Hullo lovelies!
Four chapters in four(ish) days. I don't know how I've done this. I will say that this chapter was 95% complete before today, and I just had a few things to add before I edited it. It is also the LONGEST chapter in this story thus far. Good grief. 23 pages.
REGARDLESS, I am ECSTATIC for you all to read this chapter. I've been looking forward to posting it!
Please, please leave a review and let me know what you think x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
For AEdmo13, I know you've also been looking forward to this chapter x
Saturday, March 27th, 1999
Lupin Den
James Potter's birthday
Despite his encroaching examinations, Ron opted to cease his revision for Potions around three in the afternoon. Today was the day Sirius and Remus were going to take him on a stroll through their memories.
Ron had been studying nonstop for weeks, and he was in great need of a break. He often spent evenings with Padma in the library revising. Hermione would be proud.
Ron's mind meandered to his conversation with Harry before he left, and he sighed deeply.
Harry's unwillingness to view any of their memories was because the last trip he'd taken into a pensieve had been rather tumultuous. He simply wasn't ready.
"Are you sure you're okay with me seeing all of this before you? It's your family…"
Harry's frame stiffened at the word 'family', as if unsure how to react to it.
He's probably thinking about Draco, Ron mused.
"Of course I am, Ron. Plus, don't forget you're family too," Harry smiled softly, but worry tugged the corners of his eyes downward.
Ron drew Harry into a tight embrace, rubbing soothing circles across his back. "It'll be okay, mate. Don't worry."
Harry hadn't looked convinced by the time Ron left, but, he added, "you can talk about what you learn when you get back…if you want that is." It was progress, and for now, that was enough for Ron.
Ron arrived at Lupin Den with a loud crack. It was a bit muddy, and his boots sank into the earth. The trees around the house swayed in the wind. Ron approached the structure and found the door wide open; soft laughter drew him inside.
Remus and Sirius were in the quaint living room, both on the floor in front of a large, ornate chest, rifling through photographs. (The pair were alone. Tonks and Teddy had gone to stay at Andromeda's for the evening in order to give the three wizards privacy.)
The racket caused by his apparition and his footsteps had alerted the two of his presence, and their heads were already languidly turned towards him. Their heightened senses made it practically impossible to sneak up on the two men. Jubilant smiles bloomed on the pair's faces. Ron noted that their wands were in hand, and they stashed them away in the following moments.
"Ronald! Just in time!" Sirius exclaimed, beckoning the boy over with one hand, a handful of pictures gripped in the other.
Sirius and Remus scooted to either side, and Remus patted the floor between them; wordlessly inviting him to join them.
There was just enough room for Ron to squeeze in between them. Sirius immediately handed him the thick stack of photographs in his hand.
"You all look so happy," Ron commented. He tenderly held the stack with both hands. He leisurely flipped through them, tucking a photo at the bottom of the stack once he was finished with it. He savoured each moving image, trying to engrave it into his memory.
Some of them were glossy, others matte, some black and white, some with soft, muted hues, and the others bright and full of colour.
"Quite a few of these are from times when James stole my camera and went on a bit of a rampage." Remus chuckled to himself.
Remus and Sirius added a bit of commentary as Ron perused each photograph.
"Who's this?" Ron asked as he came across a picture of Hermione and a mocha skinned female sitting underneath a tree by the Black Lake.
Hermione was hugging the girl from behind, head craned around the girl's wild curls. It was light outside, the tree branches swayed in the breeze. Hermione whispered something in the girl's ear and she erupted into laughter.
"That's Kira. She was one of our good friends growing up. In the middle of the first war, she and another one of our good friends—Nancy—moved to North America." Remus exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes leaking sorrow.
"Nancy's younger brother and Mother died in a freak accident. Her Father passed away when she was young, six or seven I think. Kira decided it was best to leave and get a fresh start." Sirius jumped in, expounding on Remus's prior statement. "We haven't heard from them since."
After taking one last look at the picture, Ron moved onto the next one; he was unsure what to say so he chose to remain silent. A heaviness clung to the air.
They went through a lot of terrible things, Ron thought as he got lost in the subsequent pictures.
Hermione, Lily, a blonde (who he later found out was Marlene), and a turquoise haired girl with a devious smirk were all hugging and laughing at something Hermione said. Marlene was between Lily and Hermione, and she reached over to playfully flick Hermione's nose. Hermione made a show of being 'upset'.
There was something wild and free in Hermione's eyes that hadn't lived there when Ron last saw her; it bordered on feral in several of the captured moments.
In another, Hermione and Lily had climbed a tree, and the girls were straddling one of the branches, wearing hot pants and loose flowy tops. Lily successfully and carefully French braided Hermione's silky, crazy, raven curls.
The first time Ron had witnessed Hermione's new appearance, he had been speechless for several minutes; it was a cold, bizarre shock to his system. It was still jarring. Hermione's kind, warm brown eyes and honeyed brown hair echoed in his mind.
"Hermione would always remind Lily it was best to braid her hair when it was wet, but Lily did as she pleased. Hermione let her." Sirius chuckled to himself, eyes glazed over, his mind in the distant, lush land of memory. "Plus, Lilypad loved a challenge."
"For all her snarky comments, Marlene actually quite liked you, didn't she?" Remus hummed, pointing at the next picture. Mary had a platter of fresh baked blueberry scones. Her hair was loosely braided into two. Glee forced a rosy glow onto her cheeks. Sirius and Marlene darted into frame, each nicked a piping hot scone—the pastry danced from one hand to the next—and then strode away with big grins on their faces. Mary's jaw dropped in surprise.
There were so many moments, all frozen in place. Frank and Alice squished into an armchair, limbs entangled as they slept. Peter shakily putting one foot in front of the other—towards the camera—a tray of hot chocolate in hand. Draco carrying James princess style, and Sirius sprinting towards them; Hermione in the distance, mouth open as she yelled a warning to the Potter boys.
The trio reached the end of the pile.
"Okay, that's enough of that. We promised a pensieve trip, so we ought to get our arses in gear." Sirius cleared his throat, accepting the photographs from Ron and delicately placing them back in the chest on top of some parchment. It was a wild assortment of things inside, and Ron didn't get a good look at any of it before Sirius shut the lid with a solid thud.
(Eventually the two men would unpack their chests, but unknowingly, they were waiting for Hermione and Draco's return to do so. Without them there it felt strangely wrong.)
There hadn't been an appropriate moment before, but Ron cleared his throat and said, "it's James's birthday today, right? I'm sorry that I chose today—"
"Not another word, mate. It's good we're doing this today. In a way it's like we're celebrating," Sirius interjected.
Remus had gone off to the other room, and returned with the pensieve floating about five feet in the air behind him. The pair informed him that they had borrowed the Potter family's pensieve with the blessing of Mipsy.
"The memories are already inside, I'm not an expert on using one, so I'm not sure what order they're all in. Traditionally you go memory-by-memory, leave the pensieve and go back in…however, we'll be immersed for some time." Remus tried to explain, scratching his head.
The pensieve swung around in front of the man, growing larger in size as Remus waved his wand. It was a thin, shallow stone bowl. The liquid inside was close to the rim, but it was still, creating a dark, smooth surface; every few moments flashes of silvery white wisps swam in its depths.
"After you," Sirius said, entranced as he stared at the hovering bowl. He settled in beside Remus, placing a hand on his Alpha's shoulder as if to anchor him to this world. He appeared as if a slight gust would sweep him off his feet and plunge him into the pensieve; never to return.
Simultaneously, the three wizards breathed in and out, their shoulders rising and falling in unison as they prepared themselves.
Another deep breath, and the trio made brief eye contact. A curt nod. In unison, they plunged their heads into the pensieve; transported to the worlds held within its depths.
They emerged into an endless land of muted grey with cool, knee-high mist surrounding them as far as Ron could see.
A dark drop of watery liquid came from above. Ron looked upwards but was met with a matte black even surface in the distance; he could not tell how high it was.
The drop burst as it hit the mist; contaminating everything it touched, staining it midnight blue.
A blinding light flashed and they were on the Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts.
The Spring sun shone sharply, the crispness of the air tingled across his skin; Ron had to remind himself that this was a memory. The lingering sensations were from the owner of the memory, and some of those sensations were more acute than others.
"Potter!" The collective deafening chant boomed from the stands. The force of it startled Ron.
Straight ahead—in full Quidditch gear—a young Draco had been hoisted on the shoulders of a tall redhead. The boy's face was alight with triumph, and his hands were raised to the sky, the golden glinting Snitch held preciously and for all to see. Sirius was right beside them, holding onto Draco's left leg, yelling boisterously.
The rest of the Quidditch team soared onto the Pitch around Ron, jumping off their brooms, dropping them where they landed and sprinting over to the trio.
A girl with long, raven hair that had been pulled back into a high ponytail leapt onto another's back. James and Hermione. James bounded in circles around the herd of lions that had gathered.
Sirius liked to mention over the past few months that Hermione and himself had made quite the Beater duo. Harry and Ron were gobsmacked that the girl had not only touched a broom, she'd bloody joined the Quidditch team. It was a cold shock to the system to see her in full Quidditch kit.
There were so many unfamiliar faces. However, Ron's gaze settled on one.
"Is that…?" Ron asked, unable to say the name aloud. In the sea of strangers, he stood out. The boy with the rust coloured hair that glittered with copper strands, who had an easy smile and bright blue eyes.
"Gideon Prewett? Yes." Remus answered.
Ron marvelled at the wizard, and shakily put one foot in front of the other until he was inches away. Ron reached out to touch him, but the scene dulled, the figures wobbled, and blew away like smoke.
Ron blinked and they were in a winter tundra. Snow covered all the nearby trees, and the light grey of the sky melted into the stark whiteness of the unsullied snow before him.
Ron shivered, and the frigid air nibbled at his nose. Yet, he was also warm. Gay laughter affronted him from behind. Ron turned to look at the source, and he was struck by the innocence of the scene that greeted him.
The elder Sirius and Remus had already wandered over to the two figures, kneeling closeby, smiling sadly.
Draco and Peter Pettigrew were exuberantly tossing snow at each other, and in between them, were three misshapen, hard-packed, large balls of snow sitting one on top of the other. They were building a snowman. A warm feeling tingled across Ron's arm as something effervescent streamed past him.
The memory of Remus Lupin stumbling across his two friends early on a snowy morning fully formed just past Ron. Ron followed the boy as he trekked through the deep snow; for Ron it wasn't as bad due to his height. It was strange how real this all felt.
"Why are you both out here?" The young Remus asked, his voice a bit high-pitched, but gruff around the edges. He was so small, his head didn't reach Ron's chest. Considering Remus was almost as tall as Ron, it was disconcerting seeing the younger, miniature version of him. It shouldn't have been, but for some reason it was.
"What does it look like? We're building a snow knight." Draco snorted, brushing some of the white powder from his raven hair. A languid smile was on the boy's face, and no malice was held behind his snarky comment.
"Looks more like a lumpy pile of snow, but I think I see what you're going for," Remus teased.
"Oi, Lupin! That's no way to talk to your elder!" Draco laughed, dashing through the snow towards his friend. Remus's eyes widened and with a crooked smile, he jogged backwards, twisting nimbly—sending snow flying—and sprinted into the wide expanse of white.
"Elder? Big talk for someone who's only a few months older!" Remus called over his shoulder, cackling as Draco chased after him.
Peter sighed, shaking his head in amusement, and happily went about patting more snow onto his creation with Draco.
"How old were you here?" Ron asked aloud, gazing down at the innocent boy who would be contorted into someone unrecognisable by darkness.
"This was in our second year. Hermione and Draco grew very defensive of Peter in those days, they hated to see him unfaired by the older years," Remus answered, emotion thick in his throat.
Sirius crept closer to the boy. A chilling sense of emptiness clung to him as he crouched besides the memory of Peter Pettigrew. Sirius held out a hand, but halted sharply, drawing his limb back to his chest, and clutching it tightly with a grimace on his face.
Peter's cavalier humming echoed in Ron's head. He blinked thrice, and the scene fled as quickly as the prior one, only to be hastily replaced with another. As if a play was being performed, and the actors were hurriedly switching the sets as fast as they could.
A tall, broad tree with branches that kissed the sky from this angle. The unique taste of summer in the air, the scent of peaches and sunlight. Three boys dozing off at the base of the tree, leaning on each other, their bookbags and outer robes scattered lopsidedly a few feet away. Remus, Draco, Peter. They didn't look much older than the last memory.
From the sky, a tornado came, sucking up the wisps of memory, and the land of muted greys was back for a breath. The tornado spun out another memory just as swiftly, and an unmistakable smell assaulted his nostrils. Parchment, the musk of old textbooks. The soft sunlight came in from the vast windows on the left side of the classroom, the dust particles dancing in the light.
The scratching of quills, a stern female voice, the giggling of youth.
Ron Weasley found himself amongst the desks of the Transfiguration classroom. Sirius and Remus were at the front of the room, both sitting on McGonagall's desk, smirking as they peered at something behind Ron.
"Fourth year. Transfiguration class. This one was just to show how silly Sirius could be at times," Remus smirked, ruffling his best mate's hair. Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"We were supposed to be showing him memories of Draco."
"I understood the assignment, Pads. This one still qualifies," Remus pointed out, he gestured lazily to the scene behind Ron.
"Don't be daft you idiot, she will surely give you at least a week's detention," A voice scolded. Ron now immediately recognised it as Draco's.
"I fancied myself McGonagall's shining black knight," Sirius chuckled, hands interlaced behind his head as he observed a younger him spring out of his seat, wand in hand as he strutted through the aisles.
The boy was solely focused on McGonagall who was standing in between the front two tables. She softly instructed a girl at one of them on the correct technique. A moment later, a flower sprang from the end of the girl's wand and she grinned in delight. It was a daisy in full bloom.
The girl diligently worked on summoning a variety of flora, her short strawberry blonde hair bouncing about as she did. The mocha skinned girl beside her was still struggling a bit, and she leaned over to ask her friend a few questions. She succeeded with a radiant grin that showcased all her teeth several tries later.
"Minnie!" Memory Sirius called, stealing the show.
"Mister Black," Minerva drawled in her thick Scottish brogue, irritation clear on her brow as she straightened out. Her hat was resting on her desk's surface, and her outer black robes were hung on the back of her chair.
The witch's dress was crushed emerald velvet. The bodice was fitted, and the A-line skirt fell loosely from her hips, swishing around her ankles as she moved. The long sleeves cinched in at the wrist, but the cuffs were ruffled ever so slightly. She wore a black silk glove that covered her thumb, index and middle finger on her left hand.
Sirius held his wand delicately in his hand, the tip pointing towards his Professor. The woman didn't seem the least perturbed by that fact—rather she appeared rather indifferent—as if this was a regular occurrence. She folded her hands behind her back, glaring down at him through narrow slits. A shiver ran down Ron's spine.
"Why didn't you stop him?" A small voice asked in abundant frustration. Ron knew that voice as well as he knew the back of his hand.
"You know Pads. He always does whatever he wants," Draco defended.
"You're supposed to help curb those impulses. Remember?"
"I'm not his keeper."
"Wrong. He's family, so we have to make sure to save him from himself. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Fair point. However, he is a big boy now. He can make his own decisions."
"You're ridiculous."
"You love me anyway." Draco said off-handedly, as if the statement held no real weight.
Hermione's reply took a few moments, but her words were sturdily crafted. "Not the point, prat."
Ron peered over his shoulder, looking away from Sirius presenting McGonagall with a bouquet of a dozen white roses that had just sprouted from his wand's tip. Minerva was giving Sirius a piece of her mind, but Ron was absently strolling to the back of the room.
James and Peter were at a table together second from the back, both chuckling as they shot tiny daisies at each other with their wands; their wands were moving in a constant circular motion and a pink glow lit up their section of the room.
Draco had scooted to the end of his bench, and his head was together with a girl at the table beside his; Hermione. Remus was next to her, but he was twirling his wand between his fingers, head resting in his hand as he daydreamed and gazed out the window at the courtyard outside. A fierce tiger lily laid in front of Remus on his desk.
The sight of Draco's messy raven hair and Hermione's unruly dark curls was still shocking to Ron. He blinked twice as he squatted in front of them.
He couldn't really hear what they were saying anymore, as if cotton had been stuffed into his ears. He guessed it was because this was Remus's memory and he hadn't paid their conversation much mind. Draco looked a bit sheepish, and the tips of Hermione's ears were red.
I wonder what they're talking about now, Ron thought. Draco said something that made Hermione snort out a laugh, and she hastily covered her mouth. Most likely to avoid Minerva's wrath being thrust upon her.
There was not an ounce of discomfort as the pair interacted: their gestures, touches, expressions. It didn't bother him or surprise him as much as he thought it would.
The memory blurred and faded away as the others before it had.
"Draco and Hermione are together, right?" Ron asked reticently, vision fuzzy as he stared at a spot in the mist swirling around his legs.
"They weren't at that moment, but currently? Yes."
A spattering of brief memories slid by after that: Quidditch games where the Gryffindors dominated, boisterous evenings in the Gryffindor Common room, pranks, light mischief, the blossoming of young love, trips to Hagrid's for tea, just trivial moments of their everyday lives that showcased their past.
Ron was immensely glad he'd agreed to do this purely for the moment the Marauders first encountered Fabian Prewett. It was extra icing on top of the multi-tiered cake he'd been gifted.
So he was their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ron mused. He leaned on Fabian's desk as he introduced himself, drinking in the details of his visage. The few pictures his Mother had shown him paled in comparison.
The memory swept away into the early morning, and two figures were on the cusp of the Forbidden Forest. Ron jogged down the grassy hill after them. They halted, and the tensions were high. Draco appeared frustrated, and Remus was borderline furious. Remus clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
They were discussing the Wolfsbane potion Draco had brewed.
"It was Draco who finally convinced me to get my head out of my arse," Remus commented. Ron listened to Draco plead his case to Remus (to let them join him for Full Moons) in an affectionate yet stern tone.
"Hey! I helped!" Sirius protested.
"You assaulted me with drawings of a big dog. That was not helping," Remus rolled his eyes.
Once again, the scene faded and they arrived at the first Full Moon the Marauders all spent together. The memory itself was strange, different to all the rest. Ron's instincts were sharper, all the sounds and smells in this memory were potent, sharp, and yet, time was disjointed and there was a sense that an eon had passed even though it was only seconds.
Moony accepted them as his. He claimed them. Ron had seen several moments in the Infirmary when Draco and Hermione kept Remus company after a Full Moon (after James, Sirius, and Peter found out they also visited frequently, but Hermione and Draco would skiv off an entire day of classes to be by Remus's side).
Halloween. The Marauders broke a multitude of rules as they snuck out of the Castle and delved into the Muggle world. Ron sputtered and choked when he saw Hermione's costume; not prepared for her scandalous attire. He could show that single image to anyone who wished to know the differences between Hermione Granger and Hermione Potter. Draco's costume was equally as shocking, but Ron supposed it was mainly the horns and trident that had surprised him. Sirius of course stole the spotlight. Something the man himself made sure to declare with lots of pride.
"I looked fucking good that night," Sirius purred.
"Don't you always look good, Padfoot?" Remus teased, bumping shoulders with his friend.
It was peculiar seeing Hermione and Remus together, but thankfully it wasn't too much of a shock due to witnessing the slow formation of their relationship; on top of Sirius and Remus's earlier warning.
The night was long, and Ron's head was turned upside down. He was intoxicated without a drop of liquor touching his lips. The lights and the music were a bit overwhelming. The Marauders all got separated at some point, scattered throughout the party.
The night was wondrous, but the experience was soured by Charlus getting injured when persons broke into the Department of Mysteries and attacked several Unspeakables.
It's funny how history repeats itself, Ron thought.
There was a small time skip. Dorea Potter stormed into Charlus's hospital room, and venomously informed the occupants that Albus Dumbledore had stolen her children.
"What happened?"
"We didn't include the memories because we were in the dark about the whole thing. We still don't actually know what happened…but Dumbledore locked Draco, Hermione and himself in his office for days. Dorea was ready to go on a rampage when they finally emerged, but Hermione stopped her." Remus explained. In the background, Charlus was asking his wife questions, and was halfway out of his bed ready to go after his children.
"We think it had something to do with the Unbreakable Vow Dumbledore made with Hermione and Draco…" Sirius exhaled through his nostrils, strolling around the reasonably sized room. The sterile white walls made Sirius glow as he moved. "After…well, Hermione and Draco were different after that. And there was an uncomfortable distance between them, as if they were walking on eggshells in each other's presence. It was strange, but we didn't pry. We figured if they wanted to talk they would."
Another memory concluded.
From that point onwards, Ron was submerged in the memories. There were no more breaks, and more and more he was in tune with the emotional state of the man whose memory they were exploring.
Ron felt Sirius's elation when James suggested they use footprints for the Marauders Map; he mentioned that Midnight and Draco had helped inspire him. It was fascinating getting a behind the scenes glimpse at the creation of the Map that had gotten them out of many tricky situations over the years.
It jumped to a chilly beach day when the Marauders and their friends had snuck out of school in a rebellious fit of youth. It was apparently the day after the Potter 'twins' birthday.
Draco's carefree laughter carried with the wind. He led the charge, sprinting down the beach, kicking up sand.
Ron found himself caught up in the moment, running alongside the teenagers as they stripped off their clothes and with abandon they surged forth into the frigid sea. Ron caught himself at the edge of the shore, the cold stinging his face, panting heavily. They were vibrantly alive and brimming with gaiety before his eyes.
Hermione was dating Remus. Draco and Marlene were an item. Sirius and Riley were a bashful pair. The relationship dynamics were easy to decipher.
The merriment bled into taut tensions between James and Snape at the end of their fifth year. Where James went, Sirius followed. Ron saw Hermione and Draco's futile attempts to diffuse situation after situation. He saw the target Snape's friends painted on Mary and Riley's backs; trying to hex them any chance they got to rile up James and Sirius. He also saw that Severus's indifference to the girls' plight only served to further infuriate the young lions.
Ron was surprised he hadn't seen more of Riley in these memories, but with each passing one, her presence grew into a greater staple; she was becoming an integral part of their pack.
I should ask Sirius if I can meet her soon. She is family now, Ron thought. A fondness for the woman had developed as they meandered through Sirius's memories. Ron could tell if it was Remus or Sirius's memory when it pertained to the witch, as Sirius's feelings for the witch were abundantly clear. Sirius's memories painted her in hues of his affection, and there was a golden glow around her person.
A summer afternoon. The Marauders (aside from Hermione) were underneath a beech tree Ron recalled Harry, Hermione and himself occupying as they did their homework one weekend. The Marauders were discussing an examination. Defense Against the Dark Arts he surmised.
Snape came over to them, biting out taunts and provocations as he promised to reveal Remus's secret. James and Sirius were beyond furious, jumping up and ready for a fight. Draco tried to reason with his brother and best mate; he failed miserably.
It quickly tumbled into a big commotion, drawing the attention of their classmates.
Not long after, Lily Evans appeared. Close behind her was Hermione. Hermione stormed through the throng of students gathered around, watching. Draco intercepted her, and they talked in low harsh whispers.
Lily was trying to diffuse the situation, and was heatedly talking to James and Sirius.
Shame threaded through Ron's veins and he realised that this was Remus's residual emotion. The boy was adamantly avoiding Hermione's gaze.
I wonder how long they were dating for. It seems quite serious. Which is still a bit bizarre when I try to wrap my head around it. Ron didn't have much time to linger on such thoughts because a burst of red hot fury bubbled in his gut, eating up his insides and rising into his throat. Sirius's emotions were rearing their head.
It had been rare thus far, but where Remus and Sirius's memories overlapped to form better pictures of events, sometimes their emotions muddled together.
Ron blinked and he'd moved. He was staring at Severus Snape hanging upside down in the air. Skinny pallid legs and grey underwear. Ron winced. His body moved of its own accord and he realised he was Sirius. If only for a moment.
A second later, and Ron was beside Remus, Draco and Hermione.
"So much for being a Prefect and stopping injustice," Draco drawled, his jaw clenched as he stared at the events unfolding.
The rest wasn't easy to watch, and part of Ron understood why Harry had been so upset about this particular moment in his Father's history. Ron also understood that James Potter was a much better person than this one moment showed, and he'd defended his friends without a moment's hesitation. (Even if his methodology was absurdly flawed.)
"Forgive me for being such a git," Sirius said, appearing suddenly. Guilt weighed down the man, and shame was painted across Remus.
"And me for being a coward."
"It's not for me to judge you. I've done my fair share of arsehole things," Ron replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He plopped down, but was not met with harsh earth. Truthfully, he didn't feel a thing. Ron bore witness to the closing act of this moment in their past.
More memories sped by. Mary and James broke up, as did Draco and Marlene. The morning after the pack bond was sealed and the tomfoolery that ensued as a result. Ron caught sight of the look on Draco's face, even though everyone else seemed oblivious at the time. The silvery pink scars—bite marks—on their shoulders were physical embodiments of their ties to one another.
The day in Diagon Alley when Remus first came into contact with Tonks. Ron felt the full brunt of Remus's emotions in that moment: the confusion, the euphoria, and an absolute calm in his soul.
Hermione Potter may be a different person from the one he grew up with, but Ron could still read most of her expressions. He knew what she was going to do before he saw it through Remus's memories.
Remus's room. Draco announced he was going to retrieve his ice-cream, and Ron saw him stop to check on Hermione before he left.
Hermione's form looked so fragile and delicate as she told Remus they needed to break up. Ron wished nothing more than to go hug his best mate at that moment. The memory ended abruptly, in a harsh, startling way. Ron collected himself, and readied himself to see more.
Ron was surprised he'd not been emotionally overloaded taking all of this in. He breathed in deeply as the next memory burst into full colour.
Sirius's unfortunate return to his home that summer. Ron's blood boiled as he viewed Walburga offer up her son to the Dark Lord as if he was chattel. He wanted to retaliate and protect the memory of Sirius. The memories pertaining to that chain of events were murky, and fuzzy around the edges after Sirius made it safely to Potter Manor. The panic and desperation oozing from the Potters was intense.
A flash of Ron's own Father in St. Mungo's after he'd been attacked came to mind, and Ron winced. The indicators were all there. The war was building. It crept along slower than it did during the Second Wizarding War; it leisurely invaded their lives.
A short scene of Sirius in St. Mungo's with the distinct smell of antiseptic swirling around, and the stark whiteness of the room affronting Ron's senses. Riley was there. After some heated discussion, the pair came to a consensus that they would pretend to break up; to keep Riley safe.
The consequent memory stung. A compartment on the Hogwarts Express. A clueless Peter Pettigrew with his sweets. The befuddlement swiftly twisted into hurt and pain. The divide and gap in the Marauders ranks had begun.
The Halloween Ball in their Sixth year. The Marauders dressed up in all their finery. Sirius's jealousy over David Miller, and Draco's attempt to cheer him up. Peter was still avoiding his fellow Marauders, so the evening was spent amongst the remaining members. Hermione, James and Remus were gaily spinning around each other, dancing with raucous laughter.
The music bewitched Ron and he found himself amongst the Marauders as they danced. He froze as he witnessed Hermione and Draco sway back and forth, in a world of their own. Sirius shattered the moment, stealing Draco away from Hermione.
He loves her, Ron thought as he witnessed the longing in Draco's grey eyes that glittered with sapphire shards. The shifts in eye colour that frequently happened with Hermione, Draco and Remus were disconcerting at first, but Ron'd gotten used to it.
The apparition lessons in the Great Hall caused recollections of his own experiences to jump to the forefront of his mind. However, his nostalgia was short-lived as commotion behind him caused him to swivel around just in time to see Hermione vanish in thin air. Severus Snape's jaw dropped dramatically, and he blinked with wide eyes like a goldfish.
Memory Sirius was revolving carefully, trying to track down the girl until he found her at the front of the room. He let out a wild cheer. Hermione was beyond pleased with herself. Whispers about Hermione's skill, and her being a prodigy who didn't have to work that hard, erupted amongst her classmates.
Cause she worked her arse off tenfold for years the first time, Ron noted. Amazed at how the perception of Hermione had changed; she was seen as a genius who didn't put that much effort into her schooling. She was a talented witch, there was no disputing that, but she'd honed her talent into a formidable tool with determination and years of hard work. This was simply the result of that.
Plus she already knows how to apparate, Ron smirked. She's just being a show off.
The familiar sensation washed over Ron as a memory washed away. Momentarily they were back in the land of greys, but they were forcefully dragged from it into a new memory.
Thick, impenetrable fog surrounded him. So thick he couldn't see more than a couple inches in front of him. Ron was floating in the sky, weightless and confused.
A disembodied voice loudly boomed around him, "Jasper Richards has scored through his own team's hoops, thus giving ten points to the Hufflepuffs!" Riley.
Ron was hovering next to Sirius, the boy was squinting into the fog, his goggles pushed up onto the crown of his head. He firmly gripped his bludger bat. A strange, whizzing, whistling sound came from above and the memory of Sirius and Ron both looked up at the same time. A dark shadow was heading this way. Sirius readied his bat.
Ron's brow furrowed. The shadow was too large. Seconds later, Ron's breath caught in his throat and his stomach knit together in fear. Hermione's crumpled form appeared and she was plummeting downwards, her broom and bat sailed after her.
Sirius let out a gasp of shock, and he started; about to chase after her. Ron blinked, and a speeding form like lightning was in a nosedive, already hot on Hermione's tail; Draco. Ron barely caught sight of him before Draco disappeared in the fog after Hermione.
"One day, years after this, Hermione told me that she took that bludger to the head to stop it from hitting Draco," Remus said.
Ron was flummoxed. The raw terror on Draco's face as he chased after the witch was highly unsettling. Desperation akin to a starving man looking for crumbs had radiated off of the wizard.
Ron had no time to absorb the scene because the memory hastily melted away.
The strings connecting the memories pushed forth into a startling scene. Blood. It was everywhere. Everything was stained a rich red. Ron flew into a defensive stance. He reached for his wand, but recalled it wasn't with him here. Ron's instincts screamed for him to do something, the warrior in him rising to the call.
James was facedown, in a pool of his own blood. It gushed out of countless wounds on his back, his clothes and skin were shredded. It looked like he'd been mauled. Ron was trembling. Fear was sludge in his veins.
Hermione was sobbing, the white dress she was wearing was covered in crimson. Her hands were on James's wounds, glowing with green light. Draco was kneeling on James's other side. Sirius and Remus were standing a couple feet away, on the edge of the pool of blood.
"Do you remember the counter-curse?" Hermione asked, tears bubbling out of her. Draco, Sirius and Remus were all deathly pale.
Ron saw Remus and Sirius's confusion. Draco furiously smacked the side of his own head, as if this was his fault.
Draco saved James Potter's life. Draco saved his life with shaking hands, with the blood drained from his face, and with tears brimming in his eyes.
They end up in the infirmary and the boys interrogated Draco as to how he'd ended up with the counter-curse to the dark spell Severus had cast as a part of his unique arsenal. Ron sat on the edge of James's bed, listening to them all talk as he studied James's sleeping form. His wounds had been diligently bandaged with the utmost care. He looked so much like Harry in that moment.
Ron saw the similarities, but when he saw James, he was always able to distinguish the pair. It wasn't just the eyes. It was their mannerisms, a birthmark James had that Harry didn't, the differences in their physique. It was a mountain of small things, but when compiled together, they were impossible to ignore.
Ron thought he'd gotten into the groove of the Marauders; that he was starting to understand their dynamic. Then they flipped it all on its head and found themselves in a tattoo parlour. Their artists were all intriguing individuals. He was able to freely walk from Remus's experience to Sirius's, their memories blending together.
"Asters," Ron said softly when he saw Draco's finished piece. "Hermione's birth flower." (A fact he only knew because Hermione had told him as much during their sixth year around her birthday.) It stole his breath away, the depth of their connection.
Ron'd imagined innumerable scenarios since they'd tumbled to the past, letting his imagination get the better of him at times. But, he could never have imagined this.
Ron tried to pinpoint when Hermione and Draco's relationship dynamic shifted, but it was so subtle that he was unable to do so. They must have gotten together by this point, but obviously no one else knew.
Ron almost bit his tongue when he saw Hermione's massive tattoo that took up the majority of her back. "She loves him." It was a consuming love that knocked him off his feet.
He'd never seen Hermione like this. She was bold, and she was braver than ever. Which was saying something. It wasn't just Draco, she'd changed vastly as well.
Everything was off-kilter. She loved Draco. It was undeniable and plain. She loved him with such ferocity that Ron's brain short circuited as he tried to put all the pieces together.
Ron had witnessed so many sides to Draco Potter: his fierce kindness, his obstinate stubbornness, the never ending loyalty he displayed for those he cared about. It was a lot to take in.
The tattoo parlour melted away, and Ron was still wrapping his head around all of the previous information when something new was drawn into the world around Ronald.
Ron was intimately aware of who Draco Potter had become, which is why it pained Ron so much to see how Dorea Potter's death affected him. Charlus and Dorea were delightful from the glimpses Ron had seen, and he would have to ask to see more memories including them one day.
Ron saw Draco flee her funeral. Time dragged during his absence. Ron saw Draco's return, and through Sirius he tasted the stench in the air and smelt the despair on the wizard in front of him. Ron saw Draco fall apart, stumbling around without a compass. Ron saw the wizard broken.
Draco Potter was utterly devastated by the death of his Mother, and Ron suddenly felt like an intruder witnessing these private moments.
Ron followed James and Sirius as they carried Draco upstairs; Sirius and Remus were hanging back, but Remus seemed as absorbed in the events as Ron did. It was his first time witnessing this as well, and tears were pricking the corners of his eyes.
Ron trailed after them in a daze, a mere bystander. He snapped to his senses after they'd gotten Draco into the tub. Ron avoided looking at the naked wizard as much as he could, but the dullness of his magical wolf tattoo on his back drew his attention. Draco was withering away in body and soul.
Ron was about to exit the room, and give them privacy, but with a start he saw the angry red scratches along Draco's left forearm. "That's where—"
"The dark mark is supposed to be? You probably figured out that Hermione and Draco had glamours anchored to their magical cores…but having glamours are just that, glamours. They don't erase what they are hiding," Remus said. He knelt on the ground at the foot of the tub, wistfully watching the subjects of the memory. He folded his arms over the lip of the tub, and his chin came to rest on the top one.
The cold water rushed forth from the silver showerhead, and Draco bolted upwards. Life breathed back into him. Angrily, he yelled, "fucking hell, Theo! First Bla—"
"He really was a mess," Sirius commented from the doorway, a more passive observer this time. All of the memories surrounding the passing of Dorea Potter had brought out more subdued, sombre versions of the men Ron knew.
"He's talking about Nott," Ron stated more to himself than anything.
"You mean the dark haired one that swears a lot?" (Sirius had bumped into the wizard on one of his many visits to the Castle over the past few months. Sometimes Ron brought Theo and Blaise to McGonagall's office for their frequent nightly visits.)
"Yes…he's—my friend? Plus he's…seeing my sister."
"Now that you mention it, he is always hanging around Little Red," Sirius said, clapping his hands together. Ron groaned. He really hoped they were not going to discuss his sister's personal affairs, especially her dating life.
Ron ignored Sirius's teasing comments that followed, but smiled to himself, glad that Sirius was no longer as glum as before.
Through their memories Ron filled in the gaps. Hermione locked herself away for weeks after her Mother's death, Draco ran away, and James was left to face it with his Father at his side.
Ron had also run away once, and even though he would never forgive himself for that, he empathised with Draco because of it. Even if the circumstances had been drastically different.
Draco and Remus comforted each other as they mourned the loss of their Mothers. The Marauders and Charlus healed slowly together. Hermione finally emerged from her room with Remus and Draco's assistance. It was a dark, personal chapter that Ron was honoured to have been deemed trustworthy enough for them to share with him.
The morose memories melted away.
A thunderous crack rattled in Ron's head, and he looked down to see that the ground had splintered and parted jaggedly in between his legs. "What the—"
"I didn't react well when Hermione and Draco told us the truth about them."
"The truth?"
"What they could tell us. They weren't siblings, and they were dating," Sirius answered with a wry smile. Watching his younger self lose all composure.
"Who the fuck are you?" Memory Sirius hissed.
Draco's eyes flickered with pain, the man's shoulders slumped in defeat and quietly, he said, "Draco Potter."
Ron watched as Hermione attempted to intervene, confessing that they'd made an Unbreakable Vow. Not an ounce of fear or trepidation plagued the witch as she stared up at the violent storm swirling in Sirius's eyes.
Draco's movements were graceful and swift. He protectively shielded Hermione from Sirius's wrath. "Calm the fuck down, Pads." Draco snarled, a dangerous edge to his tone. Ron blinked in shock. Draco's tone was sinister in warning, and Ron had never heard him use anything like it with Sirius before.
Ron drifted through the remainder of the scene in shock, and only snapped back to reality when Sirius stormed out of the room. James chased after him. Enraptured, Ron observed the rest of the confession. Remus was hurt, but he was taking it leagues better than Sirius had. Ron wondered what his reaction would have been, he doubted he would have been much better than Sirius.
Ron snorted when Remus asked if Draco was propositioning him. It was a turning point in the Marauder's dynamic, an important memory and Ron dutifully took in every second. They ended in the Hogwarts kitchen with the trio sharing a meal.
The land of greys returned.
A wisp of colour came into being around them, this memory wasn't as corporeal as the others. Draco was sitting on one of the couches in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common room. Heat crackled across Ron's palms. Sirius was on the floor in between Draco's parted legs. Draco was leaning forward, and braiding Sirius's hair in two; he secured the ends with pale pink hair ties. Sirius was reading Quidditch Weekly aloud, and vociferously commenting on how one article was slandering Puddlemere United's good name.
"I forgot Puddlemere is your team," Ron smirked.
"Best team there is," Sirius taunted, singing the words. Ron counted to ten and didn't rise to the bait as he once might have. He knew the Cannons weren't the best team, but he supported them nonetheless.
"You know that only Marauders or Riley can touch Sirius's hair?" Remus asked. "Of course Lily was allowed to as well."
"Never really thought about it if I'm being honest with you, mate," Ron replied.
"It's true. Some fifth year Gryffindor tried to take a leaf out of his hair when we were in Seventh year, and he ducked out of the way so quickly, I was afraid he pulled something."
"I don't want just anyone to put their grubby little hands in my hair," Sirius grumbled.
Ron blinked, and a projectile flew past his face. He stood rooted to the spot in shock. Fear pumped through his veins. It took a minute to get a grasp of his surroundings.
Cake was being hurled around: Sirius was causing the most havoc with handfuls of cake, James was nimbly avoiding most of the shots thrown his way, but he managed to land all of his, Draco and Hermione were shoving cake onto the other's face—in each other's arms—and laughing wildly. Remus was snapping pictures.
A black banner with gold lettering across it caught Ron's eye. 'Happy Birthday, Hermione and Draco!' The glittering gold letters smudged together, and Ron was surrounded by grey again.
Subsequent memories were far warmer, far more pleasant. The Marauders and their friends pulled numerous small pranks, and in particular, one where the Ravenclaw's skin was midnight blue and sparkled with starlight.
Ron watched, slack-jawed as a buff blond Ravenclaw boy stripped off his shirt in the Great Hall and paraded about as if he was an extraordinary gift to them all. McGonagall caught sight of him, and descended from the Head Table to deal swift punishment and thorough lambastation.
"But, Professor! Look how gorgeous I am right now! It would be criminal to hide this from the world."
"Lysander Smith. Git," Remus growled, baring his teeth at the teenager. Ron had seen the boy in the background of several memories, but he'd never been a direct participant.
"One of our more refined pranks. It was all thanks to Draco's excellent potioneering skills," Sirius declared, skipping over to Lysander, swiping a hand at him, but coming up with only smoke. The boy's body formed back in an instant. "See, Moony. Just a memory. Can't rip his heart out."
"Pity," Remus grumbled.
In order to encapsulate Remus's disdain for the bloke, Sirius gave Ron the cliff notes. Smith endlessly flirted with Hermione despite her publicly dating Remus. The unsavoury behaviour only got worse when they broke up, and Hermione added a shite ton of gas to the fire when she kissed Smith one time.
An act that unfairly messed with Smith's head, but neither man found much sympathy for the Ravenclaw. In short, Remus never liked him. Neither did Draco nor James. Draco punched him after he made a comment about Hermione once.
"That sounds…messy," Ron said. Unsure what else to say.
"Oh. It was. But don't feel bad for Smith. For the most part he got himself into trouble whenever he could."
"So did we." Sirius pointed out.
"We got into the good kind of trouble. Smith's idiocy got him into far too many sticky, avoidable situations—all of it was his own doing."
Ron pondered getting involved in the current conversation, but decided against it. Ron threaded his fingers together and linked them behind his head. Whilst Sirius and Remus traded stories about their former classmate, this memory followed in the path of its predecessor.
The drastic downward spiral into treacherous, dark and despairing memories came out of left field. There was no warning, no preparation, no subtle edges of sorrow.
The air that twisted into the room was crisp, fresh yet floral. Spring. Ron was so distracted by the wind caressing his face as he looked out the wide window, he hadn't paid attention to the memory unfurling its tale behind him.
The agonising scream contorted with sorrow ripped him from his daze. One foot to the side, the other behind as he swivelled, his hands in his navy blue jeans pockets.
Charlus Potter laid before him, an axe embedded in his chest. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he tried to speak to his children. They were holding him in their arms.
No sound. No sound reached his ears. The world was grey, all the vibrancy drained from it.
Draco's cries punched through the soundless barrier as he begged their Father to stay. Ron wished he hadn't heard it. It was a haunting sound that would never leave him.
Lily, Remus and a man Ron had never seen were standing a ways away from the quartet. Mipsy was clinging to Lily's leg, trembling.
The spasms and sporadic twitching that wracked Draco's body caught Ron's eye. Ron recognised those spasms. The cruciatus curse.
Another death, more pain. Remus fell to his knees, palms face up on his thighs, tears flowing freely.
The memory burnt around the edges, crumbling to ash around them. The room, the people, the wooden floorboards stained with Charlus's blood. It all crumbled.
The memories of the subsequent months blended together. It was as if the Marauders were breathing, and going through the motions, but they weren't really living. Charlus's death ate away at their souls. There were bright spots: the Queen concert and the Chinese restaurant they found afterwards, the fantastical prank they pulled on their last day of school, Hermione 'losing' the Marauders Map (Ron immediately figured out why), and their graduation.
A solid memory that wasn't a quick flash or image formed. Blinding sunlight, the warmth of summer and the smell of possibility.
Potter Manor. It was a humid day, the kind where the heat was so confining and absolute that it rendered movement futile. It was a day where you could be sitting in the shade of a large tree and still be sweating profusely, and any physical exertion was one hundred times more cumbersome.
Hermione was kneeling in the middle of a bed of dirt, a pair of dark brown gardening gloves were on her hands and she was using a short-handled spade to dig a small hole in front of her. Dirt caked her faded, oversized jeans—they were cinched tight around her waist with a brown leather belt, and a cropped indigo t-shirt exposed her midsection as she moved. Her feet were bare, her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and the curls at her nape were slick with perspiration and clung to her neck. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose.
"Dad made this seem a lot easier than it is," a familiar voice complained. Draco strode into view, two glasses of ice-cold water in hand. He was shirtless, with jeans similar to Hermione's but they were rolled half-way up his shins. His feet were also bare. Draco's head swivelled in Ron's direction, and Ron froze. Ice was in his veins. It was if Draco was staring into his soul.
"Padfoot, you gonna help out? Or you just gonna lie there getting a tan?"
Ron hadn't noticed Sirius's presence until Draco pointed him out. Ron peered over his shoulder, only to be greeted by the younger Sirius Black, on his back in the dry, yellow-green grass, wearing a pair of bubblegum pink boxers and nothing else. The wizard was staring up at the fluffy white clouds as they swam through the azure blue sky.
"Tan," Sirius panted out. "It's too hot to breathe, but you two got the bright idea to partake in manual labour. Count me out."
"Suit yourself," Draco shrugged, he held out a glass for Hermione. The witch sat back on her haunches, wiped the sweat off of her brow with the back of her glove. The smile she shot at Draco captured the blazing sun above them and radiated it in his direction.
"This was—" Remus started.
"After you left for the werewolf packs," Sirius confirmed. "Lily and James were off somewhere in the house being all lovey dovey. I was stuck with the other set of lovers. Although Lily still thought they were siblings at this point."
Sirius hummed absently, "it was also one of the only days off during the beginning of our Auror training. Moody gave us the day, and there was no bloody way I was doing manual labour during that blessed free time."
Hermione carelessly removed her gloves, throwing them onto the dirt beside her. She reached out to accept the water, and Ron gasped softly as he caught sight of her exposed forearm. In his haste to reach her, he stumbled clumsily over to the memory. He fell into the dirt next to her. Ron drank in the details of the tattoo on the inside of her arm. Ron didn't know how he hadn't seen it yet (he knew that they'd gotten more tattoos, and he'd seen a few of the others in passing).
"What is it?" Sirius asked.
"The tattoo…" Ron faltered, unable to finish a coherent thought. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
"The crown you mean?" Sirius inquired further. He crouched beside Ron, studying the tattoo with fresh eyes, trying to decipher why it'd had such a great impact on the ginger boy.
"I don't want to assume…but I am guessing the lightning is for Harry, and the crown is for—for…me." Ron's hand shakily stretched towards his friend, and he tried to touch the tattoo, but one constant remained the same. This was but a memory, and her flesh curled into smoky wisps upon contact, only to furl and stitch back together seconds later.
Draco strode past them, and Ron could only follow his figure, staring at the expanse of his inked back; his pale skin peeked out here and there. The forest scene and the white doe that boldly explored it, and the wolf that sleepily shook its head, a few flower petals dropping from its crown.
Draco squatted down beside Sirius, and splashed a bit of the water from the glass onto Sirius's stomach. The wizard howled, shooting up into a seated position. He reared up, ready to attack Draco, but halted when he noticed Draco was holding out the glass for him to take.
"C'mon. Drink it. You'll become severely dehydrated at this rate."
The sweltering heat swept away in moments, and Ron was encompassed by snow. The contrast in temperature bristled over his skin. Ron was in the same spot as before, and a whistling overhead caused him to tilt his head back.
Broom tag. The Potter siblings are dressed head-to-toe in their Gryffindor Quidditch kits, and they are speedily chasing each in a dizzying circle around the lawn. Sirius, Lily and Remus appeared, and laughter reverberates as Lily zooms after Sirius. Lily isn't as proficient with a broom as the others, but she manages quite well.
"Who is 'it' again?" Draco yelled over his shoulder.
"Does it matter at this point?" Sirius bellowed back. He'd let go of his broom, and his arms were outstretched on either side of him. He was wearing sweatpants tucked into his black leather boots, fancy black dress robes that were unfastened and fluttering out behind him as he zipped through the air. Ron caught sight of his bare chest.
"Weren't you freezing?" Ron asked, holding his hand out to catch a snowflake. It passed through his palm.
"Warming charms, lad." Sirius pointed out.
"They only do so much." Ron laughed at that. Eyes tracking the group as they paused in an irregular circle twenty feet in the air.
"Sirius can be 'it'!" Lily declared, and the wizard didn't have a chance to protest before the others raced away with their merriment trailing after them. Sirius swore colourfully under his breath, and Ron heard it despite the distance. This must be Sirius's memory.
Their environs blurred. A woodsy earthy smell blended with a sweet floral one wound in a tornado about him. Ron closed his eyes, drinking it in. Peace. Home. Those were the sensations evoked in him and fiddled with his heartstrings delicately.
Like building blocks, the world constructed itself about him.
Lily and James were at the centre of it all. Holding each other close, dancing in a slow circle, lovingly gazing at each other. There was no music, no grand moment, they were just a witch and wizard in love. Ron had witnessed their relationship unfold in the background and often forefront of these memories, and he was struck by the beauty of it.
Ron saw all the small glances Lily snuck at James as early as the summer before their third year when she'd stayed at Potter Manor. It wasn't until fifth year when it was obvious she liked James; even if she would never have admitted it.
Ron'd watched as they dated other people to varying degrees of seriousness. He marvelled at the playful bickering, the teasing, the warmth and trust they developed over time. They hadn't fallen for each other overnight, it was a relationship that had built over the span of their Hogwarts education.
In that moment—more than ever—Ron wished Harry was here. If not for anything else, just to see how utterly in love his parents were. Without a shadow of doubt in his heart, he knew that they'd loved Harry with every fibre in their being; until the very end.
The pair tore their gazes from each other, and looked his way. Ron forgot he was in a memory for a moment. He floated away as Sirius and Draco strolled past him. A roaring fire was ablaze in the fireplace behind the quartet. They were in one of the main living rooms.
The couch pillows and several bed sheets had been arranged in a small fort adjacent to the group, and soft light emitted from the sheet's curtain. Throw pillows were strewn across the floor. The room was in disarray.
Hushed words were exchanged. Lily and James outstretched their arms, taking their pack into the fold, and the four of them swayed to a soft ancient rhythm that echoed in Ron's ears. He didn't know if it was his imagination, or theirs. A reverberating drum plucked at his ribs, the whisper of trees tickled his earlobes, and a haunting violin's bow moved across his pulse.
Draco spoke, though Ron was dazed and didn't catch it. The scene bloomed with laughter.
And then they were in the kitchen. Sirius was chopping a red onion. James wandered in; he was searching for something. Draco and Hermione were flipping through a magazine and sharing a lollipop.
They were discussing telling Lily about Draco and Hermione's secret. Ron was surprised they hadn't told her already.
Next thing, Draco is crying into Sirius's shoulder, and Ron once more feels like he's invaded an intensely private moment. Draco doesn't fall apart in front of just anyone. He bottles up his emotions, and only shows the cracks in his impregnable facade to a chosen few.
"I think you mentioned that Draco, Hermione and Remus have a special connection…but Sirius, have you noticed the one you and Draco share?" Ron asked, barely audible.
Sirius opened and closed his mouth, but didn't respond. His brow furrowed, and he scrupulously scrutinised the scene. This memory—like all its predecessors—faded away.
"We're nearing the end—" Remus said, and Ron jumped. Not expecting his soothing voice to tickle his eardrums.
The pack's laughter was all that remained as jubilant music marched in the place of its forefather. There was a soft, warm edge to their surroundings. Potter Manor. They are in a room Ron doesn't recognise, but there is a familiarity to the Architecture and the environs that makes their location undeniable.
It was wondrous chaos: Prongs was covered in various shades of pink paint, and bounded about the room, shaking his antlers. Lily was laughing, a glass of Elf wine in hand as she chased after Prongs (pink paint was speckled across her fingers). Remus was absent. Sirius and Draco's arms were thrown round the other, and they sang boldly and without a care in the world. Hermione was dancing, her feet barely touching the ground, as if possessed by the spirit of a fae. She leapt and twirled, her royal blue skirts floating through the air.
Draco broke away from Sirius—singing gaily—and sprinted over to Hermione. She noticed his approach, a small smile tweaked at the corner of her lips. Draco scooped her off of the ground. Coincidentally Prongs was about to pass by them, and as if he'd planned the whole thing, Draco deftly deposited her on the stag's back.
Hermione let out an unwilling squeal as she righted herself, arms round the stag's broad neck. "Draco!"
"Up you get!" Draco declared joyously, cheeks pink. "Mipsy! Can you please fetch Remus's camera?"
The House Elf smiled, clapped her hands together and said, "of course, Master Draco." She disappeared with a pop.
Hermione had gained her bearings, and her raucous laughter bounced around the room.
Mipsy reappeared with a watery smile, camera in hand. "Mipsy's pups are happy." Ron barely heard the whisper, it kissed his ear canal.
Sirius had found a long length of ribbon, and had swept Lily into dancing with him. The ribbon twisted in the air after them as they spun around the room. Lily's wine had been abandoned somewhere.
Prongs halted by Draco, and Mipsy snapped a few pictures at that moment. Draco was rubbing the side of his brother's neck, and Hermione had taken hold of Prong's antlers. They were all brimming with joy, eyes squeezed partially shut with glee.
The soft edges of the memory faded away into grey for a final time.
When the trio left the pensieve, night had already fallen. Remus quietly made for the kitchen to put on the kettle. Ron shakily took a seat on the living room couch, clutching one of the soft throw pillows to his front. Ron needed a moment to process everything he'd witnessed. Sirius sat on the floor closeby—in front of an armchair—silently observing him.
Ron was so preoccupied with ruminating over the events he'd witnessed, that he didn't notice Remus's return until the werewolf placed a teacup and saucer before him on the coffee table.
"I don't think Draco Malfoy was a bad person. I—I think he was a boy who made all the wrong choices," Remus said quietly. He seated himself in the armchair by Sirius. Sirius laid his head back against Remus's leg. "Otherwise, I don't think he could have become the man you just saw."
Ron drank his mint tea, and the smell brought forth more thoughts of Draco. Draco Potter. Draco Malfoy no longer existed.
Ron didn't linger after that, just long enough to finish his tea. He drank it in small sips, only pausing to blow on the hot liquid so it didn't burn his tongue.
Remus and Sirius were drinking their tea in a blasé manner, as if attempting to create the illusion that their hands and mouths were being kept busy and thus they were incapable of speech.
All too quickly, Ron finished off his tea, insisted on washing up his dishes by hand, and found himself standing on the front door's threshold—hands in his pockets—staring at his hosts. Remus and Sirius were draped over each other, crowding the doorway.
"You've given me a lot to think about. It wasn't quite what I was expecting…" Ron trailed off, a bewildered smile twisting his features.
"In a good way?" Sirius prodded.
Ron nodded eagerly, teeth clicking together at the jerky, sudden movement. "Yes! He is…Draco is brilliant. Still a wanker, but—" Ron swallowed thickly, feelings were welling up in his chest like a flash flood, crashing and roaring. A dam burst inside of him without warning, and it was overwhelming.
"But?" Remus asked, the faintest trace of hope swimming in his voice.
"I can't wait for him to get back," Ron admitted honestly, a sheepish pink tinge staining his cheeks. He admitted it without shame or hesitation. Both men visibly relaxed, all the tension drained out of them, and ripples of calm and happiness radiated off of them.
"I'm sure Draco feels the same way," Remus said. The man was smiling, a sad, nostalgic smile that held whispers of secrets. Remus smoothed down the hair on his nape. "Hermione must have talked about you and Harry over the years, so…"
"He'll be glad I'm willing to give him a chance?"
"It will mean more than you know," Sirius said. A mysterious air twisted around the man, his expression strangely similar to Remus's.
Ron thanked the pair for their hospitality, the tea, and sharing such private, intimate details of their lives with him. Sirius waved away his politeness and reminded him that he was family; he was Harry's person. Remus ruffled Ron's short hair, and echoed his friend's sentiments.
The two men stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind, waving and bidding the ginger farewell as he backed away from the house. Ron waved back, exuberantly. The crisp Spring air embraced him, and shivering, Ron left. His apparition left a crackle in the dark, twinkling sky.
"We did the right thing, didn't we?"
"Paws may kill us for sharing some of those, but overall I think we did the best we could," Sirius answered.
"You're right. Hearing about him isn't enough. They need to see how he's changed."
Sirius exhaled harshly as he closed the front door. Sirius fell back against it, his open hands splayed on the wood either side of him. "I'm worried about Harry. I understand his reluctance to embrace Draco's new place in his life, but—he didn't ask for any of this."
"In all fairness. None of us did, it just happened. Draco made a choice, Sirius. He chose to stick by Hermione in a time that wasn't theirs, despite the previous years of contempt and bad blood between them." Remus dragged a hand down his face. Fatigue hitting him. "You can't mollycoddle Harry when it comes to Draco forever."
"I don't want to force—"
"And if Draco returns tomorrow? What then? Harry will be grossly unprepared for that." Remus impatiently tapped his foot against the floorboards.
Neither man spoke, both pondering how the events would unfold if such a thing was to happen. It wasn't completely off the table. Hermione and Draco's return could be at any moment.
Sirius stared at his feet, a pained smile in place. "Not to mention it would hurt Draco."
"Fuck," Remus swore lowly. "I hadn't even considered that."
"Dray is returning to a time where a lot of people view him quite differently, and just because his feelings towards them have changed, that doesn't mean it will be reciprocated."
"Knowing him, the git won't even talk to us about it."
More thoughtful silence. Sirius pushed off of the door, tucking his raven hair behind his ears. Sirius's smile morphed into something brighter, almost dreamlike and luminescent. "We did the right thing, Moony."
"You mean showing Ron the memories? Why do you say that?"
"Because now there's one less person Draco has to worry about. And there's one more person who is looking forward to his return. Someone who understands him."
"That is…a fair point."
"I'm full of pearls of wisdom like that."
"You're full of shite most of the time, but that was beautifully profound, Padfoot."
Sirius smirked, planting a loud kiss on Remus's cheek before he ambled past him—to their left—into the kitchen. Remus followed. Sirius hopped up onto the counter, swinging his feet back and forth. Remus began to investigate the cupboards, in search of snacks.
Triumphantly, Remus stumbled across a package of sugar quills, and was about to munch on them, when Sirius cleared his throat, drawing his friend's attention.
"Want me to cook dinner?" Sirius offered.
"We haven't been to the shops in over a week and a half, so we're running a bit low on supplies—"
"Say no more. Challenge accepted," Sirius declared. He vaulted off of the counter; miraculously invigorated. The endless energy wafting off of Sirius blew a second wind in Remus's sails.
"I'll help," Remus said.
The two ended their evening in a quiet way. Cooking side-by-side, exchanging light banter as they did so. Sirius scrounged together enough to make a delectable pasta dish; red sauce, lots of finely diced vegetables, some chopped chili peppers to add a kick, penne and minced meat. He'd poured it into a glass dish, sprinkled cheese on top and baked it in the oven.
The two men put a tea towel under the piping hot dish after it came out of the oven, grabbed two forks and ate straight out of it as they conversed and reminisced on several of their more elaborate pranks. They were sitting on the countertop, legs swinging.
They brushed over other topics, but they both astutely veered away from the subject of Harry and Draco. However, it lingered in the back of their minds. How would Harry react if Draco was to return the following day? Neither of them was sure they wished to find out.
A roaring fire, a woodsy smell, rambunctious conversations, some third years playing an energetic game of exploding snap in the middle of the path. Ron stepped through the Portrait Hole and was assaulted by warmth and students enjoying their Saturday evening.
Ron scanned the room for Harry, and found his friend settled in an armchair by the fireplace. A large tome was floating in the air in front of him, a notebook was in his lap, and he was leaning forward; mouth silently moving as his eyes roved the tome's pages. Harry occasionally jotted down notes in his notebook using a long-feathered black quill. An ink jar was floating to his left. Harry was alone.
(At the beginning of the year, the younger years hounded Harry for autographs and hit him with a barrage of questions about how he defeated the Dark Lord, but McGonagall hastily dissuaded that kind of behaviour. Additionally, Harry usually smiled and refused to answer or indulge their absurdity. It hadn't taken long for them to leave Harry alone, or approach him because they admired him for his actual talents.)
Ron tiredly joined his best mate, dropping into the armchair beside him. Harry glanced up for a moment, a polite smile in place that bloomed into a genuine one as he realised who it was.
"Transfiguration?" Ron asked errantly, slumping down in his seat, his left arm strewn across the chair's arm. Ron propped up his head in his right hand; his thumb pressed against his temple, his index and middle finger covered his forehead.
Harry made a noise of assent. He paused, twirled his quill between his fingers. The fireplace's flames crackled in the background, their rich oranges dancing across Harry's features. Harry's bright green eyes were ablaze.
Harry cleared his throat, purposefully closed his notebook, and asked, "so? Is he all bubblegum and rainbows?"
Ron exhaled deeply at the question. Where to begin? Ron contemplated Harry's inquiry deeply, his mouth parted as he tried to find a simple answer.
"No." Was the profound elucidation Ron arrived at. Harry's brow furrowed, and his fingers played with the edges of his notebook.
"And?"
"It's very hard to encapsulate everything I just saw, mate. Malfoy doesn't exist anymore. Draco—"
"Draco?" Harry repeated as soon as the name fell from Ron's lips; Ron's tongue darted out to wet them before he spoke again.
"Draco is a different person now, Harry. The easiest way for you to understand is if you witness it yourself."
Draco was not only different, he was an irreplaceable, crucial member of the Marauders. He was the person Hermione was madly in love with. He was Remus's strength, and Sirius's protector. Draco was so much more than bubblegum and rainbows.
Traces of the boy they'd known remained. His dry humour, crude comments, snark, and endless wit. Otherwise, the snake had transformed; the snake was hiding amongst lion's fur, reckless and willing to put his life on the line for those he cared for.
Harry sensed the change in his friend's demeanour as he spoke. Previously, Ron was curious about the man they'd heard of, but a touch of reservation was still present. Something akin to affection tinged his words now.
Harry swallowed thickly, and with a laboured sigh, said, "I will. I'll ask Sirius and Remus to show me—soon. Just give me a bit more time. Please."
Harry's disinclination to learn more about Draco Potter concerned Ron, but he nodded slowly, tongue pressed into the side of his cheek. "It's up to you, mate."
Ron feared that Harry was running out of time. Besides, the more Harry delayed it, the harder it would be to take that plunge.
He'll also be comically unequipped to meet Hermione again. Draco may be a completely different person now, but Hermione has hardly stayed the same. The witch is ferocious, unabashedly blunt and untameable, Ron thought.
A companionable silence took over, Harry reopened his book, and the sound of his quill scratching against the paper filled Ron's ears. The sounds from the rest of the room's occupants faded away. Ron stared into the fireplace. The flames enchanting him, their warm tendrils reaching out like a soft caress.
Ron didn't know what possessed him to say it, but the words were out of his mouth like lightning. "Don't draw it out, mate. Before you know it, it'll be too late."
"Did you say something?" Harry peeked at Ron over the rim of his glasses.
"Nothing," Ron muttered, waving a hand dismissively. Harry shrugged, dutifully resuming his task.
Hermione and Draco were going to return sometime. They had to. Ron only hoped that Harry learnt more about Draco before he was confronted with the man himself in the flesh; utterly ill-equipped for what he was faced with.
One can hope, Ron thought. His eyes fluttered closed. It had been a truly exhausting day. So, Ron Weasley fell asleep swaddled with warmth in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry Potter watched as his friend snored softly, sleep claiming him and brushing innocence and peace over his features. Harry knew he should have gone with Ron, and he knew he should look at the memories. He just didn't know if he was ready for his world to be changed irrevocably.
Despite those thoughts, Harry was blatantly aware that whether he liked it or not, his world had already changed. And Draco Potter was now a permanent fixture in it.