The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

Penance

Chapter 5

....Harry would read a little more and join Ginny.

&*&*&

Things went well for the next week. I had fewer moments of cravings than I expected. I attended daily, and I was beginning to understand the message that Father Cavanaugh was imparting. If I was going to be able to be forgiven by others, I must forgive myself first. A simple premise on the face of it, but much harder for me to implement. I spoke with Father when I finally understood what he was trying to say. I confessed everything to him. My vanity, my prejudice, my venality, all was exposed for his measuring gaze. I explained that my time as a nominal Death Eater was what had driven me to the easy oblivion of Muggle poison. My time on heroin had caused me to sell my body and deplete my magic. I'm not sure the man fully understood, but after our talk, he did seem to comprehend my need for punishment. He remarked on it and mentioned the entirely Catholic concept of penance. I laughed, telling him I was familiar with the concept. Then I told him of Hogwarts and my beloved friend and godfather, Severus Snape, his meaningless death, his great service to the Light, and the horrible punishments he meted out for misbehaviour in his class. I hadn't been looking at him when I said the spy's name. I should have.

“Snape, you say?” The priest's voice contained an odd note of sadness. I looked at him then, afraid of what truth I might see. “Severus Snape?”

Cavanaugh's eyes filled with tears and I watched in some horror as he cried almost inconsolably. I finally interjected, “Sir?”

“He was my father's cousin or some such relation.” Cavanaugh said drying his face on a large white cotton handkerchief produced from his cassock. “I used to admire him a great deal when I was younger. You say he died in service to this Phoenix Order?”

I had never thought of that solitary man as having a family and it hurt me to realize that, as much as I had cared for him, I never really knew him. “Yes sir. He was also the one responsible for saving Miss Cavanaugh's life.”

“I wasn't aware.” He folded and refolded the cloth in his hand. “Tish never gave me the name of the man who aided her. I doubt he would have even recognized her as family. We lost touch with him after his father died.”

Cavanaugh looked out the dirty window onto the dismal street beyond it. “He was quite tortured, you know. It had something to do with a girl and her death. I don't think he ever forgave himself.”

I looked away from his pain, shamed. “No, he didn't. I hope your god forgave him. He did deserve more than this life ever offered him.”

I thought of the night on the Astronomy Tower, and the pain and rage that had marred his homely face as he killed Dumbledore, another death on his conscience and it was due to my cowardice. I was the cause of his ultimate sin. I stood, more painfully aware of my own sins. “I'll leave you now, sir. I am sorry for your loss.”

“I'm sorry for your loss also. You do seem to have cared for him. I'm glad someone did.” Cavanaugh's gaze sharpened. “One moment, Draco. I haven't given you the task for your penance.”

“I was hoping you would forget, sir.” I felt a polite smile grace my lips, but knew it didn't reach my eyes.

“That would make me an entirely remiss priest, wouldn't you say?” His expression was a wan imitation of his normal jocundity. “No, you will be assigned to help in the soup kitchen for the week. You will be serving those that are less fortunate than you with humility and grace, I hope.”

I gave my best Malfoy bow. “As you request, sir.”

The older man chuckled. “Now get on with you. My sister needs to speak with you over tea. You will have your daily duties fulfilled by that time, I assume?”

“Yes sir.” I left and began my assigned job.

A half hour before teatime I packed my gardening tools. It was early fall, but bushes and the like still had to be trimmed. I found I enjoyed my time outside working in the small garden. I washed and proceeded to Father Cavanaugh's study. My Angel was waiting for me. I paused in the doorway, my heart hammering painfully in my suddenly too small chest. She saw me and I could have sworn the smile she gave me rivalled the sun's brilliance. My breath caught and I wanted to rush to her and snog her senseless. I controlled my urges. “Miss Cavanaugh.”

“Such formality. I think we've been through quite enough that you can call me Tish.” She stood, reaching for the tray that contained the battered teapot and cups of the parish office. “Draco, I have some bad news.”

I sat awaiting the communication with little trepidation. Nothing could be worse than what I had experienced before. She continued as she poured the tea, and placed sugar and milk in hers, and lemon in mine. “The claim I submitted for your subsistence payment has been denied. It has mainly to do with your lack of paperwork.”

“Oh.” My monosyllabic answer was eloquent as always. “Is that the bad news?”

She shook her head. “I've also asked to be pulled off your case. You'll receive a new worker by the end of the week.”

“I see.” I said, but I obviously didn't by the pained expression that crossed her face. “There's more?”

“Your time here is coming to an end. There is only limited bed space and Ian says you've completely removed the heroin from your system. I won't ask how. So...” I had never seen a person wring their hands in distress before, but she sat in front of me doing just that.

I said with a complete equanimity I didn't feel, “So, how long do I have before I have to clear out?”

From the office, we heard Father Cavanaugh's throat clear. Tish looked up, hope dawning. “Yes, Ian?”

He made his way into the room, “Mr. Malfoy will have until the end of the week. I'm sorry it's in our charter. However, depending on your ability at the soup kitchen, I will offer you the post of manager. It won't pay much, but you will be able at least to share a flat with someone. That's something you can arrange Tish? ”

I felt like weeping. These Muggles showed such kindness to me, a former Death Eater and Muggle-baiter. “I don't deserve this, sir.”

He fixed me with the same glare he had given me when I had gone to St. Mungo's on my own. “Whether you do or not, I’m offering. Now, Tish, can you help him look for a flat this week?”

Tish hugged him. “You are the best brother.”

I hung back, abashed. I mumbled my thanks and fled.

I attended Vespers that evening. I had much to think about, and the services had become somewhat calming to me. I had not been raised a believer in anything other than my own superiority, and I found my time in the shelter's sanctuary, at first alien and foreboding with its Blood-god and sad-eyed saints, had transformed me. I began to think of the suffering I had caused and witnessed as something I truly had to atone for, not with the loss of my freedom or my fortune, but with true service. Father Cavanaugh and Tish had influenced me, but I had already begun this path when I was released from Azkaban.

Some time before, I began to read the myths that these Muggles believed on faith, and I could see the value in them. Their Blood-god became heroic in his sacrifice, their morose saints, and martyrs. I don't know if I believe in these beings to this day, but I can see why their simple faith in the blood-god persisted after two millennia. I began to think of Potter, and saw the same sacrifice in his actions. Of course, I knew he was still only human, with the same prejudices and fears as the rest of us, but he had gone to his death willingly to save a world that had offered him little, Muggles and wizards alike. I couldn't imagine what he must have felt. I know I couldn't have done what he did. Then there was Snape, who didn't reveal who truly owned the Ash wand to the Dark Lord, even if it would have saved his own life. That man, who had been so hated by all, had given his whole life to atone for one mistake. I felt the tears fall down my cheeks unchecked. If there was a god here, it witnessed my abasement. I could offer nothing more at the moment. I think at some point I did begin what might be termed prayer by Muggles. I don't really know. Nevertheless, when the service ended, I felt lighter, less soiled by the crimes I had committed to save my own worthless life.

Father Cavanaugh passed by me choosing, I think, to ignore my tears. I was grateful. Tomorrow I would start my new life. Tonight, however, I hoped I would sleep dreamlessly for once.

I began my job at the soup kitchen the next morning. I was dismal at it, and as the day wore on, and my nervousness grew, I became worse. The other workers were kind, but I could tell I had made their job harder and they were glad to see the back of me. By the end of the day, I was feeling like Longbottom on a better day in Potions. I made my way to the community shower, horrible Muggle invention that, and scrubbed the food smell from my body. That task accomplished, I waited outside the church for My Angel to arrive, feeling quite low. She gave me an odd look as she approached. “Your first day didn't go well?”

“I believe utter failure would be the correct phrase.” I slid my hands in the pockets of my trousers. “I probably won't get the position. I don't want to waste your time.”

She looped her arm through mine. It felt right. “Don't be ridiculous. It was your first day. I remember my first day as an aid worker. It was disastrous.”

“What happened?” I asked, truly interested. I'm sure she hadn't dropped a whole tray of sandwiches on the floor. I'm sure she hadn't had to turn away hungry people because of it.

“I was assigned to help a mental patient who had a foot fetish. I wore sandals that day.” She blushed. “You can imagine what a nightmare that was. He… became rather excited to say the very least. I didn't live that humiliation down for at least a year.”

I laughed despite my horrible mood. “Foot fetish? No, we didn't have anyone with that particular reaction to me today.”

Tish joined me. “Don't use that story against me. I'll never forgive you.”

The words struck me like a blow. I stiffened. “I believe you've said that to me before.”

She dragged at my arm as she stopped. “Draco, I'm sorry. I said that without thinking. I have forgiven you. I do understand why you...”

“Just leave off. Okay?” I jerked away. “I don't forgive myself. I could have chosen not to try to torture you or the others. I could have been brave and met my death proudly, but I wasn't. I don't deserve your forgiveness. And I don't believe you anyway. You can't even stand to be my aid worker.”

Then she did something completely unexpected. She kissed me. I let the contact spin out, a soft melding of lips and tongue. My breath was ragged when she stepped away. “That's why I can't work with you any longer. I've become too personally involved with you.”

Gobsmacked was not the word to describe my utter confusion at her actions. The Draco Malfoy before the war would have swept her into his arms used her any way he could, and laughed at the dirty Muggle afterwards. The Draco Malfoy standing before her now felt humbled. I brushed her cheek with my knuckles. Before I could stop the words from escaping, I said, “I love you.”

&*&*&

Harry awoke in the chair, well past dawn. His shoulders hurt and he felt achy everywhere else. He might Fire-call into work today and use some of that holiday pay he had not taken the last two years. He mentally reviewed the meetings scheduled for the day and thought he might be able to miss those with no comment. His field assignments were well underway, and his partner could cover those. He Fire-called his supervisor and skived off.

He did not want to admit it, but reading Malfoy's letter was consuming him.

&*&*&

The end of my first week at the soup kitchen wasn't as dismal as the beginning, and I was hired. I found I enjoyed working with the people that came there. I could use my Malfoy charm and defuse tense situations. I could use my Death Eater menace to dispel fights. I didn't use magic much anymore, being around Muggles and all, but I did practice at night just to keep my hand in. I was Draco Malfoy with a reason for being.

I spent my nights either combing the area for flats in my price range, or combing the advertisements for people who needed for flatmates. I was having no luck, even with Tish's help. I was getting desperate. I really didn't want to spend another night on the streets with it getting cold outside. On Friday, Tish finally offered the use of her couch until I could find housing through her agency, or until I could find my own place. I gratefully accepted. Her flatmate was less than thrilled, but I had been brought up well, and I knew I could be an ideal guest. I proved my abilities when I Spelled breakfast for them on the following day. Tish was amazed. “I didn't know you could cook.”

I smirked, and then whispered, “I can't. But I can do magic.”

Her eyes went round in awe. “I could stand to have one of you around for a while.”

I felt myself flush and I squeezed her hand under the table. (We had not repeated our other activities. I told her I wanted to court her in true wizard's fashion, and so I would bring her a gift a day that I conjured or bought. I would not allow myself physical contact until I was able to commit to her more fully.)

As well as my first week went, my second brought near disaster.

I was serving sandwiches on the line, something I rarely did because I was usually occupied gathering supplies from the local restaurants and food pantries. On Friday, though, one of the volunteers had become ill. I sent them home, but it left us short one staff member. I had just given my last sandwich to an elderly man and was getting ready to return to my small office in the back of the kitchen when I saw gentle, red-rimmed eyes. It was Cred, the Muggle that introduced me to heroin. I felt the longing for the poison immediately; it licked in my veins like a soft fire. I shuddered. Cred smiled through his permanent haze and said, “I know you, man. You're the bloke from the Underground.”

I nodded, unable to move away from the siren-call singing in my blood. He looked around. “Do you know where I can score some, man? I'm starting to hurt.”

I shook my head dumbly. I couldn't respond without giving my longing away. He stared at me a few more moments head cocked like some Egyptian avian-god. “You're clean now aren't you?”

I nodded and the spell was broken. “Yes, it’s only been a few months.”

Cred rubbed his hand through his unwashed hair. “I'll leave you alone then. I wouldn't want to fuck things up for you. Don't want to make you live on borrowed time too.”

He sauntered off and only waved when I called after him. I turned and noted the surreptitious looks cast by my co-workers. As I made my way back to my office, one of the elderly gentlemen who volunteered three times a week said, “Good job, Mr. Malfoy.”

I stood taller, and thanked him with a nod.

I told your mother about the incident that evening. She hugged me and I kissed her hungrily. You were made that night.

&*&*&

James sat on the floor at Harry's feet playing with a set of cars that Arthur Weasley had given him for his birthday. He was making them fly. Harry watched his son for a moment then joined him on the rug, his own chugging noises melding with his son's.

Penance

Chapter 6

Ginny looked in on him. “Harry, dinner's ready. Will you eat with us tonight?”

She looked worried, and Harry felt a little guilty about it. He pulled her onto his lap. “I love you, Ginny.”

She leaned against him, her hand resting on her belly. They sat for a moment, drawing comfort in each other's embrace. “You're worried about him, aren't you?”

“It's just that Malfoy's always been... Malfoy.” Harry rubbed his hand along hers. “He's always been someone I could easily dismiss, and now I find out he has this whole internal world that I've never imagined. I feel as if I've not been fair to him, just like I wasn't fair with Snape.”

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes expressively. “You really are such a Gryffindor. Worse than anyone in my family.”

Harry playfully pushed her off his lap. “Woman, I need my dinner. Let me up!”

&*&*&

I found a flat in my price range, complete with jumble-sale furnishings the week after I began dating your mother. I still courted her, bringing daily gifts and lavishing the attention she deserved. If anyone had told me before that I would fall in love with a Muggle, I would have Hexed them. Now, I couldn't imagine my life without her.

She was shocked at my nearly complete ignorance of the Muggle world. She took me to see my first film. We saw a fiction called Ella Enchanted. I laughed all the way through it, although I suspect for different reasons than everyone else. Really, attractive giants and inept fairies? Ridiculous. She also took me to see an amateur production of The Taming of the Shrew. I enjoyed the farce as much as when we read it in Muggle Studies, and it had the added benefit that I called her Kate for the week. She hated that. She also introduced me to rock music. I loved Led Zeppelin and Tool, and hated Marilyn Manson (if he weren't a Muggle, I would have sworn he was a Death Eater. His looks did remind me of Severus.) We also watched the TV. I didn't enjoy that too much, because the forced laughter of the audiences grated on my nerves, especially in those programmes made by the Yanks. Football was interesting but would never be as exciting as Quidditch. I could at least pass time watching that without excessive irritation. I found myself wanting to immerse myself in her world. I never knew Muggles were so creative. I could almost understand the Weasley patriarch's legendary obsession with everything Muggle.

We also spent time discussing the world from which I came. I was a little more reticent about sharing it with her. All those years of imposed secrecy by the Ministry, and my own actions while I was in it, caused me to feel odd about mentioning certain facts to her. She tried to understand.

Surprisingly, she was quite willing to discuss the atrocities committed by Muggles against the Wizarding world in the past. She said they had covered it extensively in school, but the idea of believing in witchcraft had fallen out of favor due to something she called The Age of Reason (which coincided roughly with the adoption of the Statute of Secrecy in our world.) After some research, I was able to ascertain that the term meant science the Muggle equivalent of magic. I read the books she gave me about Muggle history and technology, and I conversely obtained, as one of my gifts to her, a dog-eared copy of Hogwarts; a History. She read it with as much intensity as I had seen Granger devour the book. My Tish would have made a fine Mudblood.

I found her to have a droll sense of humour that would find expression in some of the oddest moments, usually when I was trying to be overly serious. She punctured my ego when it got out of hand. At times, I appreciated it. I had a tendency to become too much like Snape, too tetchy and self-important. I don't know if it was the time I spent with him, or the similarities in our own psychological make-up that caused it, but my vanity provided too much of a target for Tish's humour to resist. I also found my Angel had a temper. It was at its worst when she watched the evening news (she hated the PM's involvement with that cowboy, Bush) or when we were stuck in traffic. She cursed quite a bit on the road. At that time, she hadn't directed her ire at me, but I was looking forward to a good row with her. She was exhilarating when her anger was roused. I loved that best about her.

I purchased a second-hand broom, an ancient Comet 260, when I received my first aid-cheque and I took her out one afternoon on it, using a disillusionment charm to hide us from prying eyes. She was quite fearful at first, but I snugged her against me and distracted her a bit. It became a quite pleasant if frustrating experience for both of us. We arrived at our destination at twilight, and I took her to the gates of Hogwarts to let her see for herself what she had read about. I was quite disappointed at her initial reaction.

“You went to school here?” She sounded doubtful.

I reacted with some irritation. “Yes. It's much better than the modern hovel you went, I'm sure.”

“Draco, maybe I'm not seeing what you are, but my education wasn't conducted in the ruins of some old cotter's hut.” She looked dubiously at the fields surrounding the venerable old building. I grimaced; of course, the anti-Muggle spells were in place.

“Close your eyes,” I commanded. She glared at me. “Please, I need to do something so you can see what’s really there.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face to me. I took the opportunity to brush my lips to hers. She frowned, and I felt a bubble of laughter escape me. She opened her eyes, irritated. “Is that what you had to do?”

“No, you just looked so adorable, I had to.” I kissed her again and she shivered, whether from the chilly evening or my prowess, I don't know.

“Draco,” she protested, her eyes now firmly closed.

I held my wand to her face and tapped each lid. I repeated a complex series of charms and then said, “Revelo.”

I kissed her again. “Now, open your eyes.”

“It looks like a fairy tale.” Her gasp of awe was quite satisfying. “You went there? Can we tour it?”

“Ah, no. It was warded against Death Eater incursions after the war. I can't go through the gate.” I felt sorry that my ancient actions were causing her loss once again.

“How would the alarm system know?” She asked. Her use of the Muggle term made me smile.

“You've seen the Dark Mark on my arm. That's how.” I pushed up my sleeve, revealing the lightened skull and snake. I turned my face away from her, not wanting to show her how my skin crawled whenever anyone looked on it. She moved to touch it, but I jerked back from her. “I was just sixteen when I took it.”

“Why did you, Draco?” She moved away from me and sat on one of the large boulders that lay by the pathway.

I knew the question would come one day and here it was. I had been dreading it, but now that she had asked, I felt strangely relieved. I pulled her up. “Let's go someplace away from here, and I'll tell you.”

She balked at getting back on the broom. “Can't we just go to that village we passed over?”

I shook my head. “No that wouldn't be such a good idea.”

“Come on, I'm cold, and I've never heard of a business refusing service if you've got the pounds to spend.” She looked dutifully pitiful. She stood and began marching down the familiar path from Hogwarts to the village of Hogsmeade. I cast a shrinking spell on our broom and followed cursing with every step. When I caught up with her, she was heading for The Three Broomsticks.

“No, not in there. I'm definitely persona non grata in that establishment.” Tish looked at me strangely and I grabbed her hand, leading her to the seedier Hog's Head tavern, run by Aberforth Dumbledore. I stopped her and transfigured our Muggle coats into hooded cloaks.

“I'll never get used to you doing that,” she mumbled, fingering the soft folds of fabric that now swathed her slender body. “You should warn me.”

I drew my hood over my head, and again she gave me the odd look. I opened the door to the establishment and our noses were assaulted by the effluvia that passed for ambiance.

She coughed slightly and grimaced. “This is where you wanted to take me?”

“No, if you remember, I wanted to go to some other place entirely.” I grabbed her elbow as a very drunk patron jostled her. “Can we leave now?”

My stubborn Angel set her jaw and wended her way back to a small booth in the corner. “No, we'll stay.”

“Fine,” I spat and made my way back to the bar, noting that Cleaning Charms hadn't been applied that day on, say, anything. A goat baa'ed from under the counter. I frowned and chose the least likely beverage to poison us. “Two firewhiskys please.”

I looked back into the corner and watched my little Muggle's eyes widen as Hagrid made his way past her table. It was almost worth the risk of being discovered to see that. I smirked; the great oaf had finally done me some good. She shrank back into her seat, and I stifled a laugh.

“Oi, yer firewhiskys.” I looked back at the barman and was staring for a moment into Albus Dumbledore's eyes. I froze, and then began to notice the veins along the apple cheeks and the different cant to the nose. “Six Knuts each.”

“Six Knuts! That's outrageous,” I groused as he held out his hand without comment.

I reached into my coin purse glad that I always carried wizarding currency with me. I placed the coins on the counter and moved to take my drinks when Dumbledore halted me with a meaty paw on my arm. “For your sake and hers, this better be your last drink here, Malfoy.”

Mentally cursing him I shook him off. “It will be.”

I made my way back to the booth and sat next to My Angel. “I hope you're happy. Can we leave now?”

“No, I've never been in your world. Let me enjoy myself.” She took sip of her firewhisky and almost spat it. “Good God, what is this, paint thinner?”

I downed it, masterfully covering the gag I felt at the burn from the un-aged liquor.

“Really, Tish, I think we should just leave," I said as I noted several hooded figures approaching our table.

One of the brutes, a mannish-looking woman in her mid-forties, grabbed me by my cloak knocking my cowl back. “Yer type's not welcome here, Malfoy.”

Tish shouted in outrage and was cornered by an equally ugly male of the same approximate age. My wand was ready, and I hexed his hand as it began to rove over her body. He howled in outraged pain as his skin erupted in painful boils. The woman placed her wand against my eye. “Whot's the matter Malfoy, can't get a proper witch these days? You got to shag Squibs?”

“That's enough, you foul bitch.” Tish grabbed the woman's arm a purely Muggle gesture. “Draco, what's a Squib?”

The room fell silent; no chairs scraped back, no drinking noises were heard, nothing, just silence. The woman shook off Tish's hand and returned her wand's focus to me, only lower this time. She stage-whispered, “He's Imperiused a Muggle. I'll have yer balls fer that one.”

“Oh, fuck me.” I heard Dumbledore say from the bar. I steeled myself for the hex and prayed to the Blood-god of Tish's that she would get out of the situation with a simple Obliviate. I closed my eyes and waited. A soft, familiar rumble answered my prayers. Hagrid.

“Ah, leave off, Tilda. E's served 'is time.” I felt the blow of the Halfling’s great hand on my shoulder and dared to breathe again. I peeked from beneath my lashes and noted that Tish's fear of the giant had been replaced by awe. “Come on, young Malfoy. Le' me escort you and yer lady friend outside.”

I stood on watery legs, badly wanting a little of my old bravado to resurface. Tish, looking pale and drawn, took my hand and we followed. Dumbledore nodded to Hagrid as we exited.

Once outside I held Tish's trembling form against me. Hagrid gave me a measuring look and said, “Come ter my hut. Yer lady friend needs some rest before yeh get on yer way.”

I balked knowing I wouldn't be allowed. “I can't enter the grounds. I took the Mark.”

The half-blood laughed the low sound of tumbling boulders I recognized from when he was interacting with Potter when I was a child. “Don't believe everythin' you hear, Malfoy. I thought Slytherins was smarter than that.”

We followed, and I was surprised to find that I could enter the gates of Hogwarts with no alarum being raised. Hagrid's presence had a calming effect on me, and as we entered the grounds, I felt like I was home for the first time since my nightmare life had begun all those years earlier. I kept my eyes from scanning the castle for the Astronomy Tower with some effort. But as I saw the Forbidden Forest loom before us, my heart lurched. Snape had taken me past Hagrid's hut my last night at Hogwarts; the night he killed Dumbledore. I almost expected to see his swirling robes fanning out behind his thin frame. Merlin, I missed him. Hagrid peered down at me, and patted my back. “I miss Severus too. 'E was a good man oncet you got down to it.”

Tish was regaining some of her equilibrium and asked, “Severus, wasn't that the one that saved our lives? Ian said we're related somehow.”

The moment was too raw for me to answer her, and so Hagrid (who would have thought he was so sensitive?) began regaling her with stories of the Potions Master and my student days. I hadn't realized how many lives Snape had touched. As we entered the hovel that was the giant's hut, I was laughing along with Tish. Hagrid busied himself with making tea, and I drew Tish to me again. She kissed my hand. “I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't understand what you were talking about when you said you thought going to the village was a bad idea.”

I saw the tears, ever-present when she felt I was unjustly accused, glimmer on her lashes. I told her, “They have good reason to hate me, Tish. Don't cry for my sake.”

Hagrid plopped down three mismatched cups on the table. “Tha's enough of tha' now, Malfoy. The war's been over these last seven years. Time enough for people ter move along. Them that can't, weren't fightin' on either side as fer as I can see.”

“Most likely.” I took a drink of the 'tea' and wished I had the firewhisky again. It was bloody awful. It was so strong it could have been used to strip barnacles off boat hulls. I saw Tish gag also and then begin spooning sugar into her brew. I almost laughed as she caught my eye. “Thank you, Hagrid, for your assistance tonight. I don't know why you were so kind. I never was to you when I was here.”

“Be that as it may, young Malfoy, I got the feelin' that yeh've changed a bit.” Hagrid rubbed his beard and peered at me, his black eyes twinkling like the old Headmaster's. He looked meaningfully at Tish then back to me. “So, tell me what yeh've been doin' lately.”

I told him the whole sorry story from the time I exited Azkaban, expecting him to throw me out all the while and was pleasantly surprised when he congratulated me on my new job. I finally realized what Potter and his two friends had seen in the oaf. I was sorry I missed his kindness when I was at Hogwarts. I told him so, and then he started blubbering as I'd seen him do many times in my youth. Tish placed her hand on his arm. He enveloped her in his embrace, and I saw her disappear in a tangle of beard and tree-trunk arms. He finally let her go, and he asked, “So, young Malfoy, 'ow did yeh come to meet this loverly Muggle?”

“I met her the first time when Aunt Bella asked me to torture then kill her.” There was the bombshell I had been hoping not to drop. “As a matter of fact, Letitia wants to know why I became a Death Eater.”

Hagrid's kind eyes, still red from weeping turned to me. “Tha's somethin' she should know, doncher think?”

“Yes, sir. I just don't know how to begin.” I took Tish's hand and settled her against me once more.

Hagrid, ever-practical said, “Well, at the beginnin' I s'pose.”

He poured more tea, and I told her everything.