A/N: Quick bit of trivia, the name Paul Nicolas is from a National Geographic 2005 issue I read where there was a story on the Battle of Trafalgar and the death of Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson. Something I didn't know when I read it, Paul Nicolas was a lieutenant at only sixteen (which makes me feel really lazy) in the war.
Disclaimer: Plagiarism is illegal and I have no money or powerful friends.
~*~*~*~
Subterfuge
Tall, with light blonde hair, grey eyes and a slightly muscular build, thirty-one year old Paul Nicolas moved into a fashionable Wizard neighbourhood of Wiltshire and immediately caused a stir. All that was known of him at his arrival, apart from his physical description and name, was that he was a "man of the sea", whatever that was, from Northern England and had decided to retire from it. He was apparently wealthy, and considerably so from the size of the estate he purchased, had no known employment, and most important of all, was also unmarried.
Well, at least they believed he wasn't, the rings he wore round his neck could be his parents'.
Another point of interest, though not as much as the rest, was the location of his new home. Of all the places to get into, he had been fortunate enough to find himself on the same street with Mrs Hermione Krum and Mr Draco Malfoy.
Normally, the residents of the area would never be too thrilled to find themselves in the company of a disgraced former criminal and a Muggle-born no matter how wealthy they were. They were most of them old, powerful pureblood families who liked peace and quiet and certain adherence to known-albeit unwritten-rules of society. But these days, with the almost literal buzz around those two… well, exceptions could be made. Mr Paul Nicolas then, however innocently, had brought their opportunity for gossip, if possible, to them.
However, when it came to it, the first to visit Mr Nicolas was not a member of their community, no, not at all. The first to visit him was instead a tall, pale man with greasy black hair and dark eyes, black robes, yellow teeth and a mostly unpleasant countenance. Of all the people to first visit him, it was Severus Snape who did.
"You know, when you said you weren't coming back as yourself-truly the best idea you have possibly ever had-I at least expected something smaller, maybe even less attention-grabbing, not the largest house within reach of your wife," said Snape as he stepped casually through the front door, Harry… Paul… had just opened.
The black night from which he had just emerged seemed to swallow the rest of the houses on the street at the late hour of Snape's arrival. Save for the few street lights, the distance of the other homes from the main street meant that they were almost lost to the darkness. It was chilly out too, they were passing into late autumn, already many of the surrounding trees with their leaves various shades of yellow, gold, maroon, brown and the odd green. Harry took a glance around out the door and shut it.
Following Snape back into the house then, he replied just as casually, "I haven't seen her in twelve years, and not once yet in the two days since I've gotten here, you have nothing to worry about… and I've lived in small, grimy shack by the seaside since the war, I needed a change."
Snape took a dismissive glance around the dimly-lit house and told him, "I don't worry, and especially not for you… but should I be concerned about Miss Granger and especially if nine months from today we are treated to another little Potter?"
Harry ignored it and asked, "Are you going to give me the potion and instructions now? I still have some unpacking to do."
"So quick to end our little meeting… surely I was not so horrible to you in your youth…? Never mind that, don't answer that one… I have the potion… but tell me, do I have to give a potion to Miss Granger as well…?" he asked, still holding his face its usual mask. "I was serious before when I asked about you seeing her. She's grown very beautiful, and with all those fine clothes and the life she had in Bulgaria… well, Miss Ginevra Weasley has some fine competition…"
"For your information, I do not intend on seeing my wife until she finds me… and she was always beautiful, I'd appreciate it if you stopped looking…. Can I have the rest of this potion now, please?" was Harry's reply.
Snape gave a shrug of indifference and drew from his robes a large clear glass bottle and two small vials. The large bottle was filled with a strange grey, still bubbling potion with the viscosity of mud, which Harry seriously doubted was entirely potable. He shook the potion bottle a bit, looking at the substance swirl, lumps appearing here and there, removed the cork, sniffed-the smell was as terrible as the look-and resealed it.
Harry felt rather ill.
Setting them out on the side table in the foyer he said, "This… is not the Polyjuice Potion. Due to your decision… and choices… this is a variant of it, rare, difficult to make and only used by Aurors in the most important of missions… few outside and within the Ministry know of it. You must take it every two days, one small vial at a time spaced at exactly six hours…. You, of course, have already tasted the first sample… which is why you look the way you do… nice tan."
Grimacing slightly, and definitely feeling ill, Harry took the potion and vials from him and asked, "That wasn't the Polyjuice Potion before?"
"No," replied Snape, "you're going to be more visible now, if someone should see the exact copy of themselves or someone they know…. I mixed the features a bit so you have a little of everything in there, but I warn, do not miss a dosage."
He had become so grave then that Harry had to ask, "What happens if I miss the time?"
"Don't do that," said Snape, "it will fade away, and if you've already taken one it will be incomplete, there is no telling how you would appear."
"How wonderful," said Harry "as if I don't ordinarily attract enough attention…?"
Snape had nothing to say to this, but taking a few steps off the foyer to the reception room, asked, "Have you, by chance, read any of the papers for the past two weeks?"
Harry, examining the vials and potion, replied absently, "No, what did I miss?"
Snape hesitated a moment, and then told him, almost sighing, "Miss Pansy Parkinson paid a visit to Hogwarts recently, (Harry paused and then quickly swung round to face him) apparently to quell some rumours…. Amaranthe's family refuses to claim the children… she said they would be a trouble spot if anything ever happened…. Well, they've made themselves complete nuisances now. The papers have, for whatever reason known only to them, claimed the children instead for Sirius Black or his brother… as you wanted, if I recall correctly?"
Harry was much too alarmed to speak, and Snape continued, "Miss Parkinson claimed the visit was for Draco Malfoy, I spoke to him recently and he denies this, heavily. Whatever you and Mr Weasley did to him in the war… he insists that he had nothing to do with it."
Harry regained his voice and rasped, "How did she get past the gate?"
"It was Mr Malfoy and myself who… no need to go down that road again, but she had no hand in it. That's why she could get in, she won't again of course, but she doesn't need to. Whatever she was up to she must have achieved it…." Snape told him.
Harry looked murderous.
Snape spoke up quickly, "Know this well, despite what I just told you I want you to stay away from them. If you want to keep this a secret… if you want them to 'come to you' as you said, you will let this settle itself, the papers have already forgotten… and besides, there is more."
Still murderous, Harry paced in the foyer a moment, clenching and releasing a fist, breathing heavily until finally allowing a weary sigh to escape him and asked, "What is it now? I'm not promising a thing if she's done anything else."
"This has nothing to with her," Snape said, "back to your wife… she knows."
Harry's brow furrowed, "What?"
"The night of your arrival here, Miss Granger's young son went into the study and found her little album, and decided to take a look himself. She apparently found out about the pregnancy some days before, but being the person that she is and with the 'evidence' we have, she assumed the child had died. Molly's meddling extends deeper than I thought. Nevertheless, her son stumbled upon some pictures of your wedding, Miss Granger found him, saw them and immediately went to the source. Molly confessed as much as she could, which is mostly everything, so Miss Granger now knows… a lot," Snape explained.
The first question to this, "Has she seen them yet?"
"No," he replied, "she wishes to speak to Mr Weasley first. My, how this is crumbling quickly…"
"She knows… and she's going to tell Ron…" said Harry, thinking aloud.
"Yes, and again, be prepared… once she finds you, I highly doubt you'll survive the Killing Curse twice."
Harry looked at him, and he was deadly serious.
~*~*~*~
If ever Draco had a reason to hate his friends, it was certainly now. In the middle of breakfast they arrived, as if nothing had happened, took up seats at the table of the brightly sunlit dining room, and ordered their own breakfast. While the house-elves rushed off, Blaise took up a copy of the Daily Prophet and Pansy asked, "What's the headline this morning?"
Blaise looked it over a moment and announced, "Weasley Family Slated to Appear at Anniversary Celebrations!"
She scoffed at that, Blaise continued:
"For the first time since they began, the Weasley family, well-known for their association with Harry Potter, will appear at the anniversary celebrations for the end of the Second War. There is no word on if any of them will speak, but speeches have already been confirmed from the Minister for Magic, Gilderoy Lockhart, and a rare first, Miss Carlotta Pinkstone, at the celebrations which also host a memorial for the late Chosen One. There is also still no word on whether Mr Ronald Weasley or Mrs Hermione Krum will appear."
"Hasn't she gone back to 'Granger'?" asked Pansy.
"I don't think so, her in-laws wouldn't be too pleased with that… if the rumours of a pre-nuptial agreement are to be believed," said Blaise.
"She actually signed one?" asked Pansy, barely arching her eyebrow.
"That's what they say… Viktor Krum's family weren't too keen on his Muggle-born bride from the beginning, and especially since it didn't take them long to get married… thought she was after his money. His public death in front of their son took away whatever claims they planned to make, but they must have some way of controlling her…" replied Blaise.
"Why do you think they're controlling her… or trying to?" inquired Pansy.
"He left her and their son most of his money, and with the considerable stipend she was already getting from Potter, they would want to make sure she's close… notice she hasn't really been out since her return… for that matter, since Viktor's death? I hear the boy's name is already down for the Durmstrang Institute, blood-red robes and all," he told her.
She smiled grimly, "Suits her just fine… trying to work her way into good blood, nasty little Mudblood whore!"
At this Draco spoke up, or rather, roared, "Um… have the both of you lost your minds? WHAT, IN THE BLEEDIN' HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING IN MY HOUSE?"
They turned to him as if just remembering he was there, Pansy replied simply, "Breakfast, dear."
Draco's mouth fell open in his shock.
Blaise turned to Pansy, "So, you never told me what you thought of the twins… Rhiannon says they won't speak to her; the Hufflepuff sought her out after you left and nearly hexed her. She was saved only by the Weasel happening round the corner… I must speak to them about their disciplinary problems…"
"The Gryffindor burned my robes-it was nothing, they were old, bought them the week before-but I would have appreciated a little more control as well… then Professor McGonagall puts me out after Weasel stormed in… I barely had time to speak to them. Spoiled little brats, but then, I guess they would fit right in with Draco's family," she replied.
Draco spoke again, "How do you know that? You don't know my family, your little outing was only to stir up the papers, the family line is dead… well, if you don't count me and that werewolf's wife and her mother… those little girls know nothing of me!"
"They called Phineas Nigellus Black their 'ancestor', to his portrait's face… he denied it, but…. Oh, come on, Draco, all I wanted to do was have a little fun… the rumours were just starting, Blaise had the evidence, and the papers were starting to dig… I merely helped them along with the conclusion. Honestly, I don't know or care if they're related to you or not and you shouldn't either! All the Black money Sirius had went to Potter and he gave it to the Weasels and the Mudblood… they have nothing extra to gain from this. Whoever this Monsieur Black Père is, he's the only one that should be concerned about the papers," Pansy told him.
"Why can't you two understand that I just want to be left in peace… and where do you get off calling yourself my girlfriend?" he demanded.
She gave a tinkling laugh, "Oh Draco, like I said, I was just having a little fun, the girlfriend bit was entirely the papers… we all know you've been chasing the Mudblood's skirt from the day she moved in here. You've always wanted her; you know it, since school…. But be careful there, Potter, Weasel and gods know who else got there before Viktor, she's probably the Panama Canal about now."
Draco narrowed his eyes at her, "How vulgar… is this all you do, insult rich widows and harass young children? No wonder Muggles think all witches are green, ugly and evil, you champion the cause."
She drew up away from him, "A little touchy aren't we, what do you care what Muggles think? Are you really chasing after Granger… tell me, is there any truth to the rumour that after the war, if Viktor hadn't found her first you would have?"
Blaise cut in at once, "Children, children… let's not attack each other, they're too many people out there to spend that energy on… can't we just have a quiet breakfast?"
The house-elves were finally returning with their dishes. Blaise set aside the paper and took up a napkin; Pansy took the paper from him and set up her own napkin. Draco gave an exasperated sigh.
After a prolonged silence, Pansy spoke again, "Well, well, well, who's your neighbour? He's made the society section… trumping you and Miss Granger for the first time in weeks… Mr Paul Nicolas… hmm, maybe I should pay him a visit."
"What now, is he my long-lost bastard cousin by some other relative?" asked Draco, snippily.
"No, I don't know," said Pansy, with feigned sweetness, "but he's rich and handsome, and apparently better behaved… that's good, I need a new wardrobe."
Draco scoffed, "He wouldn't want you if you danced naked in his front yard. Stick to harassing young children, Pansy… but I shouldn't blame you for being jealous of Granger; gold-digging strumpets are not your thing."
Blaise nearly choked on his toast.
~*~*~*~
Rushing about in an anxious circle, Hermione had to wonder-between ordering Caspar, for the fifth time, to clean his room and seeing to the snacks-why she was so worried about Ron coming over. This was Ron, they had been best friends since First Year, they had gone through a war together, they had seen each other at their worst… what did he care if the house was a little out of order? But then again, he was coming over to be told about the secret love-children of his two best friends for the first time.
That kind of revelation needed a neat, clean house for the angry outburst sure to follow.
She wasn't sure who had summoned Ron from Hogwarts for the meeting today. She hadn't gone back to the Burrow since that night and she wasn't planning on it any time soon. She needed to think, to sort this all out herself, before she could face them again.
She did remember who communicated to her that Ron was coming though, Ginny owled her the next morning with the news. She had to wonder why Ginny was still talking to her; she thought that she, of all people, would be the most furious.
Harry had been her boyfriend, not Hermione's, before the war. In fact, Hermione had given no indication, in all the years they knew each other, that she even mildly wanted him. Wasn't she the one that gave Ginny advice? Hadn't she spent her entire Sixth Year chasing after Ron? And then suddenly, in the middle of war she changes her mind and goes as far as to bear his children?
She guessed she should be grateful for small mercies though. At the same time that she didn't really want to see them, she needed them too.
A crash of glass, a shout of "Sorry!" and Hermione called up, "Caspar, what are you doing up there?"
There was a moment of silence and he replied, "I was looking for a box… I think I broke one of your presents!"
That was another small mercy she had to be thankful for. Despite learning a secret that would surely at least result in mild misbehaviour from most of his counterparts, Caspar had been rather good about the news. He actually referred to the twins as his "sisters", spoke of meeting them and just this morning asked which floor they would sleep on if they came here.
Of course, she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't find at least some of that suspect.
Taking a deep breath, she refrained from rolling her eyes, and walked up to the second floor. As she turned into the hall, she said, "You know, I really should ban you from this closet, you're dangerous. Every one of my presents must be broken now; I don't know what I'm going to do with you…"
She stopped when she found him trapped in the midst of a pile in the middle of the floor before the open closet door. Pieces of glass were spread through his hair, glinting like tiny diamonds, and on his clothes and around him on the floor. He shook off a few, dragged over the box from which it had come and drew out the remnant of what looked like a crystal vase.
"Sorry…" he said, looking up at her then, and put on his best cherubic grin.
She narrowed her eyes, and went on to help him, muttering to herself, "If it's not one thing, it's the other…. Caspar, Ron's going to arrive at any moment and look at you… oh goodness; you and Harry better not make this mess worse…"
He rose to help her, putting back the boxes one by one and apologised, "I'm sorry Mum. I was just looking for a box to clean my room like you said, I didn't mean to make a mess, honest!"
She paused and studied his face a while so that he paused too, only for her to take him into her arms and kiss his head.
"Eww…! Mum!" he squirmed and tried to wriggle free, but she held him fast.
A silence fell; he felt her demeanour change to something stiff, and very serious.
"Caspar, I know you're usually very messy, and very mischievous… and very cute… but… I want to ask you something…. And I want you to tell me the truth…. When you found out about the twins… your sisters… you didn't say anything… is it bothering you?" she asked.
He didn't reply until he had wriggled free of her and shook his head, "No."
"Are you sure, Caspar? Because… you see, I plan to meet them soon… and after that… I may want them to come here… with us… so if it bothers you… you should tell me now," she said, trying her best to reassure with her eyes.
Caspar remained silent a moment and then shook his head again, "Nothing's wrong, Mum… I always used to wish that I had a brother… or sisters… I'm good."
For a while she just sat there staring at him, trying to gauge his reaction, and then finally looked away when Caspar said, "Mum, Mr Weasley is coming…"
"Oh, right…!" she started, "let's put this all away and then we can go and meet him and I can…"
Her voice trailed off as she anxiously began to re-stack the boxes in the closet, muttering to herself all the while. Caspar could hear snippets, here and there, half were about one day opening the boxes and packages, the other about Ron and the twins.
He couldn't tell her then that he had actually been opening the packages secretly for weeks now, placing the gifts about the house within her view but without her noticing. No, she was more concerned about the latter, so instead he told her, "It's going to be alright Mum, he doesn't have to like them but he's not going to live with them, we are. And if he upsets you, I'll just put him out!"
She halted her progress and looked at him, and then she laughed, "Oh Caspar… you don't have to take everything your father and I told you so literally you know…. Now come on, help me put away these boxes before he…."
She had turned back to the boxes, putting them back one by one and stopped again when she remembered that this could be done magically. What was it that Ron had yelled to her in the Devil's Snare in First Year? "Are you a witch or what?" or something like that?
With a sigh, she drew her wand… and then her gaze fell upon one at the top of the pile left. Caspar, who had been packing all the while, picked it up before she could get to it and walked into the closet. She stopped him at once.
"Caspar, come back here a minute… what's that you got there?"
He paused, "What's the matter?"
"Can I see that box?" she asked.
He shrugged, "It's your gift, but if you keep ignoring them I'm going to take them all for me."
She didn't reply as he handed it to her, she was too busy staring at the address on the plain brown package:
"To: Hermione Granger-Krum
Northbridge Manor,
Wiltshire, England"
"From: Amaranthe Montgomery,
Courtenay House,
Nice, France"
"Mum…?" asked Caspar, his expression changing from amusement to concern.
Still Hermione didn't hear him.
Almost completely forgetting his presence and the mess in the hall, she rose and headed down to the living room with the package in her arms. Caspar followed, watching quietly as she tore open the package on her way down, and then nearly tripped over the pouf in the living room causing the contents of the box to spill out unto the floor. She dropped to her knees before them and gasped.
Behind her, Caspar's eyes widened as he registered what he must be looking at.
From the box, now spread out at their feet, were photographs, hundreds of magical photographs where the people in them moved and sometimes seemed to have a life of their own. There were albums too, apparently filled to capacity, a scrapbook, a mini suitcase, shrunk to fit into the box and three letters.
Hermione tipped the box and dropped out the rest.
There were drawings, apparently made by young children from the somewhat incomprehensible, multicoloured swirls that covered them, curiously shaped arts and craft, two pairs of tiny shoes, a very ragged teddy bear and a banner that she started from as if burnt. It had come from the Quidditch World Cup qualifying rounds and the game that had widowed her. It was the colours of Bulgaria and someone had written across the top in white, much like Malfoy in Fourth Year, one word, "Viktorious".
"Vatch this… you too Caspar… this game vill be quick…"
Caspar ignored it and her, deliberately turning his attention to a photograph that had fallen atop his shoe. He turned it over; she let the box escape her grasp to look over his shoulder at it.
There were two little girls. Both had thick black hair, both had familiar shaped brown eyes, both had smiles on and both were in their pyjamas. They were sitting in the garden, late on a sunny morning, and apparently in the city for in the background above the black corrugated iron fence and trees and shrub they could spy a few buildings. Someone was giving them directions on their pose, but they were laughing, ignoring them, and every few moments would whisper to each other with distinctly conspiratorial looks on their faces.
They needed no introduction; they could only be two: Maia and Aimee Black.
"Mum…" said Caspar.
Hermione reached into a pile of other loose photos nearby and drew out another. The same little girls were sitting in the stands of very familiar stadium, the banner above their heads and the letters "V" and "K" painted on their cheeks. They were waving it casually, the match had yet to begin and Hermione had to put her fist into her mouth to stifle her scream.
They had been seated merely feet from her-the section was familiar too-and she hadn't noticed. She hadn't known.
"In the absence of their father, we just thought, it would be less painful if you never saw them, if you never had to live with the knowledge that Harry wasn't there to raise them too…"
Caspar took one of the albums and opened them. The first page had a large photograph of the same girls, they could be no one else, but as new born babies. Tiny, pink, wrapped in blankets and in the arms of their father….
Hermione at once slammed the book shut and pushed it away from Caspar.
"Oh gods…"
And then suddenly the flames of the fireplace turned brilliant emerald green and billowed out towards them. Before they had time to move or even realise what was going on three figures stepped from the fire: Ron Weasley, his pregnant wife Luna, and their son, Harry.
The trio dusted themselves off, the pair on the floor never moved and it was a time before anyone noticed.
Luna tugged on Ron's arm; he looked down at them with a smile that faded away when he noticed the pictures on the floor.
The first words to escape anyone after a prolonged silence came from Ron, "I thought they were barking… the whole lot of them… it couldn't be… but it's true…."
Hermione drew up unto her haunches and closed her eyes, Caspar stood beside her.
Didn't she tell them that she would do it first? Didn't she tell them that she wanted to be the one to tell him?
Ron came closer, looking down at the photos spread around them and picked up the book Hermione had just pushed away from Caspar.
Even her breathing stopped.
Ron opened the book and froze too. A moment later, she heard him turning the pages, Luna stepped over with Harry, he and Caspar just looked at their parents and each other. The silence in the room was so absolute Hermione could hear her heart's pound in her chest echoing like the tick of the nearby clock.
And still she would not open her eyes.
And then, someone knelt down and gently held her shoulders. Hermione dared to peek and looked up to see Ron staring at her.
His expression was calm.
"Ron…" she began.
His expression remained calm, but deep in his eyes she could see a silent war. If he was angry he suppressed it, if he was disappointed he kept it to himself, but in his eyes she saw it and everything else. And then he told her, "When do you want to see them?"
Her eyes widened, she gasped, "You… y-you…"
He didn't let her finish, "Hermione… I don't know what happened… and I don't care…. Ginny sent an owl after you left… Hermione, I see those two girls every day and they're… they… I've never noticed it until… when do you want to see them?"
She looked down around them at the photos and books and said, "I have to explain this to you… I need to… y-you have to understand that… that we never meant to hurt you… I don't remember what happened, but I swear it…"
"Since when do you swear?" he asked, cutting her off.
"Please Ron," she pleaded, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Don't make this a joke, this is serious. Please understand that we never wanted to hurt you, we should have told you… you should have known…. I… I am so sorry Ron…"
"Hermione…" he said, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to look up at him, "Hermione, just tell me when you want to see them, you can do it today if you want… or Saturday, they have no classes then, I'm sure Professor McGonagall would like to see you…"
"Ron…" she continued to plead, eyes filling with tears, fists crumpling his robes.
"Hermione… I… I don't want to hear it, it happened, it's over… just tell me when you want to see them and I'll make it happen…. Just don't ask me, don't try to explain… I don't… need to know anything. Harry… those two little girls… they think they have no one now… they have a whole family they haven't met yet…. do you want the school to send them to the Dursleys if this ever gets out?" he asked.
Tears spilled down her face, she shook her head.
"Good… then Saturday. You'll see them on Saturday, and whenever you want to tell them… tell them the truth, and who you are… I'll stand with you…" he told her. She looked surprised, and slightly relieved, but there was still fear. The relief and surprise fell away.
Thinking he was losing her, he continued, "We're a family, Hermione, the three of us were a family and every family has secrets… and should be able to depend on each other… and forgive…. I don't need to know what happened with you and Harry, eventually you would have told me… like always…."
"But Ron… this is… we did something…" she began to protest.
"LISTEN TO ME!" he roared at her, "I-don't-want-to-know… for eleven years I've lived with the thought that he's gone for good… he's not…. He lives… in them… he came back to us… he never left us… in them… so please Hermione, don't tell me and on Saturday we'll bring them home."
She gave two sobs, and threw her arms around him, "I love you… I am so sorry… I love you so much… and I'm so sorry!"
He held her for a while, patting her hair, until Harry asked, "Is this visit over then?"
Everyone turned to look at him, Hermione smiled, Ron shook his head.
~*~*~*~
The ball went sailing over the wall, bounced a few times on the pavement, rolled across the road and came to a stop at his feet. Paul bent over and picked it up… just as the two little boys who had been playing with it, one red-haired, and the other dark, came bounding out behind. With brooms, towels tied round their necks and throwing about a tiny plastic ball they looked as if they had been playing Quidditch. He could barely remember the last time he had.
They paused when they saw him, he asked, "This is yours…?"
The dark-haired boy spoke up at once, "Yes sir, it's mine, can we have it back?"
He held it out for him and the two quickly came over for it. The red-head took it, said a quick "Thanks" and made to go away, the dark-haired boy remained.
"I'm Caspar, I've never seen you around here before, are you the new man who moved into the house down there?" he asked, pointing to the correct gate.
Paul smiled at him, "Yes-Caspar-I am. Paul Nicolas, nice to meet you… wait… Caspar Krum is it? I heard that you and your mother lived here…"
Harry standing across the street called, "Hey Caspar, let's go back in…!"
Caspar ignored him, "Yes… my Mum was going to bring you a Welcome Basket but she's been busy… so welcome."
Paul smiled at him, "Thanks… I feel welcome… don't feel too bad about this but I've already received a number of baskets from our neighbours… I don't think I need any more."
Caspar grinned, "You haven't tasted one of Mum's cakes… or Mrs Weasley's…"
Before Paul could reply to this, a woman's voice called from the gate from which the boys had just emerged, "Caspar… who are you talking to?"
He dare not look up then. He couldn't, he wouldn't… but the boy turned and immediately introduced him.
"Mr Nicolas, Mum, the man who just moved in here…"
"Who?" asked another voice, a man's, and he just had to.
Eleven years… he had not properly seen them in eleven whole years… and there they were, standing just across the street looking curiously at him. He would have ducked away were it not for the fact that they did not know him… or rather Paul. He would have run for it were it not broad daylight and they would think him crazy. Eleven long years… his choice… and all he could do now, was stand where he was and say, "Paul Nicolas… new neighbour, nice to meet you… um… well, I'm sorry, I only recognise Mrs Krum… you are?"
Another woman, with long, dirty blonde hair, wide, dreamy silvery-blue eyes and heavily pregnant, appeared behind them and fixed him a stare that made him decidedly uncomfortable. Luna, it was Luna Lovegood-Weasley.
The man introduced himself, "I'm Ron Weasley… you must be the first person I've met since school who doesn't know me…. This is my wife, Luna… our son, Harry… that's Caspar. You're Hermione's neighbour…? (His expression visibly darkened.) Haven't been chatting with Malfoy have you?"
That was Ron speaking to him, and he didn't recognise him. And not only that, but he had… he had named his son 'Harry'…. He had never had asthma, or panic attacks for as long as he could remember but there was always a first time for everything and he felt he was going hyperventilate now. He wrestled with himself to stay calm.
Paul arched an eyebrow, "Draco Malfoy… that's the former Death Eater isn't it… no, haven't met him. Don't think I want to either…. I've actually been at sea a while… went to school in South Africa… a world away from here…. Um, was just walking here when this ball came over… nice boys you have… this one here was just welcoming me to the neighbourhood. Me, Paul Nicolas being welcomed by the son of the best Seeker in the world, Viktor Krum… quite a welcome this is…"
Caspar smiled, and pointing back to Hermione said, "Someone has to teach her manners, you would think she didn't have parents…. Or that she saved the Wizard world…"
Paul turned to stare at her and Ron again, his jaw dropped, "Y-you're… Hermione Granger… and Ron Weasley… Harry Potter's friends… you people… you're heroes…! I may have been away from it all but not too much that I… I can't believe I didn't recognise you, it's an honour…."
He marched across the road to them and quickly and firmly shook both their hands. It was with considerable reluctance that he released Hermione's.
"I don't believe it… wow…!" he said.
Hermione smiled at him, and Ron looked a little embarrassed, Luna on the side of them kept staring at him, and now with what could only be suspicion.
"We're not that great, you know… just, really ordinary people who got very lucky…" Ron said, modestly.
"I don't believe that either," Paul told him with a grin. "This is just, wow!"
Hermione laughed a little and said, "Ron… could never pull off modesty…"
There was a moment of awkward silence, they seemed to have run out of things to say, and Paul began, "Well… um, I'll be going now… have a lot to do today… it was nice meeting you… bye… bye Caspar…"
He barely waited for them to say goodbye before he was off, walking determinedly back to his own gate. But he had a moment of terror when Caspar, who had come over with him when he went to greet them, turned to his friend and said, "Come on Harry, I was in the lead…"
He almost stopped and turned at the sound of his name.
When he was there though, he paused as he opened the gate and dared a glance back to them. He couldn't take it, forget what Snape said, he had to see them… and his heart seized.
The boys and Ron and Hermione had gone, but Luna was still standing there looking at him. He was very sure that she couldn't recognise him, that she didn't know him… but the way she was looking at him.
He quickly vanished from her gaze.
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