The Good Son

Chapter Thirteen

Love and Vengeance

Percy Weasley yawned loudly as he floo'ed home from work, worn out from a long day at The Department of International Magical Co-Operation, of which he was the Head. He was home late, as was usual this time of the year, and was not surprised to find the living room empty. No doubt Audrey and his daughter Molly had already gone to bed and his second daughter Lucy was at Hogwarts. It made him feel old when he thought of it, that Molly was already married and that Lucy had but two years left at school before she graduated. When had his girls grown up?

Molly was currently staying with them whilst her husband – an auror – was away on a mission in Russia.

He sighed wearily, helping himself to the cup of tea that had been left out for him on the kitchen counter, enchanted with a heating charm so that it did not cool whilst it sat waiting for him. It never failed to bring a smile to his lips, that even if Audrey had retired for the night she left out his evening tea. Dinner was less of a worry, due to his late hours he often ate at the Ministry canteen. The matron there, Martha, was a sturdy, old woman oddly reminiscent of his mother; she was forever trying to "fatten him up" because he looked "a tad peaky."

Family was the most important thing in the world to Percy these days, especially after his less than admirable actions during the war. It still haunted him at night, that his father and brothers; Bill, George and Ron had all nearly died whilst he was behaving like a prat. He hadn't been there when they needed him, so after the dust had cleared and the war had been won he had made a promise to himself that he would always be there for his family in the future. He had been sympathetic to Albus until Harry had filled the family in on his errant son's actions – despicable behaviour – and Percy had believed him because after all, Harry was Harry and he was beyond reproach on such matters.

He had never been so morally torn as when Ron had been convicted of murder. Percy knew the law, having helped write a great many of them over the past twenty years but he also knew that Ron was his brother – his family. He couldn't turn his back on him, no matter the crime, because he had turned his back once and Fred had died before he could fully make things right. So he dared not alienate Ron and had made amends for his own betrayal during the war by using his standing as a Department Head to lighten his brother's sentence.

He didn't feel better for it, instead of relief that he had helped his brother; all that filled him was bitterness for the man who had put him in such a situation.

The cup was empty, it was time for bed, Percy rose and made for the stairs. As he reached the upper storey, he could not resist the temptation to check in on his daughter. It was a fatherly habit, deeply ingrained over the years from having raising two girls; he knew his brothers did the same. He peeked in through the door and his heart dropped from his chest.

There was Molly, slumped across the floor, her chest still – she wasn't breathing – her eyes bulbous and glassy. He rushed to her side, shouting for his wife as he pumped his daughter's chest, trying to restart her lungs. Absently, he remembered he was a wizard and pointed his wand at her, yelling, "Enervate," loudly and hysterically.

She was still and unresponsive. Audrey was there, he was unaware that she had come in but he vaguely noted that she was crying, clutching at their late daughter and screaming in anguish. Her screams didn't affect him; he was staring at the chocolate frog wrapper in Molly's hand. Taking it, noticing the smudge of chocolate on his daughters blue lips, his body burned with fury and grief as he read the card.

Instead of a picture of a famous witch of wizard, Claire Williams stared blankly up at him.

Where it should have a brief biography, all it had was a single sentence written in a flowing black scrawl.

So your family knows what it is to bury a daughter.

-Sophia Williams

(*)(*)(*)

"That was extremely stupid," said Xavier, glaring at the middle-aged woman who stood petulantly facing him.

"She was my daughter!" snarled Sophia, her blonde hair streaked with grey as she turned lividly on the Outcast before her.

"Albus is furious Sophia," said Xavier, not giving ground. He could understand her anger and her decision to take retribution – but signing her name – a petty act of vengeance but all the same, the Williams family were very public in their support for the Outcasts. No doubt Harry would use this to his advantage and attempt to turn people against their movement.

"Then why are you here? To punish me?" she asked incredulously, her mark twitching uncomfortably against her skin.

"Of course not," scoffed Xavier, "I am here because he sent me here to warn you. You need to go into hiding Sophia; you and your entire family." The original Outcasts had since become Albus' lieutenants in maintaining their ever growing numbers, their marks now carried a silver outline to signify that they ranked higher than the average Outcast. Their movement was to be a bloodless one, Albus and Hermione had both decreed that to gain the equality they deserved they needed to be regarded as saviours and not oppressors. They were not the death eaters, who murdered and pillaged for their own satisfaction. They were the Outcasts; and although they used dark magic as a tool, their goal was to achieve a world in which there was no prejudiced bigotry rather than the genocide Voldemort had fought for.

Unfortunately, several of the older families who had suffered the most were more than willing to fight fire with fire. The Williams Family were chief amongst them.

"Why would we do that?" asked Sophia with a raised eyebrow, "If the Aurors come to arrest me they will no doubt lock me in Azkaban. I will become just another martyr for the cause."

"No you won't," laughed Xavier without humour, "We have our contacts in the Auror Office, Old Scarhead wants your heads on a plate. No doubt he will have a cover story all ready, but rest assured Sophia, if you do not run you will all be dead by dawn."

Sophia blanched at his dry tone, and the mirthless way in which he blandly described her fate.

"We'll leave immediately," she said hurriedly, "But where too?" She had other children to protect and her husband to think of, her husband who had been innocent and unknowing of her vendetta.

"Ireland . . . or France," said Xavier after a moment's thought, "Somewhere out of Potter's jurisdiction but near enough so that we can contact you if need be."

He turned on his heel, shaking his head at the woman's stupidity – going after the Weasley's of all people – before he apparated back to the apartment he shared with Kat. The couple hadn't wanted to live in either of their parents mansions and had thus purchased a spacious penthouse in muggle London. He had been asleep when Albus' patronus had reached him and sent him in to do the damage control whilst Hugo – newly graduated from Hogwarts and working at the Ministry – did what he could to corrupt the tracking spell Harry had on all notable pure-blood families in Britain, especially those he believed where in league with the Outcasts.

"Are they gone?" asked Kat from her side of the bed as he sat on the edge of his, not ready to sleep yet. As always, she had waited up for him to return.

"They're leaving immediately," he said, "But that woman very nearly destroyed our entire cause because she acted without thinking of the consequences. If Ms. Weasley hadn't floo-called Albus to let him know about his cousin's death, we'd all be rotting in Azkaban by dawn."

"You shouldn't worry so much," said Kat, rising from the bed and rubbing his shoulders.

"You don't worry enough Kat," he replied as she worked out the tension in his shoulders.

"True," she said, as she laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his chest, "Because I have you to do all the worrying for me."

"What would I do without you?" he sighed, turning slightly to kiss her on her cheek.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia smiled as she walked through the gardens of Malfoy Manor, her hand clasped around her lover's wrist. The past few weeks had been difficult for them both, what with the William's family scandal among other things but at the same time a lot of good had been accomplished. Her father had finally taken back the reins of the family business, and though he had been appalled at the state of affairs, he had agreed that she had done the best she could. It had been her alone holding up Malfoy Holdings for the past two months, ever since Lily had left the country Scorpius had been a volatile wreck. Hermione had been too busy caring for Draco and managing her own business interests to be able to offer significant assistance, other than managing her personal department that is. Rose and Hugo didn't work for the business, they both had jobs at Gringotts and The Ministry respectively and Albus was too busy managing the potions department and the Outcasts to be much help either. Nevertheless she had prevailed, thanking her lucky stars that she if the stress turned her hair grey, it wouldn't be noticeable because of her natural hair colour.

It was days like this that she enjoyed the most though, when it was just her and Albus, free from all the cares and worries of the world. The two of them, like it had been back in the days when they first began dating, in secluded corridors or by the shores of the Black Lake, in that hidden cove that only they knew.

"I love you," she said, out of the blue and breaking the companionable silence. He grinned nervously at her, "I love you too Cassie," he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek before leading her on, stopping only when they reached her favourite part of the grounds, her grandmother Narcissa's rose garden. Narcissa had planted them during her husband's time in Azkaban, nurturing them as she herself slowly lost the will to live. They bloomed around her, perfectly trimmed bushes of pure white and jet black; the black roses had always been Cass' favourite though. It had taken Narcissa years to achieve that particular shade, slowly cultivating and enchanting till the petals were sable and the leaves were silver, creating an ethereal wonderland, just out of sight of the Manor itself. The delicate scents of the flowers filled her nostrils; she closed her eyes as she savoured them . . . only then noticing how jittery her boyfriend seemed.

"Are you ok?" she asked, chuckling as he started, not stung in the slightest that he seemed to have forgotten she was there. He did that sometimes, whenever he was really nervous or thoughtful. She wondered what had him on edge today though.

"Just nervous," he answered, smiling at her as his hand delved into his pocket. She raised an eyebrow, not knowing why he didn't been able to meet her eyes. Then he dropped to one knee and everything made sense, the nervousness, the long walk to her favourite part of the grounds, the shyness, the over-protectiveness he had had towards his hidey-holes in his bedroom – their bedroom, seeing as she rarely slept in her own anymore. Butterflies erupted inside her, to hell with that, Cassiopeia felt as if she had the entire zoo was rampaging through her.

"Cassiopeia Astoria Malfoy, you once told me that you were named after a constellation. So last night I looked into the sky, and while I was looking for your stars, I matched each other star with a reason for why I loved you. I was actually doing really good until I ran out of stars. Which isn't the stars fault, it's just that I love you so much that it hurts and that there are too many reasons to name. Because you're strong and beautiful and intelligent and caring and I can go on and on until I run out of positive adjectives because you're every single one of them, you're my best friend Cass, my shoulder to cry on, the one person I can always count on, you're the love of my life. My everything; and as long as you're holding my hand, I could conquer the entire world with the other. So Cass, will you marry me?"

Cassiopeia smiled down at him, clasping her hands onto his shoulders and drawing him to his feet, tears in her eyes.

"Yes," she managed, before kissing him as passionately as she could.

(*)(*)(*)

"We have a new son-in-law," smirked Draco as he settled back down on the recliner, grinning as he straightened the telescope they had mounted to the banisters of their bedroom balcony specifically for looking at the stars. Since recovering from his incarceration, he had begun channelling his rage and anger into something productive – helping Albus build his forces and use his business connections to grease palms and influence other major power players to change sides or take a stance of neutrality at the very least. He also had begun training in duelling again, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to go head to head with the Weasel. Ordinarily, Hermione would have been less than impressed with her husband's thirst for vengeance, but seeing as Ron had stabbed her daughter and put her son in a state of depression for a year she was preparing for the very same duel. Albus, Scorpius and Hugo had a bet going as to who would get to Ron first when the fighting inevitably broke out. Albus would prefer a peaceful takeover but knowing Ron and Harry, they would no doubt put up a fight.

"Have you been spying on them again?" asked Hermione amused, looking up from her novel and raising her eyebrow at her husband.

"I was merely inspecting our telescope and they happened to catch my eye," he protested, finally raising his hands in surrender when she didn't drop her amused expression. "Fine, I was wondering why he's been so on edge these past few days and then I saw him slip the ring box in his pocket when I passed their room," he admitted.

"So you decided to spy on him proposing?" asked Hermione, barely managing to suppress her laughter.

"I was bored," he said, looking distinctly ruffled now that she stopped trying to reign in her laughter and was nearly in hysterics. Shaking his head at her, muttering, "women!" under his breath, he reached out to look back at the telescope.

"Don't!" gasped Hermione, choking slightly as she tried to talk while laughing.

"Why not!" he said indignantly, "I want to see what happens next."

"Draco," she said in as serious a voice as she could muster, "Do you remember what we did after you proposed?" Draco flushed red and relinquished his grasp on the telescope in horror, suddenly not very interested in seeing what his daughter and future son-in-law were doing. Contrary to all evidence, he sternly maintained that Cassiopeia and Rose were still virgins.

"Mothers rose bushes," he suddenly gasped, causing Hermione to erupt into a fresh fit of laughter, "Oh she must be rolling in her grave."

"It's your father you should be worried about," giggled Hermione, before proceeding to take on an incredibly aristocratic and haughty tone:

"Draco Malfoy, married to a mudblood," Draco frowned when she called herself that, but she just shrugged it off, "Four children, two of whom are half-bloods that were born out of wedlock and raised as Weasley's for half their lives. His pureblood granddaughter now engaged to a Potter, who lives in the Manor as well. His pureblood grandson fathering a child out of wedlock by the sister of the aforementioned Potter . . . oh the scandal, a travesty I tell you."

Draco laughed in agreement, shaking his head fondly as he contemplated his wife.

He had made many mistakes in his life, but perhaps his greatest one to date was not marrying her in the first place. Instead, they had let pure-blood tradition and The Ministry dictate their lives, and while he had come to love and respect Astoria for giving him his two children; he often wondered how things would have turned out if Hermione and he had got together sooner, and she had mothered all four of his children.

It didn't matter now though, what mattered is that they were together now.

(*)(*)(*)

"Hard day?" asked Francesca sympathetically as Hugo arrived at the muggle cafeteria they both met at every Thursday afternoon. Her hours as a trainee healer were long and gruelling, Thursdays were her only day off so it was the only time she could see Hugo, who she had become quite close to as she helped him through his grief for Claire.

"Yup," Hugo popped the P, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a hoody, a far cry from the usual formal suit he wore to work. He was following his mother's footsteps into magical law, but found the robes stifling and uncomfortable so opted for using muggle three piece suits, something she thought he looked quite fetching in.

"What happened?" she asked, as a waitress deposited their usual order on the table. They had been coming here so long the woman no longer needed to ask their orders, she knew it by heart: One black coffee, no sugar no foam for Francesca; one large cream-soda for Hugo; a serving of three-cheese lasagne for both.

"Harry has me working the archives again," he sighed, the one thing he hated about his career was that, though he worked as a legal representative for the Department of Magical Sports and Games, Harry had full control over all ministry employees working in law.

"Victoire had me on call for three days straight," sighed Francesca, "I swear, we thought that when she became head of the hospital we would have it easier."

"At least Vic is fair," pointed out Hugo, "She doesn't care that you're a Slytherin." The previous head of the hospital was a very bigoted individual who thought the Slytherin healers more likely to poison the patients than heal them and had treated them very poorly.

"Still," she groaned, "I'm running on less than four hours sleep here."

"Then why'd you come?" he asked her curiously, "It's your one day off, you should have spent it catching up on sleep."

"We always meet on Thursdays," she reminded him pointedly, "How could I break tradition?"

"Easily," added Hugo wryly, wondering why her cheeks were tinged pink, "You need to rest Fran, I don't see why you go out of your way just to see me."

"Oh Merlin," Francesca rolled her eyes. Really, could you get anymore oblivious than that. She plucked up her non-existent Slytherin courage and took a deep breath before leaning across the table and pressing her lips softly against his. "That's why you moron!" she said, pulling away after a few seconds.

"Oh," he said, his own pale cheeks flushed pink as well now, before grinning and leaning in for another.

(*)(*)(*)

James groaned as his partner, Olivia Weasley (his cousin-in-law through her marriage to Fred), dropped another load of paperwork on his desk. He had been buried in administration for the past week and it was beginning to get on his nerves – this was the Head Aurors job – not his. He was a fully qualified field auror, he was not supposed to be dealing with their budgets and memorandums. Then again, the Head Auror was a convicted murderer whom he had long since lost all respect for; he tried to avoid his Uncle Ron as much as possible. But this was ridiculous! Just because he was related to the man did not mean he could push his duties on him.

"Trust me, I know the feeling," grumbled Olivia, "He had me overseeing the dealings with the German Aurors last week despite it being his bloody job!" She scowled as she went back to her own desk and began leafing through her own stack of paperwork.

"Does he seriously expect me to review the entire Azkaban budget?" asked James incredulously as he skimmed through the topmost folder Olivia had left on his desk.

"It appears so," said Joshua, James' former dorm-mate and long time friend as he pushed open the door. Josh had completed his healer training at St. Mungo's before applying to the Auror department as a field-healer. He also stood to become another member of James' extended family due to his relationship with Louis Weasley – they had been dating on and off since Josh's fifth year. He made up the third member of their team of four, the fourth being a reclusive curse breaker who went by the name of Griff.

"He has me working the budgets for our ward at St. Mungo's," added Josh as he settled down at his desk and pulled on his glasses, rolling his eyes at their boss's ineptitude. James was appalled, the funding for their ward was already woefully short and any further decrease would probably cause the hospital to tear up their contract with the Auror office. What was his uncle thinking?

"This is ridiculous, I'm going to have a word with him," declared James as he got to his feet angrily, stomping his way out of the office.

He noticed that his squad wasn't the only one being buried alive in paperwork; every office he passed had the aurors scribbling away rather than on active duty. It had been that way for nearly six months now, the younger aurors were benched and the older ones, whom his uncle favoured because they had fought in the war with him but who like him had gone to seed, got all the credit for the youngsters grunt work. He had honestly had enough.

He didn't bother knocking as he barged into Ron's office, squaring his shoulders and marching towards the older man, before forcefully slamming the pile of paperwork down on his desk. He noted with disgust that his uncle reeked of alcohol.

"This is your responsibility," he barked, "I am not an intern, nor am I the boss!"

"I delegated these assignments to you," said Ron as he attempted at a haughty sneer, which gave him the look of a constipated dragon, "I am much too busy."

"Doing what?" scowled James, "You haven't done anything except sign the papers the rest of us have been sorting out for the past six months!"

"James, you may be my nephew but this borders on insubordination," Ron said in a superior tone, "I am the Head Auror and I decide who does what around here!"

"Get your act together then! I am bloody sick of you running this division into the ground, at least when my father was in charge things actually got done!" yelled James, "And do your own paperwork because I sure as hell am not going to be doing it anymore!" He turned on his heel and left, not bothering to wait for his uncle's response when suddenly, just as reached the first set of doors in the corridor. . .

"THEN YOU'RE FIRED!" bellowed Ron, lurching out of his office. James noticed his fellow aurors leave their offices at the noise at stare at the scene.

"No problem!" called back James brazenly, even though it stung that he had just lost his job. It didn't matter in the long run though, he was a fully trained auror, he had relatively good results in his NEWTs and his surname was Potter. There were dozens of jobs open to him and frankly under his uncles leadership being an auror wasn't all it had cracked up to be.

"Wait . . . you're firing him?" asked Olivia incredulously, "For reminding you to do your job?" Her face hardened, "I'd like to hand in my resignation sir." James turned to look at her through widened eyes, "Don't be a hero Liv," he muttered under his breath.

"Don't worry about it," she grinned, "Fred and his dad have been pestering me to take a job at Weasley Wizard Wheezes since I married him."

"Head Healer Lupin did say that anytime I wanted to get my old job at St. Mungo's back, all I had to do was ask," chimed in Joshua suddenly, "I'll be resigning as well Ronnie." He winked at the portly man who spluttered in rage as one by one, at least fifty of the other auror's came to stand beside James, offering over their resignations. Those that remained, mainly the senior aurors and a few of the less courageous ones stepped back – though a few looked willing to join them in protest as well. James was overwhelmed by this show of solidarity.

"Too my uncle ladies and gentlemen," smirked James, an expression eerie reminiscent of his younger brother playing on his face, "The man who single-handedly crippled the auror department!" before turning on his heel and stalking away, closely followed by those who had chosen to leave.

Auror Griff smirked as he stood beside the few who had opted to remain with the department, his mark tingling slightly beneath its concealing charm, smugly wondering how best to break the news to Albus that the ministry had just lost its main fighting core.

(*)(*)(*)

"I'm in Egypt next month," called Rose from the bathroom, kneading her strawberry shampoo through her blonde hair. As a curse breaker for Gringotts she usually found herself being offered jobs internationally for the bank, often to exotic locales to break ancient wards and curses to recover long lost treasure. Even though she didn't take all of them because she preferred staying close to home, some jobs came with such a high reward that she couldn't bring herself to turn them down. The current assignment, involving a centuries old tomb in the Valley of the Kings, promised her one tenth of the value of whatever she recovered, to be paid directly into her account. Such payment often came fraught with risk because if she didn't succeed she would end up coming home with nothing.

Rose was however very good at her job and accumulated a sizable fortune at Gringotts, nowhere near her mother or father's fortunes but it was still quite a formidable sum. As such she found herself abroad at least once every two to three months.

"Mexico," called Delphin from their room, like Xavier and Kat they had recently purchased an apartment for themselves. It wasn't as large as their friends, but this was due to both of them being out of the country on a regular basis. "Luna's convinced that she may finally find a Thunderbird," he rolled his eyes. He found himself on foreign soil on a more frequent basis than his girlfriend, especially with his boss's fixation on creatures he quite frankly didn't believe existed. However, after Luna had scientifically proved the existence of treants – sentient trees – he always gave her theories a certain level of credence. Even if the hunt for the Loch Ness Monster last year had been a complete waste of their time, involving a lot of mucking about the Scottish lochs and living in tents – Luna had eventually called of the expedition when her husband demanded she return home.

Rose sighed as she stepped into the room, clad in just her silky bathrobe, her hair still wet, "We hardly ever have time for just the two of us these days."

"I know love," he said, sitting on the bed, "But my apprenticeship ends in six months and then I'll probably be basing myself here permanently. I love my job but Merlin, I can do without the travelling." It was true; he was considering working at the local magical creature sanctuary once his apprenticeship with Luna ended. As much as enjoyed working with magical creatures, there was only so much he could stomach when it came to living in the wilderness.

"I just have a year at Gringotts till my contract expires," she said with a wry smile, goblin-made contracts were binding and it was worth your life to try and break one. "I don't think I want to renew it though, I'm thinking of joining the Guild." The guild was a division of her father's company that was devoted to investigating and unlocking the ancient magical sites of Wizarding Britain, composed mainly of Curse-Breakers. The timing of her expiring contract with the bank coincided nicely with the beginning of their new project, a full blown attempt into breaking the wards surrounding Stonehenge so that they could gain entry to the fabled catacombs below.

"And it's not like we're going to get married or anything," she continued slightly bitterly, "I have no illusions that you're going to settle for a barren witch."

His jaw dropped in shock as he rose from the bed and came up beside her and enveloped her in a tight hug, "I'm not settling for you Rose," he said honestly, "I'm with you because I love you."

"I can't give you children or a family Delphin," she said, the bitterness now thick in her voice, "Why would you want a damaged witch like me."

"Never call yourself that again," he said sternly, though his voice was heavy with emotion as he held her, "I love you Rose, it doesn't matter to me if we can't have children. We have each other, that's all that matters."

He slid his hand into her robe and caressed her scars, where the knife had buried itself into her womb three times over. "These scars just show you're brave, they show that you've overcome something no one should have to. I love you Rose, imperfections, flaws and all."

"I love you too Del," she said softly, clinging on to him for dear life and sobbing softly into his shoulder. She had needed to hear those words from his lips, she just hadn't realised how much till now.