Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the related characters, terms, etc., I only accept credit and/or responsibility for the plot that you don't recognise. So... yeah.
Summary: The commencement ceremony at Hogwarts is traditionally a time where graduating students look forward to a new life away from school or perhaps a continuation of it. What happens though, when there's no place for you to look forward to?
Thanks to: My first beta reader ever, Angel of Black, she was such a big help... Thanks again!
It's Not Easy to Belong
"Harry you know how much I want to stay with you all, help you decide what you're going to do, say my good-byes properly," said Hermione quickly, uncomfortably shifting her weight from side to side.
"It's fine Hermione. I've got Gin and Ron here to help, and you've got a plane to catch in a few hours. Your family's waiting. It's time to go home," said Harry, looking her squarely in face. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were standing on the grand stairs leading to the entrance of Hogwarts, seeing Hermione off to the carriages that were presently leading loads of students off to the Hogsmeade station.
"Oh! I'm going to miss you all so much!" she exclaimed dramatically, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and planting a huge kiss on his lips. "Even you Ron," she said, taking hold of him and doing the same. "And Ginny! Have fun next year; I swear it'll be your best!" Hermione opened her arms wide and waited for Ginny to join her in a warm embrace.
"How come Ginny gets away with a hug and we get our mouths molested?" demanded Ron, looking indignantly from Hermione to Ginny.
Hermione shook her head as she levitated her trunk and charmed it to follow her down the stairs. "You know you like it Ron, but the reason is simple. Ginny will be here next year, that's certain. But you two, I don't know where you two will go... But I do trust that Hedwig will know where to find me," she added, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her best friends and the school she had grown to love for the last seven years. "After our trip, I'll be alternating between the University and my parent's house..." here she sniffed and wiped her nose unceremoniously on her sleeve. "Owl me you four... All the time!" she shouted as she waved, disappearing into one of the carriages.
"Merlin I'm going to miss her..." sighed Ron despondently, leaning against the doorframe.
"We're bound to see her again Ron. You know there's no way Hermione of all people would let things happen differently," said Harry lightly, as he sat on the topmost stair, beckoning Ginny to join him.
"Yes, of course," said Ron uneasily. He had always wanted Harry and Ginny together, but now that they had realised that they wanted the same for themselves, he wasn't sure how he felt anymore. "I'll be in the Commons room you two... I, er, want to make sure that we haven't, er, forgotten to pack anything."
"Alright, we'll see you then," said Harry, turning slightly to watch Ron round a corner.
"Is he gone yet?" whispered Ginny, scooting closer to Harry and slinking her arm around his waist. He nodded and did the same.
"They're interesting aren't they?" she asked, inclining her head in the direction of the thestrals pulling the carriages off the grounds.
"Close your eyes," said Harry. The sense of urgency and the suddenness of his voice scared her and she obliged.
"Because of the thest-" she began, but Harry cut her off.
"Don't laugh Gin. But I don't like knowing that you see them now. It's just that, well, I don't want you to look at them," he admitted hesitantly. Ginny grinned but nodded and kept her eyes closed.
"Let me know when they're gone then?" she asked, turning her face into his shirt and breathing in his scent. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling as she remembered that it might be a long while before she would smell or see Harry Potter again. Of course they had considered life after Hogwarts before, but there were other things to do in the week following commencement that occupied their time. Things like parties, last-minute confessions of true love and the like kept everyone very busy. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all assumed that Harry would just, well, they weren't quite sure what exactly he would do because they had never put any thought into it. They each knew where they would go because they each had family to turn to. It just never occurred to them that Harry didn't have a family, or that whatever family he did have, he didn't want to go to. At present, he was considering renting a flat somewhere in London, close to the ministry so that he could study to become an Auror. Hermione had seconded the notion, although she didn't fancy the idea of Harry living somewhere so unprotected as muggle London. Ginny and Ron had been appalled to know that Harry didn't want to come live at the Burrow and had suffered through a handful of rows concerning his conclusion. At last they had decided to leave the decision to the last minute. That minute had come and it was past time for a verdict.
"They're gone Gin," whispered Harry, kissing the tangle of curls that sat atop Ginny's head. "I know I'm insane but," he began, but it was Ginny's turn to interrupt.
"Let's go, I'm sure Ron's getting bored with his 'packing,'" she said standing. "Oh, and look Harry!" she added, pointing to an owl carrying a large package into the castle. "I bet it's from my mum... probably trying to convince you for the last time that your home is with us..." she began teasingly.
"You know Gin," began Harry, turning Ginny to face him, he put his face close to her ear and whispered, "you're it!" his fingers traced her jaw before he took off at a sprint into the castle.
"Harry Potter! You are impossible... absolutely miserable you are!" screamed Ginny in a tone that rivalled her mother's. She sighed deeply and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before taking off after him.
"Well! Where is it?" she demanded as she climbed through the portrait hole. She had been scolded for running by several paintings and tapestries and was no longer in any mood for play.
"Where's what?" asked Ron innocently as he flipped through a photo album in front of the fireplace. "If you mean Harry, he's upstairs, looking for his invisibility cloak or something. You shouldn't call him 'it' though, it's not polite."
"Harry?" called Ginny, "You're in here aren't you?"
"Maybe," came his voice from somewhere around the staircase. "But maybe I'm right behind you..." he whispered, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. "I'm going for a walk," he announced finally.
"Invisible?" called Ron.
"For old times sake," came the reply as the portrait door swung open and shut.
Harry had expected the sky to be glowing orange with the setting of the sun by the time he got back outside, but he wasn't at all prepared for the sight that greeted him. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the stairs where Harry and Ginny had cuddled minutes earlier.
There was something strikingly different about this Malfoy though. He wasn't shooting snide remarks, ordering people around, or at all behaving like his normal haughty self. Draco Malfoy was crying, sobbing like an infant in fact. But almost as if he sensed Harry's presence, Malfoy bit down on the pad of his thumb, trying to contain himself. Harry watched him with a detached interest for several minutes before something else caught his eye. The package that he and Ginny had seen earlier lay torn open at Draco's feet. Harry's curiosity got the best of him and he crept over to examine the papers closer.
"Why?" roared Draco, tilting his head to the heavens. "Why now? Why me? What the hell am I supposed to do?" The sudden presence of Draco's voice startled Harry and almost sent him hurtling down the steps. As he scrambled to keep his balance, however, he brushed some of the papers off the step and a fateful wind carried them away, toward the lake.
Draco's sobs had picked up again, but this time silently. But before reburying his head in his hands, Draco watched the parchment fly away and inwardly wished that he could muster the strength or simply the willpower to go after the sheets. He couldn't.
Harry looked tentatively between Draco and the papers, morally debating his options. Harry went after the papers. After managing to have caught the majority of the absconding leaves, he stole a last glance at Draco and ran toward the lake. He settled behind a massive oak tree close to the lake's edge and shed his cloak. After reading what had turned out to be an impressively long letter and viewing a series of photographs, Harry fought the urge to shout and be ill all at the same time.
It was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy had been killed the day before commencement but until Harry read the letter, very few people knew who had killed him.
The cover page of the letter was addressed to Draco from the Ministry. It explained that Narcissa, finally tired of ignoring the fact that Lucius was no longer interested in her and sick of keeping the secret that she had become a female cuckold to none other than Bellatrix Black, her cousin, had killed Lucius. That was a week ago. The attached letter was from Narcissa herself. It explained that the guilt of killing her husband was becoming too much to bear. She explained that she had murdered Lucius to end the secrets but had in turn created a new one. She apologized to Draco profusely and then in a fashion as abrupt as the events described, the letter ended.
The included pictures explicitly depicted an elderly house-elf, found cradling a can of Petrol not too far from the burnt body of Mrs. Malfoy in the study. Included also were several pictures of the dead Mrs. Malfoy, all of which were, in the least, unsettling.
Harry had not been so angry with the Ministry since his fifth year. It was as if they were punishing Draco for his parents' past actions. Had this happened to any other student, Harry was certain that there would have been Ministry representatives already waiting to make sure that he was taken care of. It was then that Harry realised that Draco had no where to go. Harry had seen his family tree before and whatever family members Draco had then were either long dead or on the run. Harry folded the papers carefully and put several protective spells on the letter especially. He knew that Draco would want it later.
When Harry rounded the corner, and the massive front stairs came into view, Draco was gone. It took Harry a few moments to spot him walking toward the looming front gates, his trunk levitated behind him.
"Malfoy!" called Harry, suddenly aware of what he was doing, and further aware of the fact that he didn't know what exactly he was going to say.
Malfoy swore vehemently before wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his free arm. "What do you want Potter?" he sneered, turning briefly to glare at Harry.
"Malfoy wait!" yelled Harry, jogging to catch up with him. Malfoy, hearing Harry's quickening pace only sped up his own. "Finite Incantatum!" said Harry, pointing his wand at Malfoy's trunk and wincing as it hit the moist earth with a thud.
"Let me repeat myself Potter... what do you want? Because if you're here to fight me a last time, I'll let you know that I'm not in the mood and I'd kill you without a look behind."
It was then that Harry began to rethink his actions. "I...er, I found this. And I thought you'd want them back," he said, giving a red-eyed Draco the parchment.
"You read it," he retorted, more as a statement than as a question.
"I'm sorry," said Harry quickly; "I know how you must feel."
"Did one of your parents kill the other, and, I don't know, say commit suicide without a further thought about anyone but them self?" Harry's face fell. "No. I didn't think so. So, if you're finished mocking me, you should go. Because I'm sure you're in a rush to go and tell your little friends," said Draco coolly, shrinking the papers and sliding them carefully into his pocket.
"I wouldn't tell a soul," said Harry defensively. "I just wanted to know what you were going to do about it," he added, only now realising how obnoxious he must sound.
"Look. It'll be front-page news tomorrow. And I couldn't care less who you tell. Furthermore, it's none of your business what I do. So, if you'll excuse me," and with that Draco re-levitated his trunk and began walking again.
"Would you just..." began Harry, placing his hand on Draco's shoulder. And before Harry's Quidditch reflexes could kick in, Draco's wand was pointed directly at Harry's chest, brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
"I'll kill you now Potter. Just give me a reason," snarled Draco, his face as red as his usual pallor would allow, eyes unblinking.
"I'm not afraid of you Malfoy... you can say the words if you like, but you can't kill me. Only Voldemort can... So go ahead and try," said Harry, hoping to Merlin that the prophecy would in fact protect him from being murdered by anyone other than Voldemort.
Draco took a long look at Harry before lowering his wand to Harry's navel. "I have no other family," he begun slowly, "I'll visit the family lawyer, collect my money, and then... who knows," Draco closed his eyes briefly before opening them and giving Harry a frightening smirk. "I know what you'll ask next. There is no funeral... the ministry's said that they'll take care of the body... Now, you will excuse me," he said, sticking out his wand to summon the Knight Bus. Draco scowled, doubting his choice of transportation as the Bus came to a screeching stop, narrowly avoiding the gates.
Harry Potter had made up his mind. Walking very slowly, and taking the longest route possible, he paid his last visit to Dumbledore. While he had been expecting a long sending-off speech, he was merely handed a large package and had his hand shaken firmly. Harry left the office feeling thoroughly disappointed.
When he reached the portrait of the fat lady, Harry paused. Setting the box down carefully, he reached out and touched the painting. For a while he stood there, letting his fingers wander over the minute ripples formed by the magical paint. "You're a very beautiful painting, do you know that?" he asked suddenly, bending to retrieve the parcel.
"No one's ever said that to me young man," said the fat lady blushingly.
"Yes, well, you've been very well painted."
"I suppose I should tell you this then," she began, her face bright with the prospect of divulging some secret. "Your friends are in there, having a little row I suspect. They've been going at it for ages. Would you like me to tell you what they're saying?"
Harry nodded, and the fat lady squealed with delight. "It's a girl and a young man. The girl is saying something about being in love, she says that she only wants what's best for, er, Harry, that's you isn't it? And now the boy is yelling, asking how she knows what's best, she doesn't know you... Alright, it's the girl again... Oh! I am not repeating that... I think she's gone up to her room, perhaps you should go in now."
"Right," said Harry, climbing through the hole.
"What's that?" asked Ron, his face red, undoubtedly from yelling.
"The blood vessel."
"The what?" came Ginny's quiet voice from the stairs leading to the dormitories.
"The blood vessel," he repeated, kneeling to unwrap the brown paper. Harry heard Ginny gasp and smiled. "If you think it's impressive from up there, wait until you see it up close."
"Can I touch it?" asked Ginny tentatively, kneeling beside Harry. The blood vessel truly was impressive. It was an elaborately engraved glass cylinder with was unmistakably blood continuously circulating inside of it.
"I don't think you should Gin. I'm not quite sure what would happen," he answered, gently taking hold of the hand that she was reaching toward it.
"What is it, exactly," asked Ron, who had been staring intently at it from across the room.
"It's Petunia's blood... Ron, I swear we've already discussed this. This box will keep the blood 'alive,' meaning wherever the blood is, that'll be my home, and that's where I'll be safest from Voldemort..."
"Why don't you get more than one box then? Maybe a travel size or something?" asked Ginny, standing up and feigning disinterest in the vessel.
"The ministry's said that they'll only give me one... And even Dumbledore doesn't know how to make these things... Besides, Petunia can only tolerate so much contact with the Magical world," he joked. "The ministry sent people to her house once a week for a month... and I think she's given about ten litres total..."
"Oh," said Ginny, now sitting in Ron's old chair. "Harry."
"Yeah, Gin?" he asked, reapplying the paper.
"Look," she began, standing, and putting her hands on hips. "I'm tired of this. You are coming to the Burrow and you are going to live with us. My mother and father love you. I love you. And if you felt the same way about any of us, you'd make the right decision. I'll even give you an ultimatum: either you come live with us or we, Harry and Ginny, are over," she said, her tone one of complete seriousness, despite the fact that she couldn't keep a grin off her face.
"Virginia Weasley. You know better than anyone else does that I love everyone in your entire family, you included. But I can't let you make my decision for me. Not because I don't care, but because I've already made it myself. And I'm somewhat sure that it won't bother you too much."
"Harry Potter. When was the last time I reminded you that you're an insufferable prat?" seethed Ginny.
"Not too long ago..." retorted Harry, pausing to feign thinking.
"Well then, let me remind you. Harry Potter is an insufferable prat!"
"Hear Hear!" seconded Ron, sending blue sparks up from his wand.
"I'll be... elsewhere," huffed Ginny, rushing up the stairs before Harry could come up with some sort of revenge.
"I care about you too mate," said Ron, stifling laughter as he patted Harry on the shoulder and resigned to his room.
Harry sighed and laid himself on the armchair facing the dying fire. He didn't realise he'd fallen asleep until Ginny woke him up. She and Ron were staring down at him, clad in their best muggle clothing and sun hats. "We're leaving now," said Ron simply, pointing to the trunks and random bags littering the floor by the portrait hole.
"Oh."
The trio made their way down to the front gates, trunks levitated behind them, in silence. "I'm going to miss this place mate," said Ron miserably, mustering the will power to signal the Knight Bus.
"Me too."
"Oh shut up!" cried Ginny, flourishing her wand. "You'll be back this time next year when I graduate. It's not like you'll never see the school again!" But before she could properly stick out her wand, the Bus came to a bumbling stop before them. The doors opened with a squeak and an elderly witch in greying robes flew out, her projectile sick barely missing Ginny's shoes. Not too far behind her came a somewhat disgusted-looking Draco.
"Potter. Weasels," he said eying them suspiciously. "I'll kick myself for this later. But a favour?"
"Go ahead," said Harry, an unspoken understanding between them.
"Tell me, is the Headmaster still here?"
"He's always here," sighed Ginny, as matter-of-factly as though she was explaining to him that water was always wet.
"Oh and Potter. If there's anything that you do in your pathetic excuse of an existence, make sure you kill that bastard, properly this time, eh?" With that Draco glided away, leaving behind two very stunned Weasleys.
"Right..." said Harry, wondering what exactly had happened to Draco while he was away.
"Oi! 'Ave a look! It's 'arry Potter!" shouted Stan Shunpike as he jumped out of the bus. He hummed to himself as he grabbed the trunks and threw them into a hatch. He seemed only mildly effected though, when Harry held on possessively to the package that contained the vessel. "Honest guv... 'arry Potter," he kept muttering.
"Three tickets please Stan, hot chocolate, toothbrushes, and the works," smiled Harry, emptying a load of gold into Stan's grubby palm.
"So. Where are yer goin' tonight?" he asked, forcefully ushering the elderly witch back into the bus.
"I'm headed home," said Harry simply, turning to Ginny and smirking.
The next morning, Harry Potter padded into the kitchen after being abruptly awaken by an annoyingly high-spirited Molly Weasley. He plopped down onto a stool, not seeing anything around him until a newspaper was thrust under his nose. He chuckled lightly as he read the headline:
The Malfoy Line Annihilated: Mrs. Malfoy Admits to the Murder of Her Husband and Takes Her Own Life. The Condition of the Youngest Malfoy: Unknown."
"It's a shame isn't it?" asked Ron through a mouthful of toast. He stuffed the remnants of the slice into his mouth before leaving the kitchen.
"Who would have guessed though?" asked Ginny, her legs dangling from the stool adjacent to Harry's. He simply shrugged and stole a sip of Ginny's tea. It was good to be home.
