Chapter Twenty-three: Nothing Left To Hold To

Playlist Ch. 23: ‘Running Up That Hill’ by Placebo

Rose didn’t know what was worse, knowing that Lily was planning to runaway in only three days time or finally catching sight of her parents on the platform, her mother’s arms crossed over her chest in obvious disgruntlement and her father’s weary roll of his eyes. Breathing a deep sigh and tugging her steamer trunk behind her, Rose was only marginally mollified when her father finally caught sight of her, his expression immediately brightening.

She gave him a tentative wave back and before she knew it, her dad was crossing towards her through the crowd, a look of great relief on his face before he slung an arm around her shoulders and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Oy, Rosie, thank God you’re back!” he exclaimed, quickly shooting a glance over his shoulder and then ducking low to lower his voice. “Your mum is driving me crazy,” he said, his eyes just wide enough that Rose only thought he looked crazy.

Rose only forced a small smile. She glanced back over his shoulder, her expression faltering upon seeing that he was right. Her mum certainly did look to be in quite the snit, her narrowed brown eyes flitting glaringly back to where the Potter family stood only a few feet away. Rose saw her mother and Lily’s mum make eye-contact and then both quickly looked away, the color rising in her aunt Ginny’s cheeks.

A silent witness to the scene, Rose felt her shoulders deflate, wondering how on earth she would get the chance to talk some sense into Lily when her mum seemed so furious with her aunt. A feeling of enormous guilt flared up inside of her remembering that day in the hospital wing, the things she’d said all before her mother’s watchful eyes.

“Oh, God, this is going to be impossible,” she sighed.

Ron smiled weakly down at her, giving her a good encouraging shake. “Ah, it won’t be that bad, Rosie,” he reassured her. “Your mum’s been scaring me for more than thirty years now and I’m still alright!”

Rose cast her father a withering glance, one eyebrow raised, almost disbelievingly so.

He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes still bright with amusement as he dipped his head. “Point taken,” he said. “Now let me get that trunk for you and we’ll get out of here.”

Rose allowed her dad to take the trunk from her, her fingers releasing the handle only to ball back into a tight fist once more. Staring uncertainly after her father’s retreating footsteps, Rose finally found her voice, struggling to know what to say. “Hey, Dad?” she called in a small voice.

Her father turned back to her, his eyebrows rising in question. “What is it, Rosie?”

Rose opened her mouth but no words came out. She wanted to tell him everything, about the semester and Lily and Scorpius and everything she still had to do to ensure Lily didn’t leave, but somehow she couldn’t say anything, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s nothing. I must have just forgotten. I’m just glad to be home,” she lied, smiling weakly up at him.

“I’m glad you’re back too.” He grinned, ruffling her hair fondly. “And don’t you worry about your mum. It’s summer and it’s sure to be a lot easier than school has been.”

Rose’s smile faltered at that, wondering at the irony of it all. From what she could tell, the summer was going to be a lot harder in these first few days than anything had been all semester.

“Yeah,” she agreed tonelessly, “I’m sure you’re right, Dad.”

Ron nodded and jerked his head back, the two of them finally making their way back to the end of the platform and where Rose’s mother stood, still tapping her foot impatiently.

Lightly clearing her throat, Rose averted her eyes from her mother’s, scanning the crowd for even a glimpse of Lily and she got just that, a flash of her cousin’s red hair just as she slipped through the platform. Sighing deeply, Rose wondered if Lily would just as easily slip out the window when she tried to leave England.

*

Lily slid into the small car, rolling her eyes as Albus elbowed her further away from the door so that he could take her seat. She glared straight back at him but bit her tongue at a single glance from him. He knew too much and it was in part thanks to her that he had spent the last several weeks in detention with Hugo, never mind that Lily had been serving detentions for just as long, though hers had been… more enjoyable with Scorpius for company.

Even thinking about him, Lily felt her cheeks flush scarlet and quickly stared out her own window, her unspoken truce with Albus still hanging there between them.

Her parents noticed nothing in her behavior, her father staring out at the traffic ahead, his brow furrowed and his mouth a thin line. Her mother only stared out the window, arms still crossed over herself to ward off the unnatural chill that never seemed to leave her.

*

Apparating straight from the station to the front lawns of Malfoy Manor, Scorpius’s feet slammed hard into the ground. Glancing up to the big house on the hill, he immediately felt his shoulders relax, recognizing the very feel of being home. Throwing a grin back over his shoulder, Scorpius started up the sloping lawns, his father and grandfather behind him, the early summer breeze wafting around them. Scorpius lengthened his stride, wanting nothing more than to open that front door and be home again.

Moving up the Manor’s porch steps, Scorpius reached for the handle, casting a glance back at his grandfather who nodded encouragingly. Draco trailed after them both, his grey eyes strangely distant.

Pushing the door open at the same time that it was pulled back from him, Scorpius saw his grandmother on the other side, smiling broadly at her grandson. “There he is!” she cried in delight, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. He returned her hug, grinning past her to where his mother stood just behind them, barely holding back a grin of her own.

He was home finally. Grinning at his mum and swiftly kissing his grandmother’s cheek, Scorpius moved into the house, giving his mother a hug as well and taking in the sight of all the elaborate decorations tracing a path from the foyer to the parlor room further into the house’s interior. All this was for him, he thought, unable to keep from smiling.

“Oh, come in, come in!” his mother insisted, seizing her son’s hand and beckoning him inside, her eyes bright with tears. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, dear!” she cried, kissing both his cheeks. “Now come in, you’ve got to tell us everything of your year!”

“Everything?” Scorpius chuckled, already having decided not to share quite everything. His mother didn’t even notice his thin smile, simply nodding up and down expectantly. “Yes, I want to hear all of it!” she said.

Scorpius ran a hand through his hair, letting out a small sigh of breath as his mind raced backwards. Where to start? he thought wonderingly.

*

“So, what have you been up to Rose?” Ron asked around a mouthful of steak, finally swallowing and staring at his daughter expectantly.

“Erm, well…” Rose began when her mum cut her off unexpectedly.

“I do hope you haven’t been hanging around with that Scorpius Malfoy,” Hermione said thinly, staring down at her plate as she meticulously cut into her own steak. “He’s a bad influence, that boy. Unsurprising with who his father is. It’s a shame the ways he’s negatively affected… friends of yours.”

Hermione finally glanced up from her plate, seeing her daughter’s stony-faced expression. Ron watched them both with questioning, narrowed eyes while Hugo said nothing.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” Ron asked, directing a pointed look at his wife.

Hermione merely shrugged her shoulders, cutting into her steak once more. “Not really. Rose just has some friends at school that aren’t quite living up to the manner in which they were raised. I suppose it would be their parents’ fault, too,”she stated oh so casually.

“Now Mum, did you mean parents singular or plural?” Rose asked inquisitively, staring across the table and meeting her mum’s eyes with a flash of anger. “Because it seems to me that you weren’t quite as specific as you meant to be. Are you blaming her upbringing in general or just one of her parents?”

Rose’s glare never once wavered as she held her mother’s gaze, watching as her mum lightly cleared her throat, clearly about to put her in her place or make some other thinly veiled insult against Lily and her mum. Hermione reached for a napkin and lightly wiped the corner of her mouth before answering, her voice still that calm, evenly-measured tone that Rose had learned to associate with as the beginnings of a mother-daughter fight. Her father seemed to realize it too, his fingers clenched around his steak knife and fork as he struggled to swallow fast enough to stop them.

“I’m simply pointing out that her moral upbringing seems to be lacking. You can derive your own conclusions as to whether its her manipulative mother’s influence that seems to be the cause or not.”

“Alright then, enough of that,” Ron cleared his throat. “Let’s just change the subject shall we? How about Lily, Rose? How’s she doing? I know you two had some sort of fight earlier in the semester…”

“Lily’s just fine,” Rose bit out, carefully avoiding meeting her mother’s eyes, still trying to contain her frustration with her mum. “We had a row a few weeks back, I suppose, but everything’s fine now. In fact, Dad, I was wondering if I could stop by to see her tonight? I mostly slept on the train back and wanted to spend some time with her right after dinner if I could.”

“Well, are you sure, Rose? It’s nearly dark out and…”

“And I could take the Knight Bus!” Rose suggested, trying desperately to let her father see the urgency in her expression, trying to help him realize she needed his permission or her mum would never let her…

“Your father’s right, Rose,” Hermione cut in. “It’s too late and you just got home. You ought to be spending tonight with your family.”

“Technically speaking, Lily is family.” Rose pointed out and Ron coughed on his mouthful of food, chuckling slightly.

“She’s got a point, Mione,” he laughed.

“Don’t be stupid, Ron, you already said it’s dark out. She can ask permission some other time,” her mum cut in, Ron’s humor all but evaporating as he returned to his meal, wordlessly shrugging towards his daughter, the fight lost.

Rose’s face fell, her shoulders slumping as she gave up. It hadn’t escaped her notice that her mum hadn’t said she could go another time but that she could ask permission another time. From the looks of things, she was going to have to find a way to get to Lily’s on her own.

Seemingly satisfied with the conclusion of their conversation, Hermione turned to her son and asked, “Now how was your year, Hugo?”

*

Following his family into the parlor, Draco immediately took steps to withdraw himself from them, easily stepping around his wife after a small peck on the cheek, no more than an unfelt welcome kiss. Moving towards the sideboard, Draco took up a glass tumbler and filled it to the brim with the hardest liquor on hand, taking a sip as he traced his steps back towards the glowing hearth cut into the far wall.

As his family shared and sat behind him, Draco could only stare down into the flickering flames, grey eyes never wavering as his thoughts raced back, lingering on such similar scarlet tendrils of flame, framing a pale and freckled heart-shaped face.

*

Sighing wearily and finally able to glance upwards to meet the mirror’s cold reflection, Ginny couldn’t even summon the strength to criticize her pale and sleep-deprived appearance. She didn’t need to look any closer to clearly see the dark shadows under her eyes, the worn wrinkles that seemed to etch themselves across her forehead. When was the last time she’d slept all through the night, she wondered.

In the mirror’s reflection, she could see the empty bed behind her. Harry was still sleeping in the James’ old room where he had moved in ever since that night all those weeks ago that Ginny had come home after seeing Draco. They hadn’t slept in the same bed in nearly two months. They hadn’t eaten a meal together in so long that Ginny had actually been surprised when Harry sat down in his usual seat when they had dinner that night with the children back from school. The idea of telling their children, though present, was simply ignored, keeping up the pretense that their marriage was just fine. In all reality though, their marriage, according to all the usual signs, was falling apart and was only just avoiding collapse.

Unable to even muster a sigh, Ginny extinguished the lamp with a flick of her wand. Turning back to the bed, she pulled back the covers, slipping under the blankets and cradling her hands to her chest, searching for any form of warmth that she hadn’t felt in weeks.

Lying there in the darkness, the only one in the queen-sized bed, Ginny felt cold. As that cold traveled up her body, chilling her to the bone, she began to feel tears pricking her vision, distorting anything the darkness hadn’t already concealed from her sight. Tears now rolling silently down her cheeks, Ginny turned her body and pressed her face against the pillow, muffling the only cry she made as her lungs collapsed, all the air leaving her body in one desperate rush.

*

Sighing contentedly, Lucius sat back in the dark armchair beside his grandson, wordlessly handing him a freshly poured tumbler of the hardest liquor on hand. Scorpius’ lips twitched upwards in realization, sending his grandfather a dubious look and glanced across the room towards his mother, busy in conversation with Narcissa.

Lucius shook his head, dipping his chin once to indicate that Scorpius ought to take a sip, which after a steadying breath, he did and it burned.

Coughing slightly, Scorpius nearly gagged, turned away and coughing into the sleeve of his robes.

Both his mother and grandmother turned towards him in an instant, identical expressions of concern on both their faces.

“Dear, are you alright?”

“Are you sick?”

“He’s fine,” Lucius assured, clapping his grandson fondly on the shoulder, already having charmed his glass invisible to the two women.

Once the reassured women turned away, Scorpius stared at his grandfather and then his glass, his eyebrows rising and steadily climbing towards his hairline. “Charmed it, didn’t you?” he choked once more.

His grandfather only smiled slightly, taking a long swig of his own drink and muttering to himself. “Yours’ isn’t the only one. Living with your grandmother as long as I have has taught me to leave my habits and her disapproval of them well enough alone. You can’t be upset by what you never see or perceive,” he said sagely.

“Great advice that,” Scorpius chuckled. “Grand-dad of the year, you are.”

“Quite,” Lucius nodded, proudly taking a sip of his drink once more. “Now I’ve been informed by your parents that you are intending to take some time off to visit the continent this summer.”

Scorpius nodded, a grin already blossoming over his face, though not from the usual boyish excitement but from the escape from his own life that was just within arm’s reach, a morbid dream within his sights. And Lily would be with him…

“Sure am,” he nodded.

“And your girlfriend? How will she be handling that?” he asked curiously, peering over the rim of his glass at Scorpius.

Scorpius nearly choked at that. “My girlfriend?” he asked.

Lucius raised a single eyebrow. “I had assumed she was such after seeing the way you quite publically showed your affection for her this afternoon at the station.”

Scorpius’ cheeks colored and he quickly looked away, voice constricting slightly in his throat. “Erm, yeah, I, uh, that is, she is, my girlfriend, I mean.”

“And her family? What’s her surname?” Lucius inquired, clearly enjoying his grandson’s discomfort.

“Potter,” Scorpius cleared his throat slightly. “Lily Potter.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “Harry Potter’s daughter?” he asked carefully.

“Erm, yeah, that’s the one,” Scorpius nodded, quickly swallowing half his glass’ contents.

“I see. And you aren’t at all worried that she might run off with some other boy while you’re gone? Or that you might find some other girl?” he grinned.

Scorpius grinned smugly back, beaming inside though he didn’t let his grandfather see just how much. “Not worried at all,” he declared, leaning back in his chair.

His grandfather surveyed him for a full minute but then nodded approvingly.

“It’s good for a young man to be on his own, learn about himself without all his mother’s coddling. Your own father moved out only weeks after his own graduation, though I suppose the circumstances were far more necessary if he were to escape the bad press,” he amended quietly to himself. “I never did find out where he was staying during that time. Hardly saw him those days, but it certainly made him who he is today. I can tell you that.”

Scorpius fell silent, glancing past his grandfather and taking in the sight of his father, withdrawn and staring deeply into the flames flickering in the hearth like tongues of fire leaping steadily upwards. It seemed so wrong to him, sitting there and knowing exactly where his father had been staying all those months he was away from home. Because Scorpius knew that that was the time when his dad had met Lily’s mum.

Feeling a surge of protection for his mother, Scorpius felt his anger rise, wishing he could forget what Lily had told him while dancing at the dinner party months ago. He wished it had never even happened.

Shaking his head, still silent, Scorpius took a much longer swallow of his drink, letting the burning sensation comfort him. Three days, two now that it was nearly midnight… He could last that long, he was sure.

*

The flames reached higher, almost dancing it seemed, taunting him with half-formed memories and haunting realities of that last morning they’d had.

Draco remembered Ginny smiling encouragingly up at him, her fingers deftly straightening his tie that he had somehow managed to fumble tying. She teased him and he teased her back, demanding her to be a good homemaker and have an enormous stack of blueberry pancakes for him when he got back from the trial, when everything would be okay and nothing would be standing between them at all anymore. She swatted at him, rolling her eyes and he pulled her fast against him, his lips capturing hers and stealing the breath from her body.

Their kiss finally broke, Ginny swaying just slightly, her warm brown eyes bright behind half-closed lids. “I love you,” she murmured.

He kissed her again and somehow finally tore himself away, joking with still rather red cheeks about his father’s trial and being late for being in love with a Weasley. She only laughed back, waving him off, promising she’d still be there when he returned.

He left.

Taking a large swallow of his drink, Draco stared bitterly down into the flames. He remembered this part. He’d never forgotten that last morning he’d had with her, before he’d come home to an emptied out apartment, Ginny in tears and shaking when he tried to console her, to encourage her to tell him what had happened, but she hadn’t told him, not everything. She said she was leaving him certainly, but her reason? He hadn’t had a clue till now, Draco thought, his hatred swirling behind dark grey eyes, forming the image of a man he wanted nothing more than to strangle with his bare hands.

The memories came faster, no longer his own or anyone else’s for that matter. They were simply strips of blame, accusation, and anger against the man who had ruined his life, stolen Ginny from him and done it all with that innocent smile of his.

Draco imagined an unsuspecting Ginny walking straight into Harry, not seeing him lurking in the shadows. He imagined Harry seizing her wrists, hurting her, because only threatening to hurt her would have made her leave him. No. He shook his head, trying to clear the haze in his thoughts. No. Ginny was stronger than that and Potter would have never hurt her, never touched her like that.

He shook his head again, jerking himself out of the dark thoughts that seemed to consume him. He couldn’t just stand here like this, picturing every detail of what had happened knowing only a few himself. Potter hadn’t threatened her, that he was sure of. Draco remembered the anger that had flared up inside of him at King’s Cross, a truth he couldn’t explain finally fitting itself into place in his memories. Only now he had to examine it more closely and imagining reasons for killing Potter was not helping him.

He must have found her right after Draco had left for the trial. He must have come to the apartment, Draco thought. Potter had asked her again, like he had several times already, when would she be ready for him? Ready to try again?

Ginny would have been unsure, confused as always, withdrawing herself from him and encouraging him to leave, to leave her and get to the trial to testify, and Potter would have realized what leverage he did have, leverage right in front of him.

He’d tell her to choose him, right then and there without any chance of changing her mind later, in exchange for Draco’s father’s freedom. She could turn him down and feel the guilt of ripping Draco’s father away from him or agree to what he was saying, agree and pack her things.

Draco clenched his jaw, glaring down into the flames, crackling like small fiery whips in the hearth. He imagined what Ginny must have thought, the sickness she must have felt in trying to decide, choosing to leave him rather than hurt him, not realizing her abandonment would nearly kill him. Draco remembered the tears falling down her cheeks, the way she had frantically ran from him, trying to escape his closeness, his demands to know what she was doing, what she was thinking.

He remembered her tears, her trembling, her desperation to escape his hold on her shoulders, to escape from their life together as intact as she could be, the shards of who they were falling around them like broken glass, never to be repaired.

Nearly losing his mind, Draco leaned heavily against the mantle, resting his forehead against the smooth dark cherry wood and releasing a long-held breath. His fingers clenched into fists, his anger and anguish ripped through his chest, tearing holes in his heart and his lungs, constricting his ability to breathe and think.

He could see her. He could still feel the weight of her supported by his arms when she’d crumpled into tears in the hospital wing only a few months ago, still as destroyed and broken as he. Draco remembered holding her, desperately wanting to Disapparate with her but instead fiercely commanding her to go back home, to stop making a scene. He hadn’t realized then who he was telling her to return to, and in hindsight, was it any wonder she had turned up outside his office door only the next morning? Even then, as she had paced around his office, he had expected her to tell him why, to tell him how she could have ever left him but she hadn’t, and he had shut her down, refusing to allow her to continue to destroy him. Draco had never known how frailly she was being held together, that at any moment she could break. He felt little different from her now.

There was a buzz of dying conversations behind him and Draco glanced blearily over his shoulder, seeing that his wife and his mother were leaving the parlor, retiring for the evening. Astoria swept towards him, brushing a kiss against his cheek that he didn’t feel, his body numb to everything.

Her eyebrows drawing together in concern, Astoria lifted her hand up to gently cup his cheek, turning him towards her until he finally raised his eyes to hers, his face expressionless.

Astoria’s expression faltered, her eyes staring up at him in confusion as she struggled to find her voice. “Are you alright, Draco?” she asked worryingly, staring into his void eyes.

He swallowed but did not answer except to say goodnight and his wife pulled back, wilting slightly at his dismissal. She gathered herself up, though, and left the room, unwilling to confront him further in front of the watchful eyes of their son, their son who was glaring darkly towards his father, his resolution only growing stronger.

Excusing himself, Scorpius left his grandfather and made his way towards the grand staircase, heading straight to his room to send an owl, reminding Lily to start packing before it was too late.

Hours later, Lily would receive his letter, her fingers clutched around it as she lay in bed, her eyes wide and staring in the darkness, staring at the open and still empty suitcase across the room. She tried to close her eyes and forget everything to sleep. She tried.

*

Startled by his grandson’s suddenly excusing himself, Lucius’ grey eyes following after his grandson’s retreat until he was lost from sight. Turning, he carefully scrutinized his own son’s reaction, his eyes narrowing at the utter lack of acknowledgement in Draco’s expression. In fact, his expression was hardly even present. He was simply staring into the fireplace with the deepest look of regret that Lucius had ever seen on his withdrawn face.

Carefully setting down his own tumbler beside the one he’d poured Scorpius during the small party, Lucius stood to his feet and took a few measured steps towards his son, standing just to his right.

“Quite melodramatic tonight, aren’t you, Draco?” he drawled.

His son released a heavy sigh, painfully tearing his gaze upwards towards his father’s. “What do you want, Father?” he asked tiredly.

“I am simply wondering what on earth has you so much in anguish that you cannot pay your own son the slightest attention tonight, the first he’s spent home since Easter holidays and after his final year no less.”

“Forgive me if I’m not as great a father as you,” Draco said, his irritation so lacking that his insult seemed lifeless and feeble.

Lucius didn’t so much as flinch, though his grey eyes grew a degree cooler. “I gave you what I could, Draco, which was more than any boy could ever ask for.”

Draco bitterly laughed, turning towards his father. “Yes, far more than any child would ask for. In fact I can’t think of a single boy my age who wanted to watch their mother be tortured by a madman, who wished to be forced into murdering an innocent man,” Draco spat. You’re right, Father, it was far more than any boy could have asked for.”

Lucius’ eyes grew black, his voice lowering and full of a cold fury, directed at himself or his son, he wasn’t sure. “Still so full of hateful jokes, aren’t you?” he spat. “I know and recognize my own mistakes, the ways I neglected you and even put you in harm’s way. For my own life, I have repented a thousand times over but I had certainly hoped you would have at least learned though your own experience to try and be a better father than I was to you! But Scorpius walked past you just now without a word and you didn’t even notice! Nor have you paid him the slightest attention since the train station! I had hoped you would have been there for him more! I had hoped you would give your son more attention and care than I gave you! That you would give him a better life!”

“I have given him a better life!” Draco snapped, suddenly turning on his father, his anger only building. “He has everything he will ever want and no threats of torture or imprisonment hanging over his head. You think he needs to have me around more than I am already? Just because you were never present doesn’t mean I have been the same! I have given my son everything you haven’t and he’s just as spoilt as I ever was and more! Does he look unhappy to you?” he roared, gesturing wildly, now becoming slightly unhinged. “He can be with whomever he wants, regardless of their name or social standing. He can date a bloody WEASLEY if he wants!”

There was a beat of stunned silence and Draco at once realized his mistake, as easily as he recognized the calculating dip of his father’s gaze. He took a step back, an attempt to withdraw himself. His father made the first move.

“Perhaps I am mistaken,” Lucius drawled, “but I do believe Scorpius informed me the girl was a Potter.”

“Aren’t they all the same these days?” Draco asked with feigned disinterest. He turned rigidly back to the fire, his chest aching after such a rush of words had left him, wishing he had never opened his mouth. Revealing secrets was a weakness and he had gone and lost his temper with his father, letting everything out. Whatever he hadn’t yet said would come soon. His father would not be the one to let this go.

Sure enough, he suddenly felt his father’s hand clamp down on his shoulder, the grip tight and constricting, unlike the gentle and fond clap on the back his own son received from the same man. Feeling only seventeen again, Draco let his shoulders sag with a weary sigh, knowing what was coming, what Lucius would ask and demand to know.

“You’ve been off since we left the train station, since I went to speak with that bleeding Potter and now you fail to even keep your enemies’ surnames straight in your own head. Just what is it you’re so consumed by that you’ve been staring into the flames all evening, heedless of your own family around you?”

Draco said nothing, his throat tightening though his father’s grip never loosened.

“Draco?”

He sighed, his eyelids closing wearily. “I did exactly what you wanted and gave Scorpius a better life than mine,” he sighed. “If he wants a Weasley, he can. The fact her surname is Potter is irrelevant because her mother is still a Weasley… and the only one I couldn’t be with because of you.”

His father’s grip, if possible, grew even tighter. “What are you saying, Draco?” he all but hissed.

“You asked me so many times over the years where I had been all those months after Hogwarts, and here you started by accusing me of not paying my son any attention. Did you know I heard everything? You still wonder where I had been.” He broke off, falling silent and not saying anything.

Lucius, however, did. “Where, Draco? Or should I ask with whom?”

“Diagon Alley,” Draco answered, “and with Ginny Weasley.” He took a deep breath then, continuing. “I had needed an ‘upstanding’ citizen to vouch for me in order to convince the tenant to let me stay there. I ran into her in the streets and she needed a place to go. We signed the papers that very afternoon and stayed there for eleven months.”

Draco broke off, staring morosely down into the hearth, the fire’s heat concealing his heated cheeks from Lucius’ open-mouthed surprise. For a moment neither spoke, and then Draco finally found his voice, continuing, though why he did not know. He had never wanted to tell his father, to tell anyone, but he hadn’t been able to think straight since leaving the station and now couldn’t stop himself from telling him everything.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he continued. “She left me,” he said. “The morning of your trial before the tribunal. While Potter was testifying on your behalf, she was packing her things. She had convinced him to try and release you, you know. Potter’s hardly the selfless saint you thought he was. It was all Ginny and he used it to make her leave me. Would’ve thrown your trial if she hadn’t…” Draco fell silent, feeling his heart beat painfully against his ribs.

“You’re hardly the reason we couldn’t be together, but at the same time, you’re exactly why it was impossible. You were the leverage and I’ve only realized it at the train station this morning.”

Lucius took a step back from his son, removing his hand and letting it drop to his side, hanging there uselessly. “Why of all people, are you telling me this?” he asked tiredly.

“Would you expect me to inform Astoria, or Scorpius? No, he already knows, and I imagine that’s plenty of reason why you’ve noticed my avoiding him. The truth is he’s avoiding me.” Draco chuckled coldly, his grey eyes pained and full of self-hatred in every way. He shook his head at a loss. “Everything I’ve poured myself into has been destroyed. When Ginny left me, I had no idea why. I met Astoria and tried to forget; I thought I had. I’ve raised my son to be a good man because you did the same with me. Regardless of the circumstances during the war, you never let me doubt your love for me. I gave that to Scorpius and I gave it to Astoria. I love them both but I never let go of Ginny. It had never affected them before now because it was impossible. She chose Potter. She chose him and she was just gone. Now though, she’s walked right back into my life and everything I know has all but crumpled around my feet, and to make it worse, now I finally know the truth that she never wanted to leave me.”

“What are you saying?” Lucius demanded coldly, suddenly and swiftly turning his son to look at him. “You think this truth matters? That what was determines any change in what is now? She left you. You have a family. You have a son who will slip right through your fingers if you don’t forget about your past and do your job by him. Your fate has been decided and you have been luckier than most in who you call family,” he hissed, “This girl, this woman who left you is nothing to throw your family away for!”

“But that is the point!” Draco seethed, turning on his father, his grey eyes as bright as fire in his rage and anguish. “She didn’t leave me! Don’t you see? This changes everything!”

“It changes nothing! You are a married man! You have responsibilities! Let the ghosts of your past stay right there where they belong!”

“No! No…” he trailed off, stepping back from Lucius and whirling slightly, his expression slightly unhinged and his face crumbling. “You still don’t understand. She left me for you, to keep you from being thrown into prison, to give me back my father. She did all that for me, for you as well, and you can’t even grant her the slightest concern?”

“She made her choice, if that is indeed what happened. It was years ago, Draco; it’s time you forget about it.”

“I can’t forget about it! It doesn’t feel like years to me, Father! It never has! For twenty-six years I have wondered what happened between us, how she could possibly leave me and now that I have the answer, now that I know that was never what was supposed to happen, you want me to pretend I never learned the truth at all?”

“What does the truth possibly change Draco?" Lucius asked quietly. “Would you ruin and destroy both of your lives, of your families’ lives just to relive a moment of your past?”

Draco stiffened, an iron weight collapsing over him and crushing him to death. He could scarcely breathe. Finally finding his voice, he turned pleading eyes towards his father, shrugging heavily in defeat. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Live your life, Draco, separate from hers, the way you have for twenty-six years now, and when the time comes, find a way to pay her back.”

Draco glanced up in surprise, his eyebrows knit together.

Lucius bowed his own head, unable to meet his gaze. “If what you say is true, her reason for leaving being in part my own fault, than you aren’t the only one who owes her something. I consider sparing both your marriages to be my own payment. You may discover your own way of repaying her within those boundaries.” Lucius finally raised his head, grey eyes meeting grey. “There is nothing more you can or should do.”

With a final dark gaze the likes of which only his father could direct towards him, Draco watched his father turn and leave the parlor room, his long shadow stretching out before him from the still flickering firelight. Swallowing tightly, his breathing constricted in his chest and held there, Draco stared back into the hearth, desperately wishing he had never found the truth out at all.

*

Turning the lock of her bedroom door, Rose sighed, leaning heavily against it and closing her eyes. She had escaped the rest of dinner as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to be rid of her mother’s accusing stares. Now that she was free, she was forcibly reminded again of just how difficult her task would be and felt more caged than before.

Not even meaning to, she began pacing the length of her small bedroom. There was no one who could help her. Scorpius certainly was the last option, being as he was the one convincing Lily to run off. Rose’s own parents were surely impossible if dinner was anything to judge by. And telling Lily’s mum would be the worst thing, not to mention getting in contact with any of the Potters was strictly not-allowed as of dinner that evening.

Letting out a small cry of frustration, Rose slammed her fist against her desktop, startling herself when a stack of parchments and quills tumbled in a pile to the floor. Pausing for a moment, Rose tilted her head aside slightly, her brow furrowing in spite of herself. She wondered if contacting someone outside the family would do the trick. The answer as to who, though unwanted, seemed painfully obvious.

Her decision made already, Rose brushed the lingering debris off the desk and onto the floor, seizing a fresh piece of parchment and quickly dipping her quill in the nearest ink pot, holding it hovering just millimeters above the parchment.

Staring down the tip of her inked quill at the still spotless parchment, Rose felt her hand begin to quiver, her nerves frayed from what she was about to do. She had no other solution, though, and much as she did not want to ask for his help… well, there was no one else to ask, no other way of getting a hold of Lily and shaking some sense into her.

Swallowing tightly and feeling her face burn in her lamp-lit bedroom, Rose pressed the nub of the quill against the parchment and addressed the letter, determined to follow through on sending it off despite whatever embarrassment she might feel.