Blackberry Jam (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Thirty Seven

   Draco immediately took one for himself, and held it patiently whilst Mrs Figg lifted one herself. She seemed so much frailer than when they had first come to Surrey, but her spirit was undefeatable. "Today's a celebration boys," she croaked, wrinkled forehead becoming even more lined as she raised her eyebrows in affirmation. "It hasn't been the best of times, and right now, Harry, it's probably the worst of times."

Harry bit his tongue to stop him dissolving into tears like a baby. He must be strong, he had always promised himself he would be strong, ever since he had first left London.

"But right now, here," Mrs Figg continued, waving her tart at what felt like the whole town gathered around them. "This is good. This is what it felt like last time, when we knew, we knew, that the worst of the horrors were over."

She watched the two of them, so they both nodded obediently.

"Things will be better now," Harry said hollowly, repeating what he'd been telling himself all day, purely because that's what other people had been telling him all day too.

Mrs Figg took his hand with the one that wasn't holding one of her homemade pastries. "They will," she said, shaking it for emphasis. "They will Harry lad."

He nodded, and for want of a distraction, sunk his teeth into the tart. The sugar made him dizzy, but he chewed and swallowed with gusto. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

He didn't know how to say thank you for five years of care. It wasn't just a roof over their heads, or food on their plates, clothes on their backs. It was the kind of love and understanding that would make any mother proud. It was the fact that only now, when faced with the prospect of going 'home', he realised he was already there.

Mrs Figg seemed to know what he was thinking though, and gave his shoulders a quick squeeze of solidarity. "Isn't anything to be thanking me for," she said matter-of-factly. "But I appreciate the thought."

They ate their tarts in contemplative silence. Harry felt a little ill from his one, not having eaten properly in the past several days, but to his mind finishing it became the best way he could show his true gratitude towards his guardian, so he made sure to devour every last bite.

"So, what's the plan?" Mrs Figg asked after a time. They had been watching some impromptu Morris dancing going on, and it took Harry a moment to realise she'd spoken.

"The plan?" he repeated.

"For going back to London," she elaborated. Harry felt a sinking sensation in his belly, but Draco spoke before he could articulate any of his dread.

"Mother wrote to me," he said, brushing crumbs from his hands. "She wants me to head back as soon as I'm ready."

"I didn't know that," Harry said, feeling a little hurt, but Draco's eyes softened.

"It didn't seem right to bring it up unannounced," he said.

Harry nodded, but his awkwardness just increased. "I, um," he said, tripping over his words. "I've not heard from my father." I don't even know if he's still alive, he added to himself. "And my aunt hasn't written anything since..." He cleared his throat, unwilling to mention the telegram. "So I don't know...I mean..." He wanted to ask if he could just stay, if he could try and ignore the whole blasted business, but he knew in his heart he had imposed on Mrs Figg long enough. "I'm not sure what there is for me to go back to," he finished honestly though. He didn't even know if his house was still standing.

Draco looked confused, which Harry found rather puzzling. He was cleverer than Harry, he was always two steps ahead, surely he must have guessed this would be his predicament? "But," he said, blinking a couple of times. "You'll come home with me to start with, until we can work out the logistics?"

It was Harry's turn to blink against the warm spring sunlight. "I will?" he asked, bewildered.

"Of course," Draco spluttered. "Did you honestly think I was going to trot off and leave you behind?"

Harry didn't know what to say, his throat felt too tight, so he just managed a twitch of a smile and a jerk of his head. But then he remembered Mrs Figg next to him, and felt guilty. "We don't have to go right away," he blurted out.

She sighed and shook her head. "Boys," she said fondly. "This isn't about me, this is about you going back to your homes, carrying on with your lives. Don't you be worrying about hurting the feelings of an old bird like me."

That got a soft chuckle from Draco and even a small smile from Harry. "I don't want to seem ungrateful though?" he said tentatively. As much as he wanted to stay, his heart also ached to go back to London and to get answers to the many desperate questions he had. What exactly had happened to his mother? Had there been a funeral yet, was she buried somewhere he could visit? He cringed inwardly at that thought, because truthfully he didn't know if there had been any of her body recovered to bury.

And what of his father? Had he returned? Was he alive? Even if he faced more bad news, he knew he had to find the answers.

"Me neither," Draco said, but Mrs Figg shook her head again.

"It's right," she insisted. "It's time. Let's try and enjoy ourselves a bit today, then tomorrow we can start getting you packed."