4/30/21
Author's Note: Wow, did I wait until the very last minute to finish writing this chapter and post it before the end of the month or what? So sorry for the delay. I hope this extremely long, nearly 10,000-word chapter makes up for the wait.
I've already started working on the next chapter, and I promise that chapter 7 will be better than this one. "Better how, Jessica?" Better in all the ways, dear readers. All. The. Ways. *eyes emoji*
I'd be interested to hear what your guesses are for May's holiday/event! In 2006, Mother's Day in the UK fell in March, so I'll go ahead and give you a hint that May will not be a Mother's Day chapter like in the movie. :)
Holidating
by idreamofdraco
Easter Sunday 2006
Narcissa Malfoy was not a woman to entertain nonsense, and it was clear by the pursing of her lips that she considered this entire scenario nonsense.
"When you said you were bringing a date to lunch, I was not expecting… this."
Ginny merely scowled down at her plate. Ever since they'd arrived at Malfoy Manor, her expression had been tight. How could Draco blame her, though? Ginny Weasley stepping foot inside Malfoy Manor, after all the atrocities that had been committed there during the war, to spend Easter lunch with both of his parents was quite a different thing compared to Draco stepping foot inside the Burrow to spend time with her family. For one, no one had ever been murdered at the Burrow, as far as Draco knew. Also, the Weasleys had never tortured or imprisoned any of Draco's family or friends in their drawing room or dungeon. So, sure, the atmosphere was a bit different between their two homes.
It had been a lot to ask of her, but to be quite honest, Draco had never entertained the idea that she would agree to attend. After the way he'd behaved the morning after St. Patrick's Day—the way he'd lost his mind and propositioned her against his better judgment, causing her to storm out of his flat in disgust—he had been certain he'd never hear from her again. It had been a surprise to find her owl pecking at his bedroom window a few mornings ago with a letter inviting him to spend Easter with her family.
So where did they stand now after the way they'd left things in March? Surely she wouldn't hold onto their holidate agreement if she truly despised him. He returned her letter with an invitation of his own under the assumption that if she accepted it, that would tell him something about how she felt about him. She'd accepted, and he still had no idea.
She'd been polite if a little chilly since their arrival, but Draco was nearly certain that chilliness was caused by the manor and his parents, not Draco himself. That small bit of uncertainty kept him on his toes.
"You were not expecting what exactly? Such a talented Quidditch player to be my date? Or someone so incredibly charming?" Draco asked, his voice cool and confident. No matter what might be broken between him and Ginny, he had still brought her here, which meant he had a responsibility toward her. Not necessarily to protect her (she probably wouldn't like that), but to support her. They were holidates, teammates, friends—if he hadn't ruined their progress toward that designation a month ago. He was on her side, even if his own parents were against her.
"You know what your mother means," Lucius said. His food sat untouched on his plate, and his head was turned away toward the garden, as if he had been forced to attend this meal by his wife and had no desire to pretend otherwise.
"I do not. I would like some clarification."
The weather had been unseasonably warm, so they'd set up lunch on the back terrace overlooking the garden. As if under his mother's command, the wind didn't dare blow lest it ruffle a napkin without her permission. It was a nice day, but Draco felt cold. He always did when he returned home, so he was grateful they'd taken the meal outside instead of at the formal dining table where he'd watched Nagini devour Charity Burbage nearly nine years ago.
Narcissa lowered her teacup to the table. "I didn't realize you kept company with any Weasleys."
"At least two and a half," he replied.
Ginny's head turned, and he gave her a conspiratorial smile, hoping—well, he wasn't sure what he was hoping for. To put her at ease, maybe. To remind her that he'd spent all of St. Patrick's day with her brother and his fiancee, spent New Year's Eve with them and even more of her family. A reminder that he wasn't entirely like the people sitting across from them. Not anymore.
Lucius grunted, a sound dripping with skepticism or disdain. A dismissive sound. He took his napkin out of his lap and placed it on the table.
"I thought I told you to make better choices about who you… date."
Date wasn't exactly the word he'd used after the Astoria fiasco. Draco supposed he should be grateful his parents were only alluding to their dislike of his guest rather than engaging in outright disrespect.
Before Draco could answer, Ginny said, "Oh, we're not dating." When he glanced at her, she sent a tiny smile his way, but everything about her had transformed. No longer scowling, no longer looking out of place, there was an alertness that gave the impression she was ready for battle. Or perhaps nothing quite so aggressive. She was ready to have fun.
Draco's heart beat faster seeing her like this. Was it possible she didn't hate him after he'd flirted with breaking Holidating Rule #3? After he'd flirted with her?
Narcissa's lips pursed even more, if that was possible. "You're not dating, but you're…."
"Holidating," Ginny supplied. "Platonic plus-ones to holiday events."
"This is nonsense," Lucius growled, but his frustration was subdued, as if he didn't really care enough about any of this to give it his full ire.
Draco traced the handle of his teacup, the only sign of his discomfort that he allowed himself to show. His face remained placid. "I did as you asked."
"How is this doing what I asked?"
"Because I chose someone who isn't after my money and who won't embarrass our family. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"We want you to be serious," Narcissa said when Lucius's only response was to grind his teeth together. "Astoria was—"
Now Draco clenched his teacup in his hand, drew it closer to himself for a calming sip and some warmth. The tea still couldn't eradicate the cold that had seeped inside him upon arriving at the manor. Maybe nothing could except leaving.
"Astoria was a mistake, but I was serious about her. You didn't see her. She was different before Christmas Eve. She was—" Sweet. Caring. Demure but with a surprising sense of humor. Adventurous in bed. Beautiful on top of all that. But all the things about her that had charmed Draco, comforted him, had been a trap. How had she known how to behave to trick him? Had Draco been obvious in his loneliness? Could she smell his solitude like a Niffler sniffing out gold?
He gripped his teacup in both hands. Suffocated it as he took another drink. Yes, more tea would fix this. Somehow.
A touch on his arm made him jump, hot tea spilling out onto his fingers. He hissed and put the cup down, using a cool napkin to wipe up and soothe his burnt skin.
Ginny directed a polite smile at his parents, and he wondered what they saw when they looked at her. He wondered what he would have seen if he had still been like them. If his memories of the war hadn't chased him out of his ancestral home and birthright to a flat in London where he lived by himself with only Pansy's obtrusive presence for company every now and then.
Then Draco looked at his parents closer. At the fine lines around his mother's mouth from pursing her lips together so often. The wrinkles on her forehead that he couldn't remember seeing there on Christmas Eve. The dark circles under his father's eyes and the way he couldn't make eye contact with anyone. Maybe they weren't blithely living in the manor with their demons. Maybe they were just as haunted as he was and too stubborn to leave.
Maybe the thought of spending Easter in the cursed dining room had been too much for them too, and they'd chosen to host lunch outside in the relative sunshine, in the warmth, out in the open. Maybe that choice had been more deliberate than he'd realized.
"—so you see why holidating each other makes sense."
It took Draco a moment to realize he'd just missed Ginny explaining their situation to his parents. But how much had she revealed while he'd been lost in thought?
"Draco, is this true?" Narcissa asked, her lips no longer pursed. A sure sign that she didn't think whatever Ginny had said was nonsense.
"Every word."
Ginny's lips twitched into a smirk that Draco interpreted to mean she knew he hadn't heard any of the words she'd said. At the same time, Lucius grunted, and this time it didn't sound like a dismissal, though Draco couldn't imagine it being a grunt of approval either.
Whatever explanation she'd given, it had ended the argument. Relief flooded his system, almost warming him. Maybe it would be better to quit while they were ahead.
He folded his napkin and placed it next to his barely-touched plate. "I hate to leave before lunch is finished, but I'm afraid we have another engagement we shouldn't be late for."
"Of course," Narcissa said, and it only stung a little bit that she didn't ask for details or implore them to stay.
He kissed his mother on the cheek, shook his father's limp hand, and then he led Ginny through the patio doors back into the manor. Only then did he finally speak directly to her.
"What did you say to them?"
"Only the truth," she said innocently.
"Which is?"
She laughed, and it seemed to echo off the manor walls as they made their way to the front door.
"That holidating is an excuse for you to rebuff unwanted attention from status seekers, and an excuse for me to stick it to Harry for dumping me. The fact that you can get some amusement out of my misery is just a bonus for you, and one I thought your parents would appreciate."
Draco frowned. Her misery didn't amuse him. In fact, it infuriated him. More than he liked to admit even to himself. That was exactly why he had propositioned her the morning after St. Patrick's Day, because she'd mentioned how much she cared about what Potter would think of her spending the night with Draco. The irritation he'd felt toward her because she still cared and toward Potter because he didn't had made Draco lose his mind, and all that desire he'd tried to repress since Valentine's Day—No, since New Year's Eve, if he was being truly honest—had bubbled to the surface, too hot for him to ignore.
There was nothing amusing to him about Ginny throwing her heart at Potter only for him to bat it away over and over again like a Beater deflecting a Bludger. Had she only said that to his parents because she thought they would appreciate the detail, or did she really believe Draco enjoyed her heartbreak?
He tensed, his desire to leave even stronger now. They still had to walk all the way down the drive so they could Apparate outside the gate, but he did not want to be on Malfoy property anymore so the trek sounded unbearably long.
"Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand and rushed her forward, to the grand staircase that would take them to the first floor.
"Where are we going?" she asked halfway up the stairs. She didn't remove her hand from his or slow him down. Bravery or foolishness? Draco thought she showed too much trust by allowing a Malfoy to drag her into the depths of Malfoy Manor.
"There's a Floo connection in my room."
He let go of her when they reached his bedroom door and paused with his hand on the doorknob.
It had been more than three years since he'd moved out of the manor. Stepping into the foyer, walking through the manor to reach the back garden, that had been difficult enough. The rush of memories had hit him harder than he'd expected, so hard he'd forgotten he was an Occlumens who could hide those memories out of his reach. When he'd lived at home, he'd relied on his Occlumency to get through the days, to protect him from the memories that haunted every room of the house. He'd lived in a fog back then, dissociated from his surroundings and unable to form new memories, either. Those years directly after the war were a blur to him.
Since moving out, he had only visited a few times and otherwise hadn't practiced Occlumency, so it was no wonder he hadn't thought to use it when he'd arrived, when the memories had overwhelmed him upon crossing the threshold. The thought of using Occlumency, of blurring his life again, numbing himself to the pain and the memories, made him flinch. He would just have to suffer through instead.
"Draco?" Ginny's voice was soft. Careful. Maybe pitying.
How Draco hated to be pitied.
He opened the door.
The room was not how he'd left it. The day he'd moved out, he'd been so frantic while packing, he hadn't been able to slow down enough to close the drawers or pick up the clothes that had fallen onto the floor. The bed had been made since he left. Every piece of furniture exactly where it belonged. His dresser drawers were closed and the drapes were closed to protect the antique pieces from aging. Everything shut up and put away and tidy. The room was a museum, though what anyone would wish to preserve here was beyond Draco's comprehension.
Ginny came up beside him, her head swinging around to take in the room, passing judgment.
"Wow," she said.
He couldn't tell from her tone whether she'd voiced her approval or disdain.
"Home sweet home," he muttered as he walked toward the gaping fireplace on the right side of the room.
"Do you visit often?"
Her voice sounded far away. Instead of following him, she had gone left, taking a closer look at the dresser, at herself in the mirror above it, at his nightstand next to the bed. What she found so interesting, Draco didn't know. There were no personal affects sitting out anywhere, nothing fascinating in the slightest to look at. That wasn't a product of him leaving. Draco had never been one for sentiment, even when he'd lived here. There was nothing in the room to identify him as the occupant, former or otherwise.
"No," he said simply, his throat tight.
She stopped next to his bed, a huge, ancient four-poster with thick velvet drapes to trap in the heat in the winter and keep out the sunlight in the summer.
"I would kill for a bed like this," she said, her gaze covetous.
Seeing her next to his bed just brought back memories of the last time he'd seen her, when he'd shocked her with his proposition. He vividly remembered her brown eyes growing wide, the cherry red flush in her cheeks, the way she bit her plump lip. As if she was thinking about his words, imagining what might happen if she said yes, right before a look of disgust crossed her face and she moved away from him.
He knew it was wrong, but having her in his room, next to his bed, it sent a pulse of want through him. They could climb into his bed together, and if he closed the curtains around it, they could pretend they weren't in Malfoy Manor at all. They could be in their own dark world where nothing mattered except sinking into her and drawing the best sounds out of her mouth while his heart beat so hard it brought him back to life.
"Take it," he said, his voice hoarse. "I don't want it."
"Yeah, right." She snorted, clearly not believing his offer was sincere. He was never going to sleep in this room again, so what did he care if she took the bed home with her? "This wouldn't even fit in my room." She gestured toward the rest of Draco's room. "Your entire bedroom is probably bigger than my flat."
He looked around, trying to see his room through her eyes, trying to imagine what someone who had grown up in a place like the Burrow would see.
His room was lush and comfortable. Thick rugs and tapestries covered the floors and walls. Thick drapes covered the bed and the windows. All of the furniture was large and imperious. He saw excess. The luxury of space. Meaningless decoration. Though a fire had sprung to life when they'd entered, the room felt cold, devoid of personality. Everything in the room was full of history, but not Draco's history, not his parents' history. The history of some long ago Malfoy who had settled here centuries ago. Someone whose name he could look up in Nature's Nobility but otherwise knew nothing about.
He cleared his throat. "We don't want to keep your family waiting."
"Why not?" she said as she moved past Draco to one of the windows. She peeked through the curtain and a sliver of sunlight pierced the darkness of the room.
Draco said nothing because telling her he couldn't stand to be here any longer seemed like too much to reveal and also not enough. She might want to know more, and Draco didn't know how to explain to her that his family's actions during the war haunted him here. It had been easier to talk to Astoria about it. Maybe she hadn't committed the crimes he had, but she'd been guilty by association because she'd been Sorted into Slytherin and all her friends were guiltier than her. Being able to talk to her about this part of his history had comforted him.
Holidates or not, he knew better than to hope that Ginny Weasley would not only listen to him talk about his past, but that she'd be sympathetic to it, too.
When he didn't answer, she looked at him, her expression torn. "Harry is going to be there."
"What?" The word came out sharper than he intended.
She let go of the drapes, only the light from the fireplace illuminating them once more.
"Harry is going to be at the Burrow with his godson. While we were together, I treated Teddy like he was my godson, too, but I haven't seen him since before the breakup. I miss him, but…."
"But Potter will be there."
She nodded. "I'm excited, but I'm dreading it. I wish I could just get over this already and stop dreading seeing him."
Draco took a couple steps closer to her and swallowed thickly, trying to swallow the words that were inching up his throat. "I moved out of the manor years ago, and I dread it every time I come back. I don't have any suggestions or insight about how to get over that dread. It never gets easier for me. Except…."
She turned away from the window, giving him her full attention.
His brows knit together as he thought about today's luncheon, his parents, the manor. The dread had filled him up just as much as it had before any previous visit, but it hadn't lasted. He'd made it through lunch without using Occlumency. He'd endured the manor without using magic to place his mind in a protective box. He'd thought about it, but he'd refrained, and the memories hadn't consumed him like they normally did.
Maybe Ginny could sense how quietly earth-shattering this revelation was because she didn't prompt him to speak, just waited for him to collect himself with her hands clasped tightly in front of her and an expression of concern on her face.
"Except," he said again, his voice strained with bewilderment. "Except you were here, so I didn't mind as much as I usually do. Being here. Staying as long as we have. I did it because you came with me."
"Is that why you invited me? Because you didn't want to come alone?" Her voice was quiet, understanding.
He shook his head, but not in disagreement. A rueful laugh fell out of his mouth.
"I thought you would say no. I thought, holidates or not, Malfoy Manor was one step too far for you. And if you had said no, I was going to give myself permission to decline my mother's invitation, too."
She laughed but she looked surprised rather than amused. Then she closed the distance between them and took one of Draco's trembling hands in both of hers. Embarrassment that she was seeing him weak and shaky made him snatch his hands away even though her warmth was too good to resist. He missed it as soon as it was gone.
"I admit I thought about turning you down. But I was being selfish, because I didn't want to give my mum ideas, me showing up alone with Harry there. I knew I couldn't bear to see Harry without you with me."
"Even after what I said last time?"
A flush crept up her neck, but she didn't look away. The fact that she knew exactly what he was talking about gave him the impression that she'd thought about what he'd said a lot since that day.
"Yes, even after that. It would have been unfair of me to keep asking you to be my holidate to my family events and not support you at one of yours."
He released a breath, but immediately held it again as she stepped even closer to him.
"I don't know how your visits with your parents normally go, but you did well today, Draco." Her voice was even quieter than before. "And thank you for sticking up for me."
She rocked up onto her tip-toes and tilted her head, but she was still so short Draco had to lean down to hear her whisper. Except she didn't whisper anything at all. Instead, she placed one hand on his cheek, holding his head still, and then kissed his other cheek.
Her hand remained on his face even as she lowered herself, her thumb gently stroking his cheek right at the corner of his mouth. His lips parted slightly, involuntarily.
She removed her hand and smiled. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"
He nodded. It was the only thing he could do.
He led her to the fireplace, removed the bowl of Floo powder from the mantle, offered it to her, but inside he was a wreck, every nerve ending alive with sensation, his brain operating at hyperspeed, his senses in overdrive. He was aware of every move he made, her closeness to him, the heat of the fire soaking down into his skin, his bones.
Since he had not used Occlumency to endure this visit, he was aware of everything. This might be the first new memory, the first good memory, he'd created inside Malfoy Manor since before the war.
After she spun away, as he stepped into the green flames after her and called out the name of her family home, Draco couldn't stop thinking about how he'd never forget today.
Draco didn't know how he'd got himself into this situation.
He pulled his feet up and out of the way as Potter and a child ran through the room, narrowly missing a collision with the overstuffed armchair Draco was sitting in. The boy, diminutive in size as most children were, chased Potter while roaring and exhaling in a poor imitation of a dragon. Draco frowned at their shenanigans and glanced around in search of an Actual Adult, but none were available at present to discipline them as they ought to have been.
Instead, sitting in an identical armchair across from Draco sat another child, even younger and more diminutive than the first but much better behaved. She stared at Draco with large, knowing eyes that made him uncomfortable, and besides the staring, she entertained herself—and prevented herself from speaking, if she was even capable of the skill—by sucking on her thumb.
The volume of roaring increased as Potter and the boy returned for another lap around the overstuffed room. Potter threw a smile at Draco as he passed into the next room, which prompted Draco to scowl. Then the faux-dragon ran in and Draco did a double-take because he sported flaming red hair, which wouldn't have been unusual in the Weasley household except that Draco could have sworn the boy's hair had been mousey brown before. Maybe this was a different child?
The boy stopped in front of Draco's armchair as if he'd suddenly lost interest in chasing Potter, and stalked toward him slowly, arms raised and fingers extended like claws.
"Uh," Draco said as he leaned away, sinking even further into the absurdly comfortable chair. The boy roared as he approached, and Draco was so disturbed, he couldn't even marvel at the fact that the snarling boy's hair was changing color right before his eyes, shifting between unnatural shades of red and orange and yellow. If Draco hadn't been overcome with the desire to hide between the armchair's cushions until the child went away, he would have realized his hair looked like the flames a dragon might breathe out of its mouth.
"Teddy, leave your cousin alone. He doesn't want to play right now," Ginny said from the doorway to the kitchen.
"Cousin?" Draco repeated, inspecting the boy with more scrutiny than before.
Teddy was scrutinizing him right back. "I don't have any cousins," he said with a questioning tilt at the end of his statement.
Ginny kneeled next to the armchair to be eye-level with him. "This is your mum's cousin, Draco Malfoy. He's your gran's sister's son." She turned to look up at Draco in the chair. "Draco, this is Andromeda's grandson, Teddy Lupin."
"Lupin? Is he—?"
"Delightful? Of course he is," Ginny replied with a pointed glare.
"My dad was a werewolf," Teddy said, addressing the hippogriff in the room Ginny had tried so valiantly to avoid, and Draco did another double-take because his hair was no longer flame-hued. He'd transformed himself into a platinum blond.
"And his mother was a shapeshifter," he muttered. He'd never met his cousin Nymphadora, but he'd heard about her plenty after Aunt Bellatrix had found out she'd married a werewolf.
"My godfather says I'm special."
Draco scowled. "Surprised he'll let anyone other than himself be special."
"Hey," the man himself said as he leaned against the doorframe through which he'd run just moments ago. He scowled back at Draco, but Draco wasn't entirely certain of Potter's level of offense.
Ginny's lips trembled with a suppressed grin. "Go on, Teddy. Play with Harry until the eggs are ready." She patted him on the back, urging him toward his godfather whose expression had transformed into a grin. As Potter led the boy out of the room, Ginny turned to the little girl staring unnervingly across from Draco. "Don't you want to play, Victoire?"
The child shook her head, silent except for the sound of her thumb-sucking.
"Would you like to help Gran Gran in the kitchen?"
She nodded, eyes widening in interest.
Ginny stood from her crouch and extended a hand toward Victoire, then glanced down at Draco. "Would you like to join us?"
No, he did not particularly wish to occupy the same space as her mother. But the alternative was to sit in this room by himself and wait for Potter or Draco's newfound cousin to seek him out. Besides, Ginny had braved his parents' company an hour ago, so the least he could do was be brave for her.
He reached toward her, to take her other open hand, and paused when a small, slimy object was placed in his palm. His gaze shifted to the right and down. Victoire smiled up at him with a mouth full of pebble-sized baby teeth. When Draco had stretched his hand out, she'd put hers in it. The hand with the saliva-coated thumb she'd been sucking on.
She giggled. Ginny put her free hand over her mouth and turned away, and Draco, who wanted nothing more than to withdraw his hand and clean it with the embroidered handkerchief in his pocket, closed his fingers around Victoire's and stood up.
Together, the three of them entered the kitchen, both Ginny and Draco clutching one of Victoire's hands. Draco had to stoop to reach her.
Victoire ran up to Molly Weasley, who patted her granddaughter's head. Her smile drooped when she noticed Draco, but she said nothing to him. Instead, she said to Ginny, "Would you mind taking the eggs outside?"
Ginny offered Draco a towel as she went to the icebox. He would have preferred to scrub the saliva off with soap, but Molly was too close to the sink and he didn't wish to make her uncomfortable. Her discomfort would surely lead to discomfort for Draco in the form of scowls and glares and pointed comments about his background and upbringing. He settled for the towel instead.
Ginny pulled a basket of eggs out of the icebox and nodded her head toward the back door, gesturing for him to follow her outside.
At Malfoy Manor, the wind had not dared to blow and ruin Narcissa Malfoy's luncheon, but here at the Burrow, a gentle breeze ruffled Draco's hair. A strip of bare skin at Ginny's lower back kept teasing him as the wind lifted the hem of her oversized jumper. His mind was filled with the question of how soft that strip of skin would feel under his fingertips. He swallowed thickly and looked away, clenching his hands against his ridiculous thoughts.
Not far from the kitchen door, a table covered in cloth sat in the sunshine, mismatched chairs surrounding it. Two baskets with handles sat on top of the table, filled with paper confetti that flowed over their sides. Bowls of different colored liquids were spread around the table as well, with spoons sticking out of each one.
Ginny set the basket of eggs in the center of the table and sat down. She patted the chair next to her, and Draco sat as well. He kept his expression bland so as not to let on that he had no idea what was about to happen. He wracked his brain but the only thing he could come up with was that the Weasleys' traditionally ate an Easter lunch of eggs with various color-dyed soups. Bizarre. Disgusting. It was hard to reserve judgment, but after not touching much of his first lunch at Malfoy Manor, he was starving and eggs alone were an extremely unappealing Easter meal.
When Molly came outside with a platter of sandwiches, Draco released a sigh of relief. Potter and the children followed her, the children laughing and running toward the table in excitement.
"I want to sit next to my cousin!" Teddy yelled at the top of his lungs and then threw himself into the chair beside Draco before someone else could take it. He smiled tentatively at Draco, as if suddenly struck shy. His hair was still platinum blond. The color combined with their genetic similarities—even subtle similarities; they were merely first cousins once removed after all—unnerved Draco. Like looking at an image of his younger, more carefree self. Or seeing a vision of his future offspring.
"Hello," Draco said stiffly.
Teddy leaned toward him and crooked a finger. Draco leaned over.
"Will you help me with my eggs?" he whispered.
Draco sat back up. "Er…. Sure?"
The kid pumped his fist like he'd just won the lottery. Draco wasn't sure what he'd agreed to.
When he turned away from Teddy, he found a plate in front of him with a small stack of various sandwich corners, including a cucumber sandwich like the ones they'd eaten on New Year's Eve.
Ginny already had a mouthful of sandwich when he leaned toward her and asked, "What are the eggs for?"
She chewed and swallowed. "It's a Muggle Easter activity. We dye hard-boiled eggs with the kids every year. And then when we're done, we do an Easter egg hunt in the orchard. Dad and Fleur are out hiding the eggs now."
Draco stared, waiting for further explanation, or for her to reveal she'd been joking. When nothing further was forthcoming, he asked, "...Why?"
"Well," she said with a rueful shake of her head. "My dad forgets that Victoire is three feet tall, so Fleur went with him to make sure he hides some eggs on the ground for her to find."
"No," Draco corrected her, now mystified that she'd misunderstood his confusion, "I meant why do you dye and hunt eggs? What's the significance?"
Ginny laughed. "I really don't know! Hermione told us about the traditions when Teddy was Victoire's age. We've been doing it ever since."
The absurdity of their tradition didn't seem to bother her, and Draco tried not to let it bother him, but it was difficult to fathom. He ate sandwiches to distract himself, until Arthur Weasley and Fleur Delacour—er, Fleur Weasley—appeared from around the corner of the house. Fleur took a wiggling Victoire from Molly and sat down with her between Arthur and Potter, across from Ginny and Draco.
"Is it time to hunt for eggs now?" Teddy asked. He had climbed up onto his knees in his chair and he was bouncing in anticipation.
"Not yet, Teddy," Potter said calmly. "You don't want to hunt eggs without Victoire, do you?"
"She's just a baby. She can't even climb trees!"
Potter shook his head. "Eggs first. Have a sandwich."
Teddy deflated but he scarfed down a sandwich corner without further complaint. Once a small bowl of hard-boiled eggs were set in front of him, his mood perked up a bit as if he'd forgotten that he hadn't wanted to participate in this activity two sandwiches ago.
Draco watched how the family worked together to pass the platter of sandwiches, eggs, the bowls of what Draco assumed were the dye they would use on the eggs, all the while keeping up a constant stream of chatter. They didn't include Draco, but he wasn't sure why they would and he was glad they didn't. The dynamic between all of them, the adults and the children, was a bit overwhelming and the complete opposite of meals at Malfoy Manor. Louder, more laughter, people talking over one another, children screeching to be heard.
He was also glad no one expected him to compete with everyone else for space to speak. He had a moment to think without having to participate in idle conversation or defend himself against verbal attacks, deserved or otherwise.
A cousin. He had a cousin. Honestly, as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, most of Draco's former Housemates were related to him in some way. Even he and Ginny were related via a distant cousin of some sort. But Teddy wasn't a distant anything. The blood that ran through his veins was the same blood that ran through his mother's veins, his Aunt Bellatrix's. Maybe a bit tainted by his werewolf and Metamorphmagus lineage, but he was as much a part of the Black family as any future child of Draco's would be.
He considered Teddy and his shining platinum hair as he blithely ate sandwiches and chattered at Potter and Draco. It was hard to imagine Draco's future when he could barely escape his past. Teddy was an orphan, but he still had a family who cared for him and loved him and had formed him into a happy child. Maybe… maybe one day in the future… maybe Draco would have a family of his own. Maybe he'd never live in Malfoy Manor again, and his children could grow in the sunlight of some modest house somewhere in the country instead of shrivel in the darkness of a haunted manor.
Draco didn't know how to even begin to shake his demons. Perhaps moving out of the manor had been the first step. But as he sat there in the Weasleys' back garden and absorbed their pleasant chatter, as he felt the warmth of the sun against his face and the heat of Ginny's body in the chair next to him, he thought a simple life, a quiet life like this one, couldn't be so bad.
Teddy laughed, his mouth full of barely chewed food, and Potter gently scolded him to swallow before speaking so he wouldn't choke. Draco couldn't picture a future where he had a happy family, but watching Teddy filled Draco with the hope that maybe it could be possible. One day.
Ginny must have finally noticed his silence because she turned toward him and said in a low voice meant just for him, "Alright? Is this okay?"
He nodded. He couldn't say he was entirely comfortable in an environment so different from his own home life, but he was more comfortable than he would have been at Malfoy Manor. And there was something nice about seeing a family like this in their natural habitat.
Their burrow, if you will.
His lips twitched at his own quip.
"What?" Ginny prompted, her mouth spreading into a smile.
"Nothing. Private joke."
"What, don't care to share?" Potter said, his expression insincerely pleasant, surely.
Draco had spent most of the meal observing Potter with Teddy, but he didn't much appreciate Potter observing him with Ginny. "You wouldn't think it's funny."
"Bet not," Potter said.
Ginny scowled, but Draco was saved from answering when Teddy tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "Can you help me with my eggs now?"
Potter was halfway out of his seat reaching for the bowl of eggs. "I can help you, Ted."
"Nooooo," his godson whinged. "Harry, I've had a godfather my whole life, but I've never had a cousin before!"
Potter sat back down. Draco was certain he would be furious about Teddy choosing Draco over him, but his expression merely softened. "Sure thing, kid."
He didn't let it show, but Potter's acquiescence rocked Draco. It was obvious how close Teddy and Potter were, almost like father and son, so it surprised Draco that Potter didn't feel the need to protect Teddy from Draco, as if his very presence could corrupt a child. If Potter didn't feel that way, why had Draco thought it?
Ginny moved her chair to the end of the table to help them both with the egg-dyeing process. It seemed simple enough—just submerge the eggs in the dye for a few minutes and then remove them. They also used waxy drawing implements to write and draw on the eggs before dyeing them. After a few minutes, they removed their first batch of eggs from the bowls and both Draco and Teddy released an involuntary Oooooh as the eggs came out brightly colored rather than white. Teddy giggled and shoved an egg in Draco's face to show him how his name was emblazoned across a royal blue egg, the letters still white because the wax from the drawing implement had protected the shell from the dye. There was no magic involved, no science that Draco could discern, but seeing the product of their work, their creativity, was satisfying in unexpected ways. He didn't even mind when the dye stained his fingers after touching the wet eggs.
After three batches, Teddy got bored and ran off to the orchard with Potter, Fleur, and Victoire to hunt for Easter eggs, a basket swinging from his arm.
Ginny shot a blast of gentle air at the eggs with her wand to help them dry faster. "Don't worry," she said, even though Draco hadn't been worrying about anything in particular, "the eggs they're hunting are dried out shells stuffed with confetti. When they return, we'll be subjected to an all-out egg war. Mum left some confetti eggs aside so we can fairly fight back."
"Do the victors get a prize?"
"Not just the victors. Everyone gets a coveted chocolate egg."
Draco placed the dry eggs back in the basket along with the eggs Victoire had dyed with extensive help from her mother and grandparents. "So you get a chocolate egg, too?"
She nudged him with her shoulder. "Why? So you can convince me to give it to you like on Valentine's Day?"
"There was no giving involved. I paid a fair price for that chocolate, remember?"
"I hope you enjoyed it."
"Don't worry, I savored it thoroughly." He smirked a moment later as that flush he had come to expect radiated across her face.
"Oh, did you?" she asked breathlessly. Her gaze never wandered from the eggs she was drying.
Draco wondered what she was thinking. Clearly her mind had drifted in a certain direction, the same direction down which his mind had drifted when his reply fell out of his mouth, but he wondered how specific her thoughts were. His were pretty specific.
Since Valentine's Day, he hadn't stopped thinking about spending his favorite kind of evening with her, in his study in front of the fire. Books and chocolate. He'd gotten a tiny taste of his fantasy the morning after St. Patrick's Day when they'd woken up half-naked together. Put a book in her hands, lay her out on the loveseat, and ask her to read aloud while he licked drizzled chocolate off her body—well. Draco shifted in his chair to relieve some tension and only succeeded in grinding himself against the fly of his trousers. He coughed to hide a groan and tried to bring his mind back to reality. They were at her childhood home. Her parents were at the end of the table cleaning up the mess from a toddler dyeing Easter eggs. And Ginny was sitting right next to him—her thoughts ambling in similar circles, judging by the color of her ears. This was no time to indulge in his fantasies.
"Actually," he said, his voice deeper than intended. He cleared his throat. "Actually, I gave most of the chocolate to Pansy."
"Oh?" she said again, her head tilted as if extremely interested though she still could not meet his gaze.
That was okay, though. That meant he could look at the lovely curve of her jaw without her noticing.
"We had an argument a few days before Valentine's Day, and she didn't immediately forgive me. So I gave her your chocolate in apology."
Ginny smiled and finally looked at him. "I guess she forgave you, then. She seemed fine on St. Patrick's Day."
Draco nodded. "The magic of chocolate."
"The magic of chocolate," she repeated quietly, as if she was just now starting to appreciate chocolate's merits. Draco wished he appreciated them a little less right now.
They finished drying the eggs and putting them in the basket and then returned them to the kitchen. Arthur and Molly were both at the sink washing dishes, but they paused as Draco and Ginny entered.
"You were very patient with Teddy today," Molly said to Draco with an air of accusation. She dried a plate with a towel, vigorously enough that he wondered whether she wished she was pulverizing his head instead.
"Is there a question hidden in that statement?" he asked, less defensively and more in confusion.
Molly glared. "Have you never wanted to meet him?"
Draco bristled, but Ginny said, "Mum, you're acting like Teddy is his rather than his cousin's son."
The idea of having a son was surprisingly thrilling and unsurprisingly unnerving. He added, "Honestly, I forgot he existed. I heard about his birth from my Aunt Bellatrix. She wasn't very happy about it. After you killed her, no one ever mentioned him to me again."
Molly continued to glare and scrub scrub scrub the plate in her hand. Ginny sighed in exasperation.
He wondered if she'd imagined some kind of censure in his statement. After you killed her…. He hadn't meant to sound accusatory. Until he'd said it, he'd actually forgotten that Molly Weasley had been his aunt's downfall at the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe his younger self, newly acquitted of his crimes, would have felt some sort of resentment toward Molly for getting the best of one of his family members. But that kind of emotion was behind him. He'd left it in Malfoy Manor when he moved out on his own. And Aunt Bellatrix had been a terror, not just terrorizing her enemies, but also terrorizing her family. Draco had not rested easy the entire time she'd lived at the manor with them. He didn't miss her, and he couldn't blame Molly for killing her in defense of her child. Hadn't his own mother betrayed Voldemort for his sake?
With a start, it connected in his head and he remembered that Aunt Bellatrix had been dueling Ginny before Molly stepped in. He hadn't witnessed the duel himself, but he'd of course read all about it in the papers after the battle. He glanced at Ginny while she telepathically dueled her mother via their eyeballs, and the thought of her dying at the end of his aunt's wand felt unbearable. His heart contracted in his chest, shrivelling at the image in his head.
Their families were night and day compared to each other, but their mothers had something in common, at least. They would do anything for their children, anything for their families. He realized that was what this interrogation was about. Teddy's family. Teddy's lack of one.
He opened his mouth, words spilling out before he had a chance to think about them.
"My family is not the same as yours, Mrs. Weasley. The few times I've enjoyed your family's company, it's been abundantly obvious how different my childhood was from Ginny's. I used to think mine was superior until I realized everything I valued about my family was superficial and even wrong. I don't know what it's like to have a family beyond my parents. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. Siblings. They're all foreign to me. Even if you let me have a relationship with him, I don't know how to be a cousin to Teddy or anyone. I hope you won't hold my ignorance against me."
Ginny was looking at him now with her mouth hanging open slightly in shock and her eyebrows nearly to her hairline.
By the time he turned to Molly, she had softened, her glare melting into an expression Draco refused to examine closely lest he discover pity. Arthur turned off the tap and set the wet bowl he'd just washed on the counter before taking the towel from Molly to dry his hands.
"We won't hold your family against you, son," he said. "Right, Molly?" He nudged her a little with his elbow, which dug into her shoulder because of the difference in their heights. Draco and Ginny might have the same height difference, and the thought of elbowing her in the shoulder because of her petite stature made him feel warm for some reason.
Molly's jaw tightened for a moment. "Of course we won't. Anymore," she conceded. "It's not up to me whether you get to see Teddy anyhow. It's up to Andromeda and Harry." She pressed her lips together, appraising Draco from head to toe as her mouth twitched with words perhaps she shouldn't say. Until she finally made up her mind to say them. "Regardless of their decision,"—what Draco heard was, Regardless if they find you worthy of Teddy—"I still don't agree with this arrangement you two have."
Ginny's voice came out steely as she said, "Harry and I are not getting back together."
Molly merely waved her hand as if this was a minor issue. "Fine. Not Harry, then. How will you find someone else if you're spending all your time on a relationship that isn't going anywhere, with a person you have no future with?"
Draco stiffened even though she was right. He and Ginny? They didn't have a future together. There might be an attraction between them, but there could never be love. Even if love was possible, they were too different, their pasts were too fraught for a relationship to ever work between them long term. It shouldn't have stung as much as it did to hear the truth, but there was a tiny part of him that rebelled against it and wished to prove Molly and himself wrong.
"I don't need to find someone else. I'm only twenty-four. I spent the last seven years of my life waiting for marriage to a man who never proposed, so we could have children together that I am never going to have. I don't want to jump into another relationship right now. Can't I just be by myself for once in my adult life? Just Ginny alone, having fun?"
The sound of a latch catching interrupted the conversation, and everyone's heads turned toward Potter standing with his back to the door that led out into the garden. He looked sheepish and red, telling Draco that he'd been listening in until the door slipped shut.
"Er, they've finished hunting eggs. Teddy's ready for the war."
"Eggs-ellent," Ginny grumbled. "Come on, Draco!" She grabbed a basket of white eggs with a bit of colored paper wrapped around their ends from the kitchen table and shoved past Potter and through the door.
Potter stepped aside when Draco approached, but he eyed Draco strangely until he passed and then followed him out.
Ginny's demeanor changed immediately upon seeing the children, the tension dropping and a smile forming. Teddy jumped up and down in excitement, urging her to hurry, and Victoire copied him.
Fleur was sitting at the egg-dyeing table with her arms crossed. She pointed at Potter with a glare and said, "Do not hurt my Victoire. You were too rough last year and ruined her Easter dress robes."
"Yes, Fleur," Potter replied with a smile. He looked at Draco again. "Are you playing?"
"Of course he's playing!" Ginny snapped over her shoulder.
Draco and Potter came up beside her, and Teddy immediately began to whinge. "That's no fair! You can't have three people on your team! Victoire is just a baby!"
"Yeah!" Victoire screamed with enthusiasm.
"Can Draco be on my team? Can he please? Oh, can he?"
A small part of Draco's shriveled heart warmed. Teddy didn't know him and still wanted Draco to be on his side. Perhaps that's why Teddy seemed taken with him. If he had known Draco well enough, he surely wouldn't like him as much as he did now.
"I need Draco on my team. You can have Harry," Ginny said.
Teddy seemed to be an amenable child because he didn't pitch a fit at not getting what he wanted and seemed just as content with Harry as he would have been with Draco. What a fickle fiend.
As they lined up in front of each other, Draco and Ginny versus Teddy, Potter, and Victoire, Draco realized what Ginny had done. She'd given both of them an opportunity to pummel Potter with confetti eggs, so she could work out her frustration with him and take advantage of Draco's dislike.
He smiled at Potter, and Potter scowled back. He didn't need to be a Seer to sense what was about to happen.
Ginny offered the basket of eggs to Draco, and he stuffed as many as he could in his pockets without crushing them.
"Remember the rules," Potter said. "Don't throw any eggs at anyone's heads. That means you, Victoire."
Victoire giggled and prematurely launched one egg toward the ground. It bounced at Draco's feet without cracking, but he just returned it to the basket hanging on her arm. She clapped in amusement.
"Backs turned!" Ginny called. Everyone spun around.
"Ten paces!" said Potter.
Draco and Ginny took ten steps away from their starting point.
"FIRE!" Teddy yelled, and then all hell broke loose.
The Confetti Egg War of 2006 left devastation in its wake. The back garden was dusted with more confetti than Draco had ever seen in his life, tiny flakes of tissue paper coating the ground like snow… or sprinkles on top of a fairy cake. Hmm. Nothing like a good fight to stoke Draco's hunger for baked goods.
By the time the infantry piled into the Burrow's kitchen, they were flushed and tired, especially the two little ones who were immediately ushered into the living room with Potter and Fleur to be put down for a post-war nap in a comfortable chair.
Draco nearly ran Ginny over as she turned abruptly. "Tell me honestly," she said. "My hair is a disaster, isn't it?"
She had forgone her usual ponytail today—maybe for his parents' benefit, he wasn't sure—so her hair cascaded around her face in an unruly mass, tousled by the exertion of her running and the wind. Confetti dotted her hair like the freckles that dotted her skin. It should have looked a mess, but Draco couldn't help but be enchanted. He reached toward her shoulder to pull out a large piece of eggshell that must have got trapped in her hair when it exploded. He lifted it in the air for her inspection.
"I knew it," she sighed.
"I don't think you look like a disaster."
She had been irritated when the war had started, but after pelting Potter with a few eggs and getting pelted with them by Teddy and Victoire in return, the anger had ebbed out of her, leaving behind the thrill of the fight. Confettied hair aside, her eyes were bright from the battle, her cheeks flushed with color, and she couldn't control the smile on her face. She looked how Draco felt on the inside, if only he'd let himself wear his emotions on his sleeve like she did.
Her grin was cheeky. Maybe even flirtatious? "What do I look like, then?"
Delighted, pleasantly worn out, a little wild from the adrenaline of dodging eggs and launching them back.
Draco didn't say those things though. Instead a word slipped out before he had a chance to censor himself—
"Trouble."
Instead of teasing him, instead of taking offense, she asked in a low voice, "What does trouble look like?"
Draco finally noticed how close they were to each other and how vast their height difference was. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, and Draco was tempted, so tempted, by the urge to back her up until she met the counter and taste that carefree smile.
But he remembered the look of disgust on her face after he offered to break Holidating Rule #3 with her, so he swallowed his sharp breaths and smothered his racing heart with his palm so she wouldn't hear its frantic beating.
"Trouble looks like a Bludger let loose on a Quidditch pitch," he said. "Batted around the sky, but never broken by the beating, never slowing down. No matter how hard the blow, it continues flying, and any player who comes into contact with it never forgets the experience."
He couldn't kiss her, but he lifted his hand, unable to stop himself. Ginny sucked in a breath as he reached into the mass of hair next to her neck….
And then she huffed out a laugh as he withdrew an entire confetti egg, a little cracked but intact.
Arthur clearing his throat in the doorway made them jump apart, and Draco accidentally crushed the egg in his grip, confetti exploding all over the kitchen. He and Ginny looked at each other, identical expressions of shock drawn on their faces before they burst into laughter. After they cleaned up the mess, Draco prepared to leave, but not before Molly loaded up his arms with a pile of colorfully decorated hard-boiled eggs.
The greatest prize was the large chocolate egg she'd charitably tucked under his chin before he and Ginny departed.