“What’s that?” Ginny points out a cabin in the distance.
Harry squints. “I don’t know. It wasn’t here twenty years ago.”
“Want to go check it out?” Ginny’s eyes light up. Harry smiles. He loves that she’s always down for an adventure.
“Sounds good to me.”
The couple duck through the underbrush around the trail. When they near the cabin, Ginny gasps. Harry’s eyes pop wide open.
He’s looking at a cozy, well-maintained cabin surrounded by a lush flower garden. On one side of the cabin, a deck overlooks the river, and three fishing poles are bound to the railing. On the other side, a swinging bench and a coffee table adorn the wide front porch.
None of this is what has Harry and Ginny gaping like idiots, though.
In the garden, Vincent Crabbe is humming as he trims a rosebush. Gregory Goyle is frowning in concentration as he tries to tie a flowering vine to a trellis. Each are wearing a large, floppy-brim straw hat and a plaid flannel shirt.
In the corner of the yard, Draco Malfoy is chopping firewood and stacking it neatly.
Ginny giggles. Harry tries to shush her – he doesn’t want to confront the three.
It’s too late. The three men in the yard whip their heads around and immediately spot Harry and Ginny.
Draco Malfoy stands up straight and rests the ax on his shoulder. “Potters?” He frowns, looking more confused than anything.
Harry and Ginny step sheepishly out into the clearing. “Uh, yeah,” Harry clears his throat awkwardly, glancing between the three men staring at him and his wife. “Er – nice place you’ve got here,” he tries.
Crabbe and Goyle have stood up from where they were doing yardwork. Malfoy scowls distrustfully at Harry. “Why are you trespassing on my property, Potter?” He stalks closer.
Harry is painfully aware of the ax over his shoulder. “We’re not! Er, I mean we didn’t mean to – Ginny and I are just out on a hike. We were curious when we saw the cabin in the distance – we didn’t mean to barge in.” Harry says nervously.
“You know, this is not the kind of place I would have imagined you three would live,” says Ginny as she looks around. “I would have thought somewhere less…” she pauses thoughtfully. “Bright and flowery, I guess.”
Malfoy scowls at her. “And why is that?”
Ginny looks nervous now. Harry is convinced they’re about to die. “I guess just because none of you guys ever struck me as the garden-y type?” she says.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t judge us by our looks.” Goyle jumps in defensively, crossing his arms.
“Or, uh, our past actions… those too,” adds Crabbe.
“But why here?” Harry blurts out. “Why not… somewhere closer to anything?” He winces. Harry wishes he hadn’t said anything. He just wants to leave this weird encounter behind and continue happily on his hike with Ginny.
“People don’t want us living near them,” grunts out Goyle. “Everybody thinks we’re bad guys. But we really aren’t that bad.” Harry blinks in shock. Does Goyle look… sad at that thought?
Malfoy snorts. “I’ve got this, guys.” He looks Harry directly in the eyes and starts.
“I’m malicious, mean and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy, and violence-wise my hands are not the cleanest.” Malfoy throws the ax he is holding to the side, and it lands cleanly in the middle of a tree stump.
“But despite my evil look – and my temper – I’m no crook, and I’ve always yearned to be a concert pianist.” Malfoy closes his eyes, fingers stretched out and dancing over imaginary keys. Harry is stunned. What in the goddamn fuck –
“Can’t you see me on the stage performing Mozart?” Malfoy asks dreamily. “Tickling the ivories ‘til they gleam… yeah, I’d rather be called deadly for my killer Showtune medley, ‘cause way down deep inside I’ve got a dream.”
In the background, Crabbe has dragged out a boombox from the house. He turns it on with a forceful kick, and a beat sputters to life. He and Goyle link arms and start wildly skipping around in joy.
“He’s got a dream!” They sing loudly and off-key. “He’s got a dream!”
“See, I’m not as cruel and vicious as I seem!” shouts Malfoy over the mayhem. “Though I do like breaking femurs, you can count me with the dreamers! Like everybody else I’ve got a dream!” He skips away, disappearing for a moment and leaving a gobsmacked Harry and Ginny watching Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy reappears, clutching three mugs of Firewhiskey. He hands one each to Harry and Ginny, and raises his own in a toast before chugging it enthusiastically.
Goyle breaks away from where he is dancing with Crabbe, facing Harry and Ginny. “I’ve got scars and lumps and bruises,” he starts. He lifts the hem of his robes, showing off a nasty wound on his leg. “Plus something here that oozes, and let’s not even mention my complexion.”
Ginny looks queasy. Goyle continues happily. “But despite my extra toes, and my goiter and my nose, I really want to make a love connection!”
He closes his eyes, dancing with an imaginary partner to the lively beat coming from the boombox. “Can’t you see me with a special little lady, rowing in a rowboat down the stream? Though I’m one disgusting blighter, I’m a lover, not a fighter, ‘cause way down deep inside I’ve got a dream!” He grabs Harry’s mug of Firewhiskey and downs it in one gulp before skipping off, linking arms with Malfoy.
“I’ve got a dream!” he shouts giddily.
“He’s got a dream!” sing the other two men in response.
“And I know one day romance will reign supreme!” Goyle sighs wistfully. “Though my face leaves people screaming, there’s a child behind it dreaming. Like everybody else, I’ve got a dream!”
Goyle dances back off into the mayhem that is Malfoy and Crabbe dancing. Crabbe takes his place in front of Harry and Ginny. He’s just as grouchy-looking as Harry remembers, but the effect is somewhat diluted by the fact Harry has just been watching him frolic with his friends.
“I’ve got dreams like you – no, really!” he insists at Malfoy’s derisive snort. “Just much less touchy-feely. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny,” he stretches his arms out and leans back, blissfully grinning into the sunshine. “On an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone. Surrounded by enormous piles of money,” he sighs happily. “I’ve got a dream!” he shouts to his mates.
“He’s got a dream!” They toast him as they continue dancing.
“I’ve got a dream!” Harry looks over at his wife, surprised. Ginny’s eyes are glowing.
“She’s got a dream!” Bellow the three former Death Eaters.
“I just want to win the Quidditch Cup this season!” Ginny takes a swig of Firewhiskey enthusiastically, toasting Malfoy and his mates. “And with every winning game, I am inching towards that claim!”
“Like everybody else, she’s got a dream!” yells Malfoy.
“They’ve got a dream!” shouts Ginny to Harry over the beat.
“We’ve got a dream!” affirm the three men.
“So our differences aren’t really that extreme?” says Harry, bemused.
“Call us brutal, sick, sadistic, and grotesquely optimistic,” says Malfoy eloquently, nodding at Harry. “’Cause way down deep inside I’ve got a dream!”
Harry nods. “Well, uh – this was quite nice, Malfoy, but I think Ginny and I need to be on our way. Goodbye, and, er, good luck on those dreams.”
Malfoy grins broadly. “Good to see you, Potters! What a wonderful time this has been.” He turns to Crabbe and Goyle. “OI! Those flowers still need deadheading! Back to it!”
Harry and Ginny head back to the main path. They walk in silence for awhile as they try to process what just happened.
“Well,” says Harry after a moment. “Good to see them happy.”
Ginny giggles. “Yeah.”