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 94 - A Glimpse Into the Future

Posted:
07/19/2013
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1,094


James puttered around the changing room, Banishing the odd sock or glove back to its owner's cubby before settling into the rickety chair next to the battered desk in the tiny alcove that served as the Captain's office. He faithfully made notes after each and every practice, jotting down things that had gone well, and things that hadn't gone quite as well, with a few thoughts as to how they could improve it for next time. It was more than a bit tedious, but it kept his thoughts for the team organized. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to figure out what to do with Albus. Nobody on the team talked directly to Al, except him. Lily had thrown more than one reproachful glance in Al's direction during the last several practices. It made for a rather tense atmosphere on the pitch. Oh, their game was still top-notch, out of long habit, but even the most casual observer would be able to tell something was off. The sleet and snow that had been threatening all afternoon began to fall with a vengeance, and he could hear it pinging against the windows. The sound combined with the steamy warmth of the changing room lulled him into a bit of a stupor. He didn't hear the soft coughs that announced a presence on the threshold. 'James?' Al called softly.

James jumped and dropped his quill to the floor. In the scramble to pick it up, the heel of his trainer landed squarely on it and snapped it in half. 'Oh, bloody hell,' he muttered, pointing his wand at the abused quill. 'Reparo,' he added, feeling slightly silly at using magic to repair a quill, but he wasn't in the mood to try and locate another one in his trunk tonight. He threw the quill back to the desk and leaned back in the chair, gazing at his younger brother expectantly.

Al shrugged, figuring that was the all the invitation he was going to receive and perched on the edge of the bench closest to the desk. 'I wondered if I could have a word with you?' he asked hesitantly.

James propped his elbows on the desk. Al had been quite in his own bubble the past few weeks. He ate his meals alone, studied in the library until curfew drove him into his dormitory, and from what James had heard in snatches of gossip in the corridors; Al sat at a desk in class by himself, as well. Professors had to cajole, threaten, or otherwise persuade other students to partner with Al for lessons requiring a partner. 'All right.'

'I was an arse to Lily,' he stated plainly.

James snorted. 'Really? What gave you that daft idea?' he drawled sarcastically.

'I took out my frustrations on her, when she hasn't done anything. Except knock me on my bum last summer.'

'Which you and your ego so richly deserved,' James said pointedly.

'Enough, okay?' Al hissed. 'I get it. I made a dog's breakfast of it all.'

'Finally realized that, did you?' James stated, trying - and only failing just a little - to keep the smugness from his voice.

Al's eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed. 'What was wrong with me wanting to play for England?' he shot back, his voice low.

James met Al green eyes, darkened with nascent anger. 'Nothing,' he stated evenly. 'Nothing at all. It wasn't that you wanted to play for England. It was how you went about doing it. And if you can't see that, then the Sorting Hat got it wrong with you, and you should have gone into Slytherin.' Al reared back, mouth falling open, as he attempted to draw in breath.

'That was a low blow,' Al muttered.

'And true,' James replied evenly. 'You just didn't think.'

'What was I supposed to think about?'

James tucked his notes into his knapsack and tapped it with his wand, casting an Impervius charm on it to keep it dry on the trek back to the castle. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it so it stuck up at odd angles like Harry's. 'Did you ever think to talk with Mum and Dad first?'

'I did,' Al corrected sharply. 'Remember? They said no.'

'I do,' James said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. 'And I seem to remember it was all or nothing with you. You forgot the number one rule of dealing with Mum and Dad - always have an alternative ready. Compromise. For Merlin's sake, it was the first thing Teddy taught us when we were old enough to actually discuss something with Mum and Dad.' Al had been in the process of formulating an argument and came to a standstill in mid-gesture, mouth working a little. James gave Al a slightly sympathetic smile. 'All you ever had to do was give them an option they could live with, see. Mum and Dad's objections - and if I might speak for the others, it goes for most of us, too - had nothing to do with your ambitions.'

Al's mouth twisted and he glared at James. 'Oh, really?' he huffed. 'What do Mum and Dad know about ambition?'

James gave a short bark of laughter. 'Seriously?' he chortled, resisting the urge to break into outright guffaws. 'You think Mum and Dad haven't been ambitious? Just because they didn't go about it your way?' Al's face took on a particularly mottled magenta hue. 'Honestly... Mum and Dad aren't ambitious,' James repeated derisively. 'If Dad wasn't ambitious, he wouldn't be an Auror,' he stated. 'It's only slightly less difficult than becoming a Healer. He wouldn't be the Head, either. As for Mum, anyone that's spent their entire professional career in public eye like she has as a Quidditch player or reporter, you can't say she doesn't have ambition. She's worked for what she is, and you can't tell me if she had no ambition she wouldn't be the Quidditch editor today.' He paused to draw a deep breath, dimly aware his voice rose with each statement he made. 'Don't make the mistake of confusing ambition with being famous. Or infamous.'

'What would you know about that?' Al scoffed. 'All you've done is be some pub owners' glorified errand boy. A dogsbody for Uncle Ron and Uncle George.'

James shrugged, determined not to let Al see how annoyed he was. 'And I've learned lots about running a business from both of them. There's no shame in wanting to take over a family business,' he said mildly. 'Or lack of ambition. Opening a shop is easy. Keeping it open and successful? That's the hard part. Fred, Jacob, and I have a huge legacy to live up to.' He abruptly got up and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, before shouldering his knapsack. 'If you want to go about making amends or whatever this is you're doing, might I offer a small suggestion?'

'I guess,' Al told him evenly.

'Drop the superior attitude. That what you've done and what you will do is so much better than what the rest of us have got planned,' James retorted. He walked to the door of the changing room and paused, one hand on the doorknob. 'That's all anybody's ever wanted from you,' he told Al, pity clearly evident in his dark blue eyes. With his parting shot delivered, James opened the door and slipped into the night.

XxXxXxX

Condensation fogged the windows of the coffee shop near Piccadilly. It was blessedly warm, dimly lit, and a quiet refuge from the icy wind and glut of holiday shoppers crowding the streets of London. Christmas quickly approached, but Draco was no closer to purchasing a gift for either his wife or son than he had been last week. He pushed the door open, making the set of bells set just over the edge of the door tinkle gently underneath the soft music that wafted from the radio tucked into a corner. Draco pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of his coat, then ordered a latte and one of the shops positively enormous chocolate-chip cookies with only a hint of sheepishness. 'Good choice, Mr. Malfoy,' the girl behind the counter said with a grin. He ordered one every time he came into the shop, after much dithering over whether or not a man of his years ought to eat something so decadent. 'They've just been put out, so it's still warm,' she added as she slid the fresh, chewy cookie onto a plate. One of the chunks of chocolate had cracked, and the molten chocolate oozed through the opening. She set the plate on the counter and returned with Draco's coffee. He handed her the Muggle money with a smoothness that still amazed him, and carried his midday snack to a tiny table in the back. He stirred a little sugar into the latte and carefully broke off a portion of the cookie, then popped it into his mouth. It was delicious - the perfect combination of buttery cookie dotted with melting chocolate. He sat back and scanned the narrow space. It hadn't changed much since he had first come here with Daphne nearly three years ago. The people behind the counter changed every so often, but not enough so they didn't recognize Draco from his weekly visit. It gave him a measure of pride at how he was able to navigate the Muggle world now. In some ways, Draco even preferred it. Nobody here knew him as anything other than another regular customer. Lucius would have been appalled, but Draco hardly cared. He'd found there were lots of things in which his father believed that Draco found distasteful. Andrew walked into the coffee shop, giving Draco a cheery wave as he doffed his coat, shaking the rain from his head. He quickly ordered his own coffee and joined Draco at the table.

'Weather's beastly!' Andrew exclaimed, hanging his coat on a hook nearby. 'Any luck finding Christmas gifts?'

Draco pushed the plate with the cookie toward Andrew and snorted. 'None. Daphne usually takes care of Scorpius. She knows what he likes best more than I do. I thought I'd try and find something to include in his gift, and I've been combing through Muggle shops, but I feel I'm getting old. I don't understand half of what's out there.' He gestured to a young man at a neighboring table. 'Loads of them wearing great things on their ears, with music blasting out of them. I've seen buns smaller than those... whatever they're called.'

Andrew laughed softly. 'I will admit, it's pretty bewildering. I'm just happy my kids are still young enough to appreciate toys.'

'I feel I ought to find something for Daphne that isn't a book,' Draco confessed. 'I honestly do not think I should buy her clothing of any sort. If she wants something to use in the conservatory, she just purchases it anyway. I'm a bit lost.'

'Jewelry is usually a good fallback,' suggested Andrew.

Draco's eyes widened and he shook his head, picturing Daphne's customary bare hands. She didn't wear her wedding rings enough for it to qualify as "seldom". Occasionally, she might wear earrings, but she favored the few pieces she had inherited from her mother, and the only thing they had in common was their small size. She did wear a wristwatch, but it was the one she had received on her seventeenth birthday, and did not seem inclined to replace it. 'She doesn't really wear much,' he sighed.

'Have you thought about asking her what she wants?'

'But that would spoil the surprise!' Draco objected. 'Isn't that the point of the whole endeavor? To surprise the person receiving the gift?'

'One would think so,' Andrew replied dryly. 'But in my experience, it's better to at least have an idea of what your wife might want to find under the tree.' His face brightened and he began to chuckle. 'The first Christmas I celebrated with my wife after we were married, I felt as you did, and wanted to arrange her gift without asking for her input.' He wiped his eyes with a paper serviette and took a sip of his coffee. 'I also made the mistake of waiting until the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Shops were picked over and the only thing that I could find was this chunky wool cardigan. Perfect, I said to myself. Lotte's always cold.'

Draco found himself nodding in agreement. It made complete and total sense to him. 'Did she like it?'

Andrew's chuckles turned into whoops of laughter. 'Hardly. She took one look at it Christmas morning and tears welled up. She had been expecting something frivolous and romantic, not a practical, woolen, warm, cardie that wouldn't have been out of place in her auntie Trudy's bureau.' He let out a soft "ahhh" and picked up his oversized cup of coffee. 'I will say in my defense, it was a lovely shade of blue that matched her eyes. I did get extra credit for that. And in the end, Lotte did wear it quite often.' His eyes unfocused slightly. 'Not quite so often now that it's gotten rather stretched out of shape and a bit ragged around the edges.' Andrew shook his head to bring himself back to the present. 'Now that I think about it, if I replace it with something similar, it's sentimental and might be a good gift for her this year.' He sipped his coffee. 'Talk to Daphne. Save yourself weeks of heartache.'

Draco murmured, 'Good point. Do I just ask her outright...?'

Andrew rapidly shook his head. 'Good Lord, man, no! Do you want to keep sleeping in your bed?'

'Of course I do,' Draco said, feeling completely lost and confused. 'I like our bed.'

'Be as circumspect as you can,' Andrew advised. 'Ask questions, but keep it casual. You don't want her to be suspicious. Catch her when she's in a good mood. Relaxed.'

Draco's hand twitched with the urge to jot all this down, lest he forget. 'Right,' he muttered. 'Relaxed.' He blew out a long, slow breath. 'I appreciate the advice,' he said.

Andrew smiled gently. 'It's what friends do.'

Draco replied automatically, 'I don't have any friends.'

Andrew shook his head. 'You do,' he said. 'Me.'

'B-but you... I pay you to listen to my drivel,' Draco protested, albeit weakly. He flushed deeply. 'Well, not recently.'

'You haven't been my patient in a few months,' Andrew reminded him. 'If you still want a therapist, I can recommend a colleague...'

'No, thank you,' Draco interjected quickly.

Andrew regarded Draco soberly. 'I thought you knew.'

'I did wonder why you were so keen to start meeting here regularly,' Draco said sheepishly.

'It isn't something I do very often,' Andrew told him. 'In fact, you're the first patient I've ever had that's transitioned from patient to friend. You don't need me to tell you how to make your life livable. You're doing just fine on your own now. You do need someone who won't judge you, who'll let you blow off steam or meet for a pint at the pub and catch some footie. Discuss the meaning of life. You can still tell me what's on your mind, but now you can tell me to bugger off when I tell you what to do.

Quite frankly, Draco, I like the person you've become.'

Startled, Draco gaped at Andrew, his mouth full of cookie. 'Y-you do?' he gasped, when he managed to swallow.

'Yeah. You still behave like you've got a broomstick up your arse sometimes, but you're not a bad sort. Wicked sense of humor when you let your guard down. Good knowledge of Quidditch, but you still have lots to learn about football.'

'Thanks. I think. There must have been a compliment in there somewhere.'

'There was,' Andrew smirked.

'Buried very deeply,' Draco retorted, but his shoulders straightened just a bit and a light settled in his eyes and never left. This wasn't a relationship he'd had to coerce out of someone. Nor was he required to take the role of either the leader, nor the follower. It was a singularly unique experience for Draco, realized that as with Daphne, he could just be himself with Andrew, leaving his past behind.

XxXxXxX

Draco lifted the sheet of parchment and extended it as far as his arm would allow, squinting slightly. The neatly-written text blurred and swam as he blinked, slowly drawing it in until it snapped into a semblance of focus. He recognized his need for glasses to aid reading or any sort of close work, but his vanity refused to acknowledge it. Draco's mouth lifted briefly at the sudden picture of Minerva McGonagall sternly peering at him over the rims of her square-framed glasses. She hadn't been impressed by his pedigree and displayed it by treating Draco as she would any other student at Hogwarts. He could still recall the triumph from informing her of Harry and Hermione's violations of the rules fading into outright horror as she punished him for being out of bounds, reminding him without saying anything more, she didn't care who his father was. Rules at Hogwarts were meant to be followed by everyone. Including the scion of the ancient family of Malfoy. Draco, for his part, had been so stunned, he quite forgot to protest. Something he made sure not to do when he was told to go into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.

He had been terrified then of his father's reaction to the news of his detention, but now, Draco wished he could thank McGonagall. Not that the other teachers - with the glaring exception of Severus Snape - had ever deferred to his imperiousness as lone living heir to the bulk of the combined fortunes of the Black family through his mother and the Malfoys, but McGonagall, with the mere lift of an eyebrow, had been able to communicate disdain for Draco's attitude and that it wouldn't be tolerated in her classroom. Ever. As a student, Draco bristled under her scrutiny, but as an adult, he had learned he could no longer coast on the coattails of his heritage. While he wrote his books, Draco often pictured McGonagall giving him that slight smile, far more visible in her eyes than her lips that denoted approval. It startled Draco at times how much he longed for that now. Because now he knew her approval was without conditions and given on the merits of the completion of the task.

It would have been worth more than all the gold in his father's vault had she bestowed him with one of those rare smiles today.

Draco set the parchment down and rubbed his burning, watering eyes. He wandered away aimlessly from his desk, drifting up the wide, curved staircase until he'd made his way to the bedroom he shared with Daphne. He no longer occupied the spacious master suite, but had moved his things into Daphne's bedroom. She had graciously removed some of the frillier décor, and placed a sturdy, but comfortable armchair on the opposite side of one of the windows from her rocking chair. Together they had decorated the room in shades of blues and greens, evoking the blue-green ocean waters off the coast of Nice and the trees surrounding his mother's villa nestled high in the hills above the sea. If Draco never saw deep, emerald green again, he would be a happy man.

Muted winter sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, highlighting the small mahogany box where she kept her few pieces of jewelry. Idly, he lifted the hinged lid and ran a finger lightly across the contents with a reflexive glance over his shoulder. Daphne wasn't home - she'd gone to meet Ginny Potter for lunch, like she had done nearly every week since he'd been ill with dragon pox. Her favorite teardrop shaped emerald earrings sparkled as they tumbled under his ministrations. He upended a velvet bag and pearl choker slipped through his fingers, followed by matching earrings, and a bracelet. The next small velvet bag contained a fine, gold chain with a series of three pear-shaped rubies descending in a single line from it, the smallest at the top and the largest at the bottom. An oval cameo brooch, meant to be pinned to a wide ribbon or strip of lace and worn at the throat that had been passed down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter for generations. It contained the profile of a Grecian girl, carved in milky white shell against a pale blue background. Draco had a fleeting recollection of it gracing Daphne's robes at their wedding. A ring set with a shimmering opal rounded out Daphne's small collection of jewels that she had brought with her on the occasion of their marriage. Curiously, Draco pulled open a small drawer under the main compartment of the box and withdrew a square, bottle-green leather bound box. He thumbed it open, and stared at the contents. Daphne's wedding rings stared back at him. While he supposed her description of them as hideous was in the eye of the beholder, they certainly didn't suit her. He knew why his father had chosen this particular set from the family vault. They were heavy with white gold and diamonds, as if Lucius had had to prove materially the family was still worth something in their society. The ring that had been presented to Daphne on the day the engagement had been made public had a large diamond in the center in a cathedral setting. Four smaller diamonds were set around it, and four more diamonds were set into the ring itself, two on each side of the center diamond. The wedding band had five diamonds set across the top. Compared to the delicate, modest pieces in the top section of the box, the rings were almost gaudy and bulky. Together, they were a half an inch wide on Daphne's finger, dominating her hand. Little wonder why she only wore them when the situation demanded it.

'What are you doing?' Daphne demanded from the open bedroom door.

Startled, Draco's hand jerked and the rings slipped from his hand, clattering to the table, then bouncing off to land with soft thuds on the rug under his feet. Flushed and flustered, he stooped and scooped the rings off the floor. 'Nothing,' he muttered, stuffing the rings back into the box and shoving it into the drawer.

Daphne toed her shoes off and set them inside her wardrobe. 'You looked like a little boy caught doing something naughty,' she laughed. She shrugged her coat from her shoulders and hung it in the wardrobe as well, then removed a bulky cardigan and bundled herself into it.

'I was just looking,' Draco told her stiffly. He poured the necklaces back into their bags and tucked them into the top of the box and shut the lid with a soft bang.


Daphne reached past him and pulled out the box with her wedding rings. 'Not really my sort of thing are they?' she said dispassionately as she slid them onto her finger. The diamonds flashed in the midday sunlight.

'I suppose not,' Draco allowed. 'What if I were to get you something different?' he blurted in a rush of inspiration.

'What do you mean?' Daphne asked, tugging the rings off and replacing them in their box.

'If I were to find something more suitable, would you wear them?' Draco inquired with hope clearly written on his features.

Daphne smiled slightly. 'I might.'

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. 'All right, then.' He absently brushed a kiss over her cheek and walked toward the door. 'How was your lunch?' he threw over his shoulder, changing the subject.

'It was fine.' Daphne scurried after Draco. 'It's all right that you were looking at my things,' she told him.

'I wasn't worried,' Draco replied. He headed for the kitchen. 'Tea?'

'That would be lovely. Thank you.' Mystified by Draco's smug grin, Daphne followed him into the kitchen, rather than going into the conservatory, as per her original plan. 'You reminded me of Scorpius when he was younger,' she commented.

'Oh?' Draco pushed open the door and greeted Perri. 'Smells delicious,' he said to the elf, who was up to her eyebrows in dinner preparations. He made a great deal of noise filling the kettle and banging it on the table where he and Daphne usually ate meals on Perri's weekly day off and during her holidays.

Perri immediately bustled over, a reproving look on her pointed face. 'Mr. Draco!' she squeaked. 'It is being my job to be making tea,' she insisted.

'Perri, I know you think I'm a blithering idiot when it comes to the kitchen, but I'm more than capable of making a pot of tea,' Draco said, poking in a cupboard for the tea Daphne liked best. Perri snorted, and merely crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. Draco poured the boiling water over the tealeaves and left the pot to steep while he prepared the rest of the tray. He put a handful of biscuits on a plate and filled the milk jug. Feeling oddly proud of himself of managing not to make a complete mess of it all, he blindly reached for a box, confident it was sugar, and was about to sift the contents into the sugar bowl when he heard a snap and his arm refused to budge.

Perri snickered. 'If you is knowing how to make tea, then why is you about to put salt in the sugar bowl? Daphne quickly covered her mouth with her hand to smother the smile that curved her lips.

Draco's face slowly turned bright crimson as he finally looked at the label. "Salt" was emblazoned in bold letters over the front. His shoulders hunched as he quickly replaced it, then removed the correct box from the cupboard and hastily dumped a pile of sugar into the bowl, scattering it over the counter in his embarrassment. The tray prepared, he snatched it up, with a curt nod to Perri.

'Now, if you could be leaving me to finish making dinner in peace,' Perri said briskly, shooing Draco and Daphne to the door with motions of her tiny hands.. 'And Mr. Draco?'

Draco paused, his back against the swinging door. 'Yes?'

'You could be checking your pockets before putting your trousers in the laundry,' she said, in her usual bossy manner. 'You is nearly ruining your clothes with bits of this and that left in them,' she scolded.

'Yes, ma'am,' he murmured. 'Perri?' The small elf glanced up from her pastry base. 'I really appreciate what you do for us.' Perri's sketchy brows shot up but she gave Draco a short nod and continued with her work, waiting until Draco had left the kitchen before pulling a tiny handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse and blowing her nose with a sound out of all proportion to her size.

Draco walked to the library and set the tray on the low table in front of the sofa, then poured tea into the waiting mugs, adding milk and sugar to Daphne's mug. 'So you were saying something about Scorpius?' he asked, handing the mug to her.

Daphne blew on the surface of the liquid before taking a sip. 'Sometimes, I'd catch him in here, looking through the books, with such a guilty expression. Like I'd caught him in the Restricted Section at school.' She tilted her head to one side. Draco had never shown much interest in her personal belongings, other than her books. Especially her wedding rings. 'I can start wearing the rings more often if you like,' she offered.

Draco glanced at her over the rim of his mug. 'Why? You said it yourself they don't suit you.'

Daphne ran a finger around the rim of her mug. 'It seems important to you,' she said softly. 'It isn't the first time you've brought up them up in conversation.'

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. 'You don't like them, then you don't like them. I won't force you to do something you do not care to do,' he reminded her. 'Not anymore.'

Daphne settled into the corner of the sofa and studied Draco's profile. His face still had its sharp features, but lately they seemed softer. The corners of his mouth rarely turned down in disapproval or anger, and while he probably never would smile broadly nor laugh unreservedly, both were more frequent visitors than they had been in the past. He seemed much more content than at any point in their marriage. Even how he had handled the incident in the kitchen with Perri was far different that anything she had seen before. Where previously, he might have ignored the elf, or merely ordered her to prepare an elaborate tea for them, regardless of what she was doing, he had taken the few brief moments to ascertain if it would be bothersome to Perri to stop what she was doing and complete a simple task Draco could do himself. 'You've changed,' she murmured.

'Have I?' Draco's ears turned pink with pleasure.

'It was lovely what you said to Perri,' Daphne told him. 'I think she's been feeling rather useless lately.'

Draco gazed at the high ceiling. 'We don't use much of the house,' he remarked. 'Most of it's been closed off for ages. Seems a bit silly to live here sometimes. All we use regularly is this room, our bedroom, the bath, and the kitchen. The dining room we're forced to use because Perri won't hear of us taking our meals in the kitchen. The conservatory and stillroom.' Draco turned his sober grey eyes to the tall doors on the other side of the library. They opened to the ballroom. Draco hadn't set foot in there since the day he'd received the Dark Mark. 'Rather too grand for the likes of us,' he said lightly. 'Even if we were to live in something smaller,' he began, 'I'd still want to keep her on. I can't cook if my life depended on it.' He took another long look around the room. 'That isn't a bad idea,' he mused.

'What?'

'A smaller house.'

'Really?'

Draco nodded. 'There are very few good memories here. Somewhere else...' he trailed off. 'After Mother and Father relocated to Nice, I tried to renovate here and there. Just so when I walked into a room, I didn't see him everywhere I looked. I wanted it to be somewhere else, so as not to relive my stupidity on a daily basis.'

'Did it help?'

'A bit,' Draco admitted. 'Closing off most of the house helped even more. My old bedroom, our bedroom, and Scorpius' bedroom were some of the few rooms that were never contaminated by them. Hardly anyone of them came into this room, and usually it was only my aunt Bellatrix and she didn't linger. They weren't really the intellectual type. Mother rebuilt the conservatory after the war. And she did make our rooms sacrosanct and off limits to everyone. Including V-v-v-voldemort.' Draco reflexively glanced around the room, as if Voldemort might pop out of the wallpaper. 'It was the only time anyone ever stood up to him.' Draco grinned at the memory. 'But she did it in such a way, that he thought she flattered him.' He found himself reflexively twisting his wedding ring around his finger. 'I still don't know how she did it. She was properly obsequious, convincing him our rooms weren't good enough for him. And he believed her. And I had a somewhat safe place to hide when I needed it.' He stared at the ballroom doors. 'Mother was much braver than I ever imagined I could be.' Draco picked up his mug of tea and sipped it moodily.

'You're much braver than you think,' Daphne told him quietly. 'How many people are brave enough to admit they need to change something about themselves, then actually do it?' she asked rhetorically. 'Not many.' She reached for one of his hands with her free one and twined her fingers through his. 'Now if only you'd stop underselling yourself, that would truly be a gift I would love.'

XxXxXxX

Al perched on the edge of his bed, taking more time than usual to tie his shoelaces. He waited anxiously for Scorpius to emerge from the bathroom. It was now or never. The sign up sheet to stay over the Christmas holidays had gone up on the notice board yesterday, and Scorpius' name was at the top of the list for the first time in six years.

The last few months had given Al a mere taste of what it must have felt like to be Scorpius, especially when they first started at Hogwarts. Al and Harry had barely said two words to one another since that disastrous night last August. Ginny still wrote to him, but her letters that had once been chatty and overflowed with affection now seemed stilted. The only one who would talk to him at all was James. It put Al in mind of how Scorpius had described his own family, especially once he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor. Al often replayed that argument with Scorpius, feeling sick to his stomach as he heard himself mock his best friend for something that was quite out of Scorpius' control, not to mention saying lots of things that ran counter to what he'd been taught from a very early age - their family welcomed anyone who needed a family into their circle.

Scorpius trudged into the dormitory, wiping his mouth on a small towel that he draped over a railing near the fire. He looked startled at the sight of Al sitting by himself, and busied himself with donning his own socks and shoes, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor.

Al cleared his throat a few times. 'Could we talk?' he asked awkwardly.

Scorpius said nothing, but his mouth tightened as he shoved a foot into a trainer.

Al exhaled slowly. 'Please?' he added desperately.

'Why? So you can insult me again?' Scorpius scoffed.

Al swallowed several times. 'No. So I can apologize for being an absolute arse.'

Scorpius looked up and met Al's gaze. 'You've been a right smarmy bastard,' he said levelly.

'Yeah.' Al pulled his knees up to his chest. 'I shouldn't have said those things about you,' he said tightly. 'It was wrong of me to say such things about your... your family,' he choked. 'I'm so sorry.' He sniffed and blinked several times, rubbing his eyes. Scorpius swiftly and tactfully dropped his gaze to his hands, giving Al a bit of privacy to collect himself. 'I've been able to see what you've had to deal with your whole life the past few months, and I know that I would never be able to handle it as well as you do.' Al knuckled his eyes, hoping he didn't burst into heaving sobs like a baby.

Scorpius pulled on his remaining trainer and slowly tied the laces. He could feel the words rush to his lips, all the things he had wanted to say to Al over the past couple of months crowding his tongue. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He sat mutely on the edge of his bed, studying Al's bent frame, face contorting in an effort not to cry. It was obvious Al felt terribly guilty and realized how much he had wronged his friends and family. Even more obvious was Al finally saw the gulf that had opened between him and everyone else, and he was unsure if he would ever be able to bridge the chasm. Scorpius mulled over all the things he could hurl at Al. How Al had made them all feel awful, throwing their worst fears into their faces. How he'd been completely insufferable leading up to the World Cup and afterward. But in a moment of clarity Scorpius couldn't quite explain, he saw his father. A lonely, solitary figure, still reeling from mistakes he'd made when he'd been no older than Al. He couldn't consign Al to that sort of personal hell, especially not after he'd seen what it had done to his father. 'What about Lily?' he found himself asking.

'What about her?' Al asked stiffly.

'Will you apologize to her?'

Al's eyes dropped to his clenched hands. 'She won't even stay in the same room with me,' he said miserably.

'Can you blame her?' Scorpius shot back. 'You publicly humiliated her.'

'I know.' Al toyed with his shoelaces. He stole a glance at his friend and ventured, 'You really like her, don't you?'

Scorpius face turned pink, but he merely replied gruffly, 'She's a good friend.' He saw Al open his mouth from the corner of his eye and shook his head. 'I'd rather keep it that way for now, if you don't mind,' he said tartly. 'She is, as you so bluntly pointed out, young.' He felt his shoulders rise and drop in a nonchalant shrug. 'And I'm not going to discuss Lily with you.'

Al's stomach churned as once again, the depth to which he'd lost Scorpius' trust yawned between them. 'Yeah... all right.'

'She's your sister,' Scorpius said evenly. 'And, again, as you said, it's not quite the thing to discuss one's feelings - romantic or otherwise - regarding someone's sibling,' he told Al stiffly. Scorpius snatched up his jumper from the bed and yanked it over his head. 'Rosie's going to go spare,' he remarked. 'She's all but vowed to dislike you until your head shrivels up and falls off.'

Al could almost feel his body shrink into itself, feeling the weight of defeat drag at his fingertips, nearly pulling him through the floor. 'Oh. Right.'

Scorpius forced himself to laugh, but it rang hollow to his own ears. 'She'll come round,' he said. 'Eventually...' His hand rose as if to give Al a hearty slap on the back, but it faltered, and Scorpius quickly covered the action by running his hand through his hair. 'Come on,' he said brusquely. 'There won't be any breakfast left, and I'm starving.'

Al trailed after him in a haze. His stomach coiled into knots as he wondered if he would ever be able to make amends with what proved to be an extensive list of people.