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A Post- Daoimear de Dan ficlet for your reading pleasure
This is the very first HPDDD-verse ficlet, set only a few months after the end of HP DDD. Thought you might like a read. As always, lemme know what you think, man!
The Hilton Hotel Diagon Alley, December 1998.
The annual Ministry of Magic Christmas ball was a big deal this year. Normally it was reserved for the most esteemed ministry officials, but this year it was doubling as the first official Ministry celebration of the Phoenician Army's victory against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Now that the many trials were concluded, what was usually just a small dinner had become a huge event with tickets selling for thousands of galleons on the black market. The heroes of the war were the guests of honour, and not all of them were pleased about it.
In a room at the Hilton Diagon Alley, Maura Richards swore loudly. The mirror requested (not for the first time) that Maura limit her obscenities only to receive more of the same in response. It was not, Maura maintained, her fault that her hair refused to do anything. A knock on the door took away her attention and gave the mirror a well-earned rest. A resplendent looking Ginny Weasley bounced in, grinning happily.
"Hello there! Ready yet?" she asked. Maura growled very softly. Ginny was entirely too chirpy for this time of the evening.
"Not remotely," Maura replied in a cold voice. Ginny ignored it and came inside.
"Sit down. Hermione said you might want help."
"Oh she did? Well she was right. As usual."
"That's Hermione, for you," Ginny said, beginning to twist Maura's hair in strange directions.
"Do I really have to go to this shindig? Because I've really got better things to do."
"Like what?"
"Flossing with barbed wire. I had also been planning to water-ski in shark infested waters later on this evening while calling the meanest shark's mother a whore."
"You don't mean that."
"Yes I do. I'm not a sociable person. I'm the exact opposite of sociable."
"Well, the Ministry want to fawn over the four people who won the war and you're one of them."
"But four people didn't win the war. A cast of hundreds, maybe thousands did. When will they realise that all I did was beat up a weird looking bloke with no nose?"
"You sell yourself short," Ginny said, finishing up her work. In mere minutes, she'd transformed Maura's unruly mass of hair into a neat looking plait. "Done!"
"Thanks. Look presentable now, do I?"
"Of course. And you have five minutes left before they want you downstairs at the ball, Cinderella."
Ginny swept out of the room leaving a neater Maura staring at herself bemusedly.
"That's much better, dearie," said the mirror.
"Oh, sod off."
***
In the room next door, Draco Malfoy rather nervously adjusted his black silk dress robes. People had long memories and could hold grudges for just as long. Since his father had been thrown into Azkaban, Draco had received countless owls containing many different sorts of threat. He had been 'politely' informed that his family would no longer be invited to the sort of exclusive parties that his family had always attended. All of Lucius' contacts (legitimate and otherwise) had severed their connections with the Malfoy name and Draco was finding life in the wilderness a strange and inhospitable place that he didn't much like.
A knock on the door jolted him out of his nerves. He opened the door and Ginny Weasley swept in looking particularly regal in purple.
"I don't know why I'm here, but Harry asked me to just pop in and make sure you were all right. Are you all right? You look all right." She rattled on rather quickly, and he tried to keep the startled look off his face.
Draco nodded, rather surprised at her entrance. Satisfied with his answer, Ginny swept right back out again. People had long memories all right, but in this case, he supposed it was justified. Whose father gave her a cursed diary that nearly killed her and unleashed a terrible monster upon Hogwarts? Oh, Ginny Weasley was justified all right. He supposed he was lucky that she even acknowledged his existence. This gave him pause. Since when did he even care that the Weasleys acknowledged his existence? Hadn't he spent much of his time pretending they didn't exist? Draco Malfoy was finding himself forced into re-evaluating everything he'd ever been told, ever thought and ever believed. How he hated his father in moments like these. At least his mother would be at the party. With Sirius Black, but at the party just the same.
***
The conference hall at the Hilton Diagon Alley was almost full to bursting point. Just like at Muggle society events, everyone who was anyone was in attendance. These were the people who made very important decisions about the lives of ordinary wizards and witches. Politicians, Ministry officials, movers, shakers, war heroes. The latter all looked supremely uncomfortable in these surroundings.
"Stop fidgeting, Harry!" Hermione whispered across the table. As yet another person came over to fawn over him, he looked just like he had all night: like a deer caught in headlights. She watched with amusement as Maura came in, fidgeting just as much as Harry and looking just as fish-out-of-water as he did. The redhead stalked across the room, ignoring everyone who called to her, and sat down beside Hermione.
"Give me two good reasons why I should be here," Maura hissed. Hermione just laughed.
"Because it's your duty to."
"No, Hermione. My duty is to fight people. My duty is to get battered and bloodied in the name of justice and peace. My duty is not to smile politely and pretend I'm enjoying myself."
Hermione just laughed again and they sat together watching the rest of the guests. Sirius was here with Narcissa Richards. By virtue of the Richards name (well respected in both magical and Muggle worlds) and the very long memories of important people who could still remember her as Roger Richards' daughter, Lily Evans' best friend and not as Lucius Malfoy's wife, Narcissa had managed to dodge the worst of the anti-Malfoy sentiment. She hadn't been able to do much for her son, however. Her concern for him was written all over her face as she chatted idly to Remus Lupin, her eyes searching the room to see if Draco had arrived yet.
***
Ron nursed a Butterbeer at the bar. He saw Maura come in and waved to her, but didn't go over to where she sat herself down with Harry and Hermione. He felt oddly like thinking at the moment and he couldn't do that with Harry and Hermione canoodling beside him. He had never imagined that, of the three members of the trio, he would be the one to continue his education after leaving school. But sure enough, he was now a first year undergraduate student at the Nostradamus Academy, the premiere, highly exclusive (to the point of being secretive) divination arts university in the UK. He found that a lot of it came naturally to him through his shamanic nature, but some of it, theoretical stuff mostly, was still rather difficult. He'd never been one to study and he occasionally found himself wondering what the Hell he was doing at Nostradamus. But on the whole, it was worth it and in a few years' time he'd be a trained shaman.
He looked over at Harry and Hermione, to where they were sitting with Maura. Harry was talking to Maura but his hand was stroking Hermione's back while she listened with a soft smile. He didn't begrudge them a second of happiness: they both deserved it more than anyone, but sometimes.... Sometimes they just made him realise how much he wanted someone of his own. He'd dated a little, but there wasn't anyone who really made him think of love and marriage. His mother was on at him to settle down already even though he wasn't yet nineteen. It really didn't help that with the exception of Bill and Ginny, the rest of his siblings had already become completely
settled. Charlie and Romana were busy with dragons in Croatia. Percy was embarking on his campaign for Minster of Magic while Penny looked after Percy Jr and continued her training as a mid-witch. Fred and Angelina were expecting twins in a few months and George had been married to Jade Winters for a few months now while Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was going great guns. Bill had a good, steady career hundreds of miles away, and Ginny was still at school, which left him the sole target of his mother's concern. Ron had recently come to dread going home for Sunday dinner and enduring all his mother's questions about 'was he eating enough?' and 'found a special girl, yet?' and 'never mind dear, you'll find her soon.' Fred and George usually found some way to tease him about becoming an old maid while his father shot him supportive looks. The fact that he hadn't yet celebrated his nineteenth birthday really didn't seem to matter to any of them. It wasn't his fault that everyone around his age seemed to be coupling up very early in these heady post-war days. It wasn't his fault he hadn't found the girl of his dreams yet.
"Anyone sitting here?" someone asked. He looked up to see a familiar girl standing there. Her name didn't come straight to mind, however. For a moment he wondered if it was one of Ginny's friends, before the penny dropped and he realised who she was.
"Deanna Lynott?" he asked with surprise. Deanna Lynott nodded in the affirmative and grinned.
"Wasn't sure you'd remember me," she said, sliding onto the barstool beside him.
"Oh, I remember you, all right," he said, eyebrow quirked.
"The shouting, right?"
"Yeah. Wasn't expecting it. And the nearly being cursed. Can't forget that."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Oh, I didn't mind."
"Well, I'm still sorry. I'm not usually that rude either, but..."
"But Voldemort had just destroyed your school, it's all right.You apologised at the time," Ron finished for her. Deanna nodded quite sadly. "What brings you to the Ministry Christmas party? Didn't you go back to France?"
"I did for a while. But when they rebuilt Beauxbatons, they employed a full time English teacher and the new Headmistress didn't feel like keeping me on to help with any of it."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's really fine," she said breezily, waving a hand vaguely. "It wasn't like I was planning to be a real teacher or anything."
"What do you want to do, then?"
"I'd like to be a designer. You know, clothes and stuff? I've been in Diagon Alley the past few days interviewing to get a job as a junior designer for Gladrags."
"Really?" Ron looked impressed. "How did it go?"
"No idea. I'm not too good at interviews."
"I bet you'll get it," predicted Ron confidently. She blushed and smiled at him.
"Aren't you one of the guests of honour tonight?" she asked. His ears went pink.
"Something like that. Don't really see the point. Lots of people fought, you included."
"Ah, you lot seemed to do more. Besides, people like having other people to look up to," Deanna said confidently. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
"Not much. I'm studying at Nostradamus, you know, shaman arts and divination. Although I`m a bit worried about my mock exams. I don't think I did too well."
"I'm sure you've passed," Deanna predicted confidently. He blushed and smiled at her. He went to speak, but then his attention was diverted elsewhere.
***
The entire room fell silent as Draco Malfoy made his entrance. Normally he would smirk and assume that such attention was his birthright. But this was not the silence of admiration or even envy. This was the silence of hate. Practically every gaze directed at the young Malfoy was one of disgust. Draco had never had to deal with this before. Having Harry Potter publicly reject his offer of friendship when he was eleven hadn't stung like this. He knew that he would never win any popularity contests, but it didn't seem quite fair that he was paying for his father's crimes.
Then it hit him. He was not simply paying the price of having a Death Eater for a father. He was paying the price for centuries of Malfoy snobbery and Malfoy injustices. He was paying for his own unquestioning condescension and blind bigotry, his cruelty as a young boy and he was paying for the privilege that used to be a part of being a Malfoy. He realised something more: he deserved every second of it. He sighed, squared his shoulders and stepped further into the room.
Harry, Hermione and Maura watched sadly as Draco came in and everyone reacted as if he was bringing the Bubonic Plague with him. Maura growled angrily at the reaction that someone who was family to her was receiving, but what could she do, shout, scream and make it all worse? Harry and Hermione looked sympathetic but equally powerless.
***
Ron watched as Draco Malfoy entered the party and got the frostiest reception since Voldemort himself had made an unscheduled appearance at the New Year's Eve party in 1977. Ron didn't like Draco much, but even Ron considered this to be more than he deserved. Hadn't Draco taken his own father down? Hadn't Draco openly testified, not only against Lucius but against everyone he could? Hadn't he and his mother voluntarily opened up the doors to their home to allow the Ministry to search it? How much did the boy have to do to prove himself? Granted, he was still an insufferable git, but that didn't make him evil. He turned to Deanna.
"Will you excuse me for a minute?" he asked. When she nodded, he put his drink down and approached Malfoy.
"Evening, Malfoy," he said pleasantly. "Smart robes. Silk, are they?"
Draco was speechless. Of all the people to come over, Ron Weasley? It just wasn't fair.
"Thanks, Weasley. Yours are... nice too."
Ron grinned widely and held his hand out to Draco, who shook it without even hesitating. He surprised himself with the ease at which he'd accepted the hand of one of the people he'd treated worst.
"See Draco, compliments aren't that painful," Ron said with a bright (perhaps over-bright) smile.
"Don't push it."
Ron's olive branch didn't do the trick, but the next did. Everyone in the room watched as Arthur and Molly Weasley approached Ron and Draco.
"Mr Malfoy," began Arthur in an agreeable voice, "I'm told that you helped my son during the battle."
"Well, um..." Draco stumbled for words, unsure how to talk to this man. "I did. But I thought it was a tiger at the time. I was more worried about it eating me."
Arthur Weasley laughed loudly. Draco wondered if he was noisy as he was as a hint to everyone else, but it seemed genuine enough. Then Arthur held his hand out. This was no mere handshake. This was a Weasley offering to forgive a Malfoy for decades and centuries of feuding, dislike and outright hate. This was Arthur Weasley, a man who had been on the receiving end of Lucius Malfoy's temper more than once, offering his hand to Draco Malfoy. Lucius had been the one to send Ginny Weasley towards the Chamber of Secrets and yet Arthur was willing to shake his son's hand. Some people, Draco thought, were entirely too forgiving. But this was not the time for thinking such things.
Draco took it without hesitation. Arthur smiled warmly at him. He'd just been given another chance and he wasn't stupid enough to throw it away.
The dam broke as the rest of the evening contained more introductions and handshakes. By the end of the night Draco wasn't presumptuous enough to think that he was on a level playing field, and that all had been forgiven, but he left feeling like he might just be able one day to be just Draco, not the son of Lucius Malfoy.
***
Hermione yawned tiredly as she and Harry swayed gently on the dance floor. The night was almost over, but it had become quite pleasant as it wore on. She'd been introduced to a number of people in the publishing business, which interested her greatly as she'd been leaning increasingly towards working as some sort of writer. The Daily Prophet was almost tripping over itself to sign her up as a columnist, but she was quite concerned that they should want her for her skills not her name. She was broken out of her thoughts and out of the dance by a tap on Harry's shoulder and a sudden hand thrust towards them. A wizard she recognised vaguely shook her hand vigorously.
"Jolly happy to hear about the engagement!" he said effusively. "Can't wait for the wedding, hope you don't keep us all hanging on! Harry's a lucky feller with a girl like you, Miss Granger!"
Without even waiting for a response from either Harry or Hermione, the wizard was off through the crowd. He was not the last, either. Somehow, people had decided that the emerald ring on Hermione's hand was a definite sign of engagement, despite no announcements having been made. Hermione privately liked to think that his speech after the last battle had been a proposal, but it had been one for the future. They had not announced that they were engaged and had, as far as she knew, no plans for the immediate future. Judging by Harry's expression, he felt exactly the same way. Yet here they were dealing with sudden, unsolicited congratulations for an engagement that as far as they knew, didn't exist.
Then as the song they were meant to be dancing to ended, the Minister got up on stage and publicly announced to the world that Harry Potter had proposed to his young lady Miss Granger after the battle was finished. All Harry and Hermione could do was stand and smile politely, all the while wondering what was going on.
The End... For Now.
The Hilton Hotel Diagon Alley, December 1998.
The annual Ministry of Magic Christmas ball was a big deal this year. Normally it was reserved for the most esteemed ministry officials, but this year it was doubling as the first official Ministry celebration of the Phoenician Army's victory against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Now that the many trials were concluded, what was usually just a small dinner had become a huge event with tickets selling for thousands of galleons on the black market. The heroes of the war were the guests of honour, and not all of them were pleased about it.
In a room at the Hilton Diagon Alley, Maura Richards swore loudly. The mirror requested (not for the first time) that Maura limit her obscenities only to receive more of the same in response. It was not, Maura maintained, her fault that her hair refused to do anything. A knock on the door took away her attention and gave the mirror a well-earned rest. A resplendent looking Ginny Weasley bounced in, grinning happily.
"Hello there! Ready yet?" she asked. Maura growled very softly. Ginny was entirely too chirpy for this time of the evening.
"Not remotely," Maura replied in a cold voice. Ginny ignored it and came inside.
"Sit down. Hermione said you might want help."
"Oh she did? Well she was right. As usual."
"That's Hermione, for you," Ginny said, beginning to twist Maura's hair in strange directions.
"Do I really have to go to this shindig? Because I've really got better things to do."
"Like what?"
"Flossing with barbed wire. I had also been planning to water-ski in shark infested waters later on this evening while calling the meanest shark's mother a whore."
"You don't mean that."
"Yes I do. I'm not a sociable person. I'm the exact opposite of sociable."
"Well, the Ministry want to fawn over the four people who won the war and you're one of them."
"But four people didn't win the war. A cast of hundreds, maybe thousands did. When will they realise that all I did was beat up a weird looking bloke with no nose?"
"You sell yourself short," Ginny said, finishing up her work. In mere minutes, she'd transformed Maura's unruly mass of hair into a neat looking plait. "Done!"
"Thanks. Look presentable now, do I?"
"Of course. And you have five minutes left before they want you downstairs at the ball, Cinderella."
Ginny swept out of the room leaving a neater Maura staring at herself bemusedly.
"That's much better, dearie," said the mirror.
"Oh, sod off."
***
In the room next door, Draco Malfoy rather nervously adjusted his black silk dress robes. People had long memories and could hold grudges for just as long. Since his father had been thrown into Azkaban, Draco had received countless owls containing many different sorts of threat. He had been 'politely' informed that his family would no longer be invited to the sort of exclusive parties that his family had always attended. All of Lucius' contacts (legitimate and otherwise) had severed their connections with the Malfoy name and Draco was finding life in the wilderness a strange and inhospitable place that he didn't much like.
A knock on the door jolted him out of his nerves. He opened the door and Ginny Weasley swept in looking particularly regal in purple.
"I don't know why I'm here, but Harry asked me to just pop in and make sure you were all right. Are you all right? You look all right." She rattled on rather quickly, and he tried to keep the startled look off his face.
Draco nodded, rather surprised at her entrance. Satisfied with his answer, Ginny swept right back out again. People had long memories all right, but in this case, he supposed it was justified. Whose father gave her a cursed diary that nearly killed her and unleashed a terrible monster upon Hogwarts? Oh, Ginny Weasley was justified all right. He supposed he was lucky that she even acknowledged his existence. This gave him pause. Since when did he even care that the Weasleys acknowledged his existence? Hadn't he spent much of his time pretending they didn't exist? Draco Malfoy was finding himself forced into re-evaluating everything he'd ever been told, ever thought and ever believed. How he hated his father in moments like these. At least his mother would be at the party. With Sirius Black, but at the party just the same.
***
The conference hall at the Hilton Diagon Alley was almost full to bursting point. Just like at Muggle society events, everyone who was anyone was in attendance. These were the people who made very important decisions about the lives of ordinary wizards and witches. Politicians, Ministry officials, movers, shakers, war heroes. The latter all looked supremely uncomfortable in these surroundings.
"Stop fidgeting, Harry!" Hermione whispered across the table. As yet another person came over to fawn over him, he looked just like he had all night: like a deer caught in headlights. She watched with amusement as Maura came in, fidgeting just as much as Harry and looking just as fish-out-of-water as he did. The redhead stalked across the room, ignoring everyone who called to her, and sat down beside Hermione.
"Give me two good reasons why I should be here," Maura hissed. Hermione just laughed.
"Because it's your duty to."
"No, Hermione. My duty is to fight people. My duty is to get battered and bloodied in the name of justice and peace. My duty is not to smile politely and pretend I'm enjoying myself."
Hermione just laughed again and they sat together watching the rest of the guests. Sirius was here with Narcissa Richards. By virtue of the Richards name (well respected in both magical and Muggle worlds) and the very long memories of important people who could still remember her as Roger Richards' daughter, Lily Evans' best friend and not as Lucius Malfoy's wife, Narcissa had managed to dodge the worst of the anti-Malfoy sentiment. She hadn't been able to do much for her son, however. Her concern for him was written all over her face as she chatted idly to Remus Lupin, her eyes searching the room to see if Draco had arrived yet.
***
Ron nursed a Butterbeer at the bar. He saw Maura come in and waved to her, but didn't go over to where she sat herself down with Harry and Hermione. He felt oddly like thinking at the moment and he couldn't do that with Harry and Hermione canoodling beside him. He had never imagined that, of the three members of the trio, he would be the one to continue his education after leaving school. But sure enough, he was now a first year undergraduate student at the Nostradamus Academy, the premiere, highly exclusive (to the point of being secretive) divination arts university in the UK. He found that a lot of it came naturally to him through his shamanic nature, but some of it, theoretical stuff mostly, was still rather difficult. He'd never been one to study and he occasionally found himself wondering what the Hell he was doing at Nostradamus. But on the whole, it was worth it and in a few years' time he'd be a trained shaman.
He looked over at Harry and Hermione, to where they were sitting with Maura. Harry was talking to Maura but his hand was stroking Hermione's back while she listened with a soft smile. He didn't begrudge them a second of happiness: they both deserved it more than anyone, but sometimes.... Sometimes they just made him realise how much he wanted someone of his own. He'd dated a little, but there wasn't anyone who really made him think of love and marriage. His mother was on at him to settle down already even though he wasn't yet nineteen. It really didn't help that with the exception of Bill and Ginny, the rest of his siblings had already become completely
settled. Charlie and Romana were busy with dragons in Croatia. Percy was embarking on his campaign for Minster of Magic while Penny looked after Percy Jr and continued her training as a mid-witch. Fred and Angelina were expecting twins in a few months and George had been married to Jade Winters for a few months now while Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was going great guns. Bill had a good, steady career hundreds of miles away, and Ginny was still at school, which left him the sole target of his mother's concern. Ron had recently come to dread going home for Sunday dinner and enduring all his mother's questions about 'was he eating enough?' and 'found a special girl, yet?' and 'never mind dear, you'll find her soon.' Fred and George usually found some way to tease him about becoming an old maid while his father shot him supportive looks. The fact that he hadn't yet celebrated his nineteenth birthday really didn't seem to matter to any of them. It wasn't his fault that everyone around his age seemed to be coupling up very early in these heady post-war days. It wasn't his fault he hadn't found the girl of his dreams yet.
"Anyone sitting here?" someone asked. He looked up to see a familiar girl standing there. Her name didn't come straight to mind, however. For a moment he wondered if it was one of Ginny's friends, before the penny dropped and he realised who she was.
"Deanna Lynott?" he asked with surprise. Deanna Lynott nodded in the affirmative and grinned.
"Wasn't sure you'd remember me," she said, sliding onto the barstool beside him.
"Oh, I remember you, all right," he said, eyebrow quirked.
"The shouting, right?"
"Yeah. Wasn't expecting it. And the nearly being cursed. Can't forget that."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Oh, I didn't mind."
"Well, I'm still sorry. I'm not usually that rude either, but..."
"But Voldemort had just destroyed your school, it's all right.You apologised at the time," Ron finished for her. Deanna nodded quite sadly. "What brings you to the Ministry Christmas party? Didn't you go back to France?"
"I did for a while. But when they rebuilt Beauxbatons, they employed a full time English teacher and the new Headmistress didn't feel like keeping me on to help with any of it."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's really fine," she said breezily, waving a hand vaguely. "It wasn't like I was planning to be a real teacher or anything."
"What do you want to do, then?"
"I'd like to be a designer. You know, clothes and stuff? I've been in Diagon Alley the past few days interviewing to get a job as a junior designer for Gladrags."
"Really?" Ron looked impressed. "How did it go?"
"No idea. I'm not too good at interviews."
"I bet you'll get it," predicted Ron confidently. She blushed and smiled at him.
"Aren't you one of the guests of honour tonight?" she asked. His ears went pink.
"Something like that. Don't really see the point. Lots of people fought, you included."
"Ah, you lot seemed to do more. Besides, people like having other people to look up to," Deanna said confidently. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
"Not much. I'm studying at Nostradamus, you know, shaman arts and divination. Although I`m a bit worried about my mock exams. I don't think I did too well."
"I'm sure you've passed," Deanna predicted confidently. He blushed and smiled at her. He went to speak, but then his attention was diverted elsewhere.
***
The entire room fell silent as Draco Malfoy made his entrance. Normally he would smirk and assume that such attention was his birthright. But this was not the silence of admiration or even envy. This was the silence of hate. Practically every gaze directed at the young Malfoy was one of disgust. Draco had never had to deal with this before. Having Harry Potter publicly reject his offer of friendship when he was eleven hadn't stung like this. He knew that he would never win any popularity contests, but it didn't seem quite fair that he was paying for his father's crimes.
Then it hit him. He was not simply paying the price of having a Death Eater for a father. He was paying the price for centuries of Malfoy snobbery and Malfoy injustices. He was paying for his own unquestioning condescension and blind bigotry, his cruelty as a young boy and he was paying for the privilege that used to be a part of being a Malfoy. He realised something more: he deserved every second of it. He sighed, squared his shoulders and stepped further into the room.
Harry, Hermione and Maura watched sadly as Draco came in and everyone reacted as if he was bringing the Bubonic Plague with him. Maura growled angrily at the reaction that someone who was family to her was receiving, but what could she do, shout, scream and make it all worse? Harry and Hermione looked sympathetic but equally powerless.
***
Ron watched as Draco Malfoy entered the party and got the frostiest reception since Voldemort himself had made an unscheduled appearance at the New Year's Eve party in 1977. Ron didn't like Draco much, but even Ron considered this to be more than he deserved. Hadn't Draco taken his own father down? Hadn't Draco openly testified, not only against Lucius but against everyone he could? Hadn't he and his mother voluntarily opened up the doors to their home to allow the Ministry to search it? How much did the boy have to do to prove himself? Granted, he was still an insufferable git, but that didn't make him evil. He turned to Deanna.
"Will you excuse me for a minute?" he asked. When she nodded, he put his drink down and approached Malfoy.
"Evening, Malfoy," he said pleasantly. "Smart robes. Silk, are they?"
Draco was speechless. Of all the people to come over, Ron Weasley? It just wasn't fair.
"Thanks, Weasley. Yours are... nice too."
Ron grinned widely and held his hand out to Draco, who shook it without even hesitating. He surprised himself with the ease at which he'd accepted the hand of one of the people he'd treated worst.
"See Draco, compliments aren't that painful," Ron said with a bright (perhaps over-bright) smile.
"Don't push it."
Ron's olive branch didn't do the trick, but the next did. Everyone in the room watched as Arthur and Molly Weasley approached Ron and Draco.
"Mr Malfoy," began Arthur in an agreeable voice, "I'm told that you helped my son during the battle."
"Well, um..." Draco stumbled for words, unsure how to talk to this man. "I did. But I thought it was a tiger at the time. I was more worried about it eating me."
Arthur Weasley laughed loudly. Draco wondered if he was noisy as he was as a hint to everyone else, but it seemed genuine enough. Then Arthur held his hand out. This was no mere handshake. This was a Weasley offering to forgive a Malfoy for decades and centuries of feuding, dislike and outright hate. This was Arthur Weasley, a man who had been on the receiving end of Lucius Malfoy's temper more than once, offering his hand to Draco Malfoy. Lucius had been the one to send Ginny Weasley towards the Chamber of Secrets and yet Arthur was willing to shake his son's hand. Some people, Draco thought, were entirely too forgiving. But this was not the time for thinking such things.
Draco took it without hesitation. Arthur smiled warmly at him. He'd just been given another chance and he wasn't stupid enough to throw it away.
The dam broke as the rest of the evening contained more introductions and handshakes. By the end of the night Draco wasn't presumptuous enough to think that he was on a level playing field, and that all had been forgiven, but he left feeling like he might just be able one day to be just Draco, not the son of Lucius Malfoy.
***
Hermione yawned tiredly as she and Harry swayed gently on the dance floor. The night was almost over, but it had become quite pleasant as it wore on. She'd been introduced to a number of people in the publishing business, which interested her greatly as she'd been leaning increasingly towards working as some sort of writer. The Daily Prophet was almost tripping over itself to sign her up as a columnist, but she was quite concerned that they should want her for her skills not her name. She was broken out of her thoughts and out of the dance by a tap on Harry's shoulder and a sudden hand thrust towards them. A wizard she recognised vaguely shook her hand vigorously.
"Jolly happy to hear about the engagement!" he said effusively. "Can't wait for the wedding, hope you don't keep us all hanging on! Harry's a lucky feller with a girl like you, Miss Granger!"
Without even waiting for a response from either Harry or Hermione, the wizard was off through the crowd. He was not the last, either. Somehow, people had decided that the emerald ring on Hermione's hand was a definite sign of engagement, despite no announcements having been made. Hermione privately liked to think that his speech after the last battle had been a proposal, but it had been one for the future. They had not announced that they were engaged and had, as far as she knew, no plans for the immediate future. Judging by Harry's expression, he felt exactly the same way. Yet here they were dealing with sudden, unsolicited congratulations for an engagement that as far as they knew, didn't exist.
Then as the song they were meant to be dancing to ended, the Minister got up on stage and publicly announced to the world that Harry Potter had proposed to his young lady Miss Granger after the battle was finished. All Harry and Hermione could do was stand and smile politely, all the while wondering what was going on.
The End... For Now.