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It was with great sadness that he gathered children from every year and every house. All those who had family that worked in the building were gathered in the Great Hall to await news with the others in their family. While Dumbledore considered limiting friends to go along, he realized the support would be needed. He rather thought Ronald Weasley would more than anyone need his friends to keep calm while his family waited news of his father. The silence in the Great Hall was stifling. Everywhere you looked were tight little family groups, huddled together; waiting. The once boisterous Weasley family was seated along a portion of benches in the corner, with another bench dragged to form a blocked off section that still allowed everyone to both survey the room and watch the door. Molly had situated herself in the corner, her family surrounding her on all sides. Percy was directly to her right, holding her hand, and making calming reassurances that no one but he paid attention to. He worked in a different building, and had been politely, but firmly told to stay out of the way, and go wait with his family. To his right was Ginny, who had quickly cried herself to sleep in her mother’s arms before being moved into Bill’s lap. Fred and Lee Jordan filled out the rest of the bench. Lee had a firm arm around Fred’s shoulders. Fred himself was alternately delving into the skin between Lee’s shoulder and neck, and shaking his head as though to deny what was happening. The biggest surprise was George. He was curled up along his mother’s left side, head in her lap, and openly sobbing. She was absently patting his head, murmuring softly, and gazing fixedly at the door. Hermione was next, who had Ron in a hard hug, his head resting on her shoulder, and his breaths matching hers rhythmically. Harry was on his other side, worrying, and feeling largely useless. Except that Charlie would suddenly grab his hand in a fierce grip, as to assure himself that this was reality. It might not have been comforting, but it was contact. Harry was also busy looking over the rest of the Great Hall. The Patil twins were with a man who could have been their older brother or could have been their father. Regardless he sat between the two and gripped each of their hands fiercely, while he seemed to be in prayer. Susan Bones seemed to be taking care of Hannah Abbott and her family. At the moment she was hurrying over with steaming goblets. Harry hoped they were some sort of restoring draught. Hannah’s mother seemed to in danger of hurting herself with her racketing sobs. And Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was sitting to himself on a single chair pushed against the wall at a relatively short distance from the Weasleys. There were a rather large number of Slytherins scattered throughout the room, but he didn’t appear inclined to sit with any of them. His face was a blank mask, which surprised Harry. Malfoy generally had a problem with hiding anything from being expressed. Anger, glee, a good plot; they all showed in face and actions. ‘Maybe he’s numb from his first actual worry in this world.’ It was rather uncharitable, but Harry didn’t care at the moment. The door opened and the first person stepped through. A Ministry official, robes freshly pressed, carried a dark envelope towards the Abbott family. Without opening the letter, Mrs. Abbott began to shriek in earnest. First her husband more than a dozen years earlier with Voldemort’s first reign. Now her darling baby son. Dead. Gone. With that lone entrance, the hall was suddenly busy with movement as more officials came with more death certificates. And then there was a wave of people who had been relatively unscathed. One man, who was missing an eyebrow, though that looked to be an old injury, stopped by their small group to tell Molly that he had heard of Arthur’s arrival at St. Mungo’s, but didn’t know anything more, not even if he had been alive when he was brought in. He walked quickly away, headed towards the opposite side of the room. He was intercepted by Malfoy. “Excuse me sir. Did you hear anything about my father? Lucius Malfoy?” The man didn’t even pause as he sidestepped around the young boy, continuing on his way without a word or a gesture. Harry saw Malfoy’s eyes close, and that he took one hard swallow as though there was something blocked there, before his mask of numb unawareness returned. He returned to his seat without another sound. A second wave of officials brought another wave of death certificates, and another wail of grief swelled up. It was just as silence returned that a man walked through, head bent, red hair dulled, but shinning. There were only two groups waiting by this point. The Weasley family, and Draco Malfoy. There was no doubt which this man belonged to. “Dad!’ ‘Da!’ DADDY!’ ‘Arthur!” The Weasley family itself easily matched the noise level the first group of survivors to arrive was received with. The group launched itself out of the corner and from behind the table, meeting him halfway along the wall. There were hugs and kisses and frantic exclamations. George adamantly denied that he had any doubt his father would be anything but completely alright. Fred announced his imminent engagement to Lee. Ron had impulsively kissed Hermione in joy, and then went back again with surprise. The whole family was so relieved they were barely able to avoid jostling Arthur’s braced arm. It was in the die-down of this bustle that Harry noticed Malfoy was standing, watching them with his careful lack of expression. He had obviously jumped up when Arthur had entered, and hadn’t sat again. Most of the people who had received death notices had left to sort people and plans out. Those whose families were now reunited had remained and were now looking on with sympathy and pity. Malfoy was oblivious, his sight had already turned to watch the door again, though he was to tense now to sit. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. I suppose I should…” “What Arthur?” “It’s just that-” Narcissa Malfoy chose that moment to enter the hall, her cloak flowing behind her in a show of style rather than practicality in this winter weather. Arthur cut himself off, watching her as she made her way into the room with slow, stately steps. Draco took a handful of steps towards her, all in quick succession. Just as quickly, he started backwards. Whatever he saw in her face made him retreat, then freeze. In the space of a heartbeat his whole countenance changed. His blank mask settled into lines of grief; eyes closing painfully, mouth tightening to suppress emotion, his shoulders and neck suddenly not supporting. He was motionless, breath stilling, until his mother arrived at his side. Narcissa would prove herself stronger than even she though by the close of the hour. She wrapped her arms firmly around him, and breathed into his hair, “I’m so sorry.” He went uncontrollable. His arms were pinned at his sides between their bodies, but he managed to get one up between them and tried his hardest to inflict damage with it. His legs however were perfectly free, and he kicked out. Narcissa kept her arms locked into place around him without complaint. “No. No. No. No no no. No!” It was like his mantra, repeating over and over. He didn’t seem to tire as he continued to beat wildly and state his order. When he finally quieted the hall had fallen into an expected silence. If they were waiting for Narcissa to impart words of wisdom to her son, they were in for a long wait. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to deal with any of this. Arthur Weasley knew he would have to complete what he had started earlier though. It was with another quick hug to his wife that he headed over to pick up the pieces of someone else’s life. He situated himself just into the personal space of the Malfoy’s and touched Draco’s shoulder. His head whipped up, and for one second there was a look of hope on his face before it completely broke into anguish. Harry had found it odd that he didn’t cry when Mr. Weasley had entered, as the rest of the group did. But now he understood. He had been saving his tears for this pain. Trying to dispel his regret for the touch, Arthur cleared his throat, directing his comments more towards Draco than Narcissa. “As you know, I worked in the same building as Lucius. Despite any past actions he may or may not have committed, I can honestly say that today he proved himself to be one of the bravest men I have met. Well, stubborn to the end at any rate. We were both left on ground floor, directing people out. As you well know, your father considered the whole of the ministry to be his, but quite specifically our building. Those were his people. And he was not going to abandon them. At the very end, before it collapsed, he sent me on. And he gave me these to give to you.” Here he took a pendant from his neck. There was the Malfoy family crest hanging on its chain, and also slid onto the chain were a wedding ring and the family sigil. “He knew he wouldn’t be leaving that building. But his last thoughts were of his family. You should be very proud.” While Arthur had been talking, Draco had slowly turned his face from his mother’s shoulder. He now stood with the barest of spaces between them, one arm still slung around him. Only one half of the room could see his reaction; eyes dark in pain with tears starting to well. His lips were no longer tightly suppressing his tears, they were trembling with emotion. Everyone could hear his reply, which was more or less clear. “Well tha-that’s good. At. At least I ssstilll have. My pride.” There was more than a hint of self mockery in that statement, but it went largely unchecked as Draco immediately fell into chocking sobs. “Why didn’t he just let them die?” The words were indiscernible to those outside their group. The plaintive wail that followed was filled with so great a pain that it came as no surprise when Draco collapsed. Arthur caught him rather awkwardly for having only one workable arm. He sank a little himself until both he and Draco were on their knees, Arthur resting more on his haunches, Draco supported completely by him. But Draco’s head fit perfectly into the crook of robe and neck, and there was a warm, strong arm wrapped around him. Narcissa kneeled herself, and place her hands on his shoulders. Arthur moved his arm to include her into the embrace, and she allowed herself one small sob. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment? I do believe your father needs a helping hand. At least until that arm heals.” With that Molly Weasley went to wrap her arms around the other side of the kneeling group. It was a while before Draco drifted into teary sleep, and Narcissa lifted her head, looking into Molly’s eyes over her husband’s head. “I don’t know what to do.” The voice was nearly as lost as her son’s had been. It brought Molly swiftly into reality. “You will wrap that cloak securely around you.” Getting somewhat stiffly to her knees, Molly motioned to Ron, Hermione, and Harry. “Hermione, please retrieve your cloak and anything you’ll need for the week. Harry, if you could pack something for Ron and yourself? And Ron, I do believe Mal-Draco’s cloak is over where he was sitting, if you would please. Arthur Darling, you stay there with Draco. I’m sure Charlie can carry him when it’s time to leave. I will just go speak with Dumbledore.” That night found Fred, George, and Lee in one of the twin’s beds. Percy, Bill, and Charlie were cramped into the other. Hermione and Ginny were in Ginny’s room, with Narcissa Malfoy in Percy’s room. And protectively kept between Ron and Harry was Draco Malfoy. A month ago he would have been horrified to find himself sharing a bed with Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. A week ago he would have been humiliated to have them know he slept with his fuzzy green snake Soothy and sucked his thumb still. A day ago he would have been disgusted to wake with the discovery that Harry Potter had become part of the Soothy hug, and Ron’s fingers were intricately entwined with the fingers used for holding his thumb in his mouth. But that would have been before. |