Chapter 20; Happy New Year
"I always knew that bitch was evil", said Ron with a stunned expression after Ginny and Draco finished their fifth telling of the dangerous-duelling-and-miraculously-surviving-story. "I knew it. I just knew."
"Yes, Ron. So we've heard." Ginny made a face at her older brother. "Five times, now."
"Whatever. I wish my life was as interesting as yours." Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry never wants to hang out and do something fun anymore. Apparently, he wants to spend as much free time as possible with his new partner."
"Whom for the record we haven't met yet", Hermione commented. She was sitting with her legs crossed in front of the sofa, allowing Ron to massage her shoulders in smooth movements. Even though they seemed to bicker more than humanly possible, Draco had to admit they made an awfully cute couple.
"You don't want that", he answered Ron. "Seriously."
"I have to side with Draco", muttered Ginny. "My ribs still hurt and I'm still suspended from Quidditch."
"You're not suspended, it's Christmas break."
"Same thing."
"Speaking of Harry, why isn't he here?" There was a concerned look in Hermione's eyes as she looked from Ginny to Mrs Weasley in search for an answer.
"Said he was busy", said Molly without lifting her eyes from the turkey platter she was garnishing. "Shame on him to miss such an opportunity to eat my famous Christmas Dinner a second time, I say."
"Shame indeed", said Bill, who hovered in the kitchen, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue in pure excitement. "Is it by any chance time to eat soon, Mother?"
"Not yet, you impatient wolf." A wave of hysterical laughter spread across the room. Draco couldn't quite understand why, but as Ginny whispered a few explaining words in his ear he finally did so and joined the laughter.
Home. Draco had always had a complicated relation to the word.
The mansion he grew up in had been his home, and he had come to detest it with every fibre of his being. It held so many memories, almost all of them distressing and tormenting. He hadn't been there in ages, never wished to go back. The mansion had been his physical home, but mentally it had been nothing but his prison, his chamber of torture. A home meant a safe place, and Draco had never felt safe there.
Hogwarts had been his first true home, like it had been for so many others. It had been a place for him to feel safe and to build a life, build an identity that he could live and prosper in. His first five years at Hogwarts had been the happiest years of his life - it had been the first time he was able to fully live the life he'd been given.
Eventually the darkness that seemed to characterize his life had reached Hogwarts as well, and his home was no longer a place with guaranteed safety.
The apartment he'd lived in with Astoria had been his home and he had had a signed contract to prove so. That one had, just like the mansion he grew up in, been the absolute opposite of safety from the beginning.
But this. This. The Burrow.
He'd only been there two or three times, but that had been enough to give the unique house with its creaky staircases and uneven windows an ever-lasting spot in his heart. The house never seemed to be empty, the kitchen never ceased to smell of delicious home-baked cookies and savoury casseroles, and there was always someone willing to talk with you. There was always a spot saved for you in the couch no matter how many people sat there and whenever you needed the fireplace you found it was already burning. He'd never arrived there without being welcomed by at least two cats, he'd never heard anyone say no to a game of Exploding Snap, and he'd never heard harsher words there than Ron and Hermione's bickering.
The Burrow was love and respect, shelter and safety, laughter and discussion. He hadn't stumbled across it until 22 years old, but the Burrow was home.
"Pass me the roast potatoes, will you, Ron."
"Hey! Who kidnapped the cranberry sauce? I want some, too!"
"Anyone wants brussel sprouts? Victoire, you want some? You'd rather die? Seriously, Bill, teach your kid some language…You can fuck off!"
"Exquisite mashed potatoes, Molly."
"Will there be Christmas Pudding after this?"
"Hey, anyone wants to have a drinking contest? Not appropriate? Oh, come on! Ow, Ginny! You're not allowed to slap your brothers!"
Draco had never had a Christmas dinner like this. The food was indeed delicious, even better than the food at Hogwarts, which Draco had never before thought possible. He ate of everything until he was full, and he let the food stay in his stomach, settle there to give him the nutrition he needed. He added to the discussions, he laughed at jokes, and when one year old Dominique tugged at his jeans legs, she was given a place in his lap immediately.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Ginny's voice was a careful whisper in his ear, discreet to avoid attention.
"This place is heaven", he whispered back. She smiled at that, placing a light kiss on his cheek.
"Ooh! Lovebirds!" The brother who worked with dragons, Charlie, whistled from across the table. "Want some privacy?"
"You're just jealous", his sister retaliated. "We all know that."
"I'm not jealous", said Charlie, swallowing two brussel-sprouts in one bite. "I prefer dragons anyway. People are way too complicated."
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Draco could agree with Charlie. Not that he'd ever been a particularly huge fan of dragons, but people were indeed the most complicated creatures he'd ever seen. Care of Magical Creatures had never been his best subject - heck, a hippogriff had almost killed him once - but he was still convinced there was no creature more complex than the human.
Take Astoria, for example. He'd visited her at St. Mungo's yesterday. She was in bad shape, a shell of her older self, but she would survive. Draco wasn't guilty of anything, technically, since he'd used such an unknown spell. The Wizarding World's Legal Rights system was pretty messed up. Astoria didn't talk to him during his visit, just stared out into the void, but the healers assigned to her had talked to Draco about personality disorders and psychoses. He hadn't understood half of it, but he had still somewhere very deep inside felt just a tiny little bit sorry for Astoria. He knew what it was like to be messed up. But he also remembered every little thing she'd done, every little thing she'd made him do, every little piece of him she'd destroyed, and he knew that he would still resent her for the rest of his life. All of it hadn't been her fault, but that didn't make it any easier to forgive.
But he'd been promised she would never be able hurt him again. And that helped.
Blaise had survived, too, miraculously in a much better shape than Astoria. He was able to talk to Draco, and they had a short conversation mostly consisting of Blaise telling Draco how sorry he was. Draco had accepted his apologies. Blaise had never been evil or villainous, only weak and easily manipulated.
And then there was Draco himself. He'd been put on an antidepressive medication that was supposed to reduce his anxiety - a counterspell for the monsters. He was still seeing Bob, the psychiatrist, and they were slowly working out all his issues and problems, trying to find the reasons to why they existed. Working out ways to make his life bearable again. Finding coping methods that wasn't alcohol or self-harm-related.
"There's nothing wrong with you and there never has been", Bob had explained. "You've just been given a more difficult life than most people."
It was awfully unfair, Draco thought when the panic attacks came and he cried and cried with Ginny at his side until they eventually passed. But he'd accepted it. It was part of his life, after all. It was part of him.
Humans truly were complicated creatures.
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As soon as dinner was finished, Draco collapsed in the comfy sofa once again. It'd only been two days since St. Mungo's released him, and he was still not physically recovered, Maybe, if he was lucky, he could catch just a moment of sleep before the fireworks later tonight…
"Tired, huh?" It couldn't have been more than minutes before he was dragged back into conscience. George Weasley, one of the brothers whose company Draco had learned to appreciate the most, sat down next to him with little Fred in his arms. The baby fuzzed and whimpered alarmingly while its father tried to cradle it to sleep.
"Probably not at all in comparison to you."
"Thanks for the compliment." George grinned at Draco's remark, but the bags under his eyes spoke only of frustration.
"Seriously though, do you get any sleep?"
"Two-three hours at best. I'm literally living on muggle coffee and half-illegal energizing potions. It's worth it, though. And Angie has it worse."
"Yes, I do. Anyone care to explain why men can't breastfeed?" Angelina was standing up, rocking little Roxanne and looking equally as exhausted as George.
"Anatomy", Percy declared from his armchair.
"Yeah, but we're wizards. Why should it apply to us?" Roxanne cried, a shockingly loud and high-pitched cry to come from something to small, as if she wished to emphasise her mother's words.
"Don't tell her, but I'm kind of glad it does", George whispered.
It still surprised him, how welcoming and accepting the Weasley family had been of him. How they so kindly had forgiven him for the things his family had done, how they so easily had accepted the idea of starting over on a blank page - it was a mystery to him. It was, however, a mystery he didn't mind.
"So", said George, still cradling the crying baby. "I haven't had the chance to talk to you that much. You mind if I do?"
"Aren't you, already?" He couldn't restrain a chuckle.
"No. I mean - big brother talk." The redheaded man grinned. "All the important stuff."
"Indeed." His eyes wandered away to Ginny, leaning with her lower back against the rusty kitchen counter, deep in conversation with Hermione. "You see that girl over there? That's my sister."
"I'm aware."
"I have known her for 22 years, which equals her whole life. I watched her grow up. I can tell you what the last thing she does before she goes to sleep is. I can tell you the date she first flew on a broomstick. I can tell you the lyrics to her favourite song. I can tell when she's angry for real and when she just feels like teasing you. I can tell when she wants to be talked to, and I can tell when she doesn't. I can tell you what her worst nightmares are about, and I can tell you about how she handles them. I can tell when she's ecstatic, devastated or furious. And", he said with a pause, "I can tell when she loves someone." As he finished the sentence, Ginny gave Draco a questioning smile, a soundless gesture to ask if everything was okay. He smiled back, confirming that it was, then turned his focus to George again.
"I love her", he said, matter-of-factly.
"I know you do. I can see it. And she loves you. I was sceptical at first, but I see it now. She really loves you."
"I don't deserve her." The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.
"No, you don't." George smiled, a kind but serious smile. "Frankly, nobody deserves her. She's too good for the world. She's always been. And I will never think of a guy that could be good enough for her. But truth is, it doesn't matter what I think, because she will make her own choices. Now she's chosen you." He watched her for another moment, nostalgia in his eyes. "Just promise me you'll try to be good enough."
"I will. I promise."
"You better. And if I ever, ever, "His face was as stern as Draco remembered Professor McGonagall's to have been. "find out that you've done something to hurt her, I will crush you into pieces and that duel you experienced will have been a walk in the park in comparison. That understood?"
"Understood."
They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the soundtrack of people talking and babies crying. Fred was still whimpering in his father's arms, while Roxanne's screams had quietened after Angelina had fed her.
"If there's something I don't get", Angelina said, "it is how such small children have the energy to scream so much."
"Is she sleeping yet?" As if to answer her father, Roxanne started crying again. Angelina leaned the girl against her own shoulder, patting her back.
"Not yet." She kissed her daughter's head, just in perfect timing to get sprayed with baby puke. "Oh… no." She fumbled for her wand, still holding the crying baby. "Evanesco." She smelled her clothes. "Damn it. George, please, give me some help here. We both need a change of clothes. ."
"I'm busy!"
"I can hold Fred", Draco offered quickly. George eyed him skeptically from head to toe, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Sure. It can't hurt. Don't drop him. Or strangle him. Or-"
"George, she threw up again..."
"Coming." At that, George simply handed the baby to Draco, and he was left alone with the baby.
"Hi", he said tentatively. "I'm Draco." The whimpering baby quietened and just stared at him. "Not that I expect you to know who I am. I just wanted to introduce myself."
"You're lucky to have been born into this family", he continued. "I'm jealous. I wish I had been, too." Fred was silent now, listening to the unknown man's voice, his petite mouth shaped like an o. Draco had never been a big fan of babies, but now, when the boy was no longer crying, even he could admit they were cute. The little boy had dark skin like his mother and the same black, curly hair, but his nose was the same shape as both George's and Ginny's. Fred had a tight grip about Draco's pinkie, and his nails were sharp but the gesture adorable.
And before Draco even noticed what was happening, the boy had drifted of to sleep. Fred was breathing slowly, in and out through his tiny little nose and mouth, and Draco found himself breathing in the same rhythm. He felt himself relax, letting go of the built-up pressure he'd carried throughout the evening.
"He likes you." Draco didn't notice Angelina's presence until she was right beside him, sipping at a cup of tea and smiling through her exhaustion.
"Seems like it." He couldn't help but turn the corners of his mouth slightly upward while carefully caressing Fred's messy, dark brown coiffure. "I've never actually held a baby before."
"You're a natural, then."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that."
"Well, I sure would", said George, who seemed to have sneaked up on them from behind. "Molly finally got Roxanne to sleep in their bedroom."
"Cheers." Angelina raised her teacup towards the glass of water her husband was holding, and they shared a silent toast.
"Cheers. How long's he been sleeping? Ten minutes? You're a professional, Draco."
"Agreed." Angelina took another sip of her steamy tea. "You heard that, Ginny?"
"I heard what?"
"Your boyfriend's got a natural talent for putting babies to sleep."
"So you better start working! Don't let him lose his talent!"
"Dream on!" Ginny made a highly inappropriate finger gesture towards her brother. Molly gave her the evil eye, but it wasn't enough to keep the rest of the Weasleys for laughing.
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Ginny Weasley was the happiest she'd been in a long, long time.
Her ribs were broken and she was still suffering waves of fatigue and agonizing pain from the shock she'd caused her body during the fall, she experienced insufferable nightmares and seemed to have developed an incurable paranoia that prevented her from trusting anybody. And still, she was utterly convinced she lived the best life in the whole world.
"It's freezing out here." Draco rubbed his hands alongside his arms, using the friction for warmth. "Do we have to watch the fireworks?"
"Yes!" Every member of the Weasley clan answered him as one.
"Okay", mumbled Draco. "Got it. Forget I asked."
"Oh, come here." Ginny laid his arms around him, winter coat touching winter coat, and he gave her a thankful smile.
"Anyone for champagne?" Bill waved with a fancy-looking golden flask. "It's alcohol-free… Yes, Ron, I'm sure!"
"So, one minute left", she whispered in Draco's ear after Percy had declared the news. "You okay?"
"More than okay." He squeezed her hand, and his was chilly against hers, but it didn't matter. "I've had a lovely evening."
"I'm glad." She raised her glass to that, and Draco raised his. "Here's to many more."
"Here's to a life full of them." They toasted.
And as they did so, the fireworks began, lighting up the sky in the most breath-taking and awe-inspiring constellations of colour. It was easy to distinguish the ones George had brought from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - they all spelled out HAPPY NEW YEAR in round, rainbow-colored uppercase letters. Toasts were shared, and utterances about the New Year were made to their right and left - yes, probably all over Britain - but neither Ginny nor Draco were noticing any of it.
The champagne glasses, of course enchanted, had drifted away from their owners to give them some privacy and avoid being crushed in the intense kissing session.
"Happy new year", Ginny whispered as they eventually parted.
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A/N; There you go! It's not that much left of this fanfiction, unfortunately, but I promise you there's a few more chapters to go!
If you read this, you should know that I love you and your support means everything. Truly. No matter how few readers I have, if there's anyone out there enjoying this, then it's worth it.
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