分卷阅读16（2 / 2）

“It’s important. Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Fred—they deserve to be remembered, don’t you think?” Then, as an afterthought, “so do we, for that matter.”

“Still, it seems…” Private? Special? Wrong, to talk about what they have kept close to their chest for so long? “Odd.”

“Maybe.” Ron shrugs, drains the rest of his beer. “But if it keeps my kids from being taught about goblin wars in history class, then so be it.”

Harry laughs. Somehow, maybe because it was so boring, history class and Professor Binns came out of the war unscathed, with nothing to taint those dull afternoon classes. “He’ll still make them fall asleep.”

Ron smiles, tugs on his jacket, and lays a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulders. “And so it goes.”

Draco

He’s at the Burrow.

Draco had sworn that no matter how close he got with Harry, no matter how much Hermione seemed to like him, even if he was friends with George, he would not set foot here. He did not want to picture the place where Ron had grown up, did not want to be able to feel the holes that Fred Weasley’s death had left in this house. But when Harry tells him that that’s where he’s doing the interview, and asks if Draco would like to come along, just for support, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

So now he’s here, drinking lukewarm tea from a chipped mug and listening as the story spins out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were squeezed onto the couch, Percy sitting across from them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (call us Molly and Arthur, dear, no need for formalities) were watching it all, just like he was.

There was a lot to talk about. Draco wasn’t aware that there was so much. About the first year, and starting the fight. About their second year and the Chamber of Secrets, how Hermione figured it out and Ron stole Lockheart’s memory and Harry almost died, but they destroyed the first Horcrux. About third year and wormtail, fourth year and the first time that death came to them, the start of the war. And then fifth year, about battle plans and dreams and scars on the backs of their hands that won’t go away, a night at the ministry they won’t ever forget, about veils and duels and lying brains that break your bones.

It had been eight hours already, and they were only on the sixth year.

It was draining work, but none of them showed signs of stopping. Harry was tracing the words writing across the back of his palm, and Ron’s voice was hoarse from all the talking, and Hermione had cried so much it seemed like she was out of tears, but here they were, warriors to the end.

It was Draco who broke first, leaving through the back door as quietly as he could muttering about fresh air, all because he could not take this year. This year meant cursed necklaces and poisoned mead and a boy shouting a curse in the bathroom and then blood, so much of it, about a night in the astronomy tower and a body crumpling on the castle grounds like a little rag doll. He could not take that, and because he is a coward instead of a soldier, he leaves.

But then he wishes that he had stayed inside, because now he was face to face with Molly, who was staring out at her backyard with tears slipping down her face, just the barest twitch of a smile on her lips.

He does not ask her if she is alright. He does not have the words to fix this for her, but Molly speaks anyways.

“I brought them up the best as I could. Tried to raise good children that would become even better people, even in the middle of a war I tried. And then Harry ended the war and I thought they could all be safe. I was wrong.” She breaks down crying, and then takes a few gulps of air before calming down again. “I tried to raise children but ended up with warriors instead. I never could quite figure out how that happened.”

Draco wants to tell her that she didn’t do anything wrong. that the fact that they were ready to fight showed that she did everything right, that her children were brave and good and kind, and every other thing that a mother dreams of. But she knew this already. That was not what her tears were for, but he did not have the words to fix that, so he puts a hand on her shoulder and lets her lean on him for support until her sobs were done.

And when they were ready, they went to face the story inside together.