Work Text:
Like Hope: A Cursed Child Interlude
"I'm Apparating Harry and Albus home," said Ginny. She looked at Draco and Scorpius. "I would welcome your company, for Al's sake. Harry needs me tonight."
She turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom were watching Harry with pained expressions. After the Time-Turner deposited the seven of them in present-day Godric's Hollow, Harry had staggered away from Ginny and Albus to face the village. He was taking deep, steadying breaths, but he visibly shook.
"Actually, I think he needs all of us. Meet us at the house?"
Hermione and Ron both nodded and disapparated with twin cracks. Draco peered at Ginny, as though assessing her sincerity.
"I don't want Al alone tonight, but I don't want to leave them unsupervised until we've had a chance to discuss all this. Please, Draco."
Silent tears still streamed down Scorpius' pale face as he stared at the gravel road underfoot. Albus kept glancing between Scorpius and Harry, anxiety apparent in the slight crease of his brow. Draco cleared his throat softly.
"Of course," he said. His hands, still resting on Scorpius' shoulders, squeezed gently. "Albus can show us the way. We will meet you there shortly."
Ginny nodded. "Go ahead of us, if you can. Ron and Hermione will help you settle in. They'll stay in James' room, and the boys can take Al's. You're more than welcome to Lily's."
Draco nodded. "Take all the time you need. The three of us will go find your brother and the Minister." He gave Scorpius a gentle push, and they set off down the road. As Ginny watched, Albus turned back on the second step and raced back to her, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce embrace.
"Thanks for finding us," he said, the words muffled into the fabric of her aquamarine coat.
"I will always find you." She spoke the words into the mess of dark hair, so like her husband's, and returned the fierce embrace. "Now take our guests home to Ron and Hermione, and I'll be along with your dad in a bit."
Albus stepped back and, with a last glance in his father's direction, turned to catch up to his best friend.
Ginny watched him go, then turned to face Harry, He had one arm wrapped around himself and the other hand touching his face in a carefully cultivated pretense of thoughtfulness that she knew hid a storm of pain. She approached him cautiously and placed a gentle hand on his back, but he flinched, eyes slamming shut.
"I'm fine, Gin," he said.
"Of course you're not," said Ginny. Harry said nothing, but she felt the muscles of his back tense beneath her hand, and she sighed.
"Let me take you home," she said. For a moment, she thought he would be too proud--might insist on Apparating himself--but then he nodded, eyes squeezed tightly shut. She seized the opportunity, wrapping him in a hug, and considered her destination with determination and deliberation.
…
Harry had always hated Side-Along Apparition, but even he knew that splinching himself would hardly improve his current outlook. It had been years, though, since he had allowed anyone to Side-Along him, and he had forgotten just how punishing the sensation was. As the living room of his family home materialized around him, he gasped, lungs desperate for air, and when a second gasp sounded too much like a sob, he found he did not have the will to fight it.
He didn't hear Ginny suggest that they sit down, but he instinctively obeyed the gentle suggestion of her hand. With her arms wrapped around him again, one hand woven through his messy hair, he wept for his parents, whose loss had set his life down an irreversible course of trauma. He wept because he thought he was past all of this. Most of all, he wept because it had all almost been for nothing.
When he had calmed a bit, long minutes later, he pulled back at the sound of Ron lowering a tea service onto the coffee table. From behind him, a warm weight fell over his shoulders, and a hand ruffled his hair as Hermione followed her husband out of the Potter kitchen with a heavy duvet.
"The kids are in Al's room, and Draco is on the floor, pretending to sleep. I don't know if any of them will do much of that tonight, but they're safe, and that's what matters," said Hermione. She poured a cup of tea, which she handed to Harry. The hot ceramic felt good between his palms.
"It's got chocolate in," said Ron. Harry's overwrought brain conjured an image of Remus Lupin commanding him to eat chocolate after a dementor attack, and another traitorous tear tracked down his face.
"That sounds, frankly, disgusting," said Ginny, and Harry snorted, nearly spilling his own cup as Ginny accepted one from Hermione.
"It's actually not," said Hermione, with a fond glance at Ron, who was selecting biscuits from the tray.
"Always the tone of surprise," Ron said, and Hermione swatted him.
Harry took a sip and focused on the sensation of the warmth flowing through him. Hermione was right--the tea was actually quite pleasant. Ron had clearly added cream and sugar to the blend, and he had done it well. The warmth of the tea and duvet had already melted away a bit of the despair that had been curdling inside him.
"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I'm f-" Harry began, but at the trio of stern gazes, he sighed. "Bit rough, actually. But I don't mean to keep you here."
"You're not keeping us, mate," said Ron, leaning back on the sofa and resting his elbows atop the cushions . "I can't be kept where I don't want to be. And Hermione's Minister for Magic, so I don't think she can either. Ginny might be stuck here, but we're here by choice."
Ginny hurled a throw pillow at Ron.
"Oi! You married the git, so you're stuck with him, simple as that!"
"Prat," said Ginny, but she smiled at the look in Harry's eyes, and at the memory of choosing to be stuck with him. She hoped he was thinking of that, too.
A moment of silence passed, as the group sipped their tea.
"I've always sort of remembered that night, in Godric's Hollow. I've had dreams about it since I was small, and it's what I hear when a dementor comes near... Or a boggart, for that matter."
Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat quietly, eyes intent on their friend. He hated talking about that night, and they knew that if he was doing so, it was more important than he would ever let on.
When it seemed Harry would not continue, Hermione spoke. "Your boggart is a dementor?"
Harry glanced at them in surprise. "Have I never told you that?" he asked.
"Not me, you haven't," said Ron, and Hermione agreed.
"I knew, but only because I've asked," said Ginny.
Harry sat back and took another sip of tea, which seemed to be magically warmed, as it had not lost any of its heat.
"I...suppose I don't much like talking about it," said Harry.
"I don't expect you would," said Hermione.
"It just...feels like I'm not allowed to wish things had been different, because all in all, their sacrifice probably saved countless lives. But it was hell, living with the Dursleys, and if I hadn't had you all, I...." Harry broke off, uncertain of how to continue.
"You what?" Ginny pressed, gently.
"It's... impossible, to imagine Hogwarts without you. I'd have died without your help, but what's worse is how alone I would have been. The Dursleys hated me and everything I stood for. If they'd felt they had a choice, I doubt they'd have bothered with me at all.” Harry studied his tea, which still had faint spirals of steam rising from it, before he continued. “Until Hogwarts, I was alone, and that's because of what we saw tonight. I've always known that. I just didn't know it would still hurt this much to see it."
"Of course it hurts," said Hermione. "It's okay to be sad about it. But Harry--" She took his hand and held it between hers until he looked directly at her. "As long as we're here, you'll never be alone again."
"We love you," said Ginny.
"They're not wrong," said Ron. Ginny rolled her eyes, and Hermione patted Ron's knee with an air of determined patience.
Harry smiled, just a bit, his eyes still sad. "I know that, really. And I love you too, of course. I just think, as long as I remember how it felt, I'll still feel that way, sometimes. I don't think it'll ever go away for good."
Ginny dropped an arm across his shoulders and leaned into his arm, still covered in the duvet. "I know what you mean," she said. Harry knew she did. He had woken her from nightmares about Tom Riddle's diary, and about the Carrows, on more than one occasion.
"I'm sure it's feeling especially fresh at the moment," said Hermione. "We can stay up and talk for as long as you need, but I suspect a good night's sleep is what will help more than anything."
All at once, the enormity of the events of the past day swept over him, and he felt properly exhausted. His eyes felt impossibly heavy, and his limbs heavier, as he fought a sudden, overwhelming urge to yawn. "You were always the clever one," he said.
"Let's get you to bed," said Ginny. "Ron, Hermione, you can sleep in James' room, if you'd like."
"I think we'll just clean up here and go home," said Hermione. "Tomorrow will be a long day at the Ministry, and I'd like to pop in on Rose and Hugo, check they're doing all right."
Harry wanted to tell her not to worry, that he would clean up, but he found that standing took the vast majority of his concentration, and the words would not come. He swayed, and Ginny steadied him.
"Thank you," said Ginny, and she steered Harry down the hall.
Outside Albus' room, they paused, and Harry came to alertness long enough for them both to peer through the cracked door at the sleeping boys within. Both lay on their sides, facing the center of the double bed. Each had a hand outstretched so that they were nearly but not quite holding hands. Draco lay in a bed he appeared to have transfigured from Albus' desk. His eyes, which had been open and watching the boys, darted over to the cracked door and met Harry's and Ginny's.
"Do you need anything?" Ginny asked. Albus shifted closer to Scorpius in his sleep, and Scorpius emitted a long sigh. Draco's lips quirked, and he shook his head. Ginny's eyes, lit with affection, sought out her husband's, but he seemed to have drifted off, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
"Goodnight," she whispered, then took Harry by the arm and led him the rest of the way to bed.
…
Albus was crying. Harry's heart split open at the sound. He reached out a hand and placed it on his son's shoulder, but Albus shook him off.
"Leave me alone!" Albus shouted.
"I just want to help," said Harry.
"I'd rather be alone than have help from you," Albus said, and the venom in his voice seared straight through Harry's split-open heart.
"You think you'd rather be alone, do you?" Harry asked, green eyes flashing.
And Harry saw Albus remember. "There are times I wish you weren't my son." Harry hadn't spoken the words this time, but they filled the space between them like a physical presence, and Albus turned heel and fled.
"Albus!" Harry shouted, to no avail. He kept running, and Harry chased after him. They crested a hill, and Albus ran faster as he leaned into the gravity. Ahead, at the bottom of the hill, Harry saw a fluttering veil, and panic washed over him.
"Accio Firebolt!"
The Firebolt appeared in his hands in an instant, and he raced after his son. The veil grew larger as he approached, and at the last possible moment, he shoved Albus to the side, but he was not able to stop himself from tearing through the ethereal fabric.
"So he'll give his life for the resentful child, but he won't raise a finger to help the parents who gave their lives so he could live."
Harry stared into the faces of his mother and father, who were more beautiful and more terrible than he remembered. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Sorry doesn't mean anything," said Sirius, appearing from behind Lily and James.
"I wanted to save you all, but I couldn't risk--"
"...pretty poor way to repay them," Remus said, appearing with Tonks from behind Sirius and gesturing sternly with the Marauder's Map.
"...nasty, ungrateful boy," said Aunt Petunia, who stood next to Lily, stirring the foul-smelling pot of rags that were to become Harry's Stonewall High uniform.
"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak," said Dumbledore, who held a wretched infant, raw and pitiful. Its eyes opened, and they were scarlet.
…
Harry jerked awake. His scar was not burning, but he felt sick from the machinations of his unconscious mind. His arms and legs prickled with goosebumps. A glance at his sleeping wife confirmed that Ginny had inadvertently stolen all of the blankets again. He shivered and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Almost automatically, he pulled on his dressing gown and set off down the hallway towards the children's bedrooms. The door to Al's room was ajar, and he peered inside. Albus now lay on his back with one arm flung over his head, the other crooked at his side so that one hand rested atop his abdomen. Scorpius had curled further in on himself, so that he was almost hugging his knees. Their chests rose and fell almost in unison, and the sight of them made tears prick unexpectedly at Harry's eyes, but he blinked them back and turned down the hall towards the kitchen.
A light in the kitchen made Harry's pulse race for a moment before he remembered that Draco had been absent from Al's room. He turned the corner, and a bright blonde ponytail shone in the light of Draco's wand as he searched the cupboards.
"Can I help you find something?" Harry asked, and Draco jumped, knocking his head on the cupboard door.
"You must have Firewhisky in this house somewhere, but my Summoning Charm did not retrieve it," said Draco, straightening the tie in which he appeared to have attempted to sleep.
"Had to ward it against James. He's got Weasley and Marauder blood, that one."
"Marauder blood?" Draco asked.
"Oh," said Harry. "I suppose you wouldn't know about them. My dad and his friends, they were notorious pranksters in school, apparently. They were called The Marauders. James takes after them, and Fred and George, it seems. It's a bit exhausting."
"More exhausting than a time-traveling Slytherin?" Draco asked.
Harry sighed, long and low. "No," he said. He dropped into a chair and performed a complex series of wand movements. The Firewhisky sailed into his waiting hand, as did two tumblers.
He poured a generous amount for himself and another for Draco, who had taken the seat opposite him. He held up his glass. "To the next generation," he said.
"May they learn from our mistakes," said Draco.
Harry had taken a sip already when he responded, "I think they already have."
Draco took a long sip and leaned his head back, his eyes closed.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, eyes still closed as he leaned into the back of the chair.
"I could ask you the same question," said Harry.
Draco opened his eyes and peered blearily at Harry. "You could," he said.
Harry took another sip of Firewhisky. "Bad dream," he said.
Draco met Harry's eyes for a moment before glancing away, taking another sip. "Couldn't sleep," he admitted.
"You're welcome to Lily's--"
"My transfiguration skills are more than adequate, Potter," said Draco.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Draco, I only meant--"
"Stop," said Draco. "I know what you meant. I apologize. It has simply been a trying day, and I found that I could not stop watching the two of them."
"I understand," said Harry. "And...I'm sorry, as well, for the role I played in today's events. I knew Albus had been struggling, but I never imagined that could lead to... to bringing Voldemort back."
Draco stared at Harry for a long moment. "It's very clear that was never your intention, nor was it Albus'. Delphini--"
Draco stopped, as Harry leapt suddenly to his feet, the chair beneath him flying backward and toppling onto the floor. "I forgot about Delphi. Where is she?"
"Relax, Potter," said Draco. "She has been apprehended. When we returned to the present day Godric's Hollow, I sent a Patronus ahead to Azkaban and the Ministry. Proudfoot and Savage have her in custody."
Harry's knees went weak, and he tried to sink back into his upturned chair but promptly fell to the floor. He swore under his breath as he righted himself.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?" asked Draco with a slow grin.
Harry laughed, then found that he could not stop laughing. He laughed until tears streamed down his face, and he tried to pretend that they were tears of mirth alone. Draco chuckled too, before returning to his Firewhisky and eventually raising an eyebrow at Harry's antics.
"You look like Snape when you do that," said Harry, sobering at last and wiping the tears from his face.
"He taught his Slytherins well," said Draco. Harry tried to envision Snape teaching a course in facial expressions to a class of first-year Slytherins and then had to stop, as he felt the hysteria from a moment before threatening to bubble back up. He refilled his glass of Firewhisky and then held the bottle over Draco's nearly empty glass, eyebrows raised in question.
"One glass is sufficient for me at this time, thank you," said Draco.
"Suit yourself," said Harry. He took another sip, then leapt to his feet again.
"I haven't offered you anything to eat," he said. "I'm famished. Are you hungry?"
"I suppose I could eat," said Draco, as his stomach gave an audible growl.
"You suppose, do you?" Harry asked. Draco drained his glass.
Harry opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon, which he carried to the stove.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making breakfast," said Harry.
"Bacon and eggs? At three in the morning?"
"We don't skip meals in this house," said Harry, his tone unexpectedly grave. "I've sent us all to bed without dinner, and we won't be missing breakfast."
"All right," said Draco. "But if you're treating this as morning, you've probably had enough Firewhisky."
"Probably," said Harry, taking another sip as he lit the stove.
Draco watched as Harry proceeded to cook bacon and eggs simultaneously. It was clear that he knew his way around the kitchen--Ginny had been quite truthful in stating that Harry did most of the cooking. Draco, who had never known life without at least two faithful house-elves, had never needed to learn the skill.
Draco had nearly drifted off at the kitchen table when Harry set a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast before him.
"I will make a statement as soon as the Ministry opens to refute the allegations about Scorpius. I should have done it years ago. Voldemort could never have produced a child like him."
Draco rubbed his temples. "You know better than anyone that the Wizarding public wouldn't have trusted your word alone. With Delphi in custody, the veracity of your statement will be unassailable."
"I do know that," said Harry. "I also know how it feels when the whole world suspects you of doing something terrible. Of being something terrible. I owe Scorpius an apology."
Draco cleared his throat. "I've no doubt he will appreciate that." He sighed heavily, then continued. "You are his hero. It is... very irritating."
Still leaning against the kitchen counter, Harry had taken a sip of pumpkin juice, which sprayed from his nose as he erupted in laughter. At the absurdity of this—pumpkin juice leaking from his face, Draco Malfoy breakfasting in his kitchen well before dawn, and the improbability of Draco's statement—Harry slid to the floor, still laughing.
"What's all this, then?" came Ginny's voice from the kitchen entryway. Harry tried to Evanesco the pumpkin juice, but he could not form the word.
"Your husband is malfunctioning," said Draco.
Harry's laughter turned to giggles for a moment before he was able to speak. "I'm fine, Gin, sorry we've woken you."
"You've made breakfast?" she asked, plucking a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter.
"Draco's stomach rumbled," said Harry, standing back up.
Draco's cheeks pinkened. "Simple peristalsis," he said.
"I was hungry, too," Harry admitted.
Ginny had finished a slice of bacon and was selecting another. "What had you giggling on the floor?" she asked.
Harry rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable.
"I told him, quite sincerely, that Scorpius considers him a personal hero," said Draco, eyes averted as he collected bits of egg.
"What's funny about that?" asked Ginny, now pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. When neither Harry nor Draco answered, she turned to look closely at Harry, who stood biting his lip.
"Oh, Harry," she said, setting down her pumpkin juice and gathering him in her arms. "You're a hero to Albus too, now more than ever. You and he struggle so because he idolizes you, and he feels like he’s living in your shadow. You just need to show him the real Harry Potter."
"I've been trying, and it hasn't been going well," said Harry. "The real Harry Potter doesn't understand how a kid could not love learning about magic--"
"It hasn't gone well because he hasn't seen the real you on a nice day," said Ginny. "Nice for both of you," she clarified, as Harry opened his mouth to argue. "The day before the start of term doesn't count."
Ginny released Harry from her grip, and he stepped away, considering her words as he sipped his pumpkin juice.
"I've just made so many mistakes with him," said Harry. "I can't imagine telling him all about my other mistakes will help."
Ginny summoned a tumbler from the cabinet and began filling it with a generous pour of Firewhisky. "Not just mistakes," she said, deftly conjuring water and freezing it into cubes of ice, which she stirred into the Firewhisky with a finger. "Just...your human side. Don't try to save him. Don't try to fix him. Just keep loving him for who he is, and let your guard down a little. Let him see you. Show him it’s not a mistake to be human."
Ginny watched Harry over the top of her glass as she sipped the iced Firewhisky. Harry remembered screaming at Dumbledore—then I don’t want to be human—the incalculable yet insufficient satisfaction of shattering the old man’s mysterious treasures, the abject anguish of that evening.
Draco cleared his throat, and Harry's eyes darted to him. "They're nothing like us, our sons. That's not exactly a bad thing, but it can make it hard to connect. With Scorpius..." Draco closed his eyes, seeming to steel himself to continue. "Astoria was our common ground, and it's hard to talk about her."
Silence fell for a moment before Harry spoke. "I'd have given a lot for someone to tell me about my mother. To this day, I know very little. Memories hurt, but that hurt can sort of turn to tenderness, over time. Forgetting... it just festers."
Preoccupied, Harry reached for Ginny's glass, but she gave his hand a gentle swat, placing her other hand over the rim, then added a splash of Firewhisky to Harry's glass of pumpkin juice. She winked at him, and he sipped it with a warmed heart.
"Astoria hated Firewhisky," said Draco, who watched Harry and Ginny with a growing sense of melancholy. "Said it tasted like Sleekeazy's and felt like a babbling beverage."
"How could she know what Sleekeazy's tasted like?" Scorpius' voice sounded unaccountably eager to his own ears, as he spoke from the kitchen doorway. Albus stood beside him, hair especially mussed and eyes still unfocused from sleep.
Draco straightened in his seat at the sound of his son's voice. Albus brushed past Scorpius in a beeline for the plates, and Harry cast a sheepish Evanesco.
"I believe she presumed it, based on its smell. We both used our fair share of Sleekeazy's--she more skillfully than I, particularly in my early Hogwarts years. The smell is distinctive and not entirely dissimilar to Firewhisky, although I would never have admitted that to her, as I can't explain why I still enjoy Firewhisky." Draco spoke the words slowly, eyes only for Scorpius, who seemed to struggle to maintain the eye contact.
He did not know what to make of his father's admissions, from the amateurish use of Sleekeazy's to the implied banter with his mother. It was easy for Scorpius to imagine Astoria's face alight with laughter, but it was more difficult to imagine Draco's. His father's face generally settled somewhere between disapproval and foreboding, with occasional forays into sorrow.
"Have we woken you?" Draco asked, finally glancing over at Albus as well, as he dropped into the seat opposite Draco and nibbled a piece of bacon, chin in one hand with his eyes half shut.
Scorpius crossed his arms tightly, rubbing his bare arms as if chilled. "I had a bad dream, and when I didn't see you, I woke Albus to come looking with me."
"You didn't tell me you had a bad dream," said Albus, whose entire posture had changed. His eyes were alert now, and he examined Scorpius briefly before rising to his feet. "I'll be right back," he said, before slipping out of the kitchen.
"It's been a night for bad dreams," said Harry. "Can I get you anything to drink? Help yourself to food."
"I notice you've not had any, Harry," said Ginny, who was already handing Scorpius a glass of pumpkin juice.
Albus returned, then, with an emerald green knit afghan from the sitting room, which he dropped over Scorpius' shoulders. "Stop your shivering," he said, and he sat back down at the table. Scorpius tightened the afghan around himself, expression softening as he watched Albus resume his breakfast. Ginny glanced at Harry, and Harry's eyes flitted between Albus and Scorpius before he returned her gaze, which glinted knowingly. Draco studied Albus as though he were a Galleon with an interesting misprint.
"Thanks, Mr. Potter," said Scorpius, still watching Albus push bits of scrambled egg onto a piece of toast.
"Any time, Scorpius," said Harry, watching the young Malfoy watch his son. "From here on out, you're always welcome in this house."
Albus glanced at his dad, and as he did, he felt something shift in the air between them. Harry had a piece of toast in one hand, and Ginny had reached out to squeeze the other. Harry's gaze flitted to Albus, and he smiled. It felt like hope.