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SIYE Time:18:34 on 28th March 2024
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A Proper Epilogue
By TomBombadil

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance
Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 188
Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him?
Hitcount: Story Total: 74182; Chapter Total: 3110





Author's Notes:
This is a short one, but a critical transition!




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CHAPTER 19 — PUZZLE PIECES (OR DEUS EX MACHINA?)


“I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, but I wasn’t aware that my mother had hosted a party last night,” said Pansy. “Truth be told, it didn’t seem like she would have been in the mood for company.”

“It did strike me as a little odd,” replied Narcissa, “given the situation with Malcolm. But she was inviting all the old crowd … Tina Mulciber, Alison Avery, Liz Yaxley … still the timing seemed off.”

“That, and the fact that she threw me out of the house,” grumbled Pansy.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Narcissa. “She didn’t blame you …”

“Could we please not talk about this here?” implored Pansy, her facial expression nearly begging the older witch not to ask questions.

Throughout the entire exchange, Harry had remained quietly at their table in the alcove, hanging onto every word. Hannah had proven almost clairvoyant in her decision to seat Harry and his group where they would not be readily on display. When at last Narcissa and Draco brought their awkward conversation to a close and sought to find their own table, Harry turned back to face Ginny, Hermione, and Ron.

“Is anyone else thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked everyone at the table.

“What’s that, mate?” said Ron.

“That we might want to look closer to home for the killers of Mrs. Longbottom and Professor Sprout,” said Harry excitedly. “We know that Mr. Parkinson told Pansy to flee from the Burrow if things went wrong and that their only contingency plan was based upon escape and denial, not revenge.”

“And that no one had anticipated that Pansy would be the one to derail their plans,” added Ginny, immediately picking up on Harry’s line of thought..

“Which left Malcolm in a foreign country waiting for their leader instead of taking charge himself,” Harry continued.

“But Mrs. Parkinson was right here and angry enough to throw her only daughter out of the house,” observed Ginny.

“I’ll bet she was angry enough to take things into her own hands — maybe angry enough to take the Elder Wand before anyone realized how inadequately we had protected the wand! Then they could worry about killing me later; all because I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“We’ve been through this before and we’ll have no more of it now,” said Ginny, staring a hole through her husband. “It doesn’t help anything for you to drown in your own guilt and self-criticism. You were trying to give Voldemort the opportunity to repent, not providing a playbook to the forces of Evil.”

“So, what’s next?” asked Ron, clearly picking up on Ginny’s efforts to get Harry out of his own head.

“Clearly, we need to talk to Kingsley,” replied Hermione. “And we’d better try to get the Malfoys to come along. I don’t trust those two even a little bit. We can’t leave them pondering the possibilities of joining forces with Pansy’s mum.”

“Better yet, let’s see if we can get Kingsley to come here,” Harry suggested, rising from his seat and making his way toward the back door. “Keep your eyes on Draco and Mrs. Malfoy until I get back.”

“Okay,” Ginny replied distractedly, her eyes obviously locked on Pansy.

In response, Harry also shifted his attention to Pansy, who still stood in the same place where she had initially greeted the Malfoys. Under other circumstances the sight might have been rather hilarious, for Harry’s former adversary appeared dumbstruck, her hand towel lying at her feet while the magenta Quick-Quotes-Quill still hovered beside her shoulder, ready to record the next customer’s order. Given the events of the last twenty-four hours, however, he saw only tragedy. In addition to the loss of the child he and Ginny had created, four other wizarding families who had somehow survived the latest Blood War were now irreparably harmed.

The Longbottom line had been reduced to Neville and his mentally disabled parents, who remained forever lost in St. Mungo’s. Harry noted with sadness that he had not known enough about Pomona Sprout in order to understand what was left of her family. And, even if there had been a certain sense of justice to some of the recent developments, Harry couldn’t help but be saddened by the irony that the Malfoy and Parkinson families were now damaged in fashions similar to the fates suffered by the Potters, Weasleys, Tonkses, Lupins, Creeveys, and a nearly endless list of other friends and foes. Undoubtedly, Harry reflected, “the cost of war was nearly insufferable — surpassed only by the cost of passive acquiescence to evil.”

Taking stock of his wife’s obvious concern for Pansy, Harry reconsidered what he had asked and modified his requests.

“On second thought, maybe you could keep an eye out for the Malfoys?” he asked of Ron and Hermione. “Please don’t let them leave until I’ve made contact with Kingsley.”

“Okay, mate,” answered Ron.

“And, Ginny, perhaps you could …” Harry began, before being interrupted in mid-sentence.

“… take care of Pansy,” concluded Ginny, reading her husband’s mind.




Pansy was flushed with humiliation and praying to be anywhere other than where she was at the moment. She couldn’t think of two people she could have been less pleased to see in her current situation, with the possible exception of her mother and father, and it had been made all the worse by the fact that her uncomfortable encounter had taken place in front Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Something about being thoroughly embarrassed in front of both her former conspirators and her new associates served to clarify exactly how alone she suddenly was in the wizarding world.

Her shoulders drooped noticeably while she stared hopelessly at the floor where her hand towel had fallen unnoticed by anyone else in the room. With absolutely no idea what next to do, Pansy stood as if anchored permanently to the barroom floor.

“Could I help you with that?” asked Ginny, stooping to pick up the fallen rag.

It took a few moments for the raven-haired witch to respond to Ginny’s presence, but eventually her eyes blinked and her voice answered hollowly, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I was offering to help,” Ginny replied, slipping one arm around Pansy’s shoulders and guiding her a few steps across the floor to the seat Harry had vacated only a few moments before.

“Thank you,” Pansy gasped while taking the empty seat.

“Are you working the bar alone tonight?” Ginny asked softly.

“Only until seven,” answered Pansy, “when Tom is scheduled to come in. I’m just filling in for Hannah.”

“I see,” said Ginny, turning to face her brother. “What time is it now, Ron?”

“Quarter of,” Ron replied, checking the watch his parents had given him for his seventeenth birthday.

“I’m going to touch base with Hannah,” said Ginny, hoping to find some support for Pansy to cover the short time period before Tom was scheduled to start his shift.

“No!” exclaimed Pansy. “I can handle my own commitments.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ginny. “I’m certain Hannah would be happy to come down and give you some relief.”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Pansy, sounding a bit defensive. “Hannah has been very kind to me, and she and Neville have much bigger problems to deal with than I have. It’s just that the last people I wanted to see were Draco and his mum. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s embarrassing.”

“That is ridiculous,” interjected Hermione, although the tone of her voice contradicted the harsh words of her statement. “It’s the Malfoys who ought to be embarrassed to make an appearance in public, Pansy.”

“That’s right!” added Ginny. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact you should be proud of yourself.”

“Indeed you should!” echoed Hermione. “You’ve done an honorable thing by saving Harry and Ginny, and you’re doing an honorable thing by working for a living. It’s a lot more than you can say for Draco and his mum.”

Except for the time Narcissa saved Harry’s life by lying to Voldemort, thought Ginny, but deciding not to contradict Hermione’s efforts to praise Pansy. At any rate, she had only done that to protect her son.

Pansy offered a sad smile to both Ginny and Hermione, still standing where she had from the beginning of their conversation. At last, she squared her shoulders, and made her way to a table of newly arrived patrons. As Pansy walked away, Ginny turned her attention to Ron, who had remained mysteriously silent throughout the discussion. She was tempted to say something to him about his appalling lack of interest in Pansy’s situation but held her tongue when she noticed how intensely he was studying Draco and Narcissa as they whispered animatedly back and forth across their table.

“Anyone else think those two are putting on a bit of a show?” asked Ron, tilting his head toward the Malfoys’ table.

“But for what purpose?” asked Hermione, a studious look creasing her brow.



“Haven’t we been here long enough?” asked Draco uncomfortably. While only a few eyes were actually locked upon the Malfoy table, Draco felt like he was on display for the entire wizarding world.

“We’ve only been here for five minutes,” Narcissa answered softly. “Just relax and carry on normally.”

“I wouldn’t normally be in a place like this, Mother!” huffed Draco, frustration lacing every word. “Malfoys don’t frequent institutions like the Leaky-bleeding-Cauldron.”

“If we are going to be seen, son, we have to go where ordinary witches and wizards congregate,” answered Narcissa. “And, Draco, if you consider yourself too good to visit this sort of place, then certainly you are above such common language.”

“Father would never have lowered himself to be seen here and you know it,” Draco replied, allowing his frustrated tone of voice to transition into outright sarcasm.

“And look where that got him,” said Narcissa, her voice flat and utterly devoid of emotion.

His mother’s reprimand left Draco momentarily speechless. Only a few days earlier, he had said much the same thing to the deceased father he was now trying so hard to emulate.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“That’s alright, son,” replied Narcissa, “but things have changed dramatically. Your father would have done things differently, returning to public life at the Ministry instead of the Leaky Cauldron. However, that was during the administration of Cornelius Fudge and at a time before the Malfoy name had been desecrated by sycophantic servitude to the Dark Lord and a failed assassination attempt upon the wizard who brought about his downfall.”

Draco’s eyes shifted toward the floor, suddenly unable to face his mother. At last he managed to clear his voice and said, “It sounds so ugly when you put it that way.”

“I don’t know any other way to put it, and it’s critically important that we deal with reality, Draco. Anything less and we might still lose everything.”




After an absence of fifteen minutes, Harry rejoined Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.
“Anything interesting going on?”

“Not a thing, mate,” said Ron, his gaze still locked upon Narcissa and Draco.

“I’d guess that’s about to change,” said Harry, a note of intrigue highlighting his voice.

“How so?” asked Ron.

“Well, I had an interesting visit with Kingsley when he answered my Patronus.”

“So, what’s he going to do?” asked Ginny impatiently.

“He found the information about Diana Parkinson just as interesting as we did, and he doesn’t want to waste a single moment more. In fact …” Harry began before a general commotion rippled across the pub.

As one, every head turned toward the front entrance to the Leaky Cauldrom as the daunting form of Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly filled the doorway. Taking advantage of the momentary turmoil, the foursome gathered their beverages and shifted quickly to a table immediately behind the seats occupied by Draco and Narcissa.

Simultaneously, a pair of Aurors entered through the back doorway. With no more than a quick glance about the room, the Minister for Magic walked directly to the Malfoys’ table.

“Mind if I join you, Narcissa?” he asked courteously.

“Is there a problem, Minister?” she asked in reply.

“Not at all,” he answered, smiling. “I just have a couple of questions for you.”

“I honestly don’t know what more either Draco or I could add at this point. We gave you full access to everything already.”

“New questions keep cropping up, so … if I could please join you for a little while?”

“Of course,” she said, sighing. “Draco and I are happy to do whatever we can to assist the Ministry.”

“Why do I get the feeling that while you may be willing to help out, you aren’t really pleased to do so?” said the Minister.

“I think you’re reading a little too much into things, Minister. Draco and I are more than willing to help out. In fact, we are anxious to prove our desire to be full participants in the new administration. It’s just that we get a little weary of being lumped as one with Lucius, when neither Draco nor I were co-conspirators in his plans.”

As one, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron drew deep breaths. Harry wondered how Kingsley might react to such a blatant fabrication — at least as far as Mrs. Malfoy’s statement applied to Draco — yet he dared not speak and call attention to their presence at the next table.

“Please, Narcissa,” said Kingsley, pulling up a chair. “Based on everything we’ve learned so far, I suspect the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will concur that there is no need to prosecute either you or Draco for your parts in the plot to kill Harry and Ginny Potter. However, you’re pushing your luck with all this feigned innocence.”

“Feigned innocence?” protested Narcissa. From his location, Harry was certain that he heard a huff of indignation escaping from the witch’s lips.

“Yes,” Kingsley answered calmly, “feigned innocence.” The Minister’s dispassionate display left Harry more impressed than ever with Kingsley’s capacity for self-control. “We could argue all night about whether or not you had a moral duty to report your husband’s murderous plot to the authorities. However, I cannot accept — will not accept — that your behavior over the past week was in any way ‘innocent.’ Not your behavior and certainly not Draco’s.”

“I see,” said Mrs. Malfoy, her voice diminished in both force and indignation.

“So, if you are, indeed, anxious,” he repeated, practically mocking Narcissa in the process, “I suggest the two of you cooperate immediately, and as completely as you possibly can.”

Narcissa’s eyes gravitated to the tightly intertwined fingers in her lap, telling Harry that she was buying time to consider her response without further input from either her son or the Minister for Magic. At last, she shuffled slightly, allowed a tiny sigh to escape from her lips, and to Harry’s total surprise, looked up to face the imposing wizard with a composed smile.

“I’m sorry to have overreacted,” she uttered softly. “By all means, I’ll be happy to answer any questions or provide any insights I can offer.”

“Then why don’t we start with whatever you can tell me about the invitation Diana Parkinson extended to you last night?”

Harry would have thought it impossible that his attention could be wrestled away from the drama unwinding in front on him, but the sound of shattering glass caused him to look away from the discussion between Kingsley and Narcissa. Pansy Parkinson was standing amidst a collection of broken glass, scattered salt, and pepper packets, looking as if she had been struck dumb. Obviously the witch who had saved him from certain death had drawn the same conclusion that had already occurred to Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. Who besides Diana Parkinson and her assembled group of Death Eaters’ wives could have been more highly motivated to bring Lucius Malfoy’s failed plot to fruition?

“There really isn’t much more to tell, Minister. Diana flooed me with an invitation to get together at her house with Tina Mulciber, Alison Avery, and Liz Yaxley.”

“And she didn’t tell you the purpose of your gathering?”

Their gathering, not mine. I didn’t attend, and when I told her I couldn’t make it, she didn’t give me any additional information,” Narcissa answered.

“Just an impromptu get together only a few hours after your husband was killed by her daughter, and Malcolm had run off to Romania — all in an effort to murder Harry Potter and seize control of the world’s most powerful wand.”

“My mother has made no effort to deny what happened yesterday,” Draco interjected.

“As for Diana’s intentions,” added Narcissa, “I honestly haven’t a clue. I simply assumed that she was reaching out … one witch to another.”

“With the wives of a bunch of other Death Eaters?” queried Kingsley.

“I didn’t give it much thought,” said Narcissa plaintively. “I couldn’t give it much thought because we were trying to assist your investigation. For goodness sake, Minister, we helped your Aurors tear our house apart.”

“So I take it you were completely surprised when you heard Augusta Longbottom and Pomona Sprout were murdered last night and that the Elder Wand was stolen from Albus Dumbledore’s desecrated tomb?”

“Murdered?” gasped both Malfoys simultaneously.

Although he was no expert in such matters, Harry would have sworn to two things; Narcissa Malfoy had just heard this news for the first time, and the idea, itself, had been completely foreign to her. He began to turn the ideas over in his mind when his peripheral vision caught sight of something dropping silently to the floor. As he turned his head to the side, Harry became aware that it was Pansy, totally devoid of color, who had collapsed in the same spot in which she had listened to the entire conversation.



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