifted and he nodded over Harry's shoulder.
"Some family members coming to bid you farewell." he said quietly. "I'll be back in a moment. Just let me say goodbye to Ginny." With a smile and a brief salute to the newcomers, he moved easily down to the edge of the water where he had to bend to receive Ginny's welcoming hug.
"I thought I'd leave you two boys alone for a while." she told him, smiling affectionately.
"You don't fool me for a moment, you know." he admonished her. "I'm perfectly well aware that anything Harry knows, you pick up instantly." She had the grace to look a little shamefaced.
"Well, at least I try to observe the niceties." she responded lightly, then nodded to where Guru, Syrinx and her brother Fred were exchanging greetings with Harry.
"I see Guru's looking much healthier." she commented mildly. "He must be greatly relieved to be able to share the burden of protecting Syrinx. "Sirius raised an eyebrow.
"So that's the way the wind is blowing, eh?"
"Oh, I would think so, wouldn't you?" Ginny smiled, surveying her brother with affection. She curled her toes into the soft, wet sand with obvious enjoyment.
"Ginny." Sirius put a hand lightly on her arm. She looked up in surprise at his serious expression.
"Something wrong, Sirius?"
"No, no." he shook his head. "Not really, I just wondered … " His expression was curiously intent; she returned his gaze steadily.
"Are you alright about this, Ginny?" He eyes widened.
"You mean, the Joining?" He nodded; she laughed.
"Well, it's a little late to change my mind, if that's what you mean."
"It wasn't exactly, but I just wondered how you were coping with it, that's all."
Ginny paused, her head tilted slightly to one side, thinking.
"Well," she began, "I'm not exactly coping with it – more that it's coping with me." She laughed at his nonplussed expression.
"I'm very happy, Sirius." she replied. "All my doubts and fears about Harry, myself, our relationship, the future – they no longer exist. I fully accepted him during the Joining – and myself, of course, which took much more effort." She pushed back hair whipped into her face by a sudden gust of wind.
"It's still possible to be one person, you know." she told him. "I can function without Harry on my shoulder the whole time, but where's the point? He knows me as well as I know myself now. And the magical possibilities – well, they're unbelievable!"
She smiled and took his large hand, roughened and calloused by an outdoor life, into her small, delicate one.
"You're kind and caring, Sirius." she replied sincerely. "Life has not been good to you, yet you still think about others before yourself, despite the fact that everyone you loved has betrayed you or died."
"Except for Harry." he said.
"Except for Harry." she agreed. "Sirius, please don't let the past destroy your future. Katia was never really yours; she chose a very different road a long time ago." Sirius closed his eyes against the empathy in her voice.
"We weren't aiming for a Joining, Ginny, just a partnership." His voice was rough with grief and the words were harsher than he intended. Her hand tightened.
"I'm sorry." her voice was a whisper. He nodded, regaining a measure of composure.
"So, my dear Ginny, am I," he replied with a sigh, "but I guess I was lucky at that. She was out for revenge; the logical outcome would have been a pine box – for both of us!"
Ginny made a small sound of sympathy and laid his hand against her cheek.
"We worry about you, Harry and me." she told him, her huge eyes shining. At this understatement, Sirius could not suppress an unexpected smile.
"I love you both, you pair of idiots!" he said against the pain in his heart. "I suspect you'll need even more looking after now you're Joined than ever before." Ginny gave a rueful smile.
"That may well be so," she replied thoughtfully, "but the aggregate of our magical powers is so much greater than we expected. We have enough strength to contend with anything the Dark Side could throw at us."
"If you could be persuaded to use it at all."
"There's that, of course." she replied, then looked up at him with bright eyes. "You understand?"
Sirius nodded slowly.
"You are the sum of all your parts." he said. "Your joint ethics and moral standards together with your individual qualities of empathy and logic make you a very reliable repository for such immense fire-power. The magical world would have to be on the brink of total destruction before you would, reluctantly, consent to use it!"
A soft splash followed by a muffled oath made them both swing round. Draco was shaking water out of his sodden shoes.
"Didn't notice the tide was coming in." he muttered then looked up at them with suspicious eyes.
"Don't worry, I wasn't spying." he said defensively. "Although the term 'private conversation' is pretty much a thing of the past for you now, isn't that right, Weasley?" Ginny did not miss a beat.
"And a very good morning to you too, Draco." She smiled brilliantly at the young wizard, privately taking note of his worn and tattered clothes, his rake-thin body and unhealthy pallor. She could hardly believe that this haunted creature had ever truly been Marcus Torrence, subject of her dreams, fantasies and fatal obsession. Behind the small group, Mouse whooped with delight.
"Hey, Sirius!" he exclaimed, offering his binoculars to the other man. "Just take a look at this!" Sidetracked, Sirius moved over to him and squinted through the proffered device. He frowned.
"Which way up is that supposed to be?" he asked uncertainly, adjusting the focus. Mouse roared with laughter. Ginny turned back to Draco with a barely suppressed sigh.
"I realise that in view of our history, it's difficult for you to have a civil conversation with me," she began carefully, "but really – how many more times do I have to apologise for what happened before you finally believe me?"
Draco stared at her blankly, his face creasing into a frown.
"Funnily enough, I don't recall you having any choice in the matter." he responded dryly, the mask of arrogant hauteur firmly in place. "And besides; why you should hold yourself responsible for a situation I clearly brought on myself is quite beyond my comprehension."
He held Ginny's level gaze for a long while, then unaccountably he flushed, eyes sliding away, breath exhaling in a long sigh.
"I would have enslaved you to the Dark Side without a second thought." he admitted in a low voice, his gaze anywhere but on her face. "You were just a Weasley – just another muggle-loving, lower-class irritant not worthy of my attention. Now, not a day, not an hour, not even a minute goes by without your presence in my mind, your voice in my ears, your scent in my nostrils."
Draco looked up, his expression an odd mixture of frustration and supplication.
"My search for my family history distanced me from my feelings for you – kept them in the background, gnawing at my consciousness, but never overwhelming me. Now I know for certain what happened to my mother and sister, I no longer have the distraction."
He sighed, staring off into the horizon and running a hand through his pale blonde hair, the gesture curiously reminiscent of Harry.
"The reasons behind it are irrelevant;" he told her, "the fact remains that I love you and I will go on loving you without hope of any return until I am in my grave; no questions, no let up – no remission for good conduct."
Ginny's cheeks flamed; she looked away. No, Harry! She refused his indignant summons outright. This is my problem, not yours. Fortunately for you, Katia's attempted seduction had no such complications! She could feel Harry backing down, but had no time for any further conversation.
"Draco, I'm sorry." she said quietly. "I'm sorry it's turned out this way. That's all I can say." She sighed, swallowed then looked into his pale, tired eyes.
"I could have loved you." she whispered. "In a different world, we could have been together." A muscle in the side of Draco's mouth jumped involuntarily; he closed his eyes.
"Don't, Ginny." It was barely a whisper. She held her breath as Draco slowly stretched out a hand towards her. Lightly, his fingers brushed a wayward tendril of hair from her face then he smiled crookedly.
"Get out of here, Weasley," he murmured, equally quietly, "before I forget that you belong to Potter." She had one aching glimpse of the naked longing behind the cool, grey eyes then he swung away from her, leaving her no option but to walk slowly, thoughtfully away up the beach towards Harry.
About time too!
Please Harry. She closed her eyes. Don't.
I always was the jealous type, I'm afraid.
I know.
I'm sorry.
I know that too.
Draco turned to watch her move over the sand towards the group around Harry, her leaf-green muslin dress billowing attractively in the sea breeze. His eyes were as cold as the grave.
"Now what have you said to her?" Sirius rounded on Draco, glaring down at him in outrage.
"Honestly!" he exploded. "You can't be left alone for five minutes – tell me, do you get a kick out of being thoroughly unpleasant, or is it just habit? And where do you get off blaming Ginny for your predicament? From where I'm standing, it's pretty much a case of poetic justice!"
Draco held up a conciliatory hand, silencing any more invective from the older man.
"A mistake, Black." he said wryly. "There really is no point in needling her any further, I know that, but the habits of a lifetime can be very hard to break. I made my own bed. The fact that I didn't exactly get laid in it is no one's fault but my own. My choice, my consequences."
"Which are likely to be fairly grim." finished Sirius with undisguised satisfaction. Draco scowled.
"What a little ray of sunshine you're turning out to be, Black!"
"Just telling it like it is, Malfoy."
~oo0oo~
"So you're staying." Harry exhibited no surprise at all. Fred shuffled his feet a little.
"I know it seems rather sudden …" he began but broke off as Harry smiled and shook his head.
"I don't need any crystal ball to work that one out, Fred." he replied. "It's as clear as day to all of us that you've found where you belong."
The redhead lowered his eyes, an unaccustomed flush staining his cheeks. He was simply dressed in cutoff jeans and a baggy shirt, but Harry noticed that the fabric was Batik – the traditional Balinese dying technique. Was this a deliberate gesture; a sign that his friend was "going native"? Fred was speaking again, his manner still a little halting but no longer embarrassed.
"Syrinx needs protection, Harry." he said gravely. "She is, after all, a true Seer. Who knows how much Lucius Malfoy worked out, whom he told? Great Merlin, the potential impact of her gift on the futures of both wizards and muggles is unimaginable. I don't even trust our own side on this matter." Harry nodded seriously.
"So have you resigned from the Ministry then?" Fred shook his head and gave a quirky smile.
"I shall just disappear quietly." he replied. "MIA is the stamp I want on my file, Harry – Missing In Action. Which brings me to what I wanted to ask of you."
"Anything." responded the dark-haired man instantly. "You know that."
"Yes." Fred nodded. "You know I can't go home? At least, not till there's been an investigation into my disappearance and I've been declared missing. It'll take at least a year for the hue and cry to die down, I realise that, but I can't face putting mum and dad through the wringer again; they've been through quite enough angst on my account over the years as it is. I've already managed to get in touch with Dad, but it wasn't easy. Would you be a conduit? A go-between for me, at least for a while?" Harry nodded soberly.
"Of course. I'll devise a few sneaky methods to outwit Ministry surveillance, and I'll do my best to leave a few pointers as to the manner of your demise if you wish?" Fred smiled.
"Sort it out with Dad." he replied. "Oh, and Harry? One more thing: please, take this message to George." He handed him a small, tightly-rolled scroll.
"It's not a complete explanation – that'll have to wait until we meet – but it's an attempt to arrange a rendez-vous. George is the only one with whom I can have any possible future contact – if I take another identity, that is. Trouble is, I don't have the resources to establish one and all my old personae are known to the Ministry. George'll have to sort that one out. Who knows?" he chuckled. "Perhaps I might become one of his sources – that would give us some leeway." Harry joined in the laughter, trying to ignore the growing ache in his chest.
Fred turned to look at the willowy, silver-haired girl who waited patiently, making gentle conversation with her father.
"Guru has kept her safe through a minefield of dangers over the years," he told Harry, "but he's had a long and difficult life. He's tired, Harry; it's time now for someone else to look after her – and him too." Harry gave a sad smile.
"I daresay you'll find pace of life a little slow here after London." he remarked. Fred laughed.
"Don't you believe it!" he responded with spirit. "I've been wanting to get out of the rat-race for a long time – just ask George. My needs have always been simple – I've never really been one for material things – but I didn't realise how much a simpler life would appeal to me." Fred shook his head in wonderment.
"For all those years I spent my waking hours unravelling increasingly more tangled webs, complicating my lifestyle with unnecessary intrigue, letting my work take over my own personal space. Well, it's time to let all those things go. I don't know if I've got religion or something, Harry, but for the very first time since I was a child I feel as though I've finally come home."
Once again, he gazed tenderly at Syrinx.
"Finding her was a bolt out of the blue," he continued quietly, "but since knowing her, I've been able to tap into my own powers a little more." His face was alight with knowledge and understanding. Harry shook himself slightly.
"Well," he replied crisply, offering his hand, "whatever your future together holds, it's certainly not going to be dull! Good luck, my friend. Send word when it's safe to visit – we'll be careful, I promise." Fred pursed his lips.
"Save it for a few months at least," he responded, "but look out for a wedding invitation some time after the rainy season." The redhead gave Harry a very old-fashioned look.
"Speaking of weddings," he said meaningfully, "are you intending to make an honest woman of my sister, or do such things have no meaning any more?" Harry was surprised.
"Well, I suppose we'll probably get around to it sometime soon, if that's what the family would like, but frankly after the Joining, matrimony seems like a very small step indeed."
Although he scarcely needed to, Harry looked round at Ginny to see her in conversation with Sirius and Draco. A small frown creased Fred's forehead as he followed Harry's line of sight.
"Malfoy!" he muttered. "What's that creep doing talking to her?" Harry laughed and clapped Fred on the shoulder.
"One thing this Joining thing does is take all the uncertainty out of a relationship." He remarked lightly. "Something like marriage, I should think, only more permanent!" Fred aimed a playful cuff at Harry's head. Laughing, Harry ducked, but Fred's expression had turned slightly more serious.
"How do you mean?" he asked. "Can you actually hear their conversation?" Harry paused, considered then nodded a little reluctantly.
"It's as though I'm in Ginny's head and out here talking to you at the same time. Simultaneously." he replied. "I'm not forced to stay in contact, but she's still there on the edges even if I deliberately stay out of the way – like now."
"But Harry – Malfoy?" Harry shrugged.
"I can feel her emotions, Fred. She's not worried or unduly – stirred up, shall I say? And besides – Sirius is there to keep an eye on things. I really don't think I need to go over there and trash him, do you?"
Fred's expression of deep disapproval did not change. Harry sighed then a small frown appeared between his brows as he saw Sirius move to accompany Mouse and "heard" the changing tenor of Draco's conversation. Ginny, get away from him! He was astonished and furious at her immediate refusal, only to be abruptly chastened at her tart response. Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone.
Harry swallowed. Fred raised a speculative eyebrow.
"Are you 'talking' to her now?" Harry grimaced.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." he replied. Fred looked at him acutely.
"That's a pretty powerful ability, Harry. Are you going to let the Ministry in on this little talent of yours?" Harry scratched his head ruefully.
"Regretfully no, Fred. I've had enough aggravation from various sections of that organisation to give me a serious attitude problem where Ginny is concerned." He grinned suddenly. "You'd be amazed at how limited the scope of this Joining can be, Fred, especially when Ministry officials are within spitting distance!"
Fred smiled back, this time painfully, and reached out to pull Harry into a brief, forceful hug before turning away to hide the tears threatening to spill at any moment. Sensing his distress, Syrinx took her father's hand and moved towards the little group, just as Ginny, herself not entirely composed, reached Harry's shoulder.
~oo0oo~
Sirius watched the group come together in mutual farewell but felt no desire to join them, at least not yet.
"So you're turning yourself in?" This was addressed to Draco. The young man absently brushed sand from his sleeve.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." Sirius looked up.
"Draco, don't screw around with the Ministry – they don't pull their punches." he told him. "They'll have you on Veritaserum before you can blink if they so much as smell any trace of a double-cross." Draco's face remained composed.
"I've had a few days to take stock of my situation." he replied equably. "I am also party to certain information which you do not possess."
"Oh?" Sirius raised his eyebrows. Draco nodded towards the group along the shoreline.
"Back at The Oldest Place, my father made an error that Fred Weasley picked up on very quickly." he began. "It was a small mistake, entirely due to the stress of the moment, no doubt, but nevertheless significant. It concerned the whereabouts of Pettigrew after his arrest, apparently a closely-guarded Ministry secret known only to one or two people. In fact, it was news to Fred Weasley himself. He asked me how my father could possibly have known something so sensitive – actually he'd worked out most of it himself already. When I finally came clean, he gave me the benefit of his advice." Draco stretched his arms above his head.
"On a personal level, I can't stand the man, but he certainly knows his politics."
Sirius was confused.
"Information? Advice? What are you blethering on about?" The blonde man smiled.
"You missed it too? So did Potter – and everyone else for that matter. How very gratifying!" Draco gave a thin, brittle smile.
"My father admitted to knowing that Pettigrew was not, in fact, being held in Azkaban, but instead in a high-security muggle prison." he explained. "That information was kept very much under wraps. Arthur Weasley was responsible for Pettigrew's arrest and Fred contacted him secretly to ascertain exactly who was in the know. It turned out there was only one way my father could have got wind of it."
"A mole?" Draco's reptilian grin broadened.
"Full marks for deduction, Black! An astonishing feat for a Ministry employee." Sirius ignored the sarcasm.
"So who told you?"
"Who's the mole? Ah, now, there's the rub, the six-million-dollar question, the final piece of the jigsaw. And that's what I have to bargain for my life and my freedom."
Sirius felt a cold shiver wriggle its way down his spine.
"Draco, have you really thought this through?" The other's smile faded slightly.
"Unfortunately, yes I have." he replied more seriously. "I realise that the next few days will determine my fate most decisively: I will either have paved the way for my eventual release from custody and freedom – or I will be buried somewhere untraceable, probably in the foundations of a muggle motorway, encased in concrete. Our insider is something of a major player – the higher the level, the greater the danger." He looked at Sirius and for the first time the older man could see fear in those lifeless grey eyes.
"Ironically, it seems that if I survive it will be entirely due to the Weasley family." he continued with wry humour. "Fred has started the ball rolling, Arthur is trying to mastermind the situation in the strictest secrecy, and Ron is doing the donkey-work as my official bodyguard." Draco gave a snort of disgust.
"The day I need a Weasley to guard my body will be the day I die!"
"Don't tempt fate, Draco."
~oo0oo~
It wasn't long before Ron arrived with the Portkey to return them to London. He slapped Harry on the back and swung his sister into his arms until she begged for mercy. Alternately scowling at Draco and beaming at Sirius, Ron's most fervent greeting was reserved for Fred. Enveloping his brother in a bear hug, he held him tightly for a long time.
"We thought we'd lost you." he said quietly. "We believed you were dead. Only Bill kept the faith – he said you were too devious to be caught out that easily. Mum'll be so relieved – she's still not quite convinced you're coming home!" Fred caught Harry's eye over Ron's shoulder.
"Ah, Ron," he began, gently steering him to where Syrinx and her father stood smiling, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."
~oo0oo~
At last they were ready to go. All the goodbyes had been said, explanations made, messages entrusted. Harry, Ginny, and Mouse waited together with Sirius while Ron took a final, emotional leave of his brother. Draco stood slightly apart, drawing patterns in the wet sand with the heel of his shoe.
"Call me." Harry said firmly to Sirius. "Soon. And come home, please, Sirius. You're the closest thing to a parent I've ever had. We've wasted half a lifetime apart. We only ever come together when the world needs saving! I want to do ordinary things with you – you know, play chess, go for walks, listen to music – that kind of thing." Sirius was touched; he ruffled Harry's hair.
"I'll think about it – truly. Take care now, and look after yourselves."
"Three … two … one … " Ron's voice sounded strangely disembodied as the Portkey's magic spiralled out to envelope the little group. The last thing Harry remembered was Syrinx's serene smile and her sightless eyes, the light from which pierced through to his very soul.
~oo0oo~
Afterword
A horseless carriage swept smoothly up the long drive, coming to a halt at the steps of a large and imposing mansion. The carriage door swung open silently and a slender figure in a black cloak and hat alighted, his feet crunching over the gravel as he approached the entrance. The slight slump of his shoulders and the almost exaggerated care in his movements might have given the impression of extreme fatigue to an observer. A swift glance at his face would have confirmed that indication; pale and careworn, with lines and wrinkles more appropriate to middle age than to a man in his twenties, albeit one who had lived hard and violently.
As the man approached the stone steps leading to the front entrance, the huge oak doors suddenly swung inwards. He halted abruptly in surprise, eyebrows arching high into his hairline as a diminutive figure stepped over the threshold.
"Welcome home, Master Draco." it said quietly. The young man stared in incredulity then moistened dry lips with his tongue.
"Dobby." he managed to croak. "Is this some kind of joke?" The House Elf shook his head.
"Dobby does not tell jokes, Master. Dobby has come home too." Finally tearing his disbelieving eyes from the front door, Draco turned slowly, panning his sight over Malfoy Manor, looking at it as though he had never seen it before.
"Home." he murmured, very much alive to the irony of the situation. "Probably the only place I'll ever call by that name." He sighed wearily; the past months had taken their toll, despite the eventual satisfactory outcome. He turned back to the diminutive House Elf waiting patiently at the threshold.
"I am the final generation." he said, calmly but with a dreadful finality. "There must and will be no others after me. This is the end of the line, Dobby; you do understand that, don't you?"
The wizened figure nodded equally solemnly.
"Dobby knows that as well as you do yourself, Master." he replied quietly. "That is why we is here – Winky is coming back from Hogwarts just as soon as she is finishing her work there. We will be looking after you."
Draco's shoulders slumped; he shivered as he regarded the massive, grey edifice that was Malfoy Manor and shook his head.
"I will never understand my father." he murmured, half to the little Elf, half to himself. "The rest of my life will not be sufficient to work free of his influence. Who knows how many of my forebears were like him? Certainly my grandfather's reputation was fearsome; maybe his father before him was also mad – who knows?"
He looked up at the Elf, his eyes suddenly naked, vulnerable.
"Are you my jailor?" he asked almost plaintively. "Have you been sent to make sure I don't continue the family business?" Dobby stared back expressionlessly.
"We is here to look after you, Master." he replied calmly. "We will stay with you for the rest of your life."
So, even after all this, it's still a prison. Draco's mind briefly entertained thoughts of escape, but where could he go? There was nowhere to run to, no one to help him. He turned back to the house.
It's full of ghosts! He shivered again, rigid with tension. Isn't it enough that my upbringing was so twisted I hardly know the concepts of right and wrong? Isn't it sufficient that I can never marry or take a lover, save one who will always be denied to me? That I can't even father children without the risk of bringing another genetic abomination like my father into the world? And now I am to be a prisoner here, in this place full of my father's atrocities. And his father before him. And back, back further along the whole Malfoy line.
Draco leaned his head in his hands.
"Azkaban … Malfoy Manor – where's the difference?"
"Master, you do not understand." The little elf was distressed. Draco was not aware he had spoken aloud until then. He looked up.
"We is here to look after you, to help you." Dobby continued insistently. "We is under your command." Draco's eyes narrowed.
"And who sent you here, eh? Who is so charitable that they imagine I might need help from such as you?" His voice dripped sarcasm, but beneath the surface was an underlying vein of hope. Dobby's eyes flickered momentarily.
"Dobby wasn't told not to tell you." he muttered, frowning in indecision. "Dobby should not keep secrets from his Master, but …"
"Pah!" Draco spat disgustedly and turned away. "It's Potter, isn't it? Ye Gods, it has to be him! Well, I can do without any more of his interference. You can leave here now, the pair of you! Get back into whatever hole you crawled out of – just leave me alone!"
"No, no, Master!" Dobby was so agitated he started to dance about. "No, it was not HarryPotter who sent us, Master, it was – it was the Mistress!"
Slowly the anger drained away from Draco's pale face to be replaced by a faint flush.
"Ginny?" he asked in a small voice. The Elf nodded, pressing his lips together, afraid that if he spoke he might say too much. Draco took a deep, shaking breath.
"Ginny." he repeated to himself.
When you've reached bottom, you're only too grateful for scraps. Impatiently, Draco silenced his thoughts and swallowed his pride. Ginny cared. Despite everything, she still cared enough to try to help. And that would have to be sufficient, Draco thought, to get him through the next century, for they would surely never meet again. Slowly, he raised his head.
"I'm – rather tired, Dobby." he said formally. "I should like a long, hot bath before dinner." The little elf inclined his head.
"Certainly, Master." he replied, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Dobby will attend to it right away."
And Draco Malfoy, last of the Malfoys, squared his shoulders, climbed the black stone steps and strode into Malfoy Manor alone – as he would be to the end of his days.
~oo0oo~
Ginny Weasley put the final touches to her makeup and sat back to examine the results. The dark green sleeveless silk sheath with its high neck and figure-hugging lines was a little severe for a girl as young as she, but it brought out the depth of her eyes and complemented her deep-red, swept-back hair. The gorgeous silk shawl, brought back for her secretly from Singapore by Harry, was a riot of colours, and the three-inch black stiletto sandals lent her a statuesque elegance not usually associated with the vibrant, quick-moving redhead.
She grinned, pleased with the effect: this was Power-Dressing in the extreme. She would knock 'em dead at the Ministry tonight, and if anyone so much as dared to mention mind-bonds or the like, her glacier-like stare would lower the temperature by several degrees. She practised the look in the mirror a couple of times, wrinkling her nose at the effect.
Rummaging for her evening bag in the chaos of her dressing table, Ginny's fingers curled around something unfamiliar. Pulling it free, her lips formed an 'O' of surprise as she recognised the little casket. It usually lived at the bottom of her jewellery case, but the box for her new engagement ring had taken up too much space, and the casket had been relegated to the back of the drawer. On impulse, she reached into a small ornament, removing a tiny key with which she unlocked the little box. There, nestling in its cocoon of silk, was the black rosebud Draco had given her, fresh as the day she had received it. Her expression a mixture of emotions, Ginny lifted the tiny object free of its housing, holding it up to the light. Then she gasped.
As soon as the daylight fell upon it, the rosebud began to wither; the petals dried and shrank, the stem thinned and the leaves shrivelled. Before her widening eyes, the small token crumbled into a spoonful of black dust.
"Hel-lo!" An admiring whistle interrupted her thoughts. Startled, she whirled around to see Harry wander into the bedroom kitted out in black tie. So absorbed had she been in the mystery of Draco's little token that she had failed to 'hear' Harry approach. On catching sight of him, she immediately forgot all about decaying flowers, gazing at him with wide, appreciative eyes.
"Ooh! You always look gorgeous in a dinner-jacket!" She leaned into him provocatively, automatically straightening his bowtie. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, eliciting a shiver of delight. Grinning, he offered her his arm.
"Madam, your carriage awaits!" It was true; horseless carriages had been sent by the Minister himself to collect all invitees to this particular jamboree, even those who had come by Portkey from far-off places.
Matching his smile, Ginny placed her hand lightly on his forearm preparatory to leaving the room. As she did so, Harry glanced down and frowned slightly.
"What's that, Gin?" he asked, brushing lightly at a grey stain on her arm. "It looks like ash." Ginny looked down at the mark, her eyes thoughtful and just a little sad. Then she rubbed a hand over her arm, scattering the motes to the four winds.
"It's nothing, Harry." she replied, grinning up at him. "Just dust, that's all."
~oo0oo~
Fred Weasley leaned back in his wicker chair and stirred the overflowing pile of owl post with a negligent finger. He looked out of the window to where the afternoon sun was reflecting off a blue sea and silver beach and sighed wearily. Still, it had to be done, and once he had finished he could go join Syrinx and the others outside.
Life on Bali had wrought significant changes in the person of Fred Weasley. While still lithe and rangy, he had lost the underweight look he had developed in the last few years and had put on a few pounds. His face, and indeed all of his body that could be seen under his loose white shorts and shirt, was light golden brown, the best his fair skin could achieve by way of suntan. His red hair was sun-bleached almost strawberry-blonde. He wore it long now, like his brother Bill, in a thick ponytail. Best of all, the deep wrinkles of worry etched into his face by years of strain had given way to laughter lines.
Fred laughed a lot these days; he had good cause. But right now this pile of mail, some of it up to three months old, had to be attended to; owl post deliveries were erratic in Bali.
Thirty minutes later, Fred had sifted through the stack and sorted it into three piles: Professional, Personal and Pending. The Professional pile was almost all relatively local, dealing with small jobs he had happened upon since arriving in Indonesia. This one he attacked first and was almost halfway through, most of it ending up in the waste-parchment bin. The Pending pile he disposed of in the usual manner – he heaped it in a tray in the corner of the room. If nobody bothered him about any of it for a month, it would go the same way as the Professional stuff. Pausing in his labours, he eyed the Personal pile; curiosity won.
Fred pushed his chair back from the table, went to the kitchen to refill his glass of pumpkin juice then settled himself with a nice view of the beach to open the only part of the delivery that really interested him.
The first item he opened was a scroll sporting a familiar firm script, addressed to a Mr. F. Underhill. Fred winced as he always did: Ginny's sense of humour sometimes eluded him. Deftly, he reached for his wand, drawing a complex symbol over the writing.
"Retego!" he muttered watching the letters rearrange themselves, jostling for position. Settling back in his chair, pumpkin juice at the ready, Fred leafed through the three pages of family news, smiling frequently and occasionally laughing out loud at the anecdotes his sister related.
Charlie's eldest, it seemed, had frightened the lights out of his parents by suddenly vaulting on to the back of a young Hungarian Horntail and flying it three times around the camp before landing it back in its pen. Not bad for an eight-year old; Charlie claimed his hair had gone grey overnight.
Arthur seemed to be going from strength to strength at the Ministry. His accession to Head of Operations, succeeding Tantalus Brown, was a popular appointment finding approval with both the young wizkids and the old guard. Molly, unused to the kudos of being the wife of a VIW, had been uncertain what the Ministry expected of her. Fortunately, Percy's wife Penelope possessed not only the relevant knowledge but also the supreme and sublime tact to impart it without ruining a, so far, very satisfactory family relationship.
Fred laid the letter aside to read again later in greater detail, smiling at his sister's signature; even after two years, she was still not totally used to being "Ginny Potter".
The second item was a rather battered, muggle-style letter. It seemed to have followed him practically everywhere in the world, finally reaching Bali by dint, it seemed, of Hermione's thoroughness, judging by the redirection details. Fred slit open the crumpled envelope; an engraved card fell to the desk. Curiously, he studied it for a moment then his face creased in an amused smile.
"Way to go, Neville! Well, good on you, man. Hope you're doing the right thing. Ah, well – at least she's used to magic, even if she is a muggle!" He rose from his chair to pin the small card to a green baize board in the corner of the room. The flowing script read:
Dr. & Mrs. Richard Birckheadrequest the honour of your presence
at the Marriage of their daughter
Valerie Jane
to
Mr. Neville Longbottom
on …
The next communication was another personal scroll, but rather shorter than Ginny's newsy missive. Ron's life had altered dramatically in recent times. He had retired from Special Duties after seven years with a small pension, allowing him to work reduced hours in Operations along with his brother George. The life of a Special Duty Auror was considered dangerous and stressful; few people remained in the post for longer than a few years, most burnt out after seven to ten. Ron had decided to quit while he was ahead.
His greater freedom had given him time to pursue hobbies once again and Ron had taken up Quidditch, playing with his local team as Keeper. He also seemed to be following in his father's footsteps, having taken on a consultancy with a firm specialising in customising muggle items for wizard consumption.
Hermione was still extremely busy, happily mixing motherhood with business. Mostly she worked from home and, despite the obvious demands on her time, she still produced better results than most of her full-time colleagues.
Enclosed with the letter was a photograph of the reason why Ron's life had changed so radically; a pretty red-haired little girl of around two years old, waved coyly out at Fred, clutching a fluffy white owl. Yvette Weasley, Fred's niece.
The last scroll also contained enclosures. As the parchment unrolled, they slipped free and fell to the floor. Retrieving them, Fred noted that the letter was from his father. Arthur was brief and to the point: the Malfoy Enquiry, as it was now called, had been concluded. The fallout was less severe than it might have been, but as Fred no longer read the Daily Prophet, Arthur felt he might like to see one or two of the cuttings. Also enclosed were a couple of unrelated items he was sure his son would view with interest, even if they were somewhat out of date.
Turning his attention to the cuttings, Fred grinned as he perused the first:
3rd October: Swifts Do It Again! The Singapore Swifts seem to be having their best season yet, having wiped the floor with three league teams in the past fortnight … looking forward to their much-publicised match next month with the Chudley Cannons. … Manager Oliver Wood, formerly their Keeper, has appointed an assistant who will share tour duties. [See Comment].
He slid the paper aside to reveal part of Rita Skeeter's weekly gossip column.
3rd October: …There has been no hint, but this newspaper is willing to bet that Wood's sudden yen for hearth and home has less to do with overwork than a certain Ministry employee. Miss Julie Wu, subject of a controversial Ministry dismissal and recently reinstated, has been seen in his company frequently now for some months. Speculation on their relationship …
Fred smiled, folding the two small items carefully for further perusal. He then turned to a group of three cuttings clipped together by their corners.
23rd November: Brown resigns! Amid a storm of media interest, Tantalus Brown, Head of Operations at the Ministry of Magic, has left his old post to move sideways into Research. Once hotly tipped to replace Minister Cornelius Fudge, Brown is philosophical about the move. "I'm not as young as I was." he said. "It's time to use my brain now and leave the brawn to others." Brown has been the subject of speculation due to his involvement in the notorious Malfoy Enquiry. However, a Ministry Spokesperson assured us that the rumours had no bearing on his change of position.
Fred snorted and crumpled the thin paper, reaching for the next cutting. This was not a news item but an editorial. He scanned it closely.
16th July: So Tantalus Brown, formerly Head of Operations, Order of Merlin 1st Class, has retired from the Ministry of Magic to spend more time with his family. This announcement is scarcely unexpected, considering his sudden and abrupt sidelining lat last year from Head of Operations to a purely advisory position, but we at the Daily Prophet are still no wiser as to why either of these events should have occurred.
Perhaps dear Tantalus, who seriously blotted his copybook over his treatment of the famous Harry Potter (DP September 19th), has offended one VIW too many. Maybe his Departmental performance was not up to its usual high standard (surely not!), or – dare I suggest it? – is it possible that he has come to blows with the Minister, the redoubtable Jeremy Wingford-Hill?
No comment has been forthcoming from any Ministry spokespersons, but a little bird did whisper in my ear that our dear Tantalus had over-reached himself in the empire-building department, not to mention his reported associations with a number of very unsavoury characters (all now dead, of course, and so unable to comment).RS
Fred found his mouth stretching into a wide grin: this was Rita's very satisfactory revenge for the all-too-frequent gaggings she had been forced to endure from Brown. She had obviously not lost one fraction of her touch over the years. He leafed quickly to the next item, which was short and to the point.
20th September: Obituary – Tantalus Brown O.M., former Head of Operations, Ministry of Magic, passed away quietly at home with his family. His death was sudden but not unexpected following a long illness. His work with the Ministry spanned four decades …
Fred re-read the last three cuttings thoughtfully, then looked back out of the window of his house towards the beach. He could see Syrinx now, playing with some of the local children. They were making sandcastles, building them quickly and effortlessly, just keeping ahead of a sturdy eighteen-month old boy who jumped on their creations as soon as they were finished, pounding them into the ground, shrieking with laughter. The other children laughed too and good-naturedly continued to make them for him to knock down.
As he watched, Syrinx rose awkwardly to her feet and swung the toddler into her arms. Aware of his regard, she turned towards the window and smiled. Fred's eyes lingered on her heavily pregnant profile; it wouldn't be long now, and Geoff would have a brother – or a sister. He smiled back lovingly, shaking his head in wonder at his good fortune, aware that although she could not see him, she would know.
He turned back to the cuttings. He picked up his wand once again and flicked it lightly.
"Aduro!" he said firmly. The pieces of newspaper burst into flame and burned away very quickly in the dry, light air leaving nothing but a stain of ash on the tiled floor. Fred Weasley rose from his chair, leaving the remaining post scattered where it lay, and left his house to join his family in the sun.
FinisOh, woe! How on earth am I going to cope now this is finished! Quickly – somebody tell me some loose ends and I'll write something else to tie them up!