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 65 - From the Ashes

Posted:
05/24/2011
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1,215


Ginny found Harry in their bedroom, shoving clothes into a bag. He barely glanced at her before tossing an empty one at her. 'Can you take a few days off?'

Ginny caught the bag and frowned. 'What's a few days?'

Harry blew out a breath and tucked extra socks in the empty spaces. 'A week or so.'

Ginny moved into the bedroom, and set the bag on the foot of the bed next to Harry's. 'I think I can manage that...'

'Brilliant.' Harry strode into the bathroom and returned with their toothbrushes. 'Send an owl to the paper. And tell Ariel land Dante to go to your parents'.'

'Want to tell me where we're going?'

'San Francisco.'

Ginny began to layer clothing into her empty bag. 'Why?'

Harry dropped his toothbrush into his bag. 'I think I might have a lead...'

'Seriously?' Ginny turned from the wardrobe that held her clothes. 'That seems a bit random, don't you think?'

'I suppose,' Harry said with a shrug. 'But it's the only good one I've had so far.' He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ginny neatly fold and place a few days' worth of underthings in the bag. 'What makes you think it's random?'

'Well,' Ginny began slowly, 'think about it for a mo... She might have been something of a rebel, but she was still a Malfoy. It would be like Scorpius moving to, oh, I don't know... Mumbai or something when he finishes school. Nothing against Mumbai, of course, and you know I think Scorpius is a lovely child, but it just doesn't seem like the two would make a good fit...' She shrugged. 'I just don't see any Malfoy moving to San Francisco.'

'So you don't think it could be her...?' Harry said, slightly deflated.

Ginny paused in the act of folding a dress. She went to sit next to Harry on the bed. 'Harry, that photograph you have is at least forty years old. It's entirely possible she might not resemble that photograph anymore. And it's possible there's someone out there that does resemble her, but it's not her.' She covered his hand with her own. 'I just don't want you to get your hopes up and have it be another dead end...'

Harry looked at Ginny for a moment, then nodded. 'Right. Can you hurry it up? Our Portkey leaves at seven.'

'Sure. Just one thing, Harry...'

'What's that?'

'Get your bum off my bag...'

*****

Carter pushed the door open, making a tiny bell tinkle softly in the dim shop, redolent with the mingled scents of herbs hanging from the rafters in bunches. Glimmering silver unicorn tail hairs shimmered on spools and dragon heartstring gleamed in coils in a glass case. An older woman perched on a tall stool behind the counter, a battered Muggle paperback novel in her hands. She absently tucked a lock of ashy blonde hair behind her ear. 'Just a mo, ducks. The chapter's gotten really good...' A recognizable undertone of a plummy British accent colored her voice.

'Take your time, Liv,' Carter quipped.

Harry glanced down at the photograph Narcissa had given him. The woman behind the counter could have been the same one in the photo, but Lavinia Malfoy's demeanor in the photo was cool and aloof, and she wore traditional robes and long, blonde hair wound into an elaborate chignon. This woman was bundled into a bright red jumper and jeans, while well-used hiking boots peeped over the counter. Her hair was much shorter than the woman's in the photo, swinging just above her shoulders.

'Right, then,' the woman said, putting her book down. 'Say what you want about Asimov, Michael, but the man's bloody entertaining. Who's your friend?'

Harry stepped forward. 'Harry Potter.'

'Oh, so you're Harry Potter!' she exclaimed in delight. Her head tilted slightly to one side as she examined Harry. 'Hmmm. I thought you'd be taller...'

Harry huffed in exasperation. 'Did he tell you to say that?' he sighed, jerking a thumb in Carter's direction. 'It's the first thing he told me when I met him the first time.'

The woman chuckled with a warm throaty tone. 'Pleasure to meet you. Lavinia Prewett. So what brings you to San Francisco?'

Harry laid the photograph on the counter. 'You.'

Lavinia's eyes flicked down to the photograph. 'That's not me.'

'Yeah, it is,' Carter argued. 'Looks just like ya. You haven't changed at all since I've known ya, Liv. And that's been at least twenty years.'

She laid a hand over the photograph, obscuring the face. 'Not anymore,' she said emphatically. 'I haven't been that woman in almost forty years.'

Harry reached for the photograph, the cuff of his sleeve falling back from his wrist. 'But you are, or were, in fact, Lavinia Malfoy...?'

Lavinia grabbed Harry's hand. Her face paled and her fingers tightened around his wrist. 'Where did you get that watch?' she breathed.

Harry gazed at Fabian Prewett's dented watch. 'It was a gift,' he said quietly. 'It belonged to my mother-in-law's brother.'

Lavinia glanced at him sharply. 'Who's your mother-in-law?'

'Molly Weasley.'

Lavinia began to shake. 'It's Fabian's watch,' she murmured.

'Yeah.'

Lavinia reached under the counter for her wand and almost savagely jabbed it at the door. It locked with an ominously loud click in the otherwise silent shop. 'My son... Benjamin, he doesn't know any of this...' She stared at Harry. 'He's just about your age. He's two years younger than my nephew.'

Harry waved his wand and two stools appeared in front of the counter. 'How did you know Fabian Prewett?' he asked curiously, sliding onto the stool.

Lavinia's hand stole across the counter, fingers resting briefly on the face of the watch, caressing it lightly. 'We were... lovers,' she admitted, a faint flush darkening her cheeks. 'And he died in an ambush by five of my brother's... friends... with his twin.' Her eyes closed and Harry noticed a tremor begin to run through her, as if she were cold. 'Lucius made me watch,' she whispered. 'I don't know how he found out about Fabian and me, but he arranged to have him murdered, then disowned me. Even broke my wand.' Her voice broke, and Carter pressed a clean handkerchief in her hand. 'I've never spoken about this to anyone...' she said shakily.

'Take your time,' Harry told her. He already knew what had happened to her on that fateful day, but had a feeling she needed to talk about it.

Lavinia twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. 'The week before he died, we had made plans to leave England for good and go to Italy. After he... died...' She gulped and swiped the handkerchief over her face. 'I spent a few days in someone's cottage... I never did get her name.'

'Dorcas Meadowes,' Harry murmured.

'I was in a rather lot of shock,' she added apologetically.

'Of course,' Harry said quietly. Watching someone die a violent and senseless death was something he understood very well.

Lavinia's focus turned inward, and it seemed as if she had forgotten Harry and Carter were there.

The roar of the sea intensified and faded in a rocking rhythm that had toyed around the edges of Lavinia's mind. She sat up slowly, pushing tangled hair from her face, curiously examining the small bedroom that was dimly lit by a lamp on a bureau. She had no memory of how she got here. The last thing she remembered with any sort of clarity was Fabian...

Lavinia's face crumpled and she snatched up a pillow and pressed it to her face, muffling the sobs that surged to the surface. She allowed herself a moment to grieve, then her upbringing took over. A few deep breaths... There... Lavinia searched the room from her perch in the bed and located a hairbrush. She swung her feet to the floor and stood, the room tilting shakily for a moment. The hairbrush sat on top of her robes. They had been covered with dirt, grass, and Fabian's blood, but now... Now they were freshly laundered and pressed. Lavinia gripped the brush tightly and began to work it through the knots. I wonder what Fabian would think if I... she thought, before her hand tightened around the handle of the brush and it trembled briefly. She shook her head, and continued to gently tease out the snarls until she could run the brush freely through her hair. Lavinia swiftly unbuttoned the borrowed nightdress and quickly donned her robes. As she fastened the frog clasp of the overdress, she could feel Fabian's hands slide over hers. Lavinia closed her eyes and let her hands rest over the woven knot of the clasp, remembering one of the last times she'd felt his hands as he'd helped her dress in "their" cottage. Her eyes screwed shut and she held her breath. She could feel him, just behind her, his chest against her back, his head bent to hers, lips grazing over her ear, as he Apparated them both to Wiltshire.

Lavinia's eyes flew open. A small mirror hung on the wall in front of her. The space behind her was achingly empty, and all she could see in the mirror was her own haunted face staring back at her. She turned sharply away from it and reached behind her head, separating her hair into three sections and began to plait it. She bound the end with a thread raveled from the hem of the heavy underdress of her robes. Lavinia found the slippers that matched the robes and slid her feet into them as she looked out of a large window that dominated one wall of the room. It had a small handle, rather like the French doors that led from the sitting room of the mansion to the terrace. She put a hand on the handle and twisted experimentally. The door/window swung open silently and Lavinia stepped into the dark night.

She followed the sounds of the sea, feeling herself pulled inexorably toward it, and unable to turn away, even had she wanted. She stood on the edge of the cliff for minutes? Hours? She couldn't tell... Watching the sea far below ebb and flow over the scrap of a beach. Her breath caught in her throat and the tips of the slippers moved a bit closer to the precipice. The sky began to lighten with dawn and Lavinia dispassionately pondered her options. She could go to Molly, Fabian's younger sister, but no... Molly, Lavinia recalled, had not been pleased to hear Fabian was involved with her. Fabian had even recounted the conversation he'd had with Molly about her. He had been angrier than Lavinia had ever seen him. In any case, Molly wouldn't have been a viable option even she'd adored Lavinia. Lavinia mentally counted in her head, 'How many...?' She could hear Fabian talking about his numerous nephews. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ronnie... oh, and Molly just had another child... A girl, this time, I believe. What was her name? Something fanciful... Gwendolyn? No... Guinevere? Genevieve? No, but closer... Gin... Ginevra... Yes, Ginevra. They call her Ginny... That's... seven children... Lavinia refused to put Molly in danger, for Fabian's sake. And Molly and her children would be in danger. Simply because Lucius couldn't let her live. She knew. She knew all his secrets. All the hiding places. He also knew there was no love lost between them and it wouldn't trouble Lavinia at all to turn him into the Ministry, if things turned to the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was an option, but a futile one at that. Lavinia had only known Fabian or Gideon. The others might think she was setting them up for a trap, as Gideon had so often believed. She wondered if that's what had gone through his head as he died.

Thinking upon Molly's children made one of her hands steal up to her hip and slide over the heavy silk of her robes to rest just under the frog clasp, fingers spread wide. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, and Lavinia mourned the children with Fabian she'd never have, the tears sliding down her face to drip off her chin, leaving damp blotches on the bodice of her robes.

The toes of her slippers peeped over the jagged edge of the cliff and Lavinia looked down, her eyes blurred by tears. She started to lean forward, to fall down that abyss that was shallower than her internal chasm, but she fell backward, landing hard on her bottom.

Lavinia wheezed, trying to catch her breath - it had been quite knocked out of her when she fell. She swiped the sleeve of her robes over her streaming eyes and stared into the endless blue void overhead. 'If that was you...' she began, murmuring. 'I take it to mean you wish me not to join you so soon?' she asked aloud. Lavinia turned her head to look over the sea, the rough grass prickly under her cheek. 'Fine... I shall play by your rules. For the moment.' She sat up and pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the small village that huddled some distance away from the cliff's edge.

Once there, it was easy to steal a wand. Find some witch who thought it was too early for others to be about, with her wand sticking out of a pinafore's pocket, pretend to stumble into the witch, and slip the wand from her pocket as she pulled away. Walk quickly to the nearest alcove and Apparate to the cottage in Gloustershire.

Inside the cottage, hidden in the hearth, was a bag filled with her Muggle clothing and a considerable fortune in jewels and gold from her own Gringotts account hidden in the lining. Lavinia savagely ripped off the robes and threw them into the hearth. Naked, she snatched up the wand and pulled the plait over her shoulder and used the wand to sever it just above her shoulders. Her hair swung unevenly over them and she attempted to trim her hair into something more-or-less uniform. The shorn strands of hair joined the robes in the hearth and Lavinia turned to the bag and pulled out what had been Fabian's favorite jumper - the one he liked for her to wear and pulled it over her head. And because she could, a brand-new pair of trousers. It wasn't as if Lucius could dictate her attire any longer. And Lavinia was through with wearing robes if she could help it.

In fact, as she perused her reflection in the small pond behind the cottage, Lavinia Malfoy was dead. In her place stood Lavinia... Prewett...

Lavinia took a deep breath. She rubbed her fingers over her cheeks, surprised to find them wet with tears. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she realized she'd told the entire story to the two men sitting in stunned silence on the other side of the counter. 'I managed to get to Italy, like Fabian and I had planned, but I couldn't stay there. I had started using Fabian's name, and a sympathetic clerk in British Ministry office in Rome recognized Prewett as one of the families fighting against Lord Voldemort. He organized safe passage for me to America and issued me official documents listing my name as Lavinia Prewett. And I came to San Francisco. It sounded exotic,' she added with a hint of her customary wryness.

'So you didn't use the Order of the Phoenix's system to get out of England?' Harry asked.

Lavinia snorted. 'Do you honestly think they would have helped me escape from England?'

Harry remembered the night when Dumbledore had offered to help hide Draco and Narcissa. 'I do.'

'I didn't want to risk it,' Lavinia stated. 'I didn't trust anybody.'

'You said you had a son that's a bit younger than me,' Harry stated, mentally counting in his head. 'Is he...?'

'Fabian's?' Lavinia sighed. 'Yes. I didn't realize I was pregnant until I'd been here a few months, and while I wasn't running out of money, I didn't want to spend what I had squirreled away if I didn't have to. I wanted to earn my way for once. The San Francisco branch of the Salem Institute is fairly close, and the person who provided potions ingredients to the school wanted to sell his business. So I bought it. There's a fairly spacious flat upstairs. It's where I raised Ben and any other child from the San Francisco school who needed a place to go because their parents wouldn't allow them to come home.' She slowly exhaled. 'Who's looking for me...?'

'Narcissa Malfoy,' Harry replied.

'You're joking.' Lavinia shook her head. 'Lucius would never allow it.'

'You don't know, then?'

'Know what?'

'Lucius died two years ago.'

Lavinia blinked. 'Merlin... He's really gone?' Harry nodded. She slumped to the counter, shoulders shaking. Suddenly, Lavinia sat up and looked at Harry wildly. 'You can't tell her I'm alive!'

'Why not?'

'Promise me you won't say anything!' she demanded.

'All right. I won't. But you have to tell me why.'

'I left that life behind, Mr. Potter,' Lavinia said severely. 'I like the life I have here and Ben was able to grow up without all the nastiness associated with being part Malfoy.'

'Don't you think he has the right to know he's got an entire family in Britain?' Harry countered.

Lavinia traced the grain of the counter. 'Listen, Mr. Potter, I understand where you're coming from, but I don't want to be found. Tell Narcissa you could trace Lavinia Malfoy as far as Italy and that's it.'

*****

Harry nodded to the maitre d' of the snooty restaurant tucked into a side street of the Nob Hill neighborhood as he walked through the door, reflexively straightening his tie. 'I'm meeting my wife,' he said. 'Ginevra Potter.'

The man gazed at Harry in frank disapproval. Harry resisted the urge to glance at his suit. Ginny had chosen it and her taste in clothing was much better than his. He met the maitre d's eyes squarely, feeling his chin lift, ready to argue with the git for his attitude. 'This way,' the man sniffed, leading Harry to a table festooned with an inordinate amount of crystal, china, and silver. The heavy damask tablecloth was strewn with tiny candles and flower petals. The maitre d' swept the serviette off Harry's plate and draped it over his lap. Harry bit his lip, trying to not laugh aloud, keeping his eyes fixed on the plate. He accepted the menu from the maitre d' with a murmur of thanks and waited until the man minced his way back to the front of the dining room before breaking out into snickers that he smothered when other patrons began to look their way.

'Was it her?' Ginny asked.

Harry nodded, picking up a goblet filled with water, a paper-thin slice of lemon floating on the surface. 'Yeah.' He took a slow sip of the water and set the goblet down carefully. 'Can I ask you something completely hypothetical?'

'Of course.'

'If you knew one of your uncles had had a child, would you tell your mother?'

Ginny's eyes darkened suspiciously. 'Did she...?'

Harry's mouth turned down slightly. He knew he couldn't keep this from Ginny. 'Yes.'

'Oh...' Ginny's folded her hands in her lap and gazed at Harry. 'What did she say?'

'She asked me not to tell Narcissa about her, or anyone at all.'

'Ah.' Ginny smoothed her serviette over the knees and folded her hands in her lap. 'If we were talking about a complete stranger, what would you do?'

'I would record my findings in the case file, but I'd have to respect the wishes of the person in question.' Harry picked up a fork and began to trace patterns in the tablecloth. 'I'd also leave information with the person, in case they wanted to eventually contact who's looking for them.' An unctuous waiter appeared and rattled off a great many courses consisting of exotic ingredients. He and Ginny gave him their orders and Harry resumed the thread of their conversation. 'She has a son,' he said in a rough whisper.

Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. 'What...?' She knew it had to be Fabian's child, or else Harry wouldn't have mentioned it.

'Yeah. A bit less than a year younger than you,' Harry continued. 'And he knows nothing about her or even his own history.'

'You disagree,' Ginny stated.

'You know I do.' Harry gazed intently at the flame of the small candle in the middle of their table. 'I think she should at least tell him about you... us...'

Ginny nudged his ankle with her toes under the table. 'Are you going to mention anything to Mum?'

Harry shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know what to do... I think she should know, but I can't go against Lavinia's wishes. And I can't just lie to your mum...'

'Lying?' Ginny mused. 'It's not as if she can ask you to verify Fabian ever had a child. As far as she knows, he didn't. Withholding information...?' She trailed off as the waiter brought their starter course. He set what appeared to be a tiny collection of slivers of grilled vegetables, looking lost on the enormous plate in front of Ginny, then repeated the action with an equally large plate continuing a miniscule round of risotto, topped with tiny morsels of mushrooms with whimsical swirls of some sort of sauce around it. She gave Harry resigned look. 'Chinese takeaway when we go back to the hotel?' she sighed. At his nod, she continued. 'If you didn't personally know Mum, if she wasn't the closest thing to a mother you have right now, what would you do with this information?'

'I wouldn't say anything,' Harry said. 'Not to Molly, because she isn't directly involved in the case. The only person I can legally say anything to is Narcissa, because she initiated it.'

Ginny picked up her fork. 'Then there's your answer,' she told him softly, trying to suppress the tinge of sadness that colored her voice.

It was Harry's turn to nudge her ankle under the table. 'What is it, Gin?' he asked quietly.

Ginny dragged something purple around the plate. 'I wish I could meet him,' she finally admitted. 'We didn't really have cousins. Distant ones, yes. Mum and Dad's first cousins, but of course they were all much older than we were,' she added. 'It would just be nice...' She shook herself slightly. 'So, what's this Lavinia like?'

Harry felt a smile curve his lips. 'I think I know where Scorpius gets that rebellious streak from.'

*****

Harry made his way into the magical neighborhood of San Francisco and trudged up the steep hill to the small shop just on the other side of the crest. The brightly painted shutters glimmered in the fog that rolled into the streets off the bay. Harry opened the door, making the tiny bells tinkle as he walked through.

Lavinia came from the back room, a mortar and pestle cradled in her hands. 'Mr. Potter!' she exclaimed. 'What can I do for you?'

Silently, the fingers of Harry's right hand began to unstrap his watch from his wrist. He held balanced on the palm of his hand out to Lavinia. She looked down at it and shook her head. 'No... I couldn't.'

'Benjamin ought to have it,' Harry insisted, feeling his throat close. How could he explain its loss to Molly and still maintain Lavinia's secret? That's something I'll have to deal with when it happens, Harry told himself. 'It belonged to his father.'

Lavinia reached out and gently closed Harry's fingers over the watch. 'It's yours,' she said simply. She squeezed Harry's hand a little. 'Molly Weasley must think very highly of you if she passed Fabian's watch on to you.' She smiled a little tremulously. 'And Ben...' She inhaled deeply. 'Ben knows his father. Better than I imagine my nephew knew his... ' She looked over Harry's shoulder as the door to the shop opened, admitting a tall man, roughly the same age as Harry.

Harry turned and felt his mouth drop open, before he closed it with a snap. It was more than a bit disconcerting to see Ginny's large, dark eyes in the face of a man who also had Ron's long nose. His shoulders were broad, in the manner of Bill and Charlie's. And all this time, I thought Bill had resembled Arthur the most in build. It was obvious Benjamin took after his father. None of the Malfoy men had that sort of build, as far as Harry knew. Benjamin nodded politely to Harry strode into the back room. Harry took the opportunity to press an envelope into Lavinia's hand. 'In case you change your mind,' he told her, then walked out of the shop and made his way through the enshrouding fog to Salem, where Ginny waited to return to England.