It was too good to be true, obviously. It always was. There was this bothersome fear in Harry's chest all through the speech and the day leading up to it. He'd had this feeling like something was going to go wrong, only he didn't know if it was the speech itself, the attendees, or something more drastic.
Hermione had offered to take Teddy back to the Burrow and told Harry and Draco not to be too long, since Molly and Arthur had planned a special dinner for them as congratulations. Well, they'd certainly missed that, hadn't they?
As soon as Hermione had Apparated away with Teddy, Harry had turned to look at Draco only to find that it wasn't Draco standing next to him any longer, but someone he didn't know at all. A man with a large handlebar mustache looked him straight in the eye and said, "You're perpetuating disease and filth! You, Harry Potter, are no saviour of mine!" Then he'd flicked his hidden wand so quickly that Harry had had no time to react. When he'd awoken he was within four white walls on a stiff bed with just as comfortable white sheets.
"Ah, you're awake," a mediwitch said as she strolled into the room, looking much more spirited than Harry felt. The moment he'd opened his eyes he had a throbbing pain radiating throughout his entire body. "You're at St. Mungo's. I'm Healer Alden and my favourite colour is green. How are you feeling?"
"Shite," Harry said simply, feeling in no mood to put a front up for the staff.
"I'd imagine you do," she said with a giggle. "You're Harry Potter, remember?"
"Er… yes?" His throat felt dryer than Hagrid's biscuits and he was in no mood for jokes about the danger he was constantly in. "Water, please."
"Right, my apologies." Healer Alden summoned a paper cup that matched the decor splendidly— white— and filled it with water from her wand.
"You do remember that you're Harry Potter, correct?" She responded with a mildly concerned look that vanished with the nod of Harry's head from behind his cup. "Good. I had to be sure. It looks like your attacker used Ulcus Suffocantum, which is basically a combination of the Blood Boiling Curse and the Choking Curse. Thankfully whoever created this curse was a poor inventor, because those two combined cancel out the intensity of each other, for the most part. Took us ages to figure out the incantation used. It's a new one, apparently, because I've never heard of it and I thought I'd seen everything. You hit your head pretty hard when you landed, from what Mr. Malfoy told us. In fact, we had to mend your head but it's still a bit fragile back there, so be careful washing your hair for a while. Do me a favor and tell me three major facts about your life."
"I defeated Voldemort, I live with my boyfriend Draco Malfoy, we share guardianship over Teddy Lupin. How long ago did I get here?" He really wished it didn't feel as though he were speaking with tacks in his throat.
"About thirty hours ago." Taking the clipboard that was sitting on his bedside table, she made a few notes. "Alright, so no major memory loss. Healer Dales will be here in a bit to do a full diagnostic screening, of course. You're lucky the curse didn't hit you a bit lower or your heart would've stopped. So that's two strikes on the Potter's Lucky to be Alive And Fully Intact Part II, Post War list." She paused to take his empty cup from him and poured a thick, brown potion that she'd pulled from her pocket into it. "Drink up, it's probably the only thing that'll make your throat feel better. He got you square in the jugular. I'm honestly surprised you're speaking at all. Mr. Malfoy said you'd stopped breathing, but the counter to the Choking Curse is pretty well known, lucky you. He got you breathing again in no time and brought you straight here. You're lucky, yet again, he was so close by when it happened. Your parents should've named you Felix, with all the luck you've got."
"It hurts to talk," Harry told her honestly in his rasping voice. He took the proffered paper cup and gulped its contents, not minding that it tasted like rancid milk because it really did soothe his throat. "Where's Draco now? Can I see him?" His voice sounded better, too, and speaking wasn't quite so painful
"Soon enough, dear," she said calmly as she used the same cup to pour yet another potion in, this time tan rather than brown. "This is to heal any internal bleeding that may be occuring still. We've given you a few of these, but we'd like to be sure it's stopped completely." He drank the second potion only to be given a third. "And Blood Replenishing Potion, of course."
"Can I please see Draco?" he asked again. He knew that Draco would be frantic, wondering how he was doing and probably pacing the halls waiting to be told he could finally visit.
"Just as soon as Healer Dales has done your diagnostics screening," she said with an understanding smile. "He's been in already to see you, so he knows you're stable. He's actually gone to drop Teddy off with a relative, so he's not here at the moment."
"Oh," Harry muttered, disappointed that Draco had left. He was glad, however, that Draco was at least doing something other than pacing back and forth in the waiting room. "Okay."
"Rest, it'll help you heal quicker. Before I go, mind telling me what my name is again?"
"Healer Alden," Harry replied easily. She grinned, satisfied that he'd remembered.
"What's my favourite colour?"
That one took Harry a few seconds, but then he did recall the seemingly useless bit of information that she'd imparted with him at the start of their conversation. "Green."
"Short term seems to be in order as well. My, my, how lucky you are."
Harry was glad she'd gone. Sure, she was better than some of the other healers— they liked to fawn over him and were easily distracted from treating his injuries— but he really was sick of being told how lucky he was. He already knew. He took the quiet time to reflect on the last moments before he'd lost consciousness. If he could keep the man's face in the forefront of his mind he could probably give his description to the Aurors and have him arrested. Hell, he might be arrested already. There were too many people there for him to have gone unnoticed. Then again, there had been fireworks, so maybe they had all been too distracted to notice.
Harry's introspection was interrupted by the door to his room opening once more, admitting a short man who looked like the male version of Umbridge. Harry wondered if they were related in some way, and hoped that if they were that this person didn't have the same mannerisms as she did. He looked at the healer warily as the man smiled at him and approached the bed.
"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Potter," Healer Dales said as he picked up the clipboard Healer Alden had been writing on. "Good, good, good," he mumbled as he read her notes. Looking back up at Harry, he asked, "You're feeling…?"
"Better than I did when I first woke up. Healer Alden gave me a number of potions."
"Yes, she made note of that as well," he said as he nodded. "What would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, one being barely there and ten being 'kill me now?'" Harry wondered if there was a stipulation to becoming a healer, that they all needed naturally morbid senses of humour to pass their schooling.
"Probably a four." Healer Dales made another note on the clipboard, then set it down and took his wand from his sleeve.
"If you could, please hold your arms out over the edge of the bed and spread your legs as well."
Harry did as he was told and watched as the diagnostics spell wrapped around him. He was taken back to the day he and Draco had come here to get Teddy and realised he hadn't written to Andromeda in a very long time. Guilt seeped into his already bad mood, bringing it down to another level of abysmal.
"Looks like your internal bleeding has completely ceased, our healing charms are holding up nicely, and your throat is doing much, much better. You should be able to leave today, at some point."
"Really?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Yes," Healer Dales said with an odd sounding chuckle. "Mr. Malfoy asked me to inform you that he's gone to bring Teddy to Molly Weasley's house and he'll be back within the hour. He also asked me to keep you awake, but I could promise no such thing. Sleep does wonders for the healing process, you know."
"Healer Alden told me the same thing," Harry said. He didn't feel tired at all, but when Healer Dales left he did find himself drifting off.
It had been over forty five minutes since Draco had returned to the hospital and yet no one was letting him in to see Harry. The bored looking receptionist had told him he'd gone back to sleep and shouldn't be woken early because sleeping was so good for him at the moment. Draco understood this— really he did— but all he could think about since the speech was the way Harry had looked as he lay on the ground behind the group of people who had come to hear him, a halo of blood spreading around his head and his eyes bulging. His face had begun to turn colours and he was choking, but Draco couldn't get whatever was lodged in his throat to get out. It had taken him too long to realise that it wasn't a physical thing Harry was choking on, but the Choking Curse, or some variation of it. The healers said otherwise and had told Draco he'd figured it out just in the knick of time, but that didn't prevent him from feeling he could've done better, sooner.
For longer than Draco could comprehend, but probably a much shorter time than he realised, he thought he was going to lose Harry. He'd truly looked as though he was a goner. He probably would've been, had Draco not thought to bring him to St. Mungo's immediately after countering the Choking Curse. At least, that's what Healer Dales had told him.
Harry had required mending at the back of his head, some mild reconstruction to his skull, and internal bleeding prevention. His arm had been dislocated with the force of the curse that struck him, but that was probably the least worrisome thing out of all Harry's injuries. Healer Dales had told him that Harry may need physical therapy to strengthen the muscles keeping his shoulder from dislocating again, but that otherwise he would heal just fine with rest and lots of water.
Draco was becoming incredibly impatient, even with the news of Harry's improved condition. The last time he'd seen his unconscious lover his eyes couldn't stop watering and even Teddy had figured something was wrong. He'd begun whimpering at the sight of Harry in the hospital bed and that was when Draco had decided to take him elsewhere. Really, a hospital was no place for a baby.
"Draco?" He spun around at the sound of his mother's voice in the waiting room.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise tinting his voice.
"I've received a letter about Andromeda's condition, being one of her only relatives," Narcissa explained. "It seems she will live after all."
"What?! Why wasn't I informed? I'm taking care of her grandson, why wouldn't they tell me?"
"We were actually just about to give you this letter, Mr. Malfoy." Into the waiting room came Healer Julian, the man who'd explained to them about Andromeda when she'd first fallen sick and had treated her this whole time. He held a letter in his hand and offered it to Draco. "Andromeda has been on the mend for quite a while, but we wanted to be sure it wasn't a false improvement before we contacted you about it," he explained.
"So, wait… She's not dying?" Draco asked, his voice sounding restricted.
"As far as we can tell— and we've checked more times than I could possibly count— she is not dying. In fact, her pustules are nearly gone. We have to wait until they've completely gone and then give her physical rehabilitation to release her completely, but once the pustules are gone she can begin outpatient treatment."
Draco felt his fear and agitation about not being able to see Harry subside a bit as it was replaced with the thick, powerful relief about Andromeda's condition. Narcissa came to stand beside him and placed a comforting hand on his back, something he couldn't recall her ever doing in public before. It was welcome, regardless of anything else that had happened between them and the strangeness of her action.
"May we see my sister?" she asked the healer kindly.
"I'm afraid not," he replied with regret. "As long as she's got the pustules we're afraid she may be contagious. All the scans have come back saying she isn't, but no healer or study of the disease can explain how Spattergroit is contracted. The pustules, for all we know, could contain the virus itself, so we can't take any chances no matter what her scans tell us."
"Thank you for your honestly, Healer," Narcissa replied with a nod of her head.
"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. The letter, Mr. Malfoy, contains all the information you could want about Mrs. Tonks' current condition and what we expect in the very near future."
"How near?" Draco asked, recovering a bit from the shock of the huge revelation that his aunt was no longer pronounced dying.
"Well, the letter could tell you, but since I'm right here… We have estimated about two or three weeks before she's pustule-free, at the rate their going now."
"And what will this mean for Harry, Teddy and me?" Sudden realisation struck and Draco feared that with Andromeda's recovery he and Harry would lose their new ward. Of course, the situation that would bring that about would be a miracle; it wasn't everyday that people lived to tell the tale of Spattergroit. But it still made Draco feel disappointed. He was happy with Teddy, he enjoyed his small companion. It would be just the way things went, though, that something so good could happen and then something miserable would follow close behind. The speech and Harry's hospitalization being a prime example in recent times.
"I'm just a healer, Mr. Malfoy," Julian explained. "It would be up to Mrs. Tonks what she'd like to do, whether she'd like sole custody back. She's able to write again, though that's also a new development, so maybe you should ask her yourself."
Draco nodded and watched as the healer walked through the doors to the hospital rooms beyond. Narcissa continued stroking small circles between his shoulder blades and he leaned into her for comfort.
"I don't want to lose Teddy," he said quietly, "But I'm so thankful Andromeda will survive."
"You're so young, Draco. Would it truly be so bad to have the freedom most eighteen-year-olds have? I know you love Teddy, but certainly it would make it much easier on you if Annie were his caretaker." Draco knew his mother was just trying to be comforting, but he still hated what she was saying. He took a deep breath and controlled his overwrought emotions.
"I'm not the same as most eighteen-year-olds," he told her. "Even without Teddy I don't think I'd be able to go out and drink with friends without being attacked by someone who won't let my past go."
"That may be true, but you've got your whole life ahead of you. One day you and Harry may want a child of your own." Teddy already feels like my child, Draco thought.
"And how would we go about doing that? You do realise neither of us has a uterus. Or any of the other reproductive organs required by the opposite sex to create a baby." Narcissa looked at him as though he were being a difficult child.
"Adoption, Draco. Or a surrogate child. People have done this before, you and Harry could, too." But Draco didn't want to. He wanted Teddy, the child he'd already come to think of as almost his own, the child he'd already grown to love more than most people.
"Right," Draco said, not wanting to continue the conversation or argue about it.
"You've yet to explain why you are here," Narcissa pointed out, changing the topic. "Did something happen?"
"Harry was attacked last night after his speech," he said, and the mean glare he'd worn every time he thought of the event returned to his face. "He was hospitalised. I'm waiting to be able to see him. I would go and see Aunt Andromeda, but, well…"
"Yes, it seems we'll both have to wait for that." Narcissa sounded disappointed, though Draco was under the impression she still wanted very little to do with her sister. She'd even referred to her by a nickname that Draco had never heard before, which was unusual on its own and implied the opposite.
"Why do you want to see her?" he asked, hoping she would not evade him.
"Let's sit and talk, shall we? There's a cafeteria downstairs that serves the most delicious lemon meringue pie."
"Better than yours?" he asked as they began walking.
"I'm not one to admit my shortcomings, but since that seems to be all I'm doing lately, yes it is. Whoever they have cooking here has obviously stumbled on a very old recipe. They're practically giving it away, for the price they're charging, too. It should be considered a crime."
They talked of pie recipes and prices, a perfect no-man's-land topic of conversation, all the way to the cafeteria. When they got there Narcissa purchased a slice of pie for each of them, as well as a double shot cappuccino for Draco and a skim latte for herself. Together they sat at a two-seater near one of the large windows and ate their food in a convivial quiet. Only when they'd finished their pie and all moans of deliciousness ceased did Narcissa finally answer Draco's question.
"I've done more thinking," she said with no preamble. "Our family has dwindled. Our views were incorrect to begin with. The reasons for my distancing our family from Annie are now, in my mind, childish and disturbing. If I'd come to this conclusion years ago, perhaps we would not have suffered the way we have. Some lessons are learned the difficult way, and I've learned recently that no amount of hatred or cruelty will keep my family together."
"That seems like common sense to me," Draco muttered without really meaning to say anything at all.
"Doesn't it?" Narcissa smiled a bitter smile, which Draco thought was directed at herself more than at his comment. "I'd like to know my sister again. We used to be so close as children, but as the first war instigated by the Dark Lord loomed closer and sides were forced to be taken… Well, we were not so close after that. Once she married I felt it was a disgrace to our pure family line. How stupid I was.
"Now that I know this, I can't let our distance continue. I do realise that she may not ever forgive me fully for the things I've said to her, or the things I've done. It is something I have known since I began this journey of strengthening my family ties; however, I feel it is important. I miss my sister. She's probably the sanest of all of us and at this point in my life I could use some sanity. I think we all could."
Draco sipped his cappuccino as he reflected on his mother's newfound desire to reconnect with her only living sibling. He remembered how apprehensive he'd been to connect with his aunt and how well it had gone for him once he'd finally gathered enough courage to do so. He had a feeling that Andromeda wouldn't react the same way to Narcissa's wish to be close to her, but then she had just suffered through a disease that nobody tended to live through, so maybe she desired family as well. In fact, the more Draco thought about it the more he was sure she would want all the family she could get, having lost most of hers already and nearly died herself.
"This all came to you through reconnecting with me, didn't it?" he asked bluntly.
"That, and having lost you in the first place due to nothing but my own actions. I'd lost my husband to war and prison, I'd lost my other sister to that same war— though I have to admit I'm… somewhat glad to see her gone, as much as I hate to say it— and I'd lost my son due to my pettiness and bigotry. I've learned many hard truths in the time it's taken me to realise how wrong I've been all these years and I don't intend to sit idly by with the knowledge I now have."
"I'm proud of you." Narcissa's eyebrows raised a fraction at Draco's statement. "I never thought I'd find common ground with you after I started to realise how horrible we were. I feel relieved to know that you're changing."
"It's very strange, hearing my child say something to me that should be coming from my mouth." She picked up her latte and took a long, silent sip, keeping eye contact with him all the while.
"Imagine how strange this is for me, hearing my bigoted mother speak of having ideals opposite to what she raised me thinking," Draco retorted, not unkindly. "It's a good thing. Harry will be glad to know."
"Have you seen him since the accident?"
"It was no accident, that arsehole hurt him on purpose." Narcissa cleared her throat and smirked.
"Have you seen Harry since that arsehole hurt him on purpose?" Draco had chosen the absolute worst time to sip from his cup and wound up spitting cappuccino all down the front of his shirt.
"Did you just say arsehole?" he asked, astounded at his mother's brash language. Narcissa cast a cleaning and drying charm on his shirt. "In public!"
"If you can do it I don't see why I shouldn't," she said, the playful smirk still in place on her lips.
"But… but you've never used that sort of language before." Narcissa giggled at his shock and sipped her latte again. "It sounds so wrong, coming from you."
"You've got a bit of foam on your upper lip, dear."
"No, don't change the subject, I just heard you swear for the first time in my life and I want an explanation," he laughed as he licked the foam from his lip.
"I've sworn once or twice before," she said, sounding mysterious. "With so many changes taking place in my life, I don't see why I shouldn't loosen up a bit. I have been somewhat of a… what's the saying? Ah, yes, an 'uppity bitch.'" Draco's eyes could've popped out of his head at that very moment. "Or, as your father's friends in school used to say, a cold hearted bitch. Ice queen was a kinder term they used, and I have to admit to liking that one. Of course I'd never tell them such a thing." Draco shook his head slowly, doing his best not to let his jaw hang open like an idiot.
"I'm not sure how to feel about this," he said, and counted in his head for a moment. "That's three times you swore, just now, after my entire life never hearing you use bad language."
"You'll get used to it if I can get used to your use of these words," she told him simply. "Now, shall we go and see how your Harry is doing?" Draco nodded, still not sure what to think of the dramatic changes taking place in his mother. Perhaps she was going through some sort of mid-life crisis. That was the only logical explanation Draco could come up with as they made their way up to the first floor, where Harry's room was.
"Mr. Malfoy, I was told to tell you that Mr. Potter is awake again," said the receptionist once he'd entered the room. "You've still got your visitor's pass?" Draco replied in the affirmative and was admitted through the warded doors to the hospital rooms.
"Will I be welcome at his bedside?" Narcissa enquired.
"I don't know, but I guess we'll find out." Draco side-eyed her to gauge how she felt about accompanying him to visit his boyfriend. "You're not worried about him, are you?"
"Not terribly, but I do hope he heals quickly," she told him honestly. That was yet another surprise for Draco; his mother had never expressed her concern, or any of her emotions, so readily and honestly. It usually took either decoding, coaxing, or drink to get her to open up, if she did at all.
They reached Harry's room and Draco knocked lightly before opening the door. Harry was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard, with a tray of food over his thighs. Draco crossed the room quickly and cupped Harry's face, pressing his lips to Harry's soft ones in earnestness that could almost count as desperation. As they kissed, Draco thought he heard his mother clear her throat uncomfortably, but he couldn't quite manage to care what she thought of their affection; he was just glad to see Harry alive.
"You could've let me swallow my food first," Harry said after Draco had stepped back to take a closer look at his boyfriend. "I missed you, too."
"I can handle a mouthful of food pressed against mine if it means I can kiss you at all," Draco snapped. He wasn't upset with Harry, but concerned, and he had a habit of translating his concern into verbal strikes. Thankfully Harry understood this and merely grinned back, a piece of spinach stuck in his front teeth that made Draco think twice about kissing him while eating. "How are you?"
"Much better. I can swallow without wanting to tear my throat out."
"How about your head?" Draco gently pulled Harry's head away from the wall and inspected the area where it was mended. It looked clean and there was no bleeding, so he took that as a good sign.
"There's a bit of throbbing, but I haven't lost any major memories. I don't think I've lost any memories at all, but it's hard to know for sure." Harry glanced over Draco's shoulder and must've seen Narcissa because he said, "Hi."
"Hello, Harry," Narcissa replied politely. "I'm glad to see you're doing well. Draco told me what happened after your speech."
"Yeah, I think I'll be hiring better security next time," he grumbled. "And more of it."
"Next time?" Draco asked. "You're already planning another speech after this?"
"It's not like one speech is going to get the laws changed. I have to keep doing this, even if it does put me at risk. I've got to write a petition next." Draco just shook his head in exasperation. He couldn't disagree with Harry, but so soon after he was attacked it made Draco feel like Harry didn't care that he was in constant danger. After what he'd gone through, though, Draco could understand why this looked like small potatoes by comparison.
"Draco, are you going to share the news of your aunt with Harry?" Narcissa asked from the end of the bed.
"What's wrong with Andromeda?" Harry asked, setting his fork down and taking Draco's hand.
"Actually, there's nothing wrong with her. Well, almost nothing. She's nearly Spattergroit-free. I was just told today by her healer, Julian. He gave me this," Draco said as he pulled the letter from his pocket.
Waiting patiently for Harry to read the long letter, Draco held his hand tightly and eyed the hospital food to make sure there was nothing Harry didn't like to eat in his meal. He found that, surprisingly, the food didn't look all that bad and there were no green beans in sight. Harry had always hated green beans, apparently, but it was a recent discovery to Draco.
"So she'll be released soon! That's excellent! Draco, she's not dying!" Draco smiled, though there was a hint of sadness there and he knew it.
"I know, I've already been filled in," he reminded Harry.
"Right, obviously. Why don't you seem very excited about it?"
"I am! I just… There's a lot to think about now we know that she's going to live. I'm very excited that she's not dying, and I can't wait to be able to see her again." Harry stared at him for a few moments and Draco could see the exact moment when Harry gathered his hidden meaning.
"Oh."
"Yes." Draco sighed. "But we'll think about that later, won't we? You shouldn't be worried about anything right now, you should be celebrating the fact that your speech was a huge success and you weren't killed afterward."
"Was it? Because I sort of feel like I botched it, right toward the end." Harry was being serious, but Draco couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth.
"It was a success, yes." He took that morning's rolled up Prophet from his back pocket and handed it over to Harry with a proud grin.
Harry Potter Fights for Equality!
Harry read the title of Cole's front page article and smiled at the paper in his hands before he looked down at the picture accompanying the title. It was one of him standing in the middle of the stage in his suit trousers and braces, stretching a beseeching hand out toward the crowd and pleading with his eyes as his mouth moved along with his speech. It was a very good picture, Harry admitted to himself.
Last night, in Hogsmeade, history was made, yet again, by Harry Potter as he gave a compelling speech on the imbalances regarding the laws in place for people belonging to the LGBT community. With eloquence and determination in proportionate measures, Potter explained to his audience that there is little difference between different kinds of bigotry, and that we all play a part in changing the future. Injustice affects every one of us, even those of us not being oppressed by it, was part of the message he sent.
Cole went on to quote the better parts of Harry's speech from the night before and briefed those who weren't there that night on what a powerful display he'd made. The second, third, and fourth pages were dedicated to the pictures he'd taken, and Harry could see why he'd made front page news as well as being given half of the newspaper to his photos.
Harry had rarely seen wizard photos in colour in the paper, but it did seem it was possible to take and print them, because Cole had done just that with several of the moving images. Not all were in colour, only the ones that stood out among the rest. Harry had to hand it to Cole; he was a brilliant photographer. He had published two pictures of Harry giving his speech, which was the proper amount, since it probably all looked similar from shot to shot. Cole had also taken one of a disgruntled man in the crowd. He was shouting and Harry could see the strings of spit between his top and bottom rows of teeth. The anger in his eyes was palpable, and underneath the photo Cole had written the caption, "The face of a man stuck in his harmful ways."
The next photo was of the audience raising their hands in the air and shouting their names and respective sexualities and sexes. Harry remembered how happy, yet fierce, they'd all looked, but seeing it captured in black and white made it somehow more beautiful. After that picture was one of the massive snogging fest that had come right after the shouting. That caption read, "A show of love to combat hatred and ignorance."
The second to last picture was of George's fireworks, and Harry was thankful and simultaneously disappointed that Cole hadn't captured the very last bit of the firework show. It was probably for the best anyway; Harry didn't think George had done it for fame or recognition, but for Fred's sake and to honour his memory.
Harry closed his eyes as he watched the last photo play out, sighing in frustration. He wasn't upset with Cole for capturing and publishing a picture of Harry being attacked in broad daylight, but he was not pleased to see if from an outside perspective. Harry opened his eyes to see his photograph self being flung back about fifteen metres and landing like a ragdoll on the cobblestone road. The caption read, "Uncalled-for violence cuts the night short as Potter is injured by an unhinged homophobic man."
"Doesn't mince words, does he?" Harry said with a chuckle, resigned to the fact that this was important to be documented, even if he didn't want to see it.
"No, and I think he phrased it quite nicely. I've always like the word unhinged," Draco remarked thoughtfully. "He's definitely a good pick, Harry."
"I knew he would be." He looked to Narcissa, who had found a place to sit on one of the white stools near the door. "What do you think of all this?" he asked, lifting the paper to signify what he was referring to.
"I think that you were placed in the House of Gryffindor for very good reason, with all the bravery you show," she said with a raised brow. "I also think that, since you plan to do this again, you may want to provide yourself with better protection than just security guards. They can only do so much against a mob of angry people, should there be one." Harry's brows tilted down in the middle at her concern for his safety. He'd expected her to comment on the speech itself, not what had resulted from the speech.
"Right… Yeah, I'll do that," he said.
"She's been strange today," Draco half-whispered to him. "Swearing, trying to visit her estranged sister— oh, and deciding she's no longer a bigot, too. Imagine my shock when my own mother, in public, declared herself an uppity bitch, and no, I'm not paraphrasing. She might have to start sharing a hospital room with Lockheart soon." Harry barked out a strong laugh, thankful that it didn't hurt his throat.
"I'll believe it when I hear it," he said, still laughing at the idea of Narcissa Malfoy using anything less that proper language. Narcissa simply smiled secretively and glanced away.
Before anything more could be said about the weirdness that was Narcissa Malfoy, the door to Harry's room was thrown open, nearly hitting her, and admitting Ron, Hermione, Teddy, Molly, George, Ginny, and Arthur.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione was the first to reach his bedside with Teddy on her hip. She took his hand in hers, clutching it to her chest. "Are you alright? Draco couldn't really explain what'd happened last night, so all we knew was what Cole printed about it. We came as soon as we could."
"We were all really worried, mate," Ron said, coming up to stand beside her and flashing an awkward smile to Draco across from him on Harry's other side. "Mum nearly had a stoke. That's what it's called, right?"
"A stroke, Ron," Hermione corrected, and Harry snorted at his silly mispronunciation.
"Next time you decide to go and get yourself maimed warn us first," George said cheerfully.
"George! Now is not the time for jokes. How are you dear?" Molly pushed her way between George and Ron to stand closer to Harry.
"It wasn't a joke," George defended, though Harry wasn't sure how he was meant to inform anyone of his impending doom when it was sprung on him with no warning.
All of the sudden Narcissa's laughter cut through their show of concern, causing everyone to pause and turn around. Molly gasped and immediately crossed the room to confront Narcissa. Apparently no one had noticed her before then.
"What are you doing here?" she shouted, pointing a finger in Narcissa's calm looking face. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"
"Molly, it's alright," Harry said, finally able to get a word in. "She knows she's an uppity bitch, so don't worry about it." Molly twirled on her heel to face Harry with a look of flummoxed astonishment on her face. Ginny burst into unrestrained giggles and Harry smiled at her as she tried her best to compose herself. Looking back at Narcissa, he saw that she was doing her best not to laugh as well, which was probably the most bizarre thing Harry had seen all week.
"Did you just… What is going on here?!" Molly looked completely out of sorts. Arthur came to usher her to a stool further away from Narcissa and patted her shoulder.
"Harry was cursed last night, but he's being released today," Draco informed them as his thumb smoothed the skin on the back of Harry's hand. He summoned the clipboard that was still sitting on the bedside table and began reading off the notes there. "He was hit by a curse called Ulcus Suffocantum, a newly discovered curse that causes…"
As Draco read the notes of Harry's injuries to the roomful of people, just for that time, there was peace between families that had been at war with each other for too long. Everyone sat or stood, listening to Draco's level and poised voice, not giving dirty looks or slinging insults. It was at this point, looking around at the roomful of his family— Narcissa included, he relented— that Harry realised things might just turn out alright after all.
"So you're not dying?" George asked. "Because I swear I will learn Necromancy just to bring you back and hex you back to death if you are."
"No, I'm not dying," Harry chuckled. "Far from it. I'm fine, everyone, so please don't be worried."
"Easy for you to say," Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "All I've heard about today is Mum ranting and raving about how unfortunate you are."
"Oh, hush," was Molly's reprimand. She seemed to have calmed down a bit, but now that she knew there was little to be upset over she kept throwing disturbed glances at Narcissa, who was pretending not to notice.
"I'm just glad you had Draco right there," Ginny said as she sat at the end of his bed. She gave a grateful smile to Draco and Harry wished he could properly see Draco's facial expression at that moment. "Who knows what would've happened. George said the fireworks were so loud that nobody heard you getting attacked."
"Yes, so perhaps next time we can have a civilised event without all the dramatics," Hermione scolded, glaring at George.
"I thought it would be fun!" George shrugged, blush tinting his cheeks. "Sorry, Harry."
"No problem, I thought it was really cool."
"Of course you did," Hermione muttered.
"Can I see Teddy?" He gratefully took Teddy from her and snuggled up with the infant, holding him a bit tighter than usual at the reminder that his time as his guardian may be getting cut short. "By the way, George," Harry said, remembering the one question he'd had after seeing Fred's name in the sky. He didn't think George was lying or joking about it, but he had to hear it from the closest source he had to Fred. "Was Fred really gay?"
"Oh, yeah," was George's easy reply. He sat down on the other side of the foot of Harry's bed so he was back-to-back with Ginny.
"I've heard nothing about this," Molly gasped. "Arthur, did he ever mention it to you?"
"No, I think I'd definitely remember something that important," Arthur replied in confusion. "Why did he never tell us?"
"Why didn't he tell me? I'm his brother!" Ron complained, probably outraged at the thought that he'd been left in the dark.
"Yeah, well I'm his twin. He died before he got the chance to tell anyone else," George explained, his eyes suddenly looking rather haunted. His voice had gotten quiet and the room around him had become even more so. "I had suspicions when he would start dating girls. He'd snog them in the corridors and whatnot, it was sort of hard not to notice, but… This doesn't leave this room, alright?" He looked at Narcissa.
"Would you like me to leave?" she asked softly. For the first time in Harry's life he heard Narcissa sound kind and caring. It was different than the way she'd spoken during her apology to Harry; she was more sensitive than repentant.
"Nah, it's alright. Just… keep it to yourself." Harry was surprised at George's allowing her to stay and listen. He didn't know her any better than the rest of the Weasleys, but for whatever reason he was trusting her to stay and be a part of such a personal situation. Harry looked at Draco to take in his response to this and saw that he was nonplussed as well. "Fred wasn't ashamed of himself, exactly, but he knew that it wouldn't go very well for him in school if he told people. Then when we got the joke shop he didn't really think there was a point to telling people. It wasn't a big deal to him, once he'd recognised it for himself, that he was bent.
"But I noticed he didn't really initiate any of the physical contact with his flings, and that he tended to stare at other boys in the dormitory, always with this look on his face… Then I found a bunch of photos of— well, you could probably guess. Anyway, I found some pictures that suggested he was more interested in wizards than witches. They were in his trunk at school."
"Is that why you knew…?" Harry asked, trailing off as George nodded, confirming Harry's growing suspicions.
"It was the same thing, pretty much, as what Fred went through. I saw it happen once, it wasn't hard to tell when it happened to you." George gave another shrug. "I really am sorry about what happened at your speech. If I hadn't done those fireworks you probably wouldn't even be in the hospital. I just thought it would be a good way to end the night, you know? Celebrating, and all that jazz. Fred would've liked it."
"Don't be sorry. That bloke probably would've cursed me regardless of fireworks. I think Fred would've been proud."
"Me too," everyone started saying, one after the other. Aside from Narcissa, who still sat quietly on her stool, appearing deep in thought.
"What's your take on this, Mother?" Draco asked, drawing everyone's attention to him.
"I don't think it's my place to comment on something that I've only just started to understand," she said, holding her head high and keeping her face void of any telling emotions. "However, it is clear that I have misjudged the Weasleys."
"What's that supposed to mean?" George asked calmly. He was probably the least biased person in the room as far as Narcissa was concerned and it made Harry glad that he was the primary Weasley engaging with her.
"I mean that I owe all of you an apology, but your parents most of all," Narcissa said, looking to Molly and Arthur as she finished. "I didn't share all of my husband's views when it came to your family, but I can admit to being more judgemental than was in my rights, not knowing any of you personally. I apologise."
Arthur nodded and Molly cast her eyes to the floor, but Harry could see that they approved of Narcissa's apology, whether or not they accepted it and forgave her. Harry took that chance to pull a Hermione by catching her eye and looking at her as if to say, "I told you so."