As Happily Ever After As They're Gonna Get by cjbaggins
“Okay, Professor,” Ginny complained. “What am I doing wrong this time?”
Having been observing her carefully, Hermione told her, “You’re snapping your wrist too much ...” She let her voice trail off as she continued to watch her friend’s unsuccessful attempts to Transfigure a box turtle into a compact cardboard box.
Ginny lifted her wand again, experimentally rolling her wrist a few times. Hermione glanced over at Harry and they exchanged a look.
It was late evening on the first of April, and the three of them were in the common room, concentrating on their often-neglected NEWT level skills.
Despite the time that had elapsed since the second task, Ginny’s mood had not improved since her poor showing and she struggled with lessons that were well within her ability.
Harry met Hermione’s gaze and shrugged at her. He had no better ideas than she about how to help Ginny.
Frustrated at another failed attempt, Ginny tutted loudly at the turtle staring at her from the table, and flopped back in her chair.
“Your wrist was better that time,” Hermione said.
Ginny looked at her, but didn’t reply.
Harry could see Hermione take a deep breath before she said, “But I think that your trouble with the spell has less to do with that. And more to do with ... well, with how you’re feeling.”
Ginny eyed her suspiciously. “What do you mean?” she demanded, immediately defensive.
“Well,” Hermione said, slowly, “you haven’t been yourself lately. You’re not as ... confident ... as you used to be. Before the ... erm ... before the“”
“Go on,” Ginny challenged. “Say it. Before the second task.”
“You’re not still going on about that task, are you?” Ron asked as he came up to the three of them. “It was well over a month ago!”
Ginny glared at her brother. “Easy for you to say.”
“But it’s over. You can’t change it now.”
“I know that, but the next task isn’t. What if I can’t do that one either? What, then?”
Hermione shrugged. “You’ll lose,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t be so calm about it!” Ginny shouted at her. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s just a game,” Hermione reminded her.
Exasperated, Ginny turned to Harry who had been sitting quietly up til then. “Is that how you felt in the Tournament?” she demanded angrily.
“No,” he admitted, “it isn’t.” Ginny shot a look of triumph at Ron and Hermione.
“But things have changed since then,” Harry added. “You do badly in the task, and you’ll lose points. We lost loads more than that in the battle last year.”
Ginny dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “I know that, Harry,” she said softly, “I do. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I still feel like a failure, like I’ve let everyone down.”
Before anyone could protest, a loud tapping came from the window. An owl, decorated with maroon stripes, was standing on the sill, banging its beak against the glass. Closest to the window, Ron got up and unlatched it, swinging it wide to allow the owl to soar in. It landed on the arm rest of Hermione’s chair and clicked its beak at her. Startled, Hermione undid the letter from its leg and with a flap of wings, it was gone, retreating back out the window. Ron closed it again.
Opening the letter, Hermione read it aloud:
Dear Hermione,
When I saw the bouquet you’d sent, my first thought was how considerate you were to remember my birthday. But then when I removed the wrapping from the flowers and the whole thing exploded into little bits of confetti, I knew it was much more than that.
So many people did not know how to acknowledge my birthday now that my twin is no longer with us. Hats off to you for a brilliant and perfectly executed idea! Fred would have loved it as well.
And thanks to everyone else as well, as their names were on the card before it disintegrated. I know it was your ingenuity that pulled it off, though.
Cheers,
George
Harry, Ron, and Ginny stared at their friend in disbelief.
“You remembered my brother’s birthday?” Ron asked, surprised.
Hermione shrugged nonchalantly.
“And you sent an exploding bouquet from all of us?” Ginny wondered aloud.
Hermione nodded.
“That was brilliant!” cried Ron.
“It was,” added Harry. “Thank you.”
Hermione smiled at their praise. “I thought we should mark the day somehow. It seemed the only suitable way.”
Ginny, quiet all of a sudden, plucked her wand from the table, got up from her chair, and walked over to the fireplace. Without speaking, she raised her wand, and muttered to herself. Immediately, a piece of parchment sailed down the girls’ dormitory staircase and made its way over to her. Clutching it in her hand, she turned to the others, showing it to them. Harry could see that the paper was another letter from George “ the one he had written to Ginny when he’d discovered she’d put her name in for the tournament. Harry could just make out the upper-case letters of the missive: “Give 'em hell, Ginny”.
“George,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how he does it. How he even gets up in the morning sometimes, how he puts one foot in front of the other, after what happened.”
She glanced at the turtle still sitting on the table before looking at her friends. “You’re right. It is a game.” She pointed her wand at the animal. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do my best.”
With a flash, the turtle was gone, and in its place was a small, compact cardboard box. With a nod, Ginny turned on her heel, and marched over to the staircase, and up to bed.
Watching her go, no one spoke until Ron broke the silence with a cry. “Where on earth did McGonagall get box turtles?”
“Ready to go?” Harry asked, getting up from the table. His friends nodded, as they pushed their breakfast plates away and stood as well.
“If I could have a moment?” Oblongata called, heading toward the Gryffindors. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny paused and turned to the professor. Neville and Seamus looked up from the last bites of their meal as well.
Oblongata took a seat at the table, gesturing to the others to do the same. After they had sat down again, the professor sighed heavily. “I need a favour,” she admitted. “A big one,” she added.
The others all replied quickly that they would be willing to do anything.
Oblongata smiled ruefully at them and told them not to be so hasty. “You haven’t even heard it yet,” she pointed out.
“Well, we won’t know until you tell us, Mel,” Hermione pointed out matter-of-factly.
The professor smiled at her. “Do you remember,” she began, “ when I mentioned that many former Slytherins and Death Eater supporters had been seeking pardon and requesting to be allowed to return to work in the Wizarding World?”
The others nodded.
“Well, while I have been ably assisted by my former colleagues at the Ministry, including your father,” Oblongata nodded at Ginny and Ron, “and Dean has proved invaluable to me, there are turning out to be more requests than we are able to process. Each individual who asks pardon is required to demonstrate that they are willing and able to work or live alongside Muggles and Muggleborns, and that they are no longer a threat to those around them.” She sighed again.
“I was wondering if one of you would mind meeting with one such former Slytherin who is seeking to complete a mini Muggle Studies course in order to prepare for the Ministry’s required examination and interview process.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Ron remarked.
“Yeah,” Neville agreed, “what would we need to do?”
“Following a lesson plan that I would provide,” Oblongata replied, “you would simply see that all points were covered. I would do it myself or get Dean to, but as we are scheduled to travel to London the day after tomorrow to meet with Ministry officials, we won’t be able to.”
“I think one of us should be able to handle that,” Ginny remarked.
“Depending on who it was,” Seamus put in.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed with a laugh. “I wouldn’t do it for Malfoy.” Seamus smirked and nudged Ron in the side.
The professor was sorting through the pieces of parchment in her hand. “Malfoy?” she asked. “That name does sound familiar ...
“Count me out, then,” declared Ron quickly.
“Me, too,” Seamus said. “I wouldn’t help that git if you paid me.”
Hermione and Ginny exchanged doubtful glances.
Harry didn’t comment. He was watching Oblongata’s face carefully. He had a feeling ...
Sure enough, when Oblongata had found the parchment she’d sought, she announced the name they all dreaded, “Yes. The name here is a Draco Malfoy.”
Hermione looked apologetically at the professor. “I’m afraid we have too much history...” she told Oblongata.
“Me, too,” Ginny added as Neville nodded in agreement.
Oblongata shook her head sadly. “I understand,” she said, getting up from the table again. “Some of these former Death Eaters don’t realize the harm they have caused in the past makes it very difficult for us to help them now. This ...” She glanced at her paper again. “ ... Malfoy ... will have to wait until I return from the Ministry.”
As she turned to go, Harry startled them all by remarking quietly, “I’ll do it.”
Taken aback, Oblongata asked, “Are you sure?”
Amid the muttered remarks from his friends, Harry nodded.
“Yes.”
Oblongata’s airy, light-filled office was located in Gryffindor Tower, and overlooked the Black Lake. It was there, seated comfortably at the professor’s spacious cherry wood desk and watching the sunlight twinkle on the surface of the lake, that Harry waited for Malfoy. It wasn’t long before a brisk knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Harry called, turning from the window to face the door.
Draco looked older than his years, the skin around his eyes prematurely-lined. The white-blond hair and chiseled features were still the same, however. Harry was pleased to see the usual arrogant sneer was surprisingly absent.
Draco’s eyebrows rose slightly when he saw who was seated at the desk. “You,” he said. “Figured you’d be the last person who’d work with me, Potter.”
“I was,” Harry replied dryly.
Draco glanced around the office as he remarked, sardonically, “No one wanting to work closely with a former Death Eater? Can’t imagine why not.” His eyes slid back around to the desk. “Why’re you different, I wonder?”
“Two reasons,” Harry told him, leaning back in Oblongata’s chair, his eyes more on the bookcases lining the wall opposite than on the other man. “Mel needed someone. As a favour to her, I agreed.”
“Mel?”
“Professor Oblongata.”
Draco nodded slightly. “And the other reason?”
“No one else knows what I know. No one else saw what I saw.”
The tiniest crease appeared in Draco’s pale forehead. “Meaning?”
For the first time, Harry’s eyes met Draco’s. “When I could see into Voldemort’s mind last year, I witnessed what he did, saw what you had to watch, what you were forced to do.”
Harry could see that Draco’s jaw had clenched, and he suspected that the other man was recalling unpleasant memories.
“And I saw how much you hated it,” Harry added quietly.
Draco cleared his throat before giving Harry a stiff nod in acknowledgement of his words.
Suddenly feeling awkward, Harry reached for the parchment Oblongata had given him. “Right,” he said, with forced briskness, and beckoned Draco into the visitor’s chair across from him. “Mel’s left me a list. Let’s begin with her first item: ‘Common Words and Phrases Muggles Often Use ...’ ”