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
Hopes and Memories

Tisha had been staring in the mirror for five minutes straight and Draco was growing impatient. He had picked her up at the bookshop she was working at, walked her to her tiny flat for a change of clothes, complimented on her decoration and Apparated them both to Malfoy Manor. He had expected it to be a short, quick visit to the house. Now it seemed they were going to spend some time here.

"I've never noticed how similar we were," Tisha muttered finally. "Oh, sorry - I'm keeping you, aren't I?" She smiled at Draco and he felt himself forgiving her instantly. His grandmother's smile, an exotical treat, unseen for so many years.

"S'alright," he said generously. "So, where's the wooden box?"

"That would be tricky," Tisha admitted. "I haven't been here for so many years - it could be anywhere in the old library - or just anywhere. Let's collect Mother's miniature first." That was easy, because Draco had spent hours watching the small picture where it had been hanging, studying the soft smile and sometimes receiving a wink and a wave of a hand.

"There," he pointed and Tisha went to the wall and collected the miniature, smiling at the woman.

"Hi, Mum," she said softly. "It's a shame she never speaks. I really don't understand why."

"The spell went wrongly," Draco explained, throat tight. Tisha shot him a curious glance.

"That must have been it. Now, the harder part. You'll probably have to allow me into the library - I used to have a pass, but Lucius most likely got rid of it." She scratched her head. "And I'm only assuming it would still be there."

"Wasn't there a magical lock on it?" Draco asked, leading the way across the manor. The old library lay directly across the main entrance, but was only accessible from the upper back door.

"There is, but it only prevents it from being carried out of the manor, not moved around it."

"Couldn't Father unlock it?"

"I doubt it. Besides, he probably didn't even know about it. It hasn't changed that much here... oh."

They had entered a long hall before the rooms of the Lady Malfoy - the hall where... - Draco closed his eyes and evened his breathing. Don't think of that.

"You-Know... Voldemort," Draco forced himself to say, "used the hall for some of the meetings," he explained. Tisha looked around the smokened walls, took in the scorched carpet, traces of curses on the old furniture, dark stains that could only be blood, even the poisonous green marks on the ceiling.

"Let's go on," she said.

They walked in silence. Draco kept his eyes down. Everything here reminded him of someone who died - his parents, Granny, even some of the Order members.

Mainly those who had been tortured to death on the rich Malfoy carpets.

"Draco," Tisha placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her. She was standing before the door to the old library. "You'll have to let me in."

Hermione moved the curtain back and forth few times, happy to see - or rather hear - it moving silently.

"There," she said contently and put the chair back to its place. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"Good to see you breaking rules again," Ron commented happilly and whatever Molly Weasley wanted to say remained unspoken. Hermione sat down at the edge of Ron's bed and took his hand. Ron looked up at her; for him, there couldn't be a more beautiful view.

"I'll leave you two to yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said before she slipped out of their small happy universe. As she was descending the stairs, she remembered the summer before their second year, the first time she had seen them together, and even then it had been obvious - as well as Ginny's heavy crush on...

She tripped and had to grab a handrail to prevent herself from falling. For a moment she stood there, breathing heavily, waiting for her heart beat to slow down. Memories of Harry hurt - only time could heal that - and it wasn't good to call them when walking down stairs.

"Such a steep flight of stairs in a hospital," she muttered to calm herself down before she restarted her descent more carefully. Memories were painful, but now that Ron was well, there was a future, a beautiful future to look forward to. She concentrated on that and left the building with a soft smile and a dozen grandchildren playing in the garden of her imagination.

"You're very quiet." Ginny shrugged her shoulders but turned a little to allow Blaise kiss her on a cheek. "You didn't use to be," Blaise added but gained no response. With a sight, he retreated to the kitchen to make tea. Sometimes he wished he hadn't changed sides.

But Draco had been very persuasive and there had been Ginny... Without the influence of his Slytherin peers, completely free to choose and for once honest with himself, he had had to admit he would touch her - if she only allowed him to - and gladly. And Draco had claimed she had broken up with the Boy Wonder, an opportunity a good Slytherin couldn't have just let pass.

After Potter's death, Blaise had lost his certainty about the break-up. Sure, they hadn't been dating and Ginny had been going out and even making out with him, but she had grown pensive, sad and passive.

A Ginny Weasley at her most fiery had always attracted him, being both terrific and terrifying. This depressed creature at the window made him feel scared and inadequate.

"Would you have some tea?" She accepted a mug filled with hot liquid and drank slowly.

"I met Neville yesterday," Blaise pretended there really was a conversation going on. "Snape will return to Hogwarts."

"Hm."

"He will teach Potions again - I wonder what McGonagall used to bribe him with to agree with that." This time no response came at all. Blaise got up and started tidying the room, trying to work out the tension he felt.

Ginny carried both their mugs to the kitchen and rinsed them. Then she returned to her observatory point at the window.

"I got that place at the shop in Hogsmeade," Blaise continued desperately. "Just in time before the school year starts. Hey, do you have all your books and such? We could go to Diagon Alley together to get it."

"I was there a week ago with Mum," Ginny finally answered. She looked at him. "You're worse than a house-elf."

"What? Just because I keep it here a bit in order?"

"It wasn't bad before." Blaise dropped a cushion he had been carrying around for the past five minutes, trying to fit it anywhere, and sat down next to Ginny.

"It's going to be a nice year," he said gently and stroke her hair.

"But you'll be probably working all the Hogsmeade weekends."

"We'll work something out," Blaise promised. He thought of the invisible cloak he knew Ginny had gotten from Potter. He thought of the secret passages he knew she had learned about from her brothers and Potter. He thought of all the mischief she had been willing to commit... with Potter.

And he remained silent.

The old library of the manor hadn't changed in years. The walls were hidden behind tall wooden bookshelves, in the middle, there were desks and chairs and the whole room was illuminated by light coming from a spelled false windows in the ceiling. There was only one picture hanging on the wall oposite to the door, and it was a picture of a library. There had been two figures sitting behind a pictured table and they both stood up when Draco and Tisha entered.

"Laeticia." The cool, hissing voice of his father - his dead father - made Draco shiver. Tisha stood to her full height, tilting her chin up with a hard look in her eyes.

"Lucius," she replied calmly.

"How dare you come to my house?!"

"Don't worry, I won't stay..."

"It's not your house anymore," Draco interrupted her. "You're dead." That took Lucius aback. For a while, he just stood there, pretending his son wasn't in the room. Then he turned abruptly and left. Narcissa made to follow him, but changed her mind.

"Laeticia," she said quietly, pleadingly. Tisha approached the picture and looked into the woman's face. Narcissa was fidgety, nervous... worried.

"You will look after him, won't you?" Tisha stood mute. "Won't you - he's your nephew - please..." Narcissa trailed off, falling back on the stuffed chair.

"Mother - I..." Draco had to swallow. Although he had talked to many dead people's paintings, it felt different to talk to his own mother. "I can take care of myself," he managed finally through a clenched throat.

Narcissa looked at him, tears in eyes, and then turned back to her sister-in-law. The distrust hurt Draco and he turned away. He could hear Tisha whispering something behind his back but couldn't make out the words.

Tisha put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her, she was grave and her eyes were intense.

"Let's find the box. It used to be in one of the drawers in that small desk." They located the box easily. It was small and its surface was covered in deep, dark scratches.

"It's rather old," Tisha said unnecessarilly and proceeded to search her pockets. "I had the unlocking charm somewhere... ah, here it is." She put a piece of parchment next to the box. Draco needed just one look.

"But that's very easy. I can't believe Father never tried it."

"He might have, but you have to use a key along with the charm," Tisha said contentedly. She placed something on the top of the box.

Her mother's miniature.

"Granny had it made to go with the box," Tisha explained. "There, now you can do the trick." She chuckled.

Draco performed the charm and was surprised to see a glow of light wash over both the box and the picture. A keyhole appeared on the front of the box. Tisha fished a small key from her pocket, put it in and turned it. The box opened easily as if it hadn't been locked for more than days. There were a few old letters, small pieces of jewellery and a black-and-white photo inside. Tisha passed Draco the photo.

It showed a young man with short blond hair and a friendly face leaning against a brick wall. He was remarkably handsome in a manly way, but not extraordinary - a common man, maybe a little better than average. It took Draco a minute to realise the picture wasn't moving.

Also, the paper was yellowish and the quality low.

"He looks familiar," Draco commented. "Who's that? Another Squib relative?"

"Not exactly," Tisha replied and Draco noticed she was really similar to him.

"So?" Tisha just grinned.

"I'll tell you about him someday. But you had plans for the rest of the afternoon, didn't you?" She collected the photo, letters and jewellery and locked them back in the box. She hid the box in one of her many pockets along with the miniature.

They returned the way they had come in and once again Draco had to watch his shoes closely to evade the thoughs of don't think of that don't think of THAT! his mother in the middle of Death Eathers.

She should have left, of course. Mother, I can't do that - I can't! He had even asked her to.

But she hadn't and then...

"Draco."

"She didn't have to stay here," he blurted out. "She knew he'd kill her." He stopped and looked at Tisha.

She was watching him curiously.

"I knew I'd fail again. I knew it - I wouldn't - I..." Draco's throat constricted.

"So you told Narcissa?" Draco nodded.

"I told her she had to leave, but she wouldn't. She stayed right there and when I..." Once again, Draco ended up lost for words. He leaned his forehead against the cool, hard wall. "She said I would get more time if she stayed until the evening," he continued quietly. "She wanted me to get away safely."

"She wanted to protect you," Tisha said.

"I didn't need her protection!" Draco shouted violantly, spinning round to face her. "I wanted to protect her!" Most of all, he wanted to hit something - someone - but he could also feel tears threatening to flow from his eyes any second and he started blinking furiously to keep them hidden.

Tisha was silent for a long time, seemingly waiting for him to continue. Finally she stepped closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I didn't like Narcissa much," she admitted quietly. "She was snotty and stupid about many things. But." She drew a breath heavily. "But she loved you. You were her only child and she wanted to protect you as any mother wants to protect her children. Do you understand?" Draco shook his head, losing his battle with tears.

"She was tortu... tortured right here," he stuttered between sobs. "B-bellatrix did that. And she was laughing." He paused and composed himself somewhat. "And I had to watch - I mean, it didn't help at all, they still got me. She died for nothing."

Tisha didn't say anything, just drew Draco further into the embrace, and he hid his face in her shirt and let the tears flow.

"When she asked me to look after you," she whispered after a while, "I didn't realise you might need it."

A/N: So, another one. Please, review! It maketh (;)) my spirit rise and I write faster ;) Besides, I can't believe more than thirty people read through it all without having anything to say!