Questions and Answers

little_bird

Story Summary:
What happens when the past collides with the present and threatens to cast the Potters' and Weasleys' lives into disarray...

Chapter 44 - Minor Chord

Posted:
11/04/2010
Hits:
1,451


A fire crackled in the quiet, lonely house, the soft pops echoing in the office. Harry had never figured himself to be one who hated to be alone with his thoughts, but with Ginny at a game, and all three children in school, and Teddy working the middle shift that week, the house was too still and silent, save for the sounds of the logs burning on the hearth.

Harry sprawled in one of the battered armchairs in front of the fire. He caught himself thinking about the days he'd spent in the hospital. Not the days where he'd been conscious, but the days he'd been unconscious. Those dreams he'd had seemed a bit too real. They reminded him uneasily of the brief time he'd spent with Dumbledore after he'd allowed Riddle's Killing curse to hit him. That had been real. Harry was almost certain it had been real, and not just in his own head. His eyes kept straying to the locked cabinet in the corner. I wonder if the Pensieve works with dreams... he thought. Can't hurt to check... Harry propelled himself to his feet, drawing his wand from his pocket at the same time. He slid an index finger over the lock, and with a soft click the door swung open, and Harry brought the tip of his wand to his temple. He pulled it away, several silvery strands clinging to it, and deftly swirled them into the surface of the Pensieve.

He took a deep breath and slowly lowered his face into the shimmering silver liquid.

XxXxXxX

Draco's hand trailed along the spines of the books in the towering bookcases. At the end of one bookcase, he found a slim oversized book, bound in deep green leather, with silver scrollwork winding over the covers. He sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and began to flip through the photograph album. Daphne stood stiffly in one of the first photographs, formal and painfully correct in the icy white dress robes of heavy silk that were traditional for wizarding weddings. The garment seemed to threaten to engulf her frame, but she stood ramrod straight, gazing coolly into the camera, daring someone to say something untoward. The next page held one of him posing with Daphne. They barely touched each other, right hands joined because they'd been ordered to do so. The floor creaked softly and Draco's head snapped up from his contemplation of the wedding photographs. Daphne stood in the doorway, a book loosely held in one hand. She looked slightly startled to see him in the library. Normally, after dinner, he tended to ensconce himself in his study until he went to bed. Draco looked at her for a moment then blurted, 'Why did you marry me?'

Daphne took a step or two into the room and began to walk around the shelves, unconsciously following Draco' path, and returned her book to its place on the shelf. 'Why did you marry me?' she countered.

'Because I received a letter from my father one day, informing me I was getting married,' Draco muttered with a shrug. 'And you were...' He trailed off uncertainly. 'Untouched,' he finished.

'You mean virginal,' Daphne sighed.

'Well, that,' Draco allowed. 'Or if you weren't you had been most discreet.'

Daphne's cheeks burned. 'You know I was...'

Draco shook his head. 'You were untouched by...' He swallowed. 'Prior events.' He laughed bitterly. 'You went down quite a few rungs marrying me,' he snorted. 'A former Death Eater on probation with the Ministry. No prospects of anything but a life of enforced solitude.'

'That's not how my brother saw it,' Daphne replied evenly.

'I can -' Draco began tightly. He closed the photograph album and his fingers wrapped around the spine. 'I'll release you,' he said quietly. 'If you want. I'll take care of all the details and I'll even let you take custody of our son. I'll make sure the two of you won't want for anything.'

Daphne started in surprise. It was so rare for wizarding couples to dissolve their marriage that the laws regarding it hadn't changed in centuries. If a couple did decide to end their marriage, the husband usually received custody of any underage children, without question. A wizarding marriage was, in fact, a magically binding contract. Getting out of it was a long, arduous process. One that could take years. 'I don't know,' she said, turning on her heel. 'I don't know...' She scurried up the stairs to her bedroom, and shut the door, her hands shaking. Free... she thought. Free of this house and the restrictions... She slid to the floor, propping her back against the closed door. But it could be ages, and Scorpius could be out of school by then, and none of it will matter... Daphne pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. There was Scorpius to consider. It was one thing for one parent, especially the father, to engage in what was known as a "minor indiscretion". It would be quite another if it were to be publicly known his parents were in the actively attempting to end their marriage. It just wasn't done.

Shivering, she managed to get to her feet and stumbled to her bed. She toed off her shoes and crawled under the fluffy duvet without bothering to undress.

XxXxXxX

Harry watched the unfolding scenes with narrowed eyes. He knew he was watching his dreams. The hospital room was nothing like the one the Aurors kept reserved for themselves. It was more like the one Ginny had been in when she'd given birth to the boys. He watched himself sleep for long stretches, interrupted by Snape, his parents, and Sirius. He couldn't really hear what they said, not even what he himself said. It was maddening.

'What is this?' said Ginny's voice in his ear.

'A dream I had when I was unconscious after the attack...' Harry muttered, glancing over his shoulder at Ginny, doing a double-take. 'What are you doing here?' Realizing how annoyed he'd sounded, Harry added, 'I thought you had a game tonight.'

Ginny made a show of checking her watch. 'It's after eleven,' she retorted pointedly

'Guess I've been in here longer than I thought...'

'I thought you didn't use this,' Ginny began.

'I don't.' Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. 'Well, I used it before the kids went back to school. It was easier to show James what happened at school than try to tell him.' Harry turned to Ginny. 'I was sitting in here, trying not to think about how quiet it was, and thought, maybe, it could help me recall the dreams.' He frowned as the scenes rewound and started at the beginning. 'They were trying to tell me something, I know it... I just can't make out anything. It's like it's all underwater.'

'You've never learned to read lips?' Ginny asked incredulously. 'In your line of work?'

'I tried,' Harry admitted. 'I'm not very good at it.' He looked sideways at Ginny. 'Why? Do you know how?'

'A little. We learned how to do it when Mum and Dad were having a "discussion" in the kitchen and made us go into the back garden to play.'

Harry gestured to the scene in front of them. 'Can you make it out at all?'

Ginny squinted at the figures. 'How does this work? Can I move around?'

'Yeah. You can even walk through them.'

Slowly, Ginny approached the image of Sirius, who was smirking at Harry. Suddenly, she grinned. 'He's right. You do have a nice arse.'

Harry flushed, unsure whether to be angry or embarrassed. 'It sounds so much different when you say it...' He cleared his throat. 'What else is he saying?'

'Says it's in your memories. That you've been told... the answers... You just need to find them...'

Harry sighed. 'It has to do with the Muggle-baiting, I'm sure of it. Or at least I think that's what they're talking about, considering what I was doing before I ended up there. I just have to sift through more than three years of memories to find out what I need to finally get rid of this damn case.'

'You think about it all the time?' Ginny asked.

'Not all the time, but it's always there.' He reached for Ginny's hand. 'Come on. Let's go, eh?' He tugged gently on it and the two of them blinked and found themselves lying on the hearth rug in the study, Ginny sprawled across Harry. Harry's hands gently spread over Ginny's lower back. 'Thanks, for helping in there...'

'My pleasure.' Ginny's hips shifted slightly, making Harry's eyes widen a little.

'Fuck...' he breathed.

'That was the general idea,' Ginny informed him.

'Don't start something you can't finish,' Harry warned.

'Is that a dare?' Ginny murmured, shifting a bit more.

'Maybe.'

Ginny sat up; running the fingers of one hand over Harry's left shoulder, feeling the ridge of the new scar under the thin cotton of his shirt. 'Does it hurt?'

Harry's eyes glazed over. 'Does what hurt?'

Ginny's throaty laugh rang out. 'That's exactly what I wanted to hear...'

*****

Daphne stood nervously in an unfamiliar bedroom, with her hands clasped in front of her. Under normal circumstances, the heavy formal robes would have been suffocatingly hot. But she shivered with something that wasn't quite fear; nor was it something she would label anticipation. She didn't know Draco well, despite having been in Slytherin with him for seven years. He'd had his circle and she didn't even crack its orbit. 'I can't believe Ian arranged this travesty of a marriage,' she murmured. Three months ago, her older brother had announced she was marrying Draco Malfoy. She began to pace around the room, tucking her icy hands inside the wide, sweeping sleeves of the robes, trying to avoid looking at the wide bed that dominated one end of the room. Her left hand twitched at the unfamiliar weight of the ornate betrothal ring she had only worn a few times before tonight, joined by a heavy gold band. She wondered what would happen if she just "forgot" to wear them.

The door opened soundlessly and Draco's head peered around the edge. He sidled through the slight opening uneasily. His tongue felt like it had been glued to the roof of his mouth. He went straight to the crystal decanter of wine on a small table near the fire. He poured a glass and downed it in one gulp. He turned to the woman standing silently to one side, gazing at him with a hint of apprehension on her face. 'Turn around,' he said gruffly. He closed the distance between them with a few long strides and pushed her dark blonde hair over her shoulder to expose the seemingly endless row of tiny buttons that ran down the back of the robes. His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he worked the topmost one through its buttonhole. Daphne kept her eyes glued to the elaborate rug just beyond the toes of the slippers that matched the robes.

At length, Draco had managed to undo the buttons, and he pushed the robes down Daphne's arms. The heavy silk slithered down her hips and puddled at her feet. She bent to pick it up, but Draco's voice stopped her. 'Leave it,' he told her harshly, beginning to work the buttons on the front of his robes undone. Daphne stood uncertainly in the flimsy slip, shifting from foot to foot. Draco gestured to the turned-down bed and Daphne awkwardly stumbled toward it slipping her feet from the slippers before she slid into the bed. She stared at her interlaced fingers, jumping when Draco touched her bare arm. 'I'm not going rape you,' he said evenly.

Daphne nodded wordlessly. While she knew what was supposed to happen on one's wedding night, she wasn't quite sure how a couple could do something so intimate when they hardly knew each other. Neither of them had a choice. They had to consummate the marriage before midnight, passion or no. It was in the contract they'd signed immediately following the ceremony. Daphne turned her head to ask Draco about it, and was startled when he perfunctorily kissed her, pulling her down so she lay on her back. Daphne stiffened when Draco's hands began to work the hem of the slip toward her hips. He used one knee to nudge her thighs apart, and knelt between them, fumbling with his pants. Daphne's wide eyes stared intensely at the canopy overhead. When Draco slid inside her, she convulsed in pain. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, wincing at the salty taste on her tongue.

Mercifully, it only lasted a few minutes. Draco's breath was harsh in her ears and his body lay limp and heavy on top of hers. Soon, he rolled off her and lay on his side, with his back to her. Slowly, achingly, Daphne curled into a ball, with her back to Draco, blinking back tears.

Draco gripped the pillow tightly in the fingers of one hand, ashamed at his behavior. Pansy hadn't been one for niceties with sex. She considered foreplay a waste of time. Foreplay for her meant stopping long enough to remove her knickers. He'd promised Daphne he wouldn't rape her, but what he had done had barely been a step above that. He could hear Daphne's muffled sniffles behind him, and he started to roll over and apologize, but the words stuck on his tongue. He didn't think Daphne would want to listen to his half-formed, clumsy apologizes just now.

The two of them unobtrusively inched toward their respective edges of the bed, the wide gulf between them encompassing more than the mere expanse of the bed.

XxXxXxX

Daphne's eyes flew open. She blinked in bemusement at the empty space in the bed next to her. The dream had been so vivid; she had nearly expected to see Draco huddled on the other side. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor, glancing at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace in her bedroom. She'd only slept a few hours. Untangling the skirt from around her legs, she stood up and began to shed her clothing, letting it fall to the floor in a trail as she walked toward the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom. She pulled a pair of pajamas from a shelf and slipped them on, taking her dressing gown from the foot of the bed.

Her stomach rumbled over the whisper of the dressing gown, reminding her she hadn't eaten dinner. Daphne gazed at the clock thoughtfully for a moment. Draco was sure to be holed up in his study and she could slip into the kitchen for something to eat. She pulled her bedroom door open, and padded into the corridor, the thick carpet muting her footsteps. She went down the stairs and pushed the swinging kitchen door open.

Perri was sitting at the scrubbed wooden table, a tiny cup of tea at her elbow, paging through the Daily Prophet. She came to the crossword and snapped her fingers, making an ordinary Muggle pencil appear between them. She licked the tip and studied the first clue. Daphne hid a smile and began to rummage through the pantry. Perri jumped off the tall stool she used to reach the top of the table. 'Mrs. Daphne, is there something I can be getting for you?' she asked anxiously.

Daphne emerged with a small tray on which she arranged a pear, an apple, a chunk of cheese, bread, and her secret stash of pickle. 'No, Perri, but thank you.'

Perri eyed the tray distastefully. 'Mrs. Daphne, that is not what my mother would be calling a proper meal,' she sniffed.

'I just need a bite, Perri, not a four-course meal,' Daphne replied. 'You are off-duty for the night.'

Perri blinked. 'Is you saying that is an order?'

Daphne chuckled. 'Yes.' She carried the tray into the library, and set it down on the low table between two large armchairs in front of the fire. She had no more than settled into the chair than Perri appeared in front of her with a loud crack, carrying a tray with a pot of tea. 'I thought I told you were off-duty.'

One of Perri's large ears twitched. 'You is not asking for the tea, Mrs. Daphne. I is bringing it to you.' She set the tray next to the one Daphne had brought up with her and disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

Daphne flicked her wand at the fireplace, and it erupted into flames. She Summoned a book from the shelf behind her. It was an old favorite, read and re-read many times before, but Daphne was not in a mood to try and devote the attention needed for something new. She was quickly engrossed in her book, and didn't notice Draco enter the library and perch in the chair next to her.

'You never answered my question,' Draco said quietly, staring into the dancing flames. 'Why did you marry me?'

Daphne jumped a little when Draco spoke, but she closed her book calmly enough. 'I didn't have a choice,' she said tonelessly. 'My father died about a year before the wedding. Ian spent six months trying to arrange a marriage for me. He didn't care about your... situation... It was marry you, or end up in the streets.'

'But you were of age,' Draco protested. 'He couldn't force you.'

'Just like your father couldn't force you?' Daphne countered dryly. 'Ian was going to cut me off completely,' she continued. 'I didn't take many N.E.W.T. level classes. Mostly the horribly intellectual ones that meant I didn't have any really useful skills for employment.' Daphne crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 'Ian's not one for kindness when it threatens his view of the world. And...' Daphne inhaled slowly. 'I didn't have anywhere else to go... Ian can be...' Daphne searched for a way to describe her elder brother. 'Not cruel, exactly, but when he sets his mind to something, it gets done, regardless of how anyone else feels about it.'

'Don't you have other family members?' Draco asked. 'Couldn't one of them have interceded for you?'

Daphne shook her head. 'None that were willing to oppose Ian.'

'But why me?' Draco persisted.

Daphne smiled humorlessly. 'Because for all that you're a - how did you put it? - a former Death Eater on probation - you still had the name and the prestige that would impress Ian's social circle. It was quite a coup for him to have his plain, bookish sister married to you. And the fact that you're still quite wealthy didn't hurt. It wasn't for my benefit, you see.' Daphne shrugged and returned to her book. Draco slid off the chair and slipped out of the library as quietly as he had come in.

XxXxXxX

Harry's toes caught the edge of a riser and he fell forward. 'Bloody, effing hell!'

'Shhhh!' Ginny giggled softly.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. 'Why?' he asked blankly.

'You might wake up...' Ginny bit her lip. 'Oh... Right.'

Harry cupped Ginny's face in one hand. 'Hey now,' he said, thumbing the tear that ran down Ginny's cheek. 'No tears, eh?'

Ginny smiled shakily and shook her head. 'No. It's just a little strange, still, that's all.'

Harry leaned forward and gently kissed her. 'Think of it like this,' he began. 'We won't have to endure any more phone calls from Lily's barmy history teacher.'

'That's a bonus,' Ginny snorted. She continued up the stairs. 'You still owe me a dinner in Paris, by the way.'

'When did I promise you a dinner in Paris?' Harry asked in confusion, as he followed Ginny.

'You didn't. But you still owe me one.'

'Why?'

'For five days of sitting next to your bed while you were communing with ghosts.'

'You must be joking! Do you know how expensive it is to go to Paris for an evening? The Portkey alone is three times as expensive as dinner, and why bother eating at all? You get half a morsel of something and they call that a course,' he grumbled. 'Why can't we just go to London?'

'Because,' Ginny said patiently. 'I ate hospital food.'

Harry went into their bathroom, and picked up his toothbrush. 'You did?' He reached out with and felt Ginny's forehead with the back of one hand. 'Are you feeling all right?'

'Yes. Fleur suggested a few places off the regular tourist areas, too.'

Harry sighed. 'Brilliant... When?'

'Tuesday after next. I've already made reservations.' Ginny grinned. 'I promise - I'll wear something to make it worth your while.'

Harry stuck his toothbrush into his mouth, as he eyed his wife. He spit into the sink and pointed his toothbrush at Ginny. 'Wear that little black thing you wore when we had dinner with Dudley and Aaron in March.'

'I think I can manage that.' Ginny reached around Harry for her toothbrush.

Harry leaned against the counter quietly brushing his teeth for a moment. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'If I knew something about someone, and knew how to find out how to sort of fix it, should I?'

Ginny frowned at Harry in the mirror. 'You'll have to give me more details...'

'I want to try and see what Neville and Hannah's chances of being able to adopt a baby would be.'

'I thought you said they gave up on that.'

'Yeah, but only based on an idea they'd get rejected outright because of their age,' Harry protested. 'Look at Dudley and Aaron. They're the same age and they managed to adopt Sarah. Nev told me last they'd still like to do it, he's just afraid to be told "no" again.'

'No interference,' Ginny ordered.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Ginny tossed her toothbrush into the cup at one side of the sink. 'You will merely pass on information. That is all. Nothing more than that.'

Harry replaced his toothbrush. 'Fine,' he muttered, and turned to leave the bathroom.

Ginny caught his hand, pulling him back to her. 'Don't pout.'

'I'm not pouting,' Harry said.

Ginny rose on her toes and gave Harry a tender kiss, brushing his hair from his eyes. 'Yes, you are. But you need to let Neville and Hannah do this on their own. Just tell them what you find out - and do be discreet about it - use one of Hermione's cabana boys to do the inquiries for you; she's trained them to keep their mouths shut about their work -'

'More like what she did to Marietta Edgecombe is still legendary,' interrupted Harry.

'Well, yes, there is that,' Ginny agreed. She left the bathroom and climbed into bed, pulling Harry's shirt over her head. She wadded it into a ball and neatly tossed it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

'Show-off,' Harry muttered, sliding into the bed next to her. He never could quite get the clothes to land squarely in the basket like Ginny could.

'You're such a fixer, love,' Ginny murmured, cuddling close to him. 'Someone needs something fixed and you try to make everyone happy.' She brushed her lips over his. 'And I love you for it...'

In a few moments, Harry could feel her breathing deepen into sleep. He bent his head slightly and nuzzled the top of Ginny's head, resting on his shoulder. 'Thanks, Gin...' he whispered.

XxXxXxX

Ron ran his oil-slick hands down Hermione's back, sniffing appreciatively. Lavender... Mione must be in a good mood... And parchment? It made one of Ron's brows rise. It had taken three years to get the massage oil to do what it was supposed to do and change its scent based on the mood of the person receiving the massage. They'd used Amortentia as their starting point, and after two years of tinkering with the potion, they'd finally gotten it to react to the person's skin and make the other person smell their mood. Unfortunately, the first few oils had resulted in all manner of "issues", as George liked to delicately refer to them. Rashes, hives, discolored skin. It was discouraging, but they finally had created a workable prototype last autumn.

'I'm reducing my hours at the Ministry,' Hermione said quietly, gasping as Ron's thumb worked out a particularly recalcitrant knot under her shoulder blade.

'Why?'

'So they can reach me in case something happens to Mum,' she replied.

'Are you sure you want to do that...?'

Hermione nodded, sighing in pleasure as Ron's hands slowly slid up her back to her shoulders. 'I spoke with Kingsley about it before Rose and Hugo went back to school. I'll go into the office in the mornings, and other than that, they can reach me by owl or Floo.'

'Maybe we could alternate days,' Ron suggested. 'George doesn't need me here or in Hogsmeade on a regular basis until mid-November. That way you don't have to be out all the time.'

Hermione started to say no, but she realized Ron was trying to help in a way she hadn't allowed earlier. 'We'll alternate, then.'

'We got an owl from Neville today,' Ron said casually.

'Oh, God,' Hermione sighed. 'What did Hugo do?'

'Wasn't Hugo. It was Rosie.'

'Who did she punch this time?'

Ron delicately cleared his throat. 'Nobody. She just emptied a bottle of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher into some kid's pumpkin juice.'

'Why?'

Ron sat back on his heels. 'You know how you always told Harry and me to just ignore the people taunting us?'

Hermione sat up; reaching for Ron's abandoned t-shirt and pulled it over her head. 'Yes...'

'Rose hasn't quite figured that out.'

'Oh, bugger,' Hermione groaned. 'Whose juice?'

'That Greengrass kid. The one she roughed up her first year.'

Hermione's mouth fell open. 'Why would she do something like that?'

Ron gave Hermione a disbelieving glance. 'Because she inherited her Uncle George and Fred's sense of humor and your sense of injustice.' He picked up one of Hermione's hands and turned it over, running his thumbs over her palm. 'He was saying things about Muggle-born witches and wizards. Particularly you, hen.'

Hermione closed her eyes in dismay. 'I thought we were past that...' she said tiredly.

Ron's mouth twisted. 'You know as well as I do there are always going be bigots, and that kid's father is involved with that group in Ireland.'

'More than involved,' Hermione muttered. 'He's the bloody ringleader.' She closed her eyes. 'What happened to the kid when he drank his spiked juice?'

Ron smirked. 'His tongue shrank. Madam Pomfrey put it back to rights in a moment. He's fine. Rosie has two weeks of detention, though. With the Potions' teacher. And they took twenty points from Gryffindor.' He set Hermione's hand down and picked up the other one.

Hermione shook her head. 'She's your daughter. No doubt about that.'

Ron smiled. 'Yeah...' He repeated his ministrations on her other hand, giving extra attention to the fingers - it was her right hand and she hated using dictation quills, preferring to write everything herself. 'We also got one from Luna, too.'

Hermione's face brightened. 'How is she doing?'

'Twin boys. Lorcan and Lysander.'

'Are they still in India?'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah. She says Rolf is writing a book about magical creatures in southwestern Asia and that they'll probably come back to England before next summer.'

'That will be nice.' Hermione's nose wrinkled. 'I can't imagine having a baby at this age, much less twins.'

'Luna's always danced to her own tune. Considering it took her years to meet a bloke who's just as, uh, eccentric as she is, it's not surprising.'

'Oh, come on, Rolf isn't that bad,' Hermione chided. 'He perfectly lovely for her.'

Ron snorted and pressed a kiss to Hermione's palm. 'Yeah, of course he is. They spent their honeymoon chasing after Crumple-Beaked Snotcracks or whatever.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet and ambled into the kitchen. 'Is there any of the pumpkin pie left?' she called over her shoulder.

Ron frowned. Hermione knew the answer to that question. She had asked him earlier. 'I told you earlier we ate the last of it on Wednesday.'

'That's too bad,' Hermione mused. 'I guess we'll have to settle for this kind of pie...' Ron's t-shirt sailed through the door and draped over his head, followed by a delighted giggle. 'Twenty years and that's the first time I've managed to do that.'

Ron slowly pulled the shirt off his head. 'Yeah, I think that kind of pie will do...'

XxXxXxX

'Pssst.'

Scorpius ignored his cousin Geoffery's hissed attempts to get his attention.

'Pssst.'

With a sigh, Scorpius glanced at Lily, sitting across the table from him. She was glaring at Geoffery, with a look on her face that reminded him of Harry when he was cross about something. 'Don't let him bother you,' he muttered.

'Too late,' she replied, turning a page in her Charms textbook. When Geoffery repeated the hissing sound, her shoulders jerked irritably. 'Do you bloody mind?' Lily growled.

'Blimey, Scorpius, what did you do? Pay the Potters to be your nursemaids or something?' Geoffery scoffed.

Scorpius laid his quill down and turned to the table behind him. 'What is it you want, Geoffery?' he asked tiredly.

'Did you hear the latest on your father?' Geoffery whispered gleefully.

'Why? Does it make you feel superior?' Scorpius began to turn back to his homework. 'It's the only damn thing you've got.'

'Turns out your mother's not the slut after all, it's him,' Geoffery chortled. 'I heard my dad say your dad was caught banging Pansy Parkinson, and that's why your mother and you left France so abruptly.'

Maya pointedly dropped a stack of books on the table where Lily and Scorpius sat. 'Is that so?' she said mildly. 'Pansy's bonked every twit in Britain that has something resembling a willy between their legs. Last I heard, Greengrass she not only had your maternal grandfather, but your father, as well. One right after the other. Didn't even bother to change the sheets in between. And all that time Scorpius' father was supposed to be with her? She was at my mum and dad's pub in Falmouth. With, oh, wait, who was that man she was with? Could that have been your father? I believe it was.' She dropped into the chair next to Lily with a satisfied smirk.

Geoffery stared at Maya for several moments, before he gathered his things, a dull flush staining his cheeks. He stumbled from the library, Maya's soft chuckles taunting him as he left. Scorpius bobbed his head shyly. 'Thanks,' he said softly. 'Was all that true?' he asked curiously.

'Yeah. Most of it. I help out when it's busy at my parents' pub for extra pocket money for school.' Maya opened her Defense text. 'I hate tossers like Greengrass, trying to bully other students for his own enjoyment.' She glanced at Scorpius. 'Besides, I've seen you playing Quidditch with James and his lot on Saturdays. If James likes you, you must be all right.'

'Thanks. I think.'

Lily gazed at Maya with frank interest, a tiny line between her brows. 'Can I ask you something?' she blurted.

'You're Lily, right? James' sister?'

'Yeah...'

Maya's fingers tightened slightly on her quill. She hoped Lily wasn't going to drill her about James. The conversation she'd had with her mother over the summer was bad enough. 'Yeah, all right.'

The frown on Lily's face deepened. 'What does "bonked" mean...?