Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Chapter Fourteen – Something to Sing About

"Life’s not a song, life isn’t bliss

Life is just this: It’s living.

You’ll get along, the pain that you feel

You only can heal by living."

-Buffy Cast, "Life’s a Show"

Wednesday, November 5, 2003

Breakfast at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become a muted affair in the week and a day since the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Students rushed their meals, eager to get away from the somber silence prevalent at the high table. Minerva McGonagall seldom made an appearance at the Great Hall until lunch was served, unless the newspapers reported an attack.

And it was with that knowledge that Hermione and George sat down for breakfast on Wednesday morning; little James safely under the care of Madame Pomfrey for the school day. Hermione picked at her eggs, face drawn in a frown. "Do you think I did the wrong thing, yelling at him like that?"

He pounded his fist on the table, startling the other teachers and catching the attention of most of the students remaining in the Hall. "I think he could use another punch to his jaw. The world doesn’t bloody revolve around him, scar faced or not." George stabbed viciously at a sausage. "He’s not even been up to see Mum. She practically adopted him summer before you all graduated, and he won’t even stop into the infirmary to see Mum and check in on Dad. He just disappeared, and thinks he can show up and be right back where he -"

"George!" Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes and grabbing his wrist to keep the scene from escalating. "I should’ve known better than to bring him up around you! He knows it’s not the same, just as much as the rest of us do – except maybe Ron."

"What’s the little git doing now?" George avoided the gaze of a scowling Severus Snape and set his free hand on top of Hermione’s. "Did he have the gall to ask you back, after what he pulled when he left?"

Hermione gave a snort and pulled away, returning to her half-eaten food. "The night he got back to Britain, he showed up where I was napping and started talking about things being the way they used to be, since Harry’s back now. He’s the one you should be punching, not Harry."

"Potter could use a few rounds to kick some sense back into him."

"Ron could use a stiff punch to the jaw to knock some reality back into him," Hermione countered. "Albus was Harry’s Secret Keeper. He knew Harry had gone to recover from whatever happened between You-Know-Who and Harry the night I graduated... I don’t think it was Harry just running away, Albus had to have a reason..."

"There was certainly a reason," Minerva McGonagall cut in, sending Hermione and George jumping to their feet ins surprise. The Headmistress looked tired and much older than her years, with dark circles marring the skin beneath her eyes.

Severus Snape rose to his feet as well, rounding the table quickly to keep the conversation quiet and away from the students. "Minerva, I didn’t see you come in... has there been another attack?"

She shook her head, gesturing for everyone to sit once more. No one complied, but she continued on anyway. "No attack, Severus. Merely a few things that need some discussion. I’ve taken the liberty of canceling classes for the morning to allow for a meeting."

"You cancelled classes?" George stared in shock. "The last time classes were cancelled -"

"-Was the day You-Know-Who attacked the school, yes, I know. Things are just as dire today as they were five years ago. We won’t speak of it here, however. As much as I’d love to trust all of the students, we know well enough who some of their parents are." Minerva sighed deeply, giving a glance over to the Slytherin table. "Has anyone seen Mr. Potter?"

As if on cue, the door of the Great Hall were flung wide open as Harry Potter entered. His trendy wire-rim glasses had been traded for a pair with thick rims and his hair was tidied the best it could be, though many pieces stuck out at odd angles. He’d borrowed someone’s black robe, as the sleeves were too short for the tall man, and tossed carelessly around his neck was the red and gold Gryffindor scarf he’d worn for seven long years of school.

Whispers erupted almost immediately as he strode confidently to the high table. Though the streaks of grey were still overly evident, the man who stood before them could be no one but the famous Boy Who Lived. Harry met Hermione’s eyes for just a moment, acknowledging her part in his remaking, before climbing the stairs to the teacher’s table and joining the group of professors standing next to it. "I can’t do a lick of magic," he murmured to Minerva, Severus, George, and Hermione, "but if the part is mine, I’ll play it."

Minerva nodded and smiled – the first Hermione had seen since Albus’ death. Ignoring glares from Snape and George, she reached up to pat Harry’s shoulder affectionately. "Well, then... will you join us, Mr. Potter? We have things to speak of and to plan." With his nod of affirmation, she turned and led the small group from the Great Hall, the eyes of every student present following in the wake of the Boy Who Lived.

~

"Blaise?" Ginny spun slowly in place, lost in the midst of the immense grandness of the Zabini manor. She’d never owned a house-elf, and thus had no idea how to call one for help. The halls all looked the same to her – plush green carpeting and white walls, lined with pictures of Zabinis past smiling and waving as she passed.

She finally heard muted voices coming from down the hall and hurried to find her savior. "Draco, she doesn’t want to stay here." Ginny slowed to listen in as she caught Blaise’s voice. "Her family probably thinks she’s dead."

"Hogwarts isn’t safe! Half the wards are down, they’re no longer connected by Floo, I’m positive Voldemort has followers in the forest and infiltrating the Aurors on guard... it’s no secret that Voldemort sees Hogwarts as a symbol of the Light. Hell, I tried to help take it for him, five years back!" In her mind’s eye, Ginny could see Malfoy pacing across the room, his eternal sneer glued to his face.

"You want her to stay here, then?" Blaise snorted and slammed something on a table. "Davie, Greg and Vince were planning to stop in tomorrow. I’m sure one of them suspects something. They’re not as dumb as you seem to think they are, you know."

"Tomorrow? Dammit. I was hoping she could be hidden here until after this weekend... I’m going to have to go back to the Manor tomorrow, or my position will be completely compromised, if it isn’t already... I’ve got to find a way to get her to Hogwarts." She heard footsteps going the other way, and fading off.

Ginny stood back for a moment, waiting to hear any other conversation, but it seemed as if Malfoy had been the only one in the room with Blaise. After a bit of silence, she crept forward and peeked around the door. Blaise was standing before a massive bow window, her back to Ginny. "Blaise?" Ginny murmured, just loud enough to get her attention without startling her.

Blaise turned to face Ginny, hand raised to wipe silent tears from her face. It was the first time Ginny had seen any emotion other than elegant generosity from the other woman. "Hello there, Ginny," she whispered, sniffling softly.

Crossing the room, Ginny set a hand on Blaise’s shoulder hesitantly. It wasn’t as if the two were friends, or had even paid more than a moment’s attention to each other before yesterday – but they did have two things in common. "Fred or Draco?"

"Fred," Blaise managed to croak before dissolving into a bout of sobs that shook her entire frame. Ginny gave up any sense of formality and hugged the other woman, letting her cry on her shoulder. "We were going to get out of Britain," she gasped out between sobs. "Canada! Or New York! Anywhere but here! He’d gone to ask Dumbledore to get us out!"

Yet another piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. "He knew about the baby, then?" Ginny whispered, brushing several tear-wetted strands of red hair back from Blaise’s face.

"Four months along," Blaise whispered. "If it’s a boy, Fred wanted to name him Galahad – he though it would be so funny, to make fun of Percy, and I was so angry -" Blaise choked on another bout of tears and buried her face in the fabric of Ginny’s robe.

"Damn Percy," Ginny muttered back. "If only he hadn’t... Gods, we don’t have time to play what if. I have to go find my parents. I promise I won’t tell them about you and Fred – I’ll let you do that yourself when you get pulled out. It’ll be soon, I’ll make sure it is."

Blaise sniffled again, pulling away from Ginny to wipe her tear-stained face with the back of her hand. "I miss him, Ginny."

"I miss him too, Blaise." Ginny let herself get pulled back into another hug.