Chapter 12
Molly and Arthur smiled at each other as the children piled into the car Arthur had been working on in the absence of the Anglia. The noise of their conversation reminded them just how quiet the Burrow was in their school times.
"Everyone alright on the train?" Arthur asked, turning in his seat. A chorus of affirmatives rang out. "Excellent!"
Fred was against the window, Rebecca beside him. The others hurried to talk over the other, trying to tell Molly and Arthur how the first half of the year had gone. Ron quickly gave up, finding the task arduous enough to have left him in need of another nap.
Fred and Rebecca, who had used the train ride for work instead of rest, soon found themselves heavy-eyed and the falling of their heads waking them before they gave in.
Half-way through their journey, Molly noticed in the mirror. Fred's forehead was against the window and his mouth hung slightly, Rebecca was under his arm and her glasses crooked against him.
"I already saw." Arthur muttered as Molly smiled.
"Yeah, yeah!" Ginny gasped, interrupting George's story. "When his broom hit the Whomping Willow...it absolutely destroyed it."
"Turned it into toothpicks." George said softly. "I think that's why Harry wouldn't listen, honestly."
"Wouldn't listen?" Molly clarified.
"A parcel came, no sender." George turned his head and made sure the other three in the car were still sleeping. "A Firebolt. Hermione and Rebecca said that it needed to be vetted before it could be ridden and Harry and Ron-" George winced. "Disagreed, to put it lightly."
Ginny sighed. "That's why they were fighting, mum."
"Boys." Arthur rolled his eyes with a grin.
"Hey! Fred and I went to McGonagall's with them!"
Ginny snorted at George's defence. "No, Fred led the way and you followed."
"Fred led the way?" Molly asked with a well-hidden smile.
"Yeah, he knew that that needed to be done." George furrowed his brow. "And we'd only caught the end of their spat, too. Didn't think he could think that fast."
"Be nice, George." Arthur corrected instantly. Their conversation turned towards Ginny and her second-year classes as the end of their drive grew closer.
"Hey loves," Molly turned her head as she turned onto their road. "We're home and we-"
"Oh Merlin." George gasped, jostling Fred and Rebecca awake as he climbed over them and threw the door open before the car had fully stopped. "Charlie?!"
Fred lifted his leg, keeping George's knee off Rebecca and untangling his arm from around her. Rebecca straightened her glasses, looking up at the Christmas-decorated Burrow. A wreath hung on the door and candles shone out of the windows, one with the drapes pulled back enough to reveal a tree.
Rebecca had never seen anything quite as home-oriented beautiful.
Charlie was swarmed but Rebecca gravitated towards Bill who looked at the attack of family with a grin. "Happy Christmas, Bill."
"Happy Christmas!" Bill moved to show that he would take a hug if she offered it and offer it she did. "Any fights this-?"
"No!" Rebecca laughed and shook her head. Of course that had been one of the first stories Fred and George had told him.
Charlie stepped out of the throng of redheads and panted, running his hand through his long hair. "I think they missed me."
"You think?" Molly chided. "Rebecca, this is our-"
"Please don't let an insult be my introduction, mum." Charlie grinned and held out his hand. "Charlie, nice to meet you."
"Rebecca." She glanced over to the trunks being levitated in. "I think I have your trunk, I'm sorry."
"What for?" Charlie looked to Molly briefly, curious as to why nerves seemed to wash off the girl in front of him in waves. Molly shook her head discreetly, begging that her son had sense to not ask questions. "Let's go on in, it's freezing out here."
"Do dragons get cold in the winter?" Rebecca's question fell out of her before she could hold it back.
Charlie noticed how she appeared almost...regretful at asking and wondered very much why Molly so clearly needed to explain things to him. "Yes, they do. I've been trying to convince my sanctuary to invest in sweaters but there are logistical concerns."
"Of course there are, dear." Molly shook her head and tutted. "Not to mention all the pulls from those claws."
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Where Rebecca and the returning Weasley children found hugs and laughter in King's Cross Station, Draco found only a lone butler.
"Master Draco, your trunk is already in transit. If you'd grab my arm, sir."
Draco knew better than to delay the inevitable, but he couldn't help it. "Mother couldn't come?"
The butler's hesitation betrayed the truth: she didn't want to. "Madam Malfoy is very busy, sir. I'll apparate us at once."
Draco nodded, biting his lip hard. He hated apparating, hated the claustrophobic feeling of being forced through space and time that left him dizzy and nauseous. The entry to Malfoy Manor was cold and dark, just as it always was.
"Welcome back, sir!" The maid at the door was truly happy to see Draco, she'd played such a role in raising him after all. She helped him with his coat and held her hand to his cheek as long as she dared to risk showing such affection before pulling her hand back. "How has school been?"
"Is father home? I have to speak with him." Draco couldn't let bear to talk about school, not when he had nothing positive to share and yet he'd give anything to still be in the castle. "It's urgent."
"Mister Malfoy is away in a meeting, but Madam Malfoy is waiting for you in her study." The maid frowned at the despair that crossed their young charges face and the butler stepped forward behind her.
"Is something the matter, sir?"
"No, I just need to speak to him." Draco said with his mind far in the distance. "Her study? Thank you." Draco climbed the stairs while he tried to figure out if he was thankful that his talk with Lucius had been delayed or saddened that he couldn't get it over with quicker.
"Draco darling, come sit with your mother." Narcissa narrowed her eyes on Draco as he entered the room and lingered by the door.
(Look, this is important. I do not write a Narcissa like other ffs. Just as there is no evidence that Draco was abused canonically and I have included it, I have decided that I do not agree with the opinion that abuse only comes from Lucius. You have been warned, this is my take on a character.)
"Why did I hear you asking about where your father was?"
Draco hesitated, looking down instead of at her. "I need to talk to him, that's all."
"About?" Draco didn't answer and Narcissa restrained herself from reacting. "He is in a meeting and will not be back until dinner is served."
"A meeting?" Draco asked. "Do you know what it's about?"
"Your father has been in meetings every day for weeks about that beast! The final member of the council answered yesterday. Don't worry--The beast is as good as dead already."
The color seeped from Draco's face until his cheeks were as white as his hair. "Oh."
"'Oh?' Do you not speak English, boy?" Narcissa shook her head. "What did you want to speak to your father about? Don't make me ask again."
Draco felt his heartbeat quicken as it hadn't since he had been left by his mother to board the train months earlier. He could feel the panic grow from the pit of his stomach to the base of his neck and he could feel himself shutting down. "I-I have been asked by a classmate working in defence of the be-of the hippogriff. I didn't know if we could withdraw our case."
Narcissa stared at him. "'Withdraw our case?'" She was silent as she seethed with rage. This boy? Did his selfishness know no bounds? Did his stupidity reach new depths with every passing day? "We most certainly will not! That beast shouldn't be around students!"
"All I told her was that I would ask." Draco said without thinking. He hadn't readjusted to silence, to never offering anything more than his mother and father needed to no.
"I see." Narcissa stood and pulled him to his feet, leaving a stinging slap on his cheek. "I don't care what little slag has been asking you favours, you'll say nothing of this to your father. He's working endlessly for you and you will not be so unappreciative."
Narcissa grabbed him by the back of his neck, marching him back to the door. "Go to your room and don't leave it until tomorrow. Perhaps you'll be more grateful!"
Draco walked down the hall in silence, he was good at that. He didn't know the last time tears had been accompanied by noise from him. His room was as he had left it but kept up, the sheets turned down and a note from the maid reassuring him that supper would be brought up for him discreetly.
He closed his door behind him and found himself filled with something unusual after such a regular occurrence--He was angry. It was taking the place of his sadness, of his growing despair, and he had to do something or he was surely to implode at the strength of it.
The box Rebecca had given him was still in his pocket and it received his rage, he threw it with all his might at the wall and it it the ground crumpled and opened.
Regret washed his rage away and he went onto his knees in front of it with shaking hands. He hadn't meant to break anything, he hadn't meant to open it early.
He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, trying to focus only on breathing to regain a fraction of control before he looked over the damage. He didn't expect this, he didn't expect to feel guilty about the stupid animal.
He didn't expect to feel badly because it was his fault, he hadn't listened and now a creature would be killed because of him.
When Draco picked up the box and found the gift underneath, his guilt only grew further.
It was his rendering, charmed down to the size of a charm and attached to a plain black chain. It was his dog, the one who had been sent away when it had been deemed unseemly and the one who had long passed without him.
It was the last thing in his home that had brought him happiness.
Draco climbed into his bed and wept openly, mourning what had been and what would never be again. Before he fell asleep, he put the chain around his neck and begged whoever could have been listening for the strength to ask his father in the morning.
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Rebecca had never thought magic was something that could be taken out and made into an entire home, but then again, she had never seen the Burrow at Christmas. Garland had been hung around the fireplace, around the stairs. Lights had been placed about, candles sending the shadows in the corners of room dancing away.
It left her speechless and while the others took note of the holiday cheer and continued on to talk with Bill and Charlie, Rebecca took it all in.
"Not too much, is it?" Arthur asked, leaning down beside her. "I tell you, we do have a tendency to-"
"It's perfect." Rebecca meant it, too. "May I be excused?"
"Of course." Arthur looked over his shoulder, taking stock of where everyone was. "Dinner probably won't take long."
Rebecca nodded, needing to get to the privacy of her and Ginny's room. The stairs creaked as they always did, but her escape went mostly unnoticed. Their room was as they left it and Rebecca only stopped when she found her way to their window.
"This is wrong, I shouldn't be here. I don't get Christmas. I'm going to mess this up, I'm going to ruin this, I don't deserve this."
Light knocking echoed through the room but didn't reach her in her overwhelmed worries.
"Rebecca?" Bill looked around the room, nodding in respect to the various Gryffindor-emblemed things on the walls. "Hey, you alright?"
Rebecca jumped at his hand meeting her shoulder and she whirled around in shock. "What?" She'd never heard him enter.
"I asked if you were alright. You look...preoccupied." Bill was concerned by how pale she was and by the attempted-to-be-hidden tremor of her hands. "What's wrong?"
"I-" Rebecca shook her head, taking a slow breath to try and stop the emotion from reaching her voice. "I don't-"
"That's okay too." Bill leaned against the wall next to the window, crossing his arms and looking out at the snow-blanketed garden. They were quiet for a while before Bill spoke again. "I can't begin to imagine some of the...things...you carry with you. But here? In the Burrow, at home? You never need to feel like no one's there."
Rebecca didn't look at him, keeping her eyes focused in the distance where she knew the tree house would be just as it had been years before. "I don't know if I should be here--If I get a Christmas."
"Why wouldn't you?" Bill asked, restraining the incredulousness he felt leak into his tone.
"Because..." Because she had never had one? Because Christmas wasn't something she ever did anything more than dream of having? A darker thought climbed to the front of her mind: Maybe she didn't think she deserved one because no one had ever treated her as if she was worthy of everything around her--A home, a family, love. "Because."
"Because isn't an answer." Bill refuted, shaking his head. If he could, he'd take everything from her. Everything that she had gone through, everything keeping her from being entirely in the moment. "Come now, dinner's nearly ready and mum wants to see everyone."
"I'm sorry." Rebecca murmured, moving to walk ahead of him.
"Hey," He caught her arm, turning her towards him. "You don't need to be sorry. Christmas can be a hard time of year." Bill sat on the edge of her bed and let go of her wrist as she did the same. "Everyone's in one place, it's extra loud, the food."
"What's wrong with the food?"
Bill grinned. "There's so much of it!" A little bit of the tightness around his heart lessened when she laughed with him. "But we don't have to worry about any of that because we're all here, we're all together. Okay? Don't let yourself cause any troubles. If anything, don't let Fred and George know. Merlin, those two are practically scheduling breaths for you three."
"What?" Rebecca's eyes widened. They hadn't mentioned anything.
"Something about making this the 'perfect Christmas.'" Bill closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "You didn't know about that, did you?"
"I did." Rebecca tried weakly.
"Well," Bill stood up and he motioned for her to follow him. "All the same, now you have to follow along their silly little plan or else they'll know that you know."
Rebecca followed him closely, the smells of dinner meeting them at the bottom of the stairs and the conversations of those already at the table close behind. She was so busy trying to put her anxiety and doubts away that she didn't notice Bill's nod to Fred and George--For the best, really. She would have put it together eventually.
Bill, the best keeper of secrets out of all the Weasley children, would never have let such an accident slip.
Unless, of course, he had been asked to.
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Hardly half a day had passed since the others had left, but the castle seemed far too empty to Harry and Hermione. Down in the library, they were surrounded in a half-circle of books on different sections of wizard law.
"Listen to this, 'if the creature is to be found of unsound mind, the crime cannot be punished!'" Harry looked to Hermione excitedly. "All we have to do is prove that Buckbeak is unsound!"
Hermione pursed her lips, setting her book down gently. This had not been the first time he had had such a solution. "Harry, I'm not sure about you, but I'm not a hippogriff psychiatrist!" Harry returned his attention to his books sadly. He knew it was a long shot, but there wasn't anything else. "I'm sorry. That was harsh."
"No, you're right." Harry closed his book. "We've read these already. We're not going to find an answer where there isn't one."
"We have to have missed something." Hermione closed her book too, seeing that there was nothing more they could do that evening. "Ready for supper?"
Harry nodded, finding that the stress of no immediate solution for Buckbeak was pushed back with the monotony of returning their books and further sent away with the laughter-filled conversation they ended up in on their way to the Great Hall.
"Is it always this empty?!" Hermione gasped, looking around. The tables weren't separated by houses as only a handful from each had stayed. Instead, the tables closest to the professors were sat on with abandon and dinner was scooped between them all cheerfully.
Harry looked over the number, shaking his head. "No, I think there's a few more here than last year actually." He saw how Hermione's face fell and kicked himself--This was different for her, someone who had family-Christmases to miss. "But don't worry, it can be really fun staying." Harry lowered his voice. "Wait until Christmas dinner. Last year, Dumbledore had so much to drink he ended up singing carols on the table!"
There was a chuckle behind them and they turned quickly. Behind a long, grey beard and half-moon spectacles, there was a very amused head master. "Yes, I'm afraid I do have a history of letting the festivities over take me."
Harry's face went bright red at being overheard and Hermione laughed with Dumbledore.
"A letter was delivered to my office by accident, along with a very solid strike into my window." Dumbledore reached into his sleeve and pulled out Rebecca's familiar handwriting. "A letter addressed to you two. Happy supper."
Hermione opened it quickly, sitting down beside Harry and putting it between them.
"I miss you and xxxxxx" Whatever had been written had been scratched out. "I just hope you two are having a great day.
Love, Rebecca"
"We'll write back to her after supper." Harry patted the letter twice and slipped it into his pocket. Writing back to her, it turned out, had been the most exciting part of their evening. They ate and returned to linger by the fire--where they stayed until they retired to their separate bedrooms and found that the silence seemed all the more heavy without their roommates to battle it away.
That was how Harry ended up with the Marauder's Map in his lap. Boredom and loneliness.
He noted how Hermione was pacing in her room, no doubt holding another law book up and looking for something they had missed. The rest of the castle was resting. The ghosts moved about as they pleased and the occasional teacher walked an empty corridor on patrol. But for the most part, all was still.
"Peter Pettigrew?" Harry breathed in shock. The only name moving down the corridor at the end of the page was someone who'd died years before, died at the hands of Sirius Black. "What is he-What?"
Harry turned the page and found nothing, the name was gone.
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"Okay, here's what we have planned today. First..." Fred was speaking so quickly and so directly after he and George had woken Rebecca up, she had more questions than she was capable of wording at the moment. "Don't worry, we know: It's early. Tea is next to your glasses when you're ready. Hurry up and come down stairs!"
George raced after Fred, leaving Rebecca and Ginny's room as quiet as it should have been the first morning of holiday.
"If you don't get up and meet them, they're going to come back." Ginny groaned, sitting up and scowling. "And if they come back, I'll have to strangle you."
"Message received." Rebecca said, standing and stretching. If there was one thing she had learned after living with Ginny, it was that mornings were not to be interrupted light-heartedly.
"Oh good!" Fred gasped, seeing how Rebecca was already wearing a jumper. "First we're going to-"
"Take a breath?" Arthur interrupted. "Boys, a little too much a little too early. You know your mother wants to make cookies after lunch, don't sprint through the morning."
Fred and George looked particularly down-hearted after their light chastising and Rebecca sat down to breakfast trying to think of what she could offer. "We could go outside?"
"In the cold?" George asked.
"That's a brilliant idea!" Fred jumped onto the suggestion eagerly. "We can build a snowman, or-"
"Go get your coat, Fred." Arthur interrupted again, turning the page on the Daily Prophet without looking at his son. If he did, he was sure to laugh. He remembered being young, too. "And make sure you all wear your hats, it is rather chilly out."
Fred and George tore out of the room and left Rebecca and Arthur to finish their breakfast.
"Anything on him?" Rebecca nodded to the cover, a picture of Sirius Black. "Sightings?"
"No, not yet." Arthur folded the paper and put it on the chair next to him so that Rebecca had his complete attention. "But don't you worry about that. Okay? Especially not when you're-" Arthur sighed as Fred and George ran down the stairs loudly in the morning quiet. "When you're preoccupied with festivities."
"Will you tell me if something is found?" Rebecca asked, willing to consider dropping the subject if Arthur said yes.
"Of course." Arthur shooed the three of them out of the room, their breakfasts eaten and their noise growing. "Now, where was I?"
"Arthur?!" Molly's voice from back in their room drew a sigh out of the man.
"Coming!"
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Draco rubbed at his jaw gently. Despite the fact that his mother had forbidden it, he had brought up rescinding their case against the hippogriff to his father and he had paid for it.
Paid for it as he had paid for many other mistakes over the years. It wasn't the first time the cane his father carried with him had left him mottled with bruises and he knew it wouldn't be the last, but it still left him hurting.
Christmas was days away and then it would only be two more weeks until he could get back to school. Two more weeks.
It seemed too far.
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"You don't use magic to make them?" Rebecca asked as Molly measured out the ingredients into the bowl in front of them.
"No, love!" Molly flicked some of the flour at her, laughing. "This is all part of the fun!"
"Fun." Ron repeated boredly. "Not if you're starving."
"You are far from starving, Ronald." Molly gave him a look, daring him to rush their holiday time. "Now, Rebecca, go ahead and pour this in."
"All of this?" Rebecca eyed the amount in the bowl. "How much are we making?"
"Enough." Molly smiled. "We've got to have enough to last until Christmas and you've seen how sweets get gobbled right up."
Soon, they had a little assembly line set up. Fred and George were in charge of rolling the dough Molly put in front of them flat. Ginny and Ron were pushing the shapes out. Percy was in charge of getting them in and out of the over.
And Rebecca? Rebecca was kept right at Molly's side as a helper where she was laughing and hopping from job to job when Molly asked her to make sure everything was going well.
"Don't let those cookies burn, Percy!" Molly called, smelling a tinge of smoke. "And Fred? If I see you eat one more piece of-Oh, you're going to get it one day!"
"Oops." Rebecca ate the last little piece she had pinched off the ball of dough and sheepishly moved across the kitchen to check on Ron and Ginny.
"All of you are going to end up ill!" Molly warned, shaking her head.
Fred pinched off another piece, motioning to Rebecca to be ready.
Rebecca shook her head, not wanting to sully the memories being made with another scolding. Fred raised an eyebrow, bringing his hand back a little and getting ready to throw it. Right as he let go and Rebecca leaned forward to catch it, Molly turned around.
"What is-What was that?" She asked, holding the spoon she had been holding up.
Rebecca froze, her mind went blank.
"Bug!" George said quickly. "Nasty little bugger, can't have it near the cookies."
"Ah yes, that's Rebecca." Fred chimed in. "Practically a venus flytrap."
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"I'm begging you, just go to bed."
"Ginny, I-" Rebecca paused at the end of her bed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were already asleep."
"How can I? You're quiet, but you're still pacing like a bloody loon!" Ginny sat up, moving so that there was a spot next to her for Rebecca. "What's wrong? Tomorrow's Christmas eve, you're going to-" Rebecca pulled the canvas she had made of the Burrow, the first time she had seen the Burrow, up from where she had been holding it at her side and placed it on Ginny's lap. "Oh Merlin!"
"What does that mean?" Rebecca asked nearly desperate.
"What does-Are you bloody kidding me?" Ginny groaned, throwing her head back. "I'm never going to be the best at anything."
"I'm not playing!" Rebecca couldn't look at the rendering she'd managed, not a second longer. Not a single second-plagued-by-uncertainty longer. "One second answer: would your mum and dad-"
"Yes."
Rebecca frowned. "You didn't even let me finish the question."
Ginny moved the rendering off of their legs, setting it off her bed gently so nothing could happen to it and looking at Rebecca a moment. She saw what the others did sometimes too, what Molly and Arthur saw the most: Ginny saw the depths to which Rebecca had been damaged and hurt. "Mum and dad don't care how good anything is. They don't care how perfect or well-done something is made. That's not what matters."
"What does?" Rebecca pleaded. She wanted to know so that she could give it to them, the two who had made their house her home and taken her in--Showed her what life was supposed to be like. "Whatever it is, I want them to have it."
"It's about the thought and the effort." Ginny said gently. "What's really the matter?" It didn't matter that Ginny was a year younger, some things were so clear anyone could see them. Besides Ron, Ginny figured. "And don't lie."
"I don't. Lie, that is." Rebecca sighed. "I've never given an adult a gift. It's different."
"Different how?" Ginny giggled.
"Different!" Rebecca scowled, though it didn't last. She was soon laughing with Ginny in the silence of a sleeping Burrow. "Can I-"
"Of course." Ginny turned the lamp back off and found herself ready for the holiday to arrive. "Are you ready to decorate the cookies tomorrow?"
"Yes!" Rebecca laughed. "If they taste anywhere near as good as they did uncooked cooked..."
"'Venus flytrap.'" Ginny quoted, sending them both into giggles again. Giggling and chatting was how they went to sleep the night before Christmas eve.
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Author's Note:
A bit of jumping around, a bit more than I like to be honest. It seemed to be pretty smooth divisions though.
<3