Chapter Twenty - Losses and Gains
December 25th 1997
“Hermione, Sirius is about to do it again.”
Lily’s words work Hermione immediately and she jumped out of bed, casting a quick spell on her blankets that made them rise up, making them look like she was still asleep beneath them. Then she slid into a gap between the wardrobe and the wall, waiting.
Just as he had the previous year (at the same time, if her memory was correct), Sirius burst through the door. “WAAAAAKE UP!”
“Aguamenti!” A jet of water shot from her wand and hit Sirius square in the face.
Most adults would get annoyed by this, but Sirius just laughed and conjured a towel. “That’s my girl! Between you, Harry, Fred and George, the Marauder legend will live on.”
Hermione just laughed and gave him a hug. “Happy Christmas! Although you can actually blame Lily for that one.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Sirius asked, kissing her forehead. “At least she’s okay.”
Hermione hadn’t seen James or Lily since she had crossed the Hogwarts wards in September, so she shared his relief. “You’d better let me wake Harry up though. He’s developed a habit of cursing first and asking later.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Sirius called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.
“Yeah, well, it is in this case,” Hermione muttered. She dressed quickly, leaving her hair in its braid, and slipped upstairs into Harry’s room.
For a second, Hermione paused, wondering how best to go about this. She never had to wake Harry at school; he seemed to have an in-built alarm clock that woke him at seven o’clock on the dot every morning without fail.
The few times the boys had to wake him, they had emerged with white faces and the occasional hive; jumping on the bed this year would be more likely to get her stunned – if she was lucky.
“Harry?” She called softly, perching on the edge of his mattress. “It’s time to get up.”
As he started to stir, Hermione carefully took his right hand so he couldn’t reach for his wand. “It’s Christmas Day. Time to get up.”
In a split second, Harry was holding her wrist, rather than the other way round. “Mione?”
Hermione smiled at him. “Hi Harry. Merry Christmas. You can let go now.”
Harry thought about it for a second. “Nah.” He tugged on her wrist and she went willingly, lying down beside him and nestling into his side. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Hermione assured him. “But you can grovel all you like.”
Harry gave a non-committal hum and Hermione sighed, feeling him relax against her again. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”
“It’s early,” Harry said, closing his eyes, “and I’m comfy.”
“So am I,” Hermione said, “but do you really want to be here when Sirius comes to get us?”
Harry was quiet for a few moments. “Alright, you’ve talked me out of it.”
“Probably a good idea.” Hermione rolled out of bed and stretched. “I’ve seen your mum this morning, by the way.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hermione.” He kissed her cheek. “Now get out of here so I can change.”
Hermione waited outside, leaning against the wall and tapping her foot impatiently, until Harry finally emerged, stretching leisurely.
“Oh, sorry, Hermione,” he said, with mock surprise. “Were you waiting for me?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Just for that, you don’t get your present.”
Harry gasped. “Not that! Anything but that! Is there anything I can do to make up for this?!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Drama queen,” she muttered, tugging his head down so she could kiss him. “If you stop, I’ll call it even.”
“Deal,” Harry said with a grin.
“Come on,” Hermione said, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go. The longer we stand here, the more likely it is that Padfoot drags us downstairs.”
As it turned out, they weren’t the last people downstairs, but then there weren’t many people expected that morning.
The Longbottoms and the Bones were spending the morning at Ravenscroft and the Barters were spending it in the guest suite; they would all, however, be there for Christmas dinner.
Jen and Addie were already in the family room, both looking tired, but happy.
“Morning,” Addie greeted with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Sorry it’s so early,” Jen added with a sigh. “But you know how my brother is.”
“We do.” Harry fell into the chair beside Addie. “Are you sure you want to marry him?”
Addie chuckled. “I know how to handle him, Harry; don’t worry.”
Sirius arrived now, followed by Draco or Daphne, who looked suspiciously damp.
“Why aren’t you wet?” Draco asked Hermione, sounding grumpy.
“Lily warned me,” Hermione said. “And I woke Harry up.”
“Probably the safest for everyone,” Daphne said, taking her own predicament with more grace than her housemate. “Aren’t we one short?”
“Right here,” Remus answered from behind her. “Breakfast should be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay then,” Jen said. “Merry Christmas everyone!” With a wave of her wand, gifts flew out from under the tree, landing on the laps of their recipients.
For a few moments, the room was filled with the wonderful noise of Christmas morning.
A tapping at the window interrupted their merriment, and Harry crossed to the window to let the owl in.
It flew straight to Hermione, bearing a letter with a Gringotts seal.
“It’s the wrong time of the month for a bank statement, isn’t it?” Jen asked with a frown.
“I think so,” Hermione said, slitting the letter open with her wand.
Lady Ravenclaw
Following the heinous attack upon your person in February 1994, during your second academic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The proceeds created by the basilisk responsible for the attack have been split between its victims. As of December 17th 1997, your vault has been credited for twenty thousand galleons and ten sickles.
Sincerely
Barchoke
Account Manager
Gringotts
Hermione gaped at the parchment for a few seconds. “Oh, Harry?” She asked sweetly. “Why are there twenty thousand extra galleons in my vault?”
“You forgot the ten sickles,” Harry said.
“What did you do?” Hermione asked.
“I sold the basilisk remains,” Harry said with a shrug. “The goblins looked over the stuff I sent them, sold it, and split the profits between everyone affected by the Chamber being opened.”
“So me, Ginny, Colin, Justin and Penelope?” Hermione asked.
“And Filch,” Harry added. “I don’t like the man, but he really suffered when Mrs Norris was petrified.”
Hermione smiled. “You’re a good man, Harry. And your parents are very proud of you. Did you sell all of it?”
“No,” Harry said. “I held back some parts and send half to Mandy and half to Snape for Christmas.”
“That was very generous, Harry,” Addie said. “At least you didn’t inherit your father’s penchant for pranking him.”
“Says who?” Harry asked. “It’ll take Snape ages to decide whether to open it, and another few hours to figure out how he should deal with it when I get back.”
***
Severus Snape did not particularly enjoy Christmas – he never had, even as a child.
But the Hogwarts house-elves were always in jubilant moods, which meant the food was even more superb than usual. This, in turn, meant his solitary breakfast in his quarters was much more enjoyable, as he opened gifts with a wave of his wand.
The only people he exchanged gifts with her Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Dumbledore – rather predictably – had sent him some woollen socks and a packet of sherbet lemons.
The socks he levitated to a drawer, the sherbet lemons he destroyed with a sneer. How Dumbledore expected a Potions Master to miss the loyalty potions they were laced with, he didn’t know.
McGonagall had sent him a new book on the properties of different potions. It was one he’d had his eye on for a while and was very grateful for.”
This year, however, there was an extra present and he examined it carefully from every angle, before unwrapping it to reveal a small black box, with a note that read:
Professor Snape,
With best wishes for Christmas and the year ahead,
Harry J. S. Potter
Why would Harry Potter be sending him anything?
Against his better judgement, he opened the box and his mouth fell open at the neatly labelled and packaged basilisk parts.
He had heard the rumour about Potter killing a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, but Dumbledore had told him there was no truth in the story.
Yet here was the proof – enough scales, tendons and venom for hundreds – if not thousands – of potions.
It was a happy Christmas indeed.
***
Christmas in the Clearwater house was just as quiet.
Like her ex-boyfriend, Penelope had intended on entering the Ministry after she graduated, but, unlike Percy, she had quickly become disillusioned with the bigotry and the falseness of the establishment, especially when less qualified candidates were chosen over her time and time again simply because they were purebloods.
When the Ministry categorically denied Voldemort’s return, she decided that the Ministry was not where she wanted to work at all – certainly not in its current format.
Penelope wasn’t stupid – she remembered all too clearly what had happened in her sixth year, even if Percy didn’t. They had argued over whether Harry Potter was lying and she had ended the relationship – however much it broke her heart to do so, she knew she couldn’t have a future with a man who turned his back on his family in favour of his career.
Even now Voldemort’s return was public knowledge, she knew he hadn’t swallowed his pride and returned home.
After their break-up, she had taken it upon herself to write to Molly Weasley, apologising on his behalf and informing her that the relationship was over.
Her reply had brought a fresh wave of tears, as had the Weasley sweater that had arrived that Christmas.
This year was no different and her parents watched gratefully as Penelope pulled the sweater on, offering them a home-made mince pie as she did.
Now she’d given up on the Ministry, Penelope dreamed of becoming a reporter. She refused point-blank to work for the Ministry-led Prophet, so was currently working as a secretary for a law-form.
Money and breeding opened doors in the wizarding world and, unfortunately, she had neither.
Then the owl arrived and Penelope was left dumbstruck by the news. Twenty thousand galleons? For her?
Realising that Harry Potter – for it must have been him – had just come to her rescue a second time, she immediately set about writing him a letter of gratitude.
***
Similar scenes were played out at the Finch-Fletchleys’ and the Creeveys’, although the latter involved a flood of tears from Colin’s mother.
At the Burrow, things were different, mainly because Ginny had a moment’s warning.
“Ginny, dear, you’ve got a letter,” Molly called, entering the living room with a tray of hot chocolate and an owl on her shoulder.
Did you just get a letter? Draco’s voice asked.
Yes. Why?
Make sure you’re sitting down.
Ginny took the letter, perching on the sofa. It was addressed to Lady Ginevra Malfoy, which explained the unhappy expression on her mother’s face – the fact that she hadn’t had a coronary was a miracle in itself.
Maybe she’s coming to terms with it.
“Boys, would you stop leaving these wands around!” Molly cried, brandishing a rubber chicken.
Or she’s distracted.
Ginny opened the letter and her jaw dropped. “What the …?!”
“What’s up, Ginny?” Ron asked.
Ginny cleared her throat. “Following the heinous attack upon your person in February 1994, during your first academic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The proceeds created by the basilisk responsible for the attack have been split between its victims. As of December 17th 1997, your vault has been credited for twenty thousand galleons and ten sickles.”
“WHAT?!”
As her family erupted into chatter, Ginny rubbed her eyes. Am I dreaming?
No. Hermione’s in shock as well.
I bet she is. Any way we can talk him out of it?
Why bother? Draco gave a mental shrug. Either you accept it or the money goes into Harry’s vault.
Ginny sighed. Fine.
“Ginny, dear, we have to give it back,” Molly was saying.
“No,” Ginny said. “All that’ll happen is that the money goes back into Harry’s vault. And it’s not just me. Hermione got a letter too – which means so did Penelope, Justin and Colin. You know what Harry’s like – he won’t profit from this; that’s why he won’t keep a knut. Besides, it’s in my private vault, not the family one.”
“She’s right, Molly,” Arthur said quietly.
Molly sighed. “Well, I suppose if you put it that way …”
Is it safe, or should we start barricading the door?
Shut up, you.
***
As lunch approached, the Barters came downstairs and the Longbottoms and the Bones came through the floo. While everyone greeted each other, Hermione sat down next to Jen, who was picking up the discarded wrapping paper. “Are you going to tell us?”
Jen glanced at her. “You know?”
Hermione grinned, nodding. “Uh huh. Unless I’m seriously misreading.”
“You’re not,” Jen said, standing up and vanishing the paper. “Remus? It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Sirius asked blankly.
Jen smiled, taking Remus’s hand as he came to stand beside her. “We have an announcement to make.”
Alice’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that slipped out. “You’re …?”
Jen nodded. “We’re having a baby.”
Harry bounced to his feet, giving his godmother a hug. “Congratulations!”
“Blimey, you kept that quiet!” Sirius said, following suit. “How long have you known?”
“A few weeks,” Remus admitted. “We wanted to make sure everything was okay before we told everyone.”
“And is it?” Alice asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Jen answered, rubbing her stomach. “I got Andie to check me over. I’m four months along, so I’m due in May. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Well, you’ve been a bit distracted,” Draco said.
Amidst all of the congratulations, Hermione suddenly felt a spike of emotion that didn’t quite fit, a sharp shooting pain that brought tears to her eyes.
A quick sweep of the room told her who.
“Padfoot?” Hermione said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “You need to go and check on Addie.”
Sirius frowned, looking around the room. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “But you need to find her.”
Sirius gave her a smile. “I’ll find her, Kitten; don’t worry.”
It proved harder than he expected; Addie wasn’t anywhere he expected her to be.
Finally, he resorted to checking the house room by room. And he found her, perhaps unsurprisingly, in Harry’s old nursery, which had yet to be dismantled.
She was sitting in the window seat, where Lily used to sit with Harry, gazing out at the grounds.
“Addie? Are you okay?”
She sighed. “I’m being silly.”
“Right,” Sirius said, approaching her slowly. “It’s Christmas Day, and you’re hiding in an abandoned nursery because you’re … being silly.”
Addie managed a small smile. “Alright, fair point.”
Sirius sat down next to her. “Talk to me.”
“It is silly,” Addie said. “I knew Jen was pregnant as soon as I got home. I was happy for her. I am happy for her.”
“But?” Sirius prompted.
Addie heaved another sigh, still talking to the window rather than to him. “When Andie told me I couldn’t have children … it was like … okay, I’m alive and I’m still sane. It felt like a small price to pay for my life and my sanity and my dignity and … I’d never really been that maternal, you know? I mean, I thought about it and I’m sure if the war hadn’t happened, you and I would have had children, but … it was never … I wasn’t …” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to word it.”
“It wasn’t the be all and end all,” Sirius said.
“Yes,” Addie said, finally looking at him. “Exactly. Maddie, may she rest in peace, she was going to be a mother. That was going to be her life. It wasn’t going to be mine.” She dropped her gaze to her knees. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I … I want a baby, Sirius, and they took that away from me. And it’s not okay and it shouldn’t be okay.”
“Ads …” Sirius held out his arms and she slid along the window seat into them. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could make this better.”
“I know,” Addie said. “I didn’t say all that to make you feel bad, Sirius; I said it because you asked. It’s not your fault.”
“Just because it’s not my fault doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could fix it,” Sirius said quietly. “If I could give you a child, Addie …”
“But you have,” Addie said, lifting her head. “You have given me a child, Sirius. And she’s not mine by blood, but that doesn’t matter.”
As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door and Hermione stuck her head in. “Are you both alright?”
“We’re fine, Kitten,” Sirius said with a smile.
“Should I go?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Addie said, waving her over. “We were just talking.”
Hermione came and sat on Addie’s other side. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Addie said, managing a smile.
“You know,” Hermione said quietly, “I might not need another mother the way I needed a second dad, but I’m happy to make room for one.”
Addie’s smile widened and held out an arm, inviting Hermione into the embrace. “Then I take it you won’t mind if I tell you I already think of you like a daughter.”
Hermione shook her head, as Sirius wrapped an arm around her as well. “I don’t mind at all.”
Addie pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. Yes, she would be okay – in time.
“Hermione, Sirius is about to do it again.”
Lily’s words work Hermione immediately and she jumped out of bed, casting a quick spell on her blankets that made them rise up, making them look like she was still asleep beneath them. Then she slid into a gap between the wardrobe and the wall, waiting.
Just as he had the previous year (at the same time, if her memory was correct), Sirius burst through the door. “WAAAAAKE UP!”
“Aguamenti!” A jet of water shot from her wand and hit Sirius square in the face.
Most adults would get annoyed by this, but Sirius just laughed and conjured a towel. “That’s my girl! Between you, Harry, Fred and George, the Marauder legend will live on.”
Hermione just laughed and gave him a hug. “Happy Christmas! Although you can actually blame Lily for that one.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Sirius asked, kissing her forehead. “At least she’s okay.”
Hermione hadn’t seen James or Lily since she had crossed the Hogwarts wards in September, so she shared his relief. “You’d better let me wake Harry up though. He’s developed a habit of cursing first and asking later.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Sirius called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.
“Yeah, well, it is in this case,” Hermione muttered. She dressed quickly, leaving her hair in its braid, and slipped upstairs into Harry’s room.
For a second, Hermione paused, wondering how best to go about this. She never had to wake Harry at school; he seemed to have an in-built alarm clock that woke him at seven o’clock on the dot every morning without fail.
The few times the boys had to wake him, they had emerged with white faces and the occasional hive; jumping on the bed this year would be more likely to get her stunned – if she was lucky.
“Harry?” She called softly, perching on the edge of his mattress. “It’s time to get up.”
As he started to stir, Hermione carefully took his right hand so he couldn’t reach for his wand. “It’s Christmas Day. Time to get up.”
In a split second, Harry was holding her wrist, rather than the other way round. “Mione?”
Hermione smiled at him. “Hi Harry. Merry Christmas. You can let go now.”
Harry thought about it for a second. “Nah.” He tugged on her wrist and she went willingly, lying down beside him and nestling into his side. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Hermione assured him. “But you can grovel all you like.”
Harry gave a non-committal hum and Hermione sighed, feeling him relax against her again. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”
“It’s early,” Harry said, closing his eyes, “and I’m comfy.”
“So am I,” Hermione said, “but do you really want to be here when Sirius comes to get us?”
Harry was quiet for a few moments. “Alright, you’ve talked me out of it.”
“Probably a good idea.” Hermione rolled out of bed and stretched. “I’ve seen your mum this morning, by the way.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hermione.” He kissed her cheek. “Now get out of here so I can change.”
Hermione waited outside, leaning against the wall and tapping her foot impatiently, until Harry finally emerged, stretching leisurely.
“Oh, sorry, Hermione,” he said, with mock surprise. “Were you waiting for me?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Just for that, you don’t get your present.”
Harry gasped. “Not that! Anything but that! Is there anything I can do to make up for this?!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Drama queen,” she muttered, tugging his head down so she could kiss him. “If you stop, I’ll call it even.”
“Deal,” Harry said with a grin.
“Come on,” Hermione said, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go. The longer we stand here, the more likely it is that Padfoot drags us downstairs.”
As it turned out, they weren’t the last people downstairs, but then there weren’t many people expected that morning.
The Longbottoms and the Bones were spending the morning at Ravenscroft and the Barters were spending it in the guest suite; they would all, however, be there for Christmas dinner.
Jen and Addie were already in the family room, both looking tired, but happy.
“Morning,” Addie greeted with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Sorry it’s so early,” Jen added with a sigh. “But you know how my brother is.”
“We do.” Harry fell into the chair beside Addie. “Are you sure you want to marry him?”
Addie chuckled. “I know how to handle him, Harry; don’t worry.”
Sirius arrived now, followed by Draco or Daphne, who looked suspiciously damp.
“Why aren’t you wet?” Draco asked Hermione, sounding grumpy.
“Lily warned me,” Hermione said. “And I woke Harry up.”
“Probably the safest for everyone,” Daphne said, taking her own predicament with more grace than her housemate. “Aren’t we one short?”
“Right here,” Remus answered from behind her. “Breakfast should be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay then,” Jen said. “Merry Christmas everyone!” With a wave of her wand, gifts flew out from under the tree, landing on the laps of their recipients.
For a few moments, the room was filled with the wonderful noise of Christmas morning.
A tapping at the window interrupted their merriment, and Harry crossed to the window to let the owl in.
It flew straight to Hermione, bearing a letter with a Gringotts seal.
“It’s the wrong time of the month for a bank statement, isn’t it?” Jen asked with a frown.
“I think so,” Hermione said, slitting the letter open with her wand.
Lady Ravenclaw
Following the heinous attack upon your person in February 1994, during your second academic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The proceeds created by the basilisk responsible for the attack have been split between its victims. As of December 17th 1997, your vault has been credited for twenty thousand galleons and ten sickles.
Sincerely
Barchoke
Account Manager
Gringotts
Hermione gaped at the parchment for a few seconds. “Oh, Harry?” She asked sweetly. “Why are there twenty thousand extra galleons in my vault?”
“You forgot the ten sickles,” Harry said.
“What did you do?” Hermione asked.
“I sold the basilisk remains,” Harry said with a shrug. “The goblins looked over the stuff I sent them, sold it, and split the profits between everyone affected by the Chamber being opened.”
“So me, Ginny, Colin, Justin and Penelope?” Hermione asked.
“And Filch,” Harry added. “I don’t like the man, but he really suffered when Mrs Norris was petrified.”
Hermione smiled. “You’re a good man, Harry. And your parents are very proud of you. Did you sell all of it?”
“No,” Harry said. “I held back some parts and send half to Mandy and half to Snape for Christmas.”
“That was very generous, Harry,” Addie said. “At least you didn’t inherit your father’s penchant for pranking him.”
“Says who?” Harry asked. “It’ll take Snape ages to decide whether to open it, and another few hours to figure out how he should deal with it when I get back.”
***
Severus Snape did not particularly enjoy Christmas – he never had, even as a child.
But the Hogwarts house-elves were always in jubilant moods, which meant the food was even more superb than usual. This, in turn, meant his solitary breakfast in his quarters was much more enjoyable, as he opened gifts with a wave of his wand.
The only people he exchanged gifts with her Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Dumbledore – rather predictably – had sent him some woollen socks and a packet of sherbet lemons.
The socks he levitated to a drawer, the sherbet lemons he destroyed with a sneer. How Dumbledore expected a Potions Master to miss the loyalty potions they were laced with, he didn’t know.
McGonagall had sent him a new book on the properties of different potions. It was one he’d had his eye on for a while and was very grateful for.”
This year, however, there was an extra present and he examined it carefully from every angle, before unwrapping it to reveal a small black box, with a note that read:
Professor Snape,
With best wishes for Christmas and the year ahead,
Harry J. S. Potter
Why would Harry Potter be sending him anything?
Against his better judgement, he opened the box and his mouth fell open at the neatly labelled and packaged basilisk parts.
He had heard the rumour about Potter killing a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, but Dumbledore had told him there was no truth in the story.
Yet here was the proof – enough scales, tendons and venom for hundreds – if not thousands – of potions.
It was a happy Christmas indeed.
***
Christmas in the Clearwater house was just as quiet.
Like her ex-boyfriend, Penelope had intended on entering the Ministry after she graduated, but, unlike Percy, she had quickly become disillusioned with the bigotry and the falseness of the establishment, especially when less qualified candidates were chosen over her time and time again simply because they were purebloods.
When the Ministry categorically denied Voldemort’s return, she decided that the Ministry was not where she wanted to work at all – certainly not in its current format.
Penelope wasn’t stupid – she remembered all too clearly what had happened in her sixth year, even if Percy didn’t. They had argued over whether Harry Potter was lying and she had ended the relationship – however much it broke her heart to do so, she knew she couldn’t have a future with a man who turned his back on his family in favour of his career.
Even now Voldemort’s return was public knowledge, she knew he hadn’t swallowed his pride and returned home.
After their break-up, she had taken it upon herself to write to Molly Weasley, apologising on his behalf and informing her that the relationship was over.
Her reply had brought a fresh wave of tears, as had the Weasley sweater that had arrived that Christmas.
This year was no different and her parents watched gratefully as Penelope pulled the sweater on, offering them a home-made mince pie as she did.
Now she’d given up on the Ministry, Penelope dreamed of becoming a reporter. She refused point-blank to work for the Ministry-led Prophet, so was currently working as a secretary for a law-form.
Money and breeding opened doors in the wizarding world and, unfortunately, she had neither.
Then the owl arrived and Penelope was left dumbstruck by the news. Twenty thousand galleons? For her?
Realising that Harry Potter – for it must have been him – had just come to her rescue a second time, she immediately set about writing him a letter of gratitude.
***
Similar scenes were played out at the Finch-Fletchleys’ and the Creeveys’, although the latter involved a flood of tears from Colin’s mother.
At the Burrow, things were different, mainly because Ginny had a moment’s warning.
“Ginny, dear, you’ve got a letter,” Molly called, entering the living room with a tray of hot chocolate and an owl on her shoulder.
Did you just get a letter? Draco’s voice asked.
Yes. Why?
Make sure you’re sitting down.
Ginny took the letter, perching on the sofa. It was addressed to Lady Ginevra Malfoy, which explained the unhappy expression on her mother’s face – the fact that she hadn’t had a coronary was a miracle in itself.
Maybe she’s coming to terms with it.
“Boys, would you stop leaving these wands around!” Molly cried, brandishing a rubber chicken.
Or she’s distracted.
Ginny opened the letter and her jaw dropped. “What the …?!”
“What’s up, Ginny?” Ron asked.
Ginny cleared her throat. “Following the heinous attack upon your person in February 1994, during your first academic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The proceeds created by the basilisk responsible for the attack have been split between its victims. As of December 17th 1997, your vault has been credited for twenty thousand galleons and ten sickles.”
“WHAT?!”
As her family erupted into chatter, Ginny rubbed her eyes. Am I dreaming?
No. Hermione’s in shock as well.
I bet she is. Any way we can talk him out of it?
Why bother? Draco gave a mental shrug. Either you accept it or the money goes into Harry’s vault.
Ginny sighed. Fine.
“Ginny, dear, we have to give it back,” Molly was saying.
“No,” Ginny said. “All that’ll happen is that the money goes back into Harry’s vault. And it’s not just me. Hermione got a letter too – which means so did Penelope, Justin and Colin. You know what Harry’s like – he won’t profit from this; that’s why he won’t keep a knut. Besides, it’s in my private vault, not the family one.”
“She’s right, Molly,” Arthur said quietly.
Molly sighed. “Well, I suppose if you put it that way …”
Is it safe, or should we start barricading the door?
Shut up, you.
***
As lunch approached, the Barters came downstairs and the Longbottoms and the Bones came through the floo. While everyone greeted each other, Hermione sat down next to Jen, who was picking up the discarded wrapping paper. “Are you going to tell us?”
Jen glanced at her. “You know?”
Hermione grinned, nodding. “Uh huh. Unless I’m seriously misreading.”
“You’re not,” Jen said, standing up and vanishing the paper. “Remus? It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Sirius asked blankly.
Jen smiled, taking Remus’s hand as he came to stand beside her. “We have an announcement to make.”
Alice’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that slipped out. “You’re …?”
Jen nodded. “We’re having a baby.”
Harry bounced to his feet, giving his godmother a hug. “Congratulations!”
“Blimey, you kept that quiet!” Sirius said, following suit. “How long have you known?”
“A few weeks,” Remus admitted. “We wanted to make sure everything was okay before we told everyone.”
“And is it?” Alice asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Jen answered, rubbing her stomach. “I got Andie to check me over. I’m four months along, so I’m due in May. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Well, you’ve been a bit distracted,” Draco said.
Amidst all of the congratulations, Hermione suddenly felt a spike of emotion that didn’t quite fit, a sharp shooting pain that brought tears to her eyes.
A quick sweep of the room told her who.
“Padfoot?” Hermione said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “You need to go and check on Addie.”
Sirius frowned, looking around the room. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “But you need to find her.”
Sirius gave her a smile. “I’ll find her, Kitten; don’t worry.”
It proved harder than he expected; Addie wasn’t anywhere he expected her to be.
Finally, he resorted to checking the house room by room. And he found her, perhaps unsurprisingly, in Harry’s old nursery, which had yet to be dismantled.
She was sitting in the window seat, where Lily used to sit with Harry, gazing out at the grounds.
“Addie? Are you okay?”
She sighed. “I’m being silly.”
“Right,” Sirius said, approaching her slowly. “It’s Christmas Day, and you’re hiding in an abandoned nursery because you’re … being silly.”
Addie managed a small smile. “Alright, fair point.”
Sirius sat down next to her. “Talk to me.”
“It is silly,” Addie said. “I knew Jen was pregnant as soon as I got home. I was happy for her. I am happy for her.”
“But?” Sirius prompted.
Addie heaved another sigh, still talking to the window rather than to him. “When Andie told me I couldn’t have children … it was like … okay, I’m alive and I’m still sane. It felt like a small price to pay for my life and my sanity and my dignity and … I’d never really been that maternal, you know? I mean, I thought about it and I’m sure if the war hadn’t happened, you and I would have had children, but … it was never … I wasn’t …” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to word it.”
“It wasn’t the be all and end all,” Sirius said.
“Yes,” Addie said, finally looking at him. “Exactly. Maddie, may she rest in peace, she was going to be a mother. That was going to be her life. It wasn’t going to be mine.” She dropped her gaze to her knees. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I … I want a baby, Sirius, and they took that away from me. And it’s not okay and it shouldn’t be okay.”
“Ads …” Sirius held out his arms and she slid along the window seat into them. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could make this better.”
“I know,” Addie said. “I didn’t say all that to make you feel bad, Sirius; I said it because you asked. It’s not your fault.”
“Just because it’s not my fault doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could fix it,” Sirius said quietly. “If I could give you a child, Addie …”
“But you have,” Addie said, lifting her head. “You have given me a child, Sirius. And she’s not mine by blood, but that doesn’t matter.”
As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door and Hermione stuck her head in. “Are you both alright?”
“We’re fine, Kitten,” Sirius said with a smile.
“Should I go?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Addie said, waving her over. “We were just talking.”
Hermione came and sat on Addie’s other side. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Addie said, managing a smile.
“You know,” Hermione said quietly, “I might not need another mother the way I needed a second dad, but I’m happy to make room for one.”
Addie’s smile widened and held out an arm, inviting Hermione into the embrace. “Then I take it you won’t mind if I tell you I already think of you like a daughter.”
Hermione shook her head, as Sirius wrapped an arm around her as well. “I don’t mind at all.”
Addie pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. Yes, she would be okay – in time.
