Chapter Text
22 August 2003
A crystalline laugh, heard above all others, rose in the middle of the noisy room filled with guests. Waiters gracefully weaved in and out of all these chic people, handing out another glass of wine to the diamond-studded women, or another hors d’oeuvre to the proud men. An orchestra echoed its musical notes against the walls of the cheerful room. On the right, two cups were clinked together, toasting to some honour. A little further on, a group of people laughed at the joke of an influential politician. At the entrance, newcomers admired the grandeur of the room and its elegance as they passed through the double doors.
Draco Malfoy watched the festivities with jaded eyes as he brought a glass of wine to his lips. He took a small sip and raised an eyebrow over its quality. If his knowledge was correct, (and it usually was), the red liquor he was now swirling at the bottom of his glass seemed to originate from Catalonia. Slightly full-bodied and about twenty years old, probably. Obviously, on occasions such as this one, they weren’t going to be serving just anything.
An old lady, wearing jewellery that must’ve been worth just as much as the entirety of Hogwarts, walked by and gave him a polite nod and a reserved smile. Draco barely responded to her greeting, choosing instead to turn his attention back to the room and its occupants.
It was always the same with these rich people; the alcohol, the parties, the dresses, the money. And in a few weeks they would raise more money to throw more pointless parties, distribute more alcohol, and buy more dresses. And in a few more weeks, they would throw even more parties to bring in more money and-
“Draco.”
Draco snapped out of this trance, and slowly looked down at the person who had just called his name.
Astoria Greengrass was dressed in a long red chiffon dress, with thin straps, and a soft silk shawl that covered her slender arms. Her black, curly hair fell gently over her shoulders and the pearl necklace he had given her two months earlier discreetly adorned her neck. His fiancée was terribly beautiful, there was zero doubts about that.
Astoria approached him and slipped an arm under his. She pulled him to the right side of the room and softly said, “Come, I have to introduce you to someone.”
He barely restrained himself from sighing, but his annoyed tone betrayed him. “Who is it now?”
His fiancée glared at him as her face hardened.
“Be nice, will you? He’s a very important figure in my firm. Don't embarrass me," she said curtly.
“Miss Greengrass!" Astoria and Draco heard behind them.
A paunchy man in a green hemp dress approached them, a huge smile on his face. The beginning of his baldness made the front of his forehead shine and every one of his steps seemed to cost a painful effort to his too fat legs. When the person now standing beside Astoria became clearer to the newcomer, his face lit up.
“Mr. Malfoy!" The man held out his hand out in front of him, offering it to Draco. “What a pleasure to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you!”
Draco looked down at the chubby fingers extended toward him -a second too long, perhaps- but finally grasped them. He offered a vigorous handshake and smiled weakly.
“Draco, this is Floribert Mcdougall, my superior at work," Astoria introduced, giving her fiancé a hard look to remind him to behave properly.
"Good evening Sir, nice to meet you too," Draco said politely.
The plump man emitted a gruff laugh and chased Draco's words with his hand, as if he had said something stupid. “So polite! So polite! Please, young man, call me Floribert!”
“Well, in that case, Floribert," corrected the former Slytherin, not letting go of his hypocritical smile.
Floribert seemed to appreciate this beginning of false friendship and smiled more. Astoria squeezed Draco’s arm, satisfied with what seemed to be her fiancé's first ever good impression.
“So, I've heard that you've been an apothecary for a few years, and that you're quite famous?” continued Floribert.
“Yes, for three years now," answered Draco, already bored by this soulless business conversation.
“Oh, a very interesting job, isn't it?”
“It is, for me at least.”
“I hope so, I hope so, my boy! And things are still going well?”
Things were indeed going very well, for Draco didn’t see only rich and pretentious wizards.
“Things are going very well, thank you," Draco replied. “How about you? I read about your firm's latest case. It was quite surprising.”
Floribert got a renewed energy at the mention of this famous case and started to blather on about their last deal using terms that were a little too technical for the apothecary. The latter hadn’t read any cases. He just knew that they were always "big".
Draco nodded from time to time to whatever the man in front of him was saying, and Astoria, suddenly animated by this old case, joined in on the conversation. The young blond listened to them for a while, but once again, he felt far from this world. His conscience eventually joined the too bright lights of the big room.
He fucking hated these events.
He'd turned the kid down, but on second thought, he would’ve preferred to spend his evening playing Exploding Snap with Joshua…
Seeing that Astoria and Floribert were too absorbed in their conversation, the former Slytherin allowed himself a glance at the rest of the guests. The laughter was getting louder around him as the alcohol started to take effect.
A red head caught his attention. The man’s back was facing Draco, and he was wearing a lovely black robe. The redhead turned his head slightly and Draco immediately recognized which of the Weasleys was standing further ahead; it was the youngest boy, Ronald. He had rather grown up since Hogwarts and the pictures in The Daily Prophet hadn’t lied about his imposing build and his now more mature face. Draco looked around at the other people accompanying Ron. Did his presence imply that He too was here?
Draco saw Him, just to Ron's right, as the latter moved slightly. Harry Potter, with a fresh and respectful look, as always, was speaking to the Foreign Secretary that was standing beside him. The Savior of the World was wearing an elegant burgundy robe and his hair was neatly styled in a controlled unruliness.
Suddenly, deep green irises attacked Draco. The room abruptly seemed silent and the unpleasant sensation of being caught in a long, empty tunnel gripped the former Slytherin. Potter had turned his head towards him and was looking at him, without any emotion, simply from a distance. The visual contact lasted unnecessarily, but Draco didn’t have the courage to end it.
The Chosen One finally nodded quietly in a brief greeting and turned his head away to resume his previous conversation with his neighbor, as if nothing had happened.
Potter.
Potter, of course...
No, the Golden Trio and their circle. Of course they were invited to these kinds of events. Where would they all be if they started snubbing the people who had saved the world?
“Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco turned his head brusquely.
Astoria was glaring at him because of his inattention, and a slight look of concern was painted on Floribert's face. The apothecary ignored his fiancée and made a pleasant smile to her superior:
“Forgive me, I was a little distracted. You were saying?”
.
Behind a wall in the Weasleys' kitchen, two shadows stood hidden as they watched their surroundings carefully; Molly was approaching carelessly, intending to heat up the dinner she’d prepared earlier in the evening. When the larger shadow saw their next victim appear, he crouched slightly to get to the level of the second smaller shadow and said softly:
“Subject at nine o'clock. Do you copy, Agent Teddy?”
The little boy - with blond hair this day - covered his mouth with his hands, his eyes shining with excitement. He spread his fingers slightly and approached the second shadow. “Regent.”
"Roger." George corrected in a whisper.
"Roger." the blond boy repeated, nodding his head.
George smiled and pointed to his mother who was getting dangerously close to the weapon of the day. Unaware of their presence, Molly put on a flowery apron left on a chair of the small kitchen table, and tied her hair in a bun. She mumbled for a few seconds about the dessert she might make the next evening and walked over to the stove, rolling up her sleeves. George and Teddy held their breath, a wicked smile painted on both of their lips.
Three large pots stood over the Weasleys' large stove. Most of Molly's children had left the house, but since "there was no one who cooked better than Mum," (that's what Teddy had heard them say a few times, anyway) it wasn't uncommon for them to decide to come over and enjoy her dishes.
Molly opened the oven and checked its temperature. Then, finally, she lifted the lid on the first pot in front of her.
The woman screamed as a multitude of confetti, fireworks and bent paper exploded in her face and flew into the air singing loudly:
"Mamaaaa!
Don't make us pizza!
Don't make us pasta!
Don't make us polenta!
Langoustaa!
Langoustaa!
Langoustaa! "
“GEORGE WEASLEY! TEDDY POTTER!" shouted Molly, casting spells around her to silence the confetti and paper shards, which were still singing.
Instead of repenting, Teddy burst out laughing. A joyful laugh that flew through the house with its lightness.
Molly - who quickly found their hiding place - appeared, furious, and put her hands on her hips, red in the face with anger. George laughed at her expression and shielded Teddy with his arm; “Agent Teddy! We've been detected, sound the alarm! Mayday! Mayday!”
His mother glared at him and pointed at the two culprits. “You two are going to clean up everything, and that WITHOUT wands! Do I make myself clear? And don't copy that little rascal, Teddy!”
Teddy and George were still giggling, especially since the remaining confetti had not finished singing their song.
“Sorry Nana," the blonde child managed to say.
At the nickname, Molly's face softened and she simply shook her head. George had once told him that when they got into trouble for their pranks, calling Molly "Nana" by Teddy could calm her down, and it certainly seemed to work.
Suddenly, the front door of the house slammed. Teddy leapt to his feet and ran out of the kitchen. He crossed the huge dining room, passed the bay window that led to the courtyard outside and reached the lobby.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had just walked through the front door, all still wearing their evening robes. Teddy didn't wait for the three adults to notice him before making one of his famous "hug attacks" on his adoptive father. He took his momentum, and with absolute confidence, he jumped.
.
Taking his son to the hospital because of a rough hug would certainly not look good for him, so Harry always managed to catch Teddy when he was greeted in a somewhat too jovial manner. Even if the Auror sometimes ended up on the floor with the kid.
Harry intercepted the little boy with skill, as his two best friends smiled.
“Hmph!" huffed Harry as he took Teddy in his arms. “You know you're getting too heavy for this?”
Teddy nodded seriously, as if it was an obvious fact, and climbed down from his arms to greet his father's best friends. Hermione smiled at him and Ron affectionately ruffled his hair.
“I'm hungry, there’s anything to eat?” asked Ron.
The kid nodded again. Without a word, he took Ron's hand and led him down the hall. Hermione and Harry followed, and when they entered the Weasleys' kitchen, Molly was busy with pots and pans, and George was carrying a broom, in the middle of hundreds of confetti and papers on the floor. He gave them a knowing wink, which they all understood as the result of a recent prank.
Teddy disappeared behind a pantry on the right and emerged a moment later with a broom and shovel in hand as well. He squatted on the floor and set about helping George clean up the mess, and Harry figured out that Teddy must’ve been an accomplice.
“Back already?" inquired George, leaning on his broom as the three friends made their way to the kitchen table after greeting Molly.
The two men collapsed into their seats, while Hermione sat down a little more elegantly. Harry then untied his silk scarf with a weary gesture.
“Or more like, ‘why did you stay so long?’ he grumbled. “I'd forgotten why we never go to those kinds of parties.”
“Who was there?" asked Molly as she placed dishes in the middle of the table before smacking the back of George's head for letting Teddy pick up their mess by himself.
Ron was the first to help himself. He grabbed a plate without waiting for the others and dug into the hot potatoes, beef and vegetables in front of him. Hermione and Harry followed suit.
“There were several ministers, Quidditch players, some actresses, and people like McDougall, Malfoy, Davidson and other pretentious people,” said Ron with his mouth full.
“McDougall, that guy is such an asshole," George said, massaging the back of his head and ignoring his mother's disapproving look over his bad language. “He's the one who almost put Stan in jail, remember?”
Maybe he was an asshole or just a really good lawyer. Charles Stan, an old acquaintance of George's, was a botanist who had seriously injured Kevin Muray when the latter broke into his store at night to steal his possessions. Not expecting to see the owner on the premises, the thief had attacked him. But Stan, who had always been very good at spells, had fought back hard with some particularly shady spells, and the criminal was now left with two crippled legs and one missing eye. It was indeed a sad fate for Muray, but he had no business robbing a store. It was thought that the court's decision would be easy.
Muray had, however, chosen McDougall as his lawyer.
As a result, Muray had earned much more than if he had stolen that botanical store. 4,000 galleons for the 2-year treatment of his legs, plus a compensation of 800 galleons.
“We remember very well," Hermione replied bitterly, cutting the beef from her dish. “He spent the evening chatting with Astoria Greengrass, from the same private firm as him.”
George looked up at the name. “Greengrass? Malfoy's fiancée?”
“The very same," Ron answered with a sigh. “She's been a lawyer for a couple of years and is now starting to get involved in the big trials.”
Teddy, who was always so discreet that his presence was easily forgotten, got up and went to throw the confetti in the garbage can by the wall. He put the broom and shovel back in the pantry and returned to sit with the adults to listen to their conversation. Molly gave him a smile of thanks and turned her attention back to the young adults eating. “The young Malfoy? You probably haven't seen him in a while. Did you talk to him?”
“I wanted to, but two mule-headed guys didn't want to enter 'enemy territory'," Hermione replied, giving the two culprits a reproachful look.
“And what did you want us to say to him, huh?” Ron replied, “ ‘Hi Malfoy, we’ve hated each other to death for almost seven years and you tried to kill us two or three times during the war before you decided to switch sides on a whim, but let's forget about it. So, how's your dead father and your runaway mother'?”
“Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, while George and Harry snickered, “Come on, he never actually tried to kill us and you know it! And his mother isn’t actually on the run, she just moved to France.”
“It's basically the same thing. She's running away from the reality over here.”
“You don't know her story, so don't judge her. And I'll point out that she's a war hero and if it weren't for her, no one would be sitting here.”
This truth hung in the air in the kitchen. No one was laughing anymore.
Mrs. Malfoy's trial hadn’t been simple. Many wanted to incarcerate her for supporting the Dark Lord's activities, but she had saved the life of The Boy Who Lived. Besides, she didn't have the Dark Mark, so she couldn't receive the death penalty anyway. But should a criminal be cleared because she had done one good deed?
It had only taken a curt statement and a glare from Harry Potter to strongly advise them that yes, the jury had better to clear her. Harry hated to use his popularity. But to keep people who had helped save the world from going to jail, he was going to use it without thinking twice.
This war had been so unfair; he didn’t want that same unfairness to be reflected on brave people like how Narcissa Malfoy had been. Even if she hadn’t betrayed her master for the sake of humanity. Even if her action had been only for her son...Even if Mrs. Malfoy was not...
Harry's hands began to shake. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself, but to no avail.
The shaking became more violent, and a headache seized him so suddenly that he thought his brain would explode. The Auror contracted his jaw as his heart followed in his torment. Had he known, he would have gone straight home to get his potion, instead of losing control in front of everyone like that.
“Ha...Harry?” he heard.
He opened his eyes with difficulty. Everyone was looking at him with a worried expression. Teddy's burdened face, from seeing him like this, hurt Harry the most. The Auror offered them a weak, uncertain smile, before getting up, ready to leave the place.
He didn’t want one of his ... episodes to be repeated in front of others again. Especially not in front of his son.
“I am sorry, take care of Teddy for me,” Harry declared with a trembling voice.
And before anyone could protest, he left the kitchen and disappeared as soon as he reached an area where he could apparate from.