Chapter Text
As the sun set low over the Australian horizon, Wendell and Monica Wilkins packed up their beach bags and lawn chairs, shaking off the excess sand and chatted animatedly about their plans for dinner, talks of dancing on the beachfront restaurant nearby. The evening breeze blew generously, filling the air with the smell of salt and sand. Their lives were completely ordinary and unburdened. They had successful careers and no children to care for.
No anxious, war-torn children with nightmares and scars to worry their minds over.
Hermione sighed and shifted on the bench facing the water. They would walk right past her and never know.
She would give herself till the sun was completely dipped behind the ocean to watch them disappear into their new lives, and her into her own. She wouldn’t burden them with trying to restore their memories, with trying to comfort her in from a war that took place in a world they weren’t privy too. wasn’t worth the risk of messing up their perfectly functional minds, their happiness.
The dark blue waters of the tide pushed in and out on the sand, as the orange sun dipped out of sight. The twinkle of street lamps and car headlights shone around her. Hermione clicked the button on the flashlight that was an international portkey three times and felt the swirling sensation of being squeezed through time and space.
Back at the Burrow, she told the Weasleys she couldn’t find her parents, that they must have not moved to Australia after all. It would be impossible to guess what the Wilkins’ next move would be. Molly rambled on about how she still had their family and Harry and so many admiring supporters. Harry and Ginny mumbled half-hearted condolences, too lost in their own joy to feel much of anything else.
Ron offered a one-armed hug and an awkward kiss on the cheek.
“Well, what’s the plan now?” he asked, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the wood floors.
“I’ll write to McGonagall, tell her I accept her offer to come back to finish and get my N.E.W.T.S and that I accept being Head girl. It’ll look good for whatever I do after.” she wrapped her arms around her chest and looked away, not wanting to meet the pitiful expression on Ron’s face. The truth of the matter was post-war life had left her with more questions than answers. The boys knew they wanted to be Aurors for years before the war, but Hermione hadn’t settled on any one thing. He took a deep breath and started to say something.
“You can come to Auror training with Harry and I- “
“ I already told you I don’t want to be an Auror! At least not right now I don’t! I don’t know exactly what I want to do now I haven’t had the time to think-”
“What are you talking about you’re always thinking-”
“About bringing down Voldemort. About keeping Harry alive. About just getting to the next day. I don’t know what I want...Not yet. I need time to think, and to heal.”
“Heal? ”
Answering with only an exasperated sigh, she moved through the kitchen and out of the back door to the garden where the warm July breeze pushed through the stilted air. Ron followed silently and automatically
There were a few more awkward beats of silence between them in which only the crickets and summer breeze rustling the grass of the meadow could be heard. The moon’s silver glow bathed them both in an eerie light. Ron took a side step away and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“ ‘Mione-”
“ Yes, Ron? “
“ You’ll figure it out. You always do. And when you do, I'll be here waiting okay? “
Hermione gave him a small half-smile. “Yeah, I know. I think I’d like to be alone for a moment.”
And with that, he went back into the Burrow. Hermione looked up at the sliver full moon and tried to let her heart tell her what was next for once.
The shining golden snitch tried to make an escape again and was caught, just by the tip of his middle finger. His hand curled around it instinctively and he brought it back, smothering the fighting wings against his shirt so they would retract back into the ball.
“Draco.”
“ Yeah?”
Narcissa clicked her tongue in admonishment of the response. “ No matter how hungover you are, you’re still a Malfoy. I suggest you sit and speak like one.” She was sitting ramrod straight, on the very edge of her seat, floor-length black robes hovering just above the marble floor. He blinked at her for a moment and decided the headache he had despite the hangover potion did not need to be aggravated further by an argument, so he pulled himself up from his leaning position on the arm of the chair and straighten his coat.
“So sorry mother. Tell me, do you think the weather on Azkaban is pleasant this time of year?” Draco asked in mockery of what his mother would call polite conversation. The snitch sensed movement and tried to make a break for it but he caught it with his left hand before it could get too far.
“You were always so talented. Are you going to take your old spot back on the team once you return?” Narcissa asked resting her chin on her fist, boulder-sized diamond ring shining in the mid-morning light. The Manor made a noise like the Floo in front of them going off and both Malfoys tensed for a moment, then relaxed as it came to be nothing.
“ You can’t seriously think they’ll let me back. “ Draco mumbled, gripping the snitch even tighter.
“You need N.E.W.T.S to do anything worthwhile.”
“They won’t hire me anyway-”
“Draco, come now- “
“Mother I don’t want to-”
This time the Floo did spring to life and both of them automatically got on there feet as their solicitor passed through in a flash of green. He looked directly at Narcissa first and shook his head slowly.
“No chance of parole? At all? Ever.”
Mr. Foxworth cleared his throat and spoke in the type of voice reserved for delivering bad news. “Mrs. Malfoy, you should understand, you were pardoned because of an extraordinary moment in history. Maybe in a few years, when things have calmed down and Mr. Malfoy has good behavior, we can bring the topic of parole up again, but you should know, it was shot down by the entire jury. People are angry and grieving so they’re looking for scapegoats to pay for the crimes of the dead.”
Narcissa placed a hand over her lips to hide the fact that they were trembling for a moment and then spoke again. “What of Draco’s trial? Will it be before the new term starts? Can he go back to Hogwarts?”
Mr. Foxworth turned towards him. “You’re very lucky that the Ministry is still a slow-moving mess right now. Every day new crimes are being uncovered and so many paper trails were destroyed in the takeover. Power is still shifting and ranks still being filled in. I think if you keep your head low you can get a couple more months before you’re summoned. See if they’ll let you back, it’ll look good for when you do have to go up. “ He turned back to Narcissa “ That’s all I have for today.”
She dismissed him and he vanished back through the fireplace, while Draco stood frozen to the spot. He couldn’t move for being paralyzed with a rush of anger and fear. So he’d get to walk in a Voldemort free world for just a few months before it could be taken away forever. It was impossible to decide if it would be worse not just lock himself up in the prison right now and never allow the taste of freedom again.
He loosened his grip on the snitch, watching the golden ball flutter away just out of arm's reach. His gaze followed it as it hovered higher and higher, lost in thought until his mother touched his arm, making him jump slightly. This was the closest he’d ever seen her to being in tears because Narcissa Malfoy did not cry, not at least in front of anyone. Her ice-blue eyes studied him like they wanted to absorb him as if she could atone for his sins somehow. Gripping his arm she whispered, as if afraid to say the words out loud
“You need to go back, back to school. You need to be good, Draco. I can’t lose you too. “