a/n1: Hello again! I am really writing a lot these days, but viv-heart will be in Ireland next week, so who knows if I can keep the flow ;) She continues to be my ever-patient beta and remember the collab between the two of us I announced (quite) some time ago? We got the first chapters ready and will start posting after she is back. Enjoy the chapter! :)
Hermione entered the kitchen after Bill, somehow expecting it to be as boisterous as it had been before the War. But of course it wasn't. Ginny and George were mutely levitating the plates outside, where the table was standing. Harry and Ron were quietly talking to Charlie and Percy was leaning against the shed, smoking a cigarette. Hermione watched Ginny walk over, taking a drag of the cigarette and passing it back to Percy before coming back inside.
The two young women greeted each other with a short fierce hug.
"Can I talk to you later?" Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear and the latter nodded.
"'Ermione!" Fleur came over, sheathing her wand in the arm wand holder she still wore.
"Fleur, it's good to see you," Hermione smiled and let go of Ginny, who took the last plates outside, followed by Molly who was levitating the roast.
"Et toi. 'ow is zhe 'ouse progressing?" the older witch asked in a friendly manner.
Hermione explained everything they had done so far while they walked over to the table in the garden.
When Percy joined them Molly didn't so much as scrunch up her nose at the smell of cigarette smoke. She only ushered him to the table.
"Mum, when will dad join us?" Ron asked sitting down.
"I am right here. Sorry, that I am late," Mr Weasley said and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek before sitting down as well.
They tucked in, but unlike nearly every Weasley dinner before this one was eerily silent. Only Bill, Fleur, Charlie and Mr Weasley were talking. Ginny only picked at her food, George was eating like he wasn't even noticing what he was doing and Percy tapped his goblet and the fluid turned amber, like Firewhiskey.
"Well, Ginny, what are you up to these days?" Hermione asked in the worst possible way to start a conversation.
"Not much," Ginny answered quietly. "I have been in muggle London yesterday evening, that was nice."
"Sounds brilliant! Where did you go?" Hermione tried to keep the conversation going.
Ginny glanced at her mother for a second. "Why don't we take a walk and I tell you?"
Hermione hadn't finished her plate yet, but the look on the younger girl's face told her that she needed a friend to talk to.
"Of course," she replied. "Molly? Ginny and I will take a walk for a bit!" Hermione called to the other side of the table and then they were of towards the orchard.
As soon as they had left the circle of light surrounding the table they noticed that the sky had started to darken. They walked around the pond to the small stream that led from it into the fields behind the orchard.
"What happened in London?" Hermione asked gently when Ginny settled on a rock just past the border of the premises of the Weasleys.
"I- um…You know Blaise Zabini?" the red-head asked in a small voice.
"All three of us were in the Slug Club and he is in my year, so, yes, I do," Hermione replied settling on the soil next to the rock. There was just enough light left to see the look of shame that crossed Ginny features.
"What did he do?"
"Nothing I didn't want," Ginny replied slowly, as if she had to force herself to talk about it. "We met on Thursday night in a muggle bar. We talked and somehow…we ended up having sex. I- I know his reputation and especially in the last year he was known to sleep around. So I was rather surprised to meet him at the bar on Friday and yesterday again. I didn't want to talk on Friday so we just sat there, drinking together. Never mind that I am not even allowed to drink just yet. Used a light Confundus on the bartender. But yesterday…we did it again. And I…"
Hermione took Ginny's hand. "It's alright to talk about it, you know?"
"When I woke up today, I felt good for the first time since Fleur's and Bill's wedding," Ginny whispered. "He made breakfast for me and he was so nice, but then he told me that he would go to Beauxbatons for his last year and…I just crumbled. I managed not to cry in front of him. But he is a Slytherin, I am sure he noticed."
"Well, safe for him not being at Hogwarts next year it sounds rather good," Hermione said tentatively. "What is the catch?"
Ginny smiled a little. "I think I have a crush on him and when my brothers or mum find out …I don't want to be told not to like him just because he is Slytherin."
"I will make sure Ron behaves. As for your mother, I am sure she would only worry whether you are happy or not," Hermione said trying not to think too much about her fourth year and the Rita Skeeter disaster.
"Thank you, 'Mione. But do you know what worries me most?" Ginny fiddled with the hem of her shirt, opening and closing her mouth multiple times. "I fear that I am just another notch on his bed post!"
"I don't know. You know that I am not exactly the most experienced person ever," Hermione joked. "But I think you should just ask him the next time you see him. And…the question may be a tad inappropriate…But are you ready for a relationship?"
Ginny looked up at her in surprise. "N-no, I don't think so. But I'd like to get the chance to date him, you know?"
"Well, then meet him again and find out more," Hermione smiled and Ginny returned it.
"Alright. I wanted to ask…How are you and Ron doing?"
Hermione snorted. "Not at all, thank you very much. We talked and came to the conclusion that we are way better of as friends."
"I have to admit that I am relieved," Ginny said smiling a bit impishly. "Having you officially as a part of the family would have been nice, but you and Ron would have killed each other within the first year of your relationship."
"Why thank you for having so much faith in me!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly.
Ginny replied with shoving her into the stream. It wasn't deep but cold and Hermione gasped and pulled the youngest Weasley in as well. They both sat there, gasping for breath and slowly dissolving into laughter.
It felt good. Hermione felt free and light for the first time in ages. She suddenly realised that she hadn't felt so free since the Yule Ball in fourth year. After a few minutes they started to shiver and climbed back onto the bank and Hermione cast a wandless drying charm over them. She had had much time to exercise that one on the run.
"You are terrible, you know," Ginny said with a smile when they both sat back down on the rock.
"Right back at you," Hermione replied and looked up at the starry sky. "I think you are actually my best female friend."
"Not that there is any hard competition," Ginny remarked drily which made Hermione snort.
"It's not my fault that I never got along with Lavender and Parvati," she tried to defend herself.
Ginny laughed. "I would have been surprised if you actually did! They were awful gossips."
"I don't want to talk badly about Lavender," Hermione admitted in a small voice.
"I understand. I feel the same way about some of my classmates," Ginny said more subdued and Hermione had begun scolding herself for ruining the mood when the other girl continued. "But I think we also shouldn't lie about them. Lavender could be awful, but remember how she readily helped you with your hair in fourth year for the Yule Ball? She also joined the D. A. and fought in the Battle. She could have fled, like Zacharias Smith, but she didn't. She stayed and fought."
Hermione had to admit that Ginny was right. Veiling their deeds would be wrong, but they should remember the whole person and not just some parts. As much as Lavender had teased her about her hair, when she had nearly given up before the Yule Ball her roommate had sat aside her own preparations and helped her. In sixth year she had been awful about being in a relationship with Ron but she had apologised at the end of the year.
Ginny pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. "You know, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Tom just had an accident with the basilisk for example and died. How would our world be different? Would there have been another Dark Lord or even a Dark Lady?"
Hermione didn't reply for a long time, just staring off into the approaching night. She had had these thoughts as well. Everyone in wizarding Britain probably had at one point or another. What would have happened? Would they be where they were now? Would they even exist?
"He influenced our world for so long. It's nearly impossible to tell," Hermione finally said.
They sat there until they started shivering from the night cold and then they got up and went back to the house.
Draco was sitting under the tree in the backyard at Tonks Cottage. His parents and Andromeda were in the sitting room, Andromeda and Lucius playing a game of wizarding chess and Narcissa reading to Teddy.
The night air was cool on his too hot skin. Draco had to go outside because inside he felt as if he couldn't breathe anymore, just like he had when Hermione and the Demented Duo had been over for lunch the previous day. They had managed to stay civil but Draco knew Potter and the Weasel. He had anticipated at least one cutting remark but it never came. The suspension had nearly cost him his temper.
When Hermione had left the room he had seen the perfect opening. He went after her and had been just too happy not to talk. Around her he turned back into the Slytherin Death Eater git he had been for too long. First because he was a dumb teenager boy, then because he had to and finally because everyone thought of him that way anyway.
With every cutting remark, every hex he had felt more in control and safer from the Dark Lord's wrath. But it had only lasted so long. At night everything he said and did haunted him. After he had saved Lovegood on Christmas he hadn't slept through the night anymore. Always fearing that they would do something to her while he was away. Saving her had been the only good and right thing he had done in all that time and he hated himself for that.
He should have been stronger, should have gotten his mother to leave their home with him and never look back. But the Dark Lord would have found him with the tracking spell in the Mark, he had demonstrated that on more than one occasion. The refugee would be dragged back to the Manor by Snatchers and tortured with everything the cruel minds of the Death Eaters could think of. That process sometimes lasted days.
Shuddering Draco returned to the present, relaxing the fists his hands formed on their own and looking detachedly at the red crescents in his palms. Wallowing in the past wouldn't help him. He really hoped he would be allowed to write to Theo. He was the only living friend of Draco's who would understand, having been marked in the summer before seventh year. It hadn't been Theo's decision though. His own father had offered him up as a new recruit.
Draco swallowed hard. Theo hadn't been the only one who had been offered by his own father. The same happened to Adrian Pucey, who had been marked shortly after his graduation. He had been executed for using Unforgivables.
Cursing Draco got up and started boxing the tree. It hurt. But he felt the pain in his chest receding. After a minute or two he stopped and leant against the tree, chest heaving and chocking on sobs.
Slowly he lowered himself to the ground and slung his arms around his legs.
"Gods damned buggering shit," he whispered under his breath, again and again. It was so unfair! They had been children! Yes, they had been awful to their classmates. Draco knew he had been a little shit in his first years at Hogwarts. But if this was some kind of punishment for his sins he felt it was way too much.
Realising that he was crying, again, Draco defiantly swiped away the tears and sniffed forcefully. He sat more upright and tried to breathe more regularly. He brushed back the long sleeve of his pullover and looked at the ugly scar that was his Dark Mark. Suddenly Draco remembered something he had overheard in the library once.
There were muggle tattoo artists! Of course those tattoos weren't moving, but Draco had really enough of moving tattoos. Maybe he could ask Hermione where to find them. Maybe they would be able to cover the scar with ink. Hopefully it wasn't cursed so it wouldn't change.
Draco looked up to the sky and wondered which motive he would choose. Something happy most certainly, something beautiful. If only he knew what his Patronus looked like. But he was never able to produce one.
It was nearing midnight when Draco noticed someone coming over from the house. At first he thought Bellatrix had been resurrected. He shook his head. His aunt Andromeda was as far away from being Bellatrix as Harry Potter was of casting an Unforgivable (little did Draco know that it wasn't actually not that far).
"Enjoying the night sky?" Andromeda asked quietly when she came closer.
"Who wouldn't?" Draco answered while she sat down next to him.
"You are doing great, you know?"
Draco snorted, he doubted that.
"Others would have reacted much worse than you did, having their arch-nemeses over for lunch. More so in the first safe haven they have known for years," Andromeda said gazing up into the sky. "I know Cissy tried to protect you from the worst of it, but I don't think school was easy. It wasn't for me back then anyway."
"But you managed to turn them down and run away," Draco said bitterly, looking down.
Andromeda looked at him for a moment and then shifted her gaze back to the sky. She didn't say anything for some time.
"I was in love. I had someone to assure me that what I did was right. And even then I only managed to do so after I graduated. If I hadn't agreed to open my house as a safehouse I never would have found the strength to talk to Cissy," Andromeda admitted to Draco.
He wondered whether it would have been different for him as well, had he fallen in love with say Granger. Draco frowned at that thought. Where had that come from?
"Say, Andromeda, how well do you know the muggles?" he asked his aunt tentatively.
"Pretty well I guess," she answered turning to look at him. "Why?"
"I overheard something about muggle tattoo artists and I wondered…" he trailed of, suddenly unsure how to continue.
"Whether they could cover your Mark?" Andromeda asked and he nodded. "I don't know. But you could try. Ted's brother has a son a bit older than you, maybe he knows more."
"Ted had a brother?" Draco repeated. He hadn't known that.
"Yes, a sister as well, but she lives in Australia," Andromeda smiled as if remembering something. "I will have to visit them soon and tell them about Ted and Nymphadora and Remus and-"
Andromeda choked and Draco had to watch helplessly as his aunt, the strong woman who had defied her family for her husband, crumbled. He awkwardly patted her back and she smiled at him through her tears.
"I am so, so sorry," she finally said with a thick voice. "You shouldn't have to see me like this."
Draco sat there feeling strangely calm having realised something. Even the strongest adults cried sometimes and crumbled in the face of death of their loved ones.
"It's alright," he said now, putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging his aunt for the first time. "It's normal to grieve."
It sounded strange in his own ears but Andromeda smiled and put an arm around his shoulders as well.
"Cissa would be so proud seeing you like this," she said and gazed across the yard to the sitting room window where they could see Narcissa and Lucius sitting on the couch together.
"Come on, let's go inside. It's getting chilly."
They were nearly at the door when Draco spoke up. "Thank you for coming outside."
Andromeda smiled sadly at him, the smile barely visible in the light of the half moon.
a/n2: So what did you think? Andromeda has been holding it together for way too long in my opinion. And Draco needed to see it. I hope you enjoyed it :) Till next time! :)