An Aeolian Song, D/G, one-shot
FYI: Aeolian processes (sometimes spelled without the ‘A’) refer to wind activity, in particular a wind’s ability to shape surfaces. An Aeolian Harp is a musical instrument played by the wind.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Even at the height of summer, it was not unusual for the Scottish skies to be dark and grey - filled with heavy clouds threatening rain and misery. Draco kept looking up at the ominous canopy, hoping it would hold for a few hours more. Teddy was at his hip, bundled and swathed in layers of wool that kept him warm against the chilling wind but the material would surely swell with water in seconds should the heavens open up on them. They could always turn back, but Teddy had begged to come to this and despite his reservations, Draco wanted to be at the ceremony as well.
He walked past it at first but soon realized and doubled back. Adjusting his grip on Teddy, he knocked three times against the dingy window. A blue eye twinkled at him from the other side.
“Ah, young Mr. Malfoy,” grunted a man hidden behind a mass of grey hair. “I wasn’t sure if you would come this year.”
“I thought it was about time I did,” he shrugged.
“Left your wand behind?”
“As the rules told me to.”
The man grunted again. “About time you started following the rules.”
When Draco failed to rise to the bait, Aberforth Dumbledore nodded with grudging approval and opened the door wider. “Welcome back to Hogsmeade, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco took a deep breath before he stepped over the threshold. He never frequented the Hog’s Head when he was a student but he felt the burden of his Hogwarts memories crash over him all the same in the dimness of the dingy pub. He stopped in the middle of the room, feeling the past grasp at his ankles even though it was just old dirt he kicked up as he was shuffling in. Teddy had fallen quiet beside him and his slight weight didn’t register in Draco’s mind as his inner eye took over. But before Draco could fall too far in, Aberforth picked up a nearby broom and poked him with the stick end of it.
“Hey!”
“Time to get on with you now,” Aberforth muttered thickly, using the broom to push Draco out the pub’s other door. “Can’t be standing in the past forever you know.”
Before Draco could say another word, he was tossed out into the old familiar streets of the magical village. The door behind him slammed shut, causing the entire building to shake. Teddy turned to him, his blue eyes wide. “Uncle Draco, he doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
~*~*~
He had purposely left late so he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew from his Hogwarts days. Of course, he would see them there but at least, until then he could have some peace. It was just him and Teddy and they could tell silly jokes to one another and sing songs and he could pretend that he was sitting in the garden in southern France instead of heading to the place where it all started and ended.
Only, he was never that good at pretending. Instead of enjoying his time with Teddy, he remained tight-lipped while the boy talked about each tree they passed. There was a story, the boy told him, behind every tree.
There was a story behind everything, Draco thought, as they emerged from the forest. From their vantage point, they could see the entire expanse of Hogwarts - the castle, the Quidditch pitch, the lake. And there, as the ground dipped towards the water were bright banners and a scatter of dots - old friends and enemies, united, to pay respect to those who had sacrificed their lives for the war. Draco looked at Teddy. He had stopped mid-tree story to look at the view too. His face was flush and eager, his eyes bright, his grin lopsided - like Draco’s. He had learned it from the blond after all. “It’s so cool, Uncle Draco. I don’t know why you don’t come every year.”
Draco shifted Teddy from one hip to the other as he wiped his clammy palms on his trousers. He was supposed to come with Aunt Andy when he was ready. He wasn’t ready, but she had come down with Dragon Pox this year and the thought of his mother or father taking Teddy to the ceremony had seemed so ridiculous he had said he could do it. Teddy had jumped up and down in excitement. His parents had sighed in relief.
“I don’t know,” he replied and started his descent down the hill.
The crowd was oppressive - for which, Draco was partially glad. He was lost in the sea, just another wizard arching his head up to catch a glimpse of the ceremony. Teddy had been sitting on his shoulders but he had gotten restless so Draco was now holding the boy close against him, keeping his elbows out to keep them from being crushed. But Teddy didn’t seem to notice the invasion of his person space. He kept looking about, his hands on Draco’s shoulders. He ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’ along with everyone else at the displays of magic - the phoenix flaming across the sky, the water memorial rising from the lake.
Draco, however, found himself frowning now and again. Not just because of the crowding but also, because of the borderline showiness of it all. Of course this wasn’t just about remembering the dead but celebrating the present and the future but he felt all the colors, noise - the artifice - masked the fact that all wounds had yet to heal. Surely, he couldn’t be the only one that was proof of that.
Draco reached under his collar for a moment and traced the raised skin that circled his neck. Sometimes it itched. It didn’t right now - he just wanted to feel it, feel the reality of it as everyone around him began cheering enthusiastically as the ceremony came to a close and the sky erupted in bursts of light. Though it was cool today, even at the height of summer, Draco would wear his coat buttoned up to the top, to hide the angry red lines that ran across his neck. No one had told him that when a wizard tried to commit suicide, his scars would forever brand him as a coward that didn’t value his life. Of course, at the time, he wasn’t thinking of permanent marks - it was ironic, really, that he had made it out of the war without one but now he had several and he had to live with that.
“Wasn’t that a wicked show, Uncle Draco?”
Teddy was bouncing now and Draco had to use both arms to hold him up. “Yeah. Maybe we can do something like that for your birthday next year.”
“Really?” The wizard’s eyes widened in glee.
Draco nodded. It would be far more appropriate, he thought, as he stumbled forward, pushed every which way by the crowd. This was the part of the ceremony he had wanted to come for - not the lights and show but the Casting, the final part of the ceremony that not everyone stayed around for.
Each wizard and witch - if they so desired - could grab a fistful of Hogwarts soil and toss it towards the lake to commemorate those lost to the war, those who sacrificed everything for the future. As the wind carried it over the water, it transfigured into an expression of each individual’s sorrow, hope, love, regret, whatever it was they felt. Teddy told him that last year, dozens of doves had sprung from his aunt’s hands. Draco knew from his mother that the first year, the dirt had not transfigured into anything at all.
He didn’t know what his handful would transfigure into. Back in Transfiguration with McGonagall, they had learned that to change one object to another, you had to imagine the actual process of the change. You had to see the teapot’s handle uncurl and become a mouse’s tail, the spout shortening and rounding into a snout. As Draco neared the front and looked at the brown mud before him, he knew that this wouldn’t be the same. For one thing, Teddy could do this and he didn’t know the theory behind Transfiguration yet. Also, if this was supposed to be an expression of something deep within him, Draco had skirted self-analysis for too long to know what he truly felt. There were spells you had to mean to cast and there were spells you had to see - like Transfiguration - to complete. This was probably more like Animagus Transfiguration - which required the careful and complex act of fusing two different branches of magic - but somehow simplified to allow any wizard or witch to Cast. It was likely the work of Hermione Granger, Draco mused.
But that didn't mattered. What mattered was he wanted to know, he wanted to know what he would Cast when he sent the soil of his childhood to the wind and thought of Snape and Crabbe and Dumbledore and innocence and failure and redemption.
“Malfoy.”
It was Potter. And his crew, of course - Granger, Weasley, Longbottom. Oddly enough, they looked the same. In looks too, but mostly, in their mannerisms, in the way they were clustered together, looking suspiciously at him, unarmed with a child in his arms.
Draco nodded at each of them, almost asking Granger if this was her handiwork. For some reason, it felt easy to face them now that he was before them. He imagined it was easier than facing others he had avoided for too long - fellow Slytherins and the occasional Ravenclaw that he spent his school days with. There was no reason he should’ve kept in touch with Gryffindors, no explanations required, no small talk needed.
But of course, Potter and crew wanted an explanation. “What are you doing here? What’s Teddy doing with you?”
“Uncle Draco came with me today!” Teddy chimed in brightly.
“I can see that,” Harry replied uneasily, scratching the back of his head, wondering why his godson seemed so happy while with Malfoy of all people.
A redhead girl stepped up. Draco hadn’t noticed here before. She held her arms out. “Teddy, why don’t you come with us? We were just about to Cast.”
She dropped her arms when Teddy shook his head emphatically. “But this is Uncle Draco’s first time. I want to do it together. Don’t you?” Teddy turned to him, his face eager as always, all smiles and chubby cheeks. Draco knew his nephew - cousin, technically - was attached to him but his display of loyalty and affection over others surprised him so much that he didn’t even think of his audience as he leaned in and kissed Teddy on the crown of his head. Teddy’s smile broadened even more. Draco usually reserved this when he put him to bed at night, in the dark after everyone else had gone to sleep.
Draco turned back to the redhead and gave her an apologetic smile. She looked baffled for a moment but she smiled back. As he adjusted his hold on Teddy and headed down to the dirt shore, he looked back only once. She was still looking at them.
He placed Teddy on the ground beside him and slowly reached down to grab a fistful of dirt. It was slightly damp but not so much that some of it didn’t slip through his fingers. He looked up at the sky. The weather was holding. Had held. They would be okay. “Ready?”
Teddy nodded, his small fist clutching onto the same damp dirt he held.
“At the same time, okay?”
“Okay.”
And Draco Cast his lot to the wind. White rose petals immediately danced from his fingertips, circling him and Teddy for a moment before the wind directed the crisp petals out over the lake. Draco stood and watched them disappear into the horizon, the sun low and rippling through the water. He then picked Teddy up, feeling at peace and possibly, not unhappy.
A/N: Was that teensy D/G interaction enough to list it under the ship? Probably not but it’s enough to be DH-compliant while still retaining the potential to break set boundaries. I hope this pleases both sisters and motivates them to WRITE and POST on this site. *nudge, nudge*
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Even at the height of summer, it was not unusual for the Scottish skies to be dark and grey - filled with heavy clouds threatening rain and misery. Draco kept looking up at the ominous canopy, hoping it would hold for a few hours more. Teddy was at his hip, bundled and swathed in layers of wool that kept him warm against the chilling wind but the material would surely swell with water in seconds should the heavens open up on them. They could always turn back, but Teddy had begged to come to this and despite his reservations, Draco wanted to be at the ceremony as well.
He walked past it at first but soon realized and doubled back. Adjusting his grip on Teddy, he knocked three times against the dingy window. A blue eye twinkled at him from the other side.
“Ah, young Mr. Malfoy,” grunted a man hidden behind a mass of grey hair. “I wasn’t sure if you would come this year.”
“I thought it was about time I did,” he shrugged.
“Left your wand behind?”
“As the rules told me to.”
The man grunted again. “About time you started following the rules.”
When Draco failed to rise to the bait, Aberforth Dumbledore nodded with grudging approval and opened the door wider. “Welcome back to Hogsmeade, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco took a deep breath before he stepped over the threshold. He never frequented the Hog’s Head when he was a student but he felt the burden of his Hogwarts memories crash over him all the same in the dimness of the dingy pub. He stopped in the middle of the room, feeling the past grasp at his ankles even though it was just old dirt he kicked up as he was shuffling in. Teddy had fallen quiet beside him and his slight weight didn’t register in Draco’s mind as his inner eye took over. But before Draco could fall too far in, Aberforth picked up a nearby broom and poked him with the stick end of it.
“Hey!”
“Time to get on with you now,” Aberforth muttered thickly, using the broom to push Draco out the pub’s other door. “Can’t be standing in the past forever you know.”
Before Draco could say another word, he was tossed out into the old familiar streets of the magical village. The door behind him slammed shut, causing the entire building to shake. Teddy turned to him, his blue eyes wide. “Uncle Draco, he doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
~*~*~
He had purposely left late so he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew from his Hogwarts days. Of course, he would see them there but at least, until then he could have some peace. It was just him and Teddy and they could tell silly jokes to one another and sing songs and he could pretend that he was sitting in the garden in southern France instead of heading to the place where it all started and ended.
Only, he was never that good at pretending. Instead of enjoying his time with Teddy, he remained tight-lipped while the boy talked about each tree they passed. There was a story, the boy told him, behind every tree.
There was a story behind everything, Draco thought, as they emerged from the forest. From their vantage point, they could see the entire expanse of Hogwarts - the castle, the Quidditch pitch, the lake. And there, as the ground dipped towards the water were bright banners and a scatter of dots - old friends and enemies, united, to pay respect to those who had sacrificed their lives for the war. Draco looked at Teddy. He had stopped mid-tree story to look at the view too. His face was flush and eager, his eyes bright, his grin lopsided - like Draco’s. He had learned it from the blond after all. “It’s so cool, Uncle Draco. I don’t know why you don’t come every year.”
Draco shifted Teddy from one hip to the other as he wiped his clammy palms on his trousers. He was supposed to come with Aunt Andy when he was ready. He wasn’t ready, but she had come down with Dragon Pox this year and the thought of his mother or father taking Teddy to the ceremony had seemed so ridiculous he had said he could do it. Teddy had jumped up and down in excitement. His parents had sighed in relief.
“I don’t know,” he replied and started his descent down the hill.
The crowd was oppressive - for which, Draco was partially glad. He was lost in the sea, just another wizard arching his head up to catch a glimpse of the ceremony. Teddy had been sitting on his shoulders but he had gotten restless so Draco was now holding the boy close against him, keeping his elbows out to keep them from being crushed. But Teddy didn’t seem to notice the invasion of his person space. He kept looking about, his hands on Draco’s shoulders. He ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’ along with everyone else at the displays of magic - the phoenix flaming across the sky, the water memorial rising from the lake.
Draco, however, found himself frowning now and again. Not just because of the crowding but also, because of the borderline showiness of it all. Of course this wasn’t just about remembering the dead but celebrating the present and the future but he felt all the colors, noise - the artifice - masked the fact that all wounds had yet to heal. Surely, he couldn’t be the only one that was proof of that.
Draco reached under his collar for a moment and traced the raised skin that circled his neck. Sometimes it itched. It didn’t right now - he just wanted to feel it, feel the reality of it as everyone around him began cheering enthusiastically as the ceremony came to a close and the sky erupted in bursts of light. Though it was cool today, even at the height of summer, Draco would wear his coat buttoned up to the top, to hide the angry red lines that ran across his neck. No one had told him that when a wizard tried to commit suicide, his scars would forever brand him as a coward that didn’t value his life. Of course, at the time, he wasn’t thinking of permanent marks - it was ironic, really, that he had made it out of the war without one but now he had several and he had to live with that.
“Wasn’t that a wicked show, Uncle Draco?”
Teddy was bouncing now and Draco had to use both arms to hold him up. “Yeah. Maybe we can do something like that for your birthday next year.”
“Really?” The wizard’s eyes widened in glee.
Draco nodded. It would be far more appropriate, he thought, as he stumbled forward, pushed every which way by the crowd. This was the part of the ceremony he had wanted to come for - not the lights and show but the Casting, the final part of the ceremony that not everyone stayed around for.
Each wizard and witch - if they so desired - could grab a fistful of Hogwarts soil and toss it towards the lake to commemorate those lost to the war, those who sacrificed everything for the future. As the wind carried it over the water, it transfigured into an expression of each individual’s sorrow, hope, love, regret, whatever it was they felt. Teddy told him that last year, dozens of doves had sprung from his aunt’s hands. Draco knew from his mother that the first year, the dirt had not transfigured into anything at all.
He didn’t know what his handful would transfigure into. Back in Transfiguration with McGonagall, they had learned that to change one object to another, you had to imagine the actual process of the change. You had to see the teapot’s handle uncurl and become a mouse’s tail, the spout shortening and rounding into a snout. As Draco neared the front and looked at the brown mud before him, he knew that this wouldn’t be the same. For one thing, Teddy could do this and he didn’t know the theory behind Transfiguration yet. Also, if this was supposed to be an expression of something deep within him, Draco had skirted self-analysis for too long to know what he truly felt. There were spells you had to mean to cast and there were spells you had to see - like Transfiguration - to complete. This was probably more like Animagus Transfiguration - which required the careful and complex act of fusing two different branches of magic - but somehow simplified to allow any wizard or witch to Cast. It was likely the work of Hermione Granger, Draco mused.
But that didn't mattered. What mattered was he wanted to know, he wanted to know what he would Cast when he sent the soil of his childhood to the wind and thought of Snape and Crabbe and Dumbledore and innocence and failure and redemption.
“Malfoy.”
It was Potter. And his crew, of course - Granger, Weasley, Longbottom. Oddly enough, they looked the same. In looks too, but mostly, in their mannerisms, in the way they were clustered together, looking suspiciously at him, unarmed with a child in his arms.
Draco nodded at each of them, almost asking Granger if this was her handiwork. For some reason, it felt easy to face them now that he was before them. He imagined it was easier than facing others he had avoided for too long - fellow Slytherins and the occasional Ravenclaw that he spent his school days with. There was no reason he should’ve kept in touch with Gryffindors, no explanations required, no small talk needed.
But of course, Potter and crew wanted an explanation. “What are you doing here? What’s Teddy doing with you?”
“Uncle Draco came with me today!” Teddy chimed in brightly.
“I can see that,” Harry replied uneasily, scratching the back of his head, wondering why his godson seemed so happy while with Malfoy of all people.
A redhead girl stepped up. Draco hadn’t noticed here before. She held her arms out. “Teddy, why don’t you come with us? We were just about to Cast.”
She dropped her arms when Teddy shook his head emphatically. “But this is Uncle Draco’s first time. I want to do it together. Don’t you?” Teddy turned to him, his face eager as always, all smiles and chubby cheeks. Draco knew his nephew - cousin, technically - was attached to him but his display of loyalty and affection over others surprised him so much that he didn’t even think of his audience as he leaned in and kissed Teddy on the crown of his head. Teddy’s smile broadened even more. Draco usually reserved this when he put him to bed at night, in the dark after everyone else had gone to sleep.
Draco turned back to the redhead and gave her an apologetic smile. She looked baffled for a moment but she smiled back. As he adjusted his hold on Teddy and headed down to the dirt shore, he looked back only once. She was still looking at them.
He placed Teddy on the ground beside him and slowly reached down to grab a fistful of dirt. It was slightly damp but not so much that some of it didn’t slip through his fingers. He looked up at the sky. The weather was holding. Had held. They would be okay. “Ready?”
Teddy nodded, his small fist clutching onto the same damp dirt he held.
“At the same time, okay?”
“Okay.”
And Draco Cast his lot to the wind. White rose petals immediately danced from his fingertips, circling him and Teddy for a moment before the wind directed the crisp petals out over the lake. Draco stood and watched them disappear into the horizon, the sun low and rippling through the water. He then picked Teddy up, feeling at peace and possibly, not unhappy.
A/N: Was that teensy D/G interaction enough to list it under the ship? Probably not but it’s enough to be DH-compliant while still retaining the potential to break set boundaries. I hope this pleases both sisters and motivates them to WRITE and POST on this site. *nudge, nudge*