Ginny slowly crawled out of bed, disentangling herself from Harry's arms. She dropped into the window seat, wrapping a sheet around herself tightly. Sighing, she leaned her forehead against the window, letting the tears run down her face.
The street outside was empty, everyone tucked up in bed with their loved ones this early on a Sunday. Ginny glanced back at Harry, the early morning sunlight slanting on his face, making him look like some sort of angel. Except he has the wrong hair. Ginny felt as though her head was going to explode, too many voices were yelling at her, telling her what to do.
Staring at Harry's familiar face Ginny fought back the wave of guilt that settled on her every time she saw him recently. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. And yet she couldn't help herself. She hadn't been lying to Draco when she'd said she loved Harry, and the feel of his lips on hers, whilst not quite as electric as Draco's, still made her knees go weak.
Ginny watched a couple emerge from the house opposite, smiling and laughing, their arms wrapped around each other. She loved Harry. She thought wryly of her conversation with Charlie. I've always loved Harry. She remembered her first sight of him. A scrawny little eleven year old, wearing clothes far too big for him. Her heart had leapt. He was Harry Potter. When they were little and played, she was always the beautiful princess and Ron would save her, playing the big hero. In Ginny's mind, the big hero was always Harry Potter.
And her crush had started and it had never really ended. There'd been other boys but even when she was with Draco she still retained some of the vestiges of her childhood crush, it was far too hard to escape. And after all, it wasn't like Harry Potter had ever looked at her like that.
But then Draco left and Harry had looked at her like that. And he was safe, he was her security. Ginny blanched at the idea, it sounded so unromantic. But it was true, after Draco left her heartbroken she'd needed the opposite. Someone her family loved, someone she could trust unconditionally, someone she could rely on. And wasn't Harry all those things? He was her big hero, after all. And Draco. Well, Draco was nobody's hero.
Ginny span the silver ring round and round on her finger, not noticing Harry stirring in his sleep behind her. Except that Draco, while not her big hero of childhood fairytales, had always been her hero. So much braver than Harry, because what did Harry have to lose by picking their side? Draco lost everything. His mother wouldn't speak to him, his father tried to kill him so many times she lost count and his friends cursed his name.
He hadn't lost her though. And that had resulted in a single mindedness in their relationship that Ginny had loved. That she craved. Because she never got that with Harry. He had Hermione and Ron and so many people. She was just another one of his loved ones. She was Draco's loved one. And sometimes she wished that she could just admit to herself that she loved…
"Ginny?" Harry's sleep addled voice made her shoot around, clenching her fist around the ring guiltily. "What are you doing out of bed so early?"
Ginny turned her attention back to the window. "Just thinking about heroes." Harry quizzically grinned at her and she smiled back at him, tightly. "Go back to sleep, Harry."
*
"Ouch! For God's sake Blaise, what ever possessed you to have children?" Blaise looked up from his perusal of his daughter's toy chest to see Draco hopping on one foot whilst clutching the other, a look of annoyance on his face.
Glancing down to see the Barbie lying on the floor, he yelled; "Jessica! Come and pick your doll up!"
A small, blonde girl came barrelling through the doorway, she smiled sweetly up at Draco who had stopped rubbing his foot long enough to scowl down at her. Picking up her doll Jessica suddenly threw her arms around Draco's legs before running out of the room yelling "Sorry, Uncle Draco!"
Draco looked angrily at Blaise, who was desperately trying to hold back a laugh. "Did you have to tell them that's what they could call me?"
Heaving himself up from the floor, holding what he had been looking for, Blaise just shrugged at Draco's murderous expression. "Yes. Just so I could see the expression on your face." Draco's scowl deepened. "And it was completely worth it." Tossing one of the long, plastic swords he'd retrieved from the toy chest at Draco, he herded him out of the room.
Draco stood in the hallway, twisting the sword around in a mock fight with the air. "What are we going to do with these?" He lunged into his imaginary opponent, before straightening. "While I'd imagine they'd cause a riot if you went waving them around in all their plastic pointy glory in a public library I don't see how any self-respecting auror would even possibly think that these could be elements of darkness."
"Of course not," said Blaise, hitting Draco's sword with his, to begin a play fight. Their swords clicking together, he continued. "But I figure we could transfigure them into something truly horrendous." Draco paused his sword dropping to the side, allowing Blaise to lunge in. "Hey! I win! Just like old times!" He smirked.
Draco looked aggrieved for a moment. "Firstly. 'Just like old times'? Your memory has obviously been twisted by those Muggle mobile phones. Radiation, you know. And secondly, you're going to help me with the actual carrying out of the Dastardly Plan? Because I don't want you to put that pretty wife and those little brats of yours in danger. I just needed some strategic input. And thirdly, we've both been living as Muggles for five years, you really think our transfiguration skills are up to much?"
Blaise sighed. "Firstly, Draco. I always won. You just tended to cheat. Secondly, of course I'm helping. You're likely to die and you know how much it would inconvenience me to have to go to your funeral. Oh, and could you stop referring to it as the 'dastardly plan'? I can practically see the capital letters in your head and frankly it's disturbing. And thirdly, transfiguration's fun. And I want to do it."
Draco cocked his head. "Okay, firstly…"
"Draco."
"Fine, fine. But I'm still calling it the Dastardly Plan."
"Could it at least be in lower case?"
"How about I just do little quote marks in the air?"
"That would be even more annoying."
"So I can do it?"
"No."
"We should have a little dance routine to go along with the plan. You know, so that we look jazzy as we carry out our Dastardly Deeds."
"Are you going to put capitals on everything?"
"Basically, yes. Ooh, can I transfigure your daughter's dolls into a replica can can line?"
"No, Draco."
"How about a miniature banshee for them to play with?"
"No."
"A werewolf? Go on. Please?"
*
Raising her wine glass in the air, Ginny tried to force a smile for the benefit of her family. It wasn't easy with Charlie's worried stare and Hermione's incomprehensible one locked on her.
"Here's to my youngest, and only, daughter and her wonderful fiancée. Congratulations, you two." Arthur finished his speech while the room echoed 'hear, hear.' Harry's hand felt heavy on her shoulder and having her entire family in one room was making Ginny stare longingly through the window at the garden.
"Ginny, could I have a word?" Ginny glanced up to find Hermione staring down at her, chocolate brown eyes serious.
"Sure." Ginny managed to reply around the sudden lump in her throat.
"Hermione! Not trying to steal my fiancée away now, are you?" Harry grinned, leaning forward to give his best friend a hug.
"Hardly, Harry." Hermione replied, kissing him on the cheek but keeping her eyes on Ginny. "I just want to talk to her." Ginny recognised a forced grin when she saw one, she'd gotten very good at them the last few weeks. "Girl stuff, you know."
"Girl stuff?" Harry laughed. "Steal away, then." He gestured at Ginny expecting a mock slap or at least a witty retort. But Ginny had gone deathly pale and she followed Hermione out to the garden without a word, leaving Harry to watch after her, concerned.
*
Draco checked the contents of his bag over one more time. Dagger of morbidity, Elysium charms, orb of thesulus and some really bad stuff. Happily rubbing his hands together he turned to find Blaise stood with an odd expression on his face.
Blaise was clutching his wand in front of him, his face a mask. "That supplier you remembered in Cornwall was really useful." Draco said neutrally, trying to snap Blaise out of it.
Blaise's head shot up, cool blue eyes regarding him. "Yeah, he had some good stuff."
"You don't have to come, Blaise." Blaise laughed softly and pulled a picture of his family from his wallet.
"Mind if I leave this here?" Draco nodded and Blaise perched the photo on the desk in the hotel room. "They might get into Hogwarts one day," he muttered, more to himself. Turning around Draco saw the determination in Blaise's eyes that he'd seen on so many occasions. When they were children trying to sneak past his father's man-eating spiders for fun, when they were teenagers going into a battle in which they knew they would have to kill their friends, and now, when they were men who were going to reclaim their lives.
Blaise's voice cut through his thoughts, cold in it's finality and determination. "Let's go."
*
The garden suddenly seemed a lot less welcoming then it had a minute ago when she'd been gazing hopefully out of the window at it. Ginny imagined the less welcoming nature of her childhood garden had a lot to do with the young witch stood angrily in front of her.
"What are you doing with Harry, Ginny?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips.
Ginny sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Marrying him, apparently."
Hermione squealed in protest, spinning on her heel. "Apparently! Virginia Weasley you do not marry people on apparently!"
"No, Hermione," Ginny yelled back, her voice rising, "you marry people because you love them!"
Hermione drew up short, staring at Ginny. "And do you love Harry?"
"Yes," said Ginny softly.
Hermione paused for a long moment before coming to stand next to Ginny peering over the garden. "You know Malfoy's not very nice, don't you?" said Hermione, as though they were gossiping in the school toilets.
Ginny smiled slightly. "I thought you said that you felt sorry for him?"
"Well, yes," Hermione sniffed, "but that was before I found out he was sleeping with you all over Hogwarts."
Ginny burst out laughing despite herself. "There was a little bit more to it than that, you know!"
The serious expression Hermione turned on her quelled Ginny's laughter. "Then perhaps you should tell me."
"Why?"
"Because if you don't pick Harry," Ginny's eyes widened as she realised that Hermione knew her far too well, "someone's going to have to explain to your thick-skulled brother and heartbroken fiancée what the hell is going on."
"You sure you want to do that, Hermione?"
Hermione sighed. "No. But who else? You going to tell one of your brothers?" Ginny choked on her answer at the thought, causing Hermione to smile slightly. "And I have to say that I am rather curious as to how you and the not-so-esteemable Mr. Malfoy became involved."
Ginny looked up at her and smiled, "This could take a while." The noise of quidditch match over the Wizarding Wireless Network reached their ears and Hermione grinned.
"I think we have the time."
*
Draco had forgotten the aura of dark magic that hummed through your veins, making your bones tingle and planting dark images in your mind. He'd been brought up surrounded by it, but now standing on the edge of Vincent Crabbe's property Draco was suddenly reminded of much he had had grown to loathe it.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Blaise's voice cut through the night air like a knife or, even, a dagger of morbidity.
"Yes, who would have imagined that Crabbe would have managed to drag his knuckles off the floor long enough to get married?"
"Draco."
"I know, Blaise. And I don't like it any more than you do. So let's just get in there, set off some dark magic sensors and apparate for our lives, okay?"
Blaise watched him, his face shrouded in moonlight. "All right."
Throwing the bag over the high gate, in a distinctly un-suave like way, Draco started to climb the gate thanking God that purebloods were so anti-Muggle that it never even occurred to them that someone might break in the Muggle way.
Ducking across the lawn with Blaise inches behind him, Draco suddenly felt like he was in a spy film. He could hear Blaise's sniggers and stopped in the shadow of an oak tree to pin an annoyed glare on his partner-in-crime. "What on earth is the matter with you?"
Blaise dropped his hand from his mouth, sniggering; "Zabini. Blaise Zabini."
Holding back a laugh, Draco rolled his eyes; "You do realise we could die, right?"
"But least we'll do it in style." replied Blaise, gesturing at their all black ensembles.
"Great," muttered Draco as they set off across the lawn again, "least I'll leave a pretty corpse."
It didn't take them long to reach the side door that Draco remembered from visits as a child. Blaise glanced each way before dodging from the bush he was hidden under to the small door set in the side of the house.
"How did you remember this was here anyway?" Blaise whispered at Draco, who was staring in concentration at the bricks around the side of the door.
"Crabbe used to employ someone who snuck extra sweets in to him through this door, " he replied absently, before suddenly grinning and tapping three bricks in succession, the door swinging open before him.
The house, lived in as it was, had the old, musty smell so often found common in derelict houses. Draco ran his hand along the wall, not surprised when it came away dusty. He didn't imagine that many people had wanted to do business with someone as notoriously pro-Voldermort as Crabbe. The only thing that surprised Draco was that they weren't living in a tiny shack yet.
Draco's appraisal of the cleanliness of the house was cut short by Blaise's hand upon his shoulder. Jerking around Draco saw that the study they were looking for was just in front of them.
Catching sight of himself in a mirror, Draco grinned and altered a stray piece of hair, ignoring Blaise's exasperated sigh. After ensuring he looked Dastardly enough Draco strode into the study and froze.
It was like being back in the manor. His father's study had been so similar, the same sharp lines, the strong smell of brandy with a hint of something that seemed like burning flesh. Though all the dark objects were gone, Draco still felt the hum that permeated the air. His father had hidden the dark objects in his room, though the power emanated by them often seemed so strong to Draco that he could feel it. Crabbe's father, if he remembered correctly, preferred to show off his dark heritage, leaving the objects scattered around the room like common knick-knacks.
Sucking in a deep breath and trying to rid his mind of his father's deep, disapproving voice Draco moved to the centre of the room, leaning down to help Blaise unload some of the ingredients that would set off the dark magic monitor.
Draco was so busy snickering over the cover of the Book of Maleficus that displayed a coven of witches doing naughty things that he didn't instantly notice the large figure that moved into the doorway. Blaise's quick, indrawn breath made him glance up into the eyes of Vincent Crabbe, still beady in a face that was far too large for them. Perfecting a cool mask Draco smiled insolently, "Hello, Crabbe."
The last thing Draco saw before he slipped into unconscious was Vincent Crabbe's smug grin above his outstretched wand arm.