They arrived at a stoic yet bleak looking mansion. It looked like a place that had once been ornate, distinguished, and powerful. Now, it looked as though it was dying. Leafless bushes lined the somewhat crumbling, bramble strewn driveway. It wasn't that the house looked to be in complete disarray, it was more like it hadn't been kept up in quite some time.
Draco hauled his luggage down the depressing stone walkway, taking care not to look at Zuko, lest he be judged. Mother had let the place fall apart a bit since his father's imprisonment, since her banishment from society. Draco looked around at the grounds, his father's peacock wasn't there. Draco's heart skipped a beat at the thought of what could have happened to it. The melancholy that surrounded the estate wasn't just a product of its bleak physical appearance, no, there was just a certain…sadness around it. It was like an aura of grey nothingness that coated the once-gleaming columns and perfectly manicured shrubbery. Almost like a curse.
Draco scowled, cursed indeed. Everytime he stepped foot on these grounds it was like he was cursed. Cursed by the wretched loneliness, the piercing despair, the hopelessness that came with being forced to consider the possibility that there were no possibilities. Having gone from socialite to social ostracism so quickly can make one's life view impossibly bleak. It was one thing to grow up in bleak circumstances, but quite another to be abruptly forced into them.
They ascended the stairs to the front door and there waiting in the crack of the door was an old house elf. The only house elf willing to work for the Malfoy Family. It was half deaf, moved maddeningly slow, and was easily confused; such attributes made him unsuitable for house elf work, so when Draco found him (after being chased out of Diagon alley) begging for work, he took him in. His mother laid in her master bedroom day and night, someone had to look after her while Draco was at school, Drooples was his only option.
Draco smiled when he saw the old house elf, then quickly scowled. So, he had grown to like the decrepit old creature. So, he had grown to depend on him. So, he had grown to look forward to seeing him. It was still ingrained in him to treat it as a servant…not a friend.
Zuko recoiled at the sight of it. What the hell was it? "What the hell is that?" Zuko whispered for fear that it might hear him and attack.
"Drooples." Draco replied, walking past the little house elf. Zuko remained at the front door, eyeing the creature warily. Draco turned when he could no longer hear footsteps, he smirked at the look of apprehension on Zuko's face. "Honestly, how many times have we talked about house elves? Drooples is my house elf." And then the elderly house elf bowed as low as it could to Zuko.
Now they had talked about house elves a multitude of times, but Zuko had never seen one. At Hogwarts they came about when you were sleeping. Zuko had deduced this when he found his "robes" freshly laundered and folded and for weeks believed Draco was secretly doing his laundry which creeped him out endlessly. Eventually, he found out the true story but all the same he had never actually seen what the creatures looked like. Long pointy ears, giant noses, this particular house elf's skin seemed to almost be hanging off of it. Still, it was bowing to him, so he bowed back. The house elf looked temporarily confused, then snapped his fingers, soon Draco and Zuko's bags were floating and slowly, very slowly, the bags and the house elf shuffled off. Zuko stared off at it, at the rate it was going the bags wouldn't reach their room for hours.
"Alright, I'll need to check on Mum. So…I dunno, sit here until I get back." Draco finished lamely, the house was quite big and he certainly didn't want to have to go on some ridiculous journey to find Zuko in his own house. He turned and made his way up the marble staircase. The house was covered in dust, apparently Drooples wasn't fairing so well with cleaning a house of this size. As he walked through the large hallway leading to the master bedroom, he looked down at the carpeting which looked frayed and a bit moth eaten, a mouse ran along the wall. Drooples must not have gotten to that either. Draco's heart quickened, Drooples' main concern was to watch after mother, if the rest of the house looked like THIS, how well did his mother fair in Drooples incompetent old hands? He found his steps quickening as he approached the bedroom door. What had he been thinking? Leaving a useless, old house elf to care for his mother?
He arrived at the double doors to his mother's bedroom, took a terrified breath, and threw the doors open. There she was sleeping, which she did a lot of lately. Then Draco took a sweeping look around the room itself and his eyes widened. It was immaculate. The burgundy curtains, opulent and full, were slightly pulled open, just as mother liked it. The room was spotless, a small well tended fire warmed the room from the large, beautiful fireplace. Even the chandelier was spotless, twinkling from the partial light of the window. Mother's large 4 poster bed smelled of Lavender, just as she liked it and looked to be laundered daily. The master bathroom, spotless, the porcelain shone in an almost blinding way. There seemed to be a fresh bowl of porridge on mother's night stand, the steam coiling off it as if it were dancing and a full tea service in the bedroom sitting area, with fresh cakes.
Draco walked over to her closet, her clothes were freshly laundered, her dressing gown hanging on the door, waiting to be worn again. Draco was in disbelief. He had told Drooples upon leaving for Hogwarts that his most important task was to care for mother. It would seem that Drooples had taken that command very seriously. The rest of the house may have gone to the wayside a bit, but it was clear that his mother had been very well tended to. Drooples had ensured that.
Draco's heart felt full to bursting, a feeling that had been alien to him for so long.
"Pardon sir, Drooples must replace mistress's water." Said the tiny old voice of Draco's magnificent house elf as it shuffled past. The old elf carefully, almost silently lifted the pitcher and glass on Narcissa's nightstand and shuffled back out of the door, where Draco heard the faint crack of disapparation. Drooples clearly didn't want the sound to wake his mistress.
"Draco?" A small whisper emanated from within the 4 poster bed.
Draco turned and smiled softly, "Hello Mother."
…
Zuko stood awkwardly in the large receiving hall of Draco's house. He had to admit it was nice, if not a bit rough around the edges. It was no Fire Nation palace of course, but it was definitely indicative of wealth and status. Zuko figeted, not sure what to do with himself. He hated waiting around, the last couple years of his life seemed to be a constant oscillation between waiting around and terrifying danger. He preferred the danger.
Draco had told him to stay put but Zuko found himself starting to wander around the room. Inspecting the fireplace, the curtains, finally coming up on a large portrait. A man with long white blond hair in luxurious robes stood leaning magnificently on a cane with a snake head. His face held a look of grand superiority very much like his own father. Zuko closed his eyes at the thought. Taking a deep breath, he opened them and gasped, the man seemed to be observing him now, scrutinizing Zuko's worth. The pictures move, it's just magic." Zuko thought. He ignored the man who seemed affronted by Zuko's actions. His eyes fell to a woman standing at the man's side. She was beautiful, but a haughty sort of beautiful that came off as unappealing. Her head turned slightly and she also examined Zuko with a sense of standard judgment. Zuko's eyeline followed her arm down to her hand which was resting on the shoulder of a boy. The boy was about 11, slicked back white blond hair, a sneer on his face. The boy looked exceptionally pleased with himself, as if it was everyone's honor to stare at his portrait.
Zuko smirked. That was Draco alright.
And yet, the boy in the painting and the man he became were different. The boy's eyes lit up with an air of entitlement and a genuine belief that he was special. The man's eyes were hollow, the sneer was still there but the belief was absent. The boy seemed to be enjoying the moment. The man seemed to just be going through the motions. Everyone changed and matured as they got older, that was a certainty, but the change in Draco- The Boy and Draco- The Man was certainly not a natural one. Something had rocked this little boy's world. Something had altered the course of his development and turned him into a shell of a man, an unsure, terrified, man.
Zuko frowned and, for some reason, bowed to the portrait. The Older man looked indifferent, the boy sneered even harder, but the woman…she looked at him carefully, as if she could see something in him, she smiled slightly.
Zuko turned and looked towards the grand staircase. Draco had not returned. He heard a faint pop sound and spun around as if he were about to be attacked. Seeing nothing, he proceeded to examine the house with caution eventually coming up to a corridor. He knew he shouldn't be wandering but in that moment he couldn't seem to help himself. A little ways down the hall was a double door. Zuko crept down the dark hallway, hugging the wall, apparently no one had been here in ages. The hallway was cold and unnaturally dark, like the corridor lamps had not been turned on in ages. As he inched closer to the double doors, he could see his breath.
Finally, he stood in front of them and it was as if the doors were beckoning him to open them. Slowly, he obliged. His eyes widened at the site. The room was in utter ruins. It looked to once be a rather ornate room, purple walls, a grand fireplace with the remnants of what must have been a very opulent mirror. Zuko took several steps forward. He stared at a grand chandelier, shattered to pieces in the middle of the floor. The curtains that covered the grand windows were ripped and tattered causing the sun to illuminate the room in a most obscene way. The chairs were upturned and destroyed. The carpet in rags. Zuko stepped in further and looked down to the floor. There was…blood. Dried blood. Looked like it had been there for ages. He walked a little more and saw that the amount of blood seemed to increase the further he got into the room. He looked around, it was on the walls as well. It wasn't as if it was the scene of a blood bath, it was just that once you notice blood, you can't stop noticing it.
Zuko couldn't believe it. The rest of the house was a little dusty and moldy, a product of neglect, but THIS room…this room had seen something horrible and the most odd thing of all was no one had bothered to clean it. From the settled dust and development of cobwebs Zuko had deduced no one had stepped foot in this room in ages. Why?
"What happened here?" Zuko muttered to himself.
"Zuko?" A voice yelled from down the hall. Zuko didn't reply, too enthralled by the scene before him.
What happened here?
…
"Draco…Draco." Narcissa muttered from her bed.
Draco moved quickly to her side, kneeling down so she wouldn't have to raise her voice.
"Mother. How are you?" Draco said softly.
Narcissa smiled a tiny smile and shifted slightly to look at him. "You look like your father."
Narcissa had never been a particularly affectionate woman before the war. Her upbringing had taught her that affection was given through gifts and approval, reinforcing appropriate social behaviors. Recognizing one's place in society and solidifying it was what the woman of the house was to do. It was what a wife was supposed to do. A mother. She doted on Draco by giving him the best of everything in order to reinforce the kind of behavior that didn't embarrass the family. It was all business.
Now, she said things to him, things that made Draco uncomfortable. Sweet, affectionate things. She said them as if every moment she had with Draco was finite.
"My handsome Draco." She whispered.
Draco straightened uncomfortably. "Mother, we have a guest for holidays."
Narcissa looked confused and shocked in a tired way.
"A…friend. From school." Draco said.
"A…friend? You've made a friend?" Narcissa replied quietly.
Draco scowled. "Yes Mother." Zuko…a friend? Gross.
Narcissa's eyes widened and she smiled grandly. "Oh, I knew it! I knew they wouldn't blame you for my mistakes!"
"You didn't make any mis-" Draco started but was cut off.
Narcissa sat up a bit quickly. "Don't you see Draco? It's going to be ok! It's going to be ok for you! You'll be able to be happy! I haven't ruined everything for you!" She grasped Draco's hand tightly and a tear ran down her face. She was shaking slightly and looked a bit manic. It was all very sudden.
Draco looked at their locked hands. "Is…is that why you won't leave bed? Because of me?"
Narcissa's face fell and slowly she shrank back down into her bed. "I…I couldn't bear to face you."
Draco stared off. "Face me?"
Narcissa started to wring her blanket as she sunk further back into bed. She was unnerved. So…unlike herself. "Your father and I…made decisions. Decisions that jeopardized you…jepordized your future. Decisions that hurt you. You are not to blame, you are never to blame. But I? How can I look my son in the eye when I was the reason for his suffering. When it took me so long to do something…to end it."
"The Dark Forest?" Draco said, still staring off.
"I didn't care about Potter or the Dark Lord. I just wanted to find you. Your father had tried to persuade the Dark Lord but he wasn't concerned. He was never concerned…" Narcissa gripped the blanket tightly, anger rising in her. "I should have done something sooner, gotten you out sooner. How could I face you? I am your mother…and I let him hurt you."
"Stop." Draco said and Narcissa looked at him with wide eyes. "You've had me worried for months. I've been a WRECK hoping you would get better…and you're telling me, all this time, that you drove me to pieces BECAUSE of me?"
"Draco…" Narcissa started.
"No." Draco said resolutely, walking away from her. "You will bathe, you will get dressed, and you will present yourself for dinner with our guest. I do not want to speak anymore about this. You are done lying in bed all day. You will present yourself, you will stop acting childish, you will behave like a MALFOY."
With that Draco walked out of the room.
Narcissa frowned with a terrible sadness. She had hurt him. But now, she realized that she had hurt him far earlier than the second coming of The Dark Lord. She had taught him to shut himself down. Many times Lucius and Narcissa had shut him down. Emotionally. Emotionality was inappropriate for people of their stature. One must always exude strength and confidence. He couldn't handle emotions, couldn't handle dealing with uncomfortable situations, situations that didn't go his way. She had taught him how to behave in society, but had failed to actually teach him the things that counted.
Slowly, painfully, she pulled herself out of the bed that had been her tomb and dragged herself to the bathroom.
Disgraceful.
"Zuko?" Draco called cautiously as he walked down the grand staircase. No answer. Had he not JUST told him to stay put? And yet, Draco was glad to have to look for him. He certainly didn't want to think about his mother at the moment. The nerve of her, locking herself away like that, letting the house fall apart, leaving him to deal with things alone…all because she was AFRAID of him? What a selfish B- Draco stopped himself from finishing the thought. It was disrespectful, inappropriate. It was up to him to uphold the Malfoy name now. He must behave appropriately.
Draco looked around the large receiving room of his house, trying to deduce where Zuko would most likely head. He scanned the giant columns spanning the second floor, just off the grand staircase. He looked towards the hall leading to the study, the library, the kitchens. Where would Draco go if he were a bumbling idiot who couldn't follow instructions? Where would he go in his own house?
Draco's eyes shot wide open. He knew exactly where he would go. The place Draco himself had kept wandering to in his first desperate months of isolation after the war. The place he could never bring himself to go inside. The place whose doors had not opened since the first time he wanted to make her tears go away. Would Zuko go there? Why would he? Then again, why did Draco? He walked slowly along the wall that led to the corridor. The air felt stagnant, his heart pounded as he peered around the corner. His breathe hitched, there was light. There was light coming from the drawing room.
…
Zuko walked further into the room, noticing an off shoot hallway leading to a dark corridor, Zuko cocked his head curiously.
Draco gripped the edge of the wall that led to the drawing room corridor. He stood paralyzed, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. His heart burned in his chest and sweat was pouring down his face. He closed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself but his mind was racked with flashbacks and screams. Draco opened his eyes and was startled to find himself standing in the dark corridor. Alone. Had he moved? Had he rounded the corner? How had he gotten here? But even as his mind was frantically mulling over these questions, his feet were moving. His mind screamed in protest, but his damned feet were still moving. Slowly pulling him forward. Slowly pulling him to her screams.
Zuko walked slowly up to the great chandelier. It must have been beautiful in life, for it was still beautiful in death. Zuko's attention turned back to the hallway off shooting the wreckage. Slowly, he walked towards it, wondering where it led. The floor was scratched and scuffed, as if there was some kind of mild struggle of sorts. Zuko peered cautiously down the dark corridor. It was impossible to see. He moved closer, a small ball of fire materializing in his hand, he stretched his arm out to illuminate the way…there seemed to be…a set of stairs….
Draco's feet dragged him closer to the doors. The doors that were now open, doors that had not been opened in a year. Never opened, only stared at, scrutinized. The screaming grew louder in his ears. Why wouldn't his feet stop! They never stopped! Everytime he was in this situation…they never stopped. Not until he reached the door. It was all like some cruel joke. His body dragged him to the door, then stopped before he could open it. As if his own body was trying to remind himself of how much of a coward he was.
Zuko arched an eyebrow, where did those steps lead to? Those old, steep stone steps. A dungeon? Could Draco POSSIBLY have a dungeon in his house? The thought seemed ridiculous. Zuko had lost track of time, of everything. All he wanted to know, all he cared about, was where those stone stairs went to. He was entranced, this room was the most tragic kind of entrancing. Slowly, he took a step into the corridor but before he could go any further, there was a yelp and a splat. Zuko spun around and his eyes widened impossibly.
Draco's steps led him to the other side of the open door. The side that shielded him from what lied inside. The light from the drawing room seemed to bound out of the room, as if it was trying to escape a prison. Draco's feet finally relented and it would seem that it was now Draco's choice whether he would face the screams or, like every other time, leave the doors closed. He stared down at his feet before snapping his head up at the sound of footsteps from within the drawing room. Draco's breath hitched. He knew who was in there. Why couldn't Zuko stay put! Draco shut his eyes tightly, drawing a deep breath. With incredible effort he raised his hand and his fingers slowly, one by one, wrapped themselves around the door. With unbelievable terror Draco pulled the door back as he stepped around it and into the cold light emanating from the drawing room. Finally, standing fully in front of the entrance, he opened his eyes. The mirror, the fireplace, the snatchers, the stench, the scar, her screams, the spells, the dagger, the blood, red eyes. Her screams. Draco's eyes widened, impossibly. Then he doubled over and vomited violently all over himself.
Zuko stared horrified as he watched Draco empty his body of every liquid, solid, and gas that had ever existed within him. He vomited with a strangled scream and desperate gasps. Zuko was across the room but could see the tears falling from Draco's suddenly bloodshot eyes. The whole thing seemed to take an eternity. It was so detailed and vivid for such a common albeit disgusting action. Except, this wasn't disgusting. This was…painful. Not the act but what was behind it. This was tragic.
Draco wretched a final time, staying kneeled over as he fought to catch his breath. He placed his hand on the doorframe to steady himself and, with his clothes and shoes covered in his own sick, he slowly looked up to see Zuko standing at the entrance to the corridor that led to the cellar. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked down at the floor again.
"Leave." Draco muttered. Zuko didn't make a move.
Zuko stood on the spot, Draco had said something, but Zuko didn't catch it, he leaned forward although he wasn't sure why, they were across the room from each other. Then he watched as Draco put his hand in his pocket.
Draco stayed with his hand pressed against the doorframe, leaning towards it, his head still bowed to the floor. Slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket.
Suddenly, Draco was looking at Zuko, and with the deepest sentiment, he screamed: "LEAVE!" And as he screamed, his wand slashed through the air and the shattered chandelier that so consumed and defined that room sliced through the air and exploded against the stone wall across the Drawing Room of Malfoy Manner.
Zuko flinched as Draco screamed, he balked as he heard the shattering glass. He turned and looked at Draco, who stared back at him with torrid resolve. Zuko conceded, crossing the room he had never meant to enter. He approached Draco cautiously and passed him silently. As he walked away he turned to see Draco slowly, almost mourningly, closing the door and, briefly, as the last bit of drawing room light evaporated from Draco's face, Zuko saw Draco's eyes. Steel gray eyes. They didn't look sad or angry. They looked like Nothing.
Nothing
…
Harry, Hermione, Aang, Katara, and Luna were all sitting in the Weasley kitchen. It was oddly quiet. The Weasley house had always seemed to be in motion to Harry. Dishes washing themselves, food flying from here to there, the never ceasing chattering of all the different Weasleys. Molly taking on Fred and George for what they did to the cat. Actually, where was the cat? It was strange seeing the house so calm. Another reminder of how much the world had changed before, during, and after the war. Harry sighed wistfully.
Aang looked around the Weasley house. It was amazing. He had been wary to enter the house, afterall it was leaning. But the inside was so cozy and colorful. Everything looked to be old, but not sadly old, lovingly old. Plus, there seemed to be an impossible number of floors to the place yet it didn't seem that big. It messed with the brain, and took time to adjust to. Aang looked to the right and saw a clock. He had been introduced to the concept of the clock at Hogwarts but still didn't completely understand it. THIS clock, however, didn't have JUST the "numbers" on it that he was used to, but what looked to be places. Plus it had 9 hands, not two. Each hand had a face on it. Aang squinted his eyes, he recognized Ron and Ginny, their hands and six others were stuck on "traveling" but one hand,with the face of an older teenage boy was stuck on "lost". Aang wondered if the clock was a joke.
Katara sat at the kitchen table, her hands placed strategically on the table. She wanted to make a good impression on the impending Weasley brood. She wanted to make sure they liked Aang and Team Avatar. That way, they wouldn't be too put out about housing them here. It wasn't like it was in her world, especially during the war, people were either extremely honored to have them stay, or would kill them if they found out who they were there. At least she knew where they stood. She had slowly realized she didn't really know how people who didn't know of their "legendary status" would accept the imposition of several guests to a house that, while tall, didn't seem particularly suited to hosting a large amount of people. Still, they needed a place to stay, and Katara would ensure that they had it. She would protect them.
Harry cleared his throat. "Um…so, what do you think of the house-" Harry was cut off by the sound of a car coming up the drive, upsetting the chickens.
"What is that sound, the clucking?!" Aang asked.
"Chickens." Harry answered, he and Hermione making their way to the door.
"oh, pig chickens?" Katara asked.
"No. Chickens" Hermione replied as she walked.
"Surely, you mean horse chickens." Aang said, alarmed by all the sudden motion and sounds.
Harry turned around and looked at Aang confusedly, "Er…no… chickens."
Now Team Avatar had gotten used to the idea of magical creatures but…chickens? What?
Aang and Katara looked at eachother. Aang crossed the room and sat next to Katara in the kitchen, whispering, "This place…is weird." Where was Toph when you needed her.
The car finally arrived at the driveway. Harry and Hermione stood at the front door with wide smiles. The Weasleys must have scored a ministry car. Harry and his surrogate family had been receiving a certain amount of protection from the ministry since the war. Harry had never asked for it, but Kingsley thought it was necessary.
As soon as the car stopped, the door opened and Sokka launched himself out of the car.
"SWEET, BEAUTIFUL EARTH!" Sokka said, affectionately hugging dirt.
Toph got out of the car, stepping on Sokka's back as she left. "Calm down." She said in an afterthought.
Molly looked at the pair curiously as she exited the car.
Harry stood at the doorway, Hermione by his side still smiling widely.
"Oh Harry dear! Hermione! It's lovely to see you. Have you seen how Hogwarts has been starving our guests?" Molly said embarrassed, gesturing towards Toph who just shrugged, not sure if she should start to be offended.
"Hi Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, god he missed that woman sometimes. He ran up to hug her.
Molly quickly kissed him and hugged Hermione, then brushed past them, no doubt headed for the kitchen to start cooking.
Bill and Charlie quickly exited the car, looking displeased. They headed straight for the house, without a word. Harry watched them go.
Ginny and Ron exited, and Harry found his chest burned at the sight of Ginny. Hermione seemed to have the same reaction, as she made a small squeaking sound. The several hours apart seemed to heighten their anxiety around each other. Ron and Ginny didn't look any less comfortable.
"Harry! I thought you'd still be at Grimmauld Place…where are the rest of our guests then?" Mr. Weasley said as he exited the car and, flicking his wand, the luggage sprouted from the trunk and followed him.
"Grimmauld-" Harry started before being interrupted by Ron.
"Right! I let Dad know you were stopping by there, bloody quick turn around mate." Ron reddened slightly, he hadn't called Harry 'mate' in a long time. He had never really thought about how much he called Harry by that term and felt rather uncomfortable about the fact that he was now cognizant of it, uncomfortable and, for some reason, a little sad.
"Er…yea. Well, everyone is inside." Harry said, looking at Ron for a moment. "They're all excited to meet everyone."
"Where is George?" Hermione said, immediately turning pink afterwards. George had become a sensitive subject after the war. He started out as inconsolable. The funeral was especially difficult, not only did George have to say goodbye to the closest person in his life, he also had to look at himself. He was an identical twin, in seeing Fred lying lifelessly in that coffin, he saw himself as well in the physical and emotional sense. He stayed at the Burrow in the beginning, refusing to leave the room he had shared with his brother, his mother taking care of him every second of the day, Ron and Arthur taking care of the shop that had meant the world to Fred. Sometimes Molly would walk in on George, just staring at himself in the mirror, not speaking or moving. He had started carrying a mirror around with him as he got better, as if through it he could see Fred again. In himself, he could see Fred again. Although he was back living in their flat above the shop, although he had returned to running his business, he still carried that mirror. George was a sensitive topic.
Arthur sighed a bit, smiling somewhat to alleviate Hermione's anxiety. "He'll be along later. Had some things to take care of."
Hermione nodded uncomfortably, then Harry motioned for Arthur to follow.
Sokka and Toph stood outside gawking at "The Burrow."
"Are my feet wrong…or is that house leaning?" Toph said, her head cocked to the side.
"Nope…that's a leaning house." Sokka said. "Why is it that EVERYWHERE we go, there is something weird about it? I mean, like, EVERYWHERE."
Harry ushered Arthur in the house while Ron and Ginny moved quickly to Team Avatar.
"Calm down, it's perfectly safe. Magic mate." Ron said quietly. Actually, Ron had never thought of his house as seeming unsafe…it was sort of offensive. Ron smirked in annoyed amusement.
Finally, Sokka entered the Weasley house for the first time. The only words he could think of to describe it was…oddly cozy. He looked up to see a ridiculous number of floors and yet it seemed so small. Perhaps it was because of all the knicknacks and trinkets that so littered the house.
"This place…is weird." Toph said, squeezing her toes against the floor as if she couldn't believe what she was feeling.
Sokka wandered into the living room, there was a tree in there, decorated with doo dads, a small flying bearded man dressed in red flew around the tree, humming 'ho ho ho' musically. What the hell was this? Why was there a tree in the living room? Who was that tiny man? Hogwarts had the same thing in the Great Hall. For some reason, in this world, people just put trees in rooms.
"Christmas tree." Said a voice behind Sokka. He swung around seeing Ron smiling, admiring the tree.
"Yeaaaaa, what?" Sokka said, turning back towards the tree.
"Do you have traditions in your world? Like celebrations that involve certain things?" Ron asked.
Sokka thought. There was the rite of passage ritual in his tribe, and "Avatar Day"- the worst tradition ever. Sokka nodded.
"Well, Christmas is a religious tradition. A spiritual tradition, if you will. We celebrate by giving presents and putting up a tree that we decorate. It's just a tradition mate."
"So…you celebrate the spirits by chopping down a tree? Hei Bai would kill us all if he knew…" Sokka mumbled thoughtfully.
"Hei Bai?" Ron queried.
"Ah…he's a spirit, kidnapped me once and took me to the spirit world cuz the Fire Nation burned down his forest." Sokka replied non-chalantly. "He's pretty cool though, once you get on his good side."
"…what?!" Ron replied.
Sokka laughed. "Just…nothin."
Ron shrugged. "Well anyway. Happy first Christmas." Ron said and he patted Sokka on the back in a manly way before walking into the kitchen where everyone was congregated.
Sokka stayed, checking out the 'Chrispy tree' before moving to the fireplace and looking at the pictures above it. He lingered on a picture of two identical twins who looked a little older than Team Potter. "Sweet Spirits, how many Weasley kids are there?" He muttered.
"Currently, six." Said a bitter voice behind him.
Sokka swung around again, expecting to see Ron. Instead he saw one of the twin boys from the picture. "Er…"
"Do I know you?" The guy said a bit impatiently.
"Um…no. Name's Wang. Wang Fire. I'm from…the North Pole?" Sokka smiled triumphantly at remembering his back story. "We're here with Ron, we're suppose to be staying here for the…holidays. Thank you for your hospitality." Sokka quickly bowed.
The guy looked at him strangely, did he just bow? "I'm George. Ron's older brother."
"Yea, I figured from the picture, so where's your twin? Is he coming for holidays?" Sokka said, trying to make the conversation more casual.
George looked at him in a horrified manner. EVERYONE knew where Fred was. It was magical history. Was the North Pole that remote? Was he making fun of him? Who would do that? The family didn't speak of Fred around George, mostly because George would throw a tantrum upon hearing the name. George never spoke of Fred, mostly because it hurt too much, he wasn't ready. It had been a long time since anyone had said Fred's name to his face. It had been a long time since he met someone who didn't recognize the sacrifice his brother had made. Anger started to grow inside him, whether it was from the fact that this stranger was ignorant of his noble brother's death, or because he had reminded him of Fred's sacrifice. He looked at Wang Fire, about to rip him a new one when he saw the genuine smile on his face. He really didn't know. And suddenly he thought of Fred and his anger subsided as a new idea was born in him, an idea that emanated from a part of him that he thought had been buried with his brother. An idea Fred would have loved.
"He's not here yet." George said casually. "But could you do me a favor?"
"Um…" Sokka was cut off.
George pulled a little mirror out of his pocket. "Could you give this to him when he gets here?"
Sokka took the mirror cautiously. "Um…sure."
"And do me a favor, don't mention it to anyone. The mirror has special…properties. Yea, that's it. Properties. If my mum or family find out, they'd have a fit. You know how families are. I mean, the mirror isn't dangerous or anything, but let's just say…it's an inside joke between my brother and I and the family doesn't appreciate comedy much."
Sokka nodded. "I am a man who loves comedy…so what does it do?"
"I'll tell you later, I gotta attend to the family, you know how it is." George said, winking before quickly walking out of the room.
Sokka nodded confusedly before pocketing the mirror and following him. Did they just bond or something? What just happened? Still, he was intrigued. Sokka's mind quickly switched gears as his nose caught the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen.
Molly was busy to work, with Katara hovering around her.
"Can I help with anything?" Katara asked quickly before dodging to the side as several tomatoes whizzed past her to the table where a knife immediately sprang to life and started dicing them. Katara watched the scene with wonder.
"Don't be silly dear. You're a guest here!" Molly said jovially, not taking her eyes off the chicken cutlets she was prepping.
"Please, I insist! My grandmother always taught me that a guest should help with the work. It would be dishonorable not to." Katara said, ducking as a loaf of bread flew over her.
"Dishonorable?" Molly replied. She had never heard anyone speak that way. The poor girl sounded ancient. "Where are you from?" Molly said, slowly turning around to look at the girl with a curious expression.
"Um…" Katara started before Sokka cut her off.
"The North Pole! Yup!" Sokka said. "That's my sister actually, she can be a little…insistent when it comes to manners, family upbringing I guess."
Molly stared at the two for a moment before smiling warmly at Katara. Such a well behaved child. Molly didn't exactly understand the customs of the North Pole but she didn't want to offend anyone or make them feel uncomfortable. "Well…if you'd like, you can help set the table, maybe take the muffins out of the oven in about 10 minutes?"
"Great!" Katara said excitedly, glad to help her hosts. Her excitement quickly turned to confusion as she had no idea where the eating utensils were.
"Top left drawer and the cabinet over the sink dear." Molly said, smiling before returning back to her work.
Katara walked to the cabinet over the sink and quickly started grabbing plates to set the table. Molly turned and looked at her.
"Um…you can just use a setting spell dear." Molly said, perhaps she had never learned house keeping spells? "I can show you, if you like!"
Katara bit her lip, she could feel the stick she had carefully, almost lovingly, attached to her belt. "Um…that's ok…in my tribe it's a tradition to set the table with your hands! Yea…it symbolizes the spirit of sharing and community among my people! It's a um…Christmas tradition?"
Molly looked at her critically before smiling. "That sounds absolutely lovely. I would love to hear more about your culture! It sounds so warm and beautiful."
"Oh yes! We're all very close. We're a small tribe but we appreciate the traditions that make us…us." Katara said, and soon she and Molly were chatting about several actual Water tribe traditions. Molly listened in rapt attention, as she made dinner, contributing Weasley and Prewett traditions of her own while Katara set the table. Yes, they would get along just fine.
"Alright, I guess I'll show you all your rooms while Mum and Sapphire work on dinner." Ron said.
Team Avapotter started to make their way up the creaking steps, Team Avatar climbing cautiously.
"We've got a full house this Christmas. So the rooms will be a bit cramped. Bill and Charlie will be in my room. Harry, Aang, Sokka, and I will be in Percy's room, it's a bit larger. Hermione, Katara, Toph, and Ginny will be in George and Fr…in George's room." Ron became oddly silent.
"Does George know that?" Ginny said quietly.
"Dunno…but we don't really have a choice. His room is larger. He'll have to stay with Percy in Ginny's room. I suppose Mum and Dad will handle him. It's not like Bill or George will be here everyday." Ron replied.
"What do ya mean?" Sokka said. "George seems like a pretty nice guy to me."
"You met him?" Ron asked, looking at him in a worried manner.
"Uh…sure, yea." Sokka said, trying to leave out their little agreement. He quickly changed the subject, " Where's the bathroom?"
"Oh… Third floor, right off the stairs." Ron said.
Ron continued climbing, showing the gang where they would be. Finally, he stopped at the top of the stairs, Team Avatar trying to catch their breath from the ascent. "This is my room." Ron said proudly.
And then there was a bubbling groan coming from the ceiling. Team Avatar looked up in fear.
"That's just the ghoul." Hermione said, amused at their faces. "Really very sweet, just a bit…slimy."
"Ghoul?" Sokka said in a squeak.
"Kind of like a pet. He minds his own business but he makes random sounds from time to time. He's happy though." Ron replied, smiling up at the crawlspace.
"If you say so…" Aang said quietly.
Team Avapotter turned to look into Ron's small attic room. It was lovingly decorated, moving posters of the Chudley Cannons littered the walls, Sokka flinched.
"Cool room!" Aang announced, running in to examine it. He came to a picture of Ron, Hermione and Harry, smiling and waving. They all had various bandaged wounds and yet they looked so happy…and so young, at least a year or two younger than him.
"That was the end of our first year. Right after…right after I had the pleasure of meeting Voldemort the first time." Harry said, coming up behind Aang.
"Right…is that why you're all…bandaged up?" Aang said quietly.
"Yea." Ron said quietly. "Turns out Voldemort was a pretty rough wizard... and he wasn't even at full power yet."
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other sadly for a moment, briefly brought together in a moment of grief. How had they survived?
Aang sensed the sadness. "Yea…from what I heard…he was a pretty bad guy. But…look how happy you all are in this picture. Sometimes…sometimes tragedy creates a kind of love not everyone can understand." Aang sounded wiser than his years. He looked over to Sokka, who smiled back in agreement.
"And then the hero gets to make out with your sister." Sokka said, laughing awkwardly. Why did he just say that?
Aang blushed in a horrified way. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny looked away from each other. The bitterness never seems to go away.
"Dinner!" Came the voice of Mrs. Weasley from downstairs and the gang rushed out of Ron's room, wanting nothing more than a distraction from the current situation.
Team Avapotter walked in on a packed kitchen. Luna had gone, no doubt to the Rook to be with her father.
"Why don't you guys just use that extension spell thing you did on the train?" Sokka whispered to Ron. Why try to pack everyone into small rooms and tiny kitchens when they had the power to stretch reality? Sokka's ride of terror in the "car" had proven that.
Hermione chuckled. "Magic is a little more…complicated than that. It's one thing to stretch something small like a room. But multiple rooms? In a house that is already under several complicated spells? Magic can interact."
Sokka looked confused.
Hermione sighed. "Think about it like this, food has a natural taste, but if you add something, it'll change the taste. If you add too much heat, you'll burn it. The heat interacts with the properties of the food, too much of something can ruin it. Same with magic. Adding a spell to something that is already under other spells could cause a bad interaction and ruin the whole thing."
Sokka nodded slowly.
"Where's Fleur?" Harry said, trying to figure out where he would cram himself into the fully loaded table.
Bill smiled. "She's too big to travel so much, she wanted to see you all off the train but now she's back at Shell Cottage with her parents for the holidays, I'm kind of running back and forth. The cottage is too small for everyone to come over, plus I don't want to overload Fleur in her eighth month."
"Are you excited to be a dad?" Hermione said, smiling grandly.
Bill blushed and grinned a giant smile. "Yes and no. Yes, I'm excited to meet my baby and no because, I dunno, it's a baby. A little life I have to take care of."
Arthur laughed. "Son, no one is ever completely ready. But you'll get the hang of it. If it's one thing Weasleys are good at, it's raising amazing kids." Arthur looked around the table at all of his babies and then looked over to Molly, she smiled lovingly back at him. His love. The Weasley kids blushed, scarcely able to hide their smiles.
"What about you all? What are your families like?" Molly said warmly as she flicked her wand and salad starting falling on each plate.
Sokka and Katara looked at each other. Katara looked at the floor.
"Well…" Sokka started, not sure if he should. He did. "Our dad is the best. He taught me everything I know."
"Our mother died when we were young." Katara said abruptly. Everyone looked at her in surprise. "Our Gran-gran kind of took her place. She's amazing."
Sokka took her hand. "So was mom."
There was a moment of solemn silence.
"I'm so sorry. " Molly said, everyone at the table nodding in agreement.
"It's ok." Katara said quietly. "Her spirit will always be with us. The ones we love never leave us…not really. I didn't always know that…but now? Now, I'm sure of it."
Every Weasley and Team Potter looked covertly at George. He ate his salad in silence.
"My parents are kind of…royalty in our culture." Toph said suddenly, wanting to change the subject.
"Oh! How interesting!" Molly said, looking at Katara, ready to comfort her at a moment's notice.
"Yea, we didn't always have the best relationship but…I know they love me." Toph said, rolling around a tomato on her plate.
Molly looked uncomfortable, it was like a mine field with these kids. "And Aang, what about you?" She said quickly.
"I…uh…I never knew my parents." Aang said quietly. He had never really thought about the concept of parents. His culture never really dictated it. He looked up to see everyone looking sadly at him. He rushed on, "But I had a great surrogate family!" And then Aang's face fell. His people. Gone, all gone.
Everyone looked around confusedly, throwing on quasi-smiles. It was uncomfortable.
"Me too." Harry said suddenly once again reminded of how similar he and Aang were, how sadly similar. He looked lovingly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. His surrogate family. Aang did the same to Sokka, Toph, and Katara.
Molly smiled back at Harry, close to crying. She gave a sweeping look around at everyone at the table. These poor children, already having gone through so much, having to suffer at such a young age. She had not meant for the conversation to turn to one of tragedy, Christmas should be a happy time. Kids should be happy…they should always be happy. She resolved herself, she would make this a beautiful Christmas for them. She had to.
Even if only for a moment.
Author's Note. Hey kids. Been out for a minute, got a new job, stuff has been crazy and life has been difficult- That said the author's note will be short and sweet cuz I know you been waiting a while, but that's life, so much to do. Shoutouts as always to my Beta Kate and my regular readers who always shoot me a review. Enjoy, and dont ask me to update faster haha, I love ya but I have a job and I gotta pay the bills first. Later kids.