Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.
Harry Potter Has Saved Us All
"That was one of the best Easters," Ginny smiled, pulling Harry onto the sofa with her. "Just like when we were kids!"
Ron closed his eyes and rested his head back in the armchair which was usually his father's. "Better," he amended. "Nobody transfigured my chocolate bunny into a dead vole."
The crack of an Apparition made him open his eyes again. Everyone was glaring at him except for Harry, who looked confused, and George, who had gone. Ron covered his face with both hands.
"He just said things were better without Fred," Ginny explained to Harry.
They were in The Burrow's sitting room: Ron, Ginny, Harry, Bill and Percy. Everyone else had gone to bed or gone home.
"Let's raid Dad's drinks," Bill suggested, "where's he hiding them now?"
"He probably hasn't moved them since the summer," Ginny answered. "He though it was only Charlie, remember?"
Bill pulled two bottles out of matching twee vases someone had given him and Fleur as wedding presents and they had 'forgotten' to take to Shell Cottage.
"Old Ogden's and something called Janx Spirit," he announced.
"He'll notice and then he'll know," observed Ginny wistfully, "I wish Charlie was here to take the blame."
"I wish Charlie was here full stop," Ron grumbled. "And Fred, of course. And George for that matter," he added.
Ginny said, "Poor Charlie. Bloody Malfoy."
She was shocked by Bill's bitter laugh from the other side of the room. He was pouring out a glass of each drink for each of them. He looked up when he'd finished to find everyone except Percy looking quizzically at him. Percy was pointedly examining the fire as though trying to stay out of the coming conversation.
"Well, it's the kid I feel sorry for. You know what Charlie's like. Oh, no, you don't, do you? You lot weren't at school with him," Bill sat back, flicking his wand casually to distribute the drinks.
To the younger Weasleys, Charlie had been a bit of a hero: Quidditch Captain, cheeky rebel, brave dragon fighter … much more interesting than head boy, then a job in a bank or the civil service. Those were the things that impressed their parents.
"We were at school with Malfoy, though," Ron reminded Bill, "and he's not someone it's possible to feel sorry for." He grabbed his drinks out of the air.
Percy thought about saying something, but let it go. He was surprised when Harry came out with almost the very words he had been thinking of using: "He had a tough time in the war. And before that. With Voldemort."
"It's no excuse!" Ginny added, quickly.
"No, I'm not saying that," Harry answered. The exchange sounded like one they'd had many times before.
"He must have bewitched Charlie or something, I mean Charlie's straight …" Ron muttered. Again the sentence sounded stale.
"Hardly," Bill spluttered into his glass, tipsy already, and on a rare evening away from wife and baby. "I bet he was a mess after the last battle, was he, this Malfoy boy? Hard time with The Dark Lord and then defeat? Not many friends? Perfect bloody victim for Charlie! And he's only your age, isn't he?"
"Believe me, Malfoy's nobody's victim! You want to save your pity for our brother!" Ron exploded.
Bill gestured almost threateningly with a portion of chocolate egg, "You're old enough to hear this now. Percy and I have been covering for Charlie for years, at least a decade. This is classic Charlie. Though this one has been going on a bit. But at some point he'll dump that poor lovesick child and he'll be more miserable than he was to start with. That's what happens. All through school. And since."
"You reckon they'll split up soon, then?" Ron asked hopefully.
"Covering what? How?" Ginny asked.
"It was lucky for Charlie that I was Head Boy when I was," Bill answered. He looked like he was about to launch into a full revelation, but Percy intervened.
"Don't tell George!" he ordered Ginny, then turned to each of the others in turn. "He's not up to it. He and Fred idolised Charlie and we always managed to keep them in the dark, no point changing that now." He turned warningly to Bill.
Rubbing tiredly at the long scars down his cheeks, Bill replied, "You're the only one who was at school with both Charlie and Draco. You tell us who should we be feeling sorry for."
Percy thought a moment, "Neither of them," he answered. "I've been out to see them a few times and they seem surprisingly well matched. It doesn't look like anyone's bewitching or manipulating anyone else. There's nothing to stop any of you checking it out for yourselves."
Malfoy Manor, 5th June 1999
Happy Birthday, Darling Draco!
I am sending this parcel with Gellert, the Eagle Owl you had at school. I hope he can find you as I still don't have your address. We don't need him back, I thought you could probably do with the company.
The cufflinks belonged to my father. I sometimes wonder how he would have felt about his grandson now. We have lots of other gifts for you here but you will have to come and collect them yourself.
I hope you have a lovely day. I do wish you would come home, your father and I miss you so much. We haven't seen you for nearly a year now. If you run away from that horrid man now, I'm sure your father will forgive you and we can be a happy family again. I lied to the Dark Lord to keep you safe, I risked my life for you. Remember?
You'll be pleased to know that the Pygmy Puff is thriving . There's a Sacher Torte here with nineteen candles on it. Don't make me eat it all on my own,
Your loving mother,
Narcissa
Charlie came in from work injured again. This time it was a burnt shoulder. Draco rushed from the half-peeled pumpkin to dab on the paste.
"I can't keep doing this," Charlie groaned. "It's a young man's game." He lay back on Draco's lap, happy to be nursed.
"You're only twenty-six," Draco laughed, laying wet bandages over the paste, happy to be nursing.
"I don't know what I'm going to do when I am too old for dragon work," Charlie pondered, self-pityingly.
"By then my parents will be dead and we can move into Malfoy Manor," Draco said, "and you can laze about being looked after by House Elves."
"That's a long way off, Drake. What makes you think you'll still want to be saddled with me?" Charlie asked.
Draco pushed Charlie off him and stood up, snorting, "I know I'll want to be with you. You're the one who's not sure. And don't call me Drake. You reduce me from a dragon to a duck." He stomped back to making the pumpkin pie.
"Don't be like that, baby!" Charlie shouted after him, settling back on the sofa. "You know I love you. I'd marry you if I could!"
Draco wiped his hands on his apron and went through to the hatch to see which customer had rung his bell. But it wasn't a customer, it was Percy, looking drained and tense. Draco told Monica, his new assistant, to mind the shop and he and Percy trudged through the snow across the yard between the kiosk and the cottage.
He offered Percy a Pepper Up potion, which he declined, and a seat, which he sank into.
"You'd better sit down too, Draco," he sighed.
"Can't I get you a cup of tea? There's cherry vodka somewhere left over from our New Years party." Draco took off his apron.
"I don't know if I should be telling you this or not," Percy said, looking so serious that Draco did sit down.
Percy looked into Draco's face and then down at his own hands before saying, "I've just taken another Perpetrator Deposition."
Draco tried to swallow, but his throat was suddenly too dry.
"I just thought you should know," Percy said solemnly.
"Who?" Draco managed to croak.
Percy shook his head, saying, "Sorry, confidential."
"And immune," Draco said bitterly, finding his voice again. "I think I'll have some of that cherry vodka. You sure you won't join me?"
"Just a small one then. I've got to back to work."
But Draco's hands were shaking too much to pour, so Percy had to take over.
"I shouldn't have told you, should I?" Percy asked.
"Yes. I'm grateful. I'll be OK," Draco gulped between mouthfuls of the drink.
"If I get any more?" Percy checked.
"Tell me. Thank you." Draco poured them another drink each. "This vodka is vile. I don't know who brought us this."
"I don't suppose … no." Percy stopped himself.
"Go on," Draco encouraged him, chucking back his second drink and pulling a face.
"Have you got any idea whether there could be more, how many …?" he trailed off as Draco shook his head.
"I was blind-folded."
"I know, I'm sorry," Percy answered hastily, then emptied his glass. "This does taste foul."
"I have been thinking about giving you a deposition. But I can't do it. I'm too much of a coward," Draco said, putting his glass in the sink.
Percy stared at the bottle, considering it while he said, "That's not cowardice, that's normal. I'd like to run away from the whole thing myself. But I've staked my career on it now." He filled his glass again. "Which doesn't mean I'm not still hopeful that you'll change your mind. You're an important witness." He tried to knock back the disgusting pink liquid without tasting it. And failed. "Will you be all right? I have to go back to work now."
Draco assessed Percy. He was still pale and shaking slightly, but he was now also swaying a little. "If you try to Apparate in this condition you'll splinch yourself," he said reasonably. "And for obvious reasons, we've chosen not to connect to the Floo network or anything else which might give away our location. For the same reasons, I'm afraid I can't offer you a side-along into London which will be full of Father's spies. So why don't you stay to supper? Charlie would love to see you."
"I didn't tell The Ministry I was leaving …" Percy began to protest.
"It's shepherd's pie."
"We can't tell Charlie why I'm here," objected Percy.
"We'll pretend you missed him and wanted to see him," Draco teased.
"I do miss him, I do like seeing him. And you. But I have to write this up …"
"Sponge pudding and custard."
"You've twisted my arm!" Percy laughed.
Mr and Mrs Arthur Weasley are delighted to invite
CHARLES WEASLEY AND GUEST
To the Marriage of their daughter, Miss Ginevra Weasley to Mr Harry Potter
On 13th April 2000 at 11.00 am
In the garden of The Burrow, and to the reception afterwards in the same place.
R.S.V.P