Remember This Song, Part III
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Ginny stood by the window – safely separated by the glass – as Draco Malfoy carried his wife on his back, her nearly useless legs dangling in the air, her arms around his neck. Scorpius was following closely, one hand on his mother's dress like he was a young child. In his other hand, he held his broom and he used it to wave goodbye to the assorted Potters outside. Ginny could hear Albus and Lily shout their last goodbyes as the Malfoys headed up to the Apparation point. James merely stood by Harry, apparently too old to indulge in enthused farewells.
Ginny stepped away from the window. She had told them she couldn't possibly leave the roast in the oven at the moment. It would be ruined. James had looked as though he wanted to make a comment – she wasn't exactly a good cook, it seemed that Ron of all the Weasleys had inherited their mother's touch, but James was reluctant to make fun of his own family in front of Scorpius.
Ginny was poking at the ruined roast when Albus burst through the kitchen door to catch his mother around the middle to hug her. "Thanks for letting Scorpius come over, Mum."
She touched her second child's face. Ginny had never seen Albus as excited as he was these last couple of days. He was shy and reticent with his own cousins, sometimes even with his own siblings. He lacked James' confidence and Lily's curiosity. He suffered from her occasional failures of heart and it hurt her more than she could ever give voice to. "You're welcome, love. Did you thank your father, too?"
Albus grinned. "We all know you run the show, Mum."
Ginny wanted to laugh. She wasn't so sure about that. She hadn't felt like she had taken command of her own destiny since she was sixteen. But Albus was right, she was in charge of something – this household at the very least. She had always felt that it was more of a default position but looking down at her son's happy face, it was hard to argue otherwise. "Why don't you get ready for dinner?
"Okay, Mum. Thanks again." He reached up to her and she leaned down to let him kiss her on the cheek.
The rest of the family returned at a more sedate pace. It seemed like Lily was trying to get James to carry her on his back but he was flatly refusing. "You're my sister, not my wife. I don't have to do anything."
"You have to get ready for dinner," Ginny said, pointing upstairs.
"Yes, Mum," James grumbled, taking Lily's hand.
Harry had already settled at the table. Ginny usually had his usual cup of tea – two bags of Bergamot with milk and sugar – ready for him. Instead, she stood by the table, watching him. He didn't look impatient or particularly expectant but he did look up at her after a moment, when it was clear she hadn't moved.
"Where's the tea?"
"I didn't make it."
"Oh." And he pushed his chair back and got up. He hovered over the stove. It was apparent he didn't know what to do.
Ginny sighed and pushed past him. "Could you get the milk and sugar? I'll make it."
With a few flicks of her wand, she had two cups of tea ready for them. She placed them on the table and sat across from him. Usually, she would set his tea in front of him and then return to the stove but the burnt roast was already sitting on the counter. It wasn't like she could unburn it at this point.
Harry had followed her gaze towards dinner. "I'm sure it's tender on the inside."
Ginny let out a quick bark of laughter. Harry could never be honest about these kind of things. She supposed that she should be thankful he had put up with nearly fifteen years of poor cooking without complaint.
"Astoria invited you to dinner."
Ginny turned quickly back to Harry. "What? Why would she do that?"
Harry was frowning at the milk and sugar before him. Ginny reached over and grabbed his chipped cup. She poured in the proportions he liked. It seemed to help Harry refocus on her response.
"Why not? Our sons are friends and she's nice. She knows half your brothers." Harry retrieved his cup from her. "You should get out of the house more."
"I'm busy," she replied automatically. "We have children, if you don't recall."
"I can take them for a few hours."
Ginny looked up at him.
"What? I do that sometimes," he replied, pushing his hand through his hair. It made the ends stick up and Ginny fought down the urge to tap her wand against his head. She knew it wouldn't do anything.
She couldn't tell Harry that she didn't want to be friends with Astoria Malfoy, that she couldn't' be friends with her any more than she could face Draco Malfoy today. It was terribly un-Gryffindor of her to hide away in the kitchen when the Malfoys came by to pick up their son – it was odd to think that the last time she had acted in an un-Gryffindor fashion, it had been with and for Draco Malfoy.
"They seem to be an odd pair," she said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. She frowned though – she hadn't meant to talk about Draco and his wife.
"Malfoy and Astoria?"
Ginny shrugged in response, not looking up at her husband.
"I suppose but they work. No marriage is perfect anyway."
"Well, he seems to care for her," Ginny offered, wondering if Harry was making a vague comment about marriage or not.
Harry laughed. He had to put down his cup before replying, "C'mon, Gin, I know none of us were particularly keen about Slytherins when we were in school but give Malfoy some credit. I would say he loves her."
He lifted his cup to take a sip while Ginny picked up a spoon, dipped it in her tea and stirred with great restraint. She wondered when the children would come down. Albus was usually the first one in the kitchen when they didn't have any guests – other than Scorpius it seemed – so she listened for his hurried steps, knowing it would drown out the beating of her heart when she thought of Draco's hushed voice whispering about love.