All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.
(All titles are from songs I believe suit the overall story, if not the chapter.)
The Forest of Dean, September 1997
Draco's Point of view
I was sitting on the wooden porch, on the old but cleaned and repaired couch that had been in the cabin when we first arrived, perusing an outdated Daily Prophet from late August. The headline story was about the arrest and incarceration of Alastor (Madeye) Moody. He had been apprehended by multiple Aurors and then sentenced to Azkaban for stealing and distributing Ministry information to a dangerous terrorist group that calls itself the Order of the Phoenix.
I scowled as fragments of Hermione's recollections seeped into my mind pertaining to the wizard and the group. I was aware that Hermione admired the former Auror, and the Order of the Phoenix mostly consisted of Weasleys. From what I gleamed from the memories, the group had primarily been about protecting Harry Potter, hardly terrorists. I also noted that there didn't appear to be a mention of a trial, and once again, thanks to Hermione's memories, I understood this wouldn't be the first time someone had been sent to the prison without one.
Fed up with the lies I was reading, I dumped the paper carelessly on the ground beside me, choosing instead to observe the rain that was gently falling in the forest around us. Aiden made a gurgling sound, and I gazed down at him, where he was snuggled against me in a makeshift sling. Emma had taught me how to wrap a large piece of fabric around my body and secure it with a knot, creating a cosy pouch for him to be held in.
I made certain to enhance the fabric and knot with a touch of magic for my own peace of mind, employing the 'Alligare', 'Calor', and 'Impervius Charms'. I thought the sling was ingenious, and Aiden appeared to agree. He loved being held close to someone, preferably his mother, but I was a close second, and this way I could do things like read a newspaper or eat a meal without having to put him down. I leaned down and kissed his little head, which now clearly had wispy strands of my white-blonde hair.
Emma was sitting out under a wooden structure that had been constructed, a combined effort by the Grangers, the House Elves, and myself, erected mere days prior, out the front of the cabin. The gazebo had a fire pit in the centre and a chimney through the roof for when the temperature dropped and a fire would be required. The small area also had wooden bench seats and two tables on either side of the fire pit. They were decorated with colourful cushions and tablecloths, making the area homely and inviting.
She was currently having a discussion with her new friend, the squib woman, Alice Smith. Mrs. Smith's two little girls were running happily around the structure, their laughter echoing through the air as they darted out into the light rain. I wasn't certain where her son was but hoped he was off reading the first-year books I had given him since he wasn't able to attend Hogwarts as he should be. Because of the way the warm breeze was blowing, I could hear most of their conversation. Thankfully, most of what they were talking about wasn't of a sensitive nature, so I didn't feel too bad overhearing it.
Dan was off talking with Vasanos and going over the patrol schedule again. Our numbers had grown in the month we had been here: twenty-three wizards and five witches, not counting the Grangers, four children, one baby, the squib couple, nine House Elves, and a small herd of Centaurs. All able-bodied adults, despite their diverse backgrounds and varying degrees of magical ability, had agreed to take shifts to watch the perimeter of our forest Haven.
We did have six witches, but Luna had insisted on returning to Hogwarts, saying something about being an embedded journalist. I wished her luck and hoped she would be safe for the sake of Hermione and Aiden. I entrusted her with a letter to give to Sev if she ever got the opportunity to pass it on.
I was surprised by Luna's easy acceptance of the request, but I had wanted him to be aware of our safety, and should he ever need somewhere safe himself, I would do what I could to make that possible. I hoped if it came to that, it wouldn't cause a riot in the camp, but I was certain the Grangers would welcome him into our cabin if nothing else.
I was contemplating what I would do with myself after Aiden was fed and asleep. He'd be desiring both very shortly, and then I would be alone again, attempting not to think about his mother or ponder on where she was? what she was doing? was she safe? did she miss me as much as I missed her?
With a sigh, I shook off the thoughts and looked back at the talking women. I noticed that one of the witches, a brunette similar in age to the other women with a friendly smile, had joined them while I had been wool-gathering. To the pair she was seated with, however, she would appear much younger thanks to the extended lives of magicals.
I decided right then that the first thing I would do after Aiden was asleep was meditate and focus on my Occlumency. It was such a frustrating and delicate discipline that if I didn't consciously maintain it, it would almost dissolve from the mind. Not that that was a negative thing; humans were supposed to have emotions, but there really were times when I wished I was devoid of them, when they were hard to bear, and wished Occlumency would require a little less work to keep them at bay.
Aiden emitted another gurgle, and I grinned down at him. I accepted that for him, I would always want to feel. I was still shocked at the depth of my feelings for my little fire dragon. I had loved him from the moment I became aware he existed, but to observe him, to hold him, to feel the warmth of his breath and the softness of his skin, it merely added an entirely new layer to those feelings that was beyond amazing. It made me love Hermione all the more because she gave him to me.
"Can't you just use a Contraceptive Charm?" The witch, whose name escaped me, queried Alice Smith, displaying a striking lack of understanding of the person she was addressing. 'Home-schooled Muggle-born,' I thought in disgust and then winced at my own prejudice. I was genuinely striving to overcome this ingrained belief in blood superiority, but such ignorance annoyed me.
I also had to assume that the ignorance wasn't the witch's fault. She appeared to be of the right age to be a home-taught Muggle-born. It wasn't common knowledge, but many Muggle-borns hadn't attended Hogwarts during the Dark Lord's first war. My father had been most displeased when they were all revealed after Voldemort was presumed dead and brought back to fill the vacancies left by the deceased. I drew in a calming breath, deliberately pushing thoughts of my father to the back of my mind. Now was not the time for such reflections.
"Oh, that would be romantic. 'Wait a moment, darling; I just need to duck out and see my new friend. I'm certain she won't mind me asking her to cast a Contraceptive Charm on me'," Mrs. Smith quipped, and then all three of them erupted into laughter. I arched an eyebrow in astonishment at the shift in conversation, or what I thought to be a shift, given that I was once again lost in my own thoughts for a second time in a matter of minutes.
I stood up, deciding that perhaps I would retreat indoors before this conversation progressed any further. I opened the door to the cabin, but before I could step inside, I heard Emma call out to me. I turned back to find her gaze fixed on me while the two who couldn't were observing her.
"Yes?" I responded, my eyes meeting her green-hazel ones.
"Do you know if there are any Contraceptive Potions? Alice's pills are almost out," she informed me, causing me to furrow my brow, unsure what pills were.
"No, I've never heard of one. We rely on charms," I told her.
"Oh," she uttered with a frown of disappointment.
"What did he say?" the witch inquired. It was amusing that I could hear and observe them while they couldn't perceive me. This cabin was really incredibly protected, being under a Fidelius Charm, encircled by another, and adding on top of that the Centaur magic, I was absolutely certain no one would ever find Aiden or the Grangers.
"He said there are not any," she relayed to her companions. Mrs. Smith appeared disheartened, and the witch seemed sympathetic.
"Would it really be so bad if you got pregnant?" The witch questioned her.
"I tend to have difficult pregnancies, or I would have loved another. Also, I don't think this would be the best time," Mrs. Smith responded, her voice laced with concern, while the other two nodded in agreement.
This sparked a thought in me. I was aware of the old research in this area, but no one had bothered to brew anything when the charms were foolproof. I chuckled as I cast my eyes down at Aiden, who had smacked his tiny arm into my chest. Well, it was foolproof if you weren't in a room that negated wanded magic. I went into the cabin, leaving the ladies to their conversation, and decided that after my Occlumency practice, perhaps I might attempt creating a new potion. A Contraceptive Potion.
I attempted to sleep, but my mouth tasted like Hermione's toothpaste, and I found myself incessantly twirling my wedding ring around my finger with my thumb, a long-standing habit that had intensified lately, and I appeared unable to break it when she was on my mind.
My gaze was also irresistibly drawn to the dreamcatcher on the headboard above me. Even glancing over at Aiden, who was sound asleep with that brown teddy in his crib, made me think of her, and I couldn't stand the loneliness and longing.
I considered going for a run, as I had begun doing in the mornings after Aiden was fed, but realised that wouldn't be a smart thing to do in the dark of the still barely familiar forest.
Running was not a very common practice in the magical world and would have been viewed as a weakness by those in Slytherin House, but I found that with physical activity I could ignore the constant ache of wanting my wife.
It also wasn't my night to patrol, but the Centaurs and others around the camp were beginning to get used to the sight of me walking the border despite that. I still got wary glances of distrust from some of the wizards, but none of the witches appeared bothered by me, and the Centaurs didn't care who was helping as long as you didn't attempt to enter their small slice of territory uninvited.
For Centaurs, this group was surprisingly friendly with all of us, which was a strange contrast to how I had been taught Centaurs viewed witches and wizards. I remembered the only time I had witnessed the Centaurs in the forbidden forest. It had been during a detention that I still thought I shouldn't have been serving. My own fault, of course. At eleven, I hadn't known how to get Potter into trouble for being out of bed without exposing myself. Amazing what a couple years will do for perspective.
In all honesty, I've come to realise that I wouldn't waste my time attempting to get Potter into trouble, but I had spent so much time being hurt by his rejection of my offer of friendship that I developed an obsession with getting him back for it.
It all seems rather foolish in retrospect, but unfortunately, the past couldn't change, and I doubted that we could have been friends anyway. Too many factors would have been against that possibility then, but for Hermione's sake, I would make every effort to forget the past and move forward. There was so much I was willing to do for her that even I was surprised by the notion.
Not knowing what led me down that thought path, I shook it off and got up to get dressed. I went over and checked on Aiden again, adjusting his little blanket and making certain nothing was too close to him. Even the teddy was up in a top corner, well away from him where he lay sleeping down the bottom of the cot.
It was strange to gaze down at him, aware that I had held half-bloods in low esteem for most of my life, yet I loved my son with a fury and was certain that if anyone threw his blood status at him as I once would have, I would make them pay dearly for the insult. I left the room and summoned Jomny, so he would watch Aiden, and reminded him to come and get me at once if he did wake.
Once outside the comforting confines of the cabin and beyond its protective boundary, Goyle—or rather, Greg, as I was still struggling to accustom myself to referring to him—glanced up at me as he was doing a sweep past this section of the border.
As it turned out, we were almost on the edge of the protected land, a mere 100 metres in front of us. The nearest stretch of lake was approximately 700 metres to our right, but the Centaurs had claimed a few kilometres of that. We also held over roughly 6 kilometres to our left and a bit more behind us. Despite the ample space available for dispersion, most had opted to remain in close proximity to this location.
The furthest dwellings were those of Greg and his sister Druella, who had a little cabin built closer to the lake, neighbouring the Centaurs' territory, and the Lovegoods' home, which was placed deeper in the forest, about two kilometres behind and to the left of us, where there was also a small clearing.
Greg and I exchanged nods but maintained silence, aware that most were attempting to sleep at this late hour, and it was only courteous to minimise noise. He continued on his path back towards the lake, so I chose to walk the perimeter, going left. I had been walking for about twenty minutes, having passed another wizard and two Centaurs, simply nodding in silent acknowledgement of each other. Vasanos, I understood, was extremely optimistic about the joint patrols, especially since the Centaurs and humans were all working together on this and getting along.
I walked for a few more minutes, and thunder rumbled overhead. The night was humid, and I hoped the rain would begin soon merely to get rid of the heavy feeling in the night air. I came to a pause when I spotted a young wizard stacking wood in an obvious attempt to build a fire. A Muggle device cast a pool of light around the area, illuminating the bag he had placed nearby.
I observed him for a couple more minutes; it wouldn't do to rush out and find that he was actually a Snatcher and others were merely off collecting firewood. I found it peculiar to be concerned about a fire at such a late hour, but I soon concluded that he was alone. I thought about freeing my wand but then decided against it. If the need arose, a simple flick of my wrist would suffice to summon it to my palm.
Decided, I stepped out past the protective wards, certain I had found another escaping from the war and pondering how many more would join us before I got to be reunited with Hermione. To him, it merely would have appeared as though I had emerged from the trees naturally. He stiffened and glanced over at me, and then began to speak before I even had a chance to offer a greeting.
"If we can't call that dark wanker slash wizard by his assumed name and I refuse to say that mouthful, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, blah blah blah, I say we just call him knob jockey. Hi, I'm William Collins. Call me Will," he said in an easy tone and Australian accent, then stepped closer, extending his hand for a handshake.
He appeared to be a few years my senior, likely in his early twenties. He was dressed as a Muggle and appeared comfortable in the attire, with his brown hair and hazel eyes. A stocky wizard of about five feet five, but his face bore an easy, open smile, as if the worries of the war hadn't really affected him in the slightest.
"Draco Malfoy," I introduced myself, a hint of bewilderment creeping into my tone as I firmly clasped the young wizard's proffered hand. I liked him immediately, a sensation that was peculiar in itself, but I did wonder why his wand wasn't out.
"Oh, I know who you are. Evil pureblood, right?" He said with a teasing grin, and that was when I noticed him deftly tuck his wand back into his trousers' pocket. He had been holding it in such a way that I hadn't noticed it held in his hand by his leg. I chose not to remark on the skill or why he appeared confident enough to put it away now.
"Hopefully not so evil now," I retorted, surprising even myself with my light-hearted banter, and sank to sit on the log he pointed to.
"A constant struggle for some people," he said, still amused even as he went back to the construction of his impending fire.
"I don't recall your presence at Hogwarts," I told him. His response was a grin directed my way.
"First years barely ever remember the older students. I was a sixth-year Gryffindor when you started. You even tried bullying me one day. It was adorable really," he said with a condescending tone, but his eyes were still full of amusement. "You looked like a little blonde albino with a look on your face as though you smelled something foul. I didn't take offence; I figured it was just the two Neanderthals you were trying to impress at the time that caused the look on your face," he told me.
I tilted my head to the side, endeavouring to decide if he was deliberately attempting to provoke me to anger. But then his grin widened, and it dawned on me that this young wizard was simply fond of his teasing jokes.
"The expression was more likely a result of my distaste for the hideous colours you were wearing. I mean, who in their right mind would pair scarlet and gold? You're fortunate you're not a Weasley. The clash of hues was truly hard to witness then," I retorted, eliciting a hearty laugh from him.
"I must admit, if I got to choose my House just based on colour scheme, I would have picked Slytherin, but I don't think I'd like all the brooding you blokes engage in, and a sneer just doesn't look good on my face. Give me a Gryffindor party any night of the week, and I will wear any damned colour they want me to," he said happily.
"What's brought you to Dean Forest?" I inquired of him.
"Same as you, I expect," he said, gesturing towards my neck. I was taken aback at that, surprised he could perceive it with his small amount of light. Maybe the long scar was more visible than I had realised. "Who gave you the cursed scar, or were you just competing with the boy-who-lived on who could look the most badass?" he inquired with another chuckle, making me grin again. His happiness appeared to be infectious.
"I've been informed that scars are all the rage this season, and I thought, who requires a bow tie for a ball when I can sport this piece of decoration instead?" I quipped with a drawl. Typically, I ignored the scar, feigned its nonexistence. I certainly didn't anticipate joking about it at any point, ever.
"Definitely more impressive-looking than Potters, but I don't know if I would have risked it myself," he informed me, and for the first time gave me a pitying expression. It passed quickly, however, and he was grinning once more. "You know, I thought you were a Snatcher at first, and I was done for, but I refuse to be a coward, so planned to go out in a blaze of glory. The moment you shook my hand, though, I knew I was safe no matter who you are," he told me.
"Definitely not a Snatcher," I assured him.
"The first thing I noticed, to be honest, was the wedding ring. It's a Muggle custom; I was fairly confident that even you wouldn't be wearing that if you were the same little snot from my school days," he said to me, his face split into a wide, teasing grin.
At that, I found myself automatically rotating the ring around my finger with my thumb, but I questioned him, "Are you deliberately attempting to provoke me?"
"Just bored, I guess," he responded with a chuckle. I found this wizard to be peculiar, yet oddly likeable.
"You're a very strange person," I told him, and his grin only widened at that. I shook my head, then offered, "A few acquaintances and I have established a Haven in these trees if you are interested in joining us."
"You probably don't want to do that, mate," he said, casting an odd glance at the overcast night sky before returning his meaningful stare to me.
"Werewolf," I said and was annoyed with myself for missing the few scars I could discern on his face and hands in the beam of light. The full moon was only a few days away.
"Yes," he replied with a heaviness.
"Are you a Snatcher?" I inquired as calmly as I could, even though he had wondered the same about me. He shook his head at once.
"No, but a band of them have been pretty persistent in their want of me to join them. They don't have many magic users, you see," he told me.
"How long ago were you turned?" I asked.
"Easter break before I completed Hogwarts a few years back. Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to make sure I was still able to study independently from home and then take my exams. Didn't make much of a difference at the end of the day. I had been planning on becoming an Unspeakable, but even they won't or can't take Werewolves," he explained.
I surveyed the dark clearing uncomfortably, not completely certain what to do. On one hand, Werewolves were incredibly dangerous, even when it wasn't the full moon, but on the other, Vasanos wanted all who needed safety to be invited into our Haven.
I would have greatly preferred not to have anything as dangerous as this person anywhere near my son, but I also understood that it wasn't solely my decision to make. I also harboured a sinking suspicion about what the Centaur leader's stance on the matter would be.
"I assume you realise just how dangerous you are to be around?" I posed to him.
"I received an 'O' in DADA for my N.E.W.T.," he told me with a nod.
"And yet you shook my hand," I accused him. He held out his hand as if to show me, but it was too dark to view much about it.
"I have bitten my nails down so much they barely exist," he told me seriously, and even in the dark, I could discern his frown as he regarded his own hand.
"Where is your family?" I inquired. His lack of extensive scarring suggested that he had been cared for by someone during most of the full moons. The lack also lent to the fact that he had likely had access to the use of 'Wolfs Bane Potion' in the past.
"You can probably tell from my accent that I am originally from Australia. My parents and siblings moved back there last year when my dad's term as ambassador came to an end. Unfortunately, his position didn't make the laws change for me. Australia only has a small, controlled population of Werewolves, and it can take years for an immigration request to be approved for someone with Lycanthrope," he explained.
"But you are already a citizen of that country?" I said in confusion, but he shook his head.
"Australian law states that the infection kills the infected individual and creates a new one. I may carry the same name and birthday, but as far as they are concerned, the wizard known as William John Collins is dead, and I am just another Werewolf trying to gain entrance to their country," he said sadly.
"I wasn't aware of that," I replied with a frown and peering into the darkness of the forest once again, uncomfortable being out here for so long.
Sounding grave for the first time, he said, "You can go if you want." I cast a glance back at him, only to find him watching me with dejection. "I wouldn't want to bring trouble down on more people."
"I assure you; you wouldn't be able to cause us trouble even if you desired to. Our shelters are protected by a Fidelius Charm and Centaur magic," I informed him, confident in my claim while he was unchanged.
"Smart," he said with a grin, and I was surprised he recognised the name of the ritual. Not many did. I certainly hadn't.
"You're aware of it?" I questioned.
"I was in Flitwick's advanced charms class, and if it wasn't for the ambitions I had at the time, I could have done a mastery with him," he explained.
"Impressive," I said, then rose to my feet. "Follow me; I have someone to introduce you to." His fire preparation had all but been forgotten, and I decided it would be safer to invite him into the protected area now than to wait for him to remember it once again. I was certain I would be able to locate one of the Centaurs; I had seen Magorian not far from here.
"You sure?" he asked again, even as he collected his bag and performed some action that extinguished the light, leaving me completely blind for a moment. I stood immobilised, releasing my wand as a precaution, but by the stillness, I was aware he hadn't moved either. I blinked a few times, and my vision returned, albeit not as sharp as before, but I was certain it would soon recover. The darkness appeared to restore some of my rationality, and I immediately employed my Occlumency.
"If you prove untrustworthy or dangerous, I will not be the only one you have to contend with," I warned him sternly, finally exercising caution. I couldn't help but wonder if he had cast some sort of enchantment that made people inclined to trust him.
"Got it," he responded with a nonchalant nod. I studied him for a moment longer, but I was eager to return within the protected boundary. I held my wand at the ready as he walked quietly beside me, following the same general direction but not precisely the same footsteps of the path I had previously tread.
As I had been certain would happen, Morrigan was happy to allow the newcomer to cross into our protected land after he agreed to the creation of a cage to hold him on the full moon. He whispered the secret into the young wizard's ear, and Will smiled again as he saw the slight change to the scenery.
"I may have heard of the Fidelius, but I have never seen it. It really is an impressive piece of magic."
"Yes, it is," I concurred. "Do you have a tent?"
"Yep," he said easily.
"Pitch it anywhere you want. You'll be able to discern the protected area now," I told him.
"Thanks," he said, and then ambled away.
I was already in my potion's lab tinkering with my latest attempt at the 'Contraceptive Potion' when Dan descended with Aiden cradled in his arms. Jacob Smith trailed behind him, an expression of uncertainty etched on his face as he glanced around. I was comforted by the sight of Aiden, yet I made certain to keep my composure and not show how much his return from outside without me settled my nerves.
"Are you prepared to begin, Mr. Smith?" I queried the lad in a gentle tone, once he was beside me at the workstation. The young wizard peered at me with wide hazel eyes but nodded. He was a small, skinny child, all arms and legs with dirty blonde hair. "Have you read the first chapter of the potions book I gave you?"
"Mostly," he said with a sheepish shrug. I merely regarded him and had to fight my inner Sev. It irked me to realise this fledgling wizard had plenty of time to do such a simple thing, yet he had chosen not to. I glanced up at Dan on the stairs, and he grinned at me.
"Mind if I stay and watch?" he inquired. Aiden was resting on his shoulder, but his little face was turned towards me as he chewed on his fist. I noticed that his eyes appeared to be getting darker, but then pushed thoughts of my son away.
"Not at all," I said. He nodded and sat on the step.
I spent time going over the cure for boils with the boy, and I was pleasantly surprised that he was listening attentively. He even posed clarifying questions that showed he really did want to learn. I proceeded to aid him in setting up the cauldron, yet I couldn't help but notice a glaring issue, a detail I kept to myself.
The child never got an opportunity to get his wand, and though it isn't a necessity for potions, having one teaches your magic to travel to your dominant hand. Without one, magic tended to leak from everywhere in an untrained magical child without concern for where it was directed. I briefly thought of that hatbox full of them at Hogwarts in the Room of Requirement and even all the ones that were in the Malfoy vault.
Wands tended to be tricky things. They prefer to pledge their allegiance to a single witch or wizard, but given sufficient time, they may be persuaded to partner with a new master. After all, wands are eternal, barring any damage, and it only stands to reason that they possess the capacity to move on. The sole exception I had even heard of was unicorn hair. Those wands never accepted someone new wielding them.
"Remember, precision is key," I told him half an hour later, as he had almost completed his first potion. "Potions isn't merely about following the recipe. It's about understanding the essence of each ingredient, the harmony in their interactions."
"Okay," Jacob Smith said as he picked up the pewter spoon.
"Do you understand why you are using this spoon?"
"Because the potion will not be absorbed by this metal or affected by it?" he said as a question.
"Correct," I told him, choosing to ignore the questioning tone, and he grinned at me. "Now, stir seven times clockwise—no more, no less," I instructed, watching as he carefully followed my directions. As the potion began to emit a soft blue glow, indicating its successful completion, I wanted to sigh in relief. I didn't want to confuse the young wizard by getting him to use blood. I understood I was going to have to do something about the situation soon, but for now everything had worked out.
"I did it!" Jacob Smith exclaimed excitedly, and Dan chuckled at his enthusiasm from where he was sitting on the step.
"Well done," I said, allowing a hint of warmth to seep into my voice. "Remember, the journey of mastering potions is a long one. Today, you've taken your first step." I almost cringed at hearing myself say that, but I remembered Sev saying the same thing to me once, many years ago.
"This was awesome. Thanks, Mr. Lord!" he said, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise at the name while Dan laughed loudly.
"Mr. Lord, I love it. It's almost as good as 'your highness'," Dan laughed.
"Dan…" I began, but his gaze was directed towards Jacob Smith, who bore an expression of bemusement intermingled with confusion.
"Promise me you will always call him that! It suits him," he told the boy. I narrowed my eyes at my father-in-law.
"I will," Jacob Smith replied with a chuckle, but his smile faded as he caught sight of my disapproving expression. He appeared subdued, but I could perceive the humour around his eyes.
"You will address me as Lord Malfoy," I told him in my best Severus Snape imitation. The boy gulped and began to nod, but Dan laughed louder, drawing his attention.
"Don't listen to him, kid. He is Mr. Lord, and I'll make sure I'm close by, so you don't need to worry about him being grumpy," he said.
"Dan," I attempted once more, yet he persisted in his disregard of me.
"Don't worry, kid. I'll tell my daughter if he is mean to you," he said, making me shake my head at the man's antics. He was also encouraging disrespect, which I firmly believed to be an unwise idea.
"Your daughter?" the boy inquired with interest.
"Yep. Mr. Lord's wife and little Aiden, here's mum," he told the boy.
"Oh," the boy said, sounding unsure again.
"Mr. Smith. You have done well today, but I would like you to write me a report on what you accomplished," I told him, choosing to ignore my father-in-law's teasing. Obviously, the absence of his wife was affecting his brain. Emma and a group of others had taken to swimming in the lake daily. For her, it had become a necessity, but Dan and I were both grateful she wasn't alone as she did so.
"Homework?" the boy whined.
"Yes," I replied with a smirk.
"Dr. Granger, can you tell your daughter about this?" he pleaded, and I did grin at that. The little Imp thought he could wheedle his way out of homework with blackmail. I liked that.
"Can't help you with that one, kiddo. My daughter loves all things to do with learning," he replied.
"Even homework?" the boy said in disbelief.
"Even homework," her father agreed.
"Weird," the boy said, and I almost had the urge to laugh at that, while Dan grinned at him.
"I want that homework to me in two days, and if I believe you have grasped everything sufficiently, we'll move on to the next potion," I told him.
"Okay," the boy said.
"And read the next chapter," I instructed him. He regarded me with wide eyes once more, appearing as though he wished to argue, but at my raised eyebrow, he snapped his mouth closed again and nodded. I was aware he really needed instruction in other subjects also, but I didn't believe I would be the right person to help him with them.
"Come on, kid. I'll take you back to your dad," Dan said, getting to his feet. I went and took Aiden from him. He was sleeping once more, but he would be due for a feed again shortly. I decided to quickly go into my bedroom and change him, merely to get that done.
When I came back out, leaving the door ajar so I would hear Aiden when he woke shortly, I found Dan wandering around, observing all the potions' paraphernalia.
"What's this?" he inquired, pointing to the softly simmering potions that I was still working on.
"Alice Smith needs a contraceptive potion, but it isn't going well," I admitted.
"I would have thought you people would have perfected this sort of thing," he said as he picked up a pewter spoon.
"The charm has been around for hundreds of years. A few papers were written with speculation on what would be required, but nobody bothered to attempt it as far as I can tell," I replied. He merely nodded and began examining the various jars of ingredients I had on the shelves.
"I was impressed with how you taught young Jacob today. I get the feeling you are not the type who usually likes to teach," he said without scorn.
"Patience is not always my best quality," I agreed as I waved my wand to clean the area of Mr. Smith's first potions lesson.
"Why didn't you have the boy clean up after himself?" he inquired with renewed interest.
"In a classroom setting, I would have, but he doesn't have a wand. I require time to devise a strategy to secure one for him, or have one of the House Elves install a sink down here," I told him. Getting some wands from the Malfoy vault wouldn't be hard for Jomny to do, but I couldn't imagine the squib-born child would be compatible with one any of my family members had once used.
"I must admit. You are much different than I initially thought you to be," he told me. And then he peered at my face, and his eyes were sharp and probing.
"How do you do that?" he inquired suddenly. "I have seen you emotional, so I know you are capable of it, but lately you seem to bury your emotions. Even your smiles don't seem real," he told me with a shake of his head. "I didn't think it was possible, but I actually preferred the smug, arrogant little shit you were when Hermione was around. For the last few weeks, you have been emotionless most of the time." Then he tilted his head and said, "Well, unless you are holding Aiden."
I shut my eyes, drew back on my Occlumency, and stretched out my neck. I had been leaning on the skill heavily of late, but if it was becoming so conspicuous that even a non-magical could discern it, then I was clearly taking it too far.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring into Dan Granger's brown orbs. They may have been the same colour as Hermione's, but his were much more piercing. He observed me with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"That," he declared, "was terrifying." I flashed a grin at him, eliciting a chuckle in response.
"I apologise," I said, and I did feel sorry I had disturbed him.
"You have been through a lot, Draco, and I understand that in your world you are considered a man, but I look at you and I see a scared teenage boy," he told me, and I couldn't help but sneer at that, which made him grin back.
He wasn't wrong, of course. I was scared—more than I would ever admit. Scared of losing Hermione, scared of failing Aiden, scared of facing my past. But I couldn't let him see that. I had to be strong, to be in control, to be a Malfoy. Whatever that meant now.
"I am not trying to upset you; just explain how I see things. Hell, even a man my age would be struggling with the things you have been through. You faced death recently and have never said a word about it. You also lost your father, and while I never met him, from what I have heard, that is only a good thing. But if he loved you even half as much as I love my daughter, then you must have loved him too."
I grimaced, my gaze falling on the potions on the table. I had no desire to contemplate my father or what had happened to me. My feelings about my father were much too complicated, and when I did reflect on him, I would swing from one extreme to another.
As for almost dying, it had been a constant companion for so long that it had become rather mundane. The relief and gratitude I felt for what I now possessed was…indescribable. I never dared to truly believe that I could have a life with Hermione and Aiden. The turn of events, therefore, felt like a blessing in disguise, a gift I'm certain the Dark Lord would have withheld had he known the joy it would bring me.
"You need to make sure you grieve, Draco, or you will become angry and bitter one day," he told me.
"Anger and bitterness have always been my faithful companions," I shared, a hint of jest in my tone, and he chucked again.
"If that was true, my daughter wouldn't put up with you." He had a point there. Hermione brought out in me the person I wanted to be now—someone good. She had made me want to live when I wasn't certain there was a point to life anymore. She loved me even after all I had put her through. No one could stir joy within me the way Hermione did.
"I was a tormentor," I admitted with disgust, as images of Hermione from the early years flickered through my memory. The sting of remorse still hit me when I remembered the hurt etched on her face each time I spitefully referred to her as 'mud-blood'.
"I could figure that out for myself. You're superior and egotistical, but there must be something good about you," he told me. I wasn't certain about that and wanted to move away from this subject.
"Perhaps it's merely my exceptionally handsome features she likes," I quipped, a smirk playing on my lips. His laughter echoed through the room, a welcome reprieve from the heavy conversation.
"If it were anyone but my daughter, I would have no doubt about that," he told me, still sounding amused. "But I also know that if that was all you had going for you, Hermione would have quickly become bored with you and moved on."
"True," I agreed with an unconcerned shrug. Hermione was not shallow; she was not vain; she was not superficial. She cared about intelligence, about kindness, about courage. She cared about things that mattered, things that I lacked, and yet even after our bonding and she had seen who I really was, she still loved me.
"You bullied my daughter, didn't you?" He inquired with an air of curiosity rather than accusation in his tone. I studied him, attempting to decipher his intentions as he leaned nonchalantly against the table, arms and legs crossed. His demeanour was devoid of anger, merely an inquisitive interest. It was clear why Severus would have pegged him for a Slytherin had he been a wizard. He was a man who seldom allowed emotions to cloud his judgement.
"I did," I admitted, self-loathing once again settling into my tone.
"Occasionally, I'd catch snippets of her conversations with her mother. It was clear she was being bullied, even though she tried to hide it from me. She rarely spoke about her school, or anyone associated with it really, especially when I was around," he admitted, shrugging off the memory. However, I couldn't help but observe the subtle hint of guilt that shadowed his eyes.
"It was my fault, of course. I was livid when she was turned to stone, but my anger had been simmering since the previous year, when she was nearly killed by a Troll. I still don't even know what that is exactly, except that it was a huge creature that almost killed her. But when she was turned to stone, leaving us helpless and unable to even see her, I reached my breaking point. I was adamant that she would never set foot in that school again."
"I told Hermione she wasn't returning. My stubbornness brought my little girl to tears. She had found her first friends at that school and feared the loneliness that awaited her if she left. Despite this, I stood my ground. Emma, although she was scared too, became furious with me for how I dealt with the situation and wouldn't speak to me for a week."
"You can't imagine how awkward that is when you also work together. We had a bunch of meddlesome staff members who seemed to find entertainment in my situation. It was painfully obvious to them that I was in the doghouse, and they didn't bother to hide their amusement. Their blatant lack of professionalism was infuriating, and I was seriously tempted to fire the lot of them, but Emma becomes attached to people, so I gritted my teeth and ignored the morons. To make matters worse, Hermione was becoming withdrawn."
"So, you capitulated," I deduced, even though I was aware I would have acted on the urge to dismiss any disrespectful subordinates without hesitation. The sound of Dan's snort brought another smirk to my face.
"Hardly," he retorted, a bitter edge to his voice. "I had no intention of sending my daughter back to that place. It was Arthur Weasley. He came and spoke to me. Well, after he stopped asking endless questions about the Muggle world," he shared, a hint of amusement in his tone. "He's a nice man. Do you know him?" I regarded him, weighing my response carefully.
"Not really," I settled on. He scrutinised my features once more, and there were moments when I was convinced my father-in-law perceived more than he let on, but then he moved on.
"He told me of all his children and what they get up to and about his own experiences at Hogwarts, and while it all sounded amazing and unbelievable, I still refused to change my mind," he said with a frown. He clenched his fists, as if he were still angry at himself for giving in to Weasley's persuasion. "I'm going to ask you something. I want to know if I was fooled and allowed my daughter to return somewhere she wasn't ever really safe."
"Very well," I responded, a note of intrigue lacing my words.
"Is it true that a person with magical abilities—abilities they are denied the opportunity to use—can die?" He watched my face with intensity, but I understood immediately the phenomenon he was referring to, even if I had never heard of one existing in my lifetime.
"Had Hermione been deprived of an outlet for her magic, she would have been at risk of becoming an Obscurus. Her magic would have waged war against her very being. Magic wants to be wielded, and we magicals are magic. I am unsure what keeps a Muggle alive, but for us, our magic is vital. Those unfortunate enough to develop an Obscurial seldom survive beyond a few years." Dan sighed and nodded at that.
"I didn't want to believe it was real, but I couldn't risk losing Hermione like that." He gave a bitter laugh. "Thanks to my actions, her mother and I began losing her anyway. She became distant and started keeping secrets. For the first time in her life, my little girl started to lie to us, and I knew it was because I had tried to take something important away from her and she was scared of losing it. I suspect that is why you have let her run off with her friends."
"In part," I agreed. "I, fortunately, never attempted to hinder her because she understood when I had to leave her for my own obligation. I'm also aware of the significance of the endeavour she and those two imbeciles are undertaking. However, I honestly didn't anticipate it hurting this much. I was cognizant of the fact that I would miss her, but I didn't foresee this constant pit in my stomach or this unrelenting heart sickness."
"And because you were the bully who picked on her and her friends," he told me with a calm certainty.
"Yes," I agreed.
"Draco, this should go without saying, but if you ever do anything to my little girl again that I don't like, it won't matter who or what you are. I will hurt you," he told me seriously. I believed him and even respected him for his warning.
"If I could take back every hurt I ever caused her, I would, but I can't change who I was. I can only attempt to be what she needs me to be now. But as for her friends, I couldn't be less concerned with their opinions or emotions." Dan nodded at that with a slight, knowing smirk of his own. I was beginning to realise that Dan and I shared some similarities.
"It's alright to miss her, you know," he imparted, extending his hand to rest on my shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a lot. He was treating me like a son, like family.
"If I allow myself to dwell on her, to miss her too much, I believe I will do something foolish. I am finding it harder and harder not to go after her and drag her back here," I conveyed with frustration evident in my voice.
"I believe you ought to," he voiced, his gaze filled with hope, but then he sighed when I gave no reaction. "Unfortunately, she has both mine and her mother's determination, and she would be extremely angry if you tried to force her to do something against her own will. You may think Hermione gets her temper from me, but trust me when I say that Emma is truly terrifying when she is really angry." We both gave a chuckle as we imagined the wrath of the two females we loved.
"I'm glad I haven't seen it then. I have experienced Hermione's a time or two, and I would very much like to avoid that again," I stated, making him grin at me. It also wasn't entirely the truth, but I wasn't going to explain that to her father.
"You're doing a good job, Draco. You are already a wonderful father, and I'm sure that when Hermione comes back, you will be a great husband too," he told me with sincerity in his voice.
"I hope so," I replied.
"So, potions," he said, moving on. "Do you think you could teach me?" I was surprised at that suggestion. It wasn't unheard of for a squib to work in an apothecary, but I had never heard of them making potions.
"Any reason?" I inquired, and the man gave an uncomfortable smirk.
"We ran out of the 'Aphrodisiac Potion' again," he confessed, prompting a bout of laughter from me. Then I found myself contemplating, 'Could I teach him to make it?' I had only concocted a new batch two weeks ago. Vasanos had been right about his bond to the Centaurs affecting Dan, but I didn't believe Emma minded in the slightest. I had discreetly added a 'Silencing Ward' around the perimeter below the couple's bedroom, ensuring their privacy.
"Perhaps," I said as I thought. I was certain the potency wouldn't be as powerful as it was intended to be. Yet, I was aware Dan had the ability to activate potions meant for first-year students. The 'Aphrodisiac Potion' was not a complex one, although it was only taught to N.E.W.T. level students. This was largely due to the Board of Governors' failed attempt to ban it from the curriculum altogether a few decades ago.
I instructed Dan to come around to stand beside me at the workstation, and he grinned in anticipation. He reminded me of Hermione just then, with how excited she always got when learning something new.
Hours went by, and even if it had turned out that he couldn't make the potion, we had spent the time pleasantly together, discussing magic and Hogwarts, which he appeared to have endless questions about.
He was a fast learner and easily picked up the techniques required for preparing all the ingredients and preparing the cauldron. I had worked with him on the first run-through of the potion, but it was soon apparent that my magic was infusing into the mixture, and it was active upon completion. I had then sat back on a conjured chair, fed Aiden, and watched as Dan repeated the whole process on his own. He had executed it flawlessly, yet his disappointment was palpable when his completed potion lacked the magical shimmer.
"Cut your finger and add three drops of blood," I instructed him. He complied, then stepped back and waited. About ten seconds later, a shimmer as potent as my own potion emerged, causing him to grin at me while I stared at it in surprise.
I approached and took a whiff. The strong aroma of vanilla wafted from the still warm fumes, and I had no doubt that it would work perfectly. To say I was perplexed would be an understatement, but I shared in Dan's joy when he slapped me on the shoulder with a triumphant laugh. However, I was certain I would be mulling over what this meant for quite some time.
A week later, as the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows through the dense canopy of the Forest of Dean, the air was filled with the scent of damp earth and pine, I ran. I had left Aiden with Emma and Dan while I went for my morning run, which I decided to make into an expedition into the progress of the underground cells.
Will had spent the night of his first full moon with us in a magical cage kept together by volunteers, but his howls had attracted other Werewolves to the area even if they couldn't get in or find us. One had been a young woman, ensnared in the throes of her first transformation—a victim of Snatchers who were attempting to increase their numbers with squibs, or as this case proved, attractive muggles they claimed.
The one who had infected her hadn't had the presence of mind while changed to keep an eye on his charge, and she had been rescued by a patrolling witch before he or the other Snatchers could return to the area shortly before sunrise.
With a month to prepare, we decided to build a better structure to hold the two Werewolves and add a few more cages in case the numbers of them to join us increased.
The House Elves, a handful of wizards, including Will Collins, and two witches were busy at work and progressing with remarkable speed. I slowed my pace, coming to a stop to converse with those few who I was going to be partnering with on the rune scheme. I was fully aware that we would need to coordinate our efforts to create a strong and seamless ward scheme.
We had decided on using seven ward stones. Six smaller ones around the perimeter and one in the centre that we would all bind together with our joint magic. Perhaps it was excessive, but I didn't want to take any risks, and thankfully everyone on the team shared this sentiment. Keeping the Werewolves contained and silent was imperative.
I allowed them to resume their work while I began my solitary trek through the forest, making my way to a sunlit clearing where the sun's rays poured down unimpeded. The day was beautiful, but the nights were getting cooler, and I was aware it would only be a few more weeks before the fires would need to be burning to keep the cold at bay.
Opting to seize the moment, I sat on the slightly damp ground and closed my eyes to do some Occlumency meditation. I was surprised when a memory of Hermione's entered my mind. The Room of Requirement came forefront to my mind, and I was surrounded by students who were watching Potter with rapt attention.
Hermione was so proud of her friend, whom she was aware hated attention but was doing his best to help everyone pass Defence Against the Dark Arts, since that horrible toad of a woman was attempting to keep them from learning a thing. Hermione was also proud of him because he was teaching so much more than was required to pass the course. She was certain everybody in this room would be better for it.
I watched Harry as he stood in front of the group of students, and he looked nervous but determined. He was holding his wand in his right hand and a small silver whistle in his left.
"Right, everyone," he said, "we're going to have another go at the 'Patronus Charm' today. You know it's one of the hardest and strongest spells there is, but it's also the only way to fight off Dementors. You've all read the book, haven't you?"
I nodded eagerly, along with a few others. I had studied the 'Patronus Charm' extensively, ever since Harry had told me how he had used it to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors at the end of our third year. I had also seen him cast a magnificent stag Patronus at the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch match when Malfoy and his two thugs tried to scare Harry, and I was amazed by it.
The 'Patronus Charm', according to the books I had read, required a strong and happy memory, a clear and focused mind, and a confident and forceful incantation. The spell would produce a silvery-white guardian or protector, which would take the form of an animal that had a special affinity with the caster. The Patronus would then act as a shield against the Dementors or as a messenger between wizards or witches. It could also be used to scare off various other dark creatures, but it wasn't always as effective.
I was eager to learn how to cast my own Patronus, but I was also a bit nervous. I had been practicing, but so far had had no success. Some of the others had at least gotten the non-corporeal mist, and my lack of success was beginning to make me think I couldn't do it. I was having doubts about my memory and about what I thought my happy memories were. Then I worried about the form my potential Patronus may take and hoped it wouldn't be something embarrassing or ridiculous.
Harry blew his whistle, and a large wooden chest opened behind him. A black-cloaked Dementor flew out of it, making nearly everyone, including myself, gasp at the sight, and I wondered what Harry was up to. He hadn't done this before, and I could see I wasn't the only one eyeing the creature with apprehension, even if logically I knew it was only a Boggart and a manifestation of Harry's greatest fear.
"Right," Harry said, facing the creature in the room but giving us quick glances now and then. "This isn't a real Dementor, but it'll make you feel just as cold and scared. For those of you who don't know about Boggarts, they can change into whatever they see that scares you the most. They always turn into your worst fears. I'm going to stay near this one so it stays a Dementor, and like a real Dementor, it will make you listen to and feel your worst nightmares."
"Your job is to fight it off by thinking of a memory that makes you happy. But it can't be any old memory; it has to be something more than just happy; it has to be," his eyes met mine for a moment as he said the word, "complex." I nodded back in approval, knowing he wasn't comfortable trying to explain something like this. He had started to walk around a little to keep the Dementor/Boggart from getting too close to him, but he was also holding his wand rather tightly, and I wondered if he was going to have to use his own Patronus before too long.
"For me, I use a memory that fills me with hope and love but also sadness. That's how I make my stag Patronus. If you don't have a memory like that, don't panic. A strong, happy memory can still make a Patronus that's not solid but can push a Dementor away for a bit." I could see the effort on my friend's face as he spoke to all of us and knew he must have been hearing his worst memory. The one of his mother screaming and a green light.
"I'm going to walk around the room and bring this thing closer to you. When you're ready, point your wand at it and say 'Expecto Patronum'. Don't worry if it doesn't work at first; it takes a lot of practice. Keep trying, and don't give up. I'll be here to help you, alright?"
He glanced away from the horrible-looking Dementor again for just long enough to give us a reassuring smile. Already knowing what he would want of us, we divided into pairs. I moved over to work with Neville again, who looked terrified of the creature. I tried to calm him down and told him to think of something that made him happy, while trying not to feel like a fraud as I struggled to find my own. He said he would try, but he didn't sound very confident.
Harry walked around the room, and the Dementor/Boggart followed him. As he came nearer Neville and me, pausing to assist Anthony Goldstein and Hannah Abbott,I felt a chill in the air and a sense of dread in my chest from the closeness of the creature. I heard a faint whisper in my ear, and I recognised the voice of Professor McGonagall.
"Miss Granger, you have failed all your exams. You are the worst student I have ever had the misfortune of teaching. You are a disgrace to Gryffindor. You are a waste of space."
I felt a surge of anger and disbelief. 'That was not true. That was not possible. I was not a failure. I was not a waste of space. I studied hard, and I deserved to be here no matter what all the Slytherins thought.' A certain sneering pale face flashed before my eyes for a moment, but I quickly pushed it away.
I shook my head, trying to ignore the stern voice of Professor McGonagall in my mind. I thought of a happy memory—a memory that filled me with joy. I recalled the day I had received my Hogwarts letter and how proud and excited I had been. I thought of how much I had learned and achieved since coming to Hogwarts. I thought of how much I loved magic and how much I loved my friends.
But strangely, I couldn't stop seeing the sad looks on the faces of my parents. Their faces filled with concern and discomfort every time I boarded the train or chose to spend time with my friends over them. I barely noticed that Harry had moved closer to Neville and me, as I was lost in my thoughts.
I remembered all of the fun times my parents and I had together, and one just before my third year stood out. We had been in the backyard at home, and that memory filled me with warmth. The night before, my dad had told me I would be going back to Hogwarts after almost five weeks of insisting that I wouldn't be.
That day had been beautiful, and my dad had cooked a BBQ while I swam, and my mum read a book under the shade of an umbrella. We had all talked, laughed, played games, and teased for no other reason than because the day seemed to bring it out in us. It was a perfect day that was only tinged with the regret and sadness that I would be leaving again the following week.
I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard Neville's sharp intake of breath next to me, and I acted instinctively, raising my wand and aiming it at the cloak that was swooping towards us. I felt a surge of love, determination, and guilt like fuel in my chest, and I shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"
A jet of silver light burst out of my wand, making me gasp with wonder as it chased the Dementor away. I smiled when I saw the shape it took. It was an otter, a sleek and graceful animal that darted and danced in the air happily as it returned to me. It was beautiful, and it was mine. I felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over me, even as my heart pounded with the thrill of it. I had done it. I had cast a Patronus. I looked to my side and saw Harry there, smiling back at me.
"That was brilliant, Hermione," Harry said, but he shivered when the Dementor surged back towards us. I knew the prolonged exposure was affecting him, but I knew my proud friend would not appreciate me calling attention to his discomfort in front of so many people. Harry moved on to the next pair and started instructing them on how to position themselves.
"That was incredible, Hermione," Neville said, sounding amazed.
"Thank you," I replied, still coming down from the adrenaline rush. I was now determined to help Neville as well. "Remember what Harry told us. Sometimes the memory you select needs to be more complex than simply being happy." Neville looked confused by that, and assuming he was just as emotionally stunted as my two best friends, I explained quietly what I had been thinking about.
Neville nodded and gained a thoughtful look. His wand was shaking, and his face was pale, but I could see determination there. He began muttering something under his breath, but no light came out of his wand. The Dementor/Boggart was still near enough that we could feel its effects, and it seemed to be attracted to Neville's discomfort. Suddenly it swooped towards him, and I summoned my Patronus again to give him further time to think.
I smiled as my otter soared out once more, and it was much easier to do this time, but I felt my energy draining quickly, which I found disappointing because it meant it vanished sooner than before.
"Nice one, Mi," Ron shouted across the room,and I smiled at him, my stomach filling with butterflies as he looked at me with his adorable, silly grin. Our eyes met for a moment, and the butterflies sored even further, but I turned away as I blushed, not wanting him to know how I felt about him. A lot of people praised me, which made me happy, but I really just wanted everyone else to get this. We all needed to be strong to survive against Voldemort. I turned back to Neville…
I let go of the memory and cursed soundly as jealousy coursed through me. She was out there with that ugly, long-nosed buffoon right now, and I wanted to smash in his teeth for ever smiling at her like that. Even then, it was evident that he desired her, but she had been unaware, and thankfully, he was a coward, too afraid to act on his feelings. I paced around in agitation for ten minutes, refusing to rely on my Occlumency.
There were times when I could admit to myself, in the quiet solitude of my thoughts, that if it weren't for Hermione and now Aiden, I would have become numb to life. There was a time when I felt like the world was at my feet, a time when I believed with a smug certainty that my birthright entitled me to everything. But learning the harsh truth—that the world owed me nothing—had been the most difficult lesson I had ever had to learn.
It was tempting to sink into the comforting oblivion of Occlumency, to let it take away all my worries and fears. But I wanted to feel, to experience every emotion when I was with Hermione. And now, I wanted the same with my son. So, while I had no intention of neglecting the skill, I also accepted that I needed to confront my emotions, even when they threatened to overwhelm me.
I was aware I had to confront this issue on my own or risk having my emotions completely consumed by the discipline. If that were to happen, I was certain that I would lose Hermione. No one would want to be married to someone who was devoid of emotions, someone who was practically soulless.
I also hated observing myself through her eyes because it often left me feeling as small as a Bundimun and equally as repugnant. Part of me thought I was a fucking moron for pulling that Dementor stunt, while another still thought it was hilarious.
I took several deep, calming breaths and reminded myself that she was mine. I spun my silver wedding ring around my finger, the cool metal a comforting presence. I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the soul bond tattoo. It was softly glowing, a constant reminder of our connection. I felt childish for needing the comfort of these tangible reminders to steady myself.
"Enough with the damned self-pity," I scolded myself and then gave a mad chuckle that I was glad no one was around to hear. Thankfully, more recent memories of the two of us flooded my mind, memories from both our perspectives. I could feel the depth of her love for me—a warmth that spread through me. I took satisfaction in the undeniable fact that she loved me more than either of her best friends now. I could feel the difference in the intensity of the emotion in her memories, and I couldn't help but want to rub it in the Weasels face.
Once I was composed, I stood unmoving in the clearing, then began to delve into the recesses of my mind for my most cherished memory. It wasn't even hard to find. We were in the hospital, and Aiden was only hours old. The adrenaline from witnessing such a profound miracle was still pulsating through my veins. Aiden was nestled comfortably on his mother's chest, his tiny body rising and falling gently with each breath he took. Hermione, worn out but radiating a peaceful glow, was also asleep, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion.
As I held them both in my arms, I couldn't stop running my hands over Aiden's fragile form, acutely aware that I was now responsible for this little person that I already loved fiercely. I was awed that this tiny being was going to rely on me for everything. His existence, his happiness, his development—all were now inexplicably linked to my actions.
Yet, I was also filled with the terrible knowledge that Hermione was going to leave us soon, and I already missed her. I had silently wept as I gazed at them both, my heart brimming with a love so deep it was almost painful and a fear so intense it was almost paralysing. Yet, in a strange twist of emotions, a huge grin was plastered on my face. I must have appeared as a mad man, grinning through the tears, but in that moment, I was the happiest mad man on earth.
"Expecto Patronum!" I declared forcefully, thrusting my wand out in front of me, my eyes snapping open as I did. Instantly, a silvery alligator burst into the air, snapping its teeth in apparent annoyance. I couldn't help but chuckle even as I marvelled at it.
I had no idea what this animal said about me, but I was impressed by it none the less. Still, this shouldn't have been possible, and yet, thanks to Hermione, I had cast a Patronus perfectly after the first attempt.
I released the spell, letting the silvery alligator dissolve into the air. After a minute's rest, I made another attempt. Immediately, I could feel the pull on my magical core that Hermione had experienced with her own second cast.
The spell wasn't overly taxing yet, but I could sense that it would require frequent practice to build up the necessary stamina. It was a small price to pay for the ability to conjure such a powerful charm.
Realising that I had been away for quite some time, I began my run back to the cabin, my mind still buzzing with the thrill of my successful Patronus Charm.
Author's notes: - Rkook1210, Thank you for your continued support by reading my story.
: - A Bundimun is a XXX creature. This magical beast is found worldwide in the wizarding world. It resembles a patch of greenish fungus with many eyes. These pests feed on dirt and can infest houses by creeping under floorboards and behind skirting boards. Their presence is indicated by a foul stench of decay. The Bundimun secretes an extremely acidic substance that can rot building structures, and large infestations may even cause a building to collapse. Scouring Charms can clear out small infestations, but for larger colonies, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures steps in. When diluted, the Bundimun's secretions are used in some magical cleaning solutions.
: - Due to a death in the family, I will be taking a break from writing.