Dance Lessons - Scorose

Never Forget the Past, Otherwise How Can You Grow?

"I'm cooking some breakfast now, hold on ten minutes, Allie!" Astoria called from the kitchen.

They ate breakfast, chatting about James' plans for decorating, which weren't exactly planned yet.

"I don't know just put some decorations up or something," he said as he took another mouthful of his breakfast.

"Oh for Pete's sake you're just as bad as Ron," Ginny sighed.

"I'll call for Granger," Draco said, standing up and moving into the study where he placed his head in the fireplace and made a call to Hermione and Ron.

Hermione appeared within twenty minutes, laden with boxes of decorations and a thousand ideas. By the time she was finished, the Manor was elegantly decked in cream and bronze, a long table stretched through the living room with artistic centrepieces and polished cutlery neatly placed on the tablecloth.

The wedding was a small affair, only the Potters, Malfoys and Michael's family were there. Rose welcomed the quiet atmosphere, usually having to deal with her extensive family. She sat in the front row of chairs underneath a gazebo that had been put up in the garden with Gwen on her lap. Albus was his brother's best man and stood to his right by the wedding arch. It was a beautiful wedding, not just because of Hermione's decorating skills but also because of the love between James and his new husband. 

It was certainly more relaxed than a Weasley wedding. There wasn't any boisterous dancing, or any arguments. It was extremely civilised. However, as the afternoon drew on, people started to loosen up and while the craziness didn't quite match the levels of the Weasleys, it definitely increased.

They all managed to squeeze around the table for a delicious meal, Harry standing up and giving a prolonged and embarrassing speech about his son, clearly relishing having an opportunity to speak at one of his kids' weddings. He only stopped when Ginny pulled at his jacket to make him sit down which was just as well because he narrowly missed the food that James had hurled at him.

"Malfoy, red wine?" Ron asked Draco, poking his head around the kitchen door once the meal was done and everyone had begun to disperse.

"In the cellar," he replied. Ron tapped the doorframe in response and made his way down the steps towards the cellar. It wasn't empty anymore, certainly not a dungeon, and was bathed in soft light from the candles placed in wall brackets. There were shelves of wine bottles spanning one side, shelves of books spanning the other. Comfy chairs were at the far end, opposite the door, and a darts board was hanging on one of the large columns in the room. 

Still, it didn't help to ease Ron's mind. He felt so helpless the last time he was down here. The time the woman he loved was being mercilessly tortured and he wasn't there to stop it. He still sometimes thought he could hear her screaming, crying out in pain, calling for him to help her. It was the worst sound he had ever heard. 

Ron shuddered, grabbing the nearest bottle of wine and making his way back up the staircase. He handed the bottle to Neville before walking into the living room and engulfing Hermione in a tight embrace. He looked up to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, eyeing it nervously.

"You okay?" she whispered into his ear.

"I love you 'Mione, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course. I love you too,"

Draco, who was sitting in a chair to their right, stood up and made his way into his study. He stayed in there for some time, until Scorpius walked in.

"Dad? You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat. He turned around to face his son. "I'm fine, son. You wouldn't understand."