The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…..by Samayel

Chapter 10: Enter Hermione


Hermione Granger-Weasley’s heels clacked on the old flagstones that paved the halls of Hogwarts. Her hair was braided back, but wisps still fell into her eyes as she hurried along her way. She’d taken the Floo in with Ron after breakfast, having made certain that her mother-in-law, Molly, was comfortable looking after the children. Honestly, no one was better than Molly at wrangling five children in an orderly fashion. She was strict, but the cookies and pies she baked usually made the children a bit more pliant. If their grandmother threatened to stay out of the kitchen, they behaved like angels to make sure that Molly’s treats wouldn’t be off the menu.

It was fortunate that Hermione was often able to work at home, since her professional life was largely constituted of research and the publishing of results. Ron had built her a superb study, with shelves that had been charmed to shift until the one she wanted was closest at hand. She often couldn’t work until the children were in bed, but she used the few hours each night well and wisely, and over the years her research had paid a nice dividend. Her name had traveled the wizarding world like wild fire after her first book, and while it wasn’t a best seller, academics knew her name around the globe.

Aside from speaking honorariums and royalties for her books, her two classes a month at Hogwarts brought a little extra money home. Not that she and Ron did poorly, but five children could create an inexhaustible list of necessities. A few hundred extra Galleons here and there certainly made a difference, but there was a limit to the amount of time either of them were willing to spend away from home. Money was all well and good, but it wasn’t of any real use if she couldn’t put the children to bed in person. It usually took the both of them more than hour to get them all bedded down, and even then there was the usual string of requests for glasses of water or stories or hugs and kisses and favorite toys. It was the nature of children to avoid bedtime with a desperation that bordered on psychosis, as if the world would fade away forever and no fun would be left to have tomorrow. Silly, infantile…but ultimately beautiful.

Harry had owled and Firecalled this week, instead of visiting, because the start of the school year was always his busiest time. Once things settled a bit he’d be over for dinner like usual, but right now it was quite normal for him to just write or chat a moment until he had more time. Ron had told her about Harry’s ‘collapse’, and Hermione hadn’t been fooled for an instant. Something felt ‘off’. She couldn’t pin it down until she saw him properly, but the nagging suspicion that more was at play than a simple cold dogged her every step.

The letter had been oddly troubling. It all sounded routine enough…except for the name of the new student. Draco Malfoy. The name echoed through years of better times, and dragged with it memories of fear and sorrow. She’d known full well that Malfoy had sired an heir to his family name, but no one had hear a word about the boy in almost two decades. Educated at Durmstrang, supposedly brilliant, and according to Harry, just as troubled as he was gifted. Harry had seemed oddly fragile while they’d set an appointment by Firecall, and it was to Harry’s quarters that she was headed now. There were matters to discuss, and she had the feeling that the younger Malfoy was the least of them.

The rap at Harry’s door pulled him away from his lesson plans. It was seven o’ clock, and that meant Hermione had arrived. They’d decided to meet briefly before classes and even before the Great Hall opened for breakfast. Less traffic that way, and fewer potential interruptions. John Prewett had prodded Harry gently toward this decision, but his own words to Draco had been ringing in his ears, making this a necessity even without the pressing need to make changes in his life. Harry opened the door and welcomed Hermione in, while she placed her heavy bag on the floor and took a chair, accepting tea as soon as he had it ready.

“Missed you at our place the last few weeks, Harry. The little ones get restless when they haven’t seen Uncle Harry in a while. Same goes for Ronny and I, now that I think of it. How are you? Really…and none of that prattle about being fine and it was just a flu…we’ve known each other too long to play at all that.”

Harry sighed and took his own seat at the table. Hermione certainly deserved answers, and not the ones he’d been passing around lately.

“I really am…alright. Now. I suppose. Old John Prewett has been working with me. ’Mione…there are…things…I should have told you a long time ago. From the war…and after. You and Ron…you’re my family. There are things…so personal, that they’re even harder to say to people you love. I’ve sat on those things for a long time. I didn’t want people worrying over me. I just wanted to forget. I guess it worked well enough…until lately.

It comes to this. I’ve been drinking…too much…for a long time. To help me sleep at first, and then because I couldn’t stop after doing it so long. My liver needs a bit of fine tuning…compliments of John. It’s…about the war. Back at Grimmauld Place. You and Ron…you mean the world to me. I didn’t want anyone to know…what I did…then.”

It all came together. It always did for Hermione. Patterns and hints and things that mystified others came clear to her faster than they did for other people. She pieced the puzzle together fast enough. Harry got sick when young Malfoy came to Hogwarts. He’d been single as long as she’d known him. He’d never had quite the same smile since the end of the war, and he’d been downright grim after the death of Draco Malfoy. It had only taken a very small push for Hermione to put it all together. The name came out like a whisper.

“Draco.”

Harry nodded, teacup trembling in his hand, eyes faintly wet.

“Yeah. Draco. I never told anyone. We were together, quietly, from shortly after he arrived at Grimmauld Place until he left to get married…just after I’d recovered. I know how everyone felt about him. Hell…I felt the same way…at first. You can’t imagine…what he was really like. Ha! Moaning Myrtle…she called him ’sensitive’. No one would have believed it. She was right. Not even the same person…underneath. I’m probably the only person left alive that really knew him.”

“Harry…”

Hermione hadn’t the first idea what to say. She’d often wondered over the years whether Harry was gay. The absence of female company had hinted at it, and in kind, she’d hinted at being completely supportive of such things, hoping Harry would take the hint. He’d never said a word on the subject. Other ramifications were crowding her mind, while memories of that time and after came back to her.

Harry’s sudden departure from the Auror service, after investigating Malfoy’s death. The months of isolation at Grimmauld Place after the suspects had been found dead. The seemingly unrelated death of Theodore Nott. When Harry had moved to Hogwarts to teach, he’d closed up Grimmauld Place and never returned to it. So many little choices…all tied to this revelation.

“God…Harry…”

“Yeah. You’re figuring it out. It was me. I killed them. The two who killed him…and Nott. I killed them all. For Draco. The last time I saw him, we’d had a screaming row. He went off to find his future bride, and I never saw him again…until I saw his corpse. I went crazy, Hermione. I hunted them down and cornered them like animals. I enjoyed taking their lives. I never wanted anything like that before. I just did my duty. But for them…I savored it. I murdered them, the way they murdered him. I never told anyone…until this week. It all came back. I’ve tried to forget…but it all came back…”

Hermione put a hand on Harry’s, pushing the teacup back to the table.

“Because of his son. He came here, and you couldn’t forget anymore, could you? Harry. I’m so sorry, love. How could you think we wouldn’t love you? We’d have helped…then…if you’d needed us. Harry…forgive me. I knew something was wrong, even then, but…you were always such a private person. We never wanted to intrude. It just seemed like…after you came here…you were happy again. We’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. Please know that.”

“I know. I think I knew it. Just…everything with him was always complicated. Nothing was ever easy. He was the one person in the world that no one would have wanted me to be with…and the things…I did…because of him. The Ministry erased most of it from the records, and I erased it with whiskey. I should have said all this a long time ago. After the incident…passing out like that…I told Prewett…and Minerva. And now you. I didn’t think I could handle this, but John’s been a big help. I’m alright. I’ll be alright.”

“You said you were this Draco’s mentor. If he’s anything like the first Draco then it can’t be all tea and roses. Tell me about him. If you can…”

Harry composed himself, gulping tea, grateful for the chance to talk about something else.

“Yeah. Draco. The younger. What can I say, love? The boy is brilliant. He looks a bit like his father. Not quite a match, but close. He’s got the kind of mind that reminds me of yours. Restless…and hungry…looking for answers. He didn’t get the kind of guidance he needed at Durmstrang, and as near as we can tell, he’s stand-offish, impatient, aware of his superior talent, and angry at a world that didn’t seem to appreciate it. He came here to study for a final year, at Hogwarts, and the Ministry wanted me to observe his progress and report to them through Minerva. Hermione…they think he has the makings of a Dark Lord, but I don’t believe it. He just seems bright and a little unsociable. I called you here to see about including him in your course on Theoretical Magicks. He seemed very excited about meeting you. Looks like he already read all your books too.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Eighteen and he read all my books already? My God…he must have quite a mind. I only have two students for the class on Theory. Both seventh year Ravenclaws. I’d be happy to meet him, since you think it’s a good idea. I just can’t quite accept this notion of the Ministry’s. Are they serious? Just because he’s Draco’s son, it doesn’t mean he’s evil. Probably just bias against that name he’s been saddled with all his life.”

Harry smirked ironically, a glimmer of irritation evident. “They’re serious. He was a disciplinary problem for most of his years at Durmstrang. Did you know they still use corporal punishment there? Apparently he argued with his instructors so often that, in spite of grades that are impressive to say the least, he was probably beaten with a switch or a whip at least once a month for the last five years. The Ministry feels that because of his talent and his lack of interest in socializing with others, he might be a genuine candidate for future trouble. I won’t argue that the boy can be troublesome, believe me, I’ve already seen that side of him! But I can’t accept that he’s potentially a Dark Lord. I’d just like to see him get the education he wants, and if his time at Hogwarts could help him open up to others a bit and learn to socialize normally, I…I’d want that for him. You know why.”

Hermione smiled. Harry was an uncommon man. In every sense of the word. Of course he’d want a better life for young Draco. What Harry had done years ago…changed nothing. He was the godfather of Hermione’s children. A friend who had seen nearly every birthday, every new child, and listened to every small sorrow through the years. There was no malice in Hermione, not toward Draco Malfoy, and not toward his son and heir. Too many years had passed for her, and she’d let go of small grudges many years ago.

“Yes…I do. That’s very ‘you‘, Harry. Even if it hurts, you wouldn’t sit still when someone needs help…even if they don’t know it. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need…and I’m glad you’re telling me all of this. You never should have kept it to yourself so long. Our home is your home, Harry. Ron will understand too. You’ll be talking to him about this soon?”

“Yeah. He deserves to hear it all as much as you do. John Prewett was after me to…to let this all out…share it with people that matter to me most, and I…I know he’s right. I’m done with secrets, Hermione. I’ve been tired for longer than you can imagine, and it’s time to have my life back.”

They chatted until the breakfast hour came, sipping strong tea and subtly brushing against the topic of Harry’s time with Draco years ago, and a friendship that had been solid through more than two decades suddenly seemed stronger than ever, when Harry had thought it couldn’t possibly be more steadfast than it already was.


TBC!!!