Epilogue
Malaika knew they were running a little late, but there was something she had to do first and it was long overdue. She watched her younger sister Millie get ready and in her face she could see the same thing she saw everyday. She could see him.
Clutching the tickets in her pocket she steered her sister in the other direction. Millie began to protest, but apparently seeing the determination on Malaika’s face she stopped and followed with curiosity. Soon they could hear the crowds roaring and Malaika handed her sister one of the two tickets. “Did they change the time, Malaika?”
“No,” Malaika replied smiling at the man and handing him the ticket, “It’s still at the same time as every year, but we’re doing our own thing first.”
Millie smiled one of those heart-breaking smiles and whispered: “Thanks.” Malaika wondered if she would still be smiling in an hour, or however long it took to get the words out.
They found the seats relatively quickly and Millie immediately lost herself in the sport she enjoyed so much. Malaika was watching her sister’s expression and trying to maintain her calm. She did not want to look at him. That turned out to be very difficult though, because whatever else he was horrible at, he was good at this.
Soon Malaika realized that if she was going to end this at all it had better be soon. The game was about to end. The crowd roared after another spectacular save and she allowed herself to watch him running around across the grass and being pulled into hugs by teammates. “That’s your daddy, Millie.”
There were a few heart-stopping moments when neither girl looked at the other, but Malaika knew her sister had heard. She could almost see the struggle, the anger and hurt that was bubbling inside that young heart. But Millie was Malaika’s sister; she would never let it come through.
Malaika got up and made her treacherous way through the crazy fans, needing to breathe. She finally collapsed with her back to a wall in the street outside, the rhythm of the cheering mixing with the bitter song in her heart.
Suddenly a smaller hand slipped into hers. “Thank you, Malaika,” Millie whispered, “Not for brining me to see or telling me even though it hurts, but for being there when he wasn’t.”
Malaika grabbed her sister in a tight embrace and they stayed like that for a while, ruining their best clothes with tears.
…
“Ronald!” a woman’s voice filled the small house, “Get over here right now and help me with your crazy children; we’re going to be late.”
A tall red-haired man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He made his way back inside, limping on his bad leg. “I’m coming, Hermione love, I’m coming!”
…
The wind blew into the room through the open window, upsetting parchment and sending a small feather quill flying across the room. Noises of celebration could be heard from outside and the three young men in the room were hastily finishing up their work and getting ready to join the crowds. They succeeded in only one thing: making the mess even worse.
The tall, stringy man in the dark blue dress robes had just spilled some ink on the pages of an open book and was trying to siphon it off with his wand with a scowl on his face, swearing under his breath the whole time.
The plump man in the Gryffindor red and gold was trying to adjust his tie, but he seemed rather nervous and kept making a mess of the job. The calmest by far was the tall dark man whose desk was in the darkest corner of the room. He was scribbling something on a piece of paper and, having finished, he got up and waved his wand over the desktop throwing everything immediately into order.
“Let’s go, Longbottom, you’re even worse than that little Ravenclaw Coots!” he waved his wand in the other man’s direction and the tie immediately tied itself perfectly. Longbottom took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before they headed out.
“Bloody midgets!” the third man was saying as he stuffed odds and ends into a beaten trunk, “I won’t be sorry to see the last of them today. Thanks, Zabini.”
They nodded at each other simultaneously as the objects flew into the trunk, some shrinking themselves to fit in tight corners, some bending into impossible shapes and all the books stacking themselves neatly one on top of another. “Portus!” the stringy man exclaimed, pointing his wand at a picture frame that had somehow been left out of the packing and then levitating it towards the trunk. There was a quick flash and then frame and trunk disappeared.
“Free at last!”
“Take it easy, Nott,” Zabini said, a smile threatening to form at the edge of his lips, “We both know you’ll be back in a few months time…like always…”
“Well the one thing to be said for this place is that the food is always good. Let’s get going, I’m starving.”
They walked out of the room together, Longbottom hesitating for only a moment to check his reflection nervously in a cursed mirror on the Defense Professor’s desk.
…
Laughter danced across the billowing curtains and spilled out into the bright world outside, running up the hill and embracing the small group that sat in the shade of the large tree atop the hill. It was the last house on the edge of the city and it was the most beautiful. At least it looked that way to the man who was regarding it seriously from above.
“When’s mummy going to come?” the little boy with large beautiful eyes was fidgeting impatiently because he couldn’t go play with the other children and he had to stand here and listen to their tantalizing laughter.
“Patience,” a deep voice replied, “Look, there’s Millie, I’m sure she’s got some chocolate or something for you as usual.”
The boy did not need telling twice. He ran down the hill towards the three approaching figures, giving his father a few moments of peace. Millie was in the front of the group, and behind her an older woman who looked almost exactly like her was conversing with a tall man in a firefighter’s uniform.
“Mahmoud!” Millie called affectionately, with the tone of someone who still isn’t sure whether to add a respectful prefix or not. Mahmoud, who had taken his few minutes alone to kneel before a stone, apparently reading the inscription, raised his head and smiled. He adjusted the small sleeping bundle in his arms and then stood back up.
Something grabbed him from behind and he almost jumped a mile in the air, but he was being held too tightly and he had recognized the small hands that circled his chest. Mahmoud turned around and gave his wife a proper embrace causing her nurse’s hat to drop to the grass behind her.
Soon a red-head in glasses could be seen walking up the hill and the couple linked hands, leading the group away and giving the last arrival some time alone with the memories.
