When You Return
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Chapter Three
-> Success and Money
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Ginny yawned, rubbing her palms together for warmth, as she sat in front of the living room fire in the Burrow, her knees bent. She wore a bright orange sweater several sizes too big for her. Across the front read Chudley Canons. It clashed horribly with her hair, and she promised herself never to go along to a Quidditch game with Ron if this is what he was going to wear.
Ron's three older sons, Harry, Jake and Matthew, sat at the foot of the sofa, each of them in their pajamas, watching their mother perform a story, using the living room floor as a stage. After introducing the characters as the heir to the throne, Harry, the brave knight Sir Jake, and the subject of every girl's love interest, Matthew, she had moved onto the storyline, with Ron grunting smarmy comments, Arthur chuckling at Matthew's facial expressions, and Molly balancing Lancelot on her knee.
'But the royal Weasley family was cursed!'
'Yeah, the red-haired, freckled curse which forbids you to have daughters.' Ron grunted, frowning.
'Ronald, be quiet, you're ruining the story!'
And so on went Luna, waving her arms around frantically as she acted out their story. Though the three older boys remained interested throughout, by the time it was finished, Ron was slumped back in his chair snoring, Lancelot was fast asleep, dribbling down the front of Molly's robes, and Arthur was fiddling with one of his plugs, Molly scowling at him through the corners of her inquisitive brown eyes.
'Off to bed now, you three.' Luna said, whisking them away with her hand. They ran off upstairs, Jake threatening to kill them all with his meter-long jeweled sword. She slapped Ron's hand, and snapped fussily, 'You, wake up!' He muffled something submissively and sat up, his eyelids sagging as he stared ahead at the fire.
'Ronald, you'll need to take Harry to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy him some Quidditch robes, as you promised him.' Luna said, opening her eyes wide and glaring at him, as if she weren't too happy with the promise he had made to his son.
'I have work tomorrow.' Ron said through a yawn he had failed to stifle.
'You'll have to take an hour off work then. I can't take him!'
'Don't have time.'
'Ronald!' Luna cried impetuously. Arthur left the room, humming, and Ginny heard his footsteps increase in speed when he was out of sight.
'Luna, I can take him.' Ginny offered. Luna rounded on her, still glaring, making Ginny flinch. Then she smiled, her eyes flickering back to their normal dazed selves. 'I don't have anything to do here anyway. Work hasn't started yet, and--'
'That would be lovely of you, Ginny. Thank you so much.' Luna said, turning her head to face Ron and passing him another glare. 'I'm sure Harry would love the opportunity to get to know his aunt better.'
---
Draco sat at the head of the dining table, two pieces of toast and an egg in front of him, opening one envelope after the next. Each one he threw aside in a disgruntled fashion, then ripped open the next one. To the left were the letters he seemed to not want to deal with at the moment, and to the right was a neat pile of letters addressed to his mother.
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
On the 20th of December, there will be a formal dinner held to celebrate the beginning of this year's Quidditch World Cup - the first in fourteen years. Until now, it has been argued about the safety in the World Cup being resumed, and after ten year's debate, it is felt that it it safe to continue in this tradition.
As you are a leading sponsor of the Quidditch World Cup, you are most welcome to attend, bringing along with you whoever you would like (limit of 2 guests in addition to yourself). Dinner will begin at seven in the evening, but you are most welcome to arrive at any time past five.
He read on, his eyes scanning the page. If it was for all those on the second floor, that would mean that Ron Weasley would be there, accompanied his strange, insane wife. But on the other hand, his mother had always said that a formal event cannot be held without a Malfoy present, he would just have to attend.
'Draco, are these for me?' Narcissa asked, taking her pile of letters with one slender hand, with long manicured fingernails polished a deathly red. She tore one letter open and sat down, reading each letter speedily from the date in the top left corner, to see if it had reached her within a suitable period of time, and to every title the sender had listed below his or her name.
Draco peered over his invitation at the letter his mother had just put down. In the top right corner was a picture of a blonde with, her arms spanned wide, dripping with jewelry. Underneath it read Rich Witch - for witches who love their riches. He grunted, rolling his eyes, which made Narcissa peer up at him questioningly.
'I am going out to lunch with Ms. Goyle, Draco, and Gregory should be there.' she said, after receiving no explanation for his dismissive grunt. Draco caught the drift that it was an invitation to go along as well, but stood up and looked down at Narcissa.
'Unlike Gregory, I have grown out of being taken out for lunch by my mother. I doubt I will find as much entertainment from arranging paper umbrellas into shapes of unicorns at the age of twenty-nine as I did when I was eight.' Draco said, smirking. Narcissa eyes stung him with an icy glare. 'I would not be able to go anyway, because I have a much more delightful day planned with Ms. Parkinson.'
Narcissa Malfoy did not catch the sarcasm in her son's voice.
---
Of course Harry Weasley's knocking on Ginny's bedroom door did not wake her up, for she was the deepest sleeper in the family. The seven year old, red headed boy, continued knocking for five minutes, too shy to go anywhere near her, as if scared she might eat him if he went too close. It must have taken a lot of courage for the boy to walk towards the bed and tap her on the shoulder.
But that still did not work.
It wasn't until Molly had come past with a laundry basket and seen her grandson poking Ginny with his father's wand that Ginny was woken up. 'Harry, give that back to your father! What's he doing leaving it around where you can find it anyway? No, don't wave it! Oh, dear, just give it to me and I'll give it to him!'
And it wasn't until Ginny had spent forty-five minutes in the shower, Harry once again being sent up to get her, and unsuccessfully being heard over the running water and her singing from the other side of the door, that Ginny came downstairs, still humming the tune to Polyjuice Persona by the Weird Sisters.
'I'm going to work now, Ginny. Harry, you behave yourself.' Luna said, grabbing her bag from the kitchen table hurriedly. She stopped beside Ginny on her way to the fireplace and whispered in her ear, 'Get the cheapest robes. They're so expensive these days, and he'll just grow out of them.' She handed Ginny a key - engraved on it the number 382.
'She's failed her apparition test six times.' Ron said teasingly when his wife had left. 'The last time she ended up somewhere in Africa, in the middle of some tribal ceremony. She says she doesn't want to try again.'
Ginny laughed. Ron rolled down Lancelot's second Chudley Cannons sock, stood up, and clapped his hands together. 'Well, I'll be going now, in a more stylish manner than my wife.' He looked around the kitchen one last time, and then disapparated into thin air, Lancelot giggling and clapping his hands to imitate the sound.
'Matthew, please stop chewing on Grandad's quills! Oh dear, look at you! Your mouth is green now!' Molly dragged Matthew through to the kitchen. He was holding his mouth open, and his lips and tongue were green. She grabbed a towel and began wiping his face, as the four year old stared at Ginny through the corner of his eyes.
'Luna found a Muggle day care.' Molly said, putting the tea towel back on its hook by the sink and letting Matthew run off again in search of his brothers. 'She sent them all there for a few days. Of course when Ron found out it was a Muggle day care, he hit the roof. Silly, really. Now I'm left with them all day. I don't know when I'm going to get the chance to relax like old ladies are supposed to.'
Ginny laughed. Though wrinkles had formed on her mother's face, she still had red hair, though she could see roots of grey creeping in from her forehead. She was still plump, and had a rosy complexion to her round and friendly face. But Ginny knew that, unlike Arthur, whose hair was still as red as it had always been, Molly was fighting the effects of aging, for Ginny had seen the four spell books on her mother's dresser table the night before when she was looking for towels for the next morning.
'Arthur was heartbroken when he retired.' Molly continued, cleaning up Lancelot's face with a wave of her wand, now that she had found it on the top shelf of the kitchen, where she had obviously put it so that the boys couldn't find it, and forgotten that she'd placed it there. 'I think he's getting used to it now anyway. He tells little Arthur all about Muggle whats-its, and he's absolutely fascinated by it all.'
'Arthur's your nephew, by the way. He's ten now.' Molly notified Ginny, catching the clueless expression on her daughter's face. But Ginny sensed a cold chill in her voice at that reminder. Katie had been pregnant before she had left for medi-witch schooling in Italy, so Arthur must have been George's son.
'That reminds me.' Molly said, leaning back against the counter. 'We're having a Christmas party. Every Weasley is coming along, so that means you as well. I haven't sent out all the invitations yet, so you can write them out tomorrow, and you can take them to the post office.' she said this all rather triumphantly, as if this was what Ginny had to do to be forgiven by her. Ginny, was rather grateful that her task wasn't worse.
'I'll do that for you, Mum. Now, I'm going to get Harry -- is he named after Harry Potter, Mum? -- and I'll leave.' Ginny said, standing up and reflexively brushing her hands over her lap. Molly told her that Harry was in fact named after Harry Potter, and as she said this, Ginny saw her mother eye her Henrietta robes with a mock frown - Henrietta being an extremely expensive wizarding clothing brand. Ginny left the kitchen, calling out 'Harry!' as she went.
Harry came downstairs rather shyly. He was tall, like his father, his hair bright red, like his father's, with a thick coat of freckles over his face, just like his father had. In fact, the only thing that resembled Luna in any way was his silvery eyes, shaped like two full moons, except that he did not look as permanently surprised as Luna. He was wearing dark brown robes, so dark that from a distance they would look simply black, and his hair clashed so horribly that he looked like an obsessed fan turned up to a Chudley Cannons Quidditch game. She rethought this, and decided that Harry probably was an obsessive fan of the Chudley Cannons, just like his father.
'Will you promise not to tell Ron--Dad...' she corrected. 'And Mum if we take the quick way to Diagon Alley?' she whispered. He shook his head, staring up at her, which made her take back her previous thought about his eyes not giving him a permanently surprised expression, and she took his arm and disapparated.
They appeared in the centre of Diagon Alley, just outside Gringott's, among a bustling amount of people. She glanced at Harry, who was grinning widely in ecstasy, his mouth gaped open. And then she raised her head, so that she was looking into two grey eyes.
'Surely a worker of the International Federation of Magic would not be illegally apparating with a minor citizen.' came the familiar drawling voice of someone she had definitely not managed to forget about during the past ten years. 'You would be in a lot of trouble if I told someone about that.'
Draco Malfoy stood next to Pansy Parkinson. She supposed they were now engaged, and she thought it was a rather good match, for it would save just two more people from being married to such unpleasant people as those standing in front of her. Just like Molly had, Draco eyed Ginny's robes, however his eyebrows - darker than his silvery blonde hair, seemed to be so raised that Ginny thought they might disappear.
Pansy Parkinson was wearing mauve robes, frilled at the sleeves and hem, and a ghastly mauve pointed hat. Along with that she was wearing a look of distaste at the mere sight of Ginny, her chin held high so that if Ginny had wanted to look at her, she would get a perfect view up her nostrils. Already, at this time of the morning, Parkinson was holding countless amounts of shopping bags, Draco having refused to carry any of them, for his hands were completely free.
'Good morning, Malfoy.' Ginny sniffed, gripping onto Harry's shoulder and taking a step to the side. 'Unfortunately, I am in a hurry, and I can't stop to talk.' She pushed Harry in front of her and was just about to walk right past and into Gringott's when he said something which Ginny could not refuse to answer.
'I heard lover-boy gave you the flick goodbye.' he said smugly. 'Is that why you came running back here?'
'As I saw it, lover-boy gave me a reason to give him the 'flick goodbye'.' she said edgily, cursing herself for getting into yet another argument, which everybody knew was her weakness. 'At least I've done something in my life, unlike you, who's been sitting in your office for the past four years without a case!'
She saw Malfoy's eyes gleam with annoyance, for he hadn't had a case to work on for exactly the last four years, because with Harry Potter around, wizards and witches were too scared to do anything wrong, and if one did, Ron Weasley and Patil were put on the case.
'I suppose you can't stand the fact that Weasleys are actually succeeding. I have to say I rather sympathize for you. You must open the Daily Prophet and wince at the sight of Weasley Wizard Wheezes advertisements, walk into work and sulk because my brother gets all the cases, enter Gringott's and puke over the side of your cart, not because you're going too fast, but because Bill Weasley's name is written in a huge gold plaque on the wall of the entrance hall, and run into me at Diagon Alley to see me wearing Henrietta robes!' She stopped there, her mind racing, not because of what she had just said, but because she had almost mentioned every one of her brother's, except for Charlie. And Charlie was dead.
She gave Malfoy one more piercing glare, turned back around and took her nephew's hand, and stormed into Gringott's, not looking at the huge golden plaque complimenting Bill for his service to Gringott's internationally. 'Vault 382 and 491.' Ginny said, shoving both keys towards the goblin sitting before her - one Luna's and the other her own.
'Would you like to upgrade your vault, Miss Weasley? You have enough money inside to upgrade to a high-security vault.' She shook her head, and he got out of his seat and led them both through the huge doors leading down into the depths of the wizards bank.
Harry vomited over the front of his robes when they stopped in front of Luna's vault. The goblin opened it, standing as far away from Harry as possible, and Ginny took Harry inside, hoping that Luna and Ron didn't mind their son seeing their family fortune, which, Ginny thought, was quite large, taking up two whole corners of the vault. Not knowing how much she was supposed to take, she filled one of the maroon velvet bags in her pocket to the top and planned to give Luna back the change.
'Vault 491.' The goblin, Gricht, said as they left the cart, and Ginny waited for him to open it, Harry standing at her heel. Gricht stood back, and Ginny stepped in. Her eyebrows traveled north, and she placed one hand over her mouth, for the vault was so full of coins that she had to tiptoe through as to not let the piles tumble over. 'High-security vaults are twice as large, Miss Weasley.'
She quickly gathered up enough galleons to fill three velvet bags. 'Where did this money come from?' Ginny asked, and Gricht walked to the side of the wall and began tapping it with his fingers, until a small steel flap opened and he pulled out the end of some parchment.
'Yesterday came seventy-five percent of your income, from Gerrod Kipling of the International Federation of Magic -- twenty-five percent went out to Sweden. At least fifty percent of income must come to your home country, when you are living overseas, Miss Weasley.'
She nodded, and dragged Harry out, cursing herself for thinking that the twenty-five percent of her income was her whole income, and meanwhile thinking about retiring early, before she had too much money to fit in her vault. She told Gricht to upgrade her vault before leaving, and then left Gringott's, a green-faced Harry following behind her.
'Mamma! I want to go to Weasley Wizard Wheezes!' a scrawny boy whined. His crooked-nose mother was gripping his wrist tightly, and had to pull him quite forcefully into Madam Malkin's. 'You need new robes before you go back to school, Gary!' she snapped.
'Arthur's popular at school because Uncle George owns Weasley Wizard Wheezes.' Harry said, for he too had watched the boy. 'Auntie Katie thinks that he's too young to go to Hogwarts, but Uncle George wanted to send him early.'
'I'm sure you'll be popular at Hogwarts too.' Ginny said, as they entered the Quidditch supplies shop. He looked unsure of this. 'Because you're dad helped Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who.'
He grinned and hurried over to the children's section of the store, where two models of children's broomsticks were attached tightly to the walls, held to the wall by steel clasps. 'Dad got me a proper broom!' he said. 'He told Mum that the kid's brooms were stupid, and he says I'll grow into my broom, so that I'll be a famous Quidditch player like Uncle Harry.' This made Ginny smile.
A huge poster of a man on his broom was attached to the wall, the man somersaulting simultaneously so that the word 'Isolt' could be seen on the end of it. Harry pointed up at it. 'Was that your boyfriend?' he asked, and Ginny looked up at it herself. She glared at it, as if expecting the poster to glare back. 'Dad told me you were going to marry Magnus Christensen. My friend Jeff says he's met him. I don't believe him.'
'He was my boyfriend, but he was in love with someone else.' Ginny said, smiling.
'Like Angelina.'
Ginny was about to ask what Angelina he meant. Angelia Johnson had been going out with Fred before Ginny left for Italy, but maybe Harry meant someone else, and she wasn't so sure that he was the best person to ask.
Harry's eyes had now landed on some Quidditch robes in the corner on display, and was gazing at them, his eyes lit up. 'But it's too expensive.' he said, as Ginny came up behind him. 'Mum would never buy them for me. Look, they're thirty-four galleons. That's mighty expensive.'
Ginny glanced at the cash register, and back at Harry, then, seeing as she was still nervous about having so much money, which she had never had before, she took the robes made for eight-year-olds, because he was tall, and went to purchase them. 'A present from your Aunt Ginny.' she said, watching his face light up. 'To make up for the past seven years I haven't bought you birthday presents.' He took the bag, with his new navy and silver Quidditch robes, and left the store in a very good mood.
---
'These ones, darling!' Pansy said, pushing a small scrawny boy off his stool, who was waiting to be measured, as she walked past. 'Aren't they absolutely divine?'
Draco definitely did not find them absolutely divine, in fact, he found them absolutely ghastly. Pansy took the white robes off its hook and held it in front of her. Surprisingly, they bore no frills, but instead, around the neck line, the hem, and the sleeves, were different coloured material flowers. She pulled out the label, and said, 'See, they're by Henrietta! That Weasley girl was wearing Henrietta robes! I don't know how she managed to afford them!'
'She earns more than me.' Draco said grumpily, for although he did not know exactly how much Weasley earned, he did know that an auror working for the IFM (International Federation of Magic) earned more than an auror working for the Ministry of Magic in Britain.
Pansy opened her eyes wide and questioningly, then blinked and smiled, fluttering her eyelashes, which were heavily coated with blue mascara. 'But you don't need to earn much, darling, because you were born into enough money to last you a hundred more generations!' That was true, but it was not good for a Malfoy's ego to know that a Weasley -- a Weasley woman to add to that, was earning more than him.
'Did you see her hair?' Pansy said disgustedly, browsing through the wedding robes once again to make sure the floral effort was still her favourite. 'A horrible colour! And it was a ragged mess; looked like it hadn't been brushed for days!' Draco, in fact, had not noticed that. He had been too occupied in thinking of an insult for the boy next to her, but it had been hard, for he had been wearing perfectly complimentary robes.
'Could I buy a pair of robes for that Quidditch World Cup dinner?' Pansy asked, to Draco's horror, keeping the horrible white robes and making her way towards the evening dress robes. Draco translated this - he would be buying Pansy evening dress robes.
She pulled out a stringy red dress, gazing at it lovingly. 'Darling, this is divine! Wouldn't it suit me?' He didn't answer her, but looked away. He thought it would more suit someone with a more petite figure, like Weasley. It would go with her hair too. He shook this thought out of his head.
'What's wrong, sweetie?' Pansy asked in her sing-song girlish voice. 'If it's that Weasley girl, don't worry, because you're in a much more powerful position than her, and you have much better connections.'
He handed over a pouch of galleons from his pocket, and went to wait by the door.
'Hello, Mr. Malfoy! I'm Gary Stutters, and I saw you in the newspaper two weeks ago!' the scrawny boy said, holding out his hand and grinning. His mother was talking to Madam Malkin, and he had obviously finished being fitted for his Hogwarts robes for his second semester. 'When I grow up, I want to be just like you!' Maybe Pansy was right, Draco thought. 'And I want to own a joke shop like Mr. Fred and Mr. George Weasley!'
He took this back, shook the boy's hand gruffly, and left the store in a very bad mood.
---
Colin Creevey took his next batch of photographs from the large basin of potion. Each one soaked up the glutinous pink potion as he took them out, the people inside coughing - most of them Dedalus Diggle. After seconds of choking, they began to act as normal. Colin smiled. The next one was Ginny, coming down for breakfast. He had taken it before she had seen him, and now that he had taken it out, she was leaning on the staircase pillars, smiling and laughing, then twirling around, so that the hem of her robes flew inches above the ground.
'Are you nearly finished?' Luna called from her desk. She was taking large bites of her turkey sandwich, a glass of pumpkin juice in front of her, which had been clumsily charmed so that it refilled whenever she put it down, so that now it stood in a puddle of orange juice. 'I've finished the Quidditch World Cup story, so tomorrow we'll have both these articles in the Prophet.'
'It's a strange time to be holding the Quidditch World Cup.' Colin said, taking the full pile of Leaky Cauldron photographs to Luna's desk cubicle, which was covered in pictures of her and Ron, and her four sons. 'They had to lengthen school holidays for it.'
'Yes, but they're summer break gets shortened.' Luna said, laughing. 'We've got one of the top boxes. Ronald's already bought the tickets. But they're not the best seats, because we face the corner of the stadium. I suppose they're better than most people's seats.'
'Well, I suppose boss'll be asking me to take the pictures for the Prophet.' Colin said, sitting down in his own seat. His desk was opposite to Luna's, but not so decorated. Instead, certificates were pinned up, awarding him for winning photography competitions.
'Suppose you'll be taking Padma.' Luna said, taking a gulp of pumpkin juice.
'No, actually. We ended everything. There was just, nothing there.'
She snorted, which was rather rude and inconsiderate. But that had never stopped Luna, and she had never been much of a romantic.
'I think I'm in love with someone else.' Colin said, ignoring Luna.
'Oh? Who's that?'
'Ginny Weasley.'
---
'And we apparated into the middle of Diagon Alley!' Harry said loudly, clapping his hands. Ginny looked down at the ground, pretending to scratch the side of her face. Molly glared at her sternly, and Ginny shook her head, and said quietly that Harry was just making up stories. 'And he was standing next to this ugly woman! She looked like this--' he pushed his nose up with one finger. '--like a pig, see?'
It was at that second that Ron apparated into the room, which caused Lancelot to clap his hands again in imitation, giggling and squirming in Molly's arms. Ron strode up and took Lancelot in his arms, and Harry ran up to him excitedly. 'Look, Dad! Dad!' he ran back to the table and pulled out the robes Ginny had bought him, then ran back. 'Auntie Ginny got them for me! Look, look, they're by Gretel Quidditch Supplies!'
Ron's mouth dropped open, and he looked over at Ginny in awe. 'Gin, you didn't have to get him those! They would have cost a fortune!'
'Thirty-four galleons, Dad!'
Ginny blushed, and Ron took the robes into his arms, running his hands over the material in awe. 'Thirty-four galleons? Ginny! Where did you get the money to buy these?'
'I... kind of didn't know I had it.' Ginny said. 'Oh, and here's your money, because I didn't use it.'
'Ah, Gin, you take it.' Ron said, pushing the bag back into her hands.
'No, Ron, it's alright. I don't need it.'
'Take it, Ron. It's the least she can feel she can do.' Arthur said, as he sorted through his mail. 'Here, Ginny, this is for you.'
Ginny stood up and took it, wondering who in the world would be mailing her, because not many people knew she was here yet. She tore the envelope open, and unfolded the letter.
Gin,
I'm sorry. You don't know how much I regret everything I did, and you don't know how much I would do just to have you back.
Ginny, think about it, because you'll never meet another man who loves you more than me.
Come home.
- Magnus
'Who's it from, Ginny?' Ron asked. He had now sat down, Lancelot on his knees.
'Just a newsletter editor asking me if I want to keep my subscription.' She said, after having taken quite a while to answer. She scrunched the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire, and watched as it became nothing more than a pile of ash.