Nineteen Years Later, Part IV: Three Departures

[kanedax]

Title: Nineteen Years Later, Part IV: Three Departures
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows; Previous Chapters ( timeline)
Rating: PG for mild language
Characters: The Macmillans; The Malfoys; The Cullens (OC)
Summary: The first time apart is different for every family
Notes: Getting there…  For those who keep asking "Is this the end?  Is this the end?", I'll make it easy on the world: Two more after this one.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.

The Other Family / Previous Chapter / Granger Stubborn

"Well, this stinks," Ernie Macmillan grumbled as he looked around the platform.  "I could have sworn Benny had a son at Hogwarts."

"He still might," said Hannah Macmillan, Ernie's wife.  "Just because we haven't seen him doesn't mean he's not here.  Not that we could see anything in this mist."

"When's the last time you saw him, Dad?" asked Ernie's daughter, Kayla, as the three Macmillans walked along the length of the Hogwarts Express, Ernie pushing Kayla's trunk and cat on a cart.

"Lord, I don't know," Ernie said with a sharp exhale.  "Probably not since the Battle."

"Well, there you go," said Kayla.  "It's been twenty years.  For all you know, he could be bald or weighing thirty stone or missing a nose."

"I'd think I'd still be able to recognize him…"

"It's been twenty years," Kayla shrugged.  "He might not even be a he anymore."

"Cadwallader as a she," Ernie said with a shudder.  "Bad thought."

"Your daughter talks much sense," said Hannah, poking Ernie in the side.  "Besides, he's one person in a mass of over a hundred families.  We don't even know what his wife and son look like.  We don't even know their names.  And we barely even knew him when we were at school.  In fact, why are we looking so hard for him?"

"Networking, love."

"Right, of course," Hannah said with a bemused shake of the head.

"Ah, well," said Ernie, defeated.  "Did you get enough of a tour of the platform, Kayla?"

"Yes, sir," said Kayla giddily.  "Really great, thanks for showing me."

"Do we want to load here?  Or do you want to go find Rose first?"

"I should be fine here," said Kayla, looking up and down the length of the train.  "Rose said she'd save me a seat, so I can just wander until I find her.  Besides, I want to look around the train first, see if I can meet any more first years."

"Sounds like a fine plan," said Ernie, pushing the cart up to the side of the train and lifting the cage to the passenger car.  Kayla was an incredibly inquisitive girl, and Ernie was proud that he had a daughter who loved to learn through experience, and also loved to know as many people, and as much about them, as possible.

"I'll take Whiskers, though," said Kayla quickly, grabbing the cage from Ernie's hands.  "I don't want her to get lonely."

"She'll help you get to know more people, too, am I right?" Ernie said.

"That, too," said Kayla with a smile.

"Well, at the very least you'll learn who's allergic to dander," said Hannah.

"Always something to know," said Kayla.  "Just in case someone ends up in a room with me, I don't want her to be a bother."

"Of course," said Hannah.  "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," said Kayla, setting the cage down on the stone platform and giving her mother a hug.

"Safe journey," said Hannah, kissing her on the top of the head.

"Thanks, Mum," Kayla said into her mother's shoulder.

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

Kayla and Hannah released each other, and Kayla turned to her father, giving him another hug.

"Now you have a lot of fun, okay?"

"I will."

"Make lots of new friends."

"Of course I will," she said with a chuckle.

"And study hard."

"When don't I?"

He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.  "I love you, Kaylabee."

"Love you, too, Dad." Kayla said, blushing slightly at her father's baby name for her before turning around and climbing aboard the train.

"So what do you think?" Ernie asked, sticking his hands into his pockets as Kayla disappeared from sight.

"I think I want to go home and cry for a few hours," said Hannah, wiping her eyes.  "That's alright, isn't it?"

"Perfectly alright," said Ernie with a smile.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  "Do you want to stay to see her off?"

"I don't know if I can do it," Hannah smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Let's head home, then," said Ernie with a squeeze.  He removed his arm and, taking her hand, the two Macmillans, in love since their early days at Hogwarts, walked toward the barrier.

"I still wish I could find Cadwallader," Ernie muttered, continuing to squint through the haze.

"Five more years, love," said Hannah, chuckling.  "The odds are in your favor."

As they walked away from the train, Ernie noticed three figures standing in the mist nearby.  He stopped in his tracks and squinted.

"Good lord," he said quietly.  "Is that who I think it is?"

Hannah stopped and looked.  "Is that Malfoy?"

"I think it is," Ernie replied.  "Huh.  That's right, doesn't his son have the same birthday as Rose?"

"Good memory," said Hannah.  "Do you want to go say hello?  You know, network?"

"With Malfoy?" Ernie said with a snort.  "Please.  He's not worth the time.  Let's just head home."

"This is horrible," Hedda Malfoy sniffed as Draco lifted the trunk onto the train.  "Being seen in public, doing manual labor.  Work for servants..."

"We've made do for years, Hedda," Draco grunted.  "We'll still make do."

After the war, Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy had been cleared of all charges against them.  This was thanks in no small part to the efforts of Potter and his legion.  However, they had not gone unscathed.

It was Granger's brilliant idea, of course.  The Malfoys would be free, but they were forbidden to have any more house elves.  All elves under their employ were given the choice between freedom or donation to Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, or other charitable organizations.  And the Malfoys were forbidden to purchase any replacement elves.

It had been a long, hard slog those first few years.  Malfoy Manor was already in ruins because of the actions of Aunt Bellatrix and the werewolf Greyback.  So much of the Malfoy fortune had gone toward its repair that the family was unable to afford hiring a magical staff of witches and wizards to tend to their daily needs. Not that any wizard or witch worth their salt would reduce themselves to doing elf work.

The laundry piled up those first few years.  The dirt and dust piled up.  And the family spent more than a few nights eating cold sandwiches after their numerous culinary failures.  Lucius himself became notorious for burning water that he was trying to boil, and Narcissa had gotten lost more than once trying to find the kitchen.

But eventually, with a mental swift kick in the arse, the Malfoys pulled themselves together.  Just like they always did.

“Disgraceful,” Hedda sniffed. Hedda Gibbon, who was also born into some money, had been allowed to marry Draco because her mother knew that there was money to be had, enough to keep her daughter happy and healthy after the death of Viggo Gibbon.

Lucius and Narcissa deftly avoided any conversation about their lack of servants until after the marriage had taken place.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence."

Draco lifted his head at the sound of his wife’s sarcastic tone.  "Yes?"

Hedda tilted her head to the side, and Draco looked through the fog at the small group of figures a short distance away.  All of them were staring at him.  At first it took him a few moments, but then the pieces started falling into place.

The untidy black hair.  The glasses.

The scar.

It had been twenty years since Draco had last seen Harry Potter, who he had always considered his nemesis.  Twenty years since Potter and Weasley had saved him and Goyle from the Fiendfyre, despite the fact that Potter's hatred for Draco was just as palpable as his own. Draco had the scar from Harry’s Sectumsempra slashed across his chest to prove it.

Draco had done his best to repay the life debt that had been created that night. Created because of Crabbe’s stupidity.  But Potter, the Weasleys, and Granger (now a Weasley herself) turned down his offer.

Twenty years it had been since these two had faced each other.  Draco had avoided Potter at his wedding, as Potter had avoided him at his.  Might have been afraid of what would happen when they met.

Draco was personally afraid that the hatred would return at the sight of that scar.  He didn't want the hate to return.  The hate was born of his father, and of his father's master.

But the master, the Dark Lord, was dead now.

And so was the hatred.

In its place was simply...

"They think they're so wonderful," Hedda hissed.  Hedda Malfoy wasn't as self-centered as Draco's first girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson.  Having a father die in battle for a losing cause would humble most people.  But when it bubbled to the surface, it bubbled powerfully.  "Strutting about like they're God's Children.  It makes me..."

"Leave it, Hedda," said Draco quietly.

"Draco, I'm simply..."

"Leave it, Hedda," Draco said calmly.  "Leave them be."

Draco could hear Hedda suck in breath behind him, ready to start another tirade, but thankfully just let it out again as quiet air.  Draco was glad of it.  The last thing Scorpius needed was to hear the old line again.  Draco would let his son choose his friends and his enemies on his own, and not because his family told him which was which.

Hedda turned back to Scorpius to dote on him, their only son (the Malfoy tradition), and didn't see Draco give a short nod to Potter.

In the past I would have agreed with her, he thought.  Hell, in the past I would have started going off on them before she did.  But I stopped her.  I'm not that boy anymore.

The nod, and the note of acceptance that he saw behind the glasses, said that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were even.  And that was all.

"Now you be sure to write," said Hedda as Draco turned back to his wife and son.

"Of course, mother," said Scorpius.  He was trained to respect his elders, Draco knew that much.

"And-- Good Lord!"

Hedda jumped back as a young boy with bright red hair streaked past them and towards the Potters and Weasleys.

"One of the Weasleys, I assume," Hedda drawled with great distaste.

"No," said Draco.  "I think that's one of the Potters."

"How can you tell?"

"Mother," Draco replied, thinking back to Narcissa's discussion of her rare meetings with her only surviving relative.  "Andromeda has a picture on her mantle of the werewolf's boy with Potter and his children, mother told me.  Potter’s oldest is a redhead, and Weasley’s only boy is younger than Scorpius. So that’s probably a Potter."

"So many of them," said Hedda indignantly.  "It's not a wonder the Weasleys always had problems with money.  They don't know when to stop spitting them out."

"They do well enough," said Draco.  "I’ve heard Granger's going to be Shacklebolt's assistant soon.  Preening her for the Minister's position when he retires."

"Pathetic," Hedda said sickly.  "Having a Mudblood in charge of..."

"Leave it," Draco said again.  And, thankfully, she did.

"The train will be leaving soon," she said instead.

"Of course," Draco replied.  "I would like a word alone with Scorpius, if you would."

"Fine," Hedda said shortly.  "But I still get the last word."

As always.

Hedda stepped away, and Draco got down onto one knee.

"How much do you know about our situation, Scorpius?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean, father?"

"Our family," Draco continued.  "How much have you heard your grandparents talk of people's opinions of the Malfoys?"

"Well, that's easy," said Scorpius with a smile.  "The Malfoys are the strongest family there is.  Everyone knows that."

Draco sighed.  They had done their best to shield their son from the reality of social status for years.  But now that he was getting on that train...

"The Malfoys," he began slowly, "used to be powerful.  Respected.  Our influence and…  Well, anyone who crossed us was in trouble.  Do you understand?"

"Of course, father," said Scorpius.

"But that's not the way things are anymore," Draco said.  "The Malfoy name isn't what it used to be."

"Sir?"

"There are people who think we fought on the wrong side during the war," Draco continued carefully.  "People who will connect our names with the Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."  Even twenty years later he still had difficulty...  "And they won't be wrong.  Your grandfather, your father...  we did things that we're not proud of."

Scorpius remained silent, but his eyes widened at his father's admissions.

"And those who fought along with the Dark Lord see us as..."

Mother and Father running through the hundreds of dueling witches and wizards.  Running past them even as Neville Longbottom destroyed Nagini, even as Molly Weasley struck down Aunt Bellatrix, and even as Harry Potter met Lord Voldemort for the last time.

Running to him...

"...Well, we left them late in the war," he said.  "Our perspectives changed.  Our loyalties changed. Some would even say that we helped bring about the end of the war. The end of the Dark Lord.  And they wouldn't be wrong.

"You'll be at Hogwarts with children your age," Draco continued.  "They may not know the Malfoy name.  What it represented before, and what it represents now.  But some might.  And you may have your share of enemies because of it, even if you don't want them."

Scorpius's eyes widened more, and his already pale face went even whiter.  He took a nervous glance back at the train, as though it was suddenly a dragon waiting to swallow him whole.

"But that will change," Draco said, turning his son back to face him, "if you remember what your grandfather says.  Bear yourself well, Scorpius.  Remember who is the master of you.  Be true to yourself, respect yourself, and others will follow."

"Yes, sir," said Scorpius quietly.

"It's much more difficult to make friends than it is to make enemies," Draco continued.  "And it will take hard work to find out which is which."

Who cares what you think?  Crabbe echoed through his mind.  I don't take your orders no more, Draco.  You an' your dad are finished.

"But I have trust in you, son," he said, shaking off the voice from his past.  "You're a Malfoy.  And Malfoys still have the power to come out ahead in the end.  Do you understand?"

"I think so, sir."

"Good."  Draco Malfoy stood up and put his hand on his son's shoulder.  "Take care of yourself, Scorpius Hyperion.  Do well.  Make us proud."

"I'll try, father."

"Take care, dear," said Hedda, wrapping Scorpius in a hug.  "Write often."

"Yes, mother."

Scorpius adjusted his small pack, which contained his robes separate from the rest of his trunk, and climbed onto the train.

"We're sending him to the wolves, aren't we?" Hedda said with a sigh as Scorpius disappeared.

"Probably," said Draco.  "But he's a Malfoy.  If anyone has the power to defeat the wolves, it's him."

A woman with brown bushy hair approached them, and it took Draco a moment to recognize her as she walked swiftly between them and the train.

"Malfoy," Hermione Weasley said with a glance, not even slowing her step.

"Granger," Malfoy nodded in response as she passed.

Good Lord, the man formerly known as Dennis Creevey thought as she passed him.  Is that...?

Patrick Cullen tried to keep a straight face as Hermione Granger passed by him and his family.  When two others who claimed to know him had confronted the Cullens on the way into the station, Patrick was able to shrug it off.  He barely recognized them, anyway, and he hoped that Ellen and Meghan thought it was just a case of mistaken identity.

What was it? Bert?  Hayley?

Forget it, his mind retorted.  It's not worth the trouble.

But Hermione...

Along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Colin Creevey idolized Hermione Granger during his days at Hogwarts.  Which meant Colin’s younger brother idolized her, as well.  Patrick vaguely remembered fancying her once upon a time, when she was helping them learn how to fight…

Just proves how misled we were, he thought, and pulled him back to the situation at hand.

"Now I want you to listen to me carefully, Meghan," Patrick said seriously as Ellen stood behind him.  After Patrick feigned ignorance about passing through the barrier, eventually following another family onto Platform 9 3/4s, the trio now stood in front of the Hogwarts Express, Meghan's suitcase loaded safely.

"Dad, I know, alright?" Meghan Cullen sighed impatiently.  "You've already said it to me a hundred times in the past two days."

"But I mean it," he said, kneeling down.  "These people can be very dangerous.  I want you to be extremely careful, do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad," Meghan said with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me," he snapped, and pointed a warning finger at her face.  "If there is any trouble, and I mean any trouble, I want you to contact us immediately, do you understand?"

"Honestly, Patrick," Ellen sighed.  "You're going to give her a nervous breakdown if you keep up with all of this."

Patrick glanced at Meghan, who was anxiously looking at the train.  He could tell that she couldn't wait to depart, and realized how far away from a nervous breakdown his daughter was.

Oh, how he wished he could make her see...

"Keep your head down," he said quickly.  "And if anyone gives you any trouble, you just ignore them.  And contact us if..."

"Why are you so freaked out, Dad?" Meghan argued.  "You don't know anything about us!"

About us, she says, Patrick thought helplessly.  She's known she's a witch for two bloody days and it's already about us.

"I know enough," Patrick said.  "Those two men that visited...  I didn't like the look of them, that's all."

He was lying through his teeth.  He knew it.  His family was still unaware of his connection to the wizarding world, and he intended to keep it that way.

What connection?

Exactly.  There is no more connection.  So I have no reason to tell them who I used to be.

“But Neville and Dean were cool,” Meghan countered. “Dean was a Muggleborn, too. And Uri? She was so nice when were shopping, you should have been there...”

"If you want to leave," Patrick continued unabated.  "If you're feeling threatened, you can come home.  We can finish your primary schooling by ourselves and get you ready for high school next fall."

"Dad, I'll be fine," Meghan said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  "Now can you please stop lecturing me?  The train's leaving soon."

"Yes, Dad, that's enough," Ellen snapped, stepping forward.  "You have fun, dear.  Study hard."

Meghan smiled in relief as her Mum gave her a hug.  "I will."  At least someone was all right with this.

"I guess you get a Christmas holiday," Ellen said.  "So we'll see you then.  And we'll try to figure out this...  this owl thing in the meantime. Maybe write you a letter."

"Diagon Alley," said Meghan, playfully tugging the Muggle Charm hanging around her mother's neck (Patrick wore one of his own, but only he, along with Longbottom and Thomas, knew it was completely useless).  "Plenty to choose from there."

"Do well, and I might even be able to talk your father into buying you one next year."

"That would be wicked," said Meghan, her grin growing wider.   “And I’ll write you when I get a chance, I promise.”

Patrick sighed.  "Take care, love," he said, hugging her.

"Thanks, Dad."

"And be careful."

"I know!"

And as the train whistle blew behind them, Meghan pulled herself from her father's grasp, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before running up the stairs onto the train just as it was pulling away.  Ellen and Patrick Cullen watched in silence as it pulled away, Ellen's hands crossed nervously in front of her.

"This is a mistake," Patrick muttered, and not for the first time.

"Will you stop it, Pat?" Ellen said sharply as the train disappeared.  "She'll be fine."

"I hope so..."

"Patrick," Ellen said with a sigh.  "There's something you're not telling me."

"There's nothing I haven't told you," Patrick retorted.  Lying again.

"Well...  well, why do you think they're so dangerous?" Ellen asked.  "Before two days ago you didn't know they existed.  Did you?"

Patrick remained silent.

"You reacted horribly when those letters first arrived," said Ellen.  "Why?"

Patrick sighed.  "Because..."

"Are you one of them?" Ellen asked, her arms tightening around herself.  "Are you a wizard?"

"No," Patrick said.  And that was the truth.  I'm not a wizard.  Not anymore.

"Then what?" Ellen insisted.  "What is going on?"

Patrick looked down towards the end of the platform, where the fog was starting to lift.  He saw the back of Hermione Granger's (Hermione Potter's?  Hermione Krum's?) head.  She was having an animated conversation with...  a blue-haired boy?

"I'm not a wizard," Patrick Cullen repeated aloud.  "I knew some once.  When I was young and stupid.  But that was a long time ago."

He turned away from the scene, away from the Platform, and walked back to the barrier.

"I'm not who I used to be."

Back to reality.

The Other Family / Previous Chapter / Granger Stubborn