The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel


Chapter 28: Windows


The long class day was done, and along with his own work, most of which had been finished during the actual classes, he also had papers to grade for most of the younger year DADA students. The hard part was remembering to employ what Professor Weasley had told him.

“You can go easier on them than this! Great Merlin! There’s enough red ink on these to flunk the whole class…twice! Do you have any concept of the fact that these are eleven and twelve-year olds? Do you? Relax. Stick to correcting serious inaccuracies. Leave a note or two about what was wrong if you think the correction is needed, but damn! Give ’em a break.”

That had led to one of the predictable little disputes between them. Draco was beginning to get used to it. At least the losing part, since Professor Weasley never let a disagreement go very far before invoking his authority and ending it right there, usually with a red-faced and baleful glare of irritation. The ignorant goat. How could anyone learn anything of worth while lollygagging about, playing with boggarts and the like? Hogwarts was nothing like Durmstrang, and the differences were most telling when it came to things like this.

It was impossible to imagine an instructor at Durmstrang laughing alongside his class after casting ‘Riddikulus’ at a boggart trapped in a box. Professor Weasley had bellowed the spell at an enormous Acromantula, and the class had gone from terrified squeaks to undignified laughter when the creature suddenly found itself on wheeled skates and tumbled to the floor.

The class had been more like a children’s party than a proper course of study. Throw in Professor Weasley’s laxity regarding the incredible number of minute errors and misspellings, and it barely seemed like schooling. None of this changed his irascibility with Draco, who always got vague orders, distracted requests, and the general impression that Professor Weasley disliked him and was only going through the motions of working peacefully together, and DADA had become a daily grind of meaningless paperwork. Especially since Draco wasn’t allowed to cast as much as a single spell since ‘the incident’.

It was time to turn in the pile of paperwork in front of him, and he’d grudgingly gotten the hang of ignoring the vast surplus of small mistakes and only marking against the most obvious gaffes. It was also time to try out Master Prewett’s recommendation. Not that Draco really cared what ‘the Weasel’ thought of him, but it might make his average day a little less unpleasant. Still, if one graded on a curve that included Durmstrang, life at Hogwarts was a considerable improvement.

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A polite rap at the door, which was open, and Ron Weasley lifted his head from the seventh-year papers he was grading. His eyes always went a little flinty when he saw Draco Malfoy, just before he pulled himself together and managed to keep a normal tone with son of the person he’d once loathed most in the world.

“I’ve finished the first and second years’ papers for the week. Anything else, sir?” The faint hint of acid that usually marked any comment from Draco was absent for once, and Ron paused to rub his temples.

“Nah. I think that’s it for now.” He genuinely wished he could go home and enjoy the comforts that only home could give. It wasn’t that DADA was a subject he hated…it was that DADA was a complicated subject to manage. The endless permutations and spell knowledge that were required made it one of the tougher courses to teach, demanding as much from the teacher as from the student. Ron knew the subject well…but not like Harry, and that made a real difference in the number of hours that Ron spent preparing the lesson plans for each day and week, even when Harry had left most of it written down.

“So…uh…would you care for a game of wizard chess? I heard you were very good.”

Ron lifted an eye, searching the young man’s face for even a hint of levity. The boy’s face was blank, and at a guess he looked perfectly serious, but Ron labored hard to keep from doing a patent double-take.

“You’re serious? I’m almost done here, and I haven’t had the chance to keep my game up just lately…since someone made it necessary to teach my best friend’s classes while he recuperates, but…”

Draco bristled with outrage. “What…I…rrr! Never mind! What did I ever do to you!? Here’s the papers. Good night!”

Ron knew perfectly well he’d struck a nerve, and though it wasn’t something he liked to admit, he was almost glad he had. Everything about the snarky little git was painfully reminiscent of his father. There were too many memories attached to that name and that face…not the least of which was one that involved waking up feeling like his guts had been ripped out, only to find out later that the poison intended for Dumbledore had gone down Ron’s throat instead.

Even that aside, Ron was a largely fair man, and it shamed him enough to know he was being unfair in the extreme. Almost two decades with Hermione hadn’t gone without a certain amount impact too. He could just imagine what she’d say about his last comments to the boy.

’Ron Weasley! Is it absolutely necessary for you to be a complete and total ass?! After this long, and you can’t even least manage that without putting forth so much extra effort?! Please!

Ron shuddered while Draco opened the door to leave in a huff. It made his teeth ache to even say it, but the words came anyway.

“The chess set’s in the corner…unless you think you couldn’t win, of course.”

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“Troll takes Knight. Check”

Ron smiled mildly, then moved without hesitation. A single piece, a pawn at that, and Draco looked again in surprise.

“Check and checkmate.”

“But…but…”

“I’ll give you a minute to see for yourself, but anywhere you move, you drop into a position where I can take your King. Fafnir’s Gambit. I started it nine moves ago.”

“Fine! I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming! If it had been anything but a common pawn…”

“That’s why I did it. You countered the other classic ploys I tried within two moves. Got to admit…you are pretty good. I haven’t played a game longer than twenty minutes in almost five years…until tonight. Well…except against my wife. If you think I’m good, she‘s brutal. I should know…I taught her.”

Draco simmered a moment, then realized he’d just been complimented.

“You’re better than I expected. Prewett warned me that you were good. It’s just…I didn’t think there were that many moves I hadn’t heard of before. There were three occasions that I thought you had something in mind that I couldn’t predict, and I was only guessing at a way to balk them. That…it was pretty good. Thanks.”

Ron paused a moment to properly absorb the notion of a polite Malfoy, much less one that had made him work for a win.

“You’re welcome. Well…unless you’re up for another game, I mean to get some dinner and enjoy some quality Floo time with my kids before bed.”

“Yeah. I…” Draco wasn’t blind by any means. There was a golden opportunity here. Not merely to close some perceived gap between himself and a man he didn’t particularly like, but also to make a peace between himself and someone who had at least seen and spoken to Harry this past week. It was better than nothing.

“How come you dislike me so much? Don’t pretend I don’t know. It was a good game and all, but you can barely stand being in the room with me most of the time. I’d just like to know.”

Ron frowned. “Well…for starters…you’re too damn blunt!”

Draco bit his tongue and raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Ron put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. As long as the gauntlet of challenge had been thrown down, he might as well pick it up. Besides…an honest question deserved an honest answer. Didn’t it?

“And I haven’t slept in my own bed since Harry…Professor Potter took ill. I haven’t seen my kids for more than a few minutes every night since I started teaching this class. I haven’t been away from my home for more than one night at a time since the day I got married, and that’s exactly how I liked it. Take one guess as to why I’m a little irritated. Make it a good one.”

Draco found that unsettling. He hadn’t thought of it like that at all. He’d expected animosity toward his father, which was expected, since that was all he seemed to get here most of the time. The idea that he’d taken someone else away from the ones they loved didn’t sit well with him at all. It was definitely time to regroup.

“I didn’t mean to do that! I am sorry. Just…you didn’t like me before that. I thought it was because of my father.”

“You’d be right, too! Nearly getting poisoned to death will give you a long memory! And it wasn’t even because he was gunning for me…but because he was so pathetically incompetent that he managed to botch almost everything he touched! If Harry hadn’t shoved a bezoar down my throat at the last second, I’d have been a lot worse off than a bad bellyache and a case of the green-apple trots. Maybe I look at you and still see him, and maybe it isn’t fair, but that’s how it is. If I can make do with this arrangement, then so can you. Enjoying it isn’t necessary…and it isn’t expected, so don’t trouble yourself over it.”

The man was obviously irritated and irrational, and the comments about poisoning and incompetence were all new to Draco. He’d never heard or read anything of the like. Professor Granger-Weasley hadn’t hinted at a word of it. She’d been quite pleasant, and in fact, she was just about the only person who hadn’t looked askance at him since they’d met. It was hard to imagine her married to a man whose anger ran so deep that it had lasted almost twenty years.

“But I’m not him…am I? I never even got to meet him. You know more about him than I ever will…and you hated him. I know some things, mostly things anyone would know, but not much more than that. I don’t think I’m all that much like him anyway. Would you…tell me about him? Just things you remember?”

Ron turned his head away for a moment, staring at the chess pieces on the fancy crystal three-tiered set up that Hermione had gotten him for Yule long ago. It was hard to look into eyes that were earnest and calm, more determined and unguarded than the father’s had ever been. Maybe this boy had secrets, but the malice, the anger and bitterness that Ron remembered from a generation ago were just absent right now. Gone. This wasn’t that man, and this wasn’t that time.

“Yeah. I guess I could at that. If you think you want to hear those things…and I think I understand why you’d want to. Harry was like that too, years ago. He was always eager to hear about his folks. Even little stuff. I suppose you’ve got a right.”

Draco smirked mildly. It was strange…talking to Ron Weasley about these things, laden with tension, snatching a glimpse of the past from eyes that had seen it all before he was born. But those were all he could ever have. Windows. Snippets and tidbits, colored by others’ perceptions. They were worth having. Worth making peace for.

“You went here with him…tell me about that…please?”

“Heh. Alright. Well…let’s start with a story about the Hogwarts Express. So…”


TBC!!!