The Muggle Who Lived ☆ h.p au

six

**These last chapters require knowledge of events from the DH book before this time point. This story will either mention past events or even skip over them completely. Please note that all the events from the DH book have happened here, some are just not written down. Again, please have at least some knowledge of the events from DH before reading. Thank you***

Hog's Head Inn. December 14, 1997

"This should be enough for the time being."

Draco hopped out of Ariana's portrait, a box full of potions in his hands. "It's insane how much enhancement potions they request." He sighed, giving the box to Zoë. With a light smile, she took it in her hands and went downstairs, placing the box in the storage cabinet to give to the Death Eaters the next time they came to the pub. When Zoë walked back upstairs, Draco was seated on the couch near the fireplace, his face slightly orange from the color of the flames. Zoë sat next to him and looked at him, admiring the warm fire on that cold night.

"So, did they do anything this time?" Zoë nodded, lifting her shirt slightly to reveal a large deep wound one of the Death Eaters did when they got "bored." Draco winced. He took out his wand and mumbled a few incantations, healing the wound to the best of his ability. "There. Should be better."

"Thank you, Draco," Zoë said with a smile, sighing and placing her head on Draco's shoulder, taking in his warmth.

"I'm glad you're my boyfriend."

Draco snorted at Zoë's comment, looking down at her. "Boyfriend? Since when did we make that official?" A deep red blush spread to Zoë's cheeks. "Oh. I...I just assumed that...well..."

With a giggle, Draco lifted Zoë's face and placed his lips on hers. Instantly both moved in sync, taking in every detail of each other's lips.

"Does this make us official then?" Zoë asked in between the kiss. Draco kissed longer before answering "I would say yes." Both laughed, looking into each other's eyes.

Draco went into another kiss, this time deeper and more passionate. A few seconds later Zoë was pinned to the couch, Draco on top of her, one hand on her cheek and another on her waist. Zoë ran her hands through his white hair, seeming to make Draco kiss Zoë harder.

Suddenly Zoë felt something hard on her back. In discomfort, she broke the kiss, leaving a frowning Draco as she lifted her back slightly, retrieving a small journal from the crack of the couch. Zoë sat up straight, examing the journal. "How have I never seen this before...who's could it be though?"

"Hey. Funny idea. You should try opening it." After receiving a slap to the arm by Zoë, Draco looked as she opened the journal. Zoë let out a loud gasp.

"It's my father's."

"Aberforth?" Zoë nodded as she skimmed the pages, seeing many recipes as well as sections about his fascination for goats. While doing so, something fell out one of the pages. Draco picked the item up.

"Is this you?" Zoë looked at what he had in his hand. A picture.

Aberforth sported long dark red robes, smiling down at a 10-year-old Zoë, who wore a sky blue dress. Holding hands, both looked at the camera and smiled, waving. Right behind them was the view of the small cottage they lived in, the surroundings looking like summer.

Zoë held the picture close to her, smiling from what she saw. She looked back at Draco, who had a smile on his face from seeing Zoë.

"You better be going Draco. I know you're the 'master of sneaking through the halls at night without being caught' but you never know." With a laugh, Draco stood up and pecked Zoë's lips before leaping into the tunnel of the portrait, waving goodbye before closing the portrait behind him.

Zoë looked back down at the journal, once again looking through the pages. She stopped at one, one that looked different from the others. The handwriting looked messier and sloppy as if it was written in a rush, or if someone was...angry.

August 1899

He has no remorse for what he has done.

Or so it seems. I believe he does not, for the way he looked at me, there was no sense of apology. Albus appeared at Ariana's funeral with a straight face.

"I'm sorry" He dared to say, but it was bland.

So I dared to give him a piece of my anger and sadness to him.

Albus walked away with his nose bloody and broken, my fist getting some of the blood. He had the nerve to leave my sister's funeral with that no good Grindelwald by his side as if his contribution to Ariana's death was all well and forgiven.

It's not certain which spell was the one that killed Ariana, but I won't take my chances in guessing. To me, both are guilty.

I swear that if Albus reappears to me again with the same face he presented at Ariana's funeral,

He won't leave with just a broken nose.

Zoë looked at the page in shock. Zoë ran her fingers hrough her hair as she read the page over and over again, not wanting to believe what she was just seeing. She couldn't believe that her uncle had ever killed anyone, especially his own sister, but she also knew her father would never lie.

Zoë couldn't seem to stop reading it, and the more she then the more things came through her mind.

The way that he kept her in the dark.

The way he told everything to Harry.

It seemed like Dumbledore kept more secrets than Zoë thought, and she didn't know how many more secrets he had kept from her.

Frustrated, she threw the journal aside, placing her hands on her head. Zoë sat there confused, not knowing what to think anymore. She thought back to the way Aberforth reacted to Albus being there that fateful night, wanting him away from her and himself. Aberforth was trying to push away Albus that night,

and it seemed like the reason for that hatred was Ariana's murder, committed by the person she trusted.