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Hagrid has a moleskin greatcoat, the contents of which only he can access. Funny thing, moleskin, and useful, too.
In the inside pocket, third from the left, he keeps a vial full of sludge. A memento of sorts, from the Portable Swamp set off in Hogwarts by Fred and George Weasley. Back when they were innocent, and young, and together. Back when George had two ears and a twin.
He stops in to see George at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes every so often. George smiles and jokes with him, but Hagrid can tell that a part of him is missing. Sometimes George will turn to his left slightly when he says something witty, as if Fred is standing there, about to top him with something even funnier. Once George even said his name, said, “Eh, Fred?” and turned, only to sag despondently when he remembered that Fred wasn’t there. That Fred would never be there again.
George and Hagrid never speak of that incident.
In the pocket closest to his armpit, he keeps a dirty, crumpled velvet bow that once adorned the curls of Dolores Umbridge. It reminds him that some people, no matter how nice he is, will always see him as an abomination. It reminds him not to care.
In the pocket on the right shoulder, there is a magically shrunken cane that once belonged to Mad Eye Moody. Hagrid keeps it there so that hopefully some of Mad Eye’s resilience, some of his unconquerable fight, will rub off on him. Mad Eye was a great man, a man Hagrid respected, and his loss is still like an ache in Hagrid’s heart.
In the fourth pocket in the second row on the left side of the coat, there is a tiny sock. It belonged, when it had a match and was being dirtied by a tiny foot, to Teddy Lupin. Teddy loves Hagrid. Whenever Hagrid visits Teddy at Harry’s flat in London, the baby screams with joy and yells, “Hagger!” It reminds Hagrid of Grawp, which stings, but then Teddy smiles at him and starts rummaging in his pockets, and he can’t say no to the toddler.
Harry looks tired nowadays. In Hagrid’s top left pocket, close to his heart, he keeps a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. He tries to give it to Harry every time he visits, but Harry won’t take it. He says Teddy may need him during the night, and he can’t be conked out with a potion.
Harry really has done an admirable job of keeping the baby healthy and happy. Hagrid suspects this is largely due to the influence of Ginny Weasley, who practically lives at Harry’s flat and mothers both him and the baby with skill to rival her mother’s.
This reminds Hagrid of another trinket in his large, secret-filled greatcoat. A delicate, goblin-wrought locket, on a fine thin chain, which he keeps it in the pocket closest to the bottom hem of his coat, as if that will help him forget it’s there.
He still remembers the day it came into his possession. A night, rather, at the Burrow, during the war. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off looking for Horcruxes, and Hagrid was giving the Weasley’s an update on some of the goings-on in the Order.
As he took his leave, he discerned two slender figures beneath the trees at the edge of the Weasley property. Edging closer, he took care to be as inconspicuous as his size would let him. Wrapped up in each other, neither party noticed him.
“But why?,” a voice whispered, and he recognized Ginny Weasley.
“Ginny, I have to,” whispered a male voice that sounded familiar to Hagrid. What struck him more than the familiarity was the tone in which the voice said Ginny’s name. The particular way it lingered over the first syllable, as if savoring the sound.
“No you don’t,” Ginny whispered, her voice rough. “You promised me you wouldn’t fight Harry. You promised.”
“Your precious Potter,” the voice spat, and Hagrid finally recognized Draco Malfoy. “This is all for his benefit, isn’t it?”
“No, Draco,” Ginny murmured. “This is for you. What you’re doing is wrong! You told me you didn’t want this.”
“I don’t,” Draco returned. “But I can’t exactly hand in my two weeks notice and tell the Dark Lord, ‘Ta ta! I’ve decided this whole Muggle-killing, Mudblood-torturing thing isn’t exactly my cup of tea.’”
“We can protect you,” Ginny said, a fierce note in her voice, as if she would single-handedly take on the job. “I’m sure the Order--”
“The Order can’t do anything to save me,” Draco said. “I’ll have to do it of my own accord. And I can’t right now, Ginny, you have to believe me.”
“I don’t believe you, Draco,” she returned, her voice taking on a distant note. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you? I’m just a convenient shag, aren’t I? You’ll tell me whatever I want to hear.”
“Ginny, it’s not like that, I swear it’s not,” Draco insisted. “I...I think you’re very special. I’d do anything for you.”
“Then why won’t you do this?”
“I’ve told you, it’s not that easy,” Draco hissed. “I’ve got to make a plan.”
“You’ve had time to make a plan, Draco,” Ginny said. Hagrid detected finality in her voice. “You really don’t care, do you? Like I said, you’re just going to tell me whatever I want to hear to keep me coming back to you. And I’m not doing that anymore.”
“Ginny--”
“No, Draco,” she said. Hagrid heard a faint click as she reached up to her neck. She pulled a sparkling chain away and held it out to Draco. “I’m not letting you jerk me around. Go away.”
“Please, Ginny, you’ve got to see sense! I love you,” Draco spat, and Hagrid thought it cost him enormous effort to admit it.
“Obviously not,” she whispered. “Take it and go,” she added, dangling the necklace in front of him.
“I gave it to you,” Draco said stonily. “I meant for you to have it, and I’m not taking it back.”
“Fine,” Ginny said, and threw it with all her might. It landed right at Hagrid’s feet, and as they continued to argue, he quietly picked it up and pocketed it.
“Just leave me alone, Draco Malfoy,” she hissed at him. “I’m not your plaything, and obviously you weren’t serious about leaving You-Know-Who. You lied to me.”
“Ginny, please, let me explain.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Ginny whirled gracefully on her heel, hair whipping around behind her, and strode quickly back to the Burrow.
Draco muttered an oath and apparated away.
Now, whenever Hagrid sees Ginny, he remembers her young, earnest voice. The way she lingered over Draco’s name in just the way he lingered over hers. The heartbreak in her stick-straight posture as she strode away from Draco.
She coos and tucks Teddy into bed, kisses Harry goodnight, embraces Hagrid, and departs to the Burrow with a jaunty wave.
“God, she’s great,” Harry sighs after her. “I don’t know what Teddy and I would do without her.”
The locket in Hagrid’s greatcoat digs into his shin as he sits on Harry’s tattered couch. He grunts and says nothing.
In the inside pocket, third from the left, he keeps a vial full of sludge. A memento of sorts, from the Portable Swamp set off in Hogwarts by Fred and George Weasley. Back when they were innocent, and young, and together. Back when George had two ears and a twin.
He stops in to see George at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes every so often. George smiles and jokes with him, but Hagrid can tell that a part of him is missing. Sometimes George will turn to his left slightly when he says something witty, as if Fred is standing there, about to top him with something even funnier. Once George even said his name, said, “Eh, Fred?” and turned, only to sag despondently when he remembered that Fred wasn’t there. That Fred would never be there again.
George and Hagrid never speak of that incident.
In the pocket closest to his armpit, he keeps a dirty, crumpled velvet bow that once adorned the curls of Dolores Umbridge. It reminds him that some people, no matter how nice he is, will always see him as an abomination. It reminds him not to care.
In the pocket on the right shoulder, there is a magically shrunken cane that once belonged to Mad Eye Moody. Hagrid keeps it there so that hopefully some of Mad Eye’s resilience, some of his unconquerable fight, will rub off on him. Mad Eye was a great man, a man Hagrid respected, and his loss is still like an ache in Hagrid’s heart.
In the fourth pocket in the second row on the left side of the coat, there is a tiny sock. It belonged, when it had a match and was being dirtied by a tiny foot, to Teddy Lupin. Teddy loves Hagrid. Whenever Hagrid visits Teddy at Harry’s flat in London, the baby screams with joy and yells, “Hagger!” It reminds Hagrid of Grawp, which stings, but then Teddy smiles at him and starts rummaging in his pockets, and he can’t say no to the toddler.
Harry looks tired nowadays. In Hagrid’s top left pocket, close to his heart, he keeps a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. He tries to give it to Harry every time he visits, but Harry won’t take it. He says Teddy may need him during the night, and he can’t be conked out with a potion.
Harry really has done an admirable job of keeping the baby healthy and happy. Hagrid suspects this is largely due to the influence of Ginny Weasley, who practically lives at Harry’s flat and mothers both him and the baby with skill to rival her mother’s.
This reminds Hagrid of another trinket in his large, secret-filled greatcoat. A delicate, goblin-wrought locket, on a fine thin chain, which he keeps it in the pocket closest to the bottom hem of his coat, as if that will help him forget it’s there.
He still remembers the day it came into his possession. A night, rather, at the Burrow, during the war. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off looking for Horcruxes, and Hagrid was giving the Weasley’s an update on some of the goings-on in the Order.
As he took his leave, he discerned two slender figures beneath the trees at the edge of the Weasley property. Edging closer, he took care to be as inconspicuous as his size would let him. Wrapped up in each other, neither party noticed him.
“But why?,” a voice whispered, and he recognized Ginny Weasley.
“Ginny, I have to,” whispered a male voice that sounded familiar to Hagrid. What struck him more than the familiarity was the tone in which the voice said Ginny’s name. The particular way it lingered over the first syllable, as if savoring the sound.
“No you don’t,” Ginny whispered, her voice rough. “You promised me you wouldn’t fight Harry. You promised.”
“Your precious Potter,” the voice spat, and Hagrid finally recognized Draco Malfoy. “This is all for his benefit, isn’t it?”
“No, Draco,” Ginny murmured. “This is for you. What you’re doing is wrong! You told me you didn’t want this.”
“I don’t,” Draco returned. “But I can’t exactly hand in my two weeks notice and tell the Dark Lord, ‘Ta ta! I’ve decided this whole Muggle-killing, Mudblood-torturing thing isn’t exactly my cup of tea.’”
“We can protect you,” Ginny said, a fierce note in her voice, as if she would single-handedly take on the job. “I’m sure the Order--”
“The Order can’t do anything to save me,” Draco said. “I’ll have to do it of my own accord. And I can’t right now, Ginny, you have to believe me.”
“I don’t believe you, Draco,” she returned, her voice taking on a distant note. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you? I’m just a convenient shag, aren’t I? You’ll tell me whatever I want to hear.”
“Ginny, it’s not like that, I swear it’s not,” Draco insisted. “I...I think you’re very special. I’d do anything for you.”
“Then why won’t you do this?”
“I’ve told you, it’s not that easy,” Draco hissed. “I’ve got to make a plan.”
“You’ve had time to make a plan, Draco,” Ginny said. Hagrid detected finality in her voice. “You really don’t care, do you? Like I said, you’re just going to tell me whatever I want to hear to keep me coming back to you. And I’m not doing that anymore.”
“Ginny--”
“No, Draco,” she said. Hagrid heard a faint click as she reached up to her neck. She pulled a sparkling chain away and held it out to Draco. “I’m not letting you jerk me around. Go away.”
“Please, Ginny, you’ve got to see sense! I love you,” Draco spat, and Hagrid thought it cost him enormous effort to admit it.
“Obviously not,” she whispered. “Take it and go,” she added, dangling the necklace in front of him.
“I gave it to you,” Draco said stonily. “I meant for you to have it, and I’m not taking it back.”
“Fine,” Ginny said, and threw it with all her might. It landed right at Hagrid’s feet, and as they continued to argue, he quietly picked it up and pocketed it.
“Just leave me alone, Draco Malfoy,” she hissed at him. “I’m not your plaything, and obviously you weren’t serious about leaving You-Know-Who. You lied to me.”
“Ginny, please, let me explain.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Ginny whirled gracefully on her heel, hair whipping around behind her, and strode quickly back to the Burrow.
Draco muttered an oath and apparated away.
Now, whenever Hagrid sees Ginny, he remembers her young, earnest voice. The way she lingered over Draco’s name in just the way he lingered over hers. The heartbreak in her stick-straight posture as she strode away from Draco.
She coos and tucks Teddy into bed, kisses Harry goodnight, embraces Hagrid, and departs to the Burrow with a jaunty wave.
“God, she’s great,” Harry sighs after her. “I don’t know what Teddy and I would do without her.”
The locket in Hagrid’s greatcoat digs into his shin as he sits on Harry’s tattered couch. He grunts and says nothing.
Author notes: Story and chapter titles are both from The Secret's In the Telling by Dashboard Confessional.
The End.
fabulousferret is the author of 1 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 13 members. Members who liked The Secret's in the Telling also liked 1227 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 13 members. Members who liked The Secret's in the Telling also liked 1227 other stories.
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