Disclaimer: I disclaim... It all belongs to JK Rowling, except for my plot.
A/N: I should have explained this in the first chapter, instead of leaving it to the second, because it was of course going to cause confusion. I'm not sure if I'll end up putting it in this chapter (for I haven't started), or it will be said later, or if I say it at all, so I'll explain this right now, here. Ginny is 27, or 28. I probably should, but I can't be bothered, counting it. Magnus was two years younger than her, she came to Sweden three years ago, but she's been overseas in other countries since she graduated from Hogwarts. I hope that helps :)
When You Return
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Chapter One
-> Belated Apologies
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Ginny had never been to wake up early. She would have to had been shook at least five times before she even began to open her eyes, and usually it was so that she could bash whoever was disturbing her with her pillow. But this morning she woke up early, and though she buried her face in her quilt, and tried to resume sleeping for half an hour, she could not get back to sleep, and left her bed, dragging her bare feet across the room to the bathroom.
In Sweden, her bathroom had been, she could describe it as this now, luxurious. After having awoken to a welcoming, scented, bubble bath, big enough to spread out her whole body, the rusting shower in the corner of this bathroom was not at all pleasant to her eyes.
Maybe she had gone to sleep too early the night before. She didn't particularly like the idea of her having broken her sleeping pattern, because the more sleeping hours she got, the better. But she had become so uncomfortable talking to Colin, who spoke to her in a way which suggested she were Lord Voldemort, reincarnated.
Her red hair had grown long - halfway down her back. When she was younger she never let it grow longer than an inch below her shoulders, or rather, her mother didn't. She was very consistent with cutting all her childrens' hair when it grew a fraction too long for her liking. Which reminded her, that she needed to contact her mother as soon as was possible, for she would be most displeased if Ginny hadn't notified her of her return.
She should have sent an owl before she'd left Sweden. But she didn't own one, and there would have been no way she would use Magnus' owl, even if her mother did find it ravishingly beautiful. Thinking about how irritable Magnus' owl had been everytime she had wanted to send a letter, she leant over and turned the shower taps. Not much water came out at once, and it took at least five minutes to warm up enough for Ginny to even consider stepping inside, but after undressing, she took her shower.
---
Draco had been halfway through his breakfast when Blaise Zabini had apparated into his dining room, causing him to drop the scone he was halfway through eating on the lap of one of the three new pairs of robes he had purchased two days ago. Blaise ignored his cursing, and cut straight to his explanation of why he had dropped in so early.
'Women are impossible to keep happy!' he said, pulling out a seat next to Draco and sitting down. His robes were messily stitched at the collar, with different coloured thread, so that Draco had a hard time preventing himself from pointing it out. 'One second they're whispering I love you in your ear, and the next, they're storming out the door in a rage!'
'When they wake up and realize who they had sex with when they were drunk the night before.'
'Exac-- Listen here, Mr. I-Have-A-Wand-Up-My-Aristocratic-Arse Malfoy! Just because I'm not slipping galleons in their bras before I take them home does, in no way, mean that they are... any less... interested in me!'
'At least the wand up my arse is worth more than a galleon.' Draco said, smirking, for his friend was not, and had never been rich. You could say he was more a member of the working class, though he had always had the ambition of becoming rich and well-known.
Blaise ignored Draco's last comment, and buried his face in his hands. 'She just left. She threw my comic books against the wall and told me I was a liar.'
'Well, that's what you bloody well are.'
'Look, mate, you're not helping.' Blaise said, scowling angrily at Draco, who had finished his last scone and pushed his plate forward. Blaise covered his eyes again, and muffled, so that Draco could hardly make out what he was saying, 'She said I'd told her I was an auror, and that I had a lot of money. But I don't remember that!'
Draco didn't bother asking Blaise who 'she' was, because then he'd have to spend the next twenty minutes listening to Blaise describe the way her hair hung over her shoulders, and how her lips curved when she smiled. He didn't offer any advice, either, because he knew that the next Friday night, Blaise would be whining over a new woman.
'But I'm going to get her back!' Blaise said determinedly, clenching one fist. Now that was something Draco hadn't heard before. Usually, Blaise would give up trying to get advice of Draco, and resolve to the drawing room, where he would take some of Lucius' old firewhiskey, and spend the rest of the day muttering to himself about how his comics were ten times better than Amadeus Girtrod's.
Draco didn't know what he was supposed to say to this, so instead, he laughed, taking his wand from his pocket and levitating the Daily Prophet towards him from the other side of the room. He opened it up, so that he couldn't see Blaise, and began to read the page he had opened up on. Halfway through, he decided he was not interested in the common allergic reactions to Floo powder, and turned to the next page, which did happen to interest him.
Magnus Christensen, world-famous Quidditch player, and model for Gretel's Quidditch gear, has broken up with two year fiancee Ginevra Weasley. Magnus met the red-headed auror three years ago in Sweden, and has thereafter been described as 'lovestruck'. But it seems Magnus was more lovestruck by team mate Signe Bergman, as his affections were clearly publicised last week at Stockholm's Quidditch stadium.
But after Ms. Weasley called off their engagement and left immediately to England, it seemed Magnus has given Bergman the cold shoulder, and is much more interested in getting his ex-fiancee back. 'I don't know why he cares so much about her,' says Bergman, Seeker for the Svensk Snidgets, aged 21. 'She's got nothing going for her.'
And below was a picture of Christensen on his broomstick, flying past the stands in triumph, waving one clenched fist in the air, and holding a bunch of flowers in the other, which he handed to a red-headed woman in the top stand, before zooming back down to fly past his cheering audience.
Draco, speechless, shoved the newspaper towards Blaise, pointing toward the article.
Blaise replaced his elbow, and his inquisitive brown eyes landed on the picture. He nodded, eyeing Draco, as Christensen handed Ginny a second bunch of flowers. 'Not bad! She's a fine good-looker!'
'It's her!' Draco said irritably, poking the picture aggressively. 'That rud--'
'You know her?' Blaise asked in awe. 'You should introduce her to me sometime.'
'No, you bloody moron!' Draco said angrily, his fist clenched at the corner of the newspaper. 'It's that ruddy Weasley girl!'
Blaise pressed his nose to the paper, his brows knotted in concentration. 'It is too! Fancy that!'
'And you were suggesting being introduced to her.' Draco said disgustedly. 'A Weasley.Well I agree with this Bergman woman. She has nothing going for her - she's from a family of peasants.'
Blaise, who seemed to have taken offence by this comment, having been the son of two people who were, in fact, paupers. 'Well, if she's an auror, she won't be too bad off now.'
'True. And she's got no kids.' Draco said, though still wearing a disgusted expression upon his sharply articulated face. 'But the only thing going for her is that she can marry off her surname.'
---
Ginny had finished breakfast, sitting opposite to Colin, who had surprisingly not stuttered once, and seemed very capable of a fluent conversation. She had come to the conclusion that Colin must have been surprised to see her the previous night, and he had now gotten used to her presence.
'Where are you off today?' Ginny asked, as a pretty blonde woman took their plates.
'Back home to develop these photos.' Colin said. He had a professional air about him, like an executive businessman. Except he didn't wear black business robes, but instead wore light, dusty brown robes, which Ginny thought suited him quite nicely. 'What about yourself? I suppose you have a lot of people to catch up with.'
'Mostly family members.' she said, smiling. 'As you would understand. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to count all my family members by now, even if I knew them all.'
'Yes, well I see a few of them sometimes.' Colin said. 'Luna brings three of them into work sometimes. She works with me, in case you didn't know. She's a journalist - she writes the stories, I take the pictures.' he laughed, but Ginny was frowning.
'Luna?'
'Well she and Ron are married, now Gi--'
'Ron's married?' Ginny's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes had widened; her eyes peering up at him curiously and fearfully.
'For seven and a half years. I went to the wedding myself, actually.' Colin said thoughtfully. 'Luna tripped over her robes, and dropped the ring, and dropped her champagne glass over your brother's lap at the reception party.'
Ginny, whose guilt had overcome her too much to keep listening, stood up abruptly. The thought of Colin having been at Ron's wedding, yet not her, was tearing at her, pulling out anything possible in her memories which she had to regret. 'I'm sorry, Colin, but I need to go now.'
---
Ron was feeding his one-year-old son, Lancelot, his lunch. 'I don't know why the ruddy hell she called you Lancelot.' he muttered, giving him another spoonful of the unpleasant tasting, smelling, and looking baby food. 'When you're older - old enough to know that your name is a bloody joke, I just want you to know, mate, that I had nothing to do with naming--'
But he was stopped in mid-sentence, for someone had just apparated in the middle of the kitchen, which startled him, causing him to drop the spoon down the baby's front.
'Ron! I am so sorry I missed your wedding!' Ginny cried, throwing her arms around his neck, and then letting go, staring at him desperately. 'Congratulations on everything, and who's-- oh, Ron! He's adorable!'
'Apologies a bit overdue.' Ron said grumpily, and Ginny's insides tore, for it did not look like Ron was ready to forgive her just yet, if he ever planned on doing so. 'If you hadn't gone off and done a Percy, maybe you would have been there.'
'I'm nothing like Per--' but she stopped. Maybe she had done just what Percy had done thirteen years before. He had abandoned the family, refusing to have anything to do with them. And she had done that too. A tear slipped down her flushed cheek, and she wiped it away. 'I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to just leave. I got caught up in everything. In being a mediwitch, and in becoming an auror...'
Ron didn't say anything. She could see his bottom lip trembling, and at one stage he opened his mouth to say something, then shut it just as quickly, clumsily giving his son another spoonful of the gruesome baby food, after having wiped the spoon down the front of his robes.
'What's his name?' Ginny asked, desperate to start another conversation less dynamic.
'Lancelot.' he said stiffly, as a dribble of the green food slid down Lancelot's chin. He peered over at Ginny, who had bent down to wipe the baby's face, but had stopped and screwed up her nose. She raised one mock eyebrow.
'Lancelot?' she asked in disbelief, a teasing smile playing along her thin lips.
'I didn't name him.' he said grumpily. 'Luna did. She said she always wanted a son called... Lancelot.' He looked at the chubby boy, who had a thin layer of red hair on his head. 'I doubt Sir Lancelot had red hair. That's who she named him after.'
'How's work for you then?' Ginny asked, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, wanting to change the subject before she got her moody brother into ranting over the namesake of his son.
'Me and Parvati get all the reports from paranoid lunatics who think there are dark wizards after them.' said Ron gruffly, putting the lid back onto the jar of baby food and levitating it across the room and into the cupboard. 'When I'm not slowly explaining to them that there are no dark wizard after them, I get to sit in my office filling out forms for more lunatics stuck in Azkaban while listening to ruddy Parvati discussing what the stars are telling her.'
'Parvati's an auror?' Ginny asked, surprised, for Parvati had never seemed to her the type to become an auror.
'Oh yeah. Surprisingly, she can be quite the serious type.' Ron said. 'But that's not often. She's only serious when she's barking at me to be more considerate of my customers.'
'Which you should be!' came a stern voice from the other side of the door. Molly Weasley entered the kitchen, a wand in one hand and a broom in the other. 'Ginny! Oh my, Ginny! What are you doing here?' And before Ginny could say anything, her mother had thrown her daughter into a suffocating hug. She let go, fanning her face with her wand-hand.
'I came back home.' Ginny said simply, smiling cautiously, for she did not know whether her mother would throw her into an hour long lecture on family values or think no more about it, and ask her what she wanted for lunch.
'See Ron, I told you she would come back!' Molly said, still fanning her face rapidly, her cheeks flushed. She let out a sigh and held her arms back out, tears welling up in her eyes. 'Oh, Ginny darling, come here!'