Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: belong to the wonderful JK Rowling. Don't own Baldrick from Blackadder, either. I think he belongs to Auntie (that's the BBC).
A/N: I know where the phrase "being sent down" comes from! The tour guide at Lancaster Castle told me when I went!
Can any of you lot out there tell me what the letters in VCR stand for? Please? I'll give the first person to respond chocolate (virtual only unless you happen to be someone I know in person)
Author responses to chapter 29:
Riob: what part of the dialogue in the solicitor's did you find confusing? Let me know and I'll try to clear up and confusion! I agree with you about wanting to read all the papers and everything; Hermione certainly is! But Draco just wants to be done with it all. As for the suggestion of a twist, I say nothing!
Regarding Draco's inheritance, as nobody specific is named in any legal document as to who is a "suitable" wife for Draco, he gets everything because Snape has been Draco's legal guardian in the absence of his parents and thus has the input into who a "suitable" woman would be – and of course he's going to deem Hannah thus, so Draco gets everything!
I'm not saying if they find anything earth-shattering in the house.
Details of Draco's condition will be found at the end of the epilogue, which goes up in (gasp) only a fortnight from now!
Yay! I'm getting lots of Draco-sympathy from my readers! Good good; keep it coming!
There is somewhere that tells us how old James and Lily were when they had Harry. Can't put my finger on it exactly (mainly because I'm moving back home in just over a fortnight and my HP books are all 300 miles away already at home).
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Chapter 30: Homes
It took a week for the whole of the Manor to be cleared. A large collection of Dark objects had been unearthed in the meeting room, guest quarters and Lucius' study, and were handed over to the Ministry. There was a strong possibility, they were informed, that these objects could bring down a number of people who currently believed themselves free of suspicion. This could only be done once Sirius and Lupin had removed the security spells (this had taken the best part of a day). A lot of things had been sorted, packed up and sent for sale. Draco kept a lot of the books from his father's library and some of his mother's art materials. Most of the furniture was also to be sold.
"We should get our own place," Draco said to Hannah as they sat in the dining room for the last time. "It's not fair on Lupin for us all to live there indefinitely – and besides, we need somewhere for all of our stuff. We can't keep it in the storage place forever."
"We could start looking tomorrow, if you like," suggested Hannah, getting to her feet.
"That sounds like a good plan." He slowly stood and looked around the room for the final time. "I'm glad to be leaving here for good," he confessed.
"Apart from when prospective buyers want to look around," she pointed out.
"That's not my responsibility; that's up to the lawyers and the estate people." His tone was abrupt as he slipped his hand into her warm one. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
They walked out of the manor, hand in hand, and Draco locked the door behind them before they Apparated back to Lupin's. It was late by now – Draco's watch told him that it was nine-thirty. He was exhausted and muttered something about bed before he slipped out of the room.
"So, all is completed," observed Dumbledore from the kitchen table.
Hannah jumped. "P-Professor Dumbledore! W-what are you doing here?"
"To see how my young ex-students are getting on," replied the headmaster, smiling warmly at her. "And I would say that they are more than ready for the adult world now, with very little indeed to hinder them."
"I begin my Mediwitch training in September," Hannah told him. "I'll be training at St. Mungo's."
"Then I wish you all the luck in the world, Miss Abbott – or rather, I should say, the future Mrs. Malfoy? And I understand that Mr. Malfoy will be working on medicinal potion research there as well?"
Hannah shrugged, suddenly sober. "If he's well enough. Right now I don't think he is. He's completely shattered; he'll be in bed for about a week now." She shook her head sadly and sank down into the chair across from Dumbledore. "He's still so…so…fragile. They probably won't let him work. What if he never gets better?" She looked up at him, despair, fear and worry clear in her blue eyes.
"I should imagine that you are more than capable of living with it. As long as he has you, he has the motivation to recover as much as he possibly can. Of that, I am certain." He glanced into his mug. "My coffee appears to have grown cold. Ah, well. Perhaps you would like some?"
Hannah shook her head. "No thank you, sir. I'm not in the mood for coffee." She pushed her thick blonde hair from her face and twisted a scrunchie around it to keep it like that. "I'm too worried about Draco." She sighed heavily, looking and feeling far older than her eighteen years.
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. "I understand. He still has much to sort out in his mind, and I rather suspect that he has yet to come to terms with the deaths of his parents; such things take a long time. I am no medical expert, as Poppy will tell you, but I cannot see how a period of enforced rest can hurt him.
"Now, I gather Harry is to become a Puddlemere United Seeker? It certainly gives me even more reason to support them."
"It was a choice between them and the Chudley Cannons, but Oliver Wood's at Puddlemere United, which swung it for Harry," explained Hannah. "Most of the people where I live are Arrows fans, but I've never really been into Quidditch, so I'm going to support Puddlemere."
"They've always been my team, United," remarked Dumbledore, more to himself than to Hannah. He stood and set his mug down on the table, nodding at Hannah. "Good luck, Miss Abbott. I have a feeling that there are those at large still that would desire to see the dominance of a Dark Lord." And with that he left, leaving Hannah alone and suddenly anxious, deep in thought.
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Two weeks later, Felicity Lockwood was elected as the new Minister for Magic. Fudge's whereabouts were unknown while the elections took place, but people were not bothered by this. He no longer had any power, which was the important thing in the eyes of most of the British wizarding community. Right until his final day in office, he had determinedly and wholeheartedly insisted that Voldemort had not risen again, even after the deaths of several of his family at the hands of Death Eaters. The news of Lockwood's appointment sent fresh waves of new hope through a decimated society – she was well-liked by all that knew her, a former Ravenclaw and Head Girl during her seven years at Hogwarts. She had taught Arithmancy for two years before deciding that teaching was not for her.
"Seen the paper this morning?" inquired Sirius, lobbing that morning's Daily Prophet at a bleary-eyed Harry. He ducked just in time and Hermione, standing close behind him, caught it in her non-dominant left hand. She smirked at Sirius. "I believe I have now," she responded teasingly, unrolling the paper. "Oh good! I'm glad Lockwood got in." She scanned the article. "Huge majority, apparently."
"Have you two found a house yet?" asked Lupin from the open back door. "I'm not trying to get rid of you; I was simply wondering."
Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. It's been low on our priority list at the moment, to be honest. Harry wouldn't mind moving to somewhere like Godric's Hollow, and I'm inclined to agree; it's a nice area. The thing is, I'm going back to Mum and Dad's next week, so it's going to be a bit more difficult."
Lupin and Sirius caught each other's gaze and Lupin lowered the mug of coffee he was holding. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Padfoot?"
"Quite possibly, Moony old friend."
"Huh?" Harry, still more asleep than awake, blinked dumbly up at them from where he was now sitting at the kitchen table. "Am I not getting something I'm meant to be getting?"
"Would you possibly be thinking of the site of Lily and James' house, Padfoot?"
"I could well be, Moony."
"What?" demanded Harry, still not quite with it, his sleep-addled brain not really registering all of the conversation taking place around him.
Hermione, having had enough of this, shot a stream of ice-cold water from her wand into Harry's face. That woke him up. "Fine. Fine! You've made your point! I'm awake!" He dried his face on the towel Sirius handed to him. "Now, tell me again what you two are wittering on about."
Lupin set his mug down on the draining board with the rest of the dirty utensils and sat down opposite Harry. "You want to live in Godric's Hollow," he stated. Harry nodded and the werewolf continued. "It could be arranged for a house to be built there, on the site of your parents' house – which, as you know, is still technically Potter property. If you want to, that is."
Harry was silent, idly drawing invisible circles on the table with his right index finger, mulling over what Lupin had told him. It wasn't anything he had really considered before; in fact, if he was honest with himself, he had expected the site of the old house to be some sort of memorial to his parents and himself.
Eventually, having made up his mind, he spoke. "I – I think I'd like that," he said quietly, smiling at his former teacher. It was an odd smile, in Hermione's eyes – a mixture of gratefulness and sadness. The mixture, however, was perfectly understandable in Hermione's eyes.
Lupin returned the smile. "Naturally we'll discuss everything with you first – you are the one who'll be living there, after all."
Harry shrugged. "It's about time Potters lived on that site again." He twisted round in his chair to look up at Hermione. "As long as it's OK with you, 'Mione."
Hermione beamed. She'd been hoping he would approve. "I think it's wonderful."
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That evening, when he and Hannah had finalised the legal details for their home next door to Harry and Hermione (both with big gardens, of course) and returned to Lupin's, Draco received a letter. It had been typed on a Muggle computer, no doubt to disguise the author's own handwriting.
Draco Malfoy –
You may think that the Dark Lord has gone forever, and with him the Dark Side, those who will always be loyal to the cause of the Dark Lord. Although the former is true, the latter is not. There is an even higher price on your head since your father died at your hand. Defecting to the same side as those such as Harry Potter is not looked upon favourably by those who value the importance of blood, as you once did. The price you have paid is too high for your own good.
Watch your back. The Dark Side will never surrender and will never die.
Draco read the letter several times, comprehending its meaning all too well, memories of his father's death suddenly, vividly, violently coming back to him. The letter fell from his hand as the memories overwhelmed him. He had only been protecting himself; his father was the one who had used an illegal curse. He shouldn't feel guilty. He shouldn't. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to drive the horrors from his mind.
"Draco? Is something wrong?" asked Hannah in concern as she sat down beside him on his bed.
Wordlessly, he pointed to the letter and let her pick it up. "I – I can't identify the sender, but – but I just have this feeling that – that it's true. Coupled with what Dumbledore said to you…" The expression on his pale face darkened. "I can't help but think we're going to descend into the way things were when – when Voldemort was in power. I don't think it'll happen immediately, but it seems rather…ominous, somehow."
"And just when we thought we'd won, too," replied Hannah grimly. "Although if you want my opinion, I think it's just someone trying to scare you. Personally, I want to know who sent it. Notice the lengths they've gone to to disguise their identity by typing it rather than writing it." She genuinely believed this to be the case; she was not simply saying it in an attempt to reassure Draco.
Draco agitatedly ran his still-skeletal fingers through his hair. "Maybe someone from school? Pansy's awaiting trial but she'll get sent down; Millicent's already in Azkaban…there's no way it could be Crabbe or Goyle; they're too stupid…" He shook his head. "No; it's no good. There are too many people it could be. This is the problem – it could be just about anyone from Slytherin, or someone from another House, or someone else entirely that hates my guts! This is what happens when you 'defect' to the opposition."
"But you didn't 'defect'; you made a sensible decision!"
Draco shrugged wearily. "Do you honestly think it matters to these people? They're quite happy to completely ignore the fact that I was never a Death Eater – although in the case of some, it's quite possible that they never knew whether I was or not. But they just assumed that because of my family background and my parents' roles in the whole business, and the fact that the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin when it barely touched my head, that I would automatically join Voldemort. In some ways that was good, because it meant that they weren't keeping things from my hearing." He smiled wryly. "I got more than the occasional snippet of information to Dumbledore via Snape. None of them were suspicious when I kept slipping off to see Snape about something – they knew I studied a lot, particularly when it came to Potions. And not just because I always wanted to outdo Hermione – although I confess that that was the original reason."
"So you were a spy?" Hannah pressed. She was amazed (although not altogether surprised) at the risks he had taken. She knew as well as anyone the risks a perceived "deviant" took in Slytherin.
Draco was silent for a moment. "I suppose I was. I've never really thought of it like that before…but yes, I was. I was a spy." He shrugged, standing and wandering over to the window, hands stuffed into his pockets, gazing unseeingly out over the garden and beyond, lost in his thoughts. Hannah got up and stood next to him, slipping her arm around his waist. She knew the letter had unnerved him, certainly more than he was prepared to admit. She was too. But then, evil never really goes away completely and for good, she thought. In some ways, the good needs the evil. Light to counter dark. You need one to balance the other; without the dark, people can't tell what's really 'light'. She laughed quietly.
"What's funny?" asked Draco, leaning his head against her shoulder.
She shook her head. "Nothing. I think I'm getting too philosophical."
"Please do it on someone else."
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Towards the end of July, Malfoy Manor was sold to a couple who intended to turn it into a hotel. Draco was greatly relieved to have finally cut all ties with the past. He had warned the couple that there were several ghosts hanging around. They had reacted completely differently to the way he had anticipated – they were extremely excited about the prospect of being able to advertise the fact that the place was haunted. It transpired that they were members of a local supernatural society that specialised in recording apparently supernatural phenomena. "That was an excellent result," Draco declared when the final letter of sale came though. "I got rid of the place and they get something that's perfect in their eyes."
Harry got to his feet. "I just remembered – I need to owl Fred and George about something." He left the room.
Hermione leaned forwards and cast a Silencing charm on the room. "How's the surprise birthday party coming along?" she asked, lowering her voice. Just in case. When planning such events, one could never be too careful.
"Just waiting to hear from Cecilia Rickman," replied Hannah. "Now, Harry definitely doesn't know anything?"
"Definitely," Sirius assured her. "He never has any inclination to read my post and we've spread the invitations out between all of us – including McGonagall – and over the space of several days to make sure he doesn't get suspicious at the number of letters arriving for any one of us. That was a good idea, Hannah. I take it Izzy and Mazzy are in charge of catering?"
"And Winky and Dobby and about half a dozen of the other Hogwarts house-elves," Hermione informed him. "The only problem with the whole plan is getting Harry out of the house for the entire day without him realising what's going on, but so far I've drawn a complete blank. Does anyone else have any ideas?"
"Draco, you should be in your element here!" Sirius teased.
Draco grinned. "Oh, I am. In the words of Baldrick from Blackadder, 'I have a cunning plan'."
"Somehow, I think your 'cunning plan' is more likely to work than Baldrick's generally do," commented Hermione, grinning. Lupin, although the child of two magic folk, was reasonably knowledgeable about the Muggle world and had quite a few Muggle items in his house. These included a television and VCR. Hermione, upon discovering this, had owled her parents and got them to send their set of all the Blackadder programmes on video. Her reasoning was that laughter was good for you and it would help people recover from the horrors that they had seen and experienced during the war.
"Take him to Diagon Alley and dump him in Quality Quidditch Supplies; he'll spend the entire day in there given half a chance. Have lunch – if you can drag him out of QQS – and maybe wander Muggle London for a while in the afternoon. Whatever you do, don't bring him back before six o'clock," ordered Draco. "Otherwise we won't be ready and/or people that are coming won't be here, and that'll just ruin everything. Don't let him pay for lunch or anything – unless it's really expensive and/or from QQS. And hasn't he got to get his Puddlemere robes at some point?"
"Not till mid-August when he reports for pre-season training – that's when he gets fitted," Hermione informed him. "But I'm pretty confident in being able to lose him in the Quidditch shop for a few hours!"
Hannah, glancing out of the window, caught sight of Hedwig flying off. "Change the topic!" she hissed urgently. "Harry'll be down at any moment!"
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TBC
