In My Life

Chapter 1

Ginny rose slowly from her knees and stretched her aching muscles. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to speak to people through the Floo. She usually let Ellen do it for her, but not with this particular errand. If her granddaughter knew what she was up to, she would surely find some way to thwart Ginny’s plans.

Two days earlier, Ellen had come to Ginny with momentous news: she had fallen in love, and was to be married within the month. At first, Ginny had been astonished. At thirty years of age, Ellen had never showed much interest in men. She seemed to be content with her job in the Department of Mysteries, to stay at the Burrow most evenings with a good book or a puzzle or some knitting, and to spend the weekends playing or watching Quidditch with her cousins and their children. As Ellen gushed about her fiancé, however, her previous lack of interest seemed irrelevant, and Ginny hadn’t been able to stop smiling

The next evening, Ellen had brought Dietrich home to meet Ginny. He was polite and friendly, and clearly just as besotted as Ellen was. Ginny could see that they would be happy together. She was content; now all of her grandchildren would be settled. What more could she want?

After Dietrich had left Ellen alone with Ginny, Ellen had told her that Dietrich had agreed to move into the Burrow once they married. Ginny had listened quietly as she explained, “I know you’re still strong and independent, Gran, but nobody your age should live alone. Dietrich understands—his mum took a fall once, and was never the same afterwards. I couldn’t live with myself if something like that happened to you!” Ginny had hugged Ellen then, which successfully distracted the young woman enough that she didn’t realize Ginny had never actually responded.

Ginny had stayed awake most of the night, thinking about Ellen and Dietrich, and about her own marriage to Harry. They had both been very happy for most of their sixty-seven years together, she knew that. But she had never told anyone—who could she tell?—that she had always been a little disappointed by their relationship. She had always felt as if she had to compete for Harry’s attention. Her parents had been wonderful about trying to give the newlyweds privacy, but they were still always there. So were her brothers, and eventually their wives and children, who would drop by at all hours of the day. Harry had found this constant presence comforting, but Ginny had found it distracting and frustrating, and had wished for some time away—just for the two of them.

Ginny had often wondered how different her life would have been if she and Harry hadn’t lived with her family, if they had found a home of their own. She would never know the answer, of course, but she could keep Ellen from wondering the same thing.

When Ginny had woken that morning, she knew what she would do. Living alone wasn’t an option at the age of ninety-three. (She shuddered at the thought of an elderly wizard she had recently read about—he had splinched himself, but it had been days before his children discovered his legs in his drawing room and the rest of him in the bath.) If Ginny were to stay at the Burrow, she would certainly need someone to stay with her—but there really was no reason she had to stay.

As she stood up, Ginny looked around her kitchen. Even at its worst moments, the Burrow had always been full of life, and now it seemed to be alive with memories. Every room she entered, every object she touched, triggered some past moment, be it good or bad, commonplace or consequential. Ginny would find it extremely difficult to leave this place, she knew. But then Ginny thought of her appointment to visit Notting Park the next day, and felt a tingle of excitement. Although she was considering moving there primarily for Ellen’s sake, it could be the kind of adventure she hadn’t experienced in years. What would it be like to live among strangers again? To forge new friendships? She loved her family dearly, but her whole life had revolved around them. What would it be like to have friends just for herself? Perhaps she would find out very soon.

***

“Why do you suppose we’re meeting in the drawing room this morning?”

Draco Malfoy froze at the high-pitched voice. The other residents of Notting Park usually met in the activities room, not the drawing room. Indeed, he was on his way to the drawing room now. There was a particularly comfortable armchair near the floor-to-ceiling windows that had a lovely view of the garden, and he liked to sit there with a book while the others were busy with the day’s planned activities. But upon hearing Fanny Marshall, Draco ducked instead into the first doorway he encountered, to get out of her way as quickly as possible. Just the thought of dealing with her this early in the day made his head spin.

Draco sighed as he realized his mistake. He avoided the library whenever he could. The collection of books, meager as the selection might be, prompted memories of his lost library at Malfoy Manor. Even after nearly ten years at Notting Park, just the thought of it provoked Draco’s ire like nothing else. He was contemplating ways he might revenge himself on Justine (perhaps by torturing her pet pug?) when the door opened behind him. Turning quickly around, he snapped, “What is it?”

Draco gasped in surprise as he saw who had stepped into the room. Roger Campbell, the owner of Notting Park, stood in the doorway, but Draco’s eyes were drawn to the woman standing in front of him. It had been years since he had seen her—probably since the day they had both been called to Hogwarts after their sons had engaged in a particularly nasty duel, which had left one of them wrapped in a cocoon and the other transfigured into a giant carrot. She looked different, of course—her freckles had faded, and only the barest hint of red remained in her hair—but he still recognized Ginny Weasley Potter immediately.

***

“Mrs. Potter! What an honor it is to have you visit us!” The middle-aged man who greeted Ginny at Notting Park was short and portly, with mouse-brown hair, running to gray, and an overly large nose. “Come in, come in! I’m sure you’ll love the house as much as we all do!”

“Good morning, Mr. Campbell. It is a pleasure to meet you as well,” Ginny replied quietly, with a slight smile. She was sure that not every prospective resident received such an effusive welcome from the facility’s owner himself, nor did she think most people would be given an appointment so quickly, considering Notting Park’s long waiting list. Being the widow of the most prominent figure in the wizarding world for the last century had its benefits. At times, she would prefer not to be quite so visible, but if it would help her solve her housing problem quickly, she would use her name to full advantage as often as necessary.

Roger Campbell was full of flattery, both for Notting Park and for Ginny herself, as he showed her around the house. The décor was much more lavish than anything Ginny had ever seen before: carved woodwork, painted ceilings, and antique furniture upholstered in velvet and satin. She would feel like a princess living here, she was sure. The suite that would be hers, if she chose to move into it, contained a bedroom with a large walk-in closet, a sitting room, a “kitchenette” that was nearly a complete kitchen, and the largest bathroom she had ever seen—the bathtub itself was probably bigger than the Burrow’s two bathrooms put together.

Once she had seen the suite, Mr. Campbell suggested that they meet with some of the other residents before seeing the common rooms. “Most of them are Muggle-born, you know, since most pure-bloods still stay in their own homes, though we do have a few pure-bloods who live with us for one reason or another. Some just like the company and our activities. There’s something different happening here every day! We have a nice young witch, not too long out of Hogwarts, very efficient and very creative, to plan it all. Why, I think today she’s planned an excursion to the seaside to hold a sand castle building contest. Who knows what wild idea she’ll come up with next! She’s delayed their departure a bit so you can meet everyone. I think they’re waiting for us in the drawing room. Of course, not everyone will be there. The activities are all entirely optional, and some of the residents tend not to participate—loners, you know. But that’s all well and good, too. It takes all kinds!”

Ginny gazed wide-eyed at Mr. Campbell, amazed by the speed of his monologue. She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, but luckily she didn’t have to. “Ah, here we are!” he said, opening a door and ushering her inside. “Good morning, all! I’ve brought a very special visitor to meet you this morning!”

Ginny was startled by a squeal from her left. “Ooooh! Ginny Potter!” A woman in bright pink robes flung herself in Ginny’s direction. “How exciting! I remember you from Hogwarts, of course, though I was in Hufflepuff and four years younger than you, so you probably don’t remember me. Are you going to come live with us? How much fun we’ll have if you do! I’m Fanny Marshall by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

Ginny was somewhat taken aback, but managed to shake the woman’s hand with at least a little composure. She turned to the others with some trepidation. Would they be as overbearingly welcoming as Mr. Campbell and Fanny Marshall were? If so, she might have to rethink her plan to move in.

Ginny’s fears were soon put to rest. The other residents were certainly pleased to meet her, but were more or less able to contain themselves. (Fanny was still bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.) There were even some familiar faces among the group, including Susan Bones, who Ginny remembered from Dumbledore’s Army, and Jimmy Peakes, who had played Quidditch for Gryffindor.

Soon, a woman with a brisk manner and subdued blue robes bustled into the room. She introduced herself with little fanfare as Janet Price, then with a polite, “Pardon me,” she turned to the residents. “Gather round, now, all of you! The Portkeys are set to leave in one minute,” she said. The residents obeyed immediately, reaching to touch either the empty nail polish bottle or the battered cardboard box Janet proffered. In another minute, they disappeared, leaving Ginny alone with Mr. Campbell and a welcome silence.

“Very good,” he said. “Shall we look at the other public rooms, then?” Ginny nodded her assent and followed him into the hallway.

First, he showed her the activity room, which contained several large work tables. The walls were lined with trunks overflowing with objects of every kind—Ginny could see vintage clothing, an egg beater, a beach ball, a collection of quills in various states of disrepair, an hour glass, a rubber chicken, and something that looked suspiciously like one of Fred and George’s old Vanishing Hats, and that was just on one side of the room. “Most of the activities Janet plans happen here,” Mr. Campbell explained. “Unless, of course, they happen somewhere else, like today. Or sometimes everyone goes outside.” He trailed off for a minute, leaving Ginny to wonder if he had as much trouble following his train of thought as she did. “She’s very creative! Janet, I mean. And as you can see, we give her lots to work with!”

The music room held an array of musical instruments, both magical and Muggle, including a splendid grand piano, as well as comfortable seating for spectators. “Feel free to use any of the instruments you like, though do be respectful of others’ practice times. Some of the residents are quite accomplished musically, you know. They will even hold recitals for the rest of us sometimes, and that is truly a treat! Do you play anything, Mrs. Potter?”

“No, I never learned, I’m afraid,” Ginny said, “but I love to listen. Do you think the others would object if I listened to their rehearsals?”

Mr. Campbell looked away shiftily, then answered, “Well, I’m sure I don’t know. You should probably ask them individually.” He coughed awkwardly.

Ginny wondered at his response. Up until now, Mr. Campbell had seemed willing enough to speak for the residents in general, but now he had demurred. Was he thinking of a particular resident that might object? Before she could think more about the subject, however, Mr. Campbell swept her into the hallway, and opened the opposite door.

Ginny stepped into the room and stopped short. It was clearly a library, considering the book-lined shelves, but Ginny’s attention was drawn to the man standing in the middle of the room, who immediately turned to them, saying abruptly, “What do you want?”

He was tall and thin, but leaned heavily on a serpent-headed cane. He was nearly bald, but even without white-blond hair, Ginny recognized his aristocratically pointed nose and chin. “Malfoy!” she said, before she could stop herself.

Mr. Campbell stiffened next to Ginny, and after a moment, said, “Er… Yes. Erm, Mrs. Potter and I were just touring the house, Mr. Malfoy. She is considering taking up Mrs. Scofield’s suite.” Draco’s only response was to look speculatively at Ginny, one eyebrow raised.

“The library here is lovely, is it not, Mr. Malfoy?” Mr. Campbell prompted. “Almost as grand as the one at Hogwarts!”

Draco rolled his eyes, and Ginny hid a smile. She could picture him derisively imitating the other man, as he had done at Hogwarts. Instead, he answered stiffly, “It is adequate, I suppose.” He paused, then added, “But it is not as nearly as similar to Hogwarts’ library as the drawing room can be to a Hogwarts common room.”

“Erm, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Mr. Campbell said nervously, clearly not sure whether Draco was praising Notting Park or insulting it. Ginny was fairly sure the latter was the case, but was slightly confused by Draco’s comparison of the house to Hogwarts.

Draco then turned to Ginny. “I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Potter. I am in a particularly foul mood this morning, and as such, I must beg you to excuse me.” He swept by her, and out into the hallway, but as he passed, she thought she heard him mutter, “The Hufflepuff common room!”

When he had gone, Mr. Campbell showed her the rest of the public rooms, but Ginny was hard pressed to remember them afterwards. She was trying to understand why Draco Malfoy might live at Notting Park, and just how much he might have changed since Hogwarts. After his initial outburst, he had actually been polite.