Especially Our Enemies

The rain had subsided, and with it the pain in my arm. I got out of bed feeling surprisingly refreshed, considering I had slept only an hour or two uninterrupted by nightmares. I glanced at my ledger and saw that I needed to get all the student brooms out of storage and check them over. That might take me the better part of the day, I realized, and I grabbed my keys to the storage room and my office before I went down to breakfast. I tried not to think about what Malfoy had said about trophies.

I was one of the first to arrive at the great hall and I took a seat. There was just coffee at the moment, but when some of the other professors arrived the food would show up. I picked up one of the copies of the Daily Prophet nearby and read the front page, sipping the steaming brew. The Arrows had won another quarter-final; they were probably going back to the Cup that year.

“Here.”

“You have got to stop doing that,” I said, picking up the newspaper I’d all but thrown across the table.

“Take it.” Malfoy held out his closed fist. I put my hand out and he set something warm and metallic in my palm. His fingers brushed my skin and I felt a shiver run through me, like I’d bumped into a ghost. He pulled away and went to a seat farther down the table, and I looked at the item he’d handed me.

It was Ginny’s old locket. I opened it; pictures of all our family and friends still flashed in its frames. Everyone I’d loved and lost. Harry’s image came up and I closed the locket quickly.

“Why did you keep this?” I asked, putting it in the breast pocket of my jacket, close to my heart.

“I wanted to see it back to its rightful owner,” he said simply, pouring himself a glass of orange juice and picking up the business section.

“Like Harry’s wand.”

“Indeed.” His eyes met mine for a bit longer than a moment and I had to look away from the intense gaze. “You will see that it gets back to her, won’t you?”

“Uh, sure,” I said. I supposed I could hang it around the neck of her urn in the house in Kent, whenever I got back there. I glanced at Malfoy and he was still staring at me. Finally he turned to his paper. If he was trying to make me uncomfortable, he was doing a damned good job.

I ate quickly and recruited Dooley to come help with the brooms. We had them all lined up on the lawn and were inspecting them one by one when Bugsy swooped down and landed on my shoulder, talons pricking me slightly through my shirt. He was easily twice the size of old Pigwidgeon, but he still found sufficient space to land. I held out my arm and he walked down it carefully.

“There’s a ham biscuit from breakfast in my office you can have,” I murmured to him, as I took the letter from his claws. He bobbed his head, and when I released him he leapt into the air in search of his reward. The letter had been borne to the castle by another bird, but since I had a personal owl it was simplest to let him find me. I hoped the original messenger had gotten a nice mouse or something up in the owlery.

Ron:
Heard you were teaching flying back at school. My wife and I are buying up the old nursery in Hogsmeade, and we’d love it if you’d drop by sometime before classes start. Hope to see you,
Neville

When we’d finished with the brooms we had already missed lunch and it was nearing dinnertime. Every year, I promised myself the old class brooms would make it through another semester, and every year more and more of them fell apart. Soon enough I would have to request we order some. I sent Dooley off and went to my office to write Neville back.

I hadn’t seen the old salt for at least ten years, I realized. I promised to come over for tea the next afternoon and sent Bugsy off with the note. The clock on my wall was nearing one of the little marks I’d made to remind me of a meal and I headed up to the great hall.

The last few days of summer break always go by very quickly, and I found myself walking down the path to Hogsmeade before I knew it. I found the old nursery with only a little help from the locals. It had been closed for several years, which Snape muttered about often. Apparently it made it quite difficult to supply his classroom, since the school gardens could only produce so much and everything else had to be delivered by owl. The buildings had been cleaned up and the hothouse windows replaced. I could see a few little sprouts coming up in the one closest to the street.

“You must be Ron.” The woman was cute and plump, with curly blonde hair and a pleasant smile. Her accent suggested she might be from Ireland. I’d have been happy to buy plants from her. She was wearing a plain green apron, smeared with good soil, and she asked my help in untying it at the back.

“Come inside, then,” she said, “Nev’s just gone up to the grocery.”

We sat down in the living room of the cottage next to the nursery.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Longbottom, but I didn’t catch your first name,” I said.

“I’m Margaret,” she told me, smiling sweetly.

“Pleasure to meet you, Margaret.”

“Is Ron here already? I must have dallied too long.” Neville came in with paper bags in either arm. I stood and took one from him, and they led me into the kitchen. Once his hands were empty he gave me a firm hug. I remembered getting their wedding announcement a few years before, and not being able to attend because of Quidditch. Neville and Margaret seemed very happy as they bustled around the kitchen, putting things away and getting tea started.

“So what made you two decide to buy this place?” I asked, as we sat down at the table.

“It’s a kind of retirement,” Neville said. He was looking fit and rested, though his short goatee had streaks of gray in it. The war had aged him more than most.

“Neville and I have been working for MagiCorp for a long while now, and we finally saved up enough money to do what we’ve both always dreamed,” Margaret said, beaming.

“That’s right.”

“So you’re finally turning that green thumb to good use, eh?” I asked.

“He’s been mucking about in our little garden in London ever since we got married, muttering about how much he could do with more space.”

“Professor Snape will be pleased that someone’s moved into the old place,” I said. “Although I don’t know if he’ll be happy it’s you.”

Neville laughed.

Margaret baked extremely tasty biscuits, and when I complimented them she pressed a tin of them on me to take back up to school. We talked and laughed until it was nearly dark, and they elicited a promise that I would visit again during the first Hogsmeade weekend. Neville insisted on giving me a baby plant in a terra cotta pot and some instructions on how to care for it. I walked up the path with a song on my lips. It was always nice to see old friends, I thought.

Another day and then the children would be arriving, and things would pick up immensely for me. I went to bed early, knowing that there were many last-minute preparations to be made.

I spent the next day organizing my books and writing up assignments. Minerva and I had decided I should offer a course for the sixth- and seventh-years on the history of Quidditch. It would be one of those easy-ace classes they could take to help with the stress of their upper-level schedules. A few of my friends who were still in the sport had offered to come by, and there were also a couple of management scouts from various clubs interested in checking the kids out, seeing who might be well suited to coaching. Since the war, there had been a dearth of support personnel; many of the top managers, trainers, and coaches were wounded in the fighting, and left the sport. Students from all four Houses, including most of the House team members, had signed up for the class.

And then it was there, the day I had been waiting for with nervous excitement. It was always hard for me, coming back for a new year. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never felt right holding a position of authority. There’s none of Percy in me.

The new students filed into the hall, looking around them curiously. The older students quieted almost instantly, and the sudden silence seemed to intimidate the youngsters, seeing the inside of this enormous room for the first time. My own butterflies were still quite active as I looked for Chaz near the back of the line. As the first student was seated on the stool, I saw my son start to talk to another boy. The girl on the stool went to the Gryffindor table, and I made a note of her name.

The Sorting always seems to end quickly when you aren’t one of the people waiting in line. I slid forward towards the edge of my seat when Chaz’s name was called. I licked my lips, watching the Sorting Hat mumble to itself and Chaz. My son wore a look of concentration. Finally, the Hat opened its mouth wide.

“Ravenclaw!” it roared. Chaz smiled. I was taken aback for a moment, but I applauded with the rest as he went to the screaming Ravenclaw table.

After dinner, I headed with the throng of Gryffindor students towards the tower. I didn’t sense Malfoy’s presence beside me until he spoke.

“I didn’t know you had a son,” he said softly.

“Chaz, yes,” I said.

“Named for your brother Charles?”

I nodded.

“Were you surprised at the Hat’s decision?”

“Only a little,” I admitted, wondering at Malfoy’s intentions. He nodded and melted away into the crowd. I shook myself and mounted the stairs towards the Fat Lady.

I gave the first-years the usual speech, welcoming them to my House and reminding them of the rules. In the knots of students I could already see the friendships starting to form, many of which would last all through their school career. It always made me a little sad to watch the process, since my own best friends were both lost to me. I left them in good spirits and made my way down the stairs alone. Professors were to patrol the halls until an hour after lights out, and then I could go to bed.

Walking through the main corridor, I trailed my hand along the stone wall. It was good to be here, I realized, in a place that I had loved so well as a boy.

It should not have surprised me to encounter Malfoy coming down one of the side halls.

“I do not envy you as a Head of House,” he said.

“You wouldn’t,” I said.

“No, I suppose that wouldn’t be in character,” he murmured. I started to say something when Snape interrupted from the stairwell.

“Are you gentlemen behaving yourselves?” he asked. He looked displeased at the prospect of having to break up an argument if we were not.

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy said. Snape looked as if wanted to comment, but shook his head and continued down the stairs towards the dungeons.

“Are you looking forward to your classes in the morning?” I asked awkwardly, as Malfoy kept walking beside me down the hall.

“It will be a new experience,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I suppose the children really couldn’t ask for a more knowledgeable professor.” There was something nasty in the statement that I had not meant to let slip. Of course he could teach Defense, I thought. Who else knew more about dark magic?

Malfoy looked at me.

“I do not expect for us to be friends, Weasley,” he said softly. “But I have paid my debts, and I see no reason why there should still be hatred between us.”

Easy for him to say, I thought.

“It’s not easy to forget twelve years of bad blood,” I said.

He stopped and offered me his hand.

“Let us start over,” he suggested. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Ron Weasley,” I said, feeling foolish but shaking his hand.

“I understand you used to be a professional Quidditch player,” he said. “That must have been an interesting time.” His tone was an empty echo of interest, but all his emotions seemed to be that way.

“Uh, sure.” He started walking again, and I followed him.

“Do you prefer this more settled life, teaching here?” he asked.

“It did get old, traveling all the time,” I said. “A man gets tired of the road.”

“I would agree,” he said. There was weariness in his voice. “Eventually you have to put down roots someplace. Eventually you have to come home.”

I thought I was beginning to understand why he had come here. I didn’t know where Malfoy had spent the decade since the war, but I was fairly certain it was not in England. Though he, like many of the Death Eaters, had received amnesty, he was surely not welcome in most of the country. The Malfoy estate had been seized as part of the reparations paid to victims’ families; this might be the only place he could call home.

“Have you ever done anything that you regret?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Lots of things, Malfoy.”

He nodded and walked away from me.

“Good night, Weasley.”

I scratched my head for a moment, feeling very stupid indeed, and then went down the other branch of the corridor.