Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed. I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
The Family You Have

Draco was sitting there in a dazed astonishment. His father's sister - a Malfoy - was a Squib? Unbelievable. But, yet... he glanced at the woman who had entered the room, shaken hands with Tinkerbell and was currently petting Lucky Tom. She was tall and bore herself with an elegance that belied her mundane Muggle clothes. The shape of her face reminded him of his Grandmother and those eyes... yes, she was definitely a Malfoy, and if she called herself a Squib, a Squib she was.

"Tinky, let's get the business off the table," Draco's new-found aunt said. "There's nothing I'm interested in except for two things. One's the miniature that used to be in the long hall beside that window leading to the winter garden. Do you know which one?" Draco hesitated. "Draco?"

"The one... of my grandmother?" he forced himself to ask.

"Yes. Do you remember her at all?" she asked, not covering her surprise.

"Course I do," Draco mumbled.

"You were just eight when she died and I imagine Lucius wasn't thrilled when she talked to you." Draco nodded, recalling the day Father had caught him in a vivid discussion with Granny. He had been furious - and quite brutal.

"What's the other thing?" he asked quietly, silently praying that it wouldn't be anything he liked.

"There's a little wooden box somewhere in the old library. It belonged to my grandmother. I couldn't take it away when I was leaving - it's magically locked and Lucius wouldn't have let me have it."

"Okay," Draco whispered.

"Don't you want anything valuable from the manor?" Tinkerbell asked, startling Draco who had forgotten his presence completely.

"What for?" she shrugged. "Everything valuable is probably cursed, or magical at the least. What would I do with it?"

"You could sell it," Draco suggested. "In fact, I will probably sell it."

"You'll sell the manor?!" Draco looked up to meet her shocked gaze.

"I don't want it," he said. "I don't want anything from it - anything!" Draco's voice echoed in the silence that followed until Tinkerbell cleared his throat.

"So, it's a miniature of old Lady Malfoy and a wooden box for Miss here and the manor to the young Lord Malfoy, to be sold or whatever?" Both Malfoys nodded. "What about the vault?"

Draco shrugged and looked at his aunt expectantly.

"I don't need money. You keep it - you'll need to finish Hogwarts first and get somewhere to live in." Draco wanted to say he didn't want to keep it, either, but he didn't want to sound childish.

"It's settled then," Tinkerbell said happilly. "Anyone for tea and biscuits?"

"I'm sorry, Tinky, I gotta run. Could only take half a day off. Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Will you get the wooden box for me?"

"I'm not sure where to find it," Draco said apologetically.

"Guess I'll have to go back there with you, then," she mused. "Lucius must be rolling in his grave - if he has any." She chuckled. "Sorry." She stood up and smoothed her clothes.

"I'll come with you," Draco offered quickly. He checked his trousers for cat hairs and found one too many to just brush them off. He'd have to use that nice charm Hermione taught him. If he could remember it.

Tinkerbell produced a parchment with the agreement and they both signed it. Having one copy sent to the Ministry, they took their leave and quickly descended the stairs.

"You're very quiet."

"I've always been," Draco replied automatically.

"No, you haven't. You were a very talkative child, at least when I was still living at the manor. I suppose Lucius and Narcissa didn't appreciate that, thought."

"When did you leave?" Draco asked, trying hard not to think about his mother.

"When Father died. You must have been four - no, nearly five then." They started walking together back to the main street. "Father was very unsure about me," she continued to fill the silence. "He thought having a Squib in the family was a disgrace and a shame. But Mum wouldn't let him throw me out and he loved her. Or respected her. Well, something, surely. But when he died and Lucius became Lord Malfoy, I had to go."

"Had he no respect for his mother?"

"None at all. He thought she was a fool. But she was a powerfull witch, too, and he couldn't ignore it. She came from Albania and by what she told me, things were different there. Not so many prejudices and no pureblood policy. Some Muggles there knew about Wizarding people and everyone lived in peace and harmony." She laughed bitterly. "She got married very young. Picture her homeland in bright colours, she did."

They stopped at a corner joining the main street. Muggles were walking in both directions there and no-one seemed to notice two Malfoys, a wizard and a Squid, trying to say good-bye in an unawkwardish way.

"I work at the bookshop down there," she said finally, jerking her head in a general direction in which the shop must have been. "Usually I finish at half past four, so you can just drop in when you're ready to take me to the manor."

"Or I can owl you a day before that."

"In the evening. But I'd rather not receive any more owl post right now. My neighbours have been getting too curious lately. So..."

"It's nice to have a relative who's not a bloody fanatic," Draco blurted suddenly. "I mean..."

"I think I know what you mean." The blue Malfoy eyes smiled at him warmly. "So it's goodbye for now," she said. "I gotta..."

"... run, I know," Draco finished. "It's just it's..."

"... such a big surprise and so little time?" She smiled fully now. "We're not parting forever. We can..."

"... go for a dinner or something?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Sure! So bye," she leaned to him and pecked him on the cheek before joining the quickly moving crowd of Muggles.

"Hey! Wait!" Draco cried out. The fair head stopped and turned to him. "What's your name?" A few passing girls burst into fits of giggles at hearing that. He ignored them.

"Tisha!" his aunt shouted back at him.

"Tisha," Draco whispered, somewhat soothed by the sound of her name.

The kitchen of the Burrow had always been a warm, welcoming place. It had felt safe to be there even during the worst times of the war and Draco liked to return there - especially since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had let him know they had thought of him as of another son.

Draco remembered very little from the night when Snape had brought him there, except for the terrible, unbearable pain of Cruciatus and then smell of tea Mrs. Weasley had made him. He didn't know how Snape had persuaded the Order to pardon him and hide him in their middle, and though he longed for that particular bit of information, he had never asked. At first, he had been afraid the Order might throw him out, and the right opportunity had simply never come. But he was grateful - really grateful - something he had never thought he would be able to do.

"Draco," Mrs. Weasley greeted him warmly. She had been unbelievably kind to him since that night. He guessed it was so because of his mother's death. She had been equally kind to Harry, playing a loving mum to both of them, fussing about them, sharing the little the Weasleys had had without hesitation.

He had never thought he would feel grateful for that, either.

"Mrs. Weasley," he answered and kissed her cheek. "You look very happy," he noted and stole a carrot from under her knife.

"Guess what happenned!" Draco studied her face for a while, reading the emotions displayed there. She looked happy, relaxed, and her knives were practically dancing in the air as if... but then, small things could make Molly Weasley happy.

"Tell me," Draco decided to play it safe, not wanting to hurt her by guessing something too good. Like Charlie Weasley coming home four months after his mysterious disappearance. Or Mr. Weasley's hand getting better despite the Healers' predictions. Or Fleur getting pregnant or...

"Ron has woken up! Hermione even talked to him - he will be alright!"

"That's great!" Draco exclaimed and embraced her. Deep inside, he felt a bit ambiguous without any real reason, just the fact that Ron of all people had never seemed to accept Draco.

Draco couldn't blame him.

"They say he'll get better on his own now," Mrs. Weasley chattered happilly away as she turned back to the vegetables. "I'll go to see him tomorrow afternoon."

Draco smiled and asked, "Where's Hermione, then. Back at the Mungo's?"

"Oh, no. The Ministry wanted to talk to her."

"What, again?!"

"Again."