Professor McGonagall had been informed of the girls' expected presence in
Gryffindor by Dumbledore weeks before they had ever arrived. She personally
thought that bringing the children so far in the past was ill advised: not
only could it possibly ravage the girls' sense of continuum, but also their
bodies. Besides, they were no safer at Hogwarts thirteen years in the past
than they were thirteen years in the future. She had told Dumbledore
numerous times that this would be a bad idea - that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named could find these two innocents across time and space, but Dumbledore
had knowledge she would never possess. The least she could do to help her
old friend was participate in this asinine idea. And the girls had done
nothing wrong. They were as blameless in this situation as she was.
She found the two girls asleep in the dormitory, sleeping at a time when the other children were eating lunch in the Great Hall. Leaping across time apparently took a lot out of you, she reasoned. "Up, you two!" she instructed, pulling up a shade. "The sun has been up for hours." The flame- haired one sat up first, rubbing her very gray eyes. The resemblance to her mother astounded Minerva. The other one, who looked absolutely miniscule compared to her sister, rose a few moments later from the same bed, blinking gray eyes and pushing white blonde strands from her face. A Malfoy if she had ever seen one, McGonagall thought wryly.
"Professor McGonagall, good morning. Rachel, this is Professor McGonagall, she teaches Tranfiguration here at Hogwarts. Go ahead, say hi," said Leah, taking charge of the situation. The blonde one waved shyly. "I am Leah, this is Rachel."
McGonagall took these children in, the offspring of a most unexpected pairing - a Malfoy and a Weasley? How in all things holy did Ms. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy ever put away their hatred long enough to create these two children? "Ms. Weasley is busy in Potions at this moment - I assume she is the only familiar face in Gryffindor at the moment - so we arranged for you two to spend some time with your f- Mr. Malfoy today."
"Thrilling," answered Leah sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"I can see that you enjoy Mr. Malfoy's company as much as I do, but perhaps you two can make a concerted effort to make the best of a bad situation. Professor Dumbledore has told me that you two are here for your own good. That is about the most I can tell you regarding the situation, so do not bother asking,"- she stared directly at Leah -"Miss Malfoy."
"Daddy is quite mean to us," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.
"He is just trying to adjust to a very difficult situation. No one ever expects to meet their children before they have ever been born, Miss Malfoy, but I have no doubt that he makes a very good father in the future. For now, though, he is a teenager. Foolish, egocentric, and stubborn."
The children nodded their understanding.
"You two are the future of Hogwarts and temporary Gryffindors, please make yourselves shining examples of these. Mr. Malfoy is not particularly excited about spending his free hours escorting his daughters around Hogwarts, and I do NOT need Professor Snape parlaying your father's complaints to me. He can be narrow-minded and any number of less-than- exemplary things, but also remember that he is your father. Attempt to treat him as such, not necessarily as a disciplinarian, but as an equal just as confused as you. There are robes for both of you in that closet on the right. Mr. Malfoy will meet you outside the Common Room in a half hour."
****
Draco was mad. Angry. Annoyed. Tired. Scared. Disgusted. Any number of emotions flowed through him as he stood outside Gryffindor waiting for the two girls. Not just any two girls though, his daughters. A redhead and a blonde. Both with gray eyes and a tendency to curl their lips when satisfied. Both intelligent and dedicated to each other. Smart as whips. And a dashing ability to camouflage their fear. That confrontation in the hallway did not exactly reassure him that his future looked rosy in regards to his family life.
The Fat Lady swung open as his two girls clambered out. (He caught himself referring to the girls as HIS, and this scared him.) "Rat, bigger rat," he greeted Rachel and Leah.
"Ferret," they responded in unison reflexively. There were no smiles on any of these faces. How did they know about that? Draco hoped his adult self would have enough sense not to mention that unfortunate incident to his children.
"Let's just put our cards on the table here, okay, Dad? You do not want to be with us, and we do not want to be here period, so let's begrudgingly get through this time together. Look at it as an opportunity to get a new perspective or however Mom puts it whenever we do something new." Leah was obviously frustrated with the whole situation at this point.
Rachel looked as if she were ready to cry.
"Your mother-" started Draco, trying to piece together words to ask her identity.
"Our mother is a very good person, a great person, in fact, but we do not want to talk about who she is right now," Rachel answered. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. He had barely heard her speak thus far. The long sentence amazed him. "And she is not the Hufflepuff you made cry last night. You apologized to her yet?"
The Prefect in him rushed to the fore. "Rachel, do not speak of matters that do not concern you," Draco reprimanded.
"Don't tell me what to do, you're not my d-" Rachel spit out, before second- guessing herself. Her eyebrows furrowed at the fact that he was, in fact, her daddy.
Leah cleared her throat. "We can't very well call you Dad or Father when surrounded by other people. I think the fact that we do it makes you uncomfortable anyway. What would you prefer us to call you?"
He examined his options. "There's always King, Prefect, Sir, Lord, Mr. Malfoy." His girls looked at him as if he had just grown another head. "Or you can just stick with Draco."
"I think we can manage it," Rachel volunteered for the pair of them. She grabbed Draco's hand as he led them away from Gryffindor Tower.
*****
As promised, Draco took the girls on a tour of Hogwarts. He learned precious few details about life in his future, but just from conversation, he could tell that he would have his hands full. The older one was twelve, the younger one seven. The redhead had just finished her first year at Hogwarts before arriving here (and he was none too pleased that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but swore to be just a little nicer to those sniveling idiots.) They were articulate, self-assured young women who, except for the Malfoy stubbornness and penchant for mischief, seemed to have inherited most of their behavior from their mother, whomever she may be. The younger one consistently held his hand - it seemed she did it without thinking. The older one was extremely sly, constantly dropping hints about the future but never revealing anything rock solid. It ripped him up. Did he have a happy marriage? Did he meet her here at Hogwarts? And if she was here, he should be shagging her right now! I mean, marriage was a shoo-in - these kids were proof of this. They did not have to start this ball-and-chain thing now, but he might as well as get a feel for what sex would be like for the rest of his natural born life.
They sat down in the courtyard outside the castle, the older one firing off question after question, but rarely answering anything herself. "And your father? How is he doing?"
He eyed the older one. She acted as if she had never met him, because once you met Lucius Malfoy, you never forgot him. Either his father and him had a major falling out in the future, or he was dead. "My father is very driven. Works for the Ministry of Magic and is on the Board of Governors here at Hogwarts. He has taught me about what being a Malfoy is all about."
"And what IS being a Malfoy all about?" questioned Leah, turning her head abruptly to make eye contact with Draco. Her hair flipped with the movement, reminding him so much of the forbidden Ginny Weasley.
He ran his hands through his hair. "It is about knowing your status in the wizarding world. It is about having people fear and respect you at the same time. It is about power and wealth and all those other great things. Self- respect, respect in your family, and knowing that despite everything in this world, you will always be better than others here."
Some things never changed, Rachel thought. He sounded just like her father did back in their time; she realized that their father had inherited this for his father. Lucius Malfoy's grandchildren, though, had never met him. "Who are we better than?" Rachel asked.
"Three-fourths of the attendees here, Rachel. Mudbloods, Muggles, mixed heritage, the poor. People like Granger, granted while she was alive, and the Weasleys." Draco caught them exchanging amused glances. "What? What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing, Da- Draco," Leah covered. "You just have to remember that things change. And TRUST me, in the future, a whole lot of things change." She changed the subject. "You don't much care for the Weasleys, do you?"
"Not really. I sympathize with their loss - they lost three - well, actually, five, symbolically - of their children during that battle during the summer, the one who worked at the Ministry, one in my year, one of the twins, Potter and Granger. And I guess, in some ways, I miss having those three adversaries around, but they threw themselves into battle. It's their own fault they died. If those kids had stayed here like that girl Weasley, then there wouldn't have been such a loss. Now she is, prematurely, the only Weasley left at Hogwarts, and she is suffering something awful."
Leah's heart fluttered. The loss of her 3 uncles, Potter and Granger had been significant in the life of her mother, but Leah had never known them. Leah was more excited that her father showed concern for Ginny.
"Come on, the Great Hall will be starting first lunch soon," he said, getting up. "I am sure you two are absolutely starving." Leah and Rachel dusted off their robes and followed their father into the Great Hall, about half full of children of all ages, some donning blue, green, scarlet and yellow neckties. She looked over fondly at the table covered by blue - Ravenclaw - her table, her people, her house. Tonight she would be dining green, wearing scarlet, but a member of blue. All Leah needed was to wear yellow socks and she would have all her houses covered.
Rachel and Leah walked some distance behind their father, hearing the consistent call of, "Draco!" "Draco, sit here!" "Malfoy, saved you a spot!" from the Slytherin table. He found space near two bulky looking boys with no necks and mean-looking faces. "Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg," Rachel and Leah said together.
"I have guests tonight," Draco announced to a particularly packed segment of the Slytherin table. His crowd, his schoolfriends, Leah thought. "Pansy, beautiful, would you mind moving a little closer to Millicent, please, so my friends can sit down."
Heads turned towards the girls, walking side by side until they reached a clear segment of bench straight across from their uncles and father. Pansy eyed them suspiciously, announcing, "Draco, you do know they are wearing Gryffindor robes?"
"Yes, I am aware of that fact. My smarts are not isolated to the bedroom, darling," responded Draco, causing Pansy to giggle. Disgusting, thought Leah, he screwed the pinch-faced idiot sitting beside her.
The meal droned on; Draco entertained his group in splendid style, charming as usual and constantly winking at the girls sitting on either side of Leah and Rachel. Quite frankly, neither of them were used to see their father as sociable as he was - it was always work, work, work in their time. Rachel was amused at the fact that Draco had so many stories to tell, but more often absolutely horrified at the jokes he made. It was obvious he forgot that his underage daughters were present at the table. Their uncles, quite playful as adults, occasionally grunted and continually stared at them as if they were pets inappropriately waiting for scraps by the dinner table. The worst part, though, was Pansy and her cohorts sitting on her side, with whom she constantly whispered things while pointing at the sisters. Pansy was apparently too stupid to keep her gossiping subtle. Dumb bitch, thought Leah spitefully.
Leah interrupted her father mid-story with an insistent, "Draco, Rache and I are done eating."
"Hmmm?" he asked absentmindedly, still focused on the conversation.
"We would like to go now, please. Rachel is getting antsy." Pansy had taken her giggling to a new level, and the pointing was getting too much for Leah to handle. "Draco?" No response. "Draco?" No response. Giggling. Story in progress. "DRACO?" Immediate reaction.
"Fine, fine, FINE! Come on, you brats." Huffily, he removed himself from the table.
"Will I see you tonight?" the lovely Miss Parkinson asked Draco quietly, leaning over the table. "Or will you be with the Terrible Twosome?"
"For your lovely body. . ." Draco started, then saw Rachel's lip quiver as she overheard the conversation. Apparently seeing her father with someone other than her mother was too much for the emotional seven year old to handle. They were going to ruin his sex life before they were even born! And he did not even have their mother to shag as a substitute. Damn Dumbledore for doing this to him.
"Not tonight, Pansy."
******
Draco had always had more energy than his young daughters, even as an adult, and today proved to be no exception. He had lost track of time and kept those girls all day, and way past curfew for the second night in a row. They had gone to the water's edge and the stables, to the Slytherin Common Room (much to Pansy's dismay) and to introduce Rachel to her first Quidditch field. By the time he brought them back to Gryffindor, they were ready for bed. Rachel had absolutely no problem yammering away about all the new things they were seeing, although Leah refused to speak to him all together. Apparently, that "brats" comment at the Slytherin table earlier was still eating at her.
They were both walking zombies, heads slumping, eyes almost closed. "Thank you, Daddy, I had fun today," Rachel said before scampering into the Common Room.
"Yes, thank you very much, /Draco/," a half-awake Leah whispered acidly.
Draco, significantly taller than his oldest daughter, bent forward and kissed her cheek. "Neither Rachel nor you are brats," Draco responded dryly before Leah went into the portrait.
The portrait slammed back into place, and for once, the Fat Lady did not ask any questions, especially regarding the way they had addressed him. So, this was father-daughter bonding, he thought derisively, standing there in front of the painting. It was at that moment that someone came forward from the shadows behind him. He drew his wand. "Who is it? Show yourself."
"Put your wand down, Malfoy," a sullen Ginny Weasley whispered. "It's only me, Weasley #7."
"It's past curfew. You shouldn't be out this late at night."
"Look who's talking. How was your day playing chaperone to Leah and Rachel?"
"It was, umm, interesting. They sort of put a cramp in my transcendent style, but other than that, it was okay."
"Why did Dumbledore pick you of all people to show those girls around? You aren't exactly well known for your hospitality."
"They are sort friends of the family." He eyed her. "You aren't known for your saintly qualities either, Weasley. Why did Dumbledore choose you to show them around?
"Two reasons, probably. First, I am Gryffindor, and that's where the open beds were. And second of all, with everything that has been going on - losing my brothers, Harry and Hermione - I think Dumbledore just wanted to know I would have something to do. A diversion to keep my mind off my pain," she reasoned.
"You doing okay?"
"You know, Malfoy, this is the second time you have asked me that. If you're trying to get into my skirts, let me tell you right now that it will never happen - so don't waste your time."
"Weasley, what's under your skirts is about as appealing to me as what is under Longbottom's trousers." He went to sit down on a bench around the corner from the portrait. She joined him. "How are you doing?"
She took a moment to take in the situation. She was sitting in the dark outside Gryffindor on a bench with Draco Malfoy, discussing her feelings. A week ago, the chances of this occurring were up there with Professor Snape mating with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Fine - I'm doing fine, but I miss him so much."
"I can see that you do," he said quietly, through clenched teeth. "By him, you mean them, don't you? You lost more than Potter that night, Weasley, or must I remind you?"
Ginny looked at him aghast, amazed that he could speak to easily of the dead - her dead. Her friends, her family, her /everything/. She had said "them," hadn't she? "Don't pretend you give a damn about Harry, Hermione or my brothers, Malfoy. Falsehoods don't suit you, despite the fact that you are Slytherin."
"I can't help but notice that Potter's name was the first one off your tongue. You still harboring that crush on him, even after he's been dead and buried for six months now?"
The tears welled in her eyes. Yes, she missed him - she missed them. Them all. She would not do Malfoy the service of seeing her cry.
He rose off the bench, and softly touched her tightly fisted hands that lay in her lap. "Potter is dead, Weasley. You must face that. That famous Muggle - won a war or something, Winston Chapel or Church-something, once 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Potter did not put his life on the line for you to sit on this bench, mourning him. He did it so you could live free of the Dark Lord. Do him - and your brothers and Granger - a favor. . . do that which they can do no longer. . .
"Live."
She found the two girls asleep in the dormitory, sleeping at a time when the other children were eating lunch in the Great Hall. Leaping across time apparently took a lot out of you, she reasoned. "Up, you two!" she instructed, pulling up a shade. "The sun has been up for hours." The flame- haired one sat up first, rubbing her very gray eyes. The resemblance to her mother astounded Minerva. The other one, who looked absolutely miniscule compared to her sister, rose a few moments later from the same bed, blinking gray eyes and pushing white blonde strands from her face. A Malfoy if she had ever seen one, McGonagall thought wryly.
"Professor McGonagall, good morning. Rachel, this is Professor McGonagall, she teaches Tranfiguration here at Hogwarts. Go ahead, say hi," said Leah, taking charge of the situation. The blonde one waved shyly. "I am Leah, this is Rachel."
McGonagall took these children in, the offspring of a most unexpected pairing - a Malfoy and a Weasley? How in all things holy did Ms. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy ever put away their hatred long enough to create these two children? "Ms. Weasley is busy in Potions at this moment - I assume she is the only familiar face in Gryffindor at the moment - so we arranged for you two to spend some time with your f- Mr. Malfoy today."
"Thrilling," answered Leah sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"I can see that you enjoy Mr. Malfoy's company as much as I do, but perhaps you two can make a concerted effort to make the best of a bad situation. Professor Dumbledore has told me that you two are here for your own good. That is about the most I can tell you regarding the situation, so do not bother asking,"- she stared directly at Leah -"Miss Malfoy."
"Daddy is quite mean to us," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.
"He is just trying to adjust to a very difficult situation. No one ever expects to meet their children before they have ever been born, Miss Malfoy, but I have no doubt that he makes a very good father in the future. For now, though, he is a teenager. Foolish, egocentric, and stubborn."
The children nodded their understanding.
"You two are the future of Hogwarts and temporary Gryffindors, please make yourselves shining examples of these. Mr. Malfoy is not particularly excited about spending his free hours escorting his daughters around Hogwarts, and I do NOT need Professor Snape parlaying your father's complaints to me. He can be narrow-minded and any number of less-than- exemplary things, but also remember that he is your father. Attempt to treat him as such, not necessarily as a disciplinarian, but as an equal just as confused as you. There are robes for both of you in that closet on the right. Mr. Malfoy will meet you outside the Common Room in a half hour."
****
Draco was mad. Angry. Annoyed. Tired. Scared. Disgusted. Any number of emotions flowed through him as he stood outside Gryffindor waiting for the two girls. Not just any two girls though, his daughters. A redhead and a blonde. Both with gray eyes and a tendency to curl their lips when satisfied. Both intelligent and dedicated to each other. Smart as whips. And a dashing ability to camouflage their fear. That confrontation in the hallway did not exactly reassure him that his future looked rosy in regards to his family life.
The Fat Lady swung open as his two girls clambered out. (He caught himself referring to the girls as HIS, and this scared him.) "Rat, bigger rat," he greeted Rachel and Leah.
"Ferret," they responded in unison reflexively. There were no smiles on any of these faces. How did they know about that? Draco hoped his adult self would have enough sense not to mention that unfortunate incident to his children.
"Let's just put our cards on the table here, okay, Dad? You do not want to be with us, and we do not want to be here period, so let's begrudgingly get through this time together. Look at it as an opportunity to get a new perspective or however Mom puts it whenever we do something new." Leah was obviously frustrated with the whole situation at this point.
Rachel looked as if she were ready to cry.
"Your mother-" started Draco, trying to piece together words to ask her identity.
"Our mother is a very good person, a great person, in fact, but we do not want to talk about who she is right now," Rachel answered. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. He had barely heard her speak thus far. The long sentence amazed him. "And she is not the Hufflepuff you made cry last night. You apologized to her yet?"
The Prefect in him rushed to the fore. "Rachel, do not speak of matters that do not concern you," Draco reprimanded.
"Don't tell me what to do, you're not my d-" Rachel spit out, before second- guessing herself. Her eyebrows furrowed at the fact that he was, in fact, her daddy.
Leah cleared her throat. "We can't very well call you Dad or Father when surrounded by other people. I think the fact that we do it makes you uncomfortable anyway. What would you prefer us to call you?"
He examined his options. "There's always King, Prefect, Sir, Lord, Mr. Malfoy." His girls looked at him as if he had just grown another head. "Or you can just stick with Draco."
"I think we can manage it," Rachel volunteered for the pair of them. She grabbed Draco's hand as he led them away from Gryffindor Tower.
*****
As promised, Draco took the girls on a tour of Hogwarts. He learned precious few details about life in his future, but just from conversation, he could tell that he would have his hands full. The older one was twelve, the younger one seven. The redhead had just finished her first year at Hogwarts before arriving here (and he was none too pleased that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but swore to be just a little nicer to those sniveling idiots.) They were articulate, self-assured young women who, except for the Malfoy stubbornness and penchant for mischief, seemed to have inherited most of their behavior from their mother, whomever she may be. The younger one consistently held his hand - it seemed she did it without thinking. The older one was extremely sly, constantly dropping hints about the future but never revealing anything rock solid. It ripped him up. Did he have a happy marriage? Did he meet her here at Hogwarts? And if she was here, he should be shagging her right now! I mean, marriage was a shoo-in - these kids were proof of this. They did not have to start this ball-and-chain thing now, but he might as well as get a feel for what sex would be like for the rest of his natural born life.
They sat down in the courtyard outside the castle, the older one firing off question after question, but rarely answering anything herself. "And your father? How is he doing?"
He eyed the older one. She acted as if she had never met him, because once you met Lucius Malfoy, you never forgot him. Either his father and him had a major falling out in the future, or he was dead. "My father is very driven. Works for the Ministry of Magic and is on the Board of Governors here at Hogwarts. He has taught me about what being a Malfoy is all about."
"And what IS being a Malfoy all about?" questioned Leah, turning her head abruptly to make eye contact with Draco. Her hair flipped with the movement, reminding him so much of the forbidden Ginny Weasley.
He ran his hands through his hair. "It is about knowing your status in the wizarding world. It is about having people fear and respect you at the same time. It is about power and wealth and all those other great things. Self- respect, respect in your family, and knowing that despite everything in this world, you will always be better than others here."
Some things never changed, Rachel thought. He sounded just like her father did back in their time; she realized that their father had inherited this for his father. Lucius Malfoy's grandchildren, though, had never met him. "Who are we better than?" Rachel asked.
"Three-fourths of the attendees here, Rachel. Mudbloods, Muggles, mixed heritage, the poor. People like Granger, granted while she was alive, and the Weasleys." Draco caught them exchanging amused glances. "What? What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing, Da- Draco," Leah covered. "You just have to remember that things change. And TRUST me, in the future, a whole lot of things change." She changed the subject. "You don't much care for the Weasleys, do you?"
"Not really. I sympathize with their loss - they lost three - well, actually, five, symbolically - of their children during that battle during the summer, the one who worked at the Ministry, one in my year, one of the twins, Potter and Granger. And I guess, in some ways, I miss having those three adversaries around, but they threw themselves into battle. It's their own fault they died. If those kids had stayed here like that girl Weasley, then there wouldn't have been such a loss. Now she is, prematurely, the only Weasley left at Hogwarts, and she is suffering something awful."
Leah's heart fluttered. The loss of her 3 uncles, Potter and Granger had been significant in the life of her mother, but Leah had never known them. Leah was more excited that her father showed concern for Ginny.
"Come on, the Great Hall will be starting first lunch soon," he said, getting up. "I am sure you two are absolutely starving." Leah and Rachel dusted off their robes and followed their father into the Great Hall, about half full of children of all ages, some donning blue, green, scarlet and yellow neckties. She looked over fondly at the table covered by blue - Ravenclaw - her table, her people, her house. Tonight she would be dining green, wearing scarlet, but a member of blue. All Leah needed was to wear yellow socks and she would have all her houses covered.
Rachel and Leah walked some distance behind their father, hearing the consistent call of, "Draco!" "Draco, sit here!" "Malfoy, saved you a spot!" from the Slytherin table. He found space near two bulky looking boys with no necks and mean-looking faces. "Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg," Rachel and Leah said together.
"I have guests tonight," Draco announced to a particularly packed segment of the Slytherin table. His crowd, his schoolfriends, Leah thought. "Pansy, beautiful, would you mind moving a little closer to Millicent, please, so my friends can sit down."
Heads turned towards the girls, walking side by side until they reached a clear segment of bench straight across from their uncles and father. Pansy eyed them suspiciously, announcing, "Draco, you do know they are wearing Gryffindor robes?"
"Yes, I am aware of that fact. My smarts are not isolated to the bedroom, darling," responded Draco, causing Pansy to giggle. Disgusting, thought Leah, he screwed the pinch-faced idiot sitting beside her.
The meal droned on; Draco entertained his group in splendid style, charming as usual and constantly winking at the girls sitting on either side of Leah and Rachel. Quite frankly, neither of them were used to see their father as sociable as he was - it was always work, work, work in their time. Rachel was amused at the fact that Draco had so many stories to tell, but more often absolutely horrified at the jokes he made. It was obvious he forgot that his underage daughters were present at the table. Their uncles, quite playful as adults, occasionally grunted and continually stared at them as if they were pets inappropriately waiting for scraps by the dinner table. The worst part, though, was Pansy and her cohorts sitting on her side, with whom she constantly whispered things while pointing at the sisters. Pansy was apparently too stupid to keep her gossiping subtle. Dumb bitch, thought Leah spitefully.
Leah interrupted her father mid-story with an insistent, "Draco, Rache and I are done eating."
"Hmmm?" he asked absentmindedly, still focused on the conversation.
"We would like to go now, please. Rachel is getting antsy." Pansy had taken her giggling to a new level, and the pointing was getting too much for Leah to handle. "Draco?" No response. "Draco?" No response. Giggling. Story in progress. "DRACO?" Immediate reaction.
"Fine, fine, FINE! Come on, you brats." Huffily, he removed himself from the table.
"Will I see you tonight?" the lovely Miss Parkinson asked Draco quietly, leaning over the table. "Or will you be with the Terrible Twosome?"
"For your lovely body. . ." Draco started, then saw Rachel's lip quiver as she overheard the conversation. Apparently seeing her father with someone other than her mother was too much for the emotional seven year old to handle. They were going to ruin his sex life before they were even born! And he did not even have their mother to shag as a substitute. Damn Dumbledore for doing this to him.
"Not tonight, Pansy."
******
Draco had always had more energy than his young daughters, even as an adult, and today proved to be no exception. He had lost track of time and kept those girls all day, and way past curfew for the second night in a row. They had gone to the water's edge and the stables, to the Slytherin Common Room (much to Pansy's dismay) and to introduce Rachel to her first Quidditch field. By the time he brought them back to Gryffindor, they were ready for bed. Rachel had absolutely no problem yammering away about all the new things they were seeing, although Leah refused to speak to him all together. Apparently, that "brats" comment at the Slytherin table earlier was still eating at her.
They were both walking zombies, heads slumping, eyes almost closed. "Thank you, Daddy, I had fun today," Rachel said before scampering into the Common Room.
"Yes, thank you very much, /Draco/," a half-awake Leah whispered acidly.
Draco, significantly taller than his oldest daughter, bent forward and kissed her cheek. "Neither Rachel nor you are brats," Draco responded dryly before Leah went into the portrait.
The portrait slammed back into place, and for once, the Fat Lady did not ask any questions, especially regarding the way they had addressed him. So, this was father-daughter bonding, he thought derisively, standing there in front of the painting. It was at that moment that someone came forward from the shadows behind him. He drew his wand. "Who is it? Show yourself."
"Put your wand down, Malfoy," a sullen Ginny Weasley whispered. "It's only me, Weasley #7."
"It's past curfew. You shouldn't be out this late at night."
"Look who's talking. How was your day playing chaperone to Leah and Rachel?"
"It was, umm, interesting. They sort of put a cramp in my transcendent style, but other than that, it was okay."
"Why did Dumbledore pick you of all people to show those girls around? You aren't exactly well known for your hospitality."
"They are sort friends of the family." He eyed her. "You aren't known for your saintly qualities either, Weasley. Why did Dumbledore choose you to show them around?
"Two reasons, probably. First, I am Gryffindor, and that's where the open beds were. And second of all, with everything that has been going on - losing my brothers, Harry and Hermione - I think Dumbledore just wanted to know I would have something to do. A diversion to keep my mind off my pain," she reasoned.
"You doing okay?"
"You know, Malfoy, this is the second time you have asked me that. If you're trying to get into my skirts, let me tell you right now that it will never happen - so don't waste your time."
"Weasley, what's under your skirts is about as appealing to me as what is under Longbottom's trousers." He went to sit down on a bench around the corner from the portrait. She joined him. "How are you doing?"
She took a moment to take in the situation. She was sitting in the dark outside Gryffindor on a bench with Draco Malfoy, discussing her feelings. A week ago, the chances of this occurring were up there with Professor Snape mating with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Fine - I'm doing fine, but I miss him so much."
"I can see that you do," he said quietly, through clenched teeth. "By him, you mean them, don't you? You lost more than Potter that night, Weasley, or must I remind you?"
Ginny looked at him aghast, amazed that he could speak to easily of the dead - her dead. Her friends, her family, her /everything/. She had said "them," hadn't she? "Don't pretend you give a damn about Harry, Hermione or my brothers, Malfoy. Falsehoods don't suit you, despite the fact that you are Slytherin."
"I can't help but notice that Potter's name was the first one off your tongue. You still harboring that crush on him, even after he's been dead and buried for six months now?"
The tears welled in her eyes. Yes, she missed him - she missed them. Them all. She would not do Malfoy the service of seeing her cry.
He rose off the bench, and softly touched her tightly fisted hands that lay in her lap. "Potter is dead, Weasley. You must face that. That famous Muggle - won a war or something, Winston Chapel or Church-something, once 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Potter did not put his life on the line for you to sit on this bench, mourning him. He did it so you could live free of the Dark Lord. Do him - and your brothers and Granger - a favor. . . do that which they can do no longer. . .
"Live."