Their guests had finally left, and Harry and Ginny had some time to themselves. All this 'fighting the Dark forces of evil' was just as exhausting as it had always been. Ginny was thankful for the peace and quiet their flat afforded them. Harry had convinced her to let them get a Muggle television set, and she now found herself sitting comfortably in the crook of his arm, watching a programme called Top Gun. Harry had called it a movie. It was almost over, and Ginny didn't really want to move. She was happy. Just like this.
"Does he get the girl?" she asked Harry.
"Hmmm?"
"The girl ... Charlie ... does Maverick end up with Charlie?"
"What kind of husband would I be if I took the surprise of the answer to that question away from you?"
Ginny playfully poked Harry in the side, laughing. Harry was so good to her. He appreciated that she did not 'grow up Muggle' and was not familiar with many of the things that Muggles took for granted. Things like television or DVDs. She watched as the actor in the movie pushed a coin through a slot and music began to play. She settled back into Harry's arms as Maverick's brilliant smile washed over the screen and he kissed Charlie.
* * *
Draco had a lot to think about. He looked around his flat; it was sparsely decorated and he wasn't really sure he wanted to be in such a cold, unfeeling place. He tried to picture Pansy sitting on his sofa. Her warm features seemed so out of place here. The image would not stay fixed in his mind. In his mind's eye, the surroundings would always change to a much warmer, albeit darker, setting. Pacing through the flat, he realized that he had not brought many personal items to his living quarters. He started piling his few belongings together. As he picked up his wand to shrink everything into his pocket, he felt an incredible emptiness wash over him. He slumped onto his bed, with his head in his hands. What am I doing? he wondered.
Resolutely, he picked up his things, scribbled a note to his landlord explaining that he was vacating the premises, dropped it on the counter along with his key, and walked out the door, not bothering to shut it. As he passed the foyer the name plate caught his eye: Floyd A. Croam. He raised his wand and muttered, "Incendio," leaving a charred spot on the directory board. As he walked down the street, it was almost as if the grey cloudiness was breaking up with each step he took. By the time he reached the alley across from The Stout Yard, the sun was actually shining. He took this to be a sign of good things to come. It was a strange feeling; anticipating good things was never something Draco had been used to. Nevertheless, he turned down the alley, and, making sure no one was watching, he Disapparated away.
* * *
From under a tree, a figure watched as a blond man appeared out of thin air. The wrought-iron gate that had been shut for so long rattled at his appearance. The figure remained hidden, watching. The gates had opened for no-one for quite some time. Would they open today? The hidden person watched the man walk towards the gates, the expected swagger nowhere in sight. But, as if the gates could sense his approach, they seemed to dematerialize, as if they had never been there. He walked through, and the gates reappeared, but now they were open.
The woman watching from under the tree felt her breath catch in her throat, and tears began to sting the corners of her eyes. Quickly she wiped her eyes and pulled herself together. Pansy Parkinson was not a woman to show weakness. Quietly, she followed Draco onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. No-one would have been able to open the gates but a Malfoy. And he had refused to return here since embarking on his vendetta against Harry Potter. Now that he had returned, and Pansy hoped he could find some peace and solace. The house-elves had kept themselves busy since he had left, and the grounds were immaculate. Pansy quietly stole to the steps of the house and sat. She wanted to give Draco some time. She had a feeling he was going to visit the memorial stones of his parents.
She watched from the steps as he walked, hesitantly, towards the stones.
* * *
Draco approached the memorial stones of his parents with a heavy feeling in his chest. He hadn't been back here for quite some time, and there was a reason. Whenever he saw his parents stones, his emotions boiled over. Whenever he had looked at Lucius' stone, he'd felt anger. The first face that would come to his mind with this anger was Harry Potter's. But this time, the usual image started to fade, and his father's face started to become clearer. Shaking his head, as if to clear cobwebs, he tried to determine why he was able to focus on his father. He must really be starting to understand where the anger should be aptly directed. Lucius Malfoy. Husband. Father. That was all Draco had put on the stone. He had no words of fondness, and he had even hesitated to put the word 'Father' on the stone, but, in the end, he had relented. He knelt in front of the stone, placing his hands on it, and he started to shake.
"Father, why did you have to follow such a madman? What is it you have taught me to do? I have grown up hating the world around me. All because of you. I have spent so much of my life hating, believe all the words you fed me. And in the end, where did it get me? A full-grown wizard, orphaned by a man who believed he should be master of the world." Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. "And now you're gone. You've been gone. I don't know how to feel anything but hate, thanks to you. I don't know how to do anything but hurt. No-one wants to be around me. And I can't even tell you how much I hate you. And I do. I hate you. I really hate you." This last was shouted at the stone, with tears coursing down his face.
With his face bent, in his hands, he shook for a moment. Then he crawled slowly to the stone next to it. Narcissa Black Malfoy. Devoted Mother. Wife. Draco had experienced some difficulty finding the right words to put on his mother's stone. The most loving thing he could come up with was 'devoted'. His relationship with his mother had never been easy, but she had shown him affection. On more than one occasion, too. But she had also blindly followed Lucius in all aspects of their lives. Except where Draco was concerned. And this is what earned her Draco's love. She used to send him boxes of treats to school, and all sorts of fun things. It made all his friends jealous, really. But she did it, not to show that Draco had more than he needed, but to show him that she loved him.
Now, looking at her memorial stone, he sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, silently crying tears that she would never see. "Mother, I don't think I ever told you, but I do love you. I did. Father never gave me the chance. I was always supposed to be strong. Cold. Heartless. Showing love, for him, was showing weakness. Your devotion to him was your downfall, as I watched that madman kill you. But I loved you. I hope you know that."
With that he closed his eyes, and gently wept.
* * *
After what seemed like hours, Draco was brought out of his meditation by a hand on his shoulder. Years ago, he would have jumped defensively, wand at the ready to strike, in reaction to such a touch. Now, he was defeated. He had come and admitted his hatred for his father, and his love for this mother. He realized, and admitted to himself, that Harry Potter was not his enemy, but that he, himself, had made him his enemy. And so, at the gentle touch, he turned and leaned into the hand. He didn't need to look into the face of the woman standing there he knew it was Pansy. And anyone else would have been smart to be afraid to interrupt such an intimate private moment between Draco and his thoughts, but he knew that Pansy was the one person, at this point, who could comfort him. He pulled her down to sit with him, and as they wrapped their arms around each other, his tears began to melt away. This was where he was meant to be, in the arms of this woman. This feeling was still quite new this feeling of happiness that could only come from the presence of another person. Draco had never experienced it before. "Will you come into the manor with me?" Pansy nodded.
Holding her hand, he led her into the house. With a wave of his wand, the drapes opened, letting as much light as possible into the house. "There's something I need to do. Can I have some time to myself?"
"Of course, you can. May I return?"
Draco looked pleadingly at her. "I don't think I could stand to be here without you."
"All right, then. I'll go and pick up some dinner for us and be back in time to eat."
Grabbing her wrist, he asked, "Pansy, I hope we can work things out. I can't make any promises right now. And I have a lot to sort out. But I do hope you'll be here to help me. And maybe, just maybe ..." His words trailed off, and Pansy kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Do what you need to do, love. I'll be back in a few hours. You never need to fear that I won't be here. I will always be here for you."
With that, she spun on the spot, and Disapparated away.
Draco walked into the study, found a piece of Malfoy stationery and a quill. He sat down at his father's desk and began to write.
* * *
Harry and Ginny were starting to get ready for dinner. Ginny was a fabulous cook, having learned everything she knew from Molly Weasley. Harry was pulling out potatoes, carrots, and onions, and Ginny started to prepare a roast. In Harry's opinion, Ginny might even be a better cook than her mother, as she had no cookbooks, yet all her dishes were delicious. There was a light knock on the door, and the happy couple looked at each other wondering who it could be. Anyone who knew they had moved there used the Floo.
Harry opened the door and found Pansy Parkinson looking hopefully at him. Harry nodded curtly and she stepped into the flat, waving to Ginny who had just poked her head out of the kitchen. "Hello, Pansy. Please sit down." His words were polite, but here sat a Slytherin housemate who had always treated him with loathing and disrespect.
"Harry, Ginny," she began, as Ginny, too, came and sat down. "I know I have done nothing to earn your trust, or even your respect. But I think Professor McGonagall might have contacted you, and I do imagine that you still trust and respect her." She waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, she continued. "I have spent an awful lot of time with Draco these last few days. I don't expect him to have changed overnight. As a matter of fact, he, himself, told me that it would take a long time for him to change, and resolve the issues that war within his heart." She looked up at Harry's snort. "I know you think he's cold and heartless, but I assure you, he does have a heart. It's buried deep within layers of cold and unfeeling flesh, but it is there. And I think I can draw it out."
"Pansy, what exactly are you here to tell us?" Harry asked.
"I know we might never be friends. Maybe some day we can, but I don't really expect it. But I'm fairly certain that Draco will not be carrying out his vendetta against you."
Ginny choked back a sob at these words. "Are you serious?"
"Pansy, I want to believe you. McGonagall said that you might be the key to getting him to stand down. But how can I be sure?"
"Well, I guess you really can't. And I can't expect you to trust me. But I can ask you to trust me. I just watched Draco return to his manor. He didn't know I was there. But I watched as he declared his hatred for his father, and his love for his mother. His ability to love is there, and if I have anything to say about it, he will direct that towards me. I think I helped him realize that his hatred for you was misdirected. I think he knows that no one else is responsible for the things the Dark Lord did. It's just going to take him some time."
Ginny's eyes had welled up, and she was blinking back tears. Harry wasn't quite sure why Ginny was crying, and he didn't really want to be so uncharitable as to think that Pansy wasn't being truthful with him. But before he could speak, a great eagle owl flew to the window. Harry stepped over, grabbed some owl treats, and traded the treats for the parchment tied to its leg. It had been closed with the Malfoy seal, and Harry looked questioningly at Pansy, whose face registered complete astonishment.
"I really had no idea. He said he had something he needed to do, and asked me to give him a few hours. I decided to come here. I know you two are recently married, and I thought some good news, even from me, might be welcome."
Potter,
Not sure where to begin. I want to get on with my life. I would think that you and Weasley's sister would want to get on with yours. Can we agree to a truce of some sort? I have no intention of hurting you, or your family, or hers, for that matter. I have found new things to occupy my time, I don't want to waste it on you.
Malfoy
The parchment was genuine, of this Harry was sure. But could he be sure of a happy future with his wife, with no life-threatening interruptions from Draco Malfoy? He looked up from his thoughts to find Ginny and Pansy deep in conversation with smiles on their faces. Perhaps friendship with Pansy was possible, after all.
"Pansy, I am going to make every effort to believe you. Ginny and I have things to discuss, as I imagine you and Malfoy do. I wish you luck with him, I truly do. I think you have a long road ahead of you, softening his heart." Taking a glance at Ginny, he added, "And while it may take some time, perhaps a friendship could be developed. I mean to say, it's possible, but I just don't know."
Pansy just nodded. She smiled at Ginny, and then headed for the door.
Once she was gone, Harry sank into the sofa. Ginny wrapped her arms around him, and he relaxed into her embrace. Sighing, they silently agreed to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt. More than anything, they just wanted to get on with their lives. Harry still felt Ginny's tears and he turned, with a questioning look on his face, "Ginny, what's wrong? This is good news. Why are you crying?"
"I don't know." She sniffled. "I can't stop. I guess I'm just so relieved and so happy. We can really start our lives now no threats hanging over us, no security to worry about every moment just you and me, in our own little flat, with no-one to bother us "
A/N: We are in the home stretch now. I can't believe I'll be done with one more chapter, maybe two. I have nothing but an infinite amount of appreciation and thanks for Ladybug's help and assistance with this story.
