Sweet Bondage by MercyAller1977

Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/11/2005
Last Updated: 24/10/2006
Status: In Progress

Life after Hogwarts was uncertain for Ginny Weasley. Then a chance encounter with Draco Malfoy
changed her life in ways she never imagined.




1. Secrets
----------



**Chapter 1: Secrets**

The eagle owl soared through the open window of the Burrow, landing majestically on the only
bare spot of the heavily laden dining table, currently occupied by the 7 Weasleys. With great
presentation, the bird extended the foot with the scroll attached to it, resuming its steady and
unblinking position as soon as the head of the family, Arthur Weasley, had taken the proffered
scroll.

“Blimey, that bird's creepy,” Ron Weasley breathed in awe as he stared at the perfectly
still bird.

Arthur skimmed the message on the scroll and sighed. “It's another one, Molly,” he said,
removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in a decidedly weary manner.

“Whose it from this time, dad?” Charlie asked, as he flipped a page of the *Daily
Prophet.*

Arthur looked at his wife meaningfully before handing her the parchment and answering his
son.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

His simple reply brought forth the expected reaction: five redheads started choking in earnest.
Fred and George turned on each other and punched each other in between the shoulder blades, then
promptly fell off their seats at the same time. Molly calmly patted Percy's back as Charlie was
the first to gain back his composure. Ron, however, turned even brighter than his hair, if that
were possible. But it wasn't because he was still choking.

“Lucius Malfoy!” he all but shrieked. The twins, despite their similar feeling of horror at the
idea, snickered at hearing Ron. “How dare he offer for Ginny!” he sputtered. “That - that -
reprobate! What does he plan to do with his wife? Stuff her in a closet somewhere?”

“Ron, you twat! He's not offering for himself.” Charlie looked gravely at his father.
“It's for his son, isn't it, Dad?”

Arthur sighed. “Quite so.”

Ron turned even redder. “Well, then, tell him no! Tell him there's no way we're
considering them.”

“Ron, be quiet,” Molly admonished, but she also looked gravely worried.

“You can't possibly think of considering them!” Ron sputtered again. “They're death
eaters!”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! What have I told you about keeping your opinions to yourself! The war is
over and all has been revealed. There's no call for your prejudice.” Molly fairly shrieked.

“But - but Mum - ” Ron began.

“No,” Molly interrupted with a glare. “I don't want to hear anymore from you, young man,
until you learn to act like your age and not like a child with a tantrum.”

Arthur Weasley looked from his irate wife to his furious youngest son then sighed again. This
was getting ridiculous.

“Of course I wasn't considering his proposal, or any of the others as well. I want Ginny to
make her own choice; it's her life. I don't want to dictate what she does with it.” He
stood up from the table. “It's best if she doesn't hear about this from any of you.” He
leveled each of his sons a fierce look. “Not one word. Am I making myself clear?” At the nods he
received, Arthur straightened. “Well, now that that's settled,” he turned the parchment from
Lucius Malfoy over and wrote a short reply at the back before tying it back around the owl's
leg. “I'm going to the office.” He dropped a kiss on his wife's cheek and with one last
look around, disapparated.

“So,” Molly broke the silence that reigned around the kitchen at Arthur Weasley's and the
owl's departure. “Who wants some pancakes?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At that moment, the girl that was on everyone's minds was packing away the last of her
things. In a few hours, she would be leaving her Head Girl's rooms and board the Hogwarts
Express for the last time. It was funny how time seems to run away with you when you want it to
slow down. Her seven years at Hogwarts was over, seven years full of highs and lows, of laughter,
sadness, humiliations and heartaches. It seemed only yesterday when she was a bright-eyed girl of
eleven, preparing to board the train that would take her to Hogwarts for the first time. Now, now
she was a 17-year-old woman, ready to face the world.

And Ginevra Moira Weasley was a woman. To her brother's everlasting dismay, she had
blossomed into every wizard's dream witch. From a mousy girl, Ginny had reached her full height
of 5'10” only in her seventh year. Along with the growth spurt, she had also gained the curves
that all her brothers wish for their women, but not for their only sister. In other words, Ginny
Weasley had grown into one of the most beautiful witch in Britain, possibly even the whole of
Europe, and they were not happy about it.

Ginny took one last sweeping look around her rooms. As she did so, her eyes fell on the frame by
her nightstand. The wizard in the photo had an air of aloofness around him, as though saying `look,
but don't come any closer'. She picked up the frame and lovingly touched the photo, her
fingers meeting cold glass. Much like the person behind the glass, cold as ice. The wizard gave her
a haughty look before pointedly ignoring her.

Ginny sighed. “The story of my life,” she said out loud, knowing there was nobody there to hear
her.

Ginny didn't know when it happened, or why, but when she was in her sixth year, she found
herself falling in love with the unlikeliest of all people. She herself had hated him prior to that
year, finding his high-handedness and feelings of superiority boorish. She had even hexed him her
fourth year, and as the twins can attest, her bat-bogey hex was not an experience they'd
particularly enjoyed nor wanted to experience again.

Then she saw him with Pansy Parkinson on the Hogwarts Express going to Hogwarts for her sixth
year and she felt the first stirrings of jealousy. She didn't know what it was she was feeling
at first, mistaking it for disgust as she beheld their writhing forms, Pansy with her thighs and
legs around Draco's waist and Draco calmly thrusting into Pansy. She might be an innocent, but
she was no ignorant to the goings on around her. Being around six older brothers was enough
guarantee that she knew more about the birds and the bees than even the birds and the bees
themselves. She had lit out of there, laughter trailing after her. She had thought then that she
couldn't hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already does, but that little scene convinced her
she could. How wrong she was.

She couldn't seem to get him out of her head. She kept seeing him as he pounded into Pansy.
She would occasionally imagine it was herself in Pansy's place before she'd turn green at
the picture she'd conjured in her mind and resolutely refused to look at him the entire day, a
fact that was near impossible to do considering he was her potions partner in her Advanced Potions
class. It was torture being near him and feeling her skin crawl with revulsion. Or so she thought.
She had finally accepted that her feelings for him were not hatred at all, and then she got royally
pissed off. Her brother, Ron, couldn't understand why she had such a short fuse with them, but
short of telling him the reason behind it (she had no wish to die a virgin, thank you very much),
there was nothing she could do but vent her frustration. Even Draco felt her bad mood.

Ginny took one last loving look at the photo before putting it away at the bottom of her trunk.
Her feelings for Draco Malfoy was even more impossible than the ones she used to harbor for Harry
Potter. At least with Harry, her family would have no objections. They had practically adopted the
boy the moment they saw him. No, there was no basis for comparison at all. Her family would
probably lock her away and throw away the key if she so much as suggest she might fancy ferret-boy.
They'd ask questions later, much, much later. It was better if they never found out about her
feelings for the `enemy'.

Gathering her bags together, she levitated them outside for her journey home.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ginny stared at the passing scenery, deep in her thoughts. She was loathed to admit it, but she
wasn't sure what it was she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She had graduated at the
top of her class, but after the experience of war, that wasn't something that she put
particular stock in. She had no wish to be an auror, having had enough of fighting off dark
wizards; she didn't have a knack for journalism, having had a horrific history involving an
enchanted diary and near death experience. She didn't have enough business acumen to start a
business of her own, not the least of which her lack of monetary funds to back a business. She was
exceptional in charms and potions, but she had no wish to be a curse breaker, or a potions
professor should a position be open for her. She might consider being a healer, but then again, she
didn't have much motivation towards the profession.

Ginny sighed and leaned her head back against the cushioned backrest. Life was so much simpler
as a student. She closed her eyes and her hand automatically took hold of the locket hanging by a
silver chain around her neck. It was given to her by Harry when she had turned 17. Silver in color,
it was heart-shaped and charmed so that only Ginny can open it. Unbeknownst to her family, she had
replicated the picture by her nightstand, shrank it to fit the locket, then added her own charms to
ensure that only her touch can open it. She never took the locket off, needing it around her
constantly to help her relax and concentrate. She even took it with her in the shower. It had
become a source of comfort for her. She had received quite a lot of ribbing from her friends about
her attachment to the jewelry, mistakenly assuming that she took such great care of it because she
still held a torch for Harry. She had ceased trying to correct them. None of them would understand
anyway.

Now she took great comfort as she stroked the smooth surface of the jewelry. There was only one
career she wanted to have if she were to be truthful to herself: she wanted to be the wife of one
Draco Malfoy. But since that was comparable to reaching for the moon, she would have to settle for
something else.

She opened her eyes as the compartment door opened. Colin Creevey grinned at her before flopping
opposite her seat. Colin had been her bestest friend ever since her second year. He was the only
one who stood by her after her horrific first year. She had other friends too, but none she trusted
more than Colin.

“Do you ever get the feeling that this is somehow surreal? I mean, we're out of school.
How'd that happen?” Colin absently picked at a lint on his oxford shirt.

Ginny smiled at her friend's meticulousness. Colin had shocked the Gryffindor House their
fifth year when he came out of the proverbial closet. Ginny had sensed he was gay back in second
year and confirmed her suspicions by their third year; why it came as such a shock to their house
was beyond her. Surely they had noticed how fixated he had been with Harry from the beginning; he
was even more obsessed with Harry than she had been her first three years in Hogwartss. No guy, no
matter how fanatic, could possibly be straight after that. She didn't mind his sexual
preference though; she appreciated his candidness more after he came out and they had had many a
night spent talking about boys and their assets. They had exhausted the topic so much her mother
would be horrified if she knew how well-versed she was with the male anatomy and its functions.
Having Colin as gay best friend was the best thing that ever happened to her.

“I know what you mean,” she answered. “I was just thinking that I don't have anything mapped
out as yet. How about you? What d'you plan to do once you settled in?”

Colin brightened and straightened in his seat. “I just have the perfect job lined up. You know I
love photography. Anyway, I called in a few favors and guess what? I got an interview lined up at
Witch Weekly!”

Colin and Ginny started bouncing in their seats and shrieking like little girls.

“That's great, Colin! That's your dream job, and you're almost there.” She grinned
excitedly at her friend. “I'm so jealous of you. I don't even have one job interview lined
up.”

“Oh, please! With your brains, you could get into any university you want just like that!” He
snapped his finger for emphasis. Then he grinned mischievously. “And if that doesn't work, you
could always model. You could give Tamara Flynn a run for her money, you know.”

Ginny blushed. Tamara Flynn had been ajudged the most beautiful witch in the wizarding world. To
be compared to her was flattering and embarrassing. “Shut up, Colin, that's not true.” She
looked away from Colin's laughing eyes.

“It so is true!” He shifted from his seat so that he sat cross legged in front of her. “I
hadn't planned on telling you since I don't know how you'll react, but - ” he trailed
off at the alarmed look that flashed across Ginny's face.

“What - what did you do, Colin?”

Colin started mumbling about stills, nudes, and black and whites.

“What? What did you say?” asked Ginny, confused.

Again, Colin mumbled about portfolios and whatnots. That was when Ginny understood and paled in
horror. Shaking her head in denial, she searched his face for the dreaded truth.

“Tell me you didn't, Colin, tell me you didn't do what I think you did.”

Colin looked at her sheepishly. “I - didn't?” Then looked away guiltily.

Ginny shrieked. For a full minute. The compartment reverberated with her horror, seeming to
magnify her voice a thousand times over. Colin visibly shrunked in size. He knew he was in for it.
Just then, the compartment opened again as several heads peeked in to see what the commotion was
all about. Ginny stopped shrieking only long enough to order everybody out, not caring if she were
being rude. There was hell to pay and Colin was going to pay it. Big time.

Slamming the compartment door shut behind her, she then locked it and cast a silencing charm so
powerful, it made Colin nervous. When she began advancing on him, he knew he was in for it.

“You - you - ”

“Now, Gin,” Colin placated nervously. “You know I'd never knowingly abuse your trust. I love
you.” The murderous glint in Ginny's eyes didn't abate. Colin gulped. “Look. You know that
picture I took of you was the best one I had. I just had to show it as part of my portfolio. I just
had to.”

“Had to!? Had to! You didn't have to do anything!” Ginny shrieked; Colin cringed. “How could
you, Colin, that picture was supposed to be only between you and me. How could you show it to
another human being! I was naked in that picture for crying out loud.”

Colin backed up against the window of their compartment as Ginny again started advancing on him.
“I know, but it wasn't a lewd picture, Gin, it was art at its finest.” He flattened against the
wall as Ginny pressed on him angrily. “And I was right; they loved it, Gin,” he said hurriedly.
“It's why I got the interview with the owner of the magazine in the first place, because of
that picture. The editor-in-chief was bowled over by it. Wanted to know who my model was. I
didn't tell him,” he added hastily, as Ginny sucked in a breath, ready to start yelling
again.

Ginny then seemed to deflate like an out of water puffer fish. She dropped down beside the seat
previously occupied by the cowering Colin. She was so tired.

Colin hesitatingly sat down beside her. “Gin? I'm sorry for being such a presumptuous git,
but I really thought I could nail the job down with your photo.” He took both her hands in his own.
“I knew they'd see that photo and think like I do.”

“Like what?” she asked quietly, eyes tightly closed.

“Like a goddess has come down on earth. You were beautiful, Gin - no, you *are* beautiful,”
he amended fiercely, squeezing her hands almost painfully. “Mr. Johnson all but offered me the job
right then and there, he was so taken with you.”

“It was just a picture, Colin,” she said quietly. “Just a picture.”

“That's bull and you know it. A picture's just a tool to represent the real thing.” He
let go of her hands and grabbed her face in earnest. “You are the real thing. You are beauty,
grace, and elegance. You're it, baby,” he finished, smiling at her tenderly.

Ginny snorted. “Grace? Elegance? I'm about as graceful as an elephant with a tusk up her
ass. Elegant? Have you forgotten I'm a Weasley, Colin? We don't do elegance.”

Colin laughed. “Honey, I wasn't talking about your family name, I was talking about you.
You. You are so convinced that you're so undesirable that you believe others think so too. Hon,
if I were to use my hands to count the number of guys who've wanted you, I'd have more arms
than a Buddhist fertility symbol. And that's a fact.”

Ginny unconsciously grabbed hold of her locket. “If I was so wonderful, then how come - ” She
trailed off, hanging her head in shame.

“How come Harry hasn't fallen for you?” Colin finished. “Because you don't want him to,
Hon. He's like your seventh brother, and I don't think incest appeals all that much to
you.”

Ginny remained quiet, still stroking her locket. Colin cleared his throat and tipped her head up
to meet his eyes. “Or were you wondering how come Draco has never once shown you any interest?”

Ginny paled in shocked surprise. “How - what - ”

“I'm your best friend, Ginny,” Colin stated quietly, firmly. “I know you like I know
myself.” He pried loose the locket from her hand. “I may have never seen what's in here, but I
don't have to to know. I've known from the moment your feelings changed. When you started
to think of him as more than a target to practice for your hexes.” He let go of the locket and
crossed his arms in front of him. “Why you've never told me will always be a mystery to me
since I've told you all my secrets.”

“I wasn't sure - at first, and when I was certain, I refused to acknowledge it. It's
just so hopeless.” Ginny slumped further on her seat.

“It's only impossible because you chose to fall in love with a stupid git who doesn't
know what's good for him even if it came up to him and bit his balls off,” Colin declared
spitefully, his voice becoming so disdainful that Ginny had to stifle a laugh that burst from her
lips. Trust Colin to call it as he sees it.

“Thanks for the visual, Colin, trust you to go right away for the jugular.”

“I meant it, Gin. That guy's so full of hot air it's a wonder he hasn't floated away
by now. So he's a gorgeous example of the male species, so what? He is so concerned about that
whole blood traitor thing I swear he's off his rocker sometimes. But that's just my
opinion, of course.”

Ginny laughed, she couldn't help it. Even if she tried to defend Draco's behavior, which
she was unlikely to do, she knew Colin was right. All of it.

“Oh, Colin, you do know how to lighten up a dreary day.”

Colin gave her a wink. “That's what I'm here for, baby, and I'm here to stay. Get
used to it.”

And they spent the remainder of the trip in light banter, carefully skirting the issue of the
photo, Draco, and what the future had in store for them.

-->



2. Persuasions
--------------



**Chapter 2: Persuasions**

Ginny opened her eyes and resisted the urge to close it again. She was still not used to waking
up without seeing her canopied bed at the Gryffindor's Head Girl's room. She couldn't
believe it'd been two months since she had graduated from Hogwarts, two months since she took
that last train ride taking her away from all that was familiar and comforting. Soon, come
September, which was only a few days away, she would be starting her healer training. Yay?

When she got off the Hogwart's Express at King's Cross station, her family was waiting
to welcome her; it was quite a turn-out too. Even Harry and Hermione were there, holding hands and
clearly in love. Ron, Ron was there to see Luna. How that pairing came about was still a mystery to
Ginny to this day. Between Luna's preoccupation with Crumple Horned Snorkacks and butterbeer
caps, and Ron's calling her a certifiable head case, Cupid has proved once again its possession
of a warped sense of humor.

Despite the noise her family had made that day, Ginny couldn't help but feel that they were
keeping something from her; they were so guarded and intense, and seemed to want to rally around
her like battle guards. She had not completely believed their denial when she pointed out their
weird behavior but she was too wrapped up in her own personal concerns to push the issue. Whatever
it was they were anxious about would have to take a backseat to her own worries.

So now here she was, two months later, about to start a new life involving a profitable career,
and she was about as enthusiastic with the prospect as she would be watching a flobberworm mate.
She wasn't quite sure where this apathy originated and she didn't know how to get out of
it. She only hoped it would not linger for too long and affect her training drastically.

Ginny started her morning toilette and finished it hurriedly. It was getting late; she had
promised Colin she'd meet with him at the Leaky Cauldron at 10 for a `meeting' and it was
already 9. She hated being late no matter how Colin told her it was all right.

The two months after graduation had been quite an experience for Ginny. After her initial
reticence, Colin had finally convinced her to continue posing for him, and to her surprise, she
enjoyed herself immensely. She trusted Colin implicitly, despite what she had found out at the
Hogwarts Express. Well, there's also the fact that Colin never took a shot of her face that he
hadn't expressly asked permission for. He was content with various poses that threw into
prominence anything that he was currently being commissioned to shoot; some of the time he just
took pictures of her as a lark. He seemed to be quite fascinated with everything else about her
body and not just her face. `Course, that might have something to do with the threat of death via
extremely, excruciatingly painful means if he messed up and prints something clearly identifiable.
And that was nothing compared to what her six brothers and Harry Potter would do to him should they
find out he had seen their sister in all her glory. The prospect was enough to give any man,
straight or gay, pause.

Colin had come to her two days after saying goodbye at King's Cross to tell her he had
gotten the job at Witch Weekly. Then he had begged her to model for him. On his knees. In the
Burrow's kitchen. It took a lot of convincing on her part to keep her brothers from trouncing
Colin. They had completely misinterpreted the whole on-his-knees-begging thing and were itching to
wring his neck. Even her declaration that Colin was gay didn't dissuade them; her vaunted
Weasley temper did, however, and a good thing too. They knew only too well how formidable she could
be once she got worked up. Her brother's overblown reaction was what actually egged her on to
say yes to Colin, something that she hasn't regretted doing. Colin would always show her the
pictures he'd chosen before handing them in to the magazine, another roundabout way of asking
permission on his part. To her knowledge, the only pictures that ever made it on print with her
face on it were the ones Colin used for his Muggle commissions. She had readily said yes to him
when he asked to use some of the muggle pictures he took of her, figuring that since there was no
way she would ever venture into the Muggle world for any length of time anyway, it couldn't
hurt one bit. Anything to help out a friend was the way she saw it.

She never expected that she'd be earning so well for her modeling too. She had been
pleasantly surprised when Colin handed her her fees and insisted she take it; according to him, it
was actually pretty low for the usual going rate for models, but since she had only started, Witch
Weekly figured they'd discuss about salary increase later on. Her eyes had nearly bugged out
when she saw the galleons in the bag. That was nothing compared to her reaction when Colin gave her
her `professional fee' for those Muggle magazines. Who knew Muggles had that kind of money to
throw around? According to Colin, many advertisers had chosen her to endorse their products,
whatever that meant, and were not hesitant in paying. In short order, she had more money than she
knew what to do with, and she couldn't even tell her family. All of her earnings were sitting
in her new Gringotts vault Colin had opened for her, slowly earning interest as it was barely
touched, and her account in the bank of London was nothing to scoff at as well. She really
didn't need to work on another career, but since her modeling was a well guarded secret, she
had to have an acceptable, reputable job for her parents to approve of. Thus, the healer program at
St. Mungo's.

Ginny took one last look in her mirror, grabbed her emerald jumper and donned it quickly before
heading to the kitchens for some breakfast. Most of her brothers had already left, leaving only her
mother puttering around in the kitchen.

“Morning, Mum,” she greeted her mother airily, then dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Morning, Ginny. Sit. You're up late today,” Molly Weasley responded as she scooped out eggs
on her only daughter's plate, then added bacon and toast. “Eat. You're too thin as it
is.”

“Yes, Mum.” Molly was forever complaining about Ginny's slim frame. No matter how much she
fed her, she couldn't seem to gain a single pound. And it got worse when she had had her growth
spurt. She had despaired of ever having her daughter look healthy, a.k.a. plump.

Ginny hurried through her meal. She loved her mother's cooking and any other time would have
loved to linger, but since she was cutting it close with her meeting with Colin, there was no time
for her to relish the simple but delicious meal. Swiping the last of the eggs in her plate, she
washed it down with the glass of orange juice her mother always keep on hand for her. She knew she
preferred it over pumpkin juice.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Molly asked as she watched her daughter gather up her dishes and
dump them in the sink.

“I have to meet Colin in less than ten minutes. I couldn't believe I overslept. I hate being
late; now I'm probably going to have indigestion, as well,” Ginny answered in a rush, before
bending down to kiss her Mum goodbye on the cheek.

“Aren't you even going to brush your teeth?”

Ginny stilled halfway through kissing her mother and flushed. “Right.”

Molly shook her head as Ginny dashed around and back to the sink to do just that. In no time at
all she was finished, kissed her Mum and ready to disapparate.

“Oh, wait, Gin,” Molly called before she could disappear. “Don't forget to pick up your
robes for your healer training. Mrs. Johnson assured me she'll have it ready by now.”

“Okay, Mum,” she said before disappearing with a loud `pop'.

She appeared in the middle of a bustling Diagon Alley and hurriedly walked towards the
designated meeting place, weaving around other witches and wizards with grace borne of being a
Chaser and having six older brothers to avoid and evade. She was unmindful of the appreciative
glances being thrown her way by wizards of varying ages, her long, lithe legs carrying her to her
destination quickly. Colin had chosen the newly opened restaurant *Platters* for their
meeting. Ginny had been apprehensive at first since the restaurant was located very near the
entrance to Knockturn Alley, but she had to admit to herself that the food there was exceptional.
Reservations were hard to come by and only those with the galleons to spare can afford to dine in
such a place.

She spotted Colin right away and motioned to him as the maitre d' met her at the door. She
obviously passed his scrutiny since he quietly led her over to where Colin was sitting, and left
just as quietly. Ginny gracefully settled on her chair and opened her menu. While her breakfast was
substantial at the Burrow, she could never say no to *Platters'* breakfast menus and
desserts.

“Sorry I'm late, Colin. Slept in.” She turned to the waiter that had appeared by her side
and gave her order.

Colin waved away her apology and continued with his cup of tea. “You're just in time.
I'm surprised Mrs. Weasley didn't make you eat at home.”

Ginny smiled sheepishly. “She did. I just can't say no to *Platters'* kippers and
treacle fudge; I'm addicted.”

Colin smiled knowingly. He knew that, of course. Even back at Hogwarts, Ginny was like a human
suction machine, eating about as much as her brother, perhaps more, and never gaining an extra
ounce for her effort.

“That doesn't mean you have to eat as though you haven't been acquainted with food for
weeks. That's not very lady like of you.”

Ginny grinned at her best friend. “You're just jealous that I can eat whatever I like.” She
leaned back on her chair and looked at him smugly. “Anyway, what was so important that you just had
to meet with me,” she asked, honestly perplexed at her friend's urgency. Colin always took care
of the business end of their relationship; it had always been understood that all that would be
required of her was her cooperation. That arrangement had worked very well in the past and Ginny
couldn't understand what prompted this apparent change now, months after the fact. It
wasn't that she had no head for negotiations or transactions of a business nature; it was that
she didn't want to.

Colin gently replaced his teacup on the table. Dabbing his lips carefully with a towel to hide
the grin that was blossoming on his lips, he cleared his throat. “About that. You remember that
shoot we had over at Dover, the one I told you I would try to sell to an American publication?”

Ginny didn't acknowledge that she remembered, just raised her eyebrows at his delaying
tactics. Inwardly though, she heaved a sigh of relief that her earlier apprehensions were
unfounded. Colin cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I was ready to ship them off when an
acquaintance at Elle saw them. And guess what?” Still no response from Ginny. Colin decided to
forge ahead. “They want you! Well, at least, they want your pictures. Mr. Moore asked me to pin you
down for a series of fashion shoots for their fall season. Isn't that great?”

Ginny could not appreciate Colin's excitement since she had no idea what - or who - Elle
was. She tried to recall what she knew about what Colin was talking about but came up blank. Then
her eyes suddenly lit up.

*Finally*, Colin thought as he saw Ginny's face light up in excitement, then he
realized she was excited about the food about to be delivered to their table. Typical. All he could
do was shake his head.

“You really must control this propensity you have for eating too much, Gin,” he advised as he
watched her attack the food set in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ginny answered in between bites, waving her hands at Colin as though to
tell him to continue with what he was saying.

Colin sighed. “Anyway, the shoot starts in a week. Everything's been taken care of; all you
have to do is show up.”

Ginny daintily wiped her lips with her napkin. “You do know I start healer training soon,
don't you? Right after my birthday?”

Colin dismissed that reminder disinterestedly. “We'll work around your schedule. It's a
good thing you're a witch, traveling to and fro should be a breeze.” He took out a folder from
his briefcase and handed it to her. “One last thing: I need you to sign on the dotted line. You can
read that while you're eating. I went over that myself and everything there's in
order.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked curiously, barely giving the papers in the folder a glance.

Colin rolled his eyes. “Your contract, of course. Honestly, one could wonder how you graduated
at the top of our class.”

Ginny just grinned at the exasperated man in front of her. It took a lot to rile Colin Creevey
and she delighted in the fact in that he never failed to show her that she could get to him even
without trying. “You know you love me,” she purred seductively, batting her eyelashes at him,
feeling safe in doing so since such wiles was lost on him. She didn't notice that several other
wizards may not have the same response, missing the hisses of appreciation and utensils finding
purchase on the floor as soon as she flashed her come hither look. Colin didn't.

It took a lot out of Colin to keep from laughing out loud as Ginny continued making faces at
him. Poor bastards, they had no chance at all where this witch was concerned. Struggling to
maintain a cool and collected face, he tried to assert control over the audacious witch.

“All right, all right, stop that already before you make me lose my breakfast. Honestly,
there's just no talking to you.”

Ginny pouted and fluttered her lashes even more. Colin couldn't help it, he had to laugh.
Reaching across the table, he caught Ginny's face in both his hands and kissed her on the lips,
a smirk forming on his lips as he heard several groans and growls from the male patron of the
restaurant. *Wizards are so predictable*, he thought wickedly, as he released Ginny and went
back to his seat. The witch was grinning at him unrepentantly.

“Sign it already, we don't have all day you know,” he said, once again pushing the papers to
her. He handed her a quill and watched bemusedly as she complied, not even bothering to read the
documents, once again reminding him of the trust that Ginny had in him and the fact that she
couldn't care less about the money that she would be earning with this job. He doubted she even
knew how much money she already had in her vaults at Gringotts or at the bank in Muggle London.
Somehow, he knew that even if she did, it wouldn't have mattered to her. Suffice it to say,
Ginny Weasley was already a very rich woman, and with this new project, she need never worry about
her future. She was no Draco Malfoy, not by a long shot, but let's just say that a few more
gigs like this one, and she was more than halfway there already. No mean feat for a witch of barely
18.

With a flourish, Ginny finished signing the documents and handed them back to Colin. It
wasn't that she didn't understand the intricacies of contract signing, she just had
complete faith that Colin would never screw her over. The money involved wasn't even all that
important; she knew what she was getting was more than she'd ever have need of so never really
bothered to find out how she was doing financially. She was doing this because she knew Colin
needed her and she would do anything for him.

“All right then,” she said as soon as Colin had put away the documents. “What else have you got
for me today?”

“Now we wait for the others to show up,” Colin answered nonchalantly, gesturing for a fresh pot
of tea to a nearby waiter.

“Others?” asked Ginny, bewildered. “What others?”

“Your birthday's coming up and the girls and myself thought what better way to celebrate it
than to go clubbing. Don't worry,” he said hurriedly when he saw the look of hesitation cross
her face, “I already asked your mother and she said it's all right. You're turning 18, you
know, it's about time you live a little, loosen up.”

Ginny was still reluctant. “You know I'm not much of a drinker, Colin, and I've never
understood the fascination with clubbing. I won't be much fun to have around.”

Colin was saved from responding with the arrival of four bubbling girls - Allyson Moore,
Kimberly Richards, Dana Shaw and Tara Martins. The new arrivals swooped down on them and occupied
the rest of the vacant chairs around the table.

“Have you been here long?” asked Dana as she surveyed the empty plate of Ginny's and the pot
of tea on Colin's.

“Not long,” Colin replied, winking at Ginny. None of their friends knew of Ginny's
`career', both of them agreeing that it would be asking too much on their part to keep that
little fact a secret from her family should the question ever be asked of them.

“So,” Allyson said, clasping her hands on the table eagerly. “All set then?” She looked eagerly
at Colin. “It's a go on Friday?”

“I don't know guys,” Ginny said apprehensively.

“Gin girl, it's gonna be fun, trust us,” Kimberly implored, giving her puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, Gin,” Tara asserted, while going over the menu. “We'll make sure you won't forget
that night for as long as you live.”

“That's just what I'm worried about,” Ginny declared. “I trust the lot of you about as
far as I can throw you. I don't want to be scarred for life with what you evil people have
planned for me.”

“Don't you trust us, Gin?” Colin said, putting on a hurt expression on his face. “We'd
never do anything to hurt you. Right, girls?”

Four voices assented quickly, too quickly to be of any comfort to Ginny. She just knew she'd
regret going with them but she also knew she really had no choice in the matter.

“All right, but I warn you, the minute I get the sense that you're up to something, I'm
out of there before you can even say Merlin. Understood?” She gave each of her friends a glare
worthy of Mrs. Weasley, only backing down as soon as she got their nervous acquiescence. “Now,
where were you planning on taking me, anyway?”

“The *Snake Pit*.”

Ginny's head snapped to Colin, her eyes wide. There was no way -

“Don't look at me like that, I didn't decide on the place, they did,” Colin said
defensively, wagging his finger at her and pointing to the four other people on their table.

“There's really no other choice, Gin, it's the hottest spot to be. It's the place to
see and *be* seen,” Kimberly said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Yes,” Dana added excitedly. “Can you just imagine if we happen to see *him* there that
night? I'll just die.”

“You die far too frequently, Dana, that surely can't be good for your health,” Ginny said
flatly. Inwardly, she shivered.

Him, of course, meant the owner of *Snake Pit**,* Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had opened the
club right after graduation, surprising everyone when he had ventured out on his own, preferring to
earn his way instead of going into the family business. Of course, there was no saying no to Lucius
Malfoy; so despite being the owner and operator of a profitable club, he was also his father's
right hand man and CEO in training. It really was no surprise when *Snake Pit* became the
premier place to be in only a few months, earning notoriety not only because of the patrons, who
were the elite of the wizarding world, the crème de la crème so to speak, but also because of its
owner. Admittedly, with his fair coloring and icy grey eyes, Draco Malfoy had become the most
desirable bachelor in the wizarding world (after Harry Potter, of course), and most witches, and an
equal number of wizards, could be seen fighting for his attention. His being very elusive and
preference for Pansy Parkinson's company only added to his allure.

And Ginny was supposed to risk spending her birthday in his club? No way!

She shook her head firmly. “No, there's no way in hell I'm stepping one foot into that
den of - of - I can't even find the word to describe that place! I am not spending my birthday
in that place!”

“Come on Ginny, let it go. Hogwarts was a long time ago, and the war has long been fought and
won. Isn't it about time you got over this hatred you have for Malfoy?” Tara looked at her
curiously.

*If only I do hate him, my life would be simpler*, she thought. Shaking her head, she
turned to Tara. “I don't hate him,” she said. *That's true*, she thought privately,
*I'm in love with the prat.* “But it doesn't mean that I'd want to spend any
amount of time in a place owned by him where the likelihood of me seeing his gitness is highly
probable.”

“Why not?” demanded Kimberly. “Give one very valid reason and we'll think of backing down on
this. And that whole our-families- are-enemies-therefore-we-are-too doesn't count.”

Ginny was trapped and she knew it. There really was no reason, short of telling them she was
hopelessly in love with the prat, an answer that was better left unsaid. Come to think of it, they
might even insist she go if they knew.

“Why do I have to suffer on the night of my birthday? Isn't it supposed to be an enjoyable
time for me?” she whined.

Dana grinned. “But you will enjoy it, Ginny, we promise you that. Have we ever let you down
before?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and smirked. “You don't really want me to answer that, do you? `Coz I
don't think we have enough time from now `til Friday if I have to enumerate the times when you
*have* let me down.”

All she received were four identical grins that were unrepentant.

*Oh, bugger**.* “Fine,” she relented. “We'll go to that - place. But you don't
do anything I don't like or I swear to Merlin I'd hex you so good you'll be picking
pieces of yourselves from here to Scotland. Got that?” She didn't quite hear their response,
she was too busy trying to avoid suffocation as all four hugged her at the same time, with Colin
looking on, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She knew she would be in for it and couldn't wait for
Friday to get it over with already. If she had known how that night would end, and the events that
would follow, she might not have been so hasty in her wish.

-->



3. The Beginning
----------------



**Chapter 3: The Beginning**

“We're through, Gin. I think I have all the materials I need,” Colin said, putting down his
camera and smiling at the young woman before him.

“Finally, I thought this day would never end.” She caught the robe Colin threw at her and put it
on over the suit she was wearing. “What are you using these photos for again?” she asked as she
took a peek at the bikini that was now covered by the thick terry cloth.

“Some American publication you don't know,” Colin replied dismissively. “It's a muggle
one so there shouldn't be any problem. Anyway, this should be the last one `til that Elle
spread. You ready for that?”

“What's to prepare? You always tell me what to do anyway.”

Colin tilted his head and grinned. “True.” His eyes suddenly twinkled mischievously. “How about
tonight, then? You ready for that?”

Ginny groaned and her shoulders sagged wearily. “Don't remind me. I've been trying to
convince myself there's no need to panic, but guess what? I still hyperventilate when I think
about it!” She picked up her gear and started for the ladies to change. “And Dana insisted I wear
the dress she picked out especially for me, her words not mine, and won't let me see it! I
shudder to think of the amount of cloth missing in the `ensemble' she had in mind.” She
disappeared behind the door and emerged a few minutes later dressed in a white spaghetti strapped
knit shirt, faded denim jeans and thong sandals. “I mean, have you seen her taste in clothes?” she
continued her rant. “I'd be lucky to escape with my virtue intact should I ever decide to do a
Shaw makeover.”

Colin laughed. “You're awful! Dana would never do anything to harm you. Much,” he finished,
dodging the fist she threw at him.

“Git. I'll get you for that,” Ginny threatened, shaking her fist at the laughing Colin.

“Ok, ok, bygones. I just couldn't help myself. It's not everyday I'd get to see
Ginevra `hard-to-faze' Weasley so rattled. Who knows it'll only take a Dana Shaw to shake
you in your boots.” Colin raised a brow, his lips quirking in suppressed mirth.

Ginny gave Colin a dirty look and the finger.

Colin gasped in mock horror. “Ginevra Weasley! What will your mother think?! I ought to put you
across my knee and spank the living daylights out of you.”

Ginny flipped her hair at him and strutted away, hips swaying provocatively. “You can try,
Colin,” she threw back at him, “but we both know you don't have the balls to do it.” Her blasé
retort ended in a shriek when Colin grabbed her around the middle and carried her over his
shoulders caveman style.

“I don't, do I? Are you sure about that?”

“I take it back! I take it back!” Ginny pleaded, squirming. “C'mon, Colin, I think my lunch
is eager to make an appearance right about now!”

Ginny was set on her feet so fast it took her several seconds to realize she was upright again.
She blew hair off her face and swallowed convulsively.

“That was nasty, Colin.”

“Serves you right, brat,” Colin replied. “Now get ready already, I don't want to be here all
day. Got to prepare for tonight remember?”

Ginny sighed. “Like I'm likely to forget.”

“Cheer up, hon,” Colin said, “it won't be too bad. Just think about it this way: it'll
be 364 days before they can con you into doing something you don't like again. Between now and
then, you have all the time in the world to think of ways to make them pay for putting you through
this. Sounds like a plan?”

Ginny perked up right away. “Yeah.”

“See you tonight then? At Dana's right?”

“Right. See yah.”

And with that, they both disapparated.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Gin, get out here already!”

Ginny Weasley cringed at the impatient tone calling for her. It was not to be borne, really. It
had taken her nearly the rest of the week to get ready for what her friends had in store for her,
and she was still not ready. She would have gladly skipped this day just so could settle her nerves
again.

She didn't really know why she had such a bad feeling about tonight, all she could surmise
was that something was going to happen and she was powerless to stop it. The horsing around she and
Colin did that afternoon took her mind off her panic for a while, but once dark slowly set in, all
her fears started battling for supremacy again. She was not one to rely on divination; still, it
seemed as though fate was playing a game with her. She had been so preoccupied with trying to
figure out what has her so apprehensive that all through the shoot with Colin, she had to
constantly ask the same question all over again and still could not get the presence of mind to
remember her friend's answer. She was normally a stickler for details, and more than once she
had been told that she had a vast capacity for remembering ambiguous facts; now she was just
stomped. And she hated the feeling.

“Ginny!”

She jumped at the nearness of the voice, as though it was just outside the room she was
currently getting ready in. Just as she was about to reply, the door was flung open and in walked
Dana, impatience clearly written on her pretty face.

“What's taking so long? I thought you'd skipped out on us.” Her eyes took in Ginny,
approval clearly evident as she beheld the redhead before her.

Ginny tugged on the bodice of the dark green dress she was wearing, swearing to herself when the
material refused to cover her bosom.

“I thought about it, believe me. Tell me again why I have to wear this dress?”

“Because you look fantastic in it!” she answered grinning. “You look positively scrumptious.
Stop fidgeting!” she admonished as Ginny once again attempted to drag the dress to areas better
left covered.

“I can't help it!” she complained bitterly. “There's not enough material in this dress
to cover a 2 year old. I feel naked!”

“That's the idea, silly. Don't complain, you look gorgeous. Green has always been your
color.”

Ginny glared at the other girl, but inwardly she had to agree. The color managed to throw into
prominence her pale, translucent skin and dark, auburn hair. Made of material so slinky she
didn't have a name for it, it hugged her body and accentuated every curve she had. The slim
halter top clasped at her nape with a tiny silver buckle, it dipped in front and met just below her
breasts, leaving her shoulders and back bare. She had to forego wearing a bra. The dress tapered
over her abdomen before flaring over her hips, ending just above her knees. What was worse was that
there would be no material to cover her back; it was as bare as the day she was born. The dress
dipped low and only began again above the curve of her butt, sitting dangerously low on it; it was
a wonder her knickers weren't showing. She had been quite upset when she had seen what she had
to wear that night; the only consolation she had felt was when she saw that the dress was long
enough to cover at least some part of her. That feeling quickly turned to disgust when she had put
the dress on and found out that though it was long enough to cover her legs; it had high splits
running the front of both thighs, ending dangerously near her crotch. She was more horrified to
note that there was nothing to conceal her legs every time she took a step. *Bloody hell, she
wore more material to bed than this thing.*

Ginny didn't let up glaring at her devious friend. “Whose bright idea was it to make me wear
this sorry excuse for a dress? I look like a tart! Are you freaks trying to get me raped!”

Dana grinned cheekily. “Mine, of course. Who else would have enough of a fashion sense among
your friends? And you don't look like a tart, you look like every man's dream dessert come
to life!”

Before Ginny could snap at her for her smart-alecky response, three more people pushed their way
into the room and started gushing at Ginny.

“Oh, Gin, you look amazing!” Kimberley.

“I'm so jealous! I wish I had your legs.” Allyson.

“I hate you, you know that! You're so bloody gorgeous; the rest of us would look like hags
beside you.” Tara.

Ginny felt like groaning. She had a powerful headache coming on and her friends weren't
helping any.

“Enough!” Dana finally halted all proclamations of admiration from the three girls. “We should
go; we don't want to be too late.”

Allyson rolled her eyes dramatically. “D, it's only nine; we don't want to be too early.
And besides, Ginny hasn't any make up on yet.”

Their victim started backing away as soon as four pairs of eyes turned on her and started coming
at her. “C'mon guys, you know I don't like make-up. It makes me look like Pansy Parkinson
on a bad day.”

Four smirks were all she received before hands grabbed her and proceeded to attack her face with
brushes and sticks. Her hair was pulled and twisted and prodded until she was sure she had gone
bald. It felt like forever before the four girls were finally satisfied with their handiwork and
stepped back from her.

“There. All finished,” Tara declared, looking smugly at Ginny. “Why don't you take a look?”
she urged, pulling and pushing her towards the mirror.

Ginny stared at her reflection, surprised. Oddly enough, it wasn't all bad. Her hair was
twisted on top of her head, secured by a silver serpent clasp, with little tendrils strategically
dangling to emphasize the long and smooth column of her neck. Surprisingly, there wasn't much
make-up on her face, just a touch of color on her eyes and cheeks, and a pink sheen on her lips.
She looked good, if she had to say so herself. Almost pretty.

“We didn't put too much color for your make-up, you look so much better with less,” Allyson
was saying.

“You should knock `em dead, Gin,” Dana said excitedly.

Ginny smiled at her friends through the mirror. They really weren't too bad, if they could
just get it out of their heads that she wasn't interested in being set-up. “Thank you, you
guys. I know you just want me to enjoy tonight and I'm sorry if I've been giving you so
much grief about it.”

“Nah,” Kimberley said. “Don't worry about it. We have every intention of snagging a gorgeous
wizard for ourselves anyway. So don't you go worrying your pretty little head about it.”

“Same old Kimberley, always have an ulterior motive to everything, do you?” teased Tara, winking
at Ginny.

“No more than you, my dear, no more than you,” shot back Kimberley, smiling cheekily.

“Shall we then?” announced Dana, gesturing for the door. “Colin's been waiting for ages for
us to get down, and you know he's not a patient man.”

Ginny took a deep breath before nodding. “Let's get this over with.”

And with that, five witches filed out of the bedroom to meet with their wizard escort for the
night.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ginny and her party apparated outside of a crowded building with muted lights overhead, flashing
the name of the club. There was a very long queue in front of a cordoned off area, being guarded by
2 behemoths of wizards who looked ready to make a snack of anybody who dared cross the threshold
uninvited. Already, Ginny felt relieved that there was very little likelihood they'd get passed
this guard and might just have to go home. Her hope was short lived however, when she was pushed to
the front, barely keeping herself from falling flat on her face. As she turned to bite off
whomever's head it was that pushed her off, she was dismayed to note that she had reached the
front of the line and was now standing in front of the guards. They really were giants, she
thought, as she had to tilt her head to look up at them. Before she could open her mouth to say
anything at all, one of them was already unlatching the chain that separated the line from the
club.

Several groans and protests erupted from the queue as Ginny was once again pushed forward by her
friends. Never in her life has she been manhandled so. She faced her companions before they could
pass through the elegant double doors of the club and fixed them with a death glare.

“What the hell was that back there?” she fairly snarled, her arms crossed across her chest, one
foot tapping aggressively as she waited for their explanation.

There were identical sheepish looks on all their faces, not one meeting her eyes. They seemed to
have found the wall and the ceiling extremely fascinating pieces of art. Ginny was having none of
it.

“Well?” she demanded fiercely, effectively barring their entrance to the club.

Dana gave her a tentative look. “Well, Gin, you see, um, the thing is, it's like this - ”
she trailed off, looking imploringly at the other members of their party.

“A complete sentence would be helpful right about now,” Ginny said sarcastically, tapping her
foot furiously fast.

Tara picked up the gauntlet. “What Dana's trying to say, Gin, is that you were out ticket to
getting in.” She sneaked a glance at the fuming redhead before looking away again. “You see,
it's very hard to get past those giant butlers, they're very discriminating. They like
extremes, you see. Extremely rich, extremely popular, extremely powerful, and in your case,
extremely beautiful.”

“You mean to tell me,” Ginny hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously, “is that the only reason you
decided to take me here is so you could use me as your passes!” Similar cringes and grimaces
confirmed her deduction. Ginny had to close her eyes and count to ten to calm down. When that
didn't work, she proceeded to count up to twenty. Finally, when she opened her eyes, she had
recovered enough of her calm to express herself eloquently to her friends.

“There was really no call for you to deceive me like this. Why didn't you just tell me?”

Deceived by her soft voice, Allyson explained. “You wouldn't have agreed to come, Gin, we
know you. And we didn't think you'd take it so bad; we just wanted you to have fun before
you get all serious with your life. You're only young once, you know, live a little.”

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. “And what if your plan had gone awry? What if that giant out
there refused us admittance? How were you all so sure I could get you in?”

Kimberley seemed to have regained her courage as she answered. “We didn't really think about
it. I mean, there wasn't really any doubt you could get in, and take us with you in the
process. Like Tara said, they only allow entrance to the more beautiful witches or wizards, and
you're the best looking witch I've seen in a very long time.”

Ginny refused to blush at the unintentional compliment Kimberley had given her and sighed.

“I hate that you had to use me like this, but since we're already here, we might as well go
in now.” Four faces brightened quickly as they scrambled to open the double doors leading to the
Snake's den. Ginny detained Colin with a hand on his arm, allowing the girls to go in without
them.

As soon as the doors closed again, Ginny faced Colin. “Why didn't you tell me what their
plans were, Colin?”

The wizard shook his head reluctantly. “I wanted to, Gin, believe me. I knew how you'd
react. But I also realized that they were right. Ah, ah,” he said, wagging a finger at her,
silencing her protest. “You can't deny that you're far too serious for your own good. I
know I haven't exactly been a help, what with my occupying most of your time with photo shoots
and what-not, so I thought why not? This is just one night. What could possibly happen tonight
that'll drastically change your future of becoming the youngest healer in a century? Aha, is
that a smile I see?” Colin exclaimed exaggeratedly. “C'mon, let's go inside before that
smile becomes history. I have made it my mission tonight to get you pissed so I could have my
wicked way with you.”

That was how they entered the *Snake Pit*, Ginny laughing raucously and Colin looking at
her lasciviously. Both of them failed to notice a pair of icy gray eyes which took in Ginny's
exquisite form before entering a side entrance marked `Personnel Only'.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ginny and Colin joined their friends at a corner booth after weaving their way through a throng
of wildly gyrating bodies. At some point, Ginny almost stepped on a couple lying on the floor doing
something Ginny did not want to think about at all. And she thought she'd had her dose of shock
for the night.

Sliding into the booth beside Tara, she heaved a relieved sigh. “Now I've really seen
everything,” she declared, looking around the club, or what she could see of it anyway.

“What?” Allyson asked curiously.

“I mean, this place is just unbelievable,” she said earnestly. “Who knew you could do that in a
public place?” she asked, gesturing at a couple groping each other like there was no tomorrow.
Ginny was pretty sure something else was going on there as the witch ground her lower body on the
wizard's lap. “I mean, honestly. Do we really have to witness how one go about populating the
wizarding world?”

The other girls snickered at Ginny's outrage. They knew, of course, that Ginny was a virgin,
and have never felt the need to change that particular fact.

“Just ignore them, Gin,” Colin advised, amused at the censure in her voice. “I'll go get us
a drink.”

“I'll take a rain check on that, I'm off to the dance floor,” Dana stated, getting up
and starting for the crowded dance floor. A chorus of `me too's' later and Ginny was left
at their booth, trying to blend into the darkness. There was no way she was going to get off her
butt; she had no intention of showcasing her thighs to the public, thank you very much. She waited
for Colin to arrive with their drinks, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him coming back
her way. She was disappointed when he only deposited her drink and begged off, saying he had to
talk to somebody somewhere about something. All that registered with her was that she was
effectively abandoned. Huffing indignantly, she took a long sip of her drink, and liked it
instantly. *What did Colin say this was again,* she thought as she took another sip. *Iced
tea something. Ah, Long Island Iced Tea,* she thought, recalling the name Colin had given her.
It was pretty good.

Ginny had never been much of a drinker. During her Hogwarts years, she was strictly a
one-bottle-butterbeer girl. With two, she would already feel slightly woozy; three left her more
than a little tipsy; four had her knocking into walls and abashedly apologizing to it; while five
knocked her out for the count.

She finished off her drink a few moments later and motioned for another one to a passing waiter.
At least, she thought it was a waiter. *Do clubs have waiters,* she thought, wondering why she
was suddenly feeling so lightheaded and giddy. Huh, must be due to the smoke and the lack of food
intake. When her drink arrived, she nursed it this time, not wanting to get pissed, although, to
her way of thinking, how could an iced tea get you drunk?

She didn't know how long she sat in their booth before Colin came back. Must not have been
long, she had only had two more of the delicious tea after all, and she was feeling very good.

“Hey, Gin, sorry about that. That was Miranda Richardson I talked to back there, you know, from
Wizard's Illustrated. She wanted to tell me that they had wanted me to shoot their October
Issue with you as cover,” Colin explained in a rush. “I had to explain to them that you'd be
unavailable for the next few weeks. Took quite a lot of explanation before they finally let it go.
Hasn't those four been back yet?” he asked as though only just remembering they had other
company.

“Nope,” Ginny answered, shaking her head emphatically.

“Figures. C'mon, let's dance.” Colin grabbed her hand and pulled her off her seat. Now,
ordinarily, Ginny would have stuck to her vow not to do anything that could remotely cause her
embarrassment, but after the four tall glasses of the tea, she was too sloshed to care. She allowed
Colin to bring her to the center of the dance floor and promptly wrapped her arms around his neck
as soon as they started dancing. Strangely enough, Ginny was a great dancer, another thing that set
her apart from her brothers. Her body moved in perfect rhythm to the music, her sexuality made all
the more obvious by the dress. Colin complimented her very well, being a great dancer himself. They
moved together effortlessly, Ginny enjoying the exhilaration of movement, not noticing nor caring
the appreciative looks being directed her way. Colin, for his part, enjoyed having a partner that
knew how to dance and that's it. He wasn't too worried about the way those other wizards
were assessing Ginny, he knew they would never have a chance with her. Not unless they had white
blonde hair and icy gray eyes.

They danced for quite a while, alternating from fast to slow tunes, neither caring that they
were the envy of several people. When finally they returned to their booth, Ginny had danced away
most of her tipsiness, laughing easily with Colin. Allyson and Kimberley were back at their booth,
but both Tara and Dana were suspiciously still absent.

“Hey guys, where's D and T?” asked Colin suspiciously.

Allyson grinned slyly. “Gone. They met these two gorgeous wizards and now they're off
probably to snog. And then some.”

Ginny snorted. “You mean shag right?”

Kimberley gasped in mock outrage. “Ginevra Weasley! I'm shocked! I ought to wash that mouth
of yours with soap.” Then she giggled.

“I wasn't born yesterday, you know; just because I've never done it doesn't mean
others don't. I'm more surprised you two haven't found somebody yourselves.”

Allyson grinned. “Well, now that you mention it, we do have to cut our evening short. We
promised to meet with our own find in ten minutes. We were just waiting for you two to get back to
tell you we were taking off.”

Ginny sighed. “I just had to be right.” She shook her head at the two girls ruefully. “Go. I
wouldn't want you blaming me if you missed your date.”

“Thanks, Gin.” Allyson and Kimberley said in unison before apparating with a loud crack.

“We better call it a night too, Gin, it's getting late,” Colin said, glancing at his wrist
watch.

“I didn't know it had gone so late already,” Ginny said wonderingly, wondering where the
time had gone.

“Should we apparate together?” inquired Colin as he helped her stand.

Ginny hesitated. “Um, you go ahead. I think I'll just floo back to Dana's. I'm not
sure those teas agreed with me. I don't want to get splinched or anything.”

Colin had no cause to worry; Ginny had always been a very sensible girl, more so now that she
was an adult.

Ok then, I'll see you next week; I should have the pictures ready by then.” And with a kiss
on her forehead, Colin disappeared too.

Ginny wandered over to the bar to ask where she could use a floo and slowly made her way to the
direction the bartender had indicated. Along the way, she had to refuse numerous invitations thrown
at her, from the innocent to the more decadent. She had to sigh in relief once she reached the end
of the corridor, the turn of which would lead her to the much coveted fireplace.

However, before she could make the turn, strong hands grabbed her elbows and stilled her
movements. Irritated at whoever it was that waylaid her; she looked up to give the fellow a piece
of her mind. Having to look up, in itself, was unusual since with her height, she usually can look
any man straight in the eye. What shocked her even more was that she knew those eyes she was
looking into. She knew of only one person who possessed those gray eyes: Draco Malfoy.

-->



4. Draco Malfoy
---------------



**Chapter 4: Draco Malfoy**

“Malfoy,” Ginny breathed fearfully.

The familiar smirk made its appearance on the blond man's face. “The Weaslette has grown up,
I see,” he drawled lazily, looking Ginny up and down.

Ginny could not prevent the shiver that ran down her spine. This wasn't good, this
wasn't good at all. Swallowing convulsively, she tugged on the elbow he hadn't yet
released. “I was just going, so if you could just give me back my arm, I'll remove myself from
your august presence.”

The only answer she received was the further tightening of his grip on her elbow. That's
gonna bruise, she thought idly*,* now trying to pry his fingers with her free hand. She
stiffened when she suddenly found her front pressed to his.

“What's the hurry, Ginevra? The night's still young,” he said smoothly, running his
finger across her bare shoulder, “and we haven't danced yet. Shall we?” And without waiting for
her acquiescence, he dragged her back to the dance floor.

Ginny was getting frantic. She was alone and the son of her family's mortal enemy, not to
mention the man of her dreams, was detaining her unnecessarily. She scanned the crowd around her,
hoping to see a familiar face she could call out to for help. That was a useless endeavor since the
club was so dark she could barely see two feet in front of her. She felt, more than see, Draco draw
her in, wrapping his arms around her, their bodies indecently close. She kept her arms against his
chest, trying to lean as far away from him as she could as he started to move them along with the
slow tune. When she felt his breath near her neck, she had to take a deep breath to control her
rioting pulse. This was just a dream, she thought, he's not really here, holding me in his
arms. I'm still in bed at Dana's.

“How have you been, little Ginny?” he said quietly by her ear. “I heard you did quiet well in
your last year at Hogwarts. Head Girl, hmmm?”

Ginny looked at him in surprise. “How did you know about that?”

Draco gave a short laugh. “Nothing about the esteemed Weasleys stay a secret, Ginny, not after
the war at least. You and your little band of merry Gryffindors have become quite the precious
commodity in the wizarding world.” He eyed the blank look on her face. “You don't know, do you?
Typical,” he snorted, “you're always the last to know about the more interesting developments
in wizarding society.”

“What are you getting at, Malfoy,” Ginny demanded, her stance rigid at his slur of her and her
friends. In love or not, she was not above hexing him if he continued in this vein.

“Relax, wildcat,” he said, amused at her fierce look, “I meant no offense. It's just
interesting to note that the desirability of your little team has been the stuff of gossip for the
past few months and yet you're innocently ignorant about it. I wonder why that is.”

“Explain,” Ginny said through gritted teeth, now standing perfectly still.

Draco looked her directly in the eye. “Let's just say if your father weren't such an
important person at the Ministry nowadays, you would be walking around now with a different family
name.”

Ginny's jaw dropped in shock and her eyes widened. On another, the look might come off as
extremely unattractive, but on her it looked oddly endearing, cute even. Not that the incomparable
Draco Malfoy would ever say so out loud.

As if realizing she was giving a good impression of a goldfish, Ginny quickly shut her mouth and
shook her head. “I don't believe you.”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “No skin off my back if you don't; I just wonder how long your
father can resist the pressure and hold the bloodhounds at bay. I hear they come in packs, you
know. It's a good thing the Weasel King is almost engaged to that loony character or he'd
probably be as hotly contested as you are. I don't know why,” he added with a sneer.

Ginny didn't want to believe him, but in all the years she had known him, this was the first
time Draco Malfoy had ever looked this honest and sincere. It comes as no shock that causing her
great unrest and fear for her future would bring out the best in him.

“How do you know all this?” she asked resignedly, her tone weary.

“I have my sources,” he answered simply. “I have my ways of getting what I want. Any time. All
the time.”

Ginny blinked at him. Once. Twice. She couldn't have possibly heard him right.

“Why would you want to know anything that's going on about me?” she asked, confused.

Draco once again started moving them to the music. “Do you really have to ask?” he said, his
hands branding her with his warmth where they touched her bare back. “I find you fascinating,
Ginny,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear, making her shudder, “I always have. It irritates
me to no end how a freckled little girl could get under my skin, but you did. I used to wonder if
you have it everywhere, you know.”

“Have what?” Ginny gulped. Merlin and Morgana, if she was dreaming this encounter, then she
never wanted to wake up again.

“Freckles,” he answered simply. “It used to keep me up at all hours of night, thinking about you
and freckles at interesting places.” One of his hands came out front, teasingly trailing a finger
from the smooth column of her neck, moving agonizingly slowly down her chest. “I used to wonder if
you'd mind if I explored just how far reaching they really are. Of course, then I remember how
adept you are at curses and hexes and somehow, the urge to follow through loses its urgency, not by
much, but enough.”

Ginny could only watch in morbid fascination as he drew invisible patterns on the valley between
her breasts. She knew she ought to stop this, that what he was doing was wrong on so many levels,
but she couldn't. She had always been honest with herself, sometimes even brutally so; she
welcomed his advances and desired even more for something she didn't know the name to. Another
might blame the alcohol they'd been imbibing for the uncharacteristic way they were behaving,
but Ginny only acknowledged that being halfway drunk made her inhibitions take a momentary
vacation. And the inner Ginny, the side of her she had spent all her adolescent life suppressing,
welcomed the respite.

“But you don't have them anymore, do you?” he whispered huskily, invading even more of her
personal space, one muscular leg insinuating between hers subtly. “Now you're all peaches and
cream, soft as silk, and,” he dipped his head and kissed the side of her neck, “sweet as honey,” he
finished, his tongue laving the erratic pulse at her neck.

Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from moaning. She was shaking so much; she was in serious
jeopardy of collapsing on her feet. Damn hormones!

“Malfoy,” she croaked, inwardly cringing at how she sounded, “are you drunk by any chance?”

He didn't let up kissing and nipping at her neck as he grunted, “Why?”

Ginny jumped in surprise when the hand that only moments before were idly tracing patterns on
her skin, suddenly was lost inside the tops of her dress, gently playing with her left breast,
pinching and pulling at the engorged nipple.

“Because you've apparently forgotten that Malfoys never associate with Weasleys,” she
answered, unable to keep the moan from escaping her lips. “And Malfoys don't do to Weasleys
what you're doing to me now,” she added breathlessly.

Draco chuckled as he momentarily ceased his ministrations at her neck. “Ah, but then no Weasley
has ever been as exquisitely beautiful as you, my sweet, and I, sad to say, am just a man. An
excellent example of a man,” he said self-importantly, “but only a man nonetheless.” His gray eyes
suddenly darkened. “And you're every man's dream, Ginny Weasley,” he said shortly before
doing what he'd been wanting to do all night.

She had dreamed of this for more than two years but never, in all her imaginings, did she think
that the fantasy would pale so miserably in the face of reality. Draco's mouth was so soft, so
sweet that she could not help but press on; wanting to know everything there was to know about this
man through this contact. When she felt his tongue prod at the seam of her lips, she opened it
obediently, welcoming the invasion and reveling in it. Her arms rose up to wrap around his neck,
drawing him even closer, as her tongue tentatively met his own.

Ginny had been kissed before, of course; she had gone out with Michael Corner for almost a year
during her fourth year before she let that relationship go; Michael had wanted something she was
not prepared to give and shortly thereafter, she realized there was no real foundation to their
relationship. Then fifth year saw her taking up with Dean Thomas, but that, too, was an ill-fated
union, considering that having an irate brother in the form of one Ronald Weasley breathing down
your neck does not exactly inspire romance. Quite the opposite, in fact. Then sixth year had her
falling in love with this prat who had his tongue currently down her throat. She had been so
horrified at that apocalyptic realization that she had tried to bury the feeling by engaging in a
sort of marathon dating for the first term of her sixth year. She only succeeded in angering her
brother.

Now, Ginny had to concede that she had never really known what it was like to be kissed. Where
before she had always been able to retain her level headedness, now she threw common sense out the
window. If she could crawl under Draco's skin and allowed to stay there, she would have done so
already. He made her feel so much passion, so much desire, that she feared she could very well
forget her name at the intensity of it. That his hands was also busy touching areas no other hands
had ever ventured into before was not helping her any.

Finally, when oxygen became a serious issue, they parted, breathing heavily, hearts pounding
deliciously. Ginny laid her cheek against his chest, enjoying the rapid beating of his heart. *I
made him feel like this*, she thought to herself joyously.

After a few moments, Draco grasped both her hands and tilted his head to the side. “C'mon,
let's get out of here,” he said, dragging her slowly away from the dance floor.

Ginny followed him mindlessly, her head full of thoughts about him and what tonight meant. She
wasn't too surprised when he pulled her back to him once they reached an alcove and pressed her
gently against the wall. She kissed him back passionately, showing him how she felt, holding
nothing back. She felt his hands at her nape moments later, releasing the clasp of her halter top
and drawing the soft material down, his hands automatically finding and kneading the soft globes.
Her head fell back against the wall as incredible pleasure washed over her, her arms falling down
to his waist to keep him close as she arched her back, offering more of herself.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, trailing kisses all over her neck and shoulders, before finally
settling on his goal. Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from crying out when he took one pebbled
nipple into his mouth and started suckling on it. Dear Merlin, who knew there was a connection
between her nipples and that now wet spot between her legs. She squirmed, afraid for him to find
out he could bring her to such heights of passion so easily. But apparently, Draco guessed her
thoughts when next she felt his hands pressed intimately at her core, her knickers notwithstanding.
“And so responsive,” he added huskily, rubbing the core of Ginny's desire with a practiced
finger.

“Please,” Ginny whimpered, her head tossing from side to side, unaware of what it was she was
pleading for.

“Hush; all in good time, Ginny, all in good time,” he said as he continued what he was doing,
enjoying the untutored expression on his lover's face. Draco had never been a patient man, but
with this woman, he was more than willing to test his limits. Out of all the witches he'd been
with, and yes, there were more than he cared to count; Ginny Weasley was, by far, the best of them
all. He liked watching her as pleasure upon pleasure assaulted her senses, something that he has
never done before nor ever cared to do.

When he finally felt his patience nearing its end, he flicked an expert finger at a particular
spot and drowned out Ginny's cry with his mouth as she came, kissing her fiercely. She slumped
against him tiredly, clinging to his lithe form like a drowning person desperate for salvation.

After he was sure that she had recovered sufficiently enough to be able to stand, he took out
his wand and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Hold on,” she heard him say before she felt herself being pulled into a double apparition. She
closed her eyes tightly, afraid to see if he had splinched them both. The next thing she noticed
was the soft sheets at her back as a welcomed burden pressed her into it. She opened her eyes and
stared in wonder at the high ceiling of the room they had landed in. Her eyes took in the muted
elegance of the bedroom; there was no question about it: Draco had taken her to his bedroom and she
felt a multitude of questions attacking her from all direction. She looked down at Draco, who was
currently trying, and failing, to divest her of her dress, and the first question tumbled out.

“You don't have a four-poster bed.” She could have smacked herself for coming off so empty
headed. *State the obvious, why don't you*, she thought to herself angrily.

He smiled that devastating smile before giving her a response. “No, I've never really liked
those. It served its purpose in Hogwarts, of course, to give one a semblance of privacy, but why
would I want one here? It's not like anybody can just come in to interrupt me and my -
sleep.”

The deliberate pause before he said sleep made Ginny blush. Yeah right, sleep my arse.

“Now, as much as I want to discuss my choice of beds,” he continued, “I'd much rather get on
with taking this dress off of you, but I seem to be having no luck whatsoever. Care to help?”

Ginny smirked at him and stole her hands underneath her hips. It never occurred to her that that
action might bring to his attention the fact that she was bare from the waist up, her breast on
display for his delectation. His eyes gleamed as he leaned over her and proceeded to make love to
her breasts again.

Ginny groaned as she finished releasing the hidden clasp at the small of her back, her hands
grasping his head as he feasted on her breasts. She writhed beneath him erotically, unknowingly
rubbing at the bulge in his pants and jerked in surprise when he hissed as though in pain. He
straightened up again, his eyes closed as he took deep, calming breaths.

“Draco, are you all right? Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” she asked anxiously,
her elbows supporting her weight as she rose slightly in worry.

When he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything. He only tugged on her dress until it came
off and then looked at her intently, naked except for the dark green silk knickers that covered her
curls. He then started to undress, unbuttoning his white shirt with precision movements and
throwing the garment over his shoulder where it landed beside her dress. Then he started on his
pants, getting rid of the belt first before systematically undoing the single button then unzipping
it, letting it fall around his knees before pulling it completely off. Now clad only in his black
silk boxers, he pulled that off too, daring Ginny with his eyes to look down at what he'd
uncovered.

Ginny saw the challenge in his eyes and for the first time in her life, she considered backing
down from it. But she was a Gryffindor, damn it, and Gryffindors never backed down from a
challenge. Sending a silent prayer to all her ancestors from beyond, her gaze drifted south until
she was met with a sight that was sure to be a regular fixture of her dreams from here on out.
Gryffindor bravery be damned, she was not going to let him stick that thing in her. No sir!

“Ummm,” she started, flicking a nervous gaze at the amusement on Draco's face. “Would you
mind easing off the leg a bit? I'm starting to lose all feelings there,” she said, hoping he
would believe the lie. When she felt him comply, she quickly turned over to make her escape easier.
Only, Draco had other plans.

As she hurriedly slithered from under him, he placed his hands on both sides of her hips and
dragged her knickers off her hips without preamble. All Ginny could utter was a muffled `Eep'
as she was turned over onto her back again with Draco covering her from head to foot. She gasped as
he easily pried open her legs and nestled between it, his erection pressing intimately against
hers.

“What's the matter Ginny? Am I too big for you to handle?” he asked, his lips twitching.

Ginny closed her eyes as she heard the double entendre. Smug bastard, she fumed.

“Of course not,” she lied through her teeth, “I was just uncomfortable, is all.”

Draco smirked. “Liar,” he said smoothly, running his hands on her thighs. “God you're
beautiful,” he breathed in wonder, staring hard at her. “You almost make me regret what I have to
do.”

If Ginny's mind hadn't been too muddled by what he was doing to her limbs, she might
have been able to ask him what he meant. As it was, it was too late for her.

“How many have there been, Ginny?” he asked, his tone hard. “How many others have seen you
looking like this, so ready, so willing.” That, Ginny heard, and when she opened her mouth to
answer him, he stilled her with a finger to her lips. “It doesn't matter. Tonight is mine.
Tonight you won't be able to think of anybody else but me as I give you pleasure. I'm going
to ruin you for any other man, Ginny,” he promised as he replaced his finger with his lips.

Ginny wanted to tell him that there were no others but predictably, as soon as he started
kissing her, all sense of logic left her except the need to prolong this moment. Her breath hitched
as she felt one of his wonderful hands find her core and part the swollen lips, unerringly finding
that nubbin of flesh that was the source of all her pleasures.

“I want that when another hand is doing this,” he said huskily as he rubbed his thumb gently at
the sensitive flesh, causing her to arch her hips against his hand, “all you'll see and think
about is me. And when he does this,” he said as he slowly entered her with a finger, “you'll
remember how much I filled you, that no one else can ever measure up.” He inserted another finger,
wanting to go with his natural inclination and just take her, but knowing that in order for her to
remember this night, he would have to deny his baser urges. “Do you understand me, Ginny?” he asked
fiercely as he watched her face.

Ginny looked at him and nodded. “No one else,” she whispered. The possessiveness on Draco's
face assured Ginny that there was nothing for her to worry about. Raised in an environment of love,
she knew how to recognize the same in other people, and the emotions pouring out of Draco was so
full of it that she was humbled by the sheer magnitude of his regard for her. Never in all her life
did she expect him to return her feelings; three years ago it would have been unheard of. It never
occurred to her that Draco, being raised the way he was, with cool detachment and aloof concern the
way most affluent purebloods were raised, would be unable to recognize the same and mistake it for
lust.

By sheer instinct, Ginny's legs rose to a bent position, her thighs cradling the tense
wizard above her. She reached a hand out to lovingly touch his face, marveling at the softness of
the skin that met her hands. She felt him shift his weight as he prepared himself to enter her and
she willed her body to relax as she felt that unfamiliar object begin to prod at her opening. He
was having very little success and looked increasingly confused as he tried and tried, and still
nothing was happening.

With a curse, he summoned his wand and cast a lubricating charm on himself. Ginny closed her
eyes to prepare herself for the inevitable, her hands grabbing the headboard unconsciously. She
felt Draco raise her hips to angle her better.

Draco watched Ginny's pliant form, from the slender hands holding on to the headboard, to
the exquisite face, the bountiful breasts, the slim waist, to the auburn curls concealing her sex.
If this were any other place and time, and if he was another person, perhaps he may not be doing
this, but he was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince and resident sex God, and hater of all
Weasleys.

Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from crying out as she felt Draco's penis enter her, the
lubrication charm working like a, well, charm. No matter how she tried to relax, the pain was
making her lose her control over her body. She had expected it to be painful; after all, how many
stories had she heard from her housemates about the gore and pain involved with losing one's
virginity; she just never expected the sharp, knife-like pain that sliced through her as Draco
broke through her hymen, forever marking her as his.

Without meaning to, a sob broke through her lips when the pain persisted, mitigated by the slow
rhythm Draco had created. Thankfully, he must have heard her for he stopped, catching the lone tear
with his tongue.

“What's wrong, Gin?”

Ginny took a deep breath before opening her eyes, staring deeply into bottomless pits of gray.
“Could you just - just stop for a moment? It hurts too much and I didn't want you to think
badly of me if I passed out in the middle of - er” Ginny trailed off, looking away from him, unable
to say the word.

When Draco finally understood what was wrong, he cursed rather fluently. “Shit! Buggering fuck!
Why the hell didn't you tell me!” he demanded, careful not to move too much, not wanting to
cause her any more hurt.

“I wanted to,” she said quietly, her lips quivering, “but you didn't want to hear, and then
you started kissing me again and I couldn't think straight anymore. I'm sorry,” she
pleaded, her eyes looking at him beseechingly.

Draco silenced her the only way he knew how. By her own admission, nothing else matters when he
was kissing her, and he was ruthless enough to use the advantage she had inadvertently given him.
He was of two minds about what he had done tonight; the revelation of Ginny's virginity really
threw for a loop, but was that really enough reason for him to forget his plans for her? Could he
really just forget years of hostility for this slip of a girl? The Slytherin in him said no, but
the man behind the mask was not so sure.

“Don't, Gin,” he said quietly when he stopped his assault on her lips. “You have nothing to
be sorry for. I should be the one asking your forgiveness for being a prat and not realizing sooner
what was staring me in the face.” He gave her a crooked smile and chucked her under the chin.
“It's just hard to believe that someone as beautiful as you could stay untouched. The male
population of Gryffindor must have their heads buried so deep in their arses, or they're just
plain stupid.”

Ginny smiled shyly at him and let the slur on her house pass. She noted that the pain had
considerably lessened when she moved her hips; there was still a slight discomfort caused by the
unfamiliar fullness but it was nothing compared to her earlier pain.

“I didn't really notice if anybody was interested in me like that,” she admitted, looking at
his lips instead of his eyes. “I was interested in somebody else entirely unacceptable, somebody
from a different house.” She snuck a quick look at him to gauge his reaction to her confession
before fixing her gaze back to his lips.

Only years of constantly putting on a stoic front kept Draco from showing his surprise. She had
liked him that long? Ginny Weasley, his bat-bogey hex benefactor? If she wasn't under him now,
filled with his throbbing erection, he might scoff at the absurdity of that little tidbit. Speaking
of…

“He must be totally without a brain for not noticing you and doing something about it,” he said,
carefully watching her expression as he slowly withdrew from her welcoming heat and just as slowly
thrust back in.

Ginny's eyes flew up to meet his. “I think he's doing quite well in making up for lost
time,” she whispered as she experimentally wrapped one leg around his waist, then another,
straining to meet his thrust halfway. Unbelievable pleasure started coursing through her, but
Draco's slow pace was killing her. “Umm, Draco?”

“Yes, Gin?” he replied, his voice strained.

She blushed. “Could you move a bit, you know, faster?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, thank god,” he murmured shakily and ground himself hard against his lover's hips.

Ginny's giggle at his obvious relief ended in a gasp as Draco showed her the extent of his
need for her. She helplessly moaned as he set a furious pace, driving into her like there was no
tomorrow. She welcomed him and met him thrust for thrust, her legs tightening around his waist as
she strained against him. When she came, she could not help crying out his name, her love for this
man overwhelming everything else. She wrapped her arms around him as he strived to reach
completion, showing him that her heart and her body was his for as long as he wanted it. When he
started to come, she felt herself coming for the second time as well, joining him, their cries
filling the room. Their breathing ragged, they lay side by side on the bed, spent, and deliciously
tired.

Ginny was so blissfully tired that she could not prevent her eyes from drooping. Draco noticed
her struggle and kissed her eyes closed gently. “Sleep,” he whispered, and with a smile on her
lips, Ginny let herself fall into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

Draco watched Ginny as she snuggled against him, her face unbelievably innocent in sleep even
after what they had been up to tonight. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and stared at
her, weighing his options. He knew Ginny expected something from him after tonight, but he also
knew that tonight could never happen again. That was the plan and he had to stick to it.

When he had seen her tonight at his club, he had been floored by the vast change in her physical
appearance. If he had not heard that pouf Creevey say her name, he would never have recognized her.
Who knew the snotty brat would grow into such a vision of beauty?

He remembered the first time he had met her, during his second year at Hogwarts, at Flourish and
Blotts. She had quickly become the target of his vitriol, after her staunch defense of Saint
Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-make-his-life-hell was still at the top of his hate list, of course,
but she came a decent second. He had taunted her every chance he could get, throwing her poverty in
her face as often as the opportunity presented itself. She was as worthy an opponent as Potter,
never failing to respond to his provocations.

Over the years, he had developed quite a perverted attachment to her, his day not quite complete
if he hasn't stirred her anger at least to some degree. He even acknowledged that her hexes was
a necessary evil, something he was more than willing to receive, as long as he was able to ruin her
day.

Then seventh year came and something about her changed. She no longer responded to his jeers and
taunts, preferring instead to avoid him altogether. He had redoubled his efforts, calling her names
even his mother would admonish him for and still nothing happened. He had insulted her family,
friends and her choices of boyfriends, in that order; she still refused to respond. Despite her
prefect status, he had delighted in giving her the worst detentions in Hogwarts history; she only
did them with nary a peep. He took house points off her; she doubled her efforts at her studies to
get them back. At one point he had even considered hexing her just so he could see whether he'd
finally get a reaction from her but refrained from doing so, not wanting Dumbledore to revoke his
Head Boy badge and giving it to Potter.

Thus, he had left the hollowed halls of Hogwart's School of Wicthcraft and Wizardry
decidedly unsatisfied. He had of course asked himself more than a dozen times why he could not just
leave her alone; his stubborn streak insisted that she deserved all she got from him for being a
Weasley and a muggle-loving blood traitor. If that didn't quite ring true to the minuscule
portion within him that was honest, he quickly banished the thought. He had promised himself that
one day, she was going to get what was coming to her, and he was going to be the one to do it. Her
slight to him had become something of an obsession to him, and it demanded remuneration, maybe not
in blood, but she was going to pay.

And tonight was the perfect opportunity for him to finally extract his revenge. *Revenge for
what*, a small voice inside his head asked with a sneer. *She hasn't done anything to you
that you didn't do to her first. Are you really this petty that you're willing to hurt this
lovely girl for something that was your fault to begin with?*

Draco's jaw clenched in fury as doubts assailed him. There was no room for him to have
second thoughts, damn it! He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys finish what they've started, no matter
what it takes.

*Oh, go put a sock on it**!* That inner voice admonished. *You know you like her,
why can't you just accept the fact that you fell for a Weasley and was too afraid to admit it?
Is it really such a hardship for you to set aside your prejudices for one moment and look at this
girl, and SEE beyond her name? It's not difficult, you know, all it would take is a little
honesty.*

No! I will not let one night of passion cloud my judgment. I DO NOT like her; it was just sex,
so stop messing around with my head. I do not need some wacko in there telling me otherwise.

*You sure it was just sex?* The voice taunted. *And I happen to be your superego, my boy,
and I don't mean that literally. You certainly don't need any more help in that area,
considering it's already the size of Greenland. I'm your conscience, so you can't hide
anything from me. I may have been dormant for all of your life, but you woke me up, and I've
had all the rest I need so don't bother silencing me again, it won't work this time.
I'm here to stay. Deal with it.*

Draco flopped on top of the bed, moving away from Ginny, the balls of his hands pressing angrily
against his eyeballs. If he didn't know any better, he could swear he was going crazy. And it
was entirely this girls fault, she made him so confused!

*There you go again, barking up the wrong tree,* the voice scoffed*. Why does it
automatically become Ginny's fault once something doesn't go your way? Are we still five
here? Why was I not informed about this growth retardation?*

Enough, already! I am not changing my mind about this, he thought fiercely. The plan doesn't
change and you can give me hell about this all you want, but since you don't have a body to
speak of, I am making all the decisions from here on out. Can YOU deal with it?

The voice was quiet for so long that Draco was hoping it had finally gone away. *Fine.*
Draco groaned; no such luck.

*Fine*, the voice said resignedly, *I'll stay in the background and watch you throw
away the best thing that has ever happened to your miserable life. Like you said, I don't have
a body that can feel. But know this, boy,* the voice said seriously, *there will come a time
when you'll regret your decision tonight. Just pray that that girl over there would still be
willing to have you once the dust settles, `coz if she doesn't, I'll be forever thanking my
lucky stars it's you that has the body and not me. You're making your bed tonight; I hope
it'd give you as much satisfaction as you're certain it would.*

Draco waited a few moments, expecting THE VOICE to continue its litany, but when it didn't,
he finally sighed in relief. He really had no need of a superego or whatever the hell the voice
said it was, he had more than enough on his plate right now without having to deal with that as
well.

He turned on his side and continued watching as Ginny slept. He didn't know how long he
stayed in that position, but when she started to stir, he quickly got off the bed before she
realized he had been watching her all through her short slumber.

He picked up his discarded clothes and methodically started putting them on. He itched for a
shower, but he had to get on with what he had to do first. He sat on the foot of the bed, buttoning
his shirt, carefully keeping his back to Ginny. When he felt the bed dip behind him and arms wrap
around him, he quickly got up before Ginny could complete the action. He schooled his features to
reveal nothing before he faced her.

Ginny was sitting on the bed, looking deliciously rumpled, the sheets wrapped around her
protectively, and he felt the urge to prolong the moment a little more if that meant he could be in
her arms again. But no, he had to do this NOW.

“Hi,” Ginny said shyly, watching him fix himself up. She was sorry that she could no longer see
how magnificent he was naked, but she was sure she'd be seeing a lot more of him soon. What he
said, though, had her looking at him quickly.

“You'd better go, it's morning already,” he said dispassionately as he finished doing up
the buttons of his shirt, giving her an impersonal look.

Ginny was more than confused, she was flabbergasted. What was going on? What happened to the
Draco she had spent the night with? Who was this man who had his face and his voice and his body,
and yet was not him at all? She looked at him, not knowing what to say or do.

Draco sighed loudly before picking up her discarded dress and throwing it at her. “Go on. Get
dressed. You have to get out of here before Pansy sees you.”

Hearing what Draco said as she caught her dress felt like she had been backhanded. How could he
possibly just dismiss what happened between them?

“What's wrong, Draco? Why are you saying this to me? I don't understand.” Her voice
sounded so plaintive and weak that she hated it. She watched his eyes harden and the sneer
materialize.

“What is there to understand? We had sex, simple. Don't tell me you thought it there was
more to it than that?” An amused expression slowly replaced the sneer. “You did, didn't
you?”

Ginny cringed as he laughed, the sound cutting through her heart viciously.

“You have got to be the most deluded witch I have ever met, Weaslette. Did you honestly think
that I, a Malfoy, would ever stoop so low as to actually take a Weasley seriously? I mean, in what
alternate universe would that happen?”

Ginny felt tears prickling the back of her eyes but she refused to let them go; she could not
break down now, there was more at stake here than just her lost innocence.

“I know you felt something for me too, Draco, I know it,” she insisted. “I could see it in your
eyes. Why are you denying it now?”

Draco lost his mirth, and a cold look came to his eyes. “You saw what you wanted to see, little
Ginny,” he said scathingly, “not what was there. You wanted to believe it so much that you put a
nice name to what was really there: lust. Don't look to me for salvation when it was you who
caused your fall.” He turned his back on her as the first tear started to fall.

Ginny swiped furiously at the tears that would not stop coming. He was right, of course, all of
it. All of this was her fault. She may have been so blinded by her love that somehow she had
projected the feelings on to him and mistook that as his sentiment for her. She had wanted it so
much that she did not, even once, stop to think whether any of it was real. He was right.

She started to dress with more calm than was in her at the moment, thankful that the tears had
finally stopped. She was calling herself ten kinds of a fool to ever think that Draco Malfoy could
ever love her. She should have known all along that she was just another shag in his book, another
notch on his bed post.

Grooming herself as best she could, she turned and picked her wand up from the floor. She knew
she'd have to use the floo to get out of there and she'd have to talk to him to ask him for
some floo powder.

“I need to borrow some floo powder,” she stated hollowly, not looking at Draco as she spoke.

“By the fireplace,” was his only reply.

She strode to the huge fireplace and started a fire. She made to scoop a handful of the powder
but then decided that she could not leave this as it was and turned around to face him again.
“There's one more thing before I go,” she said and started for him. His bored look was the last
straw and Ginny's hand struck before she could think twice about it. He could only stare at her
as she heaved a shaky breath, her back rigid. “I could have loved you so much, Malfoy, but now I
see that I'll only be wasting my time.” Tears were once again coursing down her cheeks.
“You're right, I am a sorry excuse of a witch for making the mistake of loving you, but you
know what? I don't care! At least I know how to love. Can you say the same?” She went back to
the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of floo powder. “I pity you Malfoy. There's not enough
galleons in the world to buy you a heart.” She threw the powder into the fire without breaking eye
contact with him. “Don't you ever come near me again or I swear to Merlin you'll be the
last one in your line.”

The threat of castration only made Draco Malfoy smile. “With pleasure, Weaslette.” But inwardly,
Draco winced. And it didn't help matters that the voice reared its ugly head again.

*How's that bed now, boy?*

Ginny kept her face from showing just how much he had hurt and broken her. She called out `Dana
Shaw's flat' and stepped into the fire. The last thing she saw before the fire swirled
around her was Draco's back as he left his bedroom, creating even more distance between them.
But now, Ginny feared that distance may very well be the least of her problems; the events of last
night has erected a solid barrier that she didn't think would ever be torn down again.

As she stepped out of Dana's fireplace, she went directly to the bathroom, stripping as she
progressed. She knew the apartment was deserted as surely as she knew that Dana had spent the night
elsewhere. She had often criticized her friend for being so free with her body, but now she was
glad for the solitude it afforded her.

She stepped under the shower and turned the dial on full blast. The sharp stinging of the water
as it touched her skin was largely ignored. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, leaving her skin pink
with the savagery of her scrubbing, almost as though thinking that if she did it hard enough, it
could wash away the memory of Draco's touch. But she knew it would take more than a simple
cleansing shower to erase that memory, and that even if she crawled out of her skin, she would
never be rid of the mark he had etched into her very soul. Somehow, she knew she'd never be the
same again, as though last night had started a chain of events that she had no power of stopping.
She only hoped her family would never find out that Ginevra Weasley had struck again, and that this
time, she had gone in with both eyes open.

And then finally, when it all became too much, she cried.

---------------------

A/N: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, and those who haven't, well, thanks for
reading my fiction anyway. I never get enough at how so many seem to like this story. I don't
have a lot to say usually, so if I don't make a habit of answering questions on the review
boards, I don't mean to offend.

**Sailor Universe**: Funny guess, but as you've probably already read by now, the
answer's no. Keep on guessing though, you never know, you might just hit one one of these
days.

**V. Crowe:** Yes, you probably have read this before. I am posting this story on another D/G
website, but I won't say which one (harharhar!!!) That one has the very latest chapter, but the
format here at Portkey is better than that one. I get to show all the italics here, whereas I'm
still trying to figure out how to do that over at the other site. Trust me, you're better off
reading this story here than over there.

To all the others who reviewed, thank you again. This is just a warning to those who hate
cliffhangers. My readers have often figuratively thrown fits at me, accusing me of being an evil
witch, what with my cliffhanger chapters and all, but I never set out to do that, it just seem to
come out that way. And I am trying to pace my chapters posting here, especially as I am currently
working on chapter 18, and the end is still not anywhere in sight. So if it sometimes takes days
before I post a new one, don't write me off. Please? I assure you will not regret it.

-->



5. Shattered
------------



Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is responsible for the Harry Potter world, I'm just borrowing some
of her characters.

**Chapter 5: Shattered**

Ginny didn't know how long she had stayed in the shower, crying her heart out, and in truth,
she didn't really care. She had only gone out when she thought she had shed her last tear,
padding dripping wet and naked on the tiled floor. But as soon as she had put on her bathrobe, she
broke down again, curling into a fetal position and weeping for all her broken dreams and
illusions.

This was how Colin found her, and the sight terrified him so much that all he could do for a few
precious minutes was look at her and listen to the heart wrenching sobs that wracked her body.
Never before had he seen her this miserable and he wondered what could have happened between last
night and this morning to bring her to this sorry state.

Finally, unable to stand there and do nothing for much longer, he rushed to the side of his
friend, taking her into his arms and rocking her soothingly, all the while murmuring nonsensical
things in her ear to help her calm down. She had stiffened at first when he had touched her, but
when she heard his familiar voice, she burrowed into his arms and took refuge in the comfort of his
embrace.

When the storm looked to have abated for the moment, Colin ventured to ask what had brought
about her grief.

“Gin, can you tell me what's going on? Did something happen? Is it your family?”

Ginny kept her cheeks pressed against Colin's chest, the beating of his heart soothing her
troubled spirit. Sitting on his lap like this, his arms around her, gave her such a safe feeling,
as though nothing could ever hurt her. It wasn't true outside of it, of course, but she'd
take what she could get. She didn't answer him for a long time, afraid that if she started to
speak of what happened, she'd end up a weeping mess again.

Colin didn't press her for a response. He knew Ginny would tell him when she was good and
ready and not a minute before. He was glad she had calmed down some, though; he was embarrassed to
admit it, but he would take a furious Ginny any day over a miserable one. She wasn't aware of
it, but he considered their relationship a form of symbiosis; she might think he was the giver in
their relationship, but her friendship was what gave him the strength to be the person he was now.
Without her support and unquestioning acceptance of what he was, he doubted if he would be where he
was today. And so, he was at a loss; he wanted so much to help her deal with what it was that was
eating away at her, but he could do nothing until she confided in him.

But when Ginny finally started relating what happened after he had left her at the Snake Pit, an
overwhelming sense of guilt hit him the likes of which left him reeling in self-directed anger. He
was horrified at his culpability and the noose of guilt was slowly closing in around his neck. It
was no use going into the `if only' routines, but his helplessness was so complete that he was
paralyzed by it.

As he listened to her speak of how that scum had treated her, he wanted to search him out and
cut him into little pieces. Never mind that Malfoy would probably do worse damage to him than he
could ever hope to visit on him; that piece of filth had the audacity to lay his hands on his best
friend and for that he has to suffer immeasurable pain! But when he broke her heart, that merited
him the death penalty.

Colin's hold on Ginny tightened unconsciously, but she didn't complain. Here in
Colin's arms, she could pretend for a while that everything was all right; here in his arms
there would be no judgment, no recriminations. But what she could not stop from torturing her was
the shame she felt every time she remembered Draco's sneering face; and worst of all, after
everything that was said and done, she was honest enough to admit that nothing had changed, she
still loved him.

“Why can't he get past my name Colin?” she asked quietly. “Am I really that hard to love?
What's wrong with me that the man I love looks at me and sees not a person, but a name.” She
swiped an arm across her eyes, uncaring if the action were akin to a child. “I don't understand
why who our families are should dictate what we should be, how we should act.” She pulled away
slightly, and looked up at her friend. “Why we should have to live with what is expected of us and
not what we want. Why?”

Colin didn't know how to answer her, he didn't even know if there was an answer to what
she was asking. Following convention was not what Ginny Weasley was all about, he knew that; if she
was at all conventional she wouldn't have gone and fallen in love with a Malfoy. Had there been
a Weasley family rule book, that would have been rule number 1, of that he was sure of.

“I don't know, Gin,” he finally answered, sympathy in his eyes as he looked at her sad face.
His own twisted in a slight grimace. “You don't need to hear what I have to say, you probably
already know them, and you won't hear me say I told you so, I love you too much for that. What
I do know is that we can't always choose who we fall in love with, no matter how we try;
neither can we force another to return our feelings however hard we wish we could.” He managed a
slight smile at her as he wiped a solitary tear that slowly trekked down her cheek. “There's
this muggle song that I used to listen to when I was alone, before I came out of `The Closet',”
he said softly, almost wistfully. “It was actually one of my mother's favorites, and it
basically says that if you love a person, truly love that person, then you won't want him to
change. You didn't fall in love with him expecting him to be another person right? You loved
him the way he was, not the way he ought to be just because it satisfies your fantasy of what the
ideal man should be.” He carefully pushed Ginny to sit in front of him, tilting her head up to meet
his eyes. “Falling in love is not always easy Gin, it's full of hardships and pain and
disillusionment. Little girls with fantasies of the perfect Prince Charming grow up and sometimes
have to realize that their princes' armors are dented and made of brass; there's no perfect
man, all of them come with their baggage and it's up to you to try and live with it. And I
truly envy you for not taking the easy road and settling with what is comfortable,” he said
fiercely, squeezing her arms to emphasize his point. “You knew it wasn't going to be easy, and
yet you took a chance and that's what life's ultimately all about: taking chances. Yes, you
may get disappointed some of the time, but it's an opportunity for you to pick yourself up and
learn from your mistakes. It's a vicious cycle, but it's also worth the effort.”

Ginny's lip trembled. “But it hurts so much Colin,” she said, brokenly. “Why does it have to
hurt so much? I was so sure he felt the same way about me, I could see it in his eyes. What was he
so afraid of?” She shook her head dejectedly. “I don't know if I could do this alone, and you
know what's worse? I still love him! When I should be feeling anger for what he put me through,
instead all I feel is how empty I am inside, how incomplete I am that he didn't feel the same
way. What does that make me?” she asked angrily.

“A woman in love,” Colin replied simply. “And you're not alone in this, I'll always be
here for you. There's nothing you can do that will make me go away, do you hear me? Nothing,”
he said fiercely before sighing. He took her hands in his and absentmindedly started rubbing them.
“I can't believe I'm saying this, but have you ever thought that maybe, Malfoy doesn't
know what it is he feels for you?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Don't get me wrong, I'm
still going to bloody well try my best to hex his balls off when I see him, but he IS a Malfoy.
They're not exactly the poster family for love and affection, you know.”

Ginny snorted. “I heard him pretty well when he told me he lusted after me, Colin, but that I
was an idiot for mistaking it for love. I don't think there was any other room for
interpretation rather than the obvious, don't you think?”

Colin folded his legs under him and shook her hands for emphasis. “No, listen,” Colin said
urgently. “Don't you remember from before, when you used to use him for target practice? You
said that ferret face probably only bothered you so much `coz he was sorely lacking in attention?
Remember? We used to laugh thinking that Malfoy was the way he was because he was taught manners
and right conduct by trolls and elves.” Colin looked at her intently. “What if that were truly the
case? What if he grew up not knowing what the basic human emotions were because there wasn't
anybody there to show it to him? I mean you said it yourself,” he said excitedly, “you thought you
saw something in his eyes, but then he refused to admit to the possibility that you were right.
Maybe he wasn't really afraid, just confused.”

Ginny groaned and got off the bed, tightening the belt around her robe. “We're not in
Hogwarts anymore, Colin. It was quite fun playing the `What ifs' game then, but this is real
life now.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the post of the bed. “And much as the thought was
funny then, I think that's all it was. Somehow, the idea of the Malfoy heir left in the care of
non-wizards doesn't quite ring true anymore.”

“I don't know,” Colin said thoughtfully, “but there's something about him that just
leaves me with more questions than answers.”

Ginny shook her head at the far away look in her friend's eyes. For a short while he had
been able to take her mind off the pain and she was thankful for that. But she knew he was shooting
for the moon, and she was too hurt now to consider that there night be something to his theory. She
turned and picked up the mess she had left on the floor, placing it carefully on the bed.

“You can go on speculating, Colin,” she said as she picked up the bag she had brought with her
last night. “But I'm going to change now and try to get all this behind me. Dwelling on what
might be to what really is, is just not high on my priority list right now.” She closed the
bathroom door behind her and proceeded to get dressed. When she got back inside, Colin was already
off the bed and waiting for her by the side of the bathroom, a pensive look still on his face. He
immediately straightened when she emerged, giving her a penetrating look.

She looked much better, but he knew from years of friendship that Ginny was a great actress; if
she didn't want you to know something, she'd bite her tongue off first and give a
performance worthy of a West End Broadway actress with a multimillion production riding on her back
before opening her mouth. You had to know where to look in order for you to be able to guess
accurately as to her state of mind.

“Are you going to be okay now?” he asked gently when he failed to see any sign of depression or
some such rut on her face.

She shrugged. “I will be, eventually; it's not like I have a choice in the matter anyway.
It's still too early to tell how long it'll take for me to get over what happened. Or if
I'll be able to.”

Colin nodded in understanding. “What do you intend to do now? Do you have a plan?”

“No,” she said flatly. “At the moment, not thinking about anything seems like a very good idea,
and since planning involves a lot of thinking, I'll refrain from the exercise for now. Maybe by
not doing that, I'll stop beating myself over the head for being an idiot.”

Colin shook his head. “Never an idiot, hon, just a case of temporary insanity. There's a
difference,” he said seriously, nodding his head emphatically when Ginny gave him a dirty glare and
draped an arm across her shoulders, steering her out of the room. “At least you'll have
Medi-Witch training to look forward to. That should keep you so occupied you'll wonder why you
were complaining of a broken heart when you're in serious jeopardy of dying via extreme
boredom,” he stated, trying to keep a straight face when Ginny grimaced.

“Not helping, Colin,” she said resignedly, shaking off his arms, irritated.

“Oh, c'mon. Think of Medi-Witch training this way: with your brains, you're in a perfect
position to invent your very own curses, and don't bother coming up with the counter curses by
the way. Then when it's ready, you just test it on your personal guinea pig. I can just imagine
Malfoy's face when he has no recourse but to come to you for help and you tell him, `I love
you, Draco, but no'. Brill, no?”

“Criminal, more like,” Ginny retorted, smiling bemusedly. “I swear, Colin, every day you give me
a new reason to question why I'm such good friends with you. You go from one extreme to the
next that I just can't keep up with you. If I ever had a mind to take one of your brilliant
suggestions before, I would have either been a permanent resident of Azkaban by now or the Ministry
would have chucked me out of the Wizarding world long ago.”

Colin grinned winningly. “But you have to admit, as far as ideas go, that was a great one right?
If only the MLE's weren't such a stickler for the rules.”

Ginny's eyes twinkled, the first sign Colin saw of the old Ginny resurfacing. “Why don't
you ask Harry to turn a blind eye just this once? If you could convince him…” Ginny let the thought
hang, knowing that Colin was going to be preoccupied with thoughts of the Boy-Who-Lived.

And Colin didn't disappoint when a wistful look appeared on his face. “Yeah. Harry,” he said
breathily, a small smile hovering on the side of his lips.

Ginny laughed, marveling at the lightness the simple act brought to her heart. “You're
impossible! I can't believe you still haven't given up on Harry yet. After all this
time?”

Colin tapped her nose affectionately as they entered Dana's living room. Hearing Ginny laugh
was a good sign and even if laughing at his expense was what brought it on, he'd gladly play
the comic for her to keep her in this mood.

“Not while I have breath in me, hon. There's always hope. You never know, Harry could
suddenly give up heterosexuality and I want to be first in line when he does.”

“You dolt!” she said, chuckling. “Harry and Mione are practically married already! And believe
me Colin, Harry may not be homophobic but he is the last person on earth who will sign up for
membership in your league.”

Ginny's eyes were twinkling so mischievously that Collin was immediately suspicious. She had
that I-know-something-you-don't look and he wanted to know what that was. Badly.

“What are you keeping from me, Ginevra Weasley? I don't trust you when you have THAT
look.”

Ginny's lips curled devilishly. “Let's just say I saw more than I should have that last
night of 5th year. Have you never wondered, even once, why Hermione dated Blaise Zabini
her 7th year, and why she got into that huge row with Harry about it?”

“Of course, me and the rest of Gryffindor house could do nothing but wonder for a long time
afterwards. Harry did practically blow up the whole common room. But you knew the reason behind the
whole drama apparently.”

Ginny nodded. “That was when they got together, which was how it should have been from the
beginning if Harry hadn't been so thick. He almost lost Hermione that night. Lucky for him
he's such a sneaky bastard.”

“Now you've really got me intrigued,” Colin declared.

“You should be, it's quite a story. Maybe one day I'll tell you all of it, but right now
I need to get home or Mum's gonna have my hide for breakfast.”

“Tease,” Colin grumbled as he took out his wand and prepared to disapparate.

“Moi? Never!” She grinned cheekily. “See you Colin.” And with a pop, she was gone.

Colin stared at the spot where his friend used to be, a relieved smile on his face. “I'll
have you back, Gin, I promise,” he said softly to the empty room before he, too, disapparated.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“I can't believe it's been a month!” Ginny said wonderingly as she draped an arm lazily
over the lounge, enjoying her one day off in two weeks. Healer training was a lot of work and
didn't leave much time for dilly dallying with friends; in fact, it didn't leave much time
for anything but work and more work. When this break in an otherwise monotonous schedule opened up
for her, she had immediately corralled Colin into lazing the whole day away. With the weather being
very agreeable, they had decided to take advantage of probably only one of the few days that
remained before the cold set in by lounging in their patio with drinks in hand instead of in the
confines of their four-walled flat.

Two weeks after Ginny started healer training, she had convinced her mother of the practicality
of having her own place, and before Molly Weasley could change her mind, she and Colin had found
and rented a flat. It was quite modest in size but it suited both their needs; they could have
gotten a much bigger and better place, but it would have been quite difficult for either of them to
explain how they could afford to keep such a place.

“I know what you mean,” Colin agreed, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. “I can't believe
how crazy this month's been. Meetings here, negotiating contracts there. I've been so busy
I've hardly had the time to do much socializing.”

“You're one to talk! I have Medi-Witch training and all the free time I have is few and far
between. And then suddenly there you are, taking up those precious time away from me. You
haven't given me a minute to myself in the past three weeks. You even time me whenever I have
to go to the loo.” She picked up her own drink, a cherry soda, and took a healthy sip from it. “I
can't decide whether you're trying to get rid of me by working me to an early grave, or
you've always been this way and I've only now just noticed it.”

Colin stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles together. “Definitely the
latter; it wouldn't do me any good to kill you, you're much too useful to me alive.”

“I'm touched by the depths of your love for me Colin, I truly am,” she said
sarcastically.

“Don't mention it, luv,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm and smiling at her benignly. “But I
have to say, you do look a bit worn out around the edges. Been sleeping much?”

Ginny sighed and leaned her head back against the lounge. “I know you know the answer to that,
Colin.”

“Is it still that bad?”

She shook her head. She truly appreciated Colin's support in the past weeks. She had been
plagued with nightmares several nights after her harrowing experience and Colin had been true to
his word: he never left her side during the more difficult episodes, his arms her only haven. Most
nights she would wake up crying and he was there to whisper soothing words to her; sometimes he
would just hold her in his arms til she fell asleep again. The dreams were no longer as frequent
nor as vivid as that first week, but they still bothered her occasionally.

“Not so much now, no, only when I come across something about him in the papers. Then I turn
into a human waterfall. Disgusting really, when you try to look at it.” She eased her shoulders off
a bit where it rested. “Which, personally, I really believe I'm starting to slowly get control
of. The thing is, I just feel so tired all the time. I don't know if it's the training
that's draining me or something else entirely unrelated. It can't be the lack of sleep
though, I've had worse cases of insomnia before but I always managed to stay in top form. Now
I'm struggling just to get through a day.”

Colin looked at her worriedly. “Maybe it would be a good idea if you took some time off from
healer training. It won't be hard for you to make up for any loss of time, and with the
week's break you have til you're next session with me, that should give you enough time to
rest up and recharge.”

“I don't know if it's possible to take a break from healer training just because I'm
tired, Colin,” she said wryly, “stress and time management is supposed to be an integral part of
the training process.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You're deluding yourself if you think it's all a case
of tiredness. You're not just tired, you're exhausted! What good would it do you to be
burnt out before the grind could even truly begin. It doesn't make sense to me.”

“I know, but we'll see,” she said resignedly.

Colin wanted to argue his point some more but seeing how truly weary looking his friend was, he
reigned in his tongue for the moment. She didn't need him harping on about the matter
needlessly. Drawing in a calming breath, he tried for a less contentious topic.

“Will all your brood be attending the Ministry Gala tonight?” Colin could clearly see
Ginny's whole body tense up at his question and his brow rose questioningly. “Please don't
tell me you forgot about the party?”

“I - didn't?”

In truth, Ginny had forgotten. With all the turmoil her life had been plunged into in the past
five weeks, a political party that will set the tone for the next Ministerial election just
didn't seem all that important to her. Sure, her father had wanted them all to be there, but
surely missing one party among the many that were soon to come won't mean all that much. When
she said as much to Colin, she got another incredulous look.

“Are you kidding me? There's no way you could possibly really believe such tripe Gin,” Colin
declared hotly. “They want your father to be the next Minister of Magic, of course this party
MATTERS. What would it look like if even one of his children is missing on the most important night
of his life? Not good, I tell you, not good.”

“I'm sure you're exaggerating, Colin,” she said, trying to keep the anxiety from
creeping into her voice. “And that's another thing; I have it on good authority that Dad
doesn't want to run for public office. He never wanted to.”

“What he wants no longer matter Gin, nor was it ever an issue,” Colin persisted, “the people
wants him and he'll have no choice but to take up the gauntlet. I know your father, he's
not one to shirk what he perceives as his duty.”

Ginny relented. “I guess you're right, I just really hate seeing him being forced to do
something he's not yet ready nor willing to face. I know he'll do a good job if he becomes
Minister, but we had hoped to wait just a few more years before he has to parent the entire
wizarding world.”

“Nevertheless, you have to be there.” He looked at her gravely. “It's a good thing I took
the liberty of picking up the dress you'll be wearing, or I'd be dragging you to that party
with a sackcloth over your head.”

“You're all heart Colin,” Ginny said giggling, “whatever would I do without you.”

“I shudder just thinking about it so I don't,” he kidded.

“Seriously though,” she said, sobering up right away. “I really hope something will happen
that'll derail the political plans for Dad a bit longer. I want him to take time out for
himself, not go into another form of battle so soon after the last real one.”

As Colin nodded his assent and they lapsed into companionable silence, Ginny didn't know
just how prophetic her words were.

-----------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks to my beta, btw, she's very accommodating and my no. 1 fan. She's also crazy
about Lucius Malfoy, and there is absolutely no reason why I just said that. Anyway, thank you all
for reviewing. It warms my heart to know that you love this story as much as I do. It's a pain
in the arse writing, but I can't stop, so. Hope you enjoyed reading this, and if you're not
too tired reading, kindly leave me my regular fix and review. Tata!!

-->



6. Discoveries
--------------



**Chapter 6: Discoveries**

“Gin, I'm missing one shoe. Could you help me find it, please?”

Ginny rolled her eyes as she stepped into a pair of black high heels. It was always the same
with Colin whenever they had to go out, she always ended up helping him locate either an item of
clothing or an accessory. Why he couldn't seem to remember that he was a full-grown and trained
wizard with a wand was beyond her understanding.

Picking up her purse and wand, she took one final sideways look at her reflection and nodded in
satisfaction before stepping out of her room to help out her hapless friend. She found him in his
room, arse sticking up in the air, head lost under his unmade bed as he groped around under it for
the errant shoe.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Ginny stuck her wand out. “Accio Colin's missing shoe!” She
caught three flying objects adeptly as it shot out of the mess that was his closet, dropping her
purse in the process. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Colin to emerge. She smiled
ruefully when she heard a muffled curse issue from under the bed, followed by a disgruntled looking
Colin.

“Damn stupid bed,” he mumbled, gingerly rubbing his abused head, looking balefully at the
offending furniture. “Curse whoever thought of making bed frames so hard.”

Ginny gaped at him. That was by far the silliest comment she had ever heard come from
anybody's mouth.

“By any chance, did your mum drop you on your head one too many times when you were a baby,
Colin? Coz you're nuts! You seriously need your head examined.” She looked at his once pristine
black suit which was now wrinkled and dusty and shook her head in disgust. She did a quick cleaning
charm, once again marveling at the amount of mess he could get into with so very little effort.

“Thanks!” He beamed at her once he was clean again and chose the correct shoe from the choices
Ginny held and proceeded to put it on.

“Honestly Colin! How many times do I have to tell you to clean your room? Even a snake would be
terrified to venture into this uncharted terrain you call a bedroom. And look at your closet!” She
walked over and threw open the doors of the appliance. “No wonder you couldn't find anything in
here! I myself would have a hard time looking for Hogsmeade with all the mess you've collected
here. Look!” She held up a moldy looking plastic with questionable contents. “What did you intend
on doing with this? Culture a new strain of fungus?”

Colin smiled sheepishly at her. “That was actually my lunch. A week ago.” He stifled a laugh
when Ginny dropped the bag with a horrified `ewww!'. “I just haven't had the time to start
cleaning. I'll get on it once my load lightens a bit, I promise.”

Ginny knew she was being a nag, but she didn't care. “Are you a wizard or not?” she
demanded. “Did you not study seven years of magic for the express purpose of using it for any
activity you are too lazy to do manually? Just banish all of this junk and be done with it. I know
you're too lazy to do it the long way.”

“I can't,” he answered, “I might accidentally throw away some things I might still be able
to use. I have to sort all of that out first before I can start getting rid of anything.”

“Sometimes, I question how you can be an artist. You're a mess. Literally.”

“Mess is art,” he stated righteously, raising his brows at her challengingly. “It's called
artistic clutter.”

Ginny's own brow countered his challenge. “A week old lunch is art? In what dimension would
that be?”

“No,” he answered seriously, “that's called artistic oversight. It means the artist had too
much creative thoughts in his head, he forgot to eat his lunch. Look it up. It's in a manual
every good artist should possess.”

Ginny snorted and marched out of his room after picking up her purse, carefully navigating
around his clutter. “Next you'll be telling me I have to brave through your closet to find this
manual. Nutters! That's what you are!” she declared. “And get your sorry arse ready already,
we're running late. I'll sic mum on you if you make me late.”

Colin was right on her heel before she could finish her threat of setting Mrs. Weasley on him.
Evil bint! She knew he was terrified of her mother and she delighted in hanging that indelicate
fact over his head.

“That got you moving, didn't it?” Ginny goaded, amused at Colin's speed.

“I should have left you with the sackcloth, maybe you won't be such a harpy when you know
you don't look good.” He pointedly glared at the dress he had chosen for her to wear tonight, a
black strapless affair with a diagonal spaghetti strap cutting across one shoulder. He had swooned
when he saw it displayed at Martinique and knew right away that Ginny would be perfect in it. The
price had been a staggering 1500 galleons, but it was worth every sickle he had spent on it. His
friend was looking spectacular.

Ginny smiled prettily at him, pirouetting before him slowly, letting him see the full effect of
the gown. “You like?”

“You know I like,” he pouted. “You also know that if I could get away with it, I'd be
wearing that dress and not you so quit trying to dazzle me, I'm not interested.”

Ginny laughed gleefully. “Don't I know it,” she said in between laughs. “Too bad you
can't or we'd be swapping wardrobes by now.” Still laughing, she raised her wand.
“Ready?”

Colin nodded and Ginny disapparated. He followed immediately, and appeared by her side in a
sparsely populated hallway. She immediately took his arms and they walked side by side, smiling and
nodding at people they knew as they neared the double doors behind which lay the future of the
Weasley patriarch.

The attendant quickly checked their name from the guest list and with a flourish, indicated for
them to go on in.

Ginny was amused by all the pomp and ceremony; if this was how the upper crust of the wizarding
society was being treated, no wonder they tended to look down on those that were not swimming in
excess galleons.

Once they were through the doors, she discreetly moved her eyes over the crowd already half
filling the gigantic ballroom, looking for the familiar heads of red hair. When she found her
quarry, she tugged on Colin's arm and dragged him over to where her brothers were gathered
together, trying to fit in with their smart custom suits and bow ties. She mentally chased away the
thought that they looked like overdressed penguins, the same thought that made her want to laugh
her head off at their discomfort. They were her brothers after all and there was plenty of time for
that afterwards.

She beamed at each of them when she reached their sides, giving each brother a thorough once
over, making them squirm on their feet. Mission accomplished, she thought wickedly.

“My, don't we look quite dashing tonight? Who would've thought my brothers would clean
up so nicely?” Her eyes lingered on Ron, who was so red in the face he was in danger of
spontaneously combusting.

Bill laughed at his little sister's teasing. “You don't look half bad yourself, squirt.
If you'd been with anyone rather than Colin, the fellow better start worrying.” He gave Colin a
menacing grin. “She IS with you, right?”

Colin nodded frantically. Among all of Ginny's brothers, it was Bill that gave him the
creeps. He was tall, very tall. AND very wide. The personification of a bad boy, he was every girls
fantasy between the ages of 10 and 80. The very first of the Weasley's to ever become Head Boy,
he had heard whispered innuendos that he took his responsibility seriously. And literally. The
literal part was dubious to Colin; how could this red headed giant Adonis play the valiant
protector if he was a villain himself that had ruined many a lady's virtue? *And only fright
could make you wax lyrical, snap out of it Creevey!* he scolded himself silently.

“Yes, Bill, er, William, er - Ginny and I came together and I'm not letting her out of my
sight.” Colin knew he was babbling but he could not stop himself.

Ginny smacked her brother on the arm. “You stop that, Bill, before Colin has an accident and
wets his pants. Or swallows his tongue. I've seen it happen and it's not a pretty sight.”
Colin glared at Ginny as all six brothers turned to look at him, then at his pants, with raised
brows, waiting for the aforementioned event. The pretty red head only smiled at him innocently.

“Thanks a lot, Gin, you're such a boost for my confidence,” he gritted, his teeth grinding
in annoyance. “I think I'll just go drown my shame in firewhiskey.”

“Do be a good boy and stick to plain whiskey, Colin. I do so hate having you so drunk that I
have to undress you myself.” She beamed at him. “I almost broke my back last time, you know.”

Colin moved so fast Ginny blinked in surprise; he was already across the room and away from the
physical threat in the form of six male Weasleys before she could say she was kidding.

“Heh. Would you look at him scurry away like that? Faster than a speeding snitch, that is.” She
turned to look back at her brothers and flashed them her beguiling, little girl smile, the one that
always got her off the hook without fail. It wasn't working this time.

“Undress him, did you?” Ron said dangerously, his eyes flashing malevolently.

“Oh, that,” she dismissed airily, “it was just that one time, when he had one too many glasses
of firewhiskey. I couldn't very well leave him fully clothed, seeing as he was wearing half the
bottle of the firewhiskey he was drinking. It was no big deal. I didn't even see his bits.”

Ron sputtered as his mouth flapped open then close again like a fish. Charlie took pity on him
and smacked him upside the head, cutting off his undignified look.

“Oh look, there's Luna.” Ginny was grateful for the appearance of the other woman, at least
she was spared from trying to come up with an explanation that would not leave her chained to her
brother's sides.

As Ron turned to greet his girlfriend who, for once, decided to forego with the traditional
butterbeer cap necklace, she linked arms with Bill and subtly maneuvered him away from their other
brothers.

“How's Dad, Bill?”

The question was so loaded with meaning that Bill didn't know where to begin. “Fine, I
guess, at least now he's more or less accepted the preeminent appointment. Mum hasn't said
a word about the whole thing; I think she's waiting for Dad to decide before she gives him her
opinion. She probably realizes Dad already has enough stress to deal with at work without her
adding into all his pile of shit.”

Ginny nodded in understanding. “So it's official then?”

Bill shook his head. “Not yet, no, but the wind is blowing mightily in that direction. From what
I could gather, there's no one else being groomed for the position. You might have to practice
how to be a Minister's daughter any day now. Champagne?”

Ginny shook her head. They had reached the open bar as they were talking, and Bill asked the bar
attendant for his order. “Just gin and tonic, please,” she ordered. She shrugged when Bill threw
her a strange look. “My history with alcohol is not something I'm particularly proud of, so
don't ask.”

Bill let her comment pass; he had been away for far too long that there were bound to be some
things he would not be privy to. They proceeded to a secluded corner of the ballroom once they had
their drinks and quietly contemplated the crowd around them.

The guest list for tonight's soiree was impressive to say the least. From the wealthiest
pureblood families with galleons that would make your head spin, to the heroes of the recent war be
they muggle-borns, half-bloods or half-breeds. For the first time in wizarding history, the basis
of invitation to a heavily political gathering was not based solely on the influence of money but
on the magnitude of every individual's contribution to the cause for the new regime. There were
still divisions among purebloods and the rest of the wizarding population, but it was not as
fiercely debated as before.

Bill tipped his head towards a couple across the room from them. “It's funny how everything
comes full circle. If someone were to tell me three years ago that my family would be in the same
room with them with no hexes flying, I would have told the fellow to go take a flying leap from a
feroplane.”

Ginny smiled. “Airplane, Bill, not feroplane,” she corrected him then sipped at her drink before
turning to look at who he was talking about, then promptly started choking.

Bill gently tapped her on the back, moving to cover her as she tried to get control of her
coughing fit. Ginny gratefully accepted the handkerchief her brother handed her, dabbing at the
tears in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Bill asked, looking at her with concern.

“I'm fine, I was just surprised.” She looked over her brother's shoulder then docked
quickly.

“What are you doing?” Bill asked, amused by her antics. “Why are you hiding? Or should I say who
from?” He looked over his shoulders to try to locate the source of his sister's odd behavior.
The only one he could see looking in their direction was Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny knew her brother was a very smart man, and if she wasn't careful, he'd be able to
piece together the pieces of a puzzle to a picture she didn't want him seeing.

“You know I've never really learned to get over my fear of Lucius Malfoy,” Ginny lied,
willing her eyes to look innocent. “After the events of my first year, you can't blame me for
being wary of him.” She knew she was laying it on a bit thick, but she couldn't take a chance
on Bill doubting her honesty right now. She knew she had gotten away with it when understanding
dawned in his eyes, and her relief was immediate.

“I understand why you fear him, Gin, but it would do you a world of good if you try to put what
happened in the past behind you.” Bill looked over his shoulders again. “Much as it pains me to say
this, he's not quite the monster we thought he was.” He gave his sister a teasing look. “But
don't get too chummy with him either, he's still a Malfoy.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. “As if.” She carefully avoided looking in the direction of
the elder Malfoy's; she had a feeling that Lucius was still looking at her. “I have to go ask
Colin about something,” she said, nodding in the direction of the blond who was animatedly talking
to Neville Longbottom, “and rescue Neville before he accidentally gouges an eye out. See you
later?” She kissed him affectionately on the cheek before she started for her friend, taking the
long way to get there in her effort to avoid the Malfoys.

As she neared the two wizards, she could not help but smile at the trapped look in Neville's
eyes. The poor man probably had no clue what he was getting into talking to Colin, she thought. She
took pity on him and tapped Colin on the shoulders, effectively cutting off his monologue.

“I've been looking for you everywhere,” she interrupted smoothly, flashing a smile that
didn't quite reach her eyes to Neville before looking at Colin meaningfully. When she was sure
that he understood that she wanted to have a serious talk, she looked back at Neville. “Do be a
sweetheart and get me a refill, will you, Nev? I'm feeling quite parched.”

Neville knew he had just been given a reprieve; since the glass Ginny was holding out to him was
more than three quarters full, he knew Ginny had just given him the excuse to hightail it out of
there.

“Sure thing, Gin,” and he was off, holding her glass as reverently as he would the Holy
Grail.

As soon as Ginny was sure they were alone, or as alone as they could be inside a packed
ballroom, she quickly maneuvered Colin to stand partially concealing her.

“What's the matter, Gin? Why are you looking so frantic?”

“Don't be obvious, but Malfoy alert at 7 o'clock,” she said quietly, barely moving her
lips.

Colin nonchalantly turned and looked in passing at the direction she had indicated. When he saw
that it was the wrong Malfoy standing there, he raised a brow at her questioningly.

“Unless I have suddenly lost my perfect vision, I see Lucius Malfoy standing there,
*Lucius.* Wrong man, Gin,” he stated quietly.

“I know it's Lucius, Colin, I'm not blind!” she hissed in frustration. “Which is why
I'm wholly creeped out!”

“Why?” he asked, confused. She had never been afraid of Lucius, even after the diary incident;
she went through a whole passel of emotion, but fear was never one of them. Now, she looked like
she was ready to jump out of her skin. “He's just looking at you.”

“Exactly!” she said, grabbing his arms anxiously. “He's been looking at me all evening!
Every time I turn, I see his eyes trained on me. Why is he looking at me? It can't be because
there's something on my face or Bill would have alerted me to it by now.” She sneaked a glance
at the offending wizard and proved her point: he was still staring at her and he wasn't even
trying to be discreet about it. An entirely unpleasant thought flashed in her mind and her eyes
rounded in dismay at Colin. “You don't think he knows, do you?”

“Knows what?” Colin asked, confused by Ginny's question.

“About what happened between me and his son, idiot!” She slapped his arm for emphasis. “Focus,
will you?”

Colin shook his head. The idea was ludicrous. “I don't think father and son stay up late at
night discussing their sexual exploits, Gin, at least *that* particular father and son.”

“How do you know they don't? Don't you and your father talk about such things?”

“No!” he denied vehemently, and rather loudly too. “You have a sick, sick mind Ginevra Weasley!”
He shuddered delicately. “You don't talk about sex with your parents. EVER. Unless you're
ready to hear them talk about theirs, which you don't, believe me.”

“Then if it's not that, why is the sight of me so fascinating to him then? I don't even
look at myself that closely,” she said nervously.

“I don't know,” he shrugged helplessly. “Who knows what's going on inside a Malfoy's
head. I'm not ready to venture into that man's psyche, thank you very much, nor will I ever
be.”

Ginny had just opened her mouth to continue her raving when she noticed that Colin's
attention had been captured elsewhere.

“Maybe he was not really looking at you, Gin,” he said softly, “but at something behind
you.”

Her brows drew together in confusion before she turned to look at who he was looking at. And her
heart promptly dropped to her stomach.

Beside her, Colin placed his hands on her hips. To another, the gesture looked nothing out of
the ordinary, but between the two persons involved, it was a clear indication of moral support.
Ginny unconsciously sought out the hand resting on her hip and laced her fingers briefly with the
other before dropping them to her side again. She always wondered how she would react to seeing
Draco again, and now she was being given the chance to find out. She just didn't expect that
when she did see him again, he would be with another woman.

“Don't worry, I'll be here,” Colin whispered to her, squeezing her hips for
emphasis.

Ginny closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath before opening them again. Colin
knew, even before he felt her back straighten, that Ginny of the post-diary period was now in
control. And he was proven right when she faced him and he could see nothing in her eyes. It was
eerie, looking at fathomless honey colored eyes, as though the person was not quite there and what
was in front of you was just a shell. Even the smile she bestowed on him was not one he recognized
nor particularly liked.

“You okay?” he asked anxiously, looking at her carefully.

“I've been better,” she answered honestly. “I just hope he doesn't take it into his head
to come near me or I won't be responsible for my actions.”

Colin looked up momentarily. “Looks like you won't have to deal with him coming near you;
his *date*, and I use the term loosely, is taking the initiative for him,” he said to her
quickly before their solitude was interrupted by the annoying voice of Ginny's personal
nemesis, Pansy Parkinson.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't little Ginny Weasley. How quaint. You're the last person
I expected to see tonight.”

Ginny turned around and looked down her nose at the offending sight before her.

“Parkinson.” She said the name so disdainfully that Colin had to stifle a snicker. “Still having
problems with your sinuses, I see. All of your Daddy's money not enough to pay to have your
nose fixed?” Ginny hated being catty, but Parkinson had always been able to raise her hackles just
by breathing.

Pansy sniffed, which didn't help add to her attraction factor when she sounded like she had
accidentally sucked something up her nose. Colin was not even bothering covering his chuckles as he
watched Pansy grow angrier by the minute.

“And I see you Weasleys still haven't bothered teaching yourselves how to conduct yourselves
in public.”

As a comeback, it was rather lame, and Ginny's chin rose even higher. “You're being
redundant, Parkinson; you could have just said we Weasley's have no manners. You might save
yourself from having to talk more than you should and me from having to listen to your voice.” She
looked briefly at the silent Draco before she allowed the slight smirk to appear on her lips. “But
then again, who am I to curtail one of your pleasures in life? You have very few of them as it is.
Personally, I've never really understood the fascination of hearing one's self talk, but to
each her own, I guess.”

Pansy threatened to spill herself out of her dress, her chest was so puffed up in
indignation.

“You should be careful, Weaslette,” Pansy hissed, hatred making her voice quiver, “your
father's not Minister yet. Don't act like you're one of us when you can't back it
up.”

When Ginny didn't immediately answer, Pansy started to internally jump up and down in
jubilation for besting the red headed bint. Her celebration was cut short, however, when she became
the recipient of a look of such disdain she was envious for not having mastered that art of facial
expression yet. Which begs the question of how a lowly Weasley could accomplish such a feat?

“Who said I wanted to be one of you?” Ginny said haughtily. “The day I willingly become a
simpering fool is the day I become your friend, Parkinson. And we both know that'll only happen
over your dead body.” She looked her up from top to bottom, “And from what I can see, it's not
something that anybody will be sorry to see the last of. Really, Parkinson, a knock off Claudia
Mendez? Shame on you.”

Pansy's mouth dropped open in shock. There was no way this impoverished hag could know
that!

“That's a lie!” she said shrilly, fists clenched at her sides.

Ginny just rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Parkinson.” She made to leave but was stopped
when Pansy threw her own dig.

“And what about you? Did you have your mother sew that tasteless excuse for a dress, or did you
make it yourself? Do you honestly expect me to believe that a Weasley could afford a Martinique?”
Pansy sounded so triumphant, she even stomped her foot to declare herself the winner of their
spat.

Ginny really looked at Pansy for maybe the first time in her life. It was inconceivable to her
just how completely ignorant she was and Ginny was starting to have a firm belief that Pansy was
not as wealthy as she wanted everybody to believe her to be. It was slowly starting to make sense
to her.

She looked at Draco again, who was avoiding looking at her. She wanted to smack him for
blatantly ignoring the obvious, but smacking meant touching and she didn't think she was up to
that yet.

“Maybe you should have Malfoy here teach you about which is which, Parkinson, you are apparently
either just plain stupid, or you're just another social climbing monkey hankering for some
stupid idiot with deep pockets to fulfill your sense of self-importance. Either way, you're
both a total waste of space and air. And you're giving me a headache.” She turned around and
linked arms with a prideful looking Colin, who could not stop grinning.

“If that's the case, then why couldn't you stop looking at Draco?”

Ginny stiffened. Her hold on Colin's arm tightened as she tried to keep her temper under
control.

“And since you brought the subject of social climbing up, it takes one to know one. Does that
mean you're also here to try and find yourself a moneyed idiot as well? Or were you here for
Draco?”

Ginny could not believe the stupidity of this girl. Did she really just admit that she was what
she had been accused of? And what was wrong with Malfoy? Why was he just standing there, letting
his banshee of a date make a fool of herself? As she turned to deliver her coup de grace, she saw
that Draco was finally looking at her. But he might as well have looked elsewhere for all the
feeling she could see coming from his eyes; it was as though he didn't even recognize her, as
though she was something so unimportant she didn't deserve the courtesy of acknowledgment. The
disinterested look in those gray eyes firmed her resolve. So be it then.

“Actually Parkinson,” she said smoothly, “it takes one who couldn't care less to spot one
who cares too much. And as for me being here for Draco? Please. He's been with you. I
wouldn't want to catch whatever you've given him.” She sneered at the red faced Parkinson.
“There's something to be said for safe sex, I know, but no amount of condoms would make me want
to take up where you left off. I wouldn't touch any part of you with a pair of tongs; what
makes you think I'd let anything that's been dipped in you touch any part of me?”


Ginny blinked when Pansy shrieked and moved to scratch her eye out. The hand with gaudily painted
red nails stopped a few inches short of making contact with her face.

“That's enough, Pansy!” Draco's voice brooked no argument as he firmly took hold of his
date's flailing limbs. “You're embarrassing yourself, stop your caterwauling right now,” he
admonished disdainfully. His eyes suddenly locked with Ginny's and she resisted the urge to
flinch at the coldness in them. “Engaging in a muggle fight with somebody beneath you is not the
best way to ingratiate yourself to my parents. You wouldn't want them having second thoughts
about your suitability as my wife, would you?”

It took all of Ginny's inherent self-preservation from breaking down in front of Draco. He
had said it, and Ginny knew he also meant it. She would never be good enough for him and it hurt to
finally hear it said out loud. All of a sudden she felt lightheaded, and with a last hateful look
thrown at the still struggling woman, she walked away, Colin behind her, his arms steadying her
every step.

“Just take a deep breath, put your foot in front of the other and don't look back,” Colin
whispered to her, his hold not letting up. He kept on encouraging her until they were out of the
strident ballroom, the noise drowned out by the closing of the doors behind them.

As soon as they were out of sight of anybody, Ginny leaned on the wall of the lobby for support,
her whole body shaking. She wanted to retch, but there was only enough pressure for her to feel
bile in her mouth. She took deep calming breaths, and when that didn't do it, she closed her
eyes. As soon as she had her eyes closed, however, she felt the earth start turning under her feet
and she immediately snapped her eyes open.

“I don't feel so good, Colin,” she stated weakly, right before she fell into his arms in a
dead faint.

When she woke again, the familiarity of the area, and the bed she was lying on at the moment,
hit her right away. She rose from the bed, swinging her legs over the side, wondering how long she
had been out.

“Ah, good, you're up,” a Medi-Witch said cheerfully, as she came into the room. “Your friend
has been awfully worried about you and I could not tell him what was rightly wrong with you until I
knew for certain he was family. Can you sit up straight for me, please?” she instructed as she
pulled out her wand.

Ginny did as instructed and the Medi-Witch proceeded to run her wand over her body. “What's
wrong with me? I don't understand why I just fainted like that; that's never happened to me
before,” she explained as the other woman started noting down her findings.

“Ah, but then I don't think you've ever had this particular condition before,” she
stated, smiling at her.

Ginny paled. “Why? What's wrong with me? Am I sick? I've been feeling tired for a few
days now, but I didn't think much of it. Is it serious?”

The Medi-Witch laughed. “No, you're not sick, and depending on how you look at it, this
might be serious.”

Ginny frowned in confusion. “If I'm not sick, then why would you call my condition serious?
Will I recover from it?

“Oh, I'd say you'll recover from it in eight months time,” the Medi-Witch answered, the
smile still on her face.

Ginny's frown didn't abate at the obvious glee the Medi-Witch was feeling towards her
illness. “It has a time frame?” What sort of illness gets cured at approximately eight months
time?

The Medi-Witch smiled beatifically at her. “Congratulations, Ms. Weasley. You're
pregnant.”

And for the second time that day, Ginny fainted dead-away.

-->



7. Introducing...Draco Jr.
--------------------------



Disclaimer: The characters in this fic is not mine, no matter how i wish otherwise, especially
Draco.

A/N: I've made up some people that were not in the canon for which I feel are essential to the
story, so bear with me. Also, I have totally revised the last few chapters. I felt that there were
too many gaps in my original story that I knew it would leave the readers thinking what time warp
they had fallen into. Anyways, on with the story.


Chapter 7: Introducing…Draco Jr.



Draco watched the redhead being led away and he barely resisted the urge to take her into his arms
and never let go. It was better this way, he told himself.

The past five weeks had been hell on earth. Literally. He could not help but relive how it felt to
hold Ginny in his arms, how right it was, and every time he did, he punished himself the only way
he knew how. Fucking Pansy always left him empty inside and the feeling was so familiar and safe
that for once, he felt grateful to have her in his life. He didn't need a complication of the
redheaded variety and if he had only known taking her was going to disrupt his well-ordered
existence, he would have put as much distance between them as was humanly possible. But he
didn't know, and now he was being tortured by thoughts of her. It didn't help matters that
he suddenly had a conscience to deal with as well, a very vocal conscience.

The first time that previously nonexistent part of him started to speak up and actually argue with
him, he had feared he'd finally gone round the bend. After he had ascertained that he was still
in full control of his mental faculties, he had tried to silence it like before. No such luck
though. The blasted voice even gave itself a name; somehow, he doubted if anybody would take him
seriously if he complained about Draco Junior buzzing around in his head. It was really not to be
borne, especially since the blasted thing reared its ugly head at the most inopportune
moment.

Like now.

You've really gone and done it this time, you've finally burned your bridges beyond repair,
Draco Junior despaired. If Draco could actually see it, he'd probably be knocking its head
against something solid by now.

Good, he thought, maybe then I can finally get some peace from it.

You think I'd leave you alone now that you've finally driven her away? I thought you were
smarter than that? Didn't you graduate second in you class or something, or was that just a
fluke? Draco gritted his teeth when the infernal voice laughed. It was laughing! At him! I'm so
funny I could kill myself. Oh, well. She got you good, didn't she? I knew she was the one for
you. So smart, so saucy, and damn hot too! Too bad you're too much of a prick to recognize a
diamond even when it's being poked in your eye. Sigh. I envy the wizard who finally gets to
call that one his own. She's a keeper, that one is.

Draco physically jerked in surprise when he heard that, making Pansy look at him oddly. Never in
all his self-imposed distancing from the redhead did he think that she may actually find somebody
else, do with that somebody else what she did with him, and the thought left him cold. Sure, before
he knew she was a virgin he had assumed she'd been intimate with someone already; looking the
way she did it was inconceivable that she had stayed pure that long. But when he'd been gifted
with her virginity and she had more or less confessed her love for him, he had taken it for granted
that love was first cousins with hate and what he did to her after taking something she could never
get back, hate was too mild a word to describe how he'd feel if he'd been in her place.
She'd probably jump in bed with some random wizard if only to erase the memory of his touch
from her body. And for the life of him, he could not stop thinking he'd AK anybody who dared
swoop in on his territory.

Someone's getting jealous, Draco Junior sing-songed merrily. And you're selling her short
if you think she's as amoral as you, my boy. She would never use sex to shy away from the
truth, unlike some people I know. No, she'd erase you from her memory by falling in love with
somebody else. That's the most effective way of exorcising you from her life. You would have
been just a distant thought to her, a vague memory insignificant enough to warrant total recall.
She'll get married, have a passel of kids, and when somebody comes to her in the future and
says to her `Did you know about Draco Malfoy blah blah blah', she'll furrow that perfectly
shaped brow of hers and ask `Draco who?' Cheery thought, ain't it?

Draco was trembling with rage. He wanted to stop that voice from talking further, but after five
weeks of trying, he didn't think he would ever be able to do it. He was taken aback by the
viciousness beneath its dulcet tones, though; this was the first time it had purposely tried to
make him bleed and he was bloody hemorrhaging from the inside! And it wasn't through saying its
piece yet.

And you, Draco Malfoy, oh high and mighty prince of Slytherin, it drawled lazily, would live out
your days remembering what you could have had if you hadn't foolishly thrown away your chance.
How do I know this? Because I am going to make sure you never forget. I am going to enjoy reminding
you of days gone by until you squirm. You think you're bad? You haven't seen what I can do
yet. You think you can shut me up by screwing your brains out with that slut Parkinson? Please! You
could shove your head up her cunt and I'd still be here, bidding my time until you can no
longer hold your breath from the stench. Oh, woe is you, Draco Malfoy, woe is you. Who would have
thought the heir to the most illustrious house of Black and Malfoy would end up alone, unloved,
unappreciated, slaking his lust by fucking what basically amounted to a high-priced whore for a
wife. And while the girl that got away lives out her days with a wizard who loves her, surrounded
by children who adore her, you would always wonder if the child you call your own is really yours.
After all, what else can you expect from the slag of Slytherin? Don't you feel just chipper for
your future?

Draco was too shocked to form a coherent thought. The bleak future his conscience painted was not
so far from the truth that he mentally recoiled from the horror that lay before him. He had more or
less worked half-way to that end already and the future to him seemed as unstoppable as an oncoming
train. He was on his way to a full-on collision course and he was no longer in control of the
brakes; his demonic inner self had apparently wrenched it away from him.

That's right, just because I'm your conscience doesn't mean I should be a saint.
Something saintly wouldn't last a day in your head; I barely made it through and I'm
demonic as you so eloquently put it. But rest easy, my boy, the worst is yet to come and I'll
be there to watch you break with bells on! Enjoy the vapid and moronic Ms. Pansy Parkinson while
you can, I doubt you'll get anything but a headache and a hankering for a bottle of Ogden's
finest to dull the pain of her illuminating company.

“What's a condom, Drake?”

And Einstein strikes again! Do make her stop before she hurts herself; thinking all that much just
might strain what little brain cells left in that vacuum between her ears, Draco Junior crowed
delightedly, making Draco want to pound his head into a brick wall until he was either too dizzy
for the pain or Crucio his brain to insanity. The possibilities were endless but he had to deal
with the object of his conscience's scorn before anything else.

“Do I have muggle stamped on my forehead, Pansy?” he asked wearily, wishing with all his might that
he was somewhere else right now.

Pansy frowned in thought. “But what does it have to do with sex? And why would the Weaslette even
know such a thing? You don't think she's giving it out to muggles, do you, because I
wouldn't put it past her to do just that. People like her do.”

And people like you would fuck a flobberworm if you thought it could give you a leg up in the
world. How's that for stereotyping? I have several phrases for that bitch, Draco: People in
glass houses, kettle - black, sticks and stones; I could go on and on, you know, my repertoire is
rather vast and spot on.

Draco closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to control his rapidly diminishing calm. When he opened
them again, he saw that Pansy was looking at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to say
anything disparaging about Ginny.

“Don't Pansy,” he warned dangerously, “don't open your mouth unless you have something
worthwhile to say. I am not in the mood to listen to whatever lame comment you have. Whatever
thought that comes to your head that I wouldn't want to hear, keep it there. For Merlin and
Morganna's sake, just keep it there.”

You certainly told her off, mate, but I don't think she quite got it.

And sure enough, Pansy looked more put out than hurt. To her way of thinking, everything she has to
say Draco has to hear so it irritated her to know that he considered some of what she might say as
something unimportant. He was her almost-fiancée, he should be attentive to her.

“But Draco - ”

“Later. Father and mother are approaching,” he said quietly, taking her elbows and turning her to
face his parents.

“Draco,” Lucius drawled as he stood before his only son, his wife by side. “Ms. Parkinson.” He
briefly acknowledged the woman clinging on his son's arms before dismissing her presence by
totally ignoring her. “I see you changed your mind about tonight. Good, good. May I know
why?”

“Hush, Lucius, it's enough that he's here. Hello, Pansy, it's so good to see you,”
Narcissa said diplomatically, moving forward to kiss the air beside her cheeks. “I hope you're
enjoying yourself?”

“I was,” Pansy said, obviously still in a bit of a snit, “until that female Weasley started
harassing me and Draco.”

Draco sent her a warning glare, which she totally ignored. She knew the Malfoy patriarch hated the
Weasleys with a passion and she was hoping he would raise her complaint to the right ears, anything
to stir up trouble for that muggle loving fool's hopes of becoming the next Minister of Magic.
Her hopes were dashed however, when all she got from Lucius Malfoy was a frankly disinterested
raising of platinum eyebrows.

“Really? I thought I saw you approach the other girl, Ms. Parkinson, not the other way around.” His
eyes bored into the girl's, making her shake in apprehension and fear. “Would you like to
correct me on my observation?”

Draco sighed. Curse Pansy's stubbornness. She should have known that his father would not take
kindly to being lied to. And since the source of the lie was Pansy, the sin was much worse in the
ex-Deatheater's eyes. For some reason, Lucius seemed to dislike Pansy; no, dislike was probably
too kind a word to describe his feelings towards the girl; it was almost as though he actually
hated her. He had had many a conversation with his father regarding his attachment to the brunette,
and on more than one occasion, he could have sworn Lucius intimated he would not be averse to the
idea if he found somebody else to warm his bed. He had questioned his mother about Lucius' odd
behavior, but all she could tell him was that Lucius held no fondness for Pansy, nothing new there
considering it was the very reason for his inquiry after all. He had also noticed that his father
had taken to locking himself in his study, staying there hours at a time and when he did come out,
he always looked troubled and would give him long searching looks. If he was not positive Lucius
had given up practicing the dark arts, he would have started to worry. As it was, all he could do
was watch as his father grew more and more troubled and his treatment of Pansy started to border on
hostility. Whatever it was that brought about his worrisome behavior, he only hoped it would not
give the Ministry another reason to doubt his innocence.

“Tick, Tock, Ms. Parkinson. I'm waiting.”

Pansy paled. “I - I - ”

Fortunately, Pansy was given a reprieve by Narcissa Malfoy. “Don't do this now, Lucius, there
is a place and time for settling this misunderstanding and this moment is not it. The Weasley
couple has just arrived, together with the Harts and the Prewetts.”

Narcissa said all of that between smiling lips as she watched the future Minister of Magic with his
wife conversing animatedly with Augustus and Henrietta Hart, and Thomas and Elizabeth Prewett, the
former Molly Prewett's eldest brother and one of the acknowledged political geniuses in
Wizarding Britain. It was amusing to see how bridges were mended when reversals of fortunes were
within one's grasp; the uppity Thomas Prewett would never have acknowledged his sister before
the war, but now that Arthur Weasley looked to be on the verge of becoming the next Minister, his
offense at daring to marry Molly without a knut to his name could now be overlooked.

Narcissa's eyes darted over to the Harts. Belonging to one of the oldest pureblooded families
in the wizarding world, Narcissa was still prideful of the fact that they were nowhere as
distinguished in lineage as her own, on both the Black and Malfoy genealogy. They were rich enough
and therefore wielded considerable influence over the common populace, but they could never surpass
the kind of dominion she and her husband exerted over a majority of the Wizarding population, rich
and poor alike. It was an unspoken fact and yet still widely acknowledged.

Narcissa placed her right hand on her husband's arms and made a slight inclination of her
head.

“Shouldn't it be prudent to approach the Weasleys now, my dear, before all the other stuff
begins,” she suggested, looking intently into Lucius' eyes to gauge his reaction. Her heart
swelled when she saw only polite interest as he studied the redheaded couple.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucius saw a tall wizard dressed in an expensive dark suit raise his
glass of champagne and nod slightly at him before turning around and exiting the ballroom. Then he
watched as the blond wizard Ginny Weasley had been with earlier approach the elder Weasley couple,
spoke a few words to them and left just as quickly.

“Not yet, Narcissa,” he answered his wife as he observed the couple make their excuses to their
companions and left as well, worried expressions on their faces. “As you said, there is a place and
time for everything and now is not it.”

Draco also observed the abrupt departure of Ginny's parents and he could not begin to imagine
what brought such worried looks on their faces. They didn't even wait to be announced to the
gathering first before taking their leave. He also noted that the rest of the Weasley children
didn't notice their parents had arrived and left as they were occupied conversing with friends
and other guests.

“What do you suppose that's all about, Father?” Draco asked as the door closed behind the
departing couple.

Before Lucius could answer, however, Pansy dug an even deeper grave for herself.

“That's what they get for wanting a socially inept wizard to be Minister of Magic; absolutely
no manners.”

Lucius turned hot, quelling eyes on Pansy. “And you would know all about manners, wouldn't you,
Ms. Parkinson, seeing as how you've conducted yourself as befitting your status in society so
well thus far.”

Pansy didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. Lucius was looking at her with eyes
that could strike fear in the hearts of the foolishly brave and yet his words sounded complimentary
enough to her.

Draco inwardly flinched. Unlike Pansy, he knew his father well, and the disgust in his voice and
revulsion in his eyes could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. Had Pansy
possessed a bit more sensitivity and intellect, she would have heard the sarcasm in his words and
understood that she was skating on dangerously thin ice.

Unlike her son, however, Narcissa had never before seen this side of Lucius. She prided herself on
her intimate knowledge of her husband; being married for twenty years to Lucius, there were three
certainties she had come to know about him: one was that purity of blood was the true measure of a
witch or wizard; the second was that money was the only language worth listening to; and the third
was that all Weasleys were vile, faithless blood traitors who didn't deserve to live. To hear
him now almost defending the very thing that he hated the most threw all her preconceptions to the
four winds. What in the name of Morganna was going on?

“Well,” Narcissa said, breaking the tense air hovering over them, “it looks like there's no
point for us to stay. Draco, why don't you take Pansy home; I'm sure two young people like
yourselves wouldn't want to be cooped up when you could be doing something more interesting.”
She ignored the incredulous look her husband shot at her. “Your father and I will see you later at
the Manor, I'm sure. Goodnight, my dears.” She repeated the gesture of kissing the air on each
side of Pansy's cheek, then laid a tender kiss on her son's forehead. Through with the
requisite social niceties, she shooed them off before holding her hands out to her husband. “Shall
we?”

Lucius frowned at her as he took her hand. “Did you have to give them permission to have sex?” he
asked sourly, watching as his son and Pansy Parkinson disappeared amongst the crowd.

“Lucius!” Narcissa chided, slapping him playfully on the arm. “I did no such thing. Draco is just a
boy, he would not do such a thing.”

Platinum eyebrows threatened to shoot past scalp and lodge into the ceiling in disbelief. “Draco is
a 19-year-old man, Narcissa, and if my sources haven't been slacking in their duties, I'd
say he hasn't been a boy since he was fourteen, I'd even hazard a guess at thirteen. Did
you honestly think he was still a virgin?”

Narcissa blushed a becoming shade of pink. Of course she believed her son to be chaste, why would
she not? She was a firm believer of no sex before marriage and her son had not mentioned any
intention of getting married, therefore he was not going to be having sex. Period!

“Don't be ridiculous, Lucius. Draco is a good boy, he would never succumb to temptation no
matter how tempting the offer is and I will not listen to any more talk otherwise.”

There was a very serious possibility that Lucius' brows would be perpetually raised, or at the
very least, he would develop a permanent line across his forehead. But his wife's ignorance of
their son's proclivities was just astounding.

Lucius had no illusions as to Draco's character when he had started growing up, it was
blatantly clear for anybody who bothered to look. His son was just like himself at that age, cocky,
arrogant, fresh and too handsome for his own good. He himself had been fourteen when he had
discovered the pleasures to be had between a woman's legs; he was pretty certain Draco had been
initiated at the age of thirteen by a 7th year Slytherin girl by the name of Marcy Cummings, and
once he'd tried just how pleasurable the activity was, he had not been without a willing
partner for any length of time from that moment on. After all, good looks and the promise of a
fortune was a powerful aphrodisiac, and no ordinary witch would be able to resist. Lucius was never
more thankful for the enchantments and curses that have been in effect on the Malfoy family for
generations; otherwise, with his son's fondness for sex, he shuddered at the number of little
Malfoys probably running amok in Wizarding Britain, and beyond, right now. No, Draco was no longer
a boy, and according to the Book of Malfoys, he was soon going to have a girl and a boy.

Looking at his wife's adamant face, he decided to let the matter rest. For now. “If you say so,
my dear, if you say so.”




~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~



Colin paced back and forth outside of Ginny's room, worry for his best friend making him look
far older than his 18 years. He had only been back for a few minutes from the Ministry after
informing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley of what happened to Ginny and he was nearly ready to start pulling
out clumps of hair from his head in frustration. That damned Medi-Witch would not tell him what was
wrong with his best friend seeing as he was not family. The nerve of them! They were more than
willing to accept his galleons to pay for Ginny's rooms but tell him something, anything,
pertaining his friend's condition and their mouths were as tight as a virgin's arse! He
didn't need their `sorry, families only' rule, damn it!

Colin's head snapped up when he heard hurried footsteps approaching him and sighed in relief
when he saw that Arthur and Molly Weasley had finally arrived.

“Colin, where is she? What happened? Is she all right?” Mrs. Weasley held his arms in a vice-like
grip and for once, Colin could not feel the familiar fear rising up his spine whenever he was
within Ginny's mothers' vicinity.

“She's in there. The Medi-witch just left, she didn't tell me anything, only that Ginny
woke up for a few minutes then passed out again. I wanted to wait up for you since she wouldn't
tell me anything about what was wrong with her.”

“Do you know what might have caused this? Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary from her?”
Mr. Weasley asked, looking just as worried as his wife.

Colin shook his head. “Only that she has been feeling tired the past few days; other than that, no.
She's been stressed out about - things, but she was slowly recovering from it. Why don't we
go inside and wait for the Medi-witch to return,” he said hurriedly when he saw Mrs. Weasley was
about to ask him about his near slip. If Ginny found out he had inadvertently told her parents
about her encounter with Draco Malfoy five weeks ago, she would skin him alive.

They filed into the sterile room, their steps controlled so as not to wake Ginny who was still out
of it. Mrs. Weasley rushed immediately to her daughter's side, carefully smoothing stray hairs
from her face.

“She's so pale, Arthur,” she said to her husband. “What could be wrong with my baby?”

“We musn't assume anything, Molly, let's wait for the Medi-witch to return. Panicking now
without all the facts won't help Ginny,” Arthur said reasonably. He then conjured three
cushioned chairs and offered one to his wife who drew it alongside Ginny's bed. She wasn't
going to take her eyes off her daughter `til she was sure she was going to be all right.

They stayed in that room, not talking, all their attention fixed on the seemingly fragile girl
laying on the pristine white bed. The opening and closing of the doors, which marked the return of
the Medi-witch brought the quiet to an end, making all three preoccupied visitors jump in surprise.
As soon as Mrs. Weasley saw who had entered, she could no longer contain herself and started firing
questions at the healer.

“What's wrong with my daughter? Why hasn't she woken up yet? What have you given her? Have
you tried reviving her? Will she have to stay here indefinitely? Will she recover?”

The Medi-witch blinked at the short, plump witch in surprise. By the urgency in her voice, there
was no question that she was indeed her patient's mother, but for the life of her she could not
help but wonder how someone as exquisitely beautiful as Ginevra Weasley could come from a woman
who, at best, could only be viewed as very pretty. She knew her thoughts were petty, but since she
knew there was no real emergency with regards to their daughter's condition, she refused to
feel guilty about her surprised, albeit honest, observation.

“Mrs. Weasley, please calm down. There's nothing wrong with your daughter,” she started to say,
trying to calm down the panicked woman.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes flickered down on the Medi-witches' name plate. “Healer Johnson,” she
said after reading the tag by her breast pocket, “if there's nothing wrong, then why hasn't
she gained consciousness by now? It's not normal behavior for my daughter to faint without any
apparent reason.”

“I understand your concern, Mrs. Weasley, and I totally agree with you about your daughter,” Healer
Johnson said, nodding. “I've seen your daughter around here and she is exceptional in her
skills. She's our most promising trainee even though I sense from her that her heart is not
really into what she's doing. If you don't mind my saying so, that is quite an
accomplishment; the healing arts is not something easy that anybody can just go into, dedication
and full commitment has to be established at the onset. And yet your daughter has managed to excel
at it with half a heart.” She looked at the other two occupants of the room briefly, recognizing
the blond right away as the one who brought Ginny in; the other could be no other than the father.
There goes the mystery of the height prowess, she briefly thought when her eyes rested on the tall
redheaded wizard who towered over his wife by more than a foot. “To answer the most pertinent of
your questions,” she continued, “she hasn't woken up yet not because she's sick, it's
because she has just learned something that shocked her to unconsciousness. I'm sure it
won't be long now before she comes to. In fact,” she said, noting the stirring movements by the
bed, “I think she's just about to rejoin us.”

Ginny opened her eyes slowly, not sure why it was she felt so weighed down. For some inexplicable
reason something was nagging at the back of her mind, but for the life of her she could not dredge
up the energy to look into what it was just then.

“Gin?”

Ginny's eyes swivelled to the right at the sound of her name. “Mum? What are you doing here?”
It was then she noticed that her father and Colin were also there, looking at her with worried
eyes. “What's going on?” she asked, confused by all the attention.

“Your parents have been worried about you, Ms. Weasley. It's a good thing you've finally
decided to wake up, I don't think I could've held them off for very long.”

Ginny's eyes moved to her left and there was only a moments' confusion before everything
that took place just a few hours before started converging in on her at once. Her eyes widened as
she heard again what the healer had told her right before she fainted, the words `you're
pregnant' reverberating around her head like a rogue bludger.

Healer Johnson understood Ginny's expression right away. “Do you want me to stay while you tell
them?” she asked gently, giving her an encouraging smile.

Ginny visibly gulped as she looked at her parents. How the hell do you tell your parents that their
daughter had been knocked up by the world's biggest arsehole? She hated disappointing them; she
had tried keeping her mistake from them but how could she do that now when there was soon going to
be an undeniable physical evidence of her extreme lack of good judgment.

Shakily, she rose to a sitting position on the bed, moving backwards until her back touched the
walls. She really had no other choice but to tell them; the only question that remained was how
badly they would take the news of her impending parenthood?

“I think it would be best if I tell them myself,” she said to the Medi-witch, “but thank you for
the offer.”

The healer's smile never faltered as she nodded. “You can call for me anytime if you need help.
Good luck.”

Ginny watched the Medi-witch leave, carefully avoiding looking at her parents and friend just yet.
She didn't know where to begin her confession; at least Colin already knew half of the story,
but she doubted if he'd take her current predicament with any less shock than her parents. Oh,
where to begin?

“Gin, honey, what is it?” Molly Weasley's gentle voice penetrated her troubled musings. Mrs.
Weasley had moved from the chair she was previously sitting and was now perched by her side, giving
her hands a comforting squeeze. “Go on, you can tell us anything,” she encouraged lovingly.

Ginny hung her head in shame. “I'm sorry, Mum, Dad, I never meant to hurt you. I swear I never
meant for any of this to happen,” she said quietly.

Molly looked at her husband, confused. Why was their daughter looking so dejected, as though the
weight of the world was on her shoulders? Arthur was no better off, not understanding what Ginny
was talking about.

“Ginny, luv, you could never disappoint us,” Arthur said, smiling down at his daughter lovingly.
“You have always made us proud and we're lucky to have you as our daughter.”

Ginny couldn't help it; she burst out crying, her hands covering her face to hide her misery.
What her father said only made the guilt weigh her down some more. What would they think of her now
that she had given them a reason to despise her? Would they now regret having her as a daughter?
Were they going to cast her out of their lives and pretend that she never existed?

Molly Weasley was shocked at her outburst and tried to comfort her, taking her into her arms and
tried placating her by assuring her that everything was going to be all right.

“Whatever it is that's bothering you Gin, it can't be that bad. We'll help you deal
with it, we - ”

“I'm pregnant! Mum, I'm going to have a baby,” she said brokenly, wrenching her hands away
from her tear-streaked face. “Now can you tell me it's not that bad? Will you still help me
deal with it?”

Mrs. Weasley drew back from her, not sure if she had heard her right. “What?” she asked, her voice
calm and low.

Ginny looked from one shocked face to another, her tears still flowing unchecked down her face. “I
know you all think I'm this good little girl who can never make a mistake, but I'm not.
I'm just like the next witch who sometimes doesn't think about the consequences until they
are slapped with them.” She felt like her insides were shrivelling up as she looked at her
parents' faces. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You can never know how sorry I am for doing
this to you,” she said pleadingly, wanting very much to just wake up and be told that all of this
was just a nightmare or a poorly delivered joke. But she knew she wouldn't be so lucky.

All Molly Weasley could do was stare at her daughter's contrite face, disbelief warring with
despair inside of her. She could not believe that her daughter, her little girl, was not so little
anymore. She wanted to take her in her arms again and assure her that everything was going to be
all right but she knew it would not be true. Everything was changed now and there was no going back
for Ginny.

“Gin, why didn't you make sure this wouldn't happen?” Colin spoke for the first time, his
voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

“Because I didn't know it was going to happen!” she cried out. “It was only that one time, you
know that! The last thing I was worried about was whether I'd get pregnant!”

Colin raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “You're a Weasley, for Merlin's
sake! Even with the strongest contraception potion in the market there's still a fifty-fifty
chance of your getting knocked up. Jesus H. Christ, you should have told me you weren't
protected!”

If looks could kill, Colin would have dropped down dead from the intensity of Mr. Weasley's
glare. “You knew about this?” he asked with barely controlled fury in his voice.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but it wasn't my place to tell you,” Colin said quietly. “When
Ginny told me what happened, I was more concerned with making sure she would come out all right
from it. She's my friend first, and if you feel that I've lied to you, even by way of
omission, then I'm sorry.”

“Dad, it's not Colin's fault,” Ginny said plaintively, “don't blame him for this.
I'm the one you should be angry with. Please.”

Arthur Weasley took a deep breath. “Who's the father then?”

Ginny shook her head. “I can't tell you, dad, I'm sorry.”

“Of course you'll tell me!” Arthur said, his voice beginning to rise. “You have to tell me so
you two can get married. After I beat the crap out of him first.”

“No!” Ginny said loudly. “I won't marry him! And he won't marry me! Dad, please, just let
it go. I beg you.” She looked at her father pleadingly, showing him how important it was that he
listen to her.

Arthur Weasley's face hardened. “Nobody touches my daughter and not take responsibility for
it,” he said with dead finality to his voice.

Ginny turned pleadingly to her mother. “Mum, I don't want to marry him, I don't. He hates
me. I won't be shackled to anybody who only feels hate everytime he looks at me.”

“Gin, it's not only yourself you have to think of now, there's a baby involved,” Molly said
sadly. “If what you say is true and he really does hate you, then he shouldn't have touched
you. He has no choice but to marry you now.”

“Never!” Ginny said almost wildly. “And Lucius Malfoy would never let his precious son marry a
lowly Weasley.”

“You mean - ”

“Yes! It was Draco! Now do you see why it's impossible for us to marry?”

Arthur's eyes gleamed in triumph. “Even better. I'm sure Lucius would be more than happy to
have you as a daughter-in-law. And I won't feel too awful breaking a few of his son's
bones.”

Ginny was not aware how truly possible and easy it would be for her father to arrange the marriage;
all she could hear was that he was forcing her to marry a man who would make her life a living
hell. She knew Draco would never forgive her if he was forced to marry her, and she wouldn't be
able to bear it if his hate extended to their child for the simple fact that he/she would be a part
of her.

Ginny loved her father, but there was no way she could let him do that to her and her baby.

“If you persist on this, daddy, I'm going to run away,” she said quietly, her eyes determined.
“You will never see me or my baby again, I promise you that.”

Arthur Weasley looked so furious that his wife feared for what he might do next. She loved him
dearly, would do anything for him, but she knew Ginny was not one to make idle threats and if the
situation wasn't diffused soon, they may very well lose their daughter.

“Arthur, I'll talk to Ginny. Please,” she insisted when he was about to deny her request.
"All of this is a shock, I know, but we have to respect her decision. We might not like it,
but she's an adult now. I'm not saying I accept her choice,” she said hurriedly, when she
saw his anger was not abating, “and I'll try my best to make her see reason but I have to talk
to her first. Can you give us a few minutes? Please?”

Arthur nodded stiffly and walked out of the room without once looking at his daughter.

“I'll just wait outside and give you a moment alone,” Colin said quietly before also quitting
the room.

Ginny sat on her bed, worrying the sheets with her restless fingers. She could not look her mother
in the eye, all her former bluster evaporating as soon as they were left alone.

“Ginny, look at me,” Mrs. Weasley said gently, tipping her daughter's chin to make her look up.
“I'm not angry at you; Merlin knows I should be livid, but you have always been a girl after my
own heart. I know there's a reason why this happened and I want you to tell me, honestly, what
it is. I promise I'm not going to judge you.”

Ginny's eyes glittered with tears again. She felt so undeserving and yet her mother still loved
her. Would the guilt never stop?

“I've been so stupid, Mum,” she began, her voice quivering. “I don't know why or how I fell
in love with Draco; I just woke up one day and saw him differently. I couldn't control how I
felt, I couldn't get him out of my mind. He was no help either, always picking on me and
generally trying to make me feel awful. I knew there was no chance for him to feel the same way so
when he graduated, I thought it was finally time for me to get over him. I had a lot of
responsibilities to keep me occupied and I thought that would be enough to distract me. But it
didn't work!” she said fiercely, punching the mattress furiously. “It became worse. Not seeing
him left me so empty, as though a part of me had been taken away when he left. I couldn't go
out with another because I knew I would only be using them to fill in that gap and that
wouldn't be fair to them. The one time I did try, I hurt, physically. I don't know why. As
you can imagine, that date didn't go too well, so I just stopped dating altogether.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the wall. “Then on the night of my birthday he
approached me. He was so gentle, so different from when we were in school. He told me things,
things that I didn't want to believe. I tried to resist, I really did, but seeing him again was
such a shock that all I could do was feel. And he made me feel so wanted, so special.” She opened
her eyes and stared straight at her mother's warm brown eyes. “And I was naïve enough to
believe that he might feel the same way about me. I looked into his eyes and saw that he cared for
me, and I was so happy.” Tears started to trek uncontrollably down her flushed cheeks as she
recalled how that night ended. “And then he told me after he was through with me that I - I only
saw what I wanted to see, that I was a fool to have ever believed for one minute that I was
anything more than a one night thing.” She started to sob brokenly, burrowing into her mother's
arms when she saw the older witch offer her arms to her. “I love him so much, Mum, and he looked at
me with so much loathing I just wanted to shrivel up and die. He hurt me so much; why did he have
to do and say the things he did if all he wanted was sex? Why did he make me feel so good, when all
he really wanted to do was hurt me? Why did he have to show me a side of him that only made me love
him more, when all he would make me feel afterwards was regret that I was born a Weasley?”

Molly Weasley tightened her arms around her daughter. She didn't take offense at what Ginny had
just said; she could feel for herself the pain her daughter felt at such blasphemous thoughts and
could understand why it ever crossed her mind in the first place.

Ginny pulled away from her mother's embrace reluctantly. “So you see, Mum, I can't marry
him. I love him too much to do that to the both of us. I don't want to have a husband who will
forever look at me like I was nothing more significant than muck stuck at the bottom of his shoe. I
don't want him to have to suffer my company. I'd rather love him from afar, at least that
way only one of us gets to be miserable.” She placed shaking hands over her still flat abdomen.
“And I would rather be alone and take care of my baby myself than let him grow in an environment of
hate.” She looked up at her mother. “This is my baby. Mine. Draco will never have to know he
fathered my baby. If I have to go away to ensure that then I will.”

Mrs. Weasley knew what Ginny said was not a threat but a promise, at the same time that she
realized there would be no changing her mind about the marriage. What she just heard from her
daughter was enough to make her understand that marriage was not the solution to their dilemma; in
fact, it might prove to be the cause to all of their future problems. As a mother, she knew that
having a baby was no easy task for a couple, let alone a single woman just starting to make her
mark in the wizarding world. As a woman, she knew that were she in the same situation, she would
probably choose as Ginny had chosen and face tomorrow as they come. But as a Prewitt, who chose to
leave behind the comfort wealth had to offer in order to be with the man she loved, she understood
all too well the sacrifices one has to make for the people they love and she would be behind her
daughters' decision even if she had to defy her husband to do it.

“I understand, Gin,” Molly said, holding on to her hands and squeezing it reassuringly. “There
won't be a marriage if that's what you really want. I'll make your father understand,
don't worry,” she promised when she saw Ginny's eyes dart over to the door. “He'll
raise hell, of course, but I won't let him force you into doing anything you don't want to
do. He won't give up easily and would probably try to change your mind every chance he could
get; I only ask you to listen to him. Don't lose your head. He loves you and wants only the
best for you.” She smiled sadly at her daughter, rubbing her hands over the back of her hands. “He
just sees this situation now as a failure on his part to protect you. Sometimes he forgets that you
and your brothers have all grown up and no longer need us as much as you used to.”

“That's not true, Mum,” Ginny protested.

“It's okay, Gin, your father and I have learned not to mind too much. Just remember to be
gentle with him when you shoot his suggestion down,” she said, giving Ginny a small smile. “It
might help soothe his ruffled feathers a bit.”

Ginny nodded. “Okay, Mum.”

Mrs. Weasley eased off the bed and straightened the beddings absentmindedly. “Now you rest,
I'll deal with your father. Be sure to owl me when Healer Johnson gives the ok for you to be
released.”

“Mum?” Ginny said, as Mrs. Weasley was preparing to leave.

“Yes, Gin?”

“Could you hold off on telling my brothers? I'd really like to be the one to break the news to
them.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Of course, Gin, don't worry. Now you sleep.”

Ginny settled back on her bed as the door closed behind her mother, her mind a jumble of thoughts.
When the door opened back up again, she didn't bother looking to know who it was.

“You okay?”

“Oh yes, I'm just super,” she answered sarcastically, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I'm
eighteen years old, I'm pregnant, my father is adamant I marry the baby's father,
they're probably thinking I'm aggravating the cycle of the Weasley's penury, I am
leading a double life as Ginevra the would-be healer and Ginevra the rich model, and for an encore,
I plan to do the can-can on Draco Malfoy's wedding to Pansy `snot-nosed' Parkinson.” She
turned weary eyes on Colin. “I am open to suggestions on how to fix my life, if you have
any.”

Colin sat on the chair Mrs. Weasley had earlier sat at. There was a contemplative look on his face.
After a short while, she heard him speak.

“You could call yourself Moira Wesley, or Genevieve Wells, or Ginny Welsch, or - ”

“At the risk of sounding obtuse, what the heck are you prattling on about?” Ginny interrupted,
confused.

Colin shrugged. “There's nothing we can do about the rest of your problems, but we can come up
with a stage name for you.” He smiled at her exasperated face. “What? I wasn't exactly known
for my problem-solving skills you know.”

Ginny snorted. “Apparently.”

“And besides,” Colin continued, “I know you'll bounce back from this. I know you. You always
manage to land on your feet, like a damn cat with well-manicured claws.”

“Yeah well, what's happening now is a lot different to what I usually have to face before. I
don't think there's room for me to experiment on.” Her voice turned down a notch as she
turned on her side to face her friend. “There's only one thing I'm sure of Colin.”

“And what's that?”

“I'm going to be a Mum.”

-->



8. Twin Surprise
----------------



**Chapter 8: Twin Surprise**

Ginny sat with her hands on her lap, her head down as she listened to her brothers' ranting.
It was nearing noon, and they had been at it going on three hours now. She had spent the night at
St. Mungo's, for observation, and Healer Johnson had only signed her discharge orders at eight
the following day. The owl she had sent her mother informing her she had been cleared to go home
was more than efficient as only fifteen minutes later, Molly Weasley came by to take her home.
Colin had offered to come with them to the Burrow to face her siblings but she had refused his
offer, knowing her brothers' unreasonable tempers would want an outlet for their anger and
disappointment and Colin , being the only non-family around would be the likeliest object of their
wrath. She needed Colin alive, not dead.

She glanced up as Bill abruptly stopped in front of her, his chest puffing out in anger.
Unbelievably, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering as she remembered a Muggle fairytale
her father used to tell her when she was a little girl. As she watched Bill huff and puff in front
of her, the picture of a wolf huffing and puffing to try and get to the pigs inside the hut came
vividly into her head and she did the worst things she could possibly have done that instant: she
giggled.

Bill's eyes flashed dangerously as he watched his sister laughing. “You think this is funny?
You think you getting pregnant is a laughing matter?”

Ginny tried to control her giggling but it was no use, her treacherous imagination would not
give her a moment's reprieve. “I'm sorry, Bill, I wasn't laughing at you, or at this
mess I'm in. Honestly.” She giggled some more.

“Can you believe this? Can you believe her?” Bill exploded as he shook an arm in her direction.
“Here we all are, struggling to make sense out of what happened and the very object of this little
get-together couldn't even be bothered to take the situation seriously!” His eyes stared down
at his youngest sibling, all the disappointment and hurt clear for anybody to see. “You used to be
so smart, Gin, what happened to you? How could you let this happen to you?”

“That is enough, William,” Mrs. Weasley said sharply when she saw that Ginny was about to turn
into a weeping mess once again. “It is not for us to condemn Ginny for getting pregnant. There is
nothing we can do to change what happened now, it's done and over with. Let it go.” Mrs.
Weasley's tone said all too clearly that she did not want to be disobeyed.

“So when's the wedding then?” Charlie asked from his corner of the living room. He had been
quiet since Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had dropped the bomb on them, listening to his other
brothers' loud exclamations of denial at first, then promises of vengeance on the one who dared
to touch their sister. He expected their reaction of course, having seen how they were so
protective of Ginny. He himself felt anger towards the bloke; but what truly amazed him was the
rage Bill was displaying now. Out of all of them, he was the last person who should judge
Ginny.

Bill was something of a legend around Hogwarts during his time, his sexual exploits well known
and admired by the rest of the male population. He had been gifted with such a glib tongue that the
witches had absolutely no chance once he set out to seduce them. It didn't hurt him, of course,
that he was also quite good-looking and possessed with a body no one who was capable of getting
O's in all his OWLs and acing the NEWTS should ever possess. To see him now, so worked up, was
a thing to behold. If he didn't know any better, he could swear Bill was feeling guilty over
Ginny's condition, but why he would feel that way he would have to talk to him to find out.

“There is going to be no wedding,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly, looking at her husband
pointedly.

Simultaneous shouts of `what' reverberated around the cramped living room, making Ginny
cringe in her seat. She knew the telling was going to be bad, and she knew she should have been
subtler than just opening up her mouth and saying `I'm having a baby' to them and then
leaving it up to her mother to explain, but for once her wit had deserted her. These were her
brothers after all, and didn't men have a one-track mind? Of course the wheels in their brains
would start spinning and once they did, all they'd probably come up with would be that
she'd have to have been having sex in order for her to have gotten pregnant and the thought of
discussing sex with them, however vaguely, just wasn't exactly appealing.

“Of course she's getting married,” Percy said pompously, as though the idea of not getting
married with a baby on the way was ludicrous. “She can't get rid of the baby, there's only
a very small window of opportunity for that, and she can't have it alone, she doesn't even
have a real job. She has to marry the bloke that got her into this mess.”

Ginny's chin rose defiantly. To heck with looking guilty, this was her life they were
talking about! “I'm sorry you think the only choice a woman has when she gets knocked up is
marriage, Percy, but I have to disabuse you of the notion that I *have* to marry the father of
my baby. Because I won't. And nobody is getting rid of my baby either, least of all me.
*I* am having this baby; *I* alone will take care of my baby. I don't care what you
all think of me because of this, and I won't take it against you if none of you will ever speak
to me again, but I'm a grown woman who can make up her own mind, and my mind is made up.”

Six stunned faces were gaping at her like fishes out of water. Hearing their sister talk so
forcefully to them was a surprise. Sure, when she was younger she was a hellion in her own right,
not as much of a troublemaker as the twins were, but she could hold her own to them. She didn't
quibble about letting you know her opinion about things and was always trigger happy with her wand.
But all of her previous stubbornness was all about petty, inconsequential things, something easy to
give in to since they were not harmful and were sure to please her. Staunchly refusing marriage was
not trivial, however, and her tone clearly suggested that she was very serious about her
decision.

“If you had no intention of marrying then why the heck did you let yourself get knocked up?” Ron
asked furiously, his face red.

Ginny sighed in frustration. “I didn't *let* myself get knocked up, Ronald, it just
happened. Did you think I wanted to get pregnant? Because I assure you, it was the last thing on my
mind at that moment.” She watched as Ron's face turned redder as her answer registered on him
and she shook her head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Ron, it only happened once. You don't
have to look at me as though I make a habit of shagging some boy every chance I get.”

“Who is it then? You never did tell us who this fellow was who couldn't keep his pants
closed,” Fred demanded. He looked at his twin as an evil grin touched the corner of his lips.
“I'd like to introduce him to Mr. Smiley and see how he likes touching what he shouldn't be
touching.”

“And what? Have you setting Mr. Smiley on him?” Ginny shuddered. She didn't even know who or
what Mr. Smiley was, but anything that could put that smile on the twins' face could not be
good. “No thanks. I like him just the way he is, thank you.”

“If you truly liked him, then why won't you let me arrange the marriage?” Arthur Weasley
piped in and Ginny barely controlled the urge to groan in despair.

“I've already explained to you, Arthur, don't let's get into this now. You promised
that you wouldn't be pushing Ginny into changing her mind,” Mrs. Weasley said to her
husband.

“But Molly - ”

“No buts, Arthur, leave Ginny alone. You of all people should understand her decision. It's
not so different to what we had to go through ourselves and I will not have you conveniently
forgetting about it just because it's happening to your daughter now.” She fixed her children
with a frosty glare. “I understand that you all feel impotent for having failed to look after your
sister, but there is no need for that. Everything happens for a reason.” Her eyes softened as it
settled on Ginny. “Your sister needs you; is your anger so great that you are ready to abandon her
now when she needs you the most?”

They all fell into uncomfortable silence, digesting what the Weasley matriarch said. She had
been right; even though it wasn't said out loud, they all thought they had failed to protect
their sister. They had been guilt-stricken with what had happened to her back in her first year at
Hogwarts and were thankful that there hadn't been any lingering after effects with her exposure
to something so evil. They had told themselves that there was no way they could have prevented
Lucius Malfoy from slipping her that diary, and her from using it as the demands of school and
being away from England was something that took up most of their time. These excuses, however, no
longer hold true; they were all out of school, Bill had requested a transfer from Gringotts and now
had a flat in London, while Charlie had made it a habit to drop by at the Burrow everyday after a
long day taking care of dragons in Bulgaria. Fred, George and Ron spent more and more time at their
respective jobs but still lived at the Burrow, their mother wouldn't have it any other way.
They hated to say it, but they hadn't felt it necessary to keep watch over their sister since
they knew for a fact that she didn't have a boyfriend, hadn't had a boyfriend since Dean
Thomas. It came as a blow that because of their neglect, someone had seen to it that they were
going to regret their complacency.

It was Charlie who broke the oppressive silence; he left his corner and walked over to Ginny,
sitting down beside her and taking her into his arms.

“I'm sorry Gin,” he whispered, “for being a complete git and ignoring how you must be
feeling.” He pulled away to look at her more closely. “I got so caught up with the news of the baby
that I forgot you were my sister first above all else. Your happiness comes first and foremost and
I'm sorry if my denseness made you feel bad.”

Ginny hugged her brother back. “It's okay Charlie, I don't blame you really, any one of
you. I'd be angry too if I were in your place.” She smiled tremulously at him as he wiped a
wayward tear from her face. “I just hate to be the cause of dissension in our family, I could never
live with myself if that'll happen.”

Simultaneous reassurances rang from everyone in the room, the previous discourse forgotten as
they all assured Ginny that nothing she could ever do would make them turn their back on her. She
was humbled by their loyalty to her; even Ron, who was the worst when it comes to the idea of his
sister and dating in the same sentence, assured her that he would be there for her should she need
him for anything. She had never felt more grateful than that moment for belonging to such a loving
and devoted family and even if it took her forever, she would be making amends for regretting even
for one moment that she bore the name Weasley.

Molly Weasley looked at her children, huddled together, and felt justified once again for the
choices she made more than 25 years ago. She looked up as her husband came over and stood by her
side, drawing her into his arms as he too looked over the family they had managed to create
together.

“Thank you.”

Arthur was surprised and confused by his wife's quiet expression of gratitude. “For
what?”

“For being who you are; for loving me, for giving me a choice, and for not giving up on me. I
can't imagine what my life would have been like if you hadn't made me see what I would be
missing.” She snuggled into his arms and sighed contentedly.

“I think I have a good idea, Molly,” Arthur said, giving her a kiss on her still bright red hair
as they looked over their children, “I think I have a very good idea.”

Seven young people were too engrossed in their reconciliation to notice their parents. As all
six boys converged on Ginny, she could not help but feel that everything was going to be all right
after all; she had her family, and that was all she would ever need.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Nice night, isn't it,” Charlie said quietly as he stood beside his brother, looking up at
the clear night sky.

Bill nodded without bothering to turn and acknowledge his brother's presence. It had been a
difficult night and he had been too worked up to feel the pull of sleep. Instead of tossing and
turning on his bed, he had gone out and had done some soul searching, something he had never done
before, or ever felt the need to.

“So.” Charlie picked a piece of rock and flung it past the wooden fence of the Burrow's
yard. “Wanna tell me what it was all about back there earlier?”

Bill didn't even blink and Charlie admired that about his brother, his stoicism. He had
waited all afternoon and the better part of the night to talk to him. After the rather eventful day
in the Burrow, they had all decided to spend the rest of the day together; how ironic that it would
take devastating news to get them together in one place. It was clear to see on their parents'
faces that they were happy to see all the Weasley children united in such a way and to some degree,
Ginny's pregnancy had a lot to do with that; the other reason was unspoken, but they all knew
they were one in planning to maim and dismember the unfortunate fellow who didn't know any
better than to lay their finger on the lone Weasley female.

But through the afternoon's happy reunion, Charlie could not help noticing that Bill
didn't seem to be sharing in their lightheartedness. He was cool and rather stilted; he would
look at Ginny with sad and regretful eyes and was more apt to stay away from their company. This
was not ordinary behavior for Bill Weasley, the suave and articulate oldest child among the Weasley
brood. And he was truly worried for his brother. In any other family, sibling rivalry would have
been the norm, especially if the children were so close in age to the other, and truth be told,
Charlie had a lot to be envious about with Bill. But they were Weasleys, and to hear it said in the
world where they live in, they were a weird lot. Proof is in the fact that Charlie, despite there
being only two years difference in their age, looked up to Bill and took pride in his achievements.
He was his big brother, and to borrow one of Fred's oft repeated mockery of their stalwart
brother, Bill Weasley was a prince among men and never you doubt it. And yet tonight, for the first
time in his 26 years, he saw his brother not as the indefatigable man he was, but one who was
vulnerable and lost, and he didn't like how it made him feel.

“Ginny's news was a shock. I was angry. End of discussion.” Bill's voice was cool and
collected, practiced.

Charlie shook his head as he picked up another rock and examined it absentmindedly. “No, it was
more than that. Your reaction was too extreme, not like you at all. It was almost as though you
blamed yourself for what happened?” He threw the rock as hard as he could past the fence. “The only
question is: why?”

Bill's face tightened. “Drop it, Charlie,” he warned, his tone low but dangerous, his body
tightly coiled as if ready to spring.

Charlie eyed him shrewdly and came to the conclusion that his first impression was correct. “No.
I don't know about you Bill, but none of us is at fault here. Heck, we shouldn't even think
of this as a problem.” He ran weary hands through his hair and sighed. “Okay, maybe this is a
problem, but we can get through this. It's not healthy to go around carrying guilt for
something that basically had nothing to do with you. Ginny is a big girl, she might not have known
exactly what it was she was letting herself in for but at the end of the day, it's her life,
her choices.”

“Damn it, Charlie!” Bill exploded, his hands balled into fists by his sides. “You don't
understand! You don't know what's going through my head right now and as much as I love
having you for a brother, there are things about me that will make you not want to be related to
me.”

“Bollocks!” Charlie scoffed. “I'm only two years behind you Bill, I was there for most of
your years at school and I don't see what you have to be feeling so guilty about. Just because
you spent more time away doesn't officially make you the black sheep of the family.”

“I'm him, all right, the bastard who did that to Ginny, that's me!” Bill said through
clenched teeth.

Charlie's brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Bill marched over to the fence and rested his tense hands on the vine covered wooden spikes. He
took several deep breaths as he hang his head, his eyes closed as he attempted to shut out the
memory of his sister looking so miserable.

“Bill?” Charlie called to him hesitantly, starting to fear that there was more to Bill's
guilt than he had at first thought.

“The bloke who did that to Ginny,” Bill started to say in a quiet voice, “I'm just like him,
Charlie, I'm no better than him.” He started to shake in his fury, whether at the faceless
seducer or at himself, Charlie didn't know. “All this time, I took what I wanted, took what was
offered, and never bothered to look back. I always tell myself that it wasn't my fault, that
they were the ones who initiated it. But what if I was wrong? What if somewhere along the way, I
hurt someone as much as Ginny's hurting now?” He looked at his brother with sad, helpless eyes.
“What if this is fate's way of getting back at me? Of getting me to see, and *feel*, just
what it's like to be left behind? What if this is all my fault?”

Charlie's eyes had widened in understanding as soon as Bill had started speaking. Merlin
help him, this was the last thing he expected to hear from Bill Weasley, the voice of reason in the
Weasley household.

“Don't go there Bill, don't go comparing yourself to that bastard,” Charlie implored
hotly.

“Why shouldn't I?” he asked harshly.

“Because I know you damn it! You'll never just abandon anyone who needs you! That's the
kind of person you are. Just because you had your fair share of women throwing themselves at you
doesn't make you a bad person. Merlin! Any normal man would kill to have half your luck; it
doesn't make them a fucking bastard. Does it make me?”

Bill's eyes locked with Charlie's; he had never thought his brother had ever felt like
that towards him and after the way he had been castigating himself, he didn't quite know how to
deal with his revelation.

“C'mon Bill, just let it go,” Charlie said wearily. “Ginny wouldn't want you feeling
this way, she'd only feel more guilty if she knew. Do you really want that?”

Bill looked away. “I don't know how, I can't even look at her. How sad is that?”

“Try,” Charlie said simply. “Now come on. It's late, you wouldn't want Mum coming out
and finding you out here, would you?”

“In a minute, I just need some time alone,” he answered quietly.

Charlie sighed. “Fine. But don't you go crying now, you don't want your image ruined
more than it already has been in my book.”

Bill cracked a smile at Charlie's impudence. “Shut it, you wanker. Now go, before I decide
to whip your arse into oblivion.”

“Yeah? You and what army?” he threw at him cockily before sprinting inside the Burrow, avoiding
Bill's playful punch as he called out to him not to stay out long.

Bill stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stared into the inky blackness of night. Charlie was
right; he had to sort himself out if he hoped to be of any help to his sister. He had already
failed her once, he wouldn't be so remiss in his duties as her brother again in the future.

With one last sigh, he followed on his brothers' heels.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Why you've waited this long to visit a Med-Witch I will never understand,” Mrs. Weasley
grumbled as she helped Ginny sit down on one of the plastic seats in St. Mungo's waiting area.
“I kept telling you to have yourself checked out more than a month ago but no, you just kept on
using the same excuse that it's too early. Now look at you!” She looked pointedly at her
daughter's rounded abdomen. “You look like you swallowed one of Hagrid's giant pumpkins.
And you're only three months along!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother's exaggerated description of her advancing pregnancy.
True, she was bigger than she had at first thought women in their third month of pregnancy were but
she wasn't that huge!

“Mum, Healer Johnson assured me when I was here last that the baby was fine. What would be the
point of coming in three weeks later just to be told the same thing?”

“Healer Johnson does not specialize in obstetrics, that's the point,” Mrs. Weasley said
reasonably as she settled comfortably in her chair beside her daughter. “She couldn't even tell
you the sex of the baby. Why? Because she didn't know the proper spells for it, that's
why.”

“Mum, I don't care about the sex; as long as my baby's healthy, that's all that
matters to me.” She shook her head in amusement when her mother just harrumphed at her. It was hard
saying no to Molly Weasley when she had her mind set on something. Trying it was almost an exercise
in futility; how she managed to put her foot down on her demand she would always wonder about.

They only waited a few minutes before she heard her name being called, and together with her
mother, proceeded to the room indicated by the receptionist. Healer Candace Forsythe on a brass
plaque didn't tell her very much about the person that was going to assist her throughout her
pregnancy, but since her short stint as a Healer trainee didn't give her enough time to get to
know the resident specialists at St. Mungo's, she had no alternative but to settle for what was
available.

A tall, willowy brunette dressed in white robes with an easy smile and warm blue eyes greeted
them as they passed through the door. Ginny mentally sighed in relief as she felt positive energies
emanating from her assigned Med-Witch.

“Ms. Weasley,” the Med-Witch said in a friendly voice as she looked over her notes, “I see this
is your first visit and you're well into your 12th week of gestation. You should
have come to see me sooner.”

Ginny had a hard time resisting the urge to stick out her tongue at her mother who was sporting
an `I-told-you-so' look.

“Never mind that now, let's have a look at you. Why don't you change behind that screen
and sit over here when you're ready.” She pointed to a closed in quarter and Ginny immediately
complied, changing from her sleeveless empire style dress that concealed her pregnancy to a white
gown which tied at the back. Once finished, she came back out and proceeded to sit on a high and
narrow examination table and waited for the Med-Witch to tell her what to do next.

“Okay. Lay down for me, please.” When Ginny did so, she took out her wand and said an
incantation she didn't catch she was too fascinated by the light rising from her abdominal
area.

“Interesting,” she murmured, a small smile hovering on her lips. Ginny looked at her mother and
was surprised by the tears gathering in her eyes and the tremulous smile on her lips. She turned to
look back at the Med-Witch as she uttered another incantation and the lights changed to another
color. Her brows drew to a frown when the Med-Witch put away her wand and walked back to her
worktable, telling her she could change again.

Bemused, Ginny did as she was bid and rejoined her mother, who was still looking rather
emotional. Her eyes a study in confusion, she sat on the plush seats in front of the
Med-Witch's desk, waiting for her mother to tell her what had brought such conflicting emotions
to her face.

“Well, let me start by congratulating you, Ms. Weasley,” Med-Witch Forsythe said, smiling at
Ginny beautifully. “It isn't everyday that I get a patient such as yourself. I was beginning to
despair that I would shortly have to find another specialization by the dwindling number of
pregnancies in Great Britain. Now if I had more expectant mothers like yourself, it would be a
whole different story altogether. Ah, I see you don't quite understand what I'm talking
about.” Her gaze darted over to the elder witch who was still in some form of shock. “Mrs. Weasley?
Would you like to be the one to tell her?”

Ginny looked at her mother expectantly. “Mum?” She was surprised when the elder witch suddenly
took her in her arms and embraced her tightly.

“Oh Gin, this is wonderful news, truly wonderful! I can't wait to tell your father
you're having twins!”

Ginny stiffened in shock. Twins? What the bloody hell does she mean twins?

“Twins?” Ginny croaked in complete stupefaction.

Mrs. Weasley pulled back right away, her radiant smile almost blinding. “Yes! Twins! A boy and a
girl! Am I right, Med-Witch Forsythe?”

“Quite so, Mrs. Weasley, and please just call me Candace, none of that Med-Witch stuff now,
makes me feel positively ancient,” she said candidly.

“Twins?” Ginny was having a hard time wrapping her mind around that fact. “Are you bloody
kidding me? How could I possibly be having twins?”

“Ginevra!” Mrs. Weasley admonished. “How many times do I have to tell you not to swear? And no,
it's not a joke, and not a surprise either; twins do run in our family.”

Ginny was slowly beginning to hyperventilate. Merlin help her, when will this nightmare end?

Candace took pity on Ginny and tried to soothe her frazzled nerves. “You don't have anything
to worry about Ms. Weasley, you're in perfect health, and so are your babies. If you're
worried about the whole maternity issue, don't be. We have excellent programs for young mothers
here at St. Mungo's which includes financial aid should you need it. You'll be well taken
care of.”

Ginny shook her head. “It's not the cost I'm worried about, money's not an issue
with me.” She pretended not to see the surprised look her mother threw her way. “It's just that
I'm worried if I would be able to take care of two babies at once. What if I hurt one of them?
What if I'm a terrible mother to them? I've never been a mother before, I'm not sure if
I'd know what to do.”

Candace nodded in understanding. “A reasonable concern and one which I have heard before.
Don't worry, Ms. Weasley, every new mother learns to care for her babies as they go on from day
to day. There's no manual you can refer to in case you're not sure of yourself. Learn to
trust your instinct, it will never lead you astray.” She wrote down something on a piece of
parchment and handed it to her. “I want you to take supplements together with a proper meal,
I'm sure your mother knows what I mean. You may be physically fit now, but it never hurts to
take extra care. Don't overexert yourself; twin gestations are very unpredictable, we
wouldn't want you going into earlier labor more than you have to. And I want to see you again
in four weeks; I want to closely monitor your progress. I have a feeling your babies will be rather
excitable and as such, I want to check their growth as often as possible. Okay?”

Ginny nodded as she stood and allowed herself to be ushered out the door of the Med-Witch's
room. Her mother was talking a mile a minute in her giddiness and she tuned her out, too
preoccupied with thoughts of the twins growing inside of her. Could she do it by herself? Could she
really raise two kids without going batty? Fred and George were twin horrors as kids; she could
clearly recall the many pranks they had visited on her and how she wished she could hex them back
to where her parents had gotten them. What if her twins took after their uncles? Would she be able
to cope with the trouble they'd come up with? Was she right in her decision not to inform Draco
of his impending parenthood?

She was so deep into her musings that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and
walked into a wall. At least, she thought it was a wall. Til it moved. And talked.

“Watch where you're going there, Miss - ” The wall, er, person, trailed off when he saw who
it was he had bumped into. “ - Weasley.”

Ginny blinked. Then paled. Lucius Malfoy. Here. In St. Mungo's. Of course. She really
shouldn't be surprised; after all, whatever malevolent God who had it in for her surely
wasn't satisfied yet with the shit she was currently buried in. Whatever offense she had done
in a past life, she certainly hoped she had made that aggrieved someone as wretched as she was
feeling now. Truly, payback was a bitch in stiletto heels.

Seemingly from a distance she heard her mother talk fast but all she could do was stare at the
man before her. Draco Malfoy's father. Her unborn children's grandfather. She paled even
more.

“You don't look well, Ms. Weasley,” Lucius Malfoy drawled lazily, watching the young witch
nearly resemble death.

“She's not feeling well, yes.” Mrs. Weasley covered for her daughter quickly seeing as Ginny
looked like she wasn't up to speaking coherently or otherwise. “We've just been to see a
Medi-Witch and we're on our way home. So if you'll excuse us, Mr. Malfoy,” Mrs. Weasley
said hurriedly, practically pulling her daughter along.

“Mrs. Weasley, Ms. Weasley,” Lucius said politely as he watched the two women scurry away.

Ginny looked back at the imposing form of the head of the Malfoy family, disbelief warring with
fear on her face. Snapping out of her daze, she tugged on her arm until her mother turned to look
at her inquiringly.

“Since when has Lucius Malfoy been civil to a Weasley, Mum? I'm finding it impossible to
believe that was really him.”

Molly Weasley gave her daughter a fleeting smile. “He's been quite tolerable after the war.
You were still in Hogwarts then so you didn't really know. And I don't know what's
gotten into him. Come to think of it, it was really quite a surprise when he suddenly did a
turnaround and fought with our side to defeat the Dark Lord. Nobody dared question his motives,
though, especially after Dumbledore staunchly backed him up. Whatever it was that made him turn,
only Dumbledore and Lucius know.”

They had reached the apparition point by now. “Do you want to go back to your flat right away or
do you feel like going to Diagon Alley and do a bit of shopping first? The weather won't be
this agreeable for awhile in the next few months.”

Ginny smiled. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than anything, it was shopping. “Do you
even need to ask?” And a second later, they both disappeared with a pop.

Lucius started for his destination again as soon as he saw mother and daughter disappear. His
being here at St. Mungo's while they were here was no coincidence; it was time to have official
proof of his future heirs.

He didn't bother consulting with the receptionist or knocking on the Med-Witch's door
before he barged in; he practically owned the whole institution and the building it was operating
in, there was no need for him to play nice.

The Med-Witch behind the desk looked up in surprise at the intrusion.

“I see news travel fast,” Candace Forsythe said derisively as she sat back on her chair, looking
over her forbidding visitor.

“I'm not here for a social call, Forsythe. You know what I want to hear.”

Dark eyebrows rose in amusement. “Since when are you ever social, Lucius? And don't bother
with the grim look, you know it doesn't work with me.” She straightened her back again as she
became all businesslike. “I don't know why you know so much about the young woman but yes, she
is pregnant. Twins, I might add.”

“Yes, yes, I know that already. Are they healthy? Do you think they'll come to term?”

Candace Forsythe regarded the anxious wizard before her. She had known Lucius a long time, she
had grown up right next door to him and this was the first time he had shown real emotion; in
public, anyway.

“Of course; the twins are very healthy, and rather well gifted. I was surprised at how much
energy was emanating from such babies and at such an early stage of their development.” She took
note of the excited gleam in the blonde's eyes. “Tell me why you're so interested in these
twins, Lucius, and I want to know the truth.” She might be twenty years younger than him, but she
was not someone to trifle with, Lucius had first hand knowledge of that.

Gray eyes flashed with joy at her. “You'd be interested too if it were your grandchildren,
Candace, believe me.” He smirked at the open-mouthed shock on the brunette's face before he
turned and left in the same dramatic fashion he had come. Now, if only the next stage of his plan
were to fall accordingly, he'd be a very happy wizard indeed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ginny walked as hurriedly as she could through the halls of St. Mungo's, horribly late for
her appointment with her Med-Witch. Drat Colin and his sorry piece of arse, she cursed inwardly, as
she stood to the side while a Healer with a gaggle of trainees trailing behind him passed. Colin
had forgotten her appointment with her Med-Witch and had commandeered her entire day for a photo
shoot; she had only had enough time left to swing her bag at him in irritation before she took an
emergency portkey that took her in front of the reception area at St. Mungo's.

As she took a left turn that would take her to the hallway where Med-Witch Forsythe's clinic
were located, she nearly collided with a witch who was too engrossed looking through her bag to
watch where she was going.

“Sorry, I - ” Ginny forgot what she was about to say when she saw who it was standing before
her.

The other witch looked up and for a moment, as Ginny saw the blankness in her eyes, she prayed
to all her ancestors that she would continue not to recognize her. As those same beady eyes cleared
when it registered to her who Ginny was, she knew it was all over for her.

“Ginevra Weasley! Lovely to see you!” Rita Skeeter's eyes roamed all over Ginny, from her
upswept auburn hair, to her perfectly made up face, down to her light peach dress which clearly
showed her advancing pregnancy. The gleam in her eye was something that Ginny knew bore
unpleasantness for her. “My, my, have you been keeping something from the public, Ms. Weasley?” she
asked nastily, her eyes fixed on Ginny's swollen abdomen.

“Excuse me, Ms. Skeeter,” Ginny said dismissively as she tried to push past the horrible
reporter; she only wished the hag would take the hint and leave her alone.

“Why the hurry, Ms. Weasley, surely you could spare an old friend a few moments of your time?
I'm sure everyone would be fascinated to hear about your impending motherhood. I wasn't
aware that you had wed; the invitation must have been lost in the mail.”

“You're no friend of mine, Skeeter,” Ginny said tightly, lengthening her stride as she
neared the door to her Med-Witch's rooms.

“You wound me, Ms. Weasley,” she said dramatically, her tone anything but. “We have been through
so much; the least you could do is grant me an interview so the wizarding readers are apprised of
the current developments in the lives of the heroes of the war.”

Without giving a backward look at the reporter, Ginny entered the Med-Witch's room and shut
the door on Rita Skeeter's face. As she faced her Med-Witch, she knew she hadn't seen the
last of the vicious cow.

Her talk with Candace Forsythe was more of the same; she assured her that the twins were fine,
she was in good form; she asked her some questions about her appetite and her activities and
suggested some exercise she could take up to further insure she remain healthy.

Ginny nodded to all that the Med-Witch were saying, but her mind gravitated more to what awaited
her outside her Med-Witch's doors. When it was time for her to go, she seriously considered
just apparating from the clinic back to her flat but she knew it was not only impossible because of
the wards put up around St. Mungo's, but it would also be very risky for her babies. She tried
to appear as normal as she could when she bid Med-Witch Forsythe goodbye but she knew the older
witch could see that she was unsettled. She quickly left the room to avoid another kind of
questioning from her well-meaning Med-Witch.

As expected, Rita Skeeter was waiting for her outside and as soon as she spotted her quarry, she
didn't waste any time and pounced right away.

“Ms. Weasley, would you mind telling the *Daily Prophet* which lucky wizard fathered the
baby you're carrying? Why hasn't the public been informed that the daughter of the next
Minister of Magic had married? Why all the secrecy?”

Ginny glared at the human parasite dogging her step. If only Hermione had reported this cow to
the Ministry, maybe then the Wizarding world would be a lot less chaotic than it already was. She
continued ignoring the harridan as she walked to the nearest fireplace where she could floo back to
her flat, refusing to dignify her with an answer even when her line of questioning slowly turned
from irritating to downright revolting. She quickly grabbed a fistful of floo powder and threw it
at the grate, yelled her destination and quickly stepped into the fire, the malicious sneer on Rita
Skeeter's face the last thing she saw before the swirling fire obscured her vision. Today was
going to be the worst day of her life, she was positive of that.

As Rita Skeeter happily skipped to write up her story, two owls were immediately dispatched to
two separate destinations. When the first owl was received by its intended, there was an immediate
scramble for the suspension of the following day's edition of the *Daily Prophet*. The
second owl was received with a great deal of anger and the poor bird flew away without bothering to
receive a treat.

Lucius Malfoy's mind was starting to turn methodically again. The message he had just
received was the worst piece of news he had ever gotten in his life, and once he had calmed down
enough, he had immediately sent a missive to his son, asking him to come right away to the Head
office of Malfoy Industries. He had to act quickly, or else everything he had worked for would be
ruined.

As Lucius was contemplating how to properly wring one meddlesome reporter's neck, Draco
walked through the door of his lavish office. Lucius immediately shot to his feet.

“Draco, I'm glad you could come so quickly. I have come to the conclusion that it is high
time for you to learn how to handle an enterprise on your own. So I have decided to send you to
France to oversee our branch office in Marseilles.”

Draco frowned in confusion. “Why the sudden rush, father? I thought you didn't want me to do
that until I reach my twenty first birthday.”

Lucius impatiently waved his hand. “I have changed my mind. You are to leave today. There
won't be a problem with your accommodation since the Chateau Malfoy has been prepared for any
surprise visits. I'll have your things sent to you, you don't have to pack. Frederique is
awaiting your arrival even as we speak.”

Draco was still confused. “Did something go wrong with the operations in our French offices? I
don't understand why it is imperative for me to go right now.”

“Don't question me, Draco. Just go. I will come to check on you as soon as I am able.
I'm sure there isn't anything here that is holding you back.” It was a statement of fact,
but underneath the casual comment, Lucius was hoping that his son would tell him otherwise.

Draco shook his head. “No, no there isn't. Very well, Father, I'll go to France as you
requested. Will you tell mother I won't be seeing her this evening?”

Lucius nodded. “Of course. Now go, I have some important correspondence to attend to and I will
be appeased only once I know that the French situation is being attended to. Go to Hilton and ask
him for one of our emergency portkeys, I've already informed him that you'll be by
today.”

Draco nodded and turned to go to the apparition area of the Malfoy holdings where their
transportation director offices were located.

Once the doors closed behind his son, Lucius sank back into his seat, his hands cradling his
head. Thank Merlin Draco didn't bother looking into his demands that closely, he wasn't
sure if he could come up with a better excuse had that been the case. There were only two things he
had to do before he could feel complete relief. He sent out instructions to his curse maintenance
crew and told them what he wanted done. After that was taken care of, he put on his cloak and
prepared to apparate to the last place he knew he would be welcomed, but he had no other choice.
Before he disapparated, the last thing he thought of was that he hoped he wouldn't be hexed
before he could open his mouth.

The area he appeared in not a few seconds later was not something he particularly liked, nor
ever wanted to visit. He walked through several potholes and overgrown bushes, not to mention that
what seemed to be this house's garden was infested with gnomes.

When he knocked on the rickety door, he wondered if he would be too surprised if the door fell
on his face as he was applying his knuckles to it. Luckily, it opened before that catastrophe could
happen and he came face to face with the last person he ever wanted to see up close again.

“Arthur, we need to talk.”

---------

A/N: Thanks to all those who've reviewed. I'm trying to pace my chapters posting so if
it sometimes take days before you see another one, please bear with me. The upcoming chapters are
going to be longer, and hopefully, better than the previous ones already posted. *So!* Til
chapter 9 then.

-->



9. The Birth
------------



**Chapter 9: The Birth**

Ginny lounged contentedly in the balcony of her suite, enjoying the lights of New York City in
all it's glory. It'd been four months since she had moved here from London and it
hasn't failed to amaze her how different life in America was. Or more specifically, how
different life as a muggle was. Six months ago, she would never have entertained the idea of being
so far away from her family; sure, she had threatened to run away before but she had been desperate
then. But after the scandal that broke out when her pregnancy came to light, it no longer became a
matter of choice between staying and facing the music; Skeeter made sure she only had one.

When Ginny had been four months along, it could not be denied that she was pregnant considering
that she was bigger than the next witch at the same age of gestation. Especially around the middle.
Prior to that month, she had gotten along fine. She had already told everybody who she deemed had a
right to know about her pregnancy and they were all surprisingly understanding in her wish to keep
the identity of the father a secret. It was nobody's business but her own after all.

Then came that fateful day. Ginny could still recall how Rita Skeeter's eyes had lit up as
she stared at her obviously pregnant belly, the thoughts in her head as clear as day: Christmas
came early. For what more juicy gossip could there be than to have one of the heroes of the war
pregnant minus a husband. She was practically slobbering all over Ginny as she bombarded her with
questions that even if she wanted to answer then, which she didn't, she was too furious to even
think about now. The woman was a menace and she needed to be put down like a rabid dog!

When she left St. Mungo's that day, purposely snobbing that sorry excuse of a reporter, she
knew there'd be something about her mentioned in the papers; what she didn't expect was to
be front page material! Really, wasn't there anything more relevant going on in the Wizarding
world? Was the illegitimacy of her children really that significant to the well being of each and
every wizard in Wizarding Britain? And the headline! She still could not help but cringe at
remembering it:

*WAR HERO GINNY WEASLEY* *AND* *ILLICIT AFFAIR BEARS FRUIT!*

And how Skeeter could have possibly gotten a picture of her she would never know.

The backlash that followed was the stuff nightmares were made of. She couldn't walk the
streets without people pointing at her, giving her pitying looks, others disapproving ones. They
were so convinced of the story that they didn't even bother to find out anything about the
wizard named in the article as the father of her child, who turned out to be an 80-year-old squib
emasculated in the last war. At any other time she would have laughed the whole thing off, but
whether it was because of her excess hormones or not, she became overly depressed. She was so down
that it was her own family who suggested she get away for a while, just until the whole scandal
broke. And it was Colin who came to her aid and suggested she go to America, a place so vast that
she was bound to be lost in its hustle and bustle. She liked the idea so much that not two weeks
after the story came out, she fled to New York and has been there ever since.

And Colin didn't let her become idle either. Instead of being a hindrance, he found a way to
use her pregnant state. Living fully as a muggle now, Colin called in his contacts and before Ginny
knew it, she was busier than she had been prior to her pregnancy. She didn't complain though;
she was too occupied that it left her little time to feel sorry for herself. Colin took great care
of her, ensuring that she was eating the right kinds of foods, taking her supplements, and getting
adequate rest. During her photo sessions, or when she was shooting commercials, he was always there
to cater to her every need. If it were not a known fact that he was gay, lots of people would have
already suspected that he was the father of her baby. Then again, there were still the perverse few
who insist on believing in it.

Despite her separation from her family, Ginny came to enjoy her life as a celebrity. It was a
whole new experience to be recognized not for her contributions to the war, but for something that
she had never put too much stock on: beauty. It amused her to no end how people in the business
completely took for granted the fact that she had a brain inside her head, and it suited her
purpose quite well to foster their belief that she was just a face; it seemed to pay more to act
the simpleton.

In private, however, in a place where only Colin was allowed to peek into, she was an investment
genius. Apart from her stint as model and actress, she had also been instructing Colin where and
when to invest their money and thus far, her intuition had not failed her. Colin, her manager,
friend, and financial controller, had told her gleefully that she was already indecently rich.
Before her flight from England, she had already amassed quite a fortune: two million galleons in
her Gringotts account and another six million pounds in the bank of England; both accounts were
untouched and were steadily earning quite decent interests. Just the other day, Colin happily
shoved a sheet of paper in front of her face that made her go cross-eyed, stating that she just
broke the hundred million mark. Colin was so excited that she pretended to be happy along with him,
what else could she have done? Living all her life pinching sickles had taught her that having an
abundance of money was nice, but it couldn't buy you happiness, it couldn't give you
love.

And now here she was, eighteen years old, rich, with babies on the way. Her mother, Molly
Weasley, was due to arrive soon to help her when she gave birth, which was any day now. Her muggle
doctor had warned her that she wasn't likely to reach nine months before her two tykes decide
to come out and join the rest of the world. So, with that in mind, she had owled her mother. She
knew Molly Weasley was going to be surprised at her lavish home away from home and she had finally
decided it was time to come clean to her. Keeping secrets was too much of a burden to bear for any
length of time after all.

She heard the door open and close gently and turned to look at the approaching Colin and smiled
affectionately.

“Hey there, stranger,” she greeted softly.

Colin grinned. “Hey yourself. Guess where I've been.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, an affectation that she knew irked him. “Do you really think we have
time to engage in a guessing game?”

Colin pouted. “You're no fun.” It didn't take but a few seconds for the pout to be
replaced by a grin again. “I've been to see David and guess what? I got you a part in his next
series!”

Both eyebrows were now raised. “See this, Colin?” she said, pointing to her stomach. “I can
barely move, my stomach's so heavy and you expect me to be up and about doing endless hours of
shootings?”

“Nonsense,” Colin said dismissively, “the shooting doesn't start `til five months from now,
which gives you enough time to shape up and be on the move for the part.” He shot to his feet
excitedly. “Picture this,” he said dramatically, hands splayed out in front of him, “you're
playing Natasha, the red-haired temptress with the body of a goddess, the beauty envied by the
gods, with an IQ that would make Einstein weep with envy.” He flashed her a big grin. “Don't
you think it just prophetic? It's like they created the character with you in mind.”

Ginny snorted. “That's a load of hogwash. You'll believe anything with the right price
tag.”

“Honey,” Colin said, confidently crossing his arms across his chest, “I'll believe anything
with the price tag of a million per episode.”

Ginny's eyes threatened to pop out of its socket. “What! Have they gone mad? How could they
spend that much on a bit part?”

Colin's smile was threatening to be permanently glued to his face. “Did I forget to mention
you're going to be the star of the show?”

Ginny sucked in a breath. She loved acting, she was great at it; how could she not when she had
been acting for the better part of her years in Hogwarts. But this - this was too much. The
responsibility of carrying a show was too much for one person, let alone a barely nineteen-year-old
childwoman.

“Do you think that's wise, Colin? I mean, don't you think it's too soon for me to do
that? What if I screwed up? What if the audience doesn't like me and the show folds? It'd
be my fault entirely.”

Colin sat down beside her. “Scoot over,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
“You're going to do great, Gin, trust me. Everyone's gonna see that you're not only a
great actress but a great person as well, and they're all going to love you.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Everything's happening too fast, the good *and*
the bad. I can't help but feel that all of this is temporary, and that sooner or later my good
luck is going to run out on me. I don't want to take others down with me Col, that wouldn't
be fair to them.” She shut her eyes wearily. “I hate being this vulnerable, and dammit, I'm too
young to be this burdened.”

“Everybody's supposed to be vulnerable when they're young, Gin,” Colin kidded, giving
her shoulders a slight squeeze. “Stop looking for meaning in situations where there's none. You
have to grab every chance you get and run with it, it's the only way you can get ahead in life.
Like it or not, life *is* a race, and when you're ahead, sometimes you get the luxury to
look back and offer help where it's needed. That doesn't happen often, believe me, most
people wouldn't think twice about running over others to get to the top. You're special in
that you care about the path you're treading; I don't mind telling you that a lot of people
might take advantage of that kind of generosity.” He raised an eyebrow at her suggestively. “Why do
you think I stick to you like glue? Not because of your winning personality, I can tell you that
much,” he said mock seriously.

Ginny laughed in spite of her gloom. “You know what, I'm starting to believe that you're
only using me.” She put on a pout. “You're such a meanie, pretending to be my friend just for
the money.”

Colin put on his best macho impression. “Sweetheart, if I were into ladies I'd go for you
even if you haven't got a knut to your name. Wanna go make out?”

Ginny laughed uproariously. “Colin, stop, you're making my stomach hurt. I don't want to
go into early labor.”

“Speaking of labor,” Colin said, sobering instantly, “it's time for you to go to bed.
It's late. Since you're one stubborn bint, you have to wake up early tomorrow to meet your
Mum at the airport so you need adequate rest. Up you get,” he finished, pulling her to her feet
gently.

“Yes dad,” Ginny said dryly, letting Colin drag her to her room.

“Now go to sleep and don't make me sing you a lullaby or we're both going to be sorry
for it afterwards.”

“'Night,” Ginny said hurriedly, shutting the bedside lamp off, eliciting a chuckle from
Colin. She knew he wasn't kidding and she didn't care to repeat the experience of Colin
singing her to sleep; the last time he did, she was too horrified and had terrible nightmares
afterwards. No, siree, she could do without his poor attempts at vocal interpretations.

“'Night, Ginny,” Colin called out at the door to her bedroom. Receiving no response, he
quietly closed the door and went to his own room.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Do you see her, I don't see her,” Ginny said, doing her best imitation of a tip-toe made
doubly harder by her huge stomach. Damn Americans and their giant genes!

They had come early to ensure they wouldn't miss Mrs. Weasley's flight and JFK was
packed to the rafters, making it difficult for a person to look for his or her arriving party.
Colin again had offered to pick up her mother today, but she had insisted on accompanying him. It
wasn't everyday that you get to see your mother's expression after her first experience
flying commercial, a.k.a. American Airlines flight 712. and she was eager to commit this day to
memory.

“I see her, let's go,” Colin finally said, guiding her through the throngs of people. Ginny
didn't see her mother, the huge dark glasses she was wearing to afford her some kind of
anonymity becoming more of a bother than a help. It wasn't until they were practically in front
of Mrs. Weasley and she was being engulfed in her mother's arms did she finally see her.

“Oh, look at you!” Mrs. Weasley cried, holding Ginny away from her so she could properly see her
daughter.

“That's a bit hard to do, Mum,” Ginny said, grinning happily, letting her mother give her a
thorough once-over, “but I know exactly what you mean. Merlin, I can't believe how much
I've missed you til now!” Seeing her mother again filled her with so much joy that if she were
able to do it, she'd probably be doing cartwheels in the middle of the crowded airport in her
joy. She felt absurdly happy, having her mother here when she finally delivers her beloved burden,
as though her presence was an assurance that everything would go smoothly.

“We'd better get going before we get caught in traffic. Mrs. Weasley, did you bring any
luggage?” Colin asked as he began shepherding them away from the throngs of people.

“I have all my luggage right here,” Mrs. Weasley said, patting her pocket.

Colin nodded. “Let's go then,” he said and immediately led both women out of the bustling
airport. Ginny kept up a constant flow of chatter, her face alive with so much happiness it tore
away at Colin's gut. He had always wanted to spare Ginny any grief so every chance he got he
urged her to laugh; it was the only way he knew to lighten her up. He hated Draco Malfoy for
getting her into this mess; no matter how Ginny tried to take half of the blame, he knew the blame
should be laid squarely on Malfoy's feet. Ginny was too much of an innocent to know what was
being done to her while Malfoy was a man of the world, a veritable womanizer who could seduce
anybody, be it female or male. She was no match for him when he set out to seduce her, and he knew
it, which made his sin all that graver in his book.

When they were finally outside, Colin led them to a waiting limousine. Mrs. Weasley was stunned
into silence by the luxury of the automobile, her eyes taking in the plush interior of the car. She
had only been in two cars her entire life, Arthur's enchanted Ford Anglia and the cars the
Ministry had loaned them during Harry's fourth year. When they had lost the Ford Anglia, they
hadn't had any spare money to buy a new one.

Ginny, used to the benefits that go with having more than enough wealth, forgot that her mother
was not and just kept on gabbing.

“How's everybody? I get mails from Harry and Mione once in a while, as well as from Luna and
my brothers, of course, but it isn't the same as actually hearing about what they've been
up to all this time. I don't get the *Daily Prophet* here, and my fireplace is not
connected to the floo, so I never get to talk to anyone. I hope there wasn't much trouble for
Daddy after word got out. How are all of you doing?”

Molly smiled at the eager look on her daughter's face. She had been the one person who was
against Ginny's flight and it took her a long time to admit that it was the only solution to
their problem. She had been worried how her daughter was going to cope in a country so far away
from home, living in a world that she had only ever heard and read about. She had envisioned
different scenarios, none of them reassuring, and for the first two weeks of Ginny's absence,
she had been a nervous wreck. Not even Ginny's owls, assuring her that she was faring well and
that everything was all right on her end of the world, could completely dispel the cloud of worry
on her mind. Despite everything that had already taken place, Ginny was still her baby, and it was
not right that she had to stay away and hide like a common criminal.

But seeing her now, so alive and happy, and so obviously healthy, she had to finally admit that
the move was sound. This Ginny talking her ear off now was so far from the wreck that was Ginny
prior to her move from home, that she felt her heart lift. Since part of the reason she worried
about her being so far away was because she feared Ginny's depression might be aggravated by
the abrupt separation, it absolutely boggled the mind how the opposite could happen. Ginny
absolutely *flourished* in this place.

Tapping her daughter's hand affectionately while giving Colin, who was seated across from
them, a smile of gratitude for his part in making Ginny so happy, she answered her rapid fire
questions softly.

“Everybody is just fine, Gin-Gin. And don't worry about your father; the decision to take
his name out of the race for Minister of Magic was one he welcomed, and rather heartily too.” She
grinned as she recalled how her husband celebrated what would have been devastating news to another
hopeful politician. “Harry and Mione have set the date for their wedding and they're really
sorry you would be missing it. They couldn't have it later since Harry has to go undercover in
a few weeks for some mission and Hermione has been promoted to assistant Head Researcher at the
Ministry and would be extremely busy in the days to come. Mione told me you were her first choice
for Maid of Honor and would as sooner just cancel the whole thing if you couldn't be there, but
I told her that that was silly talk and that I'm sure you wouldn't want their day to be
ruined just because you wouldn't be able to attend. Ron is, of course, Harry's Best Man,
and that stubborn boy still hasn't got up the nerve to ask Luna to marry him, said he's not
ready yet. Luna doesn't seem to care, though.” Her brows drew together in a frown. “I'm
worried that Luna might eventually decide that Ron would never commit to her and just give up on
him. I have a feeling that they don't really fit. Anyway,” she said, shaking the silly thought
from her head, “your brothers are fine. The twins are still making trouble every chance they get,
and they still haven't given up hope on finding out who got you pregnant; I do believe
they're nurturing this new product that they would happily test on Draco once they find out it
was him all along. Charlie got himself a girlfriend, introduced her to us just two days ago, her
name's Claire and she's absolutely wonderful. And you know Bill, his still charming the
ladies he meets although I must say, he's been a lot serious nowadays, can't imagine
what's gotten into him. Charlie assured me it was just a phase and since they're the
closest among your brothers, he must be right.” Her eyes rolled in exasperation as she thought
about her third son. “Percy's still working his life away at the Ministry, like he always does,
and we rarely get a chance to see him; he must also be avoiding coming home since that debacle with
the mousse. Don't ask, I don't know how to answer you in any case. Suffice it to say, I
will never look at another mousse in the same way again,” she said, forestalling Ginny's query
even before she voiced it. “That's it, basically; nothing really important happened while you
were away.” *Except that Lucius came over to the Burrow and disclosed some interesting facts
about you and his son.* But Molly Weasley didn't say this out loud.

When Lucius had appeared at the Burrow, she had been afraid of what Arthur might do to the
father of the one responsible for Ginny's condition. The bad blood between the two wizards,
which dates back approximately twenty-nine years, was so tangible as to be almost visible. Molly
could blame neither man for each had their own reason for loathing the other, and since she was
ultimately the reason behind the enmity between not only two, but three families, she opted to stay
out of the limelight unless, of course, they started hexing each other. She knew her husband; under
any other circumstances he was calm and in control of his emotions, but when his children entered
into the equation, no other wizard could equal him in his ferocity and thirst for revenge.

As for Lucius Malfoy; almost three decades might have passed but he was basically the same man
he was at sixteen, arrogant, cocky, and quick to temper. It was never a good idea to get on his bad
side since he could nurture a grudge til the end of time and always felt it within his right to
exact revenge on any slight done against him. She had fervently hoped that the two would never
cross paths again after that fateful clash twenty-nine years ago, but it seemed their children had
made it impossible for them to keep their distance from each other. It remained to be seen whether
the past would be dredged up in order to confront the future, and Molly Weasley nee Prewett neither
looked forward to nor had any desire to find out what additional grief would be heaped upon them
when the dust finally settled.

However, things weren't at all like they seemed. She didn't know whether it was the
length of time passed or the love of a good woman, but she was pleasantly surprised at the way
Lucius had dealt with the issue at hand. It was apparent to her that he was trying his best to
maintain his civility despite Arthur's constant and deliberate jibes and though she thought it
impossible, she begun to see a semblance of humanity in the autocratic wizard, something she had
failed to see before nor ever thought she'd see in this lifetime. Arthur had been skeptical
about his motives, but she felt that Lucius had been truthful and his sincere wish to right a
wrong, no matter how unconventional the method, was done not out of inherent self-interest, but
because it was the only way he knew how to make up for his shortcomings as a father. His
explanation went a long way into appeasing their minds about Ginny, their grandchildren, and the
inevitability of the whole debacle. Somehow, hearing it said that none of them would have been able
to stop their children from coming together was a bitter pill to swallow, but short of choking on
it, they would have to deal with it. And deal with it they did.

It wasn't easy, and she could plainly see how much it took on Arthur's part to call a
truce to their feud for the sake of their children. A man possessed of a kind heart, and an even
kinder spirit, having a constant blight on his conscience in the form of an archenemy took its toll
on him. To be given the opportunity now to let bygones be bygones was unsettling, but he wasn't
one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would still maintain constant vigilance where the
duplicitous wizard was concerned, but for the most part, he was at peace.

For her part, Molly had wanted to ask Lucius more about the Book of Malfoys, but she dreaded
opening that can of worms; the truce was not yet set in stone and rehashing her past engagement
with Lucius would only throw a monkey wrench into that tentative calm they had reached. No, her
curiosity can best be answered at a later time; all that mattered then was that they were of one
mind regarding their stubborn offsprings: Draco and Ginny would be together in the end and they
were going to be happy about it. It was only the how of getting there that was still in
question.

“Did Draco - ?”

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter uncertainly. She knew right away what Ginny wanted to ask.
Lucius had warned her that they would have to tread carefully where the two were concerned; it was
quite imperative that they follow the plan to the letter. The stage was set, so to speak, and she
was in the first act.

“No, Gin, he didn't.”

“Oh.”

“No, no, you misunderstand,” she said hurriedly. “He doesn't know about your pregnancy. The
day before the story came out, his father sent him to France; it was mentioned in the *Daily
Prophet.* As far as I know, he's been there ever since.”

Colin looked sharply at Mrs. Weasley. If he didn't know any better, he could almost swear
the older witch was defending that pasty-faced ferret, which didn't make sense to him. When he
saw Ginny's disappointed face, he knew it was time for a change in topic. She was a confused
person when it came to Draco Malfoy; he didn't know what she would decide to feel for him at
any given day.

“We're here!”

Molly looked out of the car and frowned. She had not noticed how long the trip took from the
airport to where Ginny and Colin were staying, but she certainly never expected to be taken to a
hotel, and from the looks of it, this was no run-of-the-mill hotel.

As she got out of the limousine and followed Ginny through the lobby on the way to the lifts,
she couldn't help but feel awed at the opulence of her daughter's place of residence. The
way she greeted the staff, with such familiarity and open friendliness, was a clear indication that
she was a long-term resident of the hotel and it made her wonder how she was able to afford all of
this luxury. They had never discussed it before, and she had never really asked, but now she was
beginning to feel apprehensive about the kind of life her daughter was living away from home. She
hoped to God she wasn't involved in anything illegal; there as only so much revelation she
could take, she didn't need another one so soon after the first.

When the lift doors closed and the three of them were on their way to the penthouse suite, Ginny
finally noticed the stunned and apprehensive looks her mother was giving both her and Colin. In her
excitement at being reunited with her mother, she had momentarily forgotten that her mother had no
idea about her other life and she couldn't begin to imagine what must be going through her head
right now. She really couldn't blame her; were she in her mother's place, she'd also be
contemplating all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. Setting her mothers' mind at ease would have to
be the first of her agenda.

Ginny sent her mother timid smiles as they waited for the lift to stop its ascent. When it did,
she quickly ushered her mother out into a short-carpeted hallway after thanking the lift attendant
who respectfully gave her a short bow.

“You take care of yourself now, Ms. Welsh, we wouldn't want anythin' happenin' to
the little tykes now, would we?” the middle-aged man said jovially.

“Of course not, Alfred, and I'm sure I have you and the others to ensure I do take care of
myself,” she answered, painfully aware of her mother's gaze trained on her the whole time she
was exchanging pleasantries with the Texan. Colin had just unlocked the doors to their suite and
with a last wave to the fatherly lift attendant, she motioned for her mother to precede her and
Colin. She watched her take a step forward and froze. Ginny looked behind her at Colin and sighed.
It was time.

“Mum, I think there's some things you have to know about me and Colin,” she began in a soft
but firm voice. “I think maybe you should sit down while I tell you,” she said, gently tugging her
over to a plush two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace. As soon as they were seated, with Colin
perched on the arm on her side of the sofa, she began her tale, starting from the train ride her
last year in Hogwarts to how she had agreed to let Colin continue using her as his model. As she
talked, it became easier to detail everything that had happened, leaving nothing out, including her
alias (Moira Welsh) and her current investments and the talks she and Colin have been having about
starting their own company. When she was through, she felt an invisible weight lift from her
shoulders from having revealed her secret. For the first time in almost a year, she had nothing to
hide from one of the most important people in her life and it felt wonderful.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter, who was beaming at her expectantly, and her daughter's
best friend, who was looking embarrassed at his role in Ginny's escapade. What she just heard
was too spectacular to be believed, and if she were anywhere but here right now, she would probably
think they were pulling a prank on her. But proof was looking her right in the eye, and her
daughter may be many things, but she was not a good enough liar to pull this scheme off, especially
on her.

“So that's why you told Candace Forsythe money was not an issue,” Molly Weasley said simply,
giving Ginny a smile full of understanding and love.

Ginny's happiness was difficult to contain as she hugged her mother. If the Weasley
matriarch could understand why she did the things she did, then half the battle was already won in
conquering the rest of her family. This was truly a happy day.

Colin could not be happier for his best friend. All throughout the telling, he had watched Mrs.
Weasley's face carefully, noting the changes taking place as she finally understood the extent
of her daughter's secret life. He let go of the breath he was holding when he saw no judgment
on her face, just acceptance of the life her daughter had chosen to live. He was Muggleborn, so he
was free to engage in any occupation he felt like getting into; he knew pureblood witches and
wizards didn't have the same luxury. More often than not, children of pureblood families had
very limited options when it came to employment: either they were to go work in the Ministry or any
Ministry-related job, or they were expected to go into the family business. Colin knew that for all
that the Weasleys had very limited funds, Mrs. Weasley still expected all her children to get
respectable jobs at the Ministry; hence, her insistence for Ginny to go into healer training. He
saw how disappointed she was and how long it took her to accept the twins' decision to not
finish their schooling and engage in trade, a profession considered unacceptable for purebloods.
When Ginny had wanted to keep her modeling from her family a secret, he didn't let on that he
was aware of her reasons for doing so. He knew that Ginny may be a lot of things, but she was
always loathed to disappoint her mother. Now, he was very thankful that Mrs. Weasley was the way
she was, and for being open-minded enough to accept that her daughter had made her choice, and was
very happy with it.

Colin discreetly left his spot on the sofa and left mother and daughter alone in their reunion.
Mrs. Weasley was staying for an indefinite number of days; he could intrude on them another day.
There was no need for him to worry about his best friend now that her mother was here.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“C'mon Ginny, what's taking you so long!” Colin called from the living room. It had been
five days since Mrs. Weasley's arrival and they had spent the time playing tourists, visiting
all the sites usually frequented by muggles and picking up absurd souvenirs from every place
they'd been to; Mrs. Weasley had said Mr. Weasley would absolutely flip from all the new toys
she would be bringing with her and Ginny had responded by adding more muggle devices for her father
to tinker with. Her enthusiasm about the whole activity had quelled his initial protest; he had
felt that she was too far along in her pregnancy to be gallivanting around so much; Ginny had
responded by smiling at him indulgently then proceeded to drag her mother from one place to
another, her huge stomach jotting out so much it was enough to stop traffic. Ginevra Moira Weasley
gave new meaning to the word stubborn and Colin feared he was aging very quickly by the minute the
longer he spent time with the redhead.

Now, they were on their way to the Empire State building; that is, if Ginny bothered to get out
of her room so they could go.

“Where's Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she emerged from the guest bedroom.

“She hasn't come out yet,” Colin said, perplexed. “It doesn't usually take her this long
to get ready.” He started for Ginny's room. Usually, Ginny was the one eager to hurry them to
get a move on, she was never tardy. Halfway across his destination, Colin felt the hairs on the
back of his neck rise in fear when he heard a scream come from Ginny's room. Breaking into a
sprint, he burst into her room and found her on the floor, writhing in pain. Mrs. Weasley was not
far behind him and immediately rushed to her daughter's side. He stood rooted to the spot, not
knowing what he should do; his best friend looked to be in so much pain and he felt utterly
helpless. This was the first time he had been around an obviously laboring woman and the agony he
was seeing on Ginny's face twisted his inside into numerous knots.

“Colin, go get help. Quickly!” Mrs. Weasley said when she saw Colin still standing by the
door.

Colin was mobilized into action by the urgency in Mrs. Weasley's voice and hurried over to
the telephone to call for help.

Molly Weasley's attention turned back to her daughter, silently praying she'd be able to
keep her calm. She was all too familiar with the amount of pain a woman went through while giving
birth and wished that Ginny would not have to go through several hours of labor; surely she would
not be denied such a small measure of leniency.

“Mummy, help me,” Ginny whimpered, her face screwed up in pain, “it hurts.”

“Shhh, sweetheart, Colin has already called for help,” Mrs. Weasley said, hoping her voice would
soothe Ginny even if a little. “Your babies have decided to come out now. Just breathe deeply,
that's it,” she cajoled, breathing along with her daughter.

“But it's still too early!” Ginny said in between breaths.

“Remember what Med-Witch Forsythe said? Twins usually don't reach full-term,” Mrs. Weasley
reassured her agitated daughter. “I was also only eight months along when Fred and George decided
they wanted to come out and play. And you know how that turned out,” she added wryly.

Ginny giggled and then gasped as another contraction hit her. “How long?” she asked when the
pain subsided.

Molly hesitated; she didn't want to lie to her daughter and tell her it wouldn't be long
now; there was no telling how long a primi's labor lasts. “I'm not certain,” she answered
vaguely, “But just think how good it'll feel to finally hold your babies after lugging them
around for so long. That'll make up for any pain you're going though now.”

“Not if they turn out like Fred and George!” The last of her statement ended in a scream as the
pain assailed her again. She felt like her whole body was on fire and her back was about to explode
from behind her. “Goddamn you, Draco!” she shrieked in agony, her grip on her mother's arm
tightening reflexively.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mrs. Weasley could not prevent chuckling at her
daughter's oath. Damn him, indeed, she thought as she looked at her daughter's mutinous
expression.

“There is nothing funny about this, Mum!” she complained, panting heavily. “When I get my hands
on that albino git, I'm going to make sure he will NEVER be able to do this to another woman
again!”

Mrs. Weasley was now laughing outright. “Oh Gin, you're too precious,” she said, kissing her
sweaty brow affectionately.

Colin paused outside Ginny's room, confused by the sudden change in mood in the short time
he had been gone. Ginny was scowling up at her mother as the latter was laughing her head off. He
would never understand witches. He stepped into the room hesitantly, not sure what he was getting
himself into.

“The paramedics are on their way,” he said to the room at large, his gaze darting from mother to
daughter.

Mrs. Weasley sobered slowly but took charge again.

“Colin, take Ginny's bag. Make sure you don't miss anything. I'll take care of the
babies' things.” She bent over the sprawled form of her daughter, tucking wisps of red hair
behind her ear. “Don't worry Gin, help's on their way. We'll be here, we won't
leave you.” She spent the next ten minutes guiding Ginny through her breathing exercises, ignoring
the pain shooting through her hands every time Ginny gripped onto them too hard. Colin had also
squatted down beside her, a wild and uncertain look in his eyes. Merlin help her if he fainted on
her now, which was a likely possibility with every minute that passed. When they heard the
commotion by the front doors, they both sighed in relief.

The paramedics took charge right away and before they knew it, Ginny was on her way to the
hospital.

“We'll be right behind you, honey,” Mrs. Weasley called out to Ginny as she was carried out
to the lifts. She and Colin then gathered all that they'd need and left as well.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Colin paced the corridors outside the delivery room, anxious to hear news about how Ginny was
faring. It had been twelve hours already and still the twins refused to come out. He knew the
chances were high that something might go wrong, but every time such morbid thoughts entered his
head, he banished them right away. Of course Ginny and the twins were going to make it, he would
kill her if they didn't.

Up and down he paced. He had already refused three nurses who suggested he go down to the
canteen since there was every possibility that the labor process could take all day. He had paled
in horror upon hearing that. A whole day? How could a person last a whole day with that kind of
pain? The nurses had quickly left him when it became apparent that their efforts at easing his
worries had done the exact opposite.

Fourteen hours. He was too preoccupied with all the horrible scenarios running through his head
that he missed the opening of the doors to the delivery room.

Mrs. Weasley watched the worried wizard pace in front of her, an overwhelming sense of gratitude
and love for him flooding her heart. It was clear to her that he loved Ginny with all his being and
his devotion to her daughter was humbling.

“Colin.”

Colin's head swiveled so fast he got a crick in his neck, but he ignored the pain as he
rushed to the exhausted looking woman.

“How is she? Is she okay? Are the babies okay? Why did it take so long? Nothing bad happened,
right? Please tell me nothing bad happened.”

Molly Weasley smiled tiredly. “They're all okay. Ginny's exhausted, which can be
expected, and the twins are fine. Loud, but fine.”

Colin quickly mumbled a prayer of thanks before smiling at her. “Can I see them?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Ginny was asking for you.” She led him into the delivery room
and into a small area and motioned for him to come in. “She's going to be moved to her own
rooms in a few hours, this room is just temporary until they're through monitoring her.”

Colin saw that the small room only contained the basic necessities; two plastic chairs, a
hospital bed and two bassinets. Ginny was lying on the bed but she was awake, a beautiful smile on
her beautiful face. Colin immediately went to her and gently cupped her face.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked softly, looking at her face carefully for any sign of
lingering pain.

“I'll live,” she kidded, her smile never once wavering. “But you have got to look at my
babies; they are just the most beautiful babies you'll ever see.” She motioned to the bassinets
and Colin went around the bed to look at his future godchildren. “Aren't they just beautiful?”
Ginny said, awe in her voice.

Colin looked at the two babies and came to one conclusion: Oh yeah, they were Malfoy's all
right.

“What do you think?” Ginny asked as Colin kept his silence.

His face serious, he looked at his best friend. “They're all red and wrinkly, like little
old men with that white hair of theirs.” He scrunched his nose in mock disgust. “You better pray
they start changing their appearance soon, or the other babies at the nursery just might scream
their heads off in fright.”

Ginny glowered at Colin's jest. “Shut up, you pouf. They're newborns, they're
supposed to look like that.”

“If you say so Gin,” he replied, doubt in his voice.

“Oh go away, I ask you here so you could share in my joy and all you do is criticize how my
babies look. If I could manage it, you'd be sporting a lovely shiner by now. See if I still ask
you to be their godfather; maybe I'll ask Neville, *he* won't be stupid enough to say
something that's so obviously a lie.”

Colin grinned unrepentantly. “I didn't say they were ugly, just wrinkly.” He and Mrs.
Weasley shared a look.

“Hmmph!” Was all Ginny said in reply.

Mrs. Weasley decided to change the topic right then. “Have you decided on names yet Gin?” In all
the time they had spent together, not once had she heard Ginny say what she was planning to name
the twins.

Ginny immediately brightened. “I thought Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne. What do you think?”

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip; she didn't know whether it would be prudent for her to tell Ginny
that she had just basically decided to name the twins after their paternal grandparents. “Those are
perfectly lovely names, dear,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the little boy and
girl. “It suits them very well.” And it was true as well. The Malfoy genes definitely bred true in
her grandchildren and she wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing; she had to
talk to Arthur and Lucius about this new development.

Ginny struggled to a sitting position and sat by the side of the bed, Colin immediately
supporting her shoulders to keep her from falling. She looked down at her two bundles of joy,
sleeping peacefully in their bassinets. “Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne Weasley, my little monsters.
You both look so much like your father,” she said wistfully. “I wish he could see you now; I wish
there wasn't so much keeping us apart.” She reached out and lovingly touched the fuzzy white
hairs on her babies' heads, delighting in its lightness. “I have made a lot of mistakes in my
life,” she said softly, “but I finally did something right.” She laid both her palms over each of
her babies' heart. “All that I am I offer to you, all my love I give you. You are my heart, my
life; I swear you will never want for anything. You are my salvation. Now I make a solemn promise
to you: nobody can hurt you while I have breath in me, no one can take away that which is
rightfully yours. Throughout time and throughout space, may the spirits of all our forebears bear
witness to what has now been promised.”

Colin and Mrs. Weasley exchanged uneasy looks at Ginny's vow. They both knew how powerful
and binding a vow was between a mother and her child. But they were anxious for entirely different
reasons. Colin was afraid as to the lengths Ginny would go to keep her vow while Mrs. Weasley was
afraid of what Ginny's reaction would be once she learned she had sealed her son's fate. By
promising to secure for her son all that was due him, she had inadvertently accepted Luke's
destiny as the next Malfoy heir.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The soft sea breeze blew gently against the fine French lace curtains, its wispy material
seemingly floating perpetually, occasionally getting caught on the corners of the open window
before a new chilly breeze freed it from its temporary confines. It was a clear night, stars
dusting the skies like little sparkling diamonds. Down below, the waves crashed against the sharp
rocks of a steep cliff, the chaotic sounds of breaking water contrasting heavily with the
whispering sounds of the blowing air.

Situated above the cliff, the towering edifice that was Chateau Malfoy stood as quiet as the
night; not a soul stirred to indicate life inside the stone structure, not even the owls and bats
that were the usual creatures of the night. Visible only to wizard eyes, Chateau Malfoy was a place
shrouded in mystery and colored with history. It was as it should be: grand, forbidding and
singularly breathtaking.

“No!” The shout originating from the east wing of the manor reverberated throughout every walls
and crevice, startling every living inhabitant. The owls started hooting, the bats took flight and
the rodents down in the dungeons scurried to find a deeper hole to hide in. The anguished sound was
so out of the ordinary that even the house elves feared to come out and investigate.

The source of the sound sat upright in bed, panting, sweats beading his forehead. What horrors
had visited the Malfoy heirs' dreams must be truly frightening to have put that stricken look
on his face. His gray eyes were so dark it almost resembled the gathering clouds of a violent storm
and his flaxen hair was matted to his head.

“What's wrong, Draco?” The dark-haired witch sat up beside him, unmindful of her nakedness;
she knew she looked good and she knew how to use her body to her advantage.

Still breathing heavily, Draco got off the bed and walked naked out into the balcony of his
room, his mind still replaying the details of his dream. He looked across the blackness of the sea,
desperately trying to make sense out of what he had just dreamt about. It couldn't possibly be
true. Could it? He would have heard about it if it was; he would have already heard from his
*father* if it was. But for four months he had been living with this constant nagging feeling
at the back of his head that something was not quite right. It wasn't even about the alternate
voice in his head anymore, although that was still a problem that would not go away.

“Draco?”

He ignored the witch who sidled by his side, his body not reacting for the first time to the
luscious curves pressed intimately against his. He had more pressing problems to think about and he
was in no mood to entertain extraneous distractions, no matter how lovely they were.

“Celesté, I am not in the best of moods right now. Why don't you go get dressed and go on
your way. I'll owl you tomorrow.” It was an empty promise and a rather cold dismissal, but it
was the best he could come up with at the moment. He didn't even bother looking as the lovely
brunette huffed and walked away, preparing to leave him to his mood. At any other time, he would
have come after her and tried to soothe her pique by screwing her brains out, but not tonight.
Tonight, he had to figure what that dream meant.

And of all the time I need that infernal voice in my head, he chooses not to make a nuisance of
himself, he thought sourly. He had never been able to figure out how to make the voice appear and
disappear, and it was getting decidedly frustrating.

*Someone misses me, I see*, Draco Junior chortled merrily.

“Merlin help me for resorting to talking to myself,” he mumbled irritably.

*Don't worry, mate, I won't tell a soul.* He laughed as though he had just
delivered a particularly wonderful punch line. *So what can I help you with?*

“You know what I need help with.”

*Ah, the dream. Scared you didn't it?*

He chose to ignore its taunting. “What I want to know is what it meant.”

*What do you think it means?*

“Would I be standing here right now, stark naked, if I knew?”

*But we do look good starkers, don't we? Must be all that exercise in bed, does ones body
good,* he said sarcastically.

Draco didn't bother defending himself; the voice had been constantly harassing him about his
sexual appetites and he had learned to ignore it and go on with his preferred activities.

*You're getting rather good at ignoring me, you know that? Never thought you had it in
you. Oh well, I'm still better than you. You know why? Because I know things that you will
never know, things that will make you want to take a leap into that dark, bottomless ocean
there.*

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

*Whatever you want it to mean. As for your dream, can't help you there. I am under strict
orders not to upset the balance of nature. You'll have to figure it out yourself. You're
rather good at that, aren't you?*

Draco knew the minute the voice went away, and he knew he wouldn't be able to call it back.
He didn't really expect to get an outright answer from him, but he had hoped. Now he had to
find the meaning to the dream that had disturbed his sleep. He knew he would not be able to rest
easy until he got some answers. Whether the dream was just that, a dream, or a premonition of the
future, he promised he would find out. This was the first time in the last four months that his
night visions deviated from the norm, and the Ginny in his dream giving birth to his baby,
*twin* babies rather, was not something he could just shove at the back of his mind.

First thing in the morning, he thought to himself, father and I are going to have a little
talk.

-----------------

A/N: Answers to reviews!

**Goldmund:** Actually, there's a chapter dedicated to your question, I believe it's
in Chapter 13. A lot is explained there, not only about the book, but also about the history
between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, so I won't spoil anything by telling you ahead.

-->



10. All About the Malfoys
-------------------------



**Chapter 10:** **All About the Malfoys**

Narcissa Malfoy carefully poured tea into her cup while giving surreptitious glances at her
husband. She couldn't help but notice Lucius' agitation; they had been in one of her
greenhouses yesterday, talking about the party they had attended the night before and the
interesting scene their hosts had played out before them when an owl had flown in and dropped a
letter in Lucius' lap. As soon as he had read the message, he had started getting restless and
jumpy. She had asked him what the note had said but he merely waved off her question with a vague
response. Now, as they were taking their breakfast in the gardens, she could plainly see the
night's rest hadn't helped ease whatever it was that was troubling him. What really had her
worrying more was when he had not gone to the office after receiving the missive yesterday. Lucius
never missed a day of work if he could help it and for him to do so now had her mind working
overtime as to the reason why.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he stared off into space, the fingers of his
right hand drumming anxiously on the arm of his chair, his left leg tapping steadily on the cobbled
floor of the gardens. She could honestly say she wouldn't be too surprised if he would start
raking his manicured fingers through his hair next, his behavior in the past two days was that out
of the ordinary. She was just about to ask him again what was bothering him when he suddenly shot
to his feet. She was so startled by his sudden movement that she spilled coffee on her ivory robes,
the dark liquid staining the expensive material and spreading rapidly. Muttering a silent oath, she
picked up her wand and quickly did a cleansing spell before the damage became irreparable.
Satisfied that she was once again immaculately clean, she looked up at her husband to give him a
piece of her mind to see him finish reading another letter and a breathtaking smile light his face,
making him look light years younger than his forty six years. She didn't have enough time to
ask him what caused him to smile before she was yanked out of her seat and twirled around the
spacious gardens in an impromptu waltz. She greatly wondered what his irrational behavior meant,
but the happiness radiating out of her husbands entire being made her decide to leave off her
questioning; she rarely ever heard Lucius laugh and she wasn't about to cut short his joy. They
whirled around and around, laughing together like teenagers at their first ball.

“Well, this is a sight I never expected to see.”

The amused drawl halted the couple's dance in mid step and Narcissa clung to her husband,
breathing heavily, but smiling nevertheless. She felt perfectly content in Lucius' arms as she
watched her son walk up to them purposely. She didn't notice the drastic change in her husband,
the way his body had gone rigid and the way he hastily shoved the piece of paper he had been
holding inside his trouser pockets.

“Draco! This is a wonderful surprise. Why didn't you send word that you were coming?”

Draco stopped in front of his mother and gave her a peck on the cheek before straightening and
looking his father straight in the eye. “I had something to discuss with Father that just
couldn't be put off another minute, Mother.”

“Business, I suppose,” Narcissa stated matter-of-factly as she walked back to their breakfast
table. “Well,” she said as she sat down, “do come out and talk to me when you finish your business
with your father. Tell me about how you're doing in France; I haven't been to visit in
ages.”

Draco nodded. “All right, Mother. I'll see you in the study in five minutes?” He said to his
father who had on his patented Malfoy stoic look.

“Five minutes,” Lucius murmured in reply and watched his son walk back inside the Manor, leaving
him and Narcissa alone again. He didn't know what it was Draco wanted to talk about. He was
quite certain he didn't know anything about Ginny or the twins; the repelling spell he had had
placed on him and the offices of Malfoy Holdings as well as the Chateau Malfoy was invincible, he
had made several modifications to the spell he had created more than a decade ago and was immensely
proud of its strength and power. No, whatever it was he wanted to talk about, it wasn't about
his heretofore-unofficial family.

He went to his wife and gave her a short but deep kiss. “I'll be back shortly,” he whispered
against her lips, his hands cupping her upturned face lovingly before he turned to follow his son
to have their talk.

Narcissa looked at Lucius' departing back, her face flushed. Even after all this years, she
still could not believe that she had made that man love her. After their rocky start, it seemed
their marriage was doomed to fail.

Narcissa tried to keep the memories at bay but against her wishes, her mind wandered back to the
turbulent first ten years of her life as a Malfoy.

When she had married Lucius, she knew she was not what he wanted, nor needed, and it had broken
her heart. She knew of his engagement to Molly Prewett of course, and was one of the many who
thought the older witch was a fool for choosing to elope with a pauper rather than marry the
richest and most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world. She had been eight then and her favorite
thing to do was to eavesdrop on the conversations of her sister's friends. If they had known
she had been listening in on them, they would have been properly horrified seeing as their topics
for discussion were, more often than not, unfit for an eight-year-olds' tender ears. Through
them, she heard all about Lucius; his wealth, his good looks, his prowess in the bedroom. She heard
about his temper, his ruthlessness and his regard for the purity of one's blood. As a little
girl, she had been terrified of him. She had never met him; children were not allowed to mingle
with adults in parties where the elite members of society flit around like colorful butterflies,
and she had been vastly relieved by it.

As the years passed, and she continued to hear about him, her fear grew to fascination. Here was
a man who knew what he wanted and didn't quibble about his means of getting it. At twelve, she
read all about him, admiring his shrewd business sense and feeling inordinately proud for him when
he became the youngest ever to be given the Businessman of the Year award by the Association of
Wizard Entrepreneurs. He was twenty three.

It was inevitable that their paths would cross and at sixteen, it did. During the reception of
her middle sister Bellatrix's wedding to Rodolphus Lestrange, she finally got the chance to see
him in person. He was everything she had pictured him to be and her young heart could not help but
fall in love with him. To her, he was like an angel, with his white blond hair and pale skin, his
slate gray eyes burning with so much passion. He was so beautiful that she made a fool of herself
by going mute when Bellatrix dragged her in front of him and ordered her to keep him company. He
had looked at her from his towering height, his eyebrow raised, his lips quirked in amusement at
her stunned expression, and she had ran. She cursed Bellatrix for embarrassing her that way all the
way to her bedroom, vowing she was never coming out again as long as she lived. If it were not for
Andromeda, her kind and sympathetic oldest sister, she probably would have stayed in her room until
she was eighty. Dear Andromeda, she knew right away what had upset her and had hastened to reassure
her that what she was feeling was normal for any girl her age. She shouldn't have felt such
kinship with her, after all, their father was having talks with Lucius' father to marry them to
each other, but she clung to Andromeda like Devil's Snare, pouring her bile out on her
attentive ears.

Two days before Andy's engagement could be announced, she ran away with a Muggle-born wizard
by the name of Tonks. She had felt such anger towards her sister; how could she humiliate Lucius in
that way? How could she justify choosing a Mudblood over that of a Pureblood? She loved her sister,
but she was never going to forgive her for doing that to Lucius.

When her father had come to her after they realized what Andy had done, she had been shocked at
her father's solution to the problem: the announcement of the engagement would push through,
but instead of Andromeda, Narcissa would be announced as Lucius' intended. Her father
didn't even ask her if she wanted to marry Lucius; it seemed to her that he wasn't taking
any chances that another of his daughter would defy him and had made the decision for her.

She had privately danced a happy jig; she couldn't believe she was going to marry the man of
her dreams! Of course there was her seventh year in Hogwarts to finish first but after that,
specifically a week after graduation, they were to marry in the private chapel at Malfoy Manor
where all Malfoys had been married in for generations. The last term of Hogwarts couldn't seem
to fly fast enough to suit her and the week's wait after graduation was pure hell. She could
only breathe again after the last rites had been performed and they were finally man and wife. He
was all hers now and she was going to show him that he would not regret marrying her. She had a lot
of plans for how their life together was going to be and she couldn't wait to begin living out
those plans. It didn't take her long to find out that her dreams of their life together were
only that, dreams. Like sandcastles, once the tide set in, the first wave tumbled the whole
foundation of the castle. Much like what Lucius had done: the first strike of his cruel tongue
shattered her illusion about her marriage. She should have known, knowing him the way she did, she
really should have known.

Lucius Malfoy, heir to the vast Malfoy wealth and prestige, was still in love with Molly
Prewett. After almost ten years, his head was still full of the petite redhead. He was obsessed
with her and Narcissa could not hope to compete with a woman who had not wanted to enter the game
in the first place. She was vain enough to point out that her looks were far superior compared to
that of the redhead, and yet she couldn't seem to get her husband to look at her with even the
slightest bit of intensity with which he looked at the other witch. She watched as he brooded over
the woman he lost, and her heart broke every time he made love to her, his eyes closed as he pumped
his life seed into her welcoming body, and every time, *every single time*, when he climaxed,
he would call out Molly's name. She could never refuse him when he wanted to relieve his lust,
even knowing the pain he would be inflicting on her, and she refused to call their joining as
anything but making love. She was willing to endure that kind of humiliation and pain, for not
having him in her arms, even for just the few minutes it took him to finish his business with her,
was even more unbearable. She loved him, she would love him for as long as she lived.

When she got pregnant, she wasn't too surprised when he treated her pregnancy as just
another part of their marriage and not something to be celebrated. He stopped coming to her bed and
she cried silent tears as she would sometimes find stray hairs on his robes that were neither his
nor hers, and smell fragrant perfumes that were not his cologne lingering on his skin. She never
called his attention regarding her discoveries; she was only his wife after all, just another
acquisition. She never voiced the thought, but she envied her sister's marriages; Andy was
blissfully happy with her husband Ted, and no matter how twisted their relationship was, Bella and
Rodolphus were devoted to each other. She had learned quickly that she had only herself to depend
on; she could never dishonor her marriage vows by revealing that her life was not the fairy tale
others believed it to be.

When she gave birth to Draco, she had wanted so much to care for her son herself, but Lucius had
decreed that that as not done in the Malfoy family and she had sadly handed her son over to the
servants and watched as he grew distant from her. If this was another of Lucius' ways of
hurting her, he was succeeding brilliantly. If he was making her pay for marrying him, then she had
more than doubled her payment of her nonexistent debt.

Lucius had stopped coming to her altogether after the birth of their son. He had said that he
had his heir, there was no need for them to spend any more time together more than they had to. She
had stayed silent as he talked, biting down on her tongue to keep from blurting out that he
certainly had no trouble bedding any random witch that came his way. It would not be productive and
would only serve to make him look at her with even more indifference.

When Draco had been almost a year old, Lucius was implicated with the Death Eater movements. She
stayed by his side, defending him from any and all accusations hurled his way. She knew deep down
he was involved; his anger at the Muggle-loving Weasley who `stole' his woman fueling his
desire to eliminate all Mudblood and Mudblood lovers for which Arthur Weasley was well known for
being. But she was his wife; it was her duty to stand by him. When he was cleared of all charges,
he had regarded her loyalty as his by right and then proceeded to go on as he used to before. He
was discreet though, she had to give him that; his affairs were all kept quiet. But it was hard for
her not to know about his infidelities; how could she fail to know when he would occasionally take
his mistresses in the Manor and install them in his bedroom until he tired of them. The first time
she heard them, she had thought somebody, a servant maybe, had been injured in his room and
immediately rushed to find out what happened. What she saw was enough to scar a person for life:
her husband, stark naked, was enthusiastically fucking a woman she had never before seen, and it
was her that was making all the noise as Lucuis' engorged penis slammed between her wide opened
thighs over and over and over again. She had never seen him this excited in bed, he had
*never* been this excited in bed with her, and she was rooted to the spot, fascination,
horror, pain, and misery battling for supremacy inside her battered heart. She watched as the
nameless woman started screaming she was coming and like slow motion, watched as Lucius abruptly
pulled out of her and brought his mouth down in between the woman's thighs; from her vantage
point, she could clearly see her husband's tongue lapping between the woman's folds, his
teeth playfully biting at her clitoris, three of his fingers mimicking the harsh penetration of his
penis. She watched as the woman finally found her release and her husband, like an obedient pup,
lapped up the juices that flowed between her slit. And if that wasn't enough, after he had
thoroughly drank from the woman's release, he had then knelt on the bed and offered his
monstrous member to the woman's mouth. But before she could wrap her mouth around her
husband's penis, she had looked over at the connecting door of the bedroom and saw her,
Narcissa, standing there looking at them with large, pained eyes. She had smiled maliciously at her
as she mentioned her presence to Lucius, and as Lucius turned around to look whether she was really
there, her lips closed around the head of his penis and all Lucius did was give her one dismissive
look before he was fucking the woman's mouth, setting a rhythm first before his eyes returned
to look at her. It was a sight nobody should be made to witness, a wife watching another woman
servicing her husband in the most bestial of ways, and the husband, not bothering to stop the act
and seemed to be taunting the wife with something that she could never have. When he came, Lucius
made his lover swallow all his semen and then gave her an open-mouthed kiss as though wanting to
taste himself inside the woman's mouth.

When they collapsed on the bed together, Narcissa had finally regained the use of her legs and
lit out of there, past the connecting door, out of her bedroom and into her son's chambers, her
slim body shaking with heartrending sobs as she crawled beside Draco, hugging him to her body
tightly, willing the pain to go away.

The following day, Lucius had acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary and was eating his
breakfast with his lover sitting in the place where his wife should have been. She had ordered her
meals sent to Draco's room for the remainder of that day, not wanting to see her husband with
that woman acting as though she was the lady of the house.

The second time she heard the same noise come from her husband's rooms, she had instructed
her personal house elf, Plinky, to move her things to the south wing. She could learn to live with
her husband's infidelity, but she drew the line at hearing him go at it all night like a raging
bull.

When Lucius had learnt of her move, he had looked at her briefly but didn't say anything,
which was fine with her. She was tired of crying all the time and if it weren't for her son,
she would have already left him and filed for an annulment of their marriage. She had all the
grounds she would need: he hadn't touched her in more than three years, he was not without a
mistress at any given time, and he was abusive emotionally. But there was her son to think about,
so she stayed. She loved Lucius, yes, but there was only so much a heart could endure before
self-preservation sets in and it decides to just stop. She didn't think it was possible to fall
out of love; she guessed it was just another assumption she had foolishly made.

Everything came to a jarring end when she had to defend herself against one of his friends. All
of her misery and anger and hate came to the fore and for the first time, she killed. That was the
final straw and amidst Lucius' loud outrage at having his wife assaulted in his own home
several hours after the fact (he was off to another part of the Manor fucking Merlin knows who that
time), she left the Manor with her nine year old son with every intention of never setting foot in
it again. Because of Lucius' neglect, his friend had thought her fair game. She couldn't
have that. She was a Black before she became a Malfoy, and Blacks valued their honor above
everything else. If even her husband couldn't keep her safe in her home, then she was going to
find safety in another place.

She had ended up at Andy's doorstep and her sister had gladly welcomed her and her son. She
didn't even have to explain why she had left Lucius, Andy took her word for it when she said
her marriage was a mistake and she was correcting that mistake now.

Against their father's wishes, she filed for an annulment of their marriage. Lucius had
raised hell when he was served with the petition. He made all kinds of threats, believing that his
docile wife would fold under the pressure. He had forgotten that he had married a Black and Blacks
were also notoriously known for their stubbornness. He had changed tactics halfway and started
wooing her back, sending her flowers and chocolates and gifts of jewelries and clothes. At any
other time, Narcissa would have easily given in. But she was wise to him now. It took her ten years
to finally realize she could never make him happy and now she was all right with that. She was
ready to move on.

Narcissa Black was a beautiful girl at seventeen; Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was a stunning woman
at twenty-six. As soon as word was out that the fairy tale Black-Malfoy marriage was ending with no
happily ever after in sight, wizards crawled from all over the woodwork, wanting to be the one to
take the place of Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa wasn't foolish enough to believe that they were
enamored with her simply because of her beauty; the thought of besting the wealthiest and most
influential wizard in Britain probably had a lot to do with their determination to succeed where
they thought Lucius had obviously failed. She welcomed their admiration, though; after a decade of
being made to feel like shit dumped on one's shoe, these men's admiration was like manna
from heaven. Then she met Jonathan Foster.

A year had already passed since her separation from Lucius and for the first time, Narcissa
truly believed she could learn to love again. Jonathan was Lucius' complete antithesis: he had
blue-black hair, violet eyes and tanned skin. He was different from all the others in that he
didn't force her to get on with the business of choosing a replacement for Lucius. He was just
there, ready, watching, willing to lend his assistance whenever a particular suitor became too
physical. She could talk to him for hours about anything and he would listen until her voice grew
hoarse. What pleased her even more was that Draco also seemed to like him. Her son had been
close-mouthed about his opinion on her separation from his father, not remarking about what his
father did to cause the split nor did he resent his mother now for showing partiality to one man.
The annulment proceedings were almost at an end and his mother would be a free woman once
again.

One night, after her marriage to Lucius was finally declared null and void and she was in her
room having a good cry, she finally confided to Jonathan the life she lived as Lucius Malfoy's
wife for ten years and after the telling, he held her in his arms until her tears were spent. And
then he kissed her.

Kissing him was so different to how she felt whenever Lucius touched his lips to hers; with
Lucius, she felt her heart pound so hard and so fast she had feared she was having a heart attack.
With Jonathan, she was calm, able to step out of herself and view the scene like a rational person
conducting research. She hated feeling like that, especially towards this man who had been nothing
but supportive of her, and she tried to push herself to enjoy what he was doing to her body. He was
touching her in places only Lucius had ever touched before and she saw again in her minds eye how
her ex-husband's lover had reacted to his touch and tried to emulate her now as Jonathan strove
to give her pleasure.

When he had taken her hand and led her to her bed, she didn't say anything even though her
mind was screaming at her that she was making another monumental mistake. When he pushed her down
on the bed and slowly covered her body with his own, she pushed the guilty feeling her subconscious
tried to drum into her and told herself that Jonathan deserved to have this night; even if she
could never love him like she first thought she could, even if she could never let this happen
again, she owed it to him after his kindness to her. When he slowly and reverently took her clothes
off, she smiled tremulously at him and gave him a slight nod when he asked if he could touch her.
She closed her eyes as he slowly drew her nipples into his mouth, suckling at them like a babe in
need of nourishment. She arched her back, offering herself to him without reservation. She
pretended that it was another man worshipping her body, making her feel like a goddess. When she
felt his hand move and touch her between the legs, she bit her lip as she parted her thighs, giving
him access to that which all wizards sought to gain entry. She kept her eyes closed as Jonathan
stroked her soft flesh gently, pinching and pulling and despite herself, she moaned at the
unexpected pleasure that rushed through her. This was a safe area for her, Lucius had never done
this to her before and so she had no basis for comparison. When she felt Jonathan ease off her, she
opened her eyes to ask him what was wrong but he only gave her a smile before, still fully clothed,
he worshipped her another way. She gasped in mortified pleasure as her thighs parted wider to give
him more room for movement, her hips rising involuntarily at the pleasure his mouth was giving her.
So this was what it felt like to have a man's mouth in between your legs, she had thought as
she writhed on the bed, her hands grasping onto Jonathan's head to keep him in between her
thighs. She could not think while he was doing that, and that was the best place for her. When his
tongue drove into her slit and touched that certain spot, she felt like she had died and gone to
heaven as she experienced her first orgasm.

She was still coming down from her high when Jonathan hastily shed his clothing, throwing them
all over the room in his hurry to get naked. When he came over her body again, she closed her eyes
tightly as she felt him drew both her legs over his shoulders, elevating her hips from the bed and
position his penis at her slit. She felt the head prod at her opening and knew then that there was
no going back for her. With one hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt in her body and she gasped
at the intrusion; nearly ten years of celibacy was not a good prelude to vigorous fucking, and
Narcissa knew what was happening between her and Jonathan was only fucking. She felt unused muscles
complain at the intrusion of a hard object and she bit her lip harder to keep from crying out in
pain. Her thighs were starting to cramp as Jonathan continued to thrust into her, ignorant of her
quiet distress. She almost sighed in relief when he finally lowered her legs and lay down behind
her. But her relief was short lived when he lifted her leg over his own and he pushed himself back
into her sore body. She hid her face on the bed as Jonathan continued thrusting into her sideways,
his grunts mocking her. He didn't seem to mind that she wasn't participating in the
activity, he was content doing all the work.

When he finally came, she sobbed her relief. He kept making small thrusting motions against her
body until he was completely spent before pulling out of her and lying beside her on the bed, his
arms going around her middle. She wanted to go to the bathroom and wash away his semen that was
trickling slowly out of her body but she didn't want to offend him. So she pretended to have
fallen asleep. That was a bad idea.

Barely an hour after he had spent himself, she felt him poking at her buttocks and knew he
wanted to do that to her again and she didn't think she was up to it. When he started kissing
her neck and fondling her breasts, she tried to roll out of bed but he caught her by the waist and
sat her on his lap, her back to him. She looked at him quizzically until she felt him raise her
hips and lower it over his hardened penis. Jonathan was certainly imaginative, she thought as he
brought her body up and down on his shaft. They were positioned like that, Jonathan kneeling on the
bed, his buttocks sitting on the soles of his foot, with the fingers of his left hand stimulating
the flesh between her thighs while his right guided her movements; Narcissa sitting in front of
him, thighs parted on each side of his, hands braced against her thighs as she rode him, head
thrown back as Jonathan lavished kisses on her neck, when Lucius came into her room without
knocking and saw his wife being thoroughly fucked by another. She had frozen when she heard the
sound of the door opening and the sight of her ex-husband, in her room, while she was otherwise
engaged, made all the guilt come back at her all at once. She could only look at him as Jonathan
continued thrusting in her body, his pace getting more and more erratic as he was preparing to
come. Belatedly she realized that what Lucius was seeing was the scene she had witnessed him engage
in their home, but she only felt shame as she saw his eyes turn cold with fury.

When Jonathan started coming, Lucius came forward with a terrifying roar and yanked Narcissa
from the bed, effectively detaching her body from that of the convulsing man under her. She felt
her legs give way so she clutched at the posts of her bed and watched in shock as Lucius started
beating Jonathan to a bloody pulp. She was horrified to see him engage in a Muggle fight, his fist
connecting unerringly on Jonathan's face. Lucius was making so much noise that she wasn't
surprised when a hand suddenly wrapped her in her dressing gown and watched as the bulky Auror Andy
had married haul Lucius off the unconscious and naked wizard. She stayed clutched to the bedpost as
Ted levitated the unconscious Jonathan out of her room ostensibly to floo him to St.
Mungo's.

Even after everything had quieted down again, she still looked at the place where she had lain
with Jonathan, and then later, when Lucius had pummeled him to within and inch of his life. She
stood there, and if she could, she would probably not move again. But the heavy breathing behind
her was not about to go away, and sooner or later, she would have to face up to what she had done
tonight, not only to Jonathan, or to Lucius, but especially to herself. She had prostituted
herself, and no amount of kindness shown by any man should have to be paid by engaging in something
so sacred as sex. She had grown up believing that a woman had to be married to a man before she
could let him take liberties with her body, but her behavior tonight did not reflect on the woman
she was. No matter Lucius' sins, she had no right to do that to him.

Lucius had asked her why. Why she did what she did? Why she had let Jonathan continue invading
her body as he stood there looking at them? His question could mean anything and so she decided not
to answer, she couldn't, even if she had wanted to. She didn't know the answer to why; if
he had asked how, she could have honestly answered him: Very easily. Because it *had* been
easy; easy to forget who she was, *what* she was, in the face of repaying her debt. He knew
all about paying a debt, after all, she paid for hers with him for ten years and it wasn't even
hers to pay; she was indebted to Jonathan, and friendship and a handshake was not payment enough
for all his help. At least, that's what she told herself then.

When Lucius grabbed her arms and apparated them out of her bedroom in Andy's house back to
Malfoy Manor, she didn't struggle. He couldn't do anything to her now; he couldn't
shame her anymore than she was already feeling shame for herself. He was furious at her apathy and
he dragged her into his room and tore her dressing gown from her body, cursing when he saw the many
signs of another's hand on her pale body. He had shoved his face to hers then and told her if
she wanted to be treated like a whore, then he was the one who was going to oblige her, before he
shoved her on the bed and used her like he used his other women.

Narcissa was wrong again when she said she couldn't feel any more shame; what Lucius did to
her was enough to make her want to just close her eyes and never open them again. He was a man
possessed, and she did that to him. He might no longer be her husband, but he was still the father
of her son and no small piece of paper was going to change that. She had finally cried after he
left her, crying for all that she had thrown away in one night, for all that she was going to lose
because of one thoughtless decision.

Narcissa blinked away the tears that gathered in her eyes as the memory of all the pain she and
Lucius had inflicted on each came back to haunt her. It was a miracle, the way they had found each
other after the storm. She believed she could never forgive Lucius for the way he had treated her
the first ten years of their life together, and she had believed that Lucius could never forgive
her for sleeping with another man. Lucius had locked her in his room for a month, and she was only
allowed out when he had brought her back to where it all began, the chapel at Malfoy Manor, and
married her again without even asking her if she wanted to. Then he locked her in his room again
for another month, visiting her only when he wanted to fuck her. When he had finally allowed her to
roam freely around the manor, she had been too used to her confinement that she preferred staying
in his room to going out.

It was Draco who finally forced them to confront their feelings.

Draco was eleven then and was preparing to go to Hogwarts. Two weeks before he was to leave,
Blaise Zabini, his best friend from the moment he could manage to crawl out of his playpen, had
come over to spend the remainder of the summer before leaving for school. His parents, Giorgio and
Carlotta Zabini, had to go to Italy on business and they didn't trust their son to behave
himself all alone in their house.

As was her norm, Narcissa had spent most of her day in Lucius' room. Maybe it was the
monotony of her life, but that day she had been restless and on impulse, she had changed into a
light summer dress and had gone exploring the greenhouses and the gardens. As she was going back to
the manor, she heard her son and Blaise talking and decided to greet them before going back in. But
she stopped abruptly as soon as she heard what they were talking about.

She had never heard Draco say anything about what was going on in the manor and she was loathed
to ask him. But as she listened in on him now, talking in a disinterested manner about how his
parents were at odds with each other, and how he wouldn't be surprised if they separated again,
brought home to her all that they had done to him; and when he scoffed at his best friend when
Blaise asked if his parents no longer loved each other, he had asked what love was since he has
never seen it, Narcissa realized that the one person they had caused the most damage by her and
Lucius' dysfunctional marriage, was their son. She didn't even know when the tears started.
She only noticed they were there when strong arms wrapped around her and she was sobbing into her
husband's chest. How she could have missed his presence she didn't know, but she was glad
he was there. Despite all their problems, he had been the one constant in her life and though she
knew he hated her, she wasn't going to turn away his offer of comfort.

Lucius had carried her back to his room; she was still too distraught to walk on her own. What
happened afterwards was the last thing she had expected. As Lucius had placed her on what was now
their bed, he had lain down beside her and continued to hold her close against him. As her crying
fit subsided, his hold on her tightened and he then whispered the words she didn't know she had
been wanting to hear from him. It made all that had happened seem so remote then, hearing him say
he was sorry. She listened to him talk, her head tucked under his chin, as he apologized for all
the hurtful things he had done to her. He didn't make any excuses for his behavior; he took
responsibility for the failure of their marriage, saying what happened between them was exactly
what he'd wanted back then as he'd been blaming her for trapping him in a marriage he never
wanted. As he continued talking, Narcissa could clearly see then that she hadn't exactly helped
their marriage by being so meek. She hadn't once challenged the decisions he'd made for the
both of them and her submissiveness had made him more and more disrespectful of her not only as his
wife, but also as a person. But when he also apologized to her for pushing her into the arms of
another man, for pushing her to forget the scruples she had grown up with, she kissed him deeply to
stop him from talking further. That wasn't his fault, just as half of the things he had
apologized for were not his fault. They were born with choices and for however long they lived,
they were free to make them. Just as he had chosen to hurt her, she had chosen for Jonathan to use
her body. It was a mistake, yes, and she would live with the memory of that mistake until she
joined her maker, but it had been her mistake to make, not Lucius'. Others may not agree with
her, like Andy, who blamed him for pushing her to have sex with another man, but they were not
privy to her thoughts before the act happened, they didn't know how uneasy she had been before
she decided there wasn't anything she could lose more than she had already lost by letting
Jonathan have free reign of her body. She had thought she'd lost all her honor, dignity and
self-respect when Lucius had openly flaunted his mistresses in her face, preferring their company
to hers; it wasn't until she hadn't acted any better than him that she truly felt the loss
of those virtues. And the shame she had felt was what made her accept all that Lucius had done to
her, hoping that through his retaliation, she could find her redemption. However, achieving
redemption didn't exactly work like that.

Now, when their kiss deepened even more, Narcisa was finally free to let the hurt go. When her
husband started to make love to her; not the quick, jerky coupling of their first year of marriage
or the frenzied, rough and sometimes brutal fucking he had treated her to after seeing her riding
Jonathan; but the kind of union that was full of love and caring and passion, she responded in
kind. When he entered her body, she finally forgave herself for her betrayal of him. And when she
finally heard him say he loved her, she had finally found her redemption.

She'd thought it would be awkward, at first, for Lucius to try and show his love for her,
but it had been surprisingly easy. She felt it every time he smiled at her, every time he talked to
her; with every little incongruous touch he was able to convey his feelings. He told her he loved
her every time they made love and every hour in between.

When Draco left for Hogwarts, Lucius had taken a week off from work and they had spent the
entire time in bed, exploring each other's bodies like they hadn't done before. He taught
her what pleased him and she found she could do anything with him without any reservation. Without
even trying, she became the woman he had only dreamed of having: she was a perfect hostess at
parties, she could manage the running of the manor blindfolded, and she was a slut in bed. She knew
letting go of his obsession with Molly Prewett would be hard for him and she didn't demand it
from him; for as long as she had a small measure of his love for the other woman, she would be
perfectly content.

Narcissa took a deep breath as she looked up at her home, her eyes directed at the area where
Lucius' study was located. They'd been married twenty years and they had a fine son.
He'd been devoted to her much as she'd dreamt he would be the past eight years of their
marriage, but until seven months ago, she hadn't been sure if she had his love completely;
until seven months ago, she had been pretending that she could make do with half his heart. Seven
months ago she had at last seen that she was no longer playing second fiddle to another woman. Now,
Lucius was hers and she would do anything to make sure nothing could change that again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*

Draco waited for his father to appear, showing none of his impatience as the seconds slowly
ticked by. After his dream the other night and the little scene Celesté had treated him to after he
asked her to leave, he hadn't been able to fall back to sleep. It was impossible, of course, he
would have already heard about it from the many correspondence he received from his friends,
acquaintances and Pansy. Gossip had a way of reaching the furthest corner of the globe, especially
a gossip as explosive as that one.

Lucius watched his son from the doorway of his study, finding it difficult to believe that this
man before him was already a father himself. He hadn't been a good example of a father during
Draco's formative years and it had already been too late when he had decided to stop taking out
his anger on his family; Draco was already unfamiliar and doubtful of the finer emotions every man
goes through sometime in his life. And his wife, he had lost her to another. It was a dual blow he
found difficult to take; he had vowed he wouldn't be like his own father: cold, cruel and
indifferent, but that was exactly what he had turned into. Making amends was not familiar with him
and the way he had tried to make Narcissa forget that other man's imprint on her body was not
something he looked back on with any fondness. He had been brutal; simply put, he had raped his
wife repeatedly, several times a day in a period of one month. When his anger abated somewhat, he
had married her again against her wishes and made her a virtual prisoner of his room, her body his
vessel for releasing his sexual needs.

When he was forced to confront his true feelings for Narcissa, it had been hard to put a name to
his possessiveness of her and the depth of his rage at her infidelity. He had avoided it too long
but in the privacy of his thoughts, he had to admit that he just might have fallen in love with his
wife and it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He knew she had been in love with
him before and he had then set out to make her love him again. As long as they were married, he had
a chance to make it up to her and he used every chance he had to do just that. Though he hadn't
shown it, he had been overjoyed when Narcissa welcomed him back into her arms and her unbridled
love for him coupled with her response to his touch, was instinctual, almost primitive. He was
content for the first time in his life.

He hadn't been a successful with Draco. Maybe he had gone about reshaping his beliefs the
wrong way, but Draco proved to be as headstrong as he used to be. Against his wishes, his son was
slowly turning into himself and it was all his fault. Draco was still young though, just nineteen.
As his father, he wasn't going to give up on him yet.

“Draco.”

Draco immediately turned to look as his father walked to his desk and sat down on the
upholstered leather chair behind the huge, oak desk, his hands laced together as they both regarded
each other.

“So. How's Malfoy Holdings faring in France,” Lucius asked after motioning for Draco to
sit.

“As well as can be expected,” Draco answered, shrugging, “considering there wasn't anything
wrong with the operations there. I don't understand why you sent me in the first place.”

“Ah, Draco,” he said, smiling slyly, “it's always best to start out early where business is
concerned. The branch offices of Malfoy Holdings in France are neither small nor too large for you
to handle; the perfect kick-off point to when you take over after I retire.”

Draco could not detect any lie in what his father said so that, at least, made his presence in
France legitimate. “I *am* considering moving the main office from Marseille to either
Versailles or Paris; Marseille is a good place, but it's too far from the commercial districts
of France. I expect to double, even triple, our income potential if we make the move.”

“And the availability of women in such a populated place was not a factor to your decision, of
course,” Lucius said sarcastically.

“Of course,” Draco said smoothly, ignoring his father's sarcasm. He knew Lucius' opinion
of his favorite pastime and until he was otherwise prepared, he had no intention of settling down
with any one witch soon. “It's always best to have a variety of choices and you know distance
is not really a problem. Unless you want me to settle down with Pansy.” It was a threat that could
effectively make his father back down.

“Good point,” Lucius drawled, conceding that anybody was better than that Parkinson chit.

“But I didn't come over to talk about business or my sex life, father,” Draco said, wanting
to ease his mind about the dream.

“I was wondering when you were going to get around to that. So what, exactly, made you come home
all of a sudden.”

Draco looked at his father intently. “I had a dream.”

“A dream?” Lucius said slowly, his brows arched in amusement.

Draco ignored him. “It wasn't just any dream. I dreamt that Ginny Weasley gave birth to
twins, a boy and a girl. That wouldn't have bothered me if I hadn't been the father of
those twins.” He watched his father closely for a reaction. “And the funny thing is, in the dream,
I didn't know I had become a father. Ginny had supposedly not wanted to tell me, and had no
plans of ever telling me. Tell me, father, what could this dream possibly mean?”

Lucius was having a hard time keeping his cool under his son's assessing gaze. He was
stunned at what he'd just said; his connection with his mate was far stronger than he'd
anticipated and he couldn't decide whether it was a good or a bad thing.

“I never thought you placed too much stock on divination, Draco,” he answered smoothly, showing
none of his anxiety.

“I don't, nor do I believe in dream interpretation,” Draco answered. “But the dream was
almost a fact, it wasn't vague the way most dreams are. It was almost as though I dreamt it as
it was happening, which didn't make sense at all. Ginny's anger at me was real enough, that
much I know, but the other stuff happening was surreal.”

Lucius blinked. “And why would the girl be angry at you, Draco?” He was fishing for answers;
Lucius knew only when Ginevra conceived but not the circumstances surrounding the whole affair, and
he hoped Draco would be forthright with him as he had been with all the other women he had been
intimate with.

Draco sighed. What difference does it make if his father knew what he had done to Ginny Weasley,
it was over and done with. “Because I had sex with her and made her believe I felt something for
her, then I practically chucked her out of my flat. She wasn't too happy about that.” He
marveled at the nonchalance with which he related the incident.

Lucius breathed heavily and closed his eyes so Draco wouldn't be able to see the fury in
them. There was a vein throbbing at his temple and if he didn't calm down, he just might have
an aneurysm. It was worse than he'd thought. He had thought they'd just had a little
misunderstanding or the usual tiff about old family rivalry; he would have preferred they quarrel
about their different standings in society. But no, Draco had to go and do a Lucius, and if Lucius
had a difficult time making it up to his wife, how could he possibly find a way for Draco to make
amends to a woman he had no hold over except through that tenuous connection, and he knew for a
fact how easy it was to break that connection, thinking of his own mate who had ended up married to
another man, and he didn't want what happened to him to happen to his son. The cycle had to be
broken sometime and he was determined to break it with Draco.

“Stupid. Boy.” Lucius enunciated each word carefully, his tone quite menacing.

Draco was taken aback by the anger his father was displaying. He knew he had somehow taken a
liking to Ginny Weasley, but why was he almost trembling now with his rage. “What's wrong,
Father?”

“What's wrong is that you will never learn, Draco,” Lucius said carefully. “What if that
dream of yours was actually true? What then?”

Draco's jaw tightened. “I don't know. Find her and marry her, I suppose. What else is
there to do?”

“And then what?” Lucius snarled. “Treat her like I treated your mother for years? Blame her for
taking away your choice? Push her to find love somewhere else?” He slammed both palms down on his
desk. “Dammit, Draco! Why are you so determined to be like me? Why are you so determined to ruin
your life? Do you really want to have the kind of marriage your mother and I had? Do you?”

Hate flashed in Draco's eyes. “I am *nothing* like you,” he said with quiet
ferocity.

Lucius slowly stood up and bracing his arms on the desk, he leaned slightly over it and glowered
at his son. “Aren't you? From where I'm standing, I see no difference.” He straightened and
crossed his arms across his chest. “You are exactly like me, Draco, whether you like it or not. The
question is, are you man enough to accept what you've become?”

Draco shot to his feet, his hands balled into fists at his side. “Shut up! Shut the hell up! I
will not listen to another word out of you.” He turned around and started to walk out of the
study.

“And where do you think you're going?” Lucius asked, afraid of what he might decide to do.
“I want you to answer me, Draco,” he demanded when he refused to answer his question.

He didn't bother turning around as he answered his father. “Find Ginny, that's where!
One way or another, I will find out what I want to know.”

Lucius was on him at once, grabbing his arm and whirling him around, halting his retreat. “You
will *not,* do you hear me! You will leave that poor girl alone or I swear you will have me to
contend with!” he tightened his one hold on Draco's right arm. “You have done enough, Draco,
enough. There is *nothing* for you to find out. Ginevra Weasley did not bear you any child, so
stay away from her.” The lie rolled off his tongue like honey. “And if you know what's good for
you, you'll heed my warning; you don't want me as your enemy, believe me.” He let go of his
arm and smoothed out his features, his voice evening out. “You're so insistent that you're
different from me. Why don't you prove it? Go back to France. Do your work. Forget about this
*dream* you had; it was only a dream. Leave the Weasley girl alone while it's still
possible. You can never make her happy. Give her a chance to find love with somebody else now,
rather than later. You would only be crushing her spirit if you make her feel like an adulterer.”
*Like I did your mother,* but he didn't say it out loud.

Draco felt that rage rise in him again as another mentioned Ginny finding somebody else to love.
He had no control over his reaction to that suggestion and it was getting out of hand. As time
passed, the likelihood of Ginny already in love with another was making him feel more and more
desperate. But he didn't know why he felt that way. What had she done to him to make him long
for her? He couldn't even bear to be with a redhead, avoiding them like the plague since the
color reminded him too much of her. He had gone through a record number of witches, hoping that one
will eventually make him forget about her, but it hadn't happened so far. She was still the
standard by which he compared all other women, and they were all coming up short. If he hoped to
ever feel content again, he would have to settle for something less. Then again maybe his father
was right. He'd had his chance and he'd screwed her over. He could never accept that he was
like Lucius and there was only one way of proving that he wasn't: he couldn't let Ginny
turn into Narcissa.

Draco nodded. “All right, father. If you say there's no reason for me to seek her out, then
I believe you.” He rearranged his rumpled sleeve. “I have the answer I came here for. Do tell
Mother I'm sorry for not stopping and talking to her. Under the circumstances, it would be best
if I left now.”

Lucius breathed a sigh of relief. “Very well, Draco,” he said, nodding agreeably.

Draco took out a paperclip from his pockets. “Goodbye, Father.” He activated the portkey and was
gone in an instant.

Lucius stared for a long time at the spot where Draco had disappeared. Their confrontation had
been a close one and Lucius dreaded what might have happened if Draco hadn't listened to him.
His right hand sought out the note Molly Weasley had sent him, informing him of the birth of the
twins. His fist closed around the note protectively.

“I'm sorry, Draco, but your children don't need you as you are right now,” he whispered,
voice full of contrition. “When you're ready, you'll have your family. I promise.” Then he
went out to rejoin his wife, the tension shedding from his body at the thought of his Narcissa.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*

Draco appeared in his bedroom at Chateau Malfoy and without taking off his coat, he flopped
across his bed. He had a lot to think about, the most troubling of which was his father's
allegation that he was turning into him. That was not true, it couldn't be true. He had hated
the man; for a long time he had watched, silent, as his father slowly ruined their family. He saw
how he treated his mother and though he wasn't exactly close to her, Narcissa was still the
only parent he had known growing up. Lucius was there, but he was more like a malevolent spirit
that only brought them grief with his presence. He hadn't been as cruel to him, after all, he
*was* his heir, but he had still treated him with indifference and that, in a sense, was more
damaging than if he had struck him physically. At least, if he did that, he would have been
acknowledging that he, Draco, was a real person, and not just an entity.

Over the years he had learned to adjust; he had gotten used to his mother crawling beside him in
bed as his father was off somewhere else in the manor fucking some whore. He had learned to sleep
through her tears as she held onto him. He had learned never to venture to the west wing of the
manor where the master bedroom was located. Come to think of it, he had learned a lot from his
father, but it doesn't necessarily mean he had turned into him. Did it?

*You shouldn't be too hard on Lucius, he's trying his best to make up for what he had
done before.*

The voice was back again. No rest for the wicked then.

*There's more to Lucius than you will ever know, Draco. He hasn't led a charmed life;
it doesn't excuse his behavior, but it greatly affected it.* He paused and Draco seemed to
sense that he was deliberating whether to continue saying what he wanted to reveal about his father
or leave him wondering what he meant again. *He was a lot like you now, when he was younger. So
stubborn, so sure that he could have all that he wanted, he didn't understand that what he
wanted wasn't necessarily what he needed. He also refused to accept that he might be like his
father, much like you're denying that you're like him, and because of that, he made one
mistake after another. He was too filled with anger and resentment that he almost ended up with
nothing. It wasn't until he was able to let go of what he wanted that he saw what it was he
needed, and what he needed was no longer there for him. You can't know how that frightened him.
He's a proud man, and proud men don't beg, but he was ready to do that. When he realized it
was the only way for him to get what he needed, he was prepared to beg. Do you have any idea how
humiliating and difficult that was for him?* A pause, then a sigh. *No, I suppose you
don't, I don't suppose anybody does until the end. Don't make the same mistake, Draco,
let go of the hate. You'll find you will be a better man for it.*

He didn't want to believe what Draco Jr. was telling him, it was too fantastic to be real.
Lucius Malfoy, begging? When hell freezes over, maybe, not before.

*So skeptical. Why is it that young people of your generation think they know everything
already? That belief is what gets you into deep shit you know. I have seen the same thing happen
over and over again and it's really quite disheartening.*

Draco straightened on the bed. “What do you mean *my* generation?”

Draco Jr. didn't say anything for a long time but Draco waited patiently, suspicion coursing
through him.

*I guess I haven't exactly been forthcoming with you about what I really am,* he said
sheepishly. *I've been around a long time, Draco, I've seen a lot of things happen. The
Malfoys are not a bunch of happy campers, let me tell you that, and so many of them end up
miserable and alone because of their pride. The Malfoys are a proud bunch of autocrats, and it
hasn't been easy guiding your ancestors through their paths in life. I have failed so many
times in my task it's a miracle I'm still around. My last Malfoy took forever to heel that
I was almost eviscerated into the great unknown. Why do you think you were able to suppress me for
so long? I'm lucky you're not as intractable as that fellow or you might never have had the
pleasure of knowing thyself.*

Draco snorted. “So, what? You're the Malfoy's mental ghost? Guardian? What?”

*I am whatever you want me to be, within reason of course. I multitask most of the
time.*

Draco thought of something that could trap him and came across the solution to his dilemma with
his question. “If you really know all about the Malfoys, then would you mind telling me why my
father was so protective of Ginny Weasley?”

*Sneaky, sneaky, Draco, did you really think I'd fall for that trick? You forget I've
dealt with far more unscrupulous men than you; you're just a baby taking his first steps
compared to them. But I'll give you a little something to ponder about: when Arthur Weasley
finally becomes the Minister of Magic, you will be given the chance to either gain your happiness
or forfeit it. Lucius has already set the wheels in motion. There's nothing you can do. And
that's all I'm saying, you won't extract anything from me anymore so don't bother
with the questions.*

Draco got off the bed and shrugged out of his coat. “Just one more, and it doesn't have
anything to do about what you just said.”

*Fine.*

“You said the last Malfoy you had worked with worked you out. Who was it?”

*Why, your father, of course. Can't you think of any other mule headed Malfoy?*

-->



11. A Little Gathering
----------------------



**Chapter 11: A Little Gathering**

“Mr. Malfoy?”

No response. The nervous looking wizard glanced to his left and sent a pleading look to the
second highest in command at Malfoy Holdings. The said wizard looked away, smirking.

No help from that direction then. The executive vice president for operations of Malfoy Holdings
screwed up all his courage and tried again.

“Mr. Malfoy, sir?”

Lucius Malfoy sat back on his high-backed leather chair, his elbows resting comfortably on the
arms, his fingers steepled together. He was presiding a meeting with all the top executives of
Malfoy Holdings, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was counting the minutes, literally,
until he could be where he really wanted to be, instead of here, surrounded by people he didn't
particularly like but had no choice but to work with.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius snapped back to reality. “Yes?”

The vice president almost swallowed his tongue. It was one thing trying to get your boss'
attention, it was quite another when you got that which you wanted.

“Umm, sir, we were just wondering if you concur with this proposal?”

Lucius sighed inwardly. It was truly annoying to have people working for you that spent ninety
percent of their time quaking in their signature loafers if you so much as talk to them directly.
But it was starting to get really hard finding good help nowadays, so even if he wanted to, he
couldn't keep on firing people; his turnover ratio was getting ridiculous.

“I have to look over it first before I make my final decision.” His flaxen brows rose in inquiry
when his executives started murmuring amongst themselves. “Was there something unusual in what I
just said?”

There was dead silence once again and the executive vice president wanted to just slip through
the nonexistent cracks on the heavily carpeted floor of the conference room rather than answer that
question.

“Well?”

*Merlin help me.* “Well, sir, we were just surprised that you wanted to, um, look over the
proposal since, um, you were the one who put it on the table.”

Gray eyes bored into the twitching ones of his third top level executive, and a powerful
headache was threatening to ruin his good mood.

“Then it would stand to mean that I'm in favor of it,” he said through gritted teeth,
straining to keep his top from blowing.

Frantic nods started ensuing from several directions, desperate to pacify their employer. It was
never good when Lucius Malfoy was in a bad mood; heads started rolling when he was in a snit.

Lucius took a deep breath and started counting to ten. He got to four before he decided he'd
had enough.

“If that is all, gentlemen, then you're all dismissed.” He watched as grown men fell all
over themselves trying to get past the doors first. To them, they'd probably gotten off lightly
and they were not about to test their luck any more than was necessary.

“Why do you like to terrorize your people so, Father?”

Lucius looked over to his son who was sitting on his right side, watching him through amused
identical gray eyes.

“I do not terrorize my people, Draco. If they had a bit more spine in their backs, they might
not scurry like so every time I look even the slightest bit displeased.”

Draco shook his head and unfolded his tall form from his chair. “You incite fear with just a
look, Father. They are all afraid you'd make a meal out of them if they spoke one word out of
turn.”

Lucius stood up and threw his quill on the smoothly varnished rosewood table. “They are just
spineless. There's nothing you can do to change spineless people, there's no one sure way
of dealing with them, they either break with the pressure or you keep prodding them to where they
should be to keep them from wetting themselves lest they happen to make a simple mistake.” He
straightened his black Sylvanno Magno robes and gave his son a smirk. “I admire people with a bit
of a spunk to them, Draco, makes for a more interesting existence, don't you think?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Father. Anyway, looks like I'll have to go back to
France earlier than I intended after all.”

“Why?”

Draco frowned. “I can't seem to locate Blaise. I've been to his flat, the Manor, his
last girlfriend's place. I'm still hurting from the shoe that witch threw at me when I
asked her Blaise's whereabouts.” He shrugged. “I've been trying to get in touch with him
for the last three months and he's either avoiding me, or he's dropped off the face of the
earth.”

Lucius pretended to look interested in his son's failure to get ahold of his friend. He knew
exactly where Blaise was, of course, but he wasn't telling, even if he was staring his
mortality through the point of a wand. “I heard he was on assignment with that Potter, something
hush hush, or so I've been told.”

“Assignment? With Pothead? Why would he be on an assignment with Pothead?”

Lucius smirked again. “You don't know?”

“Know what?” Draco asked irritably.

“You know that little *occupation* Blaise decided to engage in at the Ministry?” At
Draco's nod, Lucius' smirk turned positively evil. “He's been partnered with Potter for
most of the year. They've been getting along *famously*, I've been told.” He was
laying it on a bit thick, but it was part of the package.

Draco's eyes narrowed. “Partners? With Potter?” He laughed derisively. “That'll be the
day. He hates that do-gooder as much as I do, if not more. In fact, I'll even put money in it
and say that he's wishing that four-eyed freak would keel over and die every day and every hour
of the week. Getting along famously, my foot.” He continued laughing at the impossibility of the
scenario.

Lucius' eyes gleamed subtly. “Ah, but you've been out of circulation for quite a while,
Draco. Blaise is, indeed, quite friendly with Potter. He has to. If he didn't, then he
wouldn't have any chance at all of winning over Ginny Weasley. You do remember how devoted she
is to him, don't you?”

Draco immediately sobered up. “He's cozying up to Ginny?” he asked quietly, his eyes fixed
quite sternly on his father, trying to gauge the veracity of his statement.

“Of course. She is a very beautiful woman, Draco, *very*. You haven't seen her for a
while, of course, what with you living in France and all, but Blaise is quite taken with Ms.
Weasley.” Lucius flecked nonexistent lint off his shoulder.

Draco's teeth grinding seriously endangered the enamels of his perfect pearls but he
couldn't help himself. His best friend was trying to take his place? His *best
friend*?

“Over his dead body,” he threatened quietly.

“What's that, Draco?” Lucius asked, pretending not to hear what he'd said. It amused him
to see how territorial his son looked; it came with the blood curse, of course, but it was still
amusing to see it up front.

“Nothing,” Draco gritted out more audibly.

“Ah, okay then. Since you're planning on going back to France without waiting to see Blaise,
I'll tell him you were looking for him if I happen to see him at the Ministry. I often see him
there.”

“I think I'll wait till I see him myself after all, Father, there's some things I need
to discuss with him. *Important* things.”

*Not bloody likely.* “He might not be finished with this mission for quite a while Draco.
It usually takes them several months to complete one and you know how persnickety that Potter is
when it comes to his *duties*.” He inserted enough stress on the last part to leave no doubt
that he knew what he was talking about.

Draco gritted his teeth once again. His father was right, of course; if Blaise *was* on a
mission, then it would probably be a long time before he'd be available for anybody.
*Anybody.*

“All right then. If you do see him, Father, can you tell him to owl me right away? I want to see
him, the sooner, the better.”

Lucius nodded. “Of course, Draco. And don't worry about what I said, about Ms. Weasley and
Blaise, I mean. I heard that she's taking an extended vacation out of the country. Blaise
won't have any contact with her for some time as well. That levels the playing field for the
rest out there, doesn't it?” He clasped his hands together in front of him and smiled at his
son jovially, which only made the younger man more wary of him. He knew he was acting strange, and
his statements were contradicting in itself, but he was having far too much fun to care.

Draco eyed his father. There was something really off with him today. “Where are you off to?” he
asked hesitantly.

“Hmmm, what?”

“You're going somewhere,” Draco stated plainly. “You're not wearing your usual business
robes, and you seem out of it today. Where are you off to?”

Lucius waved his suspicion off. “Draco, you're being too suspicious. I'm off to the
Ministry after here, then I'm meeting a few acquaintances at the *Majesty* for a few
drinks, then I'm off to the Manor. Your mother has set a curfew for me, did you know that?” He
threw that in just to throw him off; he didn't really mind Narcissa's request that he be at
the Manor before ten, but his son didn't need to know that.

It was Draco's turn to smirk. “Really?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Really. Now, go. And don't forget to Floo-call your mother once a
week. She's a nightmare when you miss your routine.”

Draco's smirk grew even more. “Anything to ruffle you a bit, Father.”

“Shoo! Off with you, you insolent brat!” He waved his arms at him. He watched as Draco walked
away, laughing merrily, temporarily forgetting his earlier pique.

He waited several minutes to make sure his son was not coming back, before he moved.

“And now to complete my day,” he murmured to himself as he walked over to the wall a few feet
behind his chair. He pressed accurately on a nondescript part of the wall and a compartment slid
open easily. He carefully eased out a black ornate wooden box with an elegant M in ancient script
on the top. He walked back to the conference table, laid the box on it, and reverently ran a hand
over the top. He had been told about this box; in fact, the story behind it had been handed down
from one Malfoy heir to the next for generations, but this would be the first time it would be
actually used. He had mixed feelings about that; he was proud he'd be the first Malfoy to use
it since François Gerard Malfoy conceptualized and actually *created* the contents of the box,
but at the same time he was also ashamed of the need for it. He shook his wayward thoughts away and
opened the box by pressing his right hand firmly on top of the symbol M. There was a click and the
box slid open, the symbol separating neatly from the middle and the contents were revealed to him.
Noting that everything he needed was inside, he closed the box by pressing on its sides firmly and
prepared himself for what lay ahead for him. He had been waiting for this for a long time, and
tonight was going to be the culmination of all his planning.

“Or the beginning,” he said quietly before taking out his wand and with the box safely secured
by his side, apparated from out of the Malfoy Holdings conference room.

Draco quietly opened the door to the conference room and closed it behind him on seeing that
Lucius was no longer inside. He frowned in thought as he walked the length of the room towards the
CEO's chair.

“What are you up to, Lucius?” he asked aloud, his left hand gripping the top of the leather
chair and swinging it from side to side absentmindedly.

He stood there for several minutes, looking blankly at the spotless table before striding
purposely into a section of the wall at the far left side of the room and pressed on it. It gave
way to reveal a cozy room with a well-maintained hearth. Draco went directly for the pot of floo
powder on top of the fireplace.

“William Chauncy's office!” Draco called out and stuck his head inside the fireplace. He
only waited a few seconds before the man he wanted to speak to appeared before him.

“Mr. Malfoy!” The tall sandy-haired man immediately crouched down to eye level with his most
important client.

“I need you to do something for me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I still find it hard to believe you had twins,” Hermione said softly, gently rocking the
sleeping Nicole in her arms.

Ginny smiled at her friend's awed voice. She'd been back at the Burrow for a week now
and Hermione had found one excuse after another to drop by and ogle the twins. She had to admit
that her friend looked good with a baby in her arms, and unbidden, wondered how Harry was coping
nowadays with a wife obsessed with a baby.

“I've actually had sometime to get used to the idea, but I know what you mean,” she said,
carefully transferring Luke to her other breast. The blond infant immediately latched on to his
source of food and suckled greedily. Ginny winced, still not used to the whole breastfeeding
thing.

Hermione pulled her eyes from the adorable little girl napping in her arms and eyed Luke.
“He's a greedy little bugger, isn't he?” she stated fondly as she watched the little
boy's cheeks depress while he suckled.

“Hermione!” Ginny admonished, laughing. “Harry's been a bad influence on you.”

“Did I hear someone mention my name?” Harry came up behind Hermione and circled his arms around
her waist. He dropped a kiss on his wife of four week's shoulders before giving Ginny one of
his disarming smiles, the same lopsided grin that had made many witch's hearts beat
erratically; it did absolutely nothing for Ginny. “You do know watching you feed Malfoy's brat
is a traumatic experience for all of us, don't you?” he kidded good-naturedly, carefully
avoiding looking within the vicinity of Ginny's exposed flesh.

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was unavoidable for everybody to finally have their questions answered
as to the paternity of her twins; once she was back in the Burrow for the twins' christening,
her brothers had taken one look at Luke and Nicole's coloring and all of them had promptly
turned a curious shade of green, before changing into a magnificent shade of red worthy of their
hair color. Then the yells commenced and the `how could you's' and `are you mental' and
not to mention the `fucking ferret-face' started flying all over the place, followed
immediately by plotting on how best to castrate Malfoy. It took a lot of threatening on her part to
get them to back down and even now, she wasn't absolutely certain they had given up on their
plans of mayhem and destruction; the twinkle in Fred and George's eyes, not to mention their
evil smiles, was enough reason for her to be wary.

“You, shut it,” Ginny said lightly, “And stop acting like such a silly prude. It's not as
though you haven't suckled your fair share of breasts yourself.”

“ANYWAY,” Harry said loudly to try to drown out Ginny's voice. He was very red in the face;
he knew sooner or later she was going to bring up his past escapades, he just didn't think
she'd do it in front of Hermione, of all people. “What do you plan to do after today?” He was
talking to Ginny but his eyes were on his wife, gauging her reaction to Ginny's revelation and
not sure what to make of the sparkle in her eyes.

Ginny smirked knowingly. She knew why Harry was desperately trying to change the subject; what
he wasn't aware of was the fact that Hermione was already well aware of his past affairs, not
just the one she was a witness to. After all, it was the reason why she had finally taken a moment,
looked closely inside herself and admitted that Harry was more than just a friend to her. It
explained why she was either hostile or coldly aloof to the girls he had dated, and there had been
a lot of them; Harry's social calendar had been quite full their sixth year and the first half
of their seventh, being the Boy-Who-Lived did have its perks. She was the only person Hermione had
confided in, her rationale being that Ginny knew what it felt like to love him and found a way to
get over her feelings. She had not thought it prudent to correct the older girl and just listened
to her pour her heart out. What could she possibly say to her anyway? She hadn't yet felt that
complicated emotion and prayed not to for many years to come if it was as difficult as Hermione was
finding it. She could not find it in her heart to tell her about how intimate Harry's
relationships really were with those other girls, which proved to be a huge mistake when she found
out for herself and reacted badly. Seeing the boy you love and her then best friend in bed with
another girl was not a good way to greet the Christmas holidays. Their relationship had been
awkward afterwards, to say the least; Hermione couldn't look Harry in the eye and Harry could
not understand why his best friend was reacting that way to what she'd seen. After that day,
Ginny could only watch as Hermione retreated into herself more and more each day. She found one
plausible excuse after another not to spend time with her two best friends and became even more
miserable when Harry and Ron soon just stopped trying to include her in their misadventures.

Seventh year saw a different Hermione. Ginny could not believe the unhappy girl who left for the
summer of her sixth year was the same girl who boarded the Hogwarts Express. If it weren't for
the shiny Head Girl badge proudly displayed on her scarlet Gryffindor robes, she would have never
recognized her. Neither could Harry or Ron apparently, judging by their slack-jawed reaction to her
physical change. Who knew a whole summer could bring so much change to a person? Hermione Jane
Granger, Hogwarts Head Girl and resident Gryffindor know-it-all had become a beautiful young woman,
and more than one male eye appreciated the change.

Being the Head Girl, she had to share living quarters with Draco Malfoy, who was Head Boy, and
thus she was brought into close proximity with the Head Boy's best friend Blaise Zabini. Before
the first week of classes was through, Hermione and Blaise were already dating, much to Draco's
dismay and many of the male population of Hogwarts, attached or not. She had talked with Hermione
about Blaise and the older girl seemed to genuinely like the Italian Slytherin; she didn't love
him yet, but she was hoping to get around to that feeling eventually.

That had been the one time she had seriously contemplated telling Hermione about her developing
feelings for her Head counterpart, but decided against it at the last minute, resolving to nip the
feelings in the bud; it would be a hopelessly one-sided thing anyway, considering that Draco was
already half-way engaged to Parkinson, and if what she saw on the train going to Hogwarts was
anything to go by, matrimony was a foregone conclusion to their relationship. What was totally
unexpected though, was the explosive display of temper Harry had treated them to right before
Christmas break, calling Hermione a traitor to their house and dubbing her the Slytherin whore. It
had chilled her to the bone the way Hermione had answered Harry; she was very calm and outwardly
cool, but she could see in her eyes that it was killing her to be at odds with Harry. It made her
afraid as to what she would get into her head to do next; Hermione was smart, the smartest witch to
walk the halls of Hogwarts, probably, but she had never been reasonable where Harry was concerned,
and it made her a disaster waiting to happen. When she had quietly told Harry she wasn't a
Slytherin whore, yet, but would be rectifying that oversight soon, she knew she had to do something
to change her friend's mind before it was too late. Harry, too, seemed to realize his mistake
and tried to apologize, but Hermione merely turned her back on him, exited the Gryffindor common
room and went back to her own rooms.

It was probably the only time Hogwarts saw a Weasley and a Malfoy work together without
simulating some long ago battle; Ginny, trying to keep her friend from doing something she knew
she'd regret afterwards, and Draco, trying to keep his friend from dirtying his family by
consorting with a mudblood. It was also about the same time she realized that dating other boys
wasn't going to make her feelings for the blond Slytherin go away. In the end, they slipped in
their vigilance and Blaise and Hermione were able to sneak away. If Harry himself had not been
carousing the castle with his invisibility cloak and map, Hermione would have fallen into a trap of
her own making. Thankfully, Blaise had understood right away and left the two combatants in the
Room of Requirement and the rest, as they say, was history.

Looking at them now, Ginny was amazed at the easy way with which Hermione was able to forget
Harry's affairs; she wasn't sure she'd be as forgiving with Draco. But she also had to
concede that they had a very different set of circumstances to deal with; Harry never meant for
Hermione to find out about him and Mandy that way, whereas Draco took great pleasure in telling her
she had to make herself scarce before his girlfriend came by. No, it was not the same at all.

Seeing the pleading look on Harry's face, Ginny took pity on him and obliged his need for a
topic change.

“I'm going back to New York. I have - obligations, there that I won't be able to get out
of anytime soon.” She had kept her answer vague enough to satisfy most asking what it was she does
for a living in New York. Apart from her mother, she wasn't yet ready to take out an ad in the
*Daily Prophet*, announcing her career.

“Oh, I thought you were back for good. Who's going to be helping you out with the twins if
you're there?”

“I have Colin, of course, we do share a place. And I've also hired a nanny to help out. It
won't be so bad.”

Eyebrows rose questioningly. “You must be doing very well there if you can afford to engage the
services of a nanny.”

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. “I do well enough, I guess. I owe a lot to Colin though, I
wouldn't have what I have now without his help.”

“You two have really grown close,” Hermione observed, her eyes seeking out and finding the blond
man who was conversing with Tonks rather animatedly.

“We've always been close in Hogwarts,” Ginny remarked, “but we've grown even closer
afterwards. He's a very important part of my life now; I wouldn't know what to do with
myself if he wasn't around bossing me.”

“Does he still do photography? I didn't see him lugging around a camera during the
ceremony,” Harry asked, looking at the smaller man.

“Yes he does,” Ginny affirmed, smiling. She adjusted her hold on Luke who seemed to have fallen
asleep still latched onto her nipple, but started suckling again when he was jarred. “He made quite
a racket when I told him he couldn't bring his camera with him. Why do you think he's
pouting at the moment? He didn't like it very much when I told him to act like a guest for
once.”

As though sensing they were talking about him, Colin excused himself from Tonks who immediately
nodded and grabbed onto Remus Lupin in case he changed his mind and continued abusing her auditory
nerves once again. He slowly made a beeline for Ginny, his snit still apparent on his handsome
face.

“I hate you. Give me my godson,” he stated, plucking Luke from Ginny's arms after seeing
that the boy was no longer feeding but merely playing with his mother's nipple. His action was
so abrupt that Ginny didn't have enough time to cover herself adequately before the infant
parted from her chest.

“Ahh! My poor eyes! I've gone blind!” Harry yelled, frantically covering his eyes with his
hand.

Ginny righted her dress and then smacked Harry upside the head. “Idiot! If you don't cease
that adolescent display right now, you'll more than see my breasts, you'll be feeding from
it! Just see if I'm joking.”

Harry's eyes grew round as saucers and then he bolted as though a fire had been lit from
under him.

Colin and Hermione were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their faces.

“Who knew?” Colin gasped, grasped his stomach with his left arm while holding Luke securely in
his right. “The great Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding world, fearless in the face of
Voldemort and countless Death Eaters, scared shitless at the thought of being breastfed!”

Hermione herself was having quite a laugh at the expense of her husband. “He can throw off the
*Imperius Curse* and endure the *Cruciatus* without breaking; who knew the threat of
breast exposure would have him folding his tail and running?”

Ginny took her now very awake daughter from Hermione when she saw the other woman was having
difficulty keeping it together. “You are aware that's your husband you're disparaging,
aren't you?” Ginny asked in amusement, holding Nicole in front of her and bouncing the infant
gently as she gurgled happily, waving her pudgy arms at her laughing godparents.

“Yes, I know,” Hermione nodded jerkily, “but you can't tell me you didn't find that
funny.”

Ginny grinned. Clearly, Hermione was Harry's match in every way; he would never be able to
use his fame to get around his wife and she was far too smart to fall into the pitfalls every other
witches fell into when they fell in love: losing their identities. They complimented each other
perfectly and she could never be happier for them both. She could now safely say that had Harry
ended up with another woman, he would have completely ruled her life to the point where he would
have lost interest and eventually would have cheated on her; if she herself had persevered in her
little crush on him, she would probably have eaten him alive and have some space left for dessert.
Hermione was just what the Medi-Wizard ordered for him.

“Yes, quite,” Ginny agreed with Hermione as she looked at the red-faced Harry, hiding behind Ron
but trying not to be conspicuous about it. She looked back at the older woman and shrugged her
shoulders. “Anyway, we should be around for two more weeks and then it's back to New York for
us.”

“That's too bad,” Hermione said, forgetting their previous hilarity for the moment as she
eyed the beautiful little girl in Ginny's arms longingly. “I'll miss seeing my
godchildren.”

Hermione looked so wistful that Ginny felt guilty for having to leave. “We'll come for a
visit as often as we can, Mione. And besides, I'm sure you'll have your very own baby to
fuss over before long, if Harry has anything to say about it. He's rather, ahem, up to the job,
as I'm sure you're well aware of. You won't even remember my little monsters once you
have your own.”

Hermione smiled eagerly. “I hope so. I know Harry wants to start a family right away.”

“See! I'll bet you'll be the coolest Mum ever. I want to be godmother to all your little
tykes, every single one of them.”

Hermione grinned cheekily. “You're on.”

“Umm, Gin, I hate to break this little tête-à-tête, but I think you're Mum needs a bit of
assistance,” Colin butted in, looking at the furious looking Weasley matriarch.

Ginny looked to where she could see her mother huffing and waving a wooden spoon in the air.
“Right. Hermione, would you?” She held Nicole out to her and the other woman immediately said of
course and happily assumed carrying the baby. Ginny made her way over to her mother, then followed
her inside the house. She wondered where her father was and soon had her answer when she heard her
mother's loud voice in the room under the stairs.

“We have guests, Arthur! I have spent the past hour looking for you, wondering where you've
gone to and I find you here, tinkering with that thing again! Can't you leave that be for a
minute to at least talk to your guests?”

Ginny winced. She had a very good idea what had upset her mother this much and as she slipped
into the room, she'd guessed right.

“But Molly, I couldn't help myself! This is just amazing! Who knew Muggles were as ingenious
as this! Look! Look! If I move this here, I can see you in this glass thing here! See!”

Ginny suppressed a chuckle as she watched her father pick up the video camera and focus it on
his wife. Trust Arthur Weasley to abandon everything to play around with a Muggle toy. But her
mother apparently didn't think too much about his excuse when her face grew even redder in her
fury. Ginny immediately intervened before the argument escalated further.

“Mum, I think we're running out of Cherry pie. Tonks was just asking if there was any more
since she found it particularly delicious.” If there's one thing Molly Weasley hated, it was
running out of food, and true to her word, the plump woman's eyes immediately cleared to be
replaced with worry.

“Oh dear, I'll take out some more from the kitchen.” She made to leave before remembering
her reason for seeking out her husband. “And I want you out of here in five minutes, Arthur, or I
swear I'll put away all that junk to where you'll never see them again.” Then she huffed
once before leaving the room.

Ginny grinned at her sheepish looking father. “Who set this up anyway?” she asked, looking at
all the appliances in the small room: there was a wide screen television, a DVD player, a VCR and
the video camera Mr. Weasley was still holding. On a shelf by the corner were electronic gadgets of
all shapes and sizes that had Ginny shaking her head in puzzlement. “Where did you get all this
stuff? You do know some of this won't work here, right?” She picked up a PDA which was placed
beside a cellular phone and a Gameboy.

“That friend of yours, Colin. He also set all of this up,” answered Mr. Weasley, putting down
the camera carefully.

“Really?” Ginny's eyes were raised in amusement and speculation. “Why would he do that?”

Mr. Weasley flushed in embarrassment. “He thought I would have more fun playing with things that
work. He heard about my fascination with plugs but since we don't have eckeltricity, he thought
since these all run on batteries, then there should be no problem.”

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. “Mum's gonna have his hide when she learns about this.”
She couldn't believe the number of junk in the room and had to wonder when Colin had the time
to give it to her father. “But now you have to get out of here, you know Mum never makes idle
threats.”

“That would be best, yes,” Mr. Weasley said, nervous at the thought of losing all his toys.

They came out together and her father quickly went to talk with Albus Dumbledore, who was, to
her amusement, wearing periwinkle robes with stars dotting the formal attire. Touted the most
powerful wizard that ever lived, he looked totally ridiculous and yet oddly, he was the only one
who fit in with the flamboyant decorations courtesy of Fred and George. Her gaze moved over the
Burrow's backyard, noting the few people that had been included in the guest list for the
twin's christening. She and her mother had agreed that only those who were close family friends
were to be invited so as to keep the existence of the twins a secret; it would be hard enough to
explain to a few how she and Draco came together and really didn't fancy spending her short
time at home explaining the whys of the matter. She looked at Tonks, with her purple hair talking
with Remus; she wasn't certain, but it looked like the mild-mannered werewolf might have found
his match. She shifted her gaze over to Mad-Eye Moody, who was eyeing a piece of chicken
suspiciously, with Mrs. Weasley in the background telling him there was no need for him to worry
that it might be poisoned. Her brother Charlie was sitting contentedly against one of the gaily
decorated trees, his girlfriend Claire lounging against his chest as they talked, their hands
entwined. Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape were standing off to one side, not talking and
looking disapprovingly at Fred and George, who were currently extolling the benefits of engaging in
a rat race to a drunk Mundungus Fletcher and a bemused Neville Longbottom. Luna was, surprisingly,
keeping her distance from her brother, and she wondered if her mother's intuition had proven
right, after all.

Her gaze shifted to Harry, Hermione and Colin, who were now joined by another wizard she would
never have otherwise invited. They were not enemies but they were also by no means friends, so
seeing him mingling with her friends and family had shocked her. The shock had been replaced with
panic after only a few seconds; Blaise Zabini was the unspoken half of Draco Malfoy, and if Zabini
knew of Luke and Nicole, then it would be safe to say that Draco would too. She had only been able
to breathe normally again after Hermione assured her Zabini would not say anything to anybody about
the twins. Hermione knew the Italian well, and if she said he wouldn't tell, then she could
trust her word on that. Somewhat.

Her gaze moved again to where her parents were. She smiled fondly as she spied her mother plunk
down a full plate in front of her father and Dumbledore, insisting that he eat the lot or suffer
the consequences; he didn't have to be told twice and started working his way through the
mountain of food, with Dumbledore softly chuckling in amusement beside him. Her mother was always
after her father to eat right and enough, and she was heartened to know that it hasn't changed
over the years.

She made her way back to Harry, Hermione and Colin, inwardly preparing herself for a face-off
with the deceptively quiet Slytherin; deceptively because to her chagrin, she had been far off the
mark where the Italian was concerned. Blaise Zabini was quiet, yes, but it seemed that he had no
problem expressing himself when necessary and when he expressed himself, he was one sarcastic and
arrogant bastard. No wonder he got along famously with the Prince of Slytherin, and clashed
frequently with his partner, one Harry Potter.

It had been quite a shock when Hermione told her Harry had been partners with Zabini for almost
a year and the first two months of their partnership notwithstanding, they worked very well
together. She hadn't wanted to believe Hermione at first when she said he wouldn't go
running off to Draco once he saw the twins, but when she heard Harry relied on him to keep his back
safe on a day to day basis, and since Harry was obviously still enjoying a very healthy life, she
finally ceased her worries. Zabini himself had said he was Draco's friend, and cousin besides,
but something as critical as his fatherhood would be better left for Draco to discover, without
help from himself. He had a weird sense of logic but she was grateful for it in this instance. That
same logic was probably what made him such good friends with Hermione, in spite of what they had
been once to each other, much to Harry's dismay. It did not sit well with him to see his wife
acting friendly towards the same man she had almost slept with. But she could well see what
attracted her friend to Blaise: he was very intelligent in an unconventional way, and he probably
constantly challenged Hermione's intellect with his illogical sense. That he was an abnormally
attractive example of the male species helped, of course, and having one constantly fawning over
you was not exactly a great burden.

Blaise was currently inspecting (that was the only word for it) Luke, holding the baby away from
him and turning him this way and that. Luke, surprisingly, was allowing the inspection, his eyes
fixed on the strange man before him. As Ginny approached, Blaise handed the quiet baby back to
Colin and nodded his head, as though his theory had just been confirmed.

“Did he pass, Zabini?” Ginny said tartly, irritated at the Italian for his handling of Luke.

“That was never in question,” he answered suavely, watching the redhead take the boy from Colin
and holding him in front of her defiantly. “I knew some day, Draco's obsession with you would
result in something like this. But when I heard Weasel King say ferret-face spawned a replica of
himself, I just had to see for myself. He's right, about the replica, not the ferret-face,” he
said hurriedly when he saw Ginny's eyes flash dangerously.

Ginny looked around angrily for her brother. Was it really too much to hope that he would forget
his animosity towards Draco for one night and focus on his niece and nephew instead?

“If it's any consolation,” Blaise intruded into her thoughts, “he was quite pissed when he
said that bit. Who knew he didn't have a head for alcohol? A bottle of Ogden's and he was
spilling his guts out like a gutted pig. Courtesy of yours truly, of course.”

Ginny's eyes snapped back on the swarthy man. “Tell me again why he's here with you,
Harry?” she asked, her lips pursed disapprovingly, her eyes fixed on the dark-haired Slytherin.

“He invited himself, and because our covert mission ended sooner than expected, seeing as Zabini
here killed our suspect,” Harry replied happily, smiling like an innocent little boy.

“I wouldn't put it like that, Potter,” Zabini drawled gruffly.

“Snuffed, expired, stop breathing, it's all the same to me. He's dead. And you're
responsible.”

“Funny,” Zabini said, smirking, “you seem to have conveniently forgotten that he was about to
make Hermione a widow. Pity he missed.”

Harry growled at Zabini, unable to prevent reacting to his partners deliberate provocation.

Ginny leaned into Hermione who was ignoring the men's argument, busy making faces to Nicole.
“They are aware the sexual tension's so thick around them you could cut it with a knife,
right?” she said in a stage whisper and grinned mischievously as Harry flushed. Zabini winked at
him, giving his body a thorough once over before letting a sly smile replace his smirk. Harry
looked about ready to bolt again.

“Stop that, Blaise, you'll give him nightmares for a week,” Hermione said without taking her
eyes off the baby in her arms.

“Try a year,” Harry mumbled under his breath, shooting a killing glare at his partner.

Ginny couldn't help herself. “Zabini's gay?!”

Four snorts answered her. Hermione then chuckled, Colin shook his head, Harry mumbled something
remarkably like `I could only hope' and Zabini laughed loudly.

“He's not, trust me,” Hermione said, glancing at her friend. “He's too much of a
womanizer to ever be swayed in the opposite wagon.”

Zabini staggered back, hand over heart. “You wound me, luv. You know you're the only woman
for me. Just say the word and I'll spirit you away from that messy haired husband of yours
before he can even blink.”

“See what I have to put up with?” Hermione said as the two men faced off again, throwing insults
at each other.

“Are they always like this?” Ginny asked as she watched Harry and Zabini try to outdo each
other.

“Pretty much. Blaise is a good man though, despite some of his associations,” she said
meaningfully. “He's just lonely; there hasn't been a woman that kept him interested for
longer than a few weeks, and it absolutely irritates Harry that we're such good friends. I know
he likes Zabini, *very deep* down inside; it's a matter of principle to dislike him,
though.”

Ginny was about to reply when Luke decided he'd been ignored long enough and let out a loud
wail, his little limbs stiffening as he engaged in his first temper tantrum. She had only started
shushing and bouncing him gently when Blaise was suddenly standing in front of her.

“May I?” He didn't wait for Ginny to say no and plucked Luke from her arms, cradling him in
his right arm then started talking to him firmly but gently. “Now, my lad, don't you know
it's bad form, showing your tonsils to your adoring public?” he said wagging a finger at the
boy. Luke, seemingly surprised and mesmerized at this person holding and talking to him and quieted
down immediately. “Now, let me tell you something about your father, a more sorry piece of arse
I've ever had the pleasure to know. Listen carefully now, this is important.” Blaise seemed to
have forgotten he had an audience. “Your da was a very quiet baby, never once made a peep unless it
was absolutely necessary; you know, to make it known he was hungry or needed his nappies changed.
He liked to listen and watch people and he learned quickly that people leave you alone if you act
like you were part of the furniture. We grew up together, you know, your da and I, such a serious
boy he was too. His Mum and Dad were not happy people then, not like your Mum here, and that's
probably why he's such an arse. Now here is what I want you to keep inside that white head of
yours: when you see him, your da I mean, don't be too hard on him okay? He doesn't know
what he's doing. I'll help kick his arse around some for you, to be sure. I have you
covered, don't worry. Just remember to give him a chance. Tell your little sister, too.
She's too busy sleeping right now to listen to the men talk, so I expect you to be the one to
guide her. Are we clear on this then?”

The baby just stared at the man talking to him, his eyes wide. Ginny was surprised at the easy
way he had taken to Zabini; it took Hermione two days of making a nuisance of herself before Luke
would let her near him, and another day to let her hold him. She had been greatly disappointed by
this as she had found the boy to be very adorable, despite his decidedly Malfoy genetics; she had
only been mollified when it took Harry even longer for the boy to warm up to him. Ginny could have
sworn that Luke was somehow projecting his father's dislike for the two by refusing their
presence.

Zabini broke his eye contact with the baby and looked back at the three stunned adults. “Well,
at least he's not as thick as Draco, there's hope for him yet. There you go.” He handed
Luke back to Ginny, giving the boy a pat on his head and a small smile.

“Blaise, you never cease to amaze me,” Hermione said, smiling brightly at the Italian.

“You know me, cara, I hate predictability.” He smirked at the bristling Harry. “Of course, there
are some things that I wouldn't mind seeing over and over again.”

“Prick,” Harry muttered.

“Of course, why do you think the ladies love me?” retorted Zabini.

“I think Luke and Nicole have heard enough name calling from these two, Gin,” Colin pointed out.
“Maybe we should put them to bed already.”

Ginny looked between Blaise and Harry before nodding. “I think you're right. Can you take
Nicole?” The little girl had thankfully fallen asleep through the whole verbal exchange.

“I can help you, Gin,” Hermione offered right away.

“Better not, Mione. These two *kids* here,” she emphasized, indicating the two adult males,
“need a babysitter of their own or they'll be tearing each other's spleen out. Colin can
help me.”

“Ok, then,” Hermione nodded reluctantly, carefully moving Nicole from her arms to Colin's.
She kissed the fair head lovingly. “Bye, sweetie.”

With Luke safely tucked in her arms and Nicole in Colins, they made their way slowly towards the
Burrow. They had to constantly stop, as one guest after another halted their progress towards the
Burrow, wanting to either talk or just to ogle at the babies once again. She didn't mind
stopping; she knew pride was a sin, but she couldn't help but be proud of the way her babies
had turned out. She knew had Draco only seen what he had created with her, he would also have been
proud of them.

When they were finally nearing the Burrow's front doors, and safely away from anybody who
might possibly stop them again, Ginny smiled at Colin.

“You certainly look pleased with yourself,” Colin commented, his free arm loping around her
shoulders.

“I am,” she nodded, her smile getting wider.

“Is the reason behind it top secret or am I permitted to know?”

Ginny grinned even more. “I'm just happy to be here, with my friends around me, and my
family supporting me. Daddy has been really nice, he hasn't pestered me about my single status
even once, though that might have something to do about his preoccupation with his new toys.” Her
eyebrows rose in question and Colin laughed, not answering her unspoken question. “Anyway, it's
just good to be home. You never really begin to miss something until you're taken from it and
then given an opportunity to have it back again. I'm happy.”

“Even with Zabini around?” Blond eyebrows rose in challenge.

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “Especially with him around. Don't you know I find him to be
a breath of fresh air? I'm not saying I'll marry him,” she said quickly when Colin looked
at her incredulously, “but I've rarely seen Harry so ruffled and Zabini does it so
effortlessly. He's so - I don't know, alive! That's a feeling I haven't been
familiar with for a long time, till Luke and Nicole came, of course. I wouldn't mind getting to
know him a bit more.”

Colin was still highly skeptical. “You do know he and Draco are cousins right? You can't
start something with him if only because of that, Gin.”

Ginny flushed. “Just because I said I wanted to get to know him better doesn't mean I'm
jumping into the sack with him, Col. I don't think I could live with myself if I did that.”

“Tell that to your libido then,” Colin said pragmatically.

Ginny's chin rose a notch. “My libido, as it is, is firmly under control, thank you very
much. I don't think it responds very well to outside stimuli that was not called Draco and
Malfoy. I've tried, believe me. Whoever said that pregnant women's hormones go into
overdrive must have been dreaming. That, or I've used up all my mileage and need to have my
engines overhauled.”

Colin chuckled. “You've likened yourself to an automobile?”

Ginny shrugged. “Why not? Not much of a difference. Better than saying my libido has taken a
permanent sabbatical, which sounds positively grim for my future. You know I'm constantly
surrounded by more than scrumptious men and still I can't seem to jumpstart my sex drive. You
figure it out.”

Colin was chuckling so much now, Nicole woke up from her light slumber. She started whimpering,
her face beginning to scrunch up. Luke, who had been quiet up to that point, also started making a
racket on hearing his sister's distress. The adults stopped in their tracks as each tried to
settle both infants down again. But they refused to be pacified that way. They were growing more
restless by the second and Ginny was truly baffled.

She was about to suggest to Colin that they go inside and try to quiet them down in their cots
when she noticed that Colin's attention was riveted elsewhere.

“Col, what is it?” She got no reply, and deciding to follow his field of vision, she understood
what had him transfixed. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping that what she was seeing was just a
figment of her overly active imagination but when she opened them again, she still saw the same
thing. She began to shake all over, fear like she had never before felt consuming her whole being.
Not even Tom made her feel this overpowering sense of doom. With every step taken, she was brought
closer to the reality of who and what she had become. She wanted to run, to hide, but she knew it
wouldn't make a difference. The truth was closing in on her and she was slowly suffocating from
it.

-------

A/N: Answer to questions and other feedback:

**aleja21****:** As you've already probably read, not yet. That will come much later
in the story.

**Dark Fairy:** The story about the Malfoy's came out of nowhere, and one of my readers
at the other site thought that chapter was disturbing, which I highly concur. I'm glad you
liked it though.

**Sailor Universe:** I know, go figure. I'm just thankful that most of the reaction I got
from that little scenario was fairly mild, and no derision anywhere in sight, would you
believe?

**Goldmund:** It will take a lot more than dreams to make Draco see the light; in fact, and
this is a bit of insight into the future chapters, Draco will make a total ass of himself before he
finally realizes what it was he stood to loose.

**GPGA****:** Understand that Draco is a bitter shell of a man, one who has grown up
resentful of his father. Yes, Lucius knows that Draco probably loves Ginny, but he also knows his
son is too set in his ways at present to be any good to his family, just like Lucius was when he
married Narcissa. Notice the similarities between them? Lucius was not exactly falling over himself
with glee when Draco was conceived, and their confrontation didn't exactly give Lucius the
feeling that had Draco known he was already a father, he would suddenly change overnight, and that
was a chance he wasn't willing to take where his grandchildren was concerned.

**H&H Love:** Not yet, and I'll be waiting with baited breath what you think when the
chapter where they do eventually meet again comes up. It won't be anything you'd
imagine.

-->



12. Blood Rituals
-----------------



A/N: I initially wanted to post this chapter after the holidays, but I was convinced to change
my mind by one of my readers. And just to avoid being cursed to perdition by some of my more
enthusiastic readers, I will also be posting the 13th chapter to avoid leaving you all
hanging. But these 2 chapters will be the last ones I will be posting this year; I'll continue
with the rest after the new year. Hope you like chapter 12, and do let me know what you think.

**Chapter 12: Blood Rituals**

Lucius appeared before a scene of what could only be called chaos. For several minutes, he stood
staring at the colorful decors and thought he must have missed his Apparation point by several
miles and materialized smack dab in the middle of a costume party or one of those Muggle events
over in the Americas. But when he saw Dumbledore wearing a ridiculous set of robes with Arthur
Weasley sitting beside him, it gave him little comfort that he wasn't losing his touch. Yet. At
this rate, his constant exposure to the insanity that was the Weasleys just might tip him over the
edge.

“Let's get this over with,” he said aloud and started moving from the Apparation point of
the Burrow to the well-lit activity area. He slightly shook his head at the confetti and banners
put up, no doubt, by those Weasley twin horrors. Why those two were allowed to freely inflect their
horrible taste and cavemen manners on the civilized world he would never understand; he shuddered
to think what those two would to do to his own home were they allowed to step into it, which,
thankfully, they were not.

He caught Arthur Weasley's eyes and gave a barely perceptible nod to him before his gaze
landed accurately on his reason for coming who was, at the moment, looking petrified. With the
grace of a cat, he strolled forward, his head high, his polished boots barely making a sound as he
closed the distance between his son's family and himself. He ignored the other guests, but
quickly saw a bunch of redheads gather together looking at him with disapproval. He dismissed them;
he was not here to feed their animosity; as long as they kept to themselves, they could send the
mother of all glares his way and he wouldn't give a damn. He also noticed the participants of
tonight's rite separate from the other guests and started walking to the Burrow's front
doors. He was gratified to note that everybody he had asked to be present had not failed him.

It took only a few seconds; his long strides brought him in front of Ginevra Weasley and his
grandchildren. His eyes were on the twins, who had quieted down and were also looking at him, but
he had been able to see that he'd been wrong about Ms. Ginevra Weasley: she was more than
beautiful, she was exquisite. His son was a very lucky man.

“Ms. Weasley,” he drawled softly, giving the young woman before him a slight bow.

Ginny took a step back involuntarily. She was shocked; shocked that this man was being so civil
towards her, shocked that he'd been able to get past the wards of the Burrow, and shocked, most
of all, that he'd been able to get near her without having one or two of her brothers throwing
a hex his way. Where before the din of the Burrow's backyard was enough to trigger a headache,
the quiet that fell around them was even more deafening. Even the gnomes seem to have stopped
chasing themselves around, seemingly conscious of the thickness of the tension around them. She
gulped as she watched her parents and Dumbledore coming toward her with comforting smiles on their
faces. Seeing that, she began to relax a little; if they weren't worried that Lucius was there,
then he might not know anything. Dozens of people have fair coloring, she could easily pass off any
resemblance as coincidental, she assured herself while trying to covertly turn Luke's body
towards her chest.

Her slight movement didn't escape Lucius' notice and he smiled a little. He took the
necessary steps forward and looked at the boy in her arms who was struggling to keep his face from
being smothered by his mother's chest. He transferred the black box to his left hand and raised
his right to graze the boy's left cheek with the back of his hands. He was immensely pleased
when the boy grabbed onto his hand and gurgled at him toothlessly, his little fingers playfully
tugging at it up and down, his little feet kicking in the air excitedly. A smile graced the corners
of his lips.

“Yes,” he said softly, “I can see you'll make a fine heir, Luke Ian Malfoy.”

Ginny jerked back in surprise and that effectively detached Luke's connection with his
grandfather. “No!” she denied hotly, holding Luke tightly in her arms. The boy, not liking the
tightness with which he was being held and being parted from his grandfather, started bawling
again. Ginny ignored her son's distress. “He's my son, mine! He'll never be a
Malfoy!”

Lucius' face became a mask of indifference as he looked at the defiant girl before him.
“Then you should have lain with another instead of my son.” His tone of voice would have ordinarily
made any witch or wizard cower in fear; Ginny Weasley was apparently no ordinary witch, as he
watched her face grow more belligerent and her spine more rigid. He wouldn't be surprised if
her eyes started shooting fire next. “Come now, Ms. Weasley, I fully concede and acknowledge that
you are a very intelligent and talented woman, but you're not smart enough to have created a
baby without outside help.” He controlled the urge to smirk at the pink color blooming her cheeks,
doing so would probably do more damage to his campaign; he needed her cooperation in order for the
spell and the ritual to work and alienating himself wasn't the way to do it.

Ginny hated the flush on her cheeks; most often it made her look guileless and innocent, when in
actuality she was far from it, this man's spawn had seen to that. “Look, Mr. Malfoy, I
don't know what you're doing here, but would you kindly leave? This is a family gathering
and last I heard, you're not a part of it.” She ignored her mother's shocked gasp at her
rudeness; this was no time for her to display good manners; if she could get rid of Draco's
father by behaving like a common alley cat, then so be it.

Lucius merely smiled at her. He hated hearing the boy cry, but if Ginny wanted to take her bile
out on him, then he was going to oblige her. But he also wasn't going to leave until he'd
finished what he came here for and after she heard a few things about Draco.

“Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Ms. Weasley. You see, I *was* invited.” He
watched interestedly as those brown eyes suddenly swung over to the quiet guests and hardened
angrily when they found its victim.

“You!” she spat angrily. “You did this, didn't you?”

Lucius looked behind him and barely kept himself from laughing out loud at the scared look in
Blaise's eyes.

“Ginny, please,” Mrs. Weasley stepped in before Ginny started firing off hexes at the innocent
wizard. “Your father and I were the ones who invited Lucius, not Blaise.”

Ginny was so immersed in her anger towards Zabini that she almost didn't hear her mother.
When what she said finally registered in her head, she stared at her in bewilderment. “What?”

Before Mrs. Weasley could answer, Lucius stepped up to Ginny. “May I?” And like Blaise, he
didn't wait for her to say no and disengaged the crying baby from her arms. She hadn't even
noticed that Luke had not stopped crying from the moment she had first denied him his grandfather.
She went to retrieve her son from the former Death Eater but her mother stayed her.

“Don't Gin, he's not hurting Luke. Can't you hear he's stopped crying the minute
Lucius took him from you?”

She didn't want to admit it, but her mother was right and the minute she opened herself up
to the possibility that she'd been acting like a complete witch, no pun intended, she was
ashamed to admit that she'd been hurting her son with her actions. One thought kept going over
and over in her head: her son wanted to get away from her.

“He's made my own son hate me,” she said quietly, staring at the powerful wizard holding
Luke protectively.

Molly Weasley sighed exasperatedly. “Don't act like this, Gin. Of course Luke doesn't
hate you, but you were near suffocating him. He could not understand why one minute he was enjoying
playing with somebody new, then the next his breath is knocked out of him. Of course he'd be
upset.” She wrapped her arms around her trembling daughter; she only came to Ginny's shoulders,
but she was determined to make her understand that she could not keep Luke from his destiny. “Look
at them, Gin; he means no harm. Don't you think Luke would know otherwise?”

“But why, Mum? Why did you tell him? Why did he have to know?” she asked plaintively. “I thought
you understood why I didn't want any one of the Malfoys to know. I thought you believed me.”
She watched as Lucius stepped over to Nicole and smiled down at the little girl. A real smile, not
the usual smirk and sneer a Malfoy usually bestows on a Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley sighed again. “We'll explain inside, Gin. You have to trust your father and I,
we would never do anything to hurt you and our grandchildren.” She gave her a reassuring squeeze
before looking up to the older Malfoy. “Lucius, it's time.”

Lucius looked up from admiring the beautiful little girl when he heard his name called. He
nodded at once when he saw it had been Molly calling his attention, and with Luke cradled in his
right arm, the black box tucked inside his left, he motioned for Colin to follow him inside the
house.

Ginny would have wanted to go and collect her son from Lucius, but her mother's hold on her
wasn't loosening. So many questions were running through her head: What was going on? Why were
her parents being so civil to Lucius Malfoy? Why were they so sure he wasn't going to do
anything evil to Luke or Nicole? What was he even doing at the Burrow? And more importantly, was
his presence here an indication that Draco also knew about the twins? Knew, and didn't care to
come and get to know his children? So many questions and there didn't seem to be any
forthcoming answers on the horizon.

When Ginny entered her childhood home, she forced herself to look at it the way a stranger would
and she had to face facts: under no circumstances could the simplicity of the Burrow be denied. The
front doors opened directly into a comfortable living room; there was a brick fireplace on the far
right side with a mismatched set of couches arranged around a low coffee table that was, for once,
free of clutter. Immediately to the right of the doorway, a set of stairs led up to the Burrows
upper levels where the ghoul she had grown up with was even now making quite a racket. The door to
the kitchens stood a few feet directly from the front doors, delicious smells wafting from the
different dishes Mrs. Weasley had prepared for the christening.

Despite the passage of time, and the change of fortunes by some of the Weasley children, the
Burrow was still bare of furniture or accessories save those that were considered essential. Only
various pictures of redheads through the years graced the walls of the house, with several of
Harry's and Hermione's thrown into the mix, the remarkable family clock given the highest
order of importance by being placed on top of the mantel place. There were no elaborate portraits
or paintings of value, no bric-a-bracs or chests of expensive useless china to mark the improvement
of the Weasley family's Gringotts accounts. Except for Arthur Weasley's newly acquired
arsenal of Muggle technologies, the Burrow was exactly the way it was when Ginny was a little girl:
discordant, yet welcoming, and comfortable like an old pair of house slippers, yet also giving off
a certain air of danger, as though seemingly aware of the nature of some of its inhabitants and
would like to warn intruders to enter at their own peril.

Ginny loved everything about this house and, looking back at Lucius as her mother ushered her to
the living room, she wished he would choke on the essence of love that was primarily the foundation
of the whole edifice. She stood beside her mother, watching as more and more people started to
crowd the cramped space. Lucius was standing at the head of the crowd, facing the fireplace. Her
father and Dumbledore stood to his left, and Severus stood by his right side with Zabini beside
him. As soon as Colin got near her, she immediately took Nicole from him, needing the comfort she
could only get from her daughter.

“Ginny, could you please stand facing Mr. Malfoy, please,” Dumbledore said softly, the twinkle
in his eyes ever present and annoyingly clear. She obliged warily, wondering at the strangeness of
all their behavior and having a very strong suspicion that the positions they had taken were
somehow significant. Immediately, Bill placed himself on her left side with Minerva McGonagall
beside him; her mother, who was standing by her right side, pulled Colin to stand beside her and
slightly to the front. She quickly turned to look behind her when she felt somebody give her
shoulders a reassuring squeeze; it was Harry. What the heck was going on? She started when
Dumbledore banished the mismatched couches and the gathered wizards and witches started to spread
out onto the available space, except Colin who had to be pushed by her mother to move along and to
the right place.

“Mum, what's going on?” She asked hesitantly when she saw Lucius move forward and place the
black box he had been carrying with him on top of the table, took his wand out and with just a tap
and a barely audible spell, transfigured the coffee table into a glimmering black altar with
intricate writings in gold around the outer edges of the gleaming black wood. Her eyes widened in
horror when Lucius stepped up to the altar and placed Luke on a bed of red velvet. “What do you
think you're doing?” She demanded angrily, shrugging off her mother's arms. “Leave my son
alone!” She stepped up into the platform, glared up at Lucius and made to pick up her son with her
free arms. Lucius was quicker.

“This has to be done, Ginevra,” Lucius said gravely, gripping both her arms firmly. “If you
don't want your children separated, then you have to let me continue.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She stared angrily at this man who was probably
responsible for the ruthlessness and indifference of his own son. As far as she was concerned, no
force on earth would ever be able to take any of her babies from her.

“Everything will be explained after the ritual,” Lucius said, his hold on her never loosening.
“Just know that no harm will come to Luke and Nicole.”

Molly Weasley moved forward then. “Gin, please, there's nothing for you to be afraid
of.”

She looked incredulously at her mother. “Forgive me for thinking my son was going to be
sacrificed by this man,” she said sarcastically, jerking her head at Lucius. “It's not everyday
you conjure up an altar in your home and then place your son on it! What was I supposed to think?
That we were going to play spin the baby and whoever's `it' gets to do a dare?”

Lucius snorted. He couldn't help it. The feisty redhead was magnificent in her pique. *If
this was how she looked every time she got angry*, he thought, *no wonder Draco kept on
igniting her fuse.*

Ginny snapped her head back to Lucius. “Oh now he laughs!” she said, exasperated. She didn't
know what to make of this former Death Eater who had almost killed her at age twelve.

Lucius' mask dropped in place once again. “Nothing can be accomplished by arguing now, Ms.
Weasley. Luke is Draco's heir, deal with it. But right now he is illegitimate. You don't
need to tell me how much you don't care about that,” he said, forestalling what she was about
to say. “I am well aware that if it were left up to you, we would never know of the boy and his
sister. But this goes far beyond legitimacy issues. So if you would just indulge me for the few
minutes it would take to complete the rite, I can get on with the explaining.”

Ginny looked carefully at the earnest man but couldn't see any malice in his eyes. She
looked at her mother who nodded at her in encouragement, to Dumbledore who was smiling and whose
eyes were still twinkling, damn him, to the rest of the assembled friends and family. She really
didn't want to relent, but if all these people were sure that what was about to happen
wasn't some elaborate scheme to steal her baby from her, then shouldn't she see where this
was going?

Biting her lip in uncertainty, she turned her back on the blond man. “Fine! But if I see so much
as a single hair on his head being hurt, you'll wish you were born in an earlier lifetime.” She
was halted in her retreat by her mother. “What now?” she said wearily.

“Nicole, Gin?” Mrs. Weasley said softly.

Ginny half turned her body away from her mother. “What of Nikki?” But she had a feeling she knew
what her mother was about to say next. And she was right.

“She has to be with Luke.”

“But Luke was the first born. He's the heir. What does Nikki have to do with it?”

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “They're twins, Gin. True, one came before the other, but they have a
connection neither you nor Draco will ever be able to break. Yes, Luke will be his father's
heir, but Nicole will have to be a part of the ritual for it to be binding.”

Ginny wanted to know what the `it' was, but knew she wouldn't be getting an answer from
any of them at the moment.

“Fine! Fine!” She walked over to the other end of the altar; by the way Luke was positioned, she
assumed Nicole would have to be placed in the same way but on the opposite direction. She carefully
laid her daughter down, her head touching that of her brothers. She looked at them, laying there,
so fair against such a dark backdrop and again started asking herself if she was doing the right
thing, letting them do what they were about to do. But before she could act on her dubious
feelings, her mother was beside her and guiding her back to their place in the formation.

When she had still been pregnant, before the scandal broke, she had envisioned several scenarios
wherein Draco found out she was pregnant and his awareness, of course, meant Lucius would be as
well. In one of her fantasies, she was strolling the streets of Diagon Alley and he would see her
and come up to her and demand why she hadn't told him about the baby, before sweeping her into
his arms and asking her to marry him, forsaking his family name and his wealth just to be with her.
In another, Lucius had found out first that his son had tainted the family name by consorting with
a lowly Weasley and ordered his henchmen to eliminate her; Draco had found out at the last minute
and rescued her, apologized for the way he had treated her and asked her to marry him. Her favorite
out of all her fantasies was the one where Draco hadn't known about her pregnancy, but he'd
been so tortured by their one night together that he had been forced to admit to himself that he
loved her after all. He'd then contrived a way to see her and explain why he did and said the
things he did and asked her to forgive him, promising her that for as long as they lived, he'd
love her and show her how truly sorry he was. She'd then told him about his impending
fatherhood and he'd insisted she marry him right away, as he could not bear to live another day
without her by his side. Of course, those fantasies were shot down to hell once her pregnancy
became front-page material for the *Daily Prophet* and became the favorite topic for
discussion several weeks after the revelation, with no Draco Malfoy in sight to declare his undying
love and devotion. The reality of her situation was so bitter that had she not been the stubborn
and prideful girl that she was, she would have given in to the depression she'd fallen in or
else evolve into the apathetic person that Draco was.

In all her fantasies though, Lucius was always the bad guy, the one keeping her and Draco apart.
In moments where she wasn't consumed with thoughts of Draco, she would be contemplating how
Lucius would react to his son's rebelliousness and it showed her immaturity when she would feel
quite pleased for getting one up on the arrogant autocrat. Never, in her wildest imaginations, did
it occur to her that Lucius would be pushing for her to accept an alliance with the Malfoys through
her children. If she wasn't sure they would think it odd, she'd already be slapping herself
silly just to make sure she wasn't dreaming the whole thing that was happening before her very
eyes.

As she watched, her body tense and ready to spring into action, Lucius picked up the black box
and moved to the left side of the altar and laid it by the twin's heads. He placed his wand
beside the box, then slowly placed his right hand over a symbol on the lid and pressed. She
hadn't paid attention to the box before, so didn't really see what the symbol was, but when
it slid open soundlessly, she barely resisted the urge to stand on tiptoes to take a peek inside
it. The altar was too high for her to see even if she had tried it, of course, but since when has
that ever been a problem for the curious? She snuck a peek at her mother and flushed when she saw
she had been looking at her with a knowing smile on her lips; Mrs. Weasley was not ignorant when it
came to her children's mischief and she was more than a match for whatever they could come up
with, all seven of them had learned that the hard way.

She had been brooding too long on how best to sneak a peek at the contents of that box without
having her mother getting on her case that she missed much of what Lucius was doing. She barely
heard him chanting in a language she couldn't decipher; it wasn't French, that much she was
sure of, it sounded more Italian but was also certain it wasn't that by the expression on
Zabini's face. He had picked up his wand again and made a sweeping arch from Luke's
bootee-covered toes to Nicole's. Still ignoring what the blond was mouthing off, she watched,
fascinated, as a beam of light followed the movement of his wand then rose to envelope the three of
them in the altar. The brightness of the light became blinding so that Ginny closed and averted her
eyes, waiting for the stars to disappear behind her lids before opening them again. When she did,
she saw that the light had turned into a diaphanous veil, like a wall keeping the rest of the
assembly out of the focal point of the ritual. When she reached a finger to touch the veil, her
heart started to pound in earnest when she felt a solid substance instead of soft, pliant mist.
When she looked at the others, she saw that they also hadn't expected this to happen and were
trying to maintain their composure in the face of what could possibly turn out to be more than they
first thought. She looked at Dumbledore and for the second time in her life, she didn't see the
reassuring twinkle in those eyes. Paling, she placed both palms on the wall separating her from her
children and watched in horror when Lucius satisfied her curiosity and showed them the contents of
the box.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

William Chauncy watched the blond aristocrat pacing in front of his cluttered desk in his shabby
office. Ordinarily, he was not one to question good luck when it was being laid upon his door, but
his profession also required for him to possess a certain degree of caution; in fact, it demanded
it. It had served him more times than he cared to admit and though he was practically salivating at
the thought of how lucrative it would be for his fledgling career to have a Malfoy as a client, he
wanted all the chips on the table, so to speak; he didn't want to be blindsided later on.

“I want you to do this as discreetly as possible, Mr. Chauncy. I don't have to tell you the
importance of keeping whatever you find out between the two of us.” Draco stopped in front of the
heavy-set man and crossed his arms. He was a pretty good judge of a person's character, and
though he was not proficient in Legilimency, he could practically see what was going through the
investigator's head. It wouldn't be boasting if he said that he would be a force to be
reckoned with if his stipulations weren't followed to the letter; he wasn't his
father's son for nothing after all. And his cunning told him William Chauncy was the best man
for the job he wanted done.

As he continued to stand there, his piercing gray eyes fixed on the man, he had to admit that it
would be hard to think of William Chauncy as anything but a jolly middle-aged man without a
conniving bone in his body. He was tall, yes, but his body had gone to fat and his ill-fitting
clothes could hardly conceal his potbelly. He was only in his mid-forties, but maybe because of the
stress of the job, his curly brown hair had several gray streaks in it and his bushy mustache was
almost completely white, giving him an appearance of a harmless old man or a doting uncle, or that
dotty Muggle-loving old fool Santy Claus. Which was probably why he was very good at what he does;
he could make anybody feel comfortable and safe and could extract information out of even the most
loyal house elf. He was the perfect man for the job.

The perfect man for the job started tapping a slim black stick on the pad of paper in front of
him. Draco was sure the paper was a Muggle thing, as well as the black thing he was holding which
he'd used to write with, but he wasn't too concerned about his writing implements right
then; if William Chauncy could provide him with the information he needed, he was prepared to turn
the other cheek should he decide to don a pink tutu and dance his way to accomplishing the job he
wanted done.

“What I don't understand is why you have decided I would be the best man to do this, Mr.
Malfoy. I'm not saying that I can't do it,” he added hastily, lest his prospective client
took it to mean he was refusing him, “but I *do* seem to recall that Malfoy Holdings has a
very efficient investigative agency. Surely, as owner, you have the prerogative to engage your
agents on retainer on matter such as this?”

Draco smiled grimly. He was no fool; Chauncy was asking, as politely as he could, why he was
prepared to overlook the abilities of his own pool of investigators when they were considered to be
the best people in their fields. It was a laugh the way the older man tried to pretend mere
curiosity; Malfoy Holdings' team of spies were dreaded, never just recalled, which was why he
didn't want them handling this case. That, and their loyalties were concentrated on one man,
and that man wasn't him. Yet.

“If you think about it, Mr. Chauncy, I'm sure you'll come up with the answer.”

William Chauncy didn't even hesitate. “Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco just smirked, neither confirming nor denying his guess. Mr. Chauncy shifted in his cheap
faux leather high-backed chair and tapped the black stick on his paper again.

“How exactly do you want me to do this?” he asked after awhile.

“Like I said: discreetly.”

“No, I mean, is there a limit to what I should gather? Do you want to know every tiny detail, or
do you just want the pertinent data,” Mr. Chauncy persisted. “There's no telling where my
investigation will take me and I need to know right now if there is point where I should stop. A
boundary, let's just say.”

Draco frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead when he'd decided to have Ginny Weasley
checked out. Did he really want to know how many lovers she'd had between their night together
and the present time? Did he really want to know the frequency with which she shared her bed and
body with them? Did he really want to know if his father was one of those number? And for the
purposes of argument, really, what would he do once he had all the facts in black and white? He was
trying very much to ignore that alternate ego inside of him but with every passing minute, he was
starting to realize Draco Jr. was one astute bugger.

*Jealous much, Draco?*

And for the first time since Draco Jr. made an appearance in his life, he answered honestly.
*Madly.*

*This is going to be so much fun!* Draco Jr. cackled maniacally before fading into the
recesses of his subconscious again.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco looked sharply at the puzzled looking investigator. He realized he must have gone silent
for a while and attempted to cover his slip. “Find out everything you can, Mr. Chauncy; I want to
know all there is to know about Ms. Ginevra Moira Weasley from the names of her lovers to the name
of the soap she uses. Don't spare any details; I want to know even the most absurd to the most
scandalous rumors and I want verification of each. If you find out she likes to drink firewhiskey,
I want to know many glasses she could drink in one night, how many times a week, what her limit is,
and whether she has gone home with any random wizard after getting intoxicated and what she does
with that wizard once they are alone. I don't care if you have to transfigure yourself into a
fly to do that, but I want to know about *everything*.”

Mr. Chauncy's eyes had rounded in trepidation as he listened to the blond man ranting. He
had wanted details, but this was more than he had bargained for.

“I want to know what position she has engaged in while being fucked and I want to know how many
dicks have entered that pretty mouth of hers and the names of those dicks so I'd know who I
have to go after.” Draco paused and took a deep breath, his eyes glittering madly. He was far away,
to a place of his own making and he didn't care if he looked deranged in front of William
Chauncy. He was expressing himself for the first time and it felt bloody great!

William Chauncy, on the other hand, did not know what to make of this young man before him. One
minute he was all business and cool intellect, the next he looked like an enraged husband out to
make *any* body with a penis who came into even the remotest contact with this witch into a
eunuch. He was afraid to say anything at this point, not sure whether there was anything he could
possibly ask that would not end with him carrying around his precious dick instead of it being
attached to his body. He liked his dick where it was, thank you very much.

“Everything then,” he said, then cleared his throat self-consciously when he realized he had
squeaked.

Draco turned eyes that had changed to such a dark color William was afraid to break eye contact
for fear of something happening if he let his guard down for just a second. When Draco only nodded
curtly, he slowly released the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding.

“Everything,” Draco confirmed. “Don't worry about the cost, I'm prepared to pay for all
the expenses you'll incur. Here, this should tide you over to begin with.”

Mr. Chauncy took the proffered note and his eyes bugged out at the amount stated in the signed
voucher. Five thousand galleons was certainly more than enough to tide him over for a year! Not
wanting to appear overeager, he put away the Gringotts voucher inside his breast pocket with steady
fingers, then ruined the whole nonchalance act by patting the area where the obscene amount of
money was stowed away satisfactorily.

Draco ignored the excitement Mr. Chauncy was showing towards the money. Five thousand was
nothing to him, he owned several pairs of shoes that cost more than that, but he knew it was
probably more money than what the wizard made in a year doing what he did. And if he proved to be a
font of information, Draco would later decide what kind of reward he would give him.

“I'll get right on it, Mr. Malfoy,” Mr. Chauncy said heartily. “Rest assured I will leave no
stones unturned in the course of my investigation.”

Draco nodded. “See that you do. And take your time, Mr. Chauncy, I have a feeling you'll
find digging for dirt regarding Ginny Weasley will not be as easy as you think.” He turned his back
on the investigator and started for the fireplace. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the
mantel, then turned to look back and delivered one last warning to the man standing behind the
desk. “Oh, and Mr. Chauncy? Should any part of our conversation reach the ears of certain people, I
*will* kill you. Make no mistake about that.” The threat was delivered so lightly that it was
hard for anybody to believe it was a promise rather than an elaborate joke. He waited for
acknowledgment of the threat and once the investigator nodded solemnly, he flooed back to Malfoy
Holdings' conference room.

William Chauncy fell back on his chair and heaved a shaky breath. In the twenty years he'd
been in the investigating business, he'd dealt with all kinds of people, wizards and muggles
alike, and he'd been able to conclude that the clients who approached him for help basically
suffer from the same problems; they were either too afraid to show too much emotion and lose their
loved ones in the process, or they were too clingy and tended to drive away their significant
others. Monotonous job, really, tagging after errant men and women. Statistically, eighty-five
percents of his clients were females wanting to find out if their husbands or boyfriends were
cheating on them, while the remaining fifteen percent were men who either wanted to find proof of
their wives infidelities as basis for divorce so *they* could continue their affairs with
their own lovers, or they were going after men who owed them money and who has suddenly vanished
into thin air. For the last five years, he had been getting tired of doing the same thing over and
over again, and had begun to wonder if this was all there was to spying. Sure, the scare Lord
Voldemort gave the Wizarding world gave his profession a new thrill; you never know when you would
suddenly encounter one of his followers and see your life flash before your very eyes. Business was
a boom then, though he was doing much of the same thing still. When Harry Potter finally laid
Voldemort to rest, though, his job became even more monotonous, and until two years ago, was
seriously considering moving to America and see if the place could bring excitement to his life
where England could not. Until Draco Malfoy stepped from his fireplace and presented him with an
offer he would be a fool to refuse.

Threats to his life was something that he constantly faced, and he was no fool to take
Malfoy's threat lightly. He knew the boy's history, and though comparatively speaking the
Malfoy heir was still just a boy, he knew what he was capable of, knew how ruthless he could be,
and had no doubt whatsoever that he could find ways and means to kill him in the most inventive and
painful of ways. He'd heard rumors about his part in the war; some had laughed off the more
fantastical tales and doubted even the more tame ones, but he knew as surely as he knew about the
presence of a mole on his right temple, that those *rumors* were actually accurate accounts of
his actions in aiding the cause of the light side. His ways may not have been exactly something the
MLE's would endorse, but it got the job done as far as he was concerned. It was either them or
him, after all, and the Malfoy's sense of self-preservation was too strong to be ignored.

Mr. Chauncy retrieved the voucher from his pocket and stared at the amount. From what he could
gather after hearing what Draco Malfoy wanted done, he did not fit into the fifteen percent in his
statistic. For the life of him, he could not think of a conceivable reason why the most eligible
bachelor in all wizardom would react so violently to the prospect of finding out anything
derogatory about a witch from a family who'd been at odds with his own for several generations.
The fierce way the young man threatened to do bodily harm to anybody who had the misfortune of
sharing the young woman's bed in the last year was chilling. Somehow, he knew that wasn't
an idle threat either, and despite his natural cynicism towards the world in general and human
relationships in particular, he was starting to feel sorry for the yet nameless men who'll soon
grace one Draco Malfoy's hit list.

He stared some more on the figure he was holding. Was five thousand galleons enough money for
him to involve himself in whatever drama was going on in the life of the crown prince of the
Wizarding world's own version of Royalty?

Resolutely, he stuffed the voucher back in his pockets. The answer was an unequivocal yes! The
money was great, but more than that, he thrived on the promise of excitement this particular job
would bring into his otherwise boring existence. It was a test of his ability, and as he prepared
to leave the tiny office he had rented in the shadier part of Diagon Alley, he was looking forward
to finding out whether he still had the sneaky side of him that had made him such a success as an
Auror fifteen years ago.

It was quite late when William Chauncy walked out of Gringotts. Thankfully, the wizard bank
didn't believe in closing early, and after spending only thirty minutes inside its hallowed
halls, he walked out of there with a new bounce to his step. His pockets were considerably heavier
and his private accounts was significantly more substantial than it had been for years. There were
several thoughts running through his head, but the foremost question was where Ms. Ginevra Weasley
was at this very moment.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her whole body shaking in terror, Ginny pounded the impervious wall with her balled fists, her
heart beating frantically as she watched Lucius carefully arrange a dagger, a goblet, a vial and a
black velvet pouch on the altar; the contents of the damned box. The dagger was truly a work of
art; she suspected that the handle was made of pure gold and she shuddered when she realized that
the hilt was patterned to resemble the head of a snake, the handle that of its coiled body with the
tail wrapped around one sharp edge of the blade. For its eyes, two black diamonds glittered
menacingly; at least, it looked like it was a diamond, she had never seen one colored black before.
The goblet was also something she had only ever seen in history books. It looked fragile and like
the dagger, it was made of pure gold but instead of the snake design, the stem was of an angel, a
cherub to be specific, its wings folded on its body, its plump cheeks pressed against one full side
while its arms cradled the cup. Its stubby legs served as the base, with one leg bent under the
other. The vial was shaped like a small urn and made of platinum with no intricate designs on it.
It looked ordinary enough as well as the velvet black pouch, but Ginny was not fooled in the least,
especially when she saw Lucius pick up the dagger.

“Please, anybody, do something!” she implored, her face pressed against the wall, her tears
flowing unchecked. But she knew even before she asked that there was nothing anybody can do for her
or her babies, not with the ancient repelling spell Lucius had cast on himself and the twins. All
they could do was hope that Lucius really did not mean to harm Luke and Nicole, but with his past
record speaking for himself, hoping for him to keep his word was foolish at best.

Ginny barely stifled a scream when Lucius run the sharp edge of the dagger against the pulsing
artery of his right wrist, the dark blood immediately pooling and running down the side of the cut
extremity, the viscous liquid slowly filling the waiting goblet. As soon as Lucius deemed the
contents of the cup to be enough, he muttered a healing charm on his bleeding wrist, the cut
closing without any trace of a scar. Her hysterical mind briefly admired his handiwork, especially
since he did it without the aid of a wand, before she realized that Lucius performing wandless
magic was something she should worry about instead of admire. She hastily wiped the tears blurring
her vision when she saw Lucius replace the dagger inside the box; that was surely a good thing, at
least her worry that he was going to stab one or both of her babies to death was appeased.
Right?

Lucius next picked up the vial with steady fingers and let two drops of liquid to mix with his
blood. Ginny saw the contents of the goblet start to fizz for a few seconds before it settled down
again. He chanted some more incomprehensible words, both palms held over the goblet. Through with
that, he took the final content of the box and with his right hand, took out a powdery substance
and sprinkled it precisely over the goblet, chanting all the while. As the powdery substance
(almost like fairy dusts) came in contact with the blood mixture, thick smoke started emitting from
the goblet, flowing over the rim. Ginny was fascinated by the cloud, the silver/gray color eerily
similar to Luke and Nicole's eyes, as well as Draco's, and as she looked up to lock eyes
with Lucius, his as well.

Without breaking their staring match, Lucius dipped the index finger of his right hand into the
cup and when he withdrew it, a ball of crystal silver hovered over his finger, the swirling mist
inside the ball changing colors constantly from black to red to white, then to blue, to green and
gray, and finally silver; it looked like a tempest brewing inside a fragile container. Lucius
carefully moved his finger towards Luke's head, where the ball then hovered for a few seconds
after Lucius had removed his finger before it descended on the boy's forehead. Luke did not
seem to mind the foreign substance touching his skin, too engrossed in smiling at his grandfather,
his arms reaching out to him, his stubby legs drawn tightly to his body. Lucius repeated the
procedure with Nicole, taking the same care in movement he'd done with Luke.

Lucius took a step back from the altar and his eyes still locked with Ginny's, he began to
chant the spell to complete the ritual. Ginny didn't know how she knew, but as she looked at
Lucius, his words started to make sense to her though he was still speaking in a different
language:

*My Blood bears the legacy of Malfoys from generations past.*

*As the blood of my heart now touches yours,*

*So shall it flow in your veins.*

*And as your heart beats, everything that I am is yours:*

*My loyalty, my courage, my strength, my burden.*

*I give to you my history, my legacy,*

*And in witness of family, friends and enemies,*

*I say this now without greed, coercion or malice:*

*Life of mine flow through them*

*Life of mine I give to them*

*Blood of mine I offer to them*

*Blood of mine I bestow upon them*

*May the oath I speak now be heard through the ages:*

*I am Lucius Malfoy and this I have sworn*

*Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne,*

*You are Malfoys born.*

As Lucius was reciting the spell, the crystal ball penetrated the fragile skin of both
infant's forehead, a silvery glow enveloping their body slowly from their head down to the tips
of their toes until, to those looking in, the tiny beings looked more like mirages instead of two
living breathing beings. As soon as Lucius finished the spell, the glow around the twins also
dissipated, and along with the end of the ritual, the repelling spell also ended.

Ginny immediately rushed forward and picked up Luke, then with great difficulty, Nicole. Her
pulse was still beating frantically, she doubted she'd rest easy for awhile yet, but she was
just happy that her twins were obviously unharmed. She refused to feel ashamed for acting the
hysterical mother earlier, she had every right to overreact to what was happening; she trusted
Lucius about as far as she could throw him and it would take considerable effort for anybody to
change her mind about him.

As she cooed to her babies, her parents, Bill and her friends surrounding her, she spied Lucius
carefully putting away the implements of the ritual, Dumbledore, Snape and Zabini standing behind
him quietly. As she was looking at them, she didn't miss Lucius stagger slightly on his feet
before he was able to catch himself. Snape was beside him instantly but Lucius waved away his
assistance, assuring the Potion's Professor and his life long friend that he was all right.
Snape wanted to argue with him some more but one touch from Dumbledore silenced him. She briefly
thought that the whole ritual must be quite taxing on the one performing it, if the pallor on
Lucius' face was any indication. She surreptitiously kept an eye on the blond while rocking
Luke and Nicole in her arms and braced herself when he started for her.

When he was standing in front of her, she raised her chin defiantly and looked him in the
eye.

“I think it's high time for the explanations to commence, Ms. Weasley.”

---------

A/N:

**curly-sue:** Yes, Blaise will appear from time to time. I have plans for our favorite
Italian, but I'm still debating whether I'll lean toward that direction definitively or
not. Depends really on the flow of the story. And I'm sorry about the cliffies, I don't
actually set out to do that, it just somehow happens that way.

**becca:** Yes, it's *a* Malfoy, but not the one you want, sorry.

**Gin:** Yes, I'm keeping Blaise, I'm having too much fun playing around with his
character to junk him. And like what I've told curly-sue, barring any major disaster, I have
something extra delicious coming up for our Italian stallion.

**Goldmund:** I don't have the heart to say no to your request. Hope you liked the
chapters.

-->



13. The Book of Malfoys
-----------------------



**Chapter 13:** **The Book of Malfoys**

It had been a long night and it promised to get even longer. Ginny's legendary self-control
had taken too many beatings since she had gotten involved with a Malfoy, and tonight's
spectacle was the worst one yet. As she made her way back to the living room, now returned to its
previous state after putting the twins to bed, and getting a promise from Colin not to take his
eyes off them even for a second, she made a promise to herself that she would not act the demented
female again. Now that Lucius had magically claimed Luke and Nicole, there was no need for her to
worry about their safety. Blood-binding ceremonies were the most sacred of all rituals, more
irrevocable than any other contracts in existence, and for Lucius to take it a step further by
basically connecting his life force with the twins, it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he
really did care for them. Unless he was suicidal, of course, which she was pretty sure he was
not.

She stopped a few steps from the living room and, out of sight, she observed the five remaining
people sitting quietly and waiting for her return. Her mother sat beside her father, their hands
clasped tightly together; they weren't talking, but occasionally they would look at each other
and everything they wanted to say was communicated through that brief eye contact. Her brother,
Bill was standing by the fireplace, staring into the roaring fire unseeingly, his left arm propped
on the mantelpiece. She could see that her brother was very agitated and tense, and she could
totally relate to the way he was feeling; she herself was still liable to jump in fright at the
slightest sound.

Dumbledore was sitting across her parents, his robes arranged neatly around his tall frame, his
hands idly drumming on his knees, and if she squinted her eyes just so, she could see a hint of a
smile on his lips. Lucius sat beside Dumbledore, and the way he was sitting with his back ramrod
straight, she didn't need a seer to tell her that he was uncomfortable. Grandfather to a
Weasley notwithstanding, he was just plain uneasy in a place that positively reeked of poverty. It
must really pay off, perfecting that aloof and stoic façade, in cases where diplomacy was of the
utmost importance. But she'd bet all the galleons in her Gringotts account that this was the
first time Lucius Malfoy had ever needed that vaunted self-control in full force. If what she had
to face weren't so terribly critical, she'd probably laugh her head off at his discomfort,
but there was still so much left hanging in the balance, and until she got all the facts straight
from the horse's mouth, so to speak, she was going to have to take a rain-check on taunting the
formidable wizard. Others may view provoking the aristocrat as a form of death wish, but if she
hadn't feared him in her first year when he had practically handed her over to Voldemort, she
was certainly not going to shake in her boots now that he was hell-bent on sticking his name to her
children's.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared the last few steps of the stairs, and with all five pairs of
eyes now trained on her, she took the seat facing the fireplace and took her sweet time finding a
comfortable position. She knew she was stalling, but as much as she wanted to finally understand
what was going on, she also dreaded whatever it was she was soon to find out.

Finally, unable to stand the wait, she raised her head and looked directly at Lucius Malfoy.
Then had a great difficulty restraining herself from sticking her tongue out at him when she saw he
was smiling at her knowingly. He knew exactly how mixed up her feelings were and was probably
delighting in getting a bit of his own back at her. Pompous git!

“Right then!” Ginny exclaimed loudly. “Where to begin?”

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter oddly, surprised by her tone. She turned to look at her
husband, who in turn also gave her a perplexed look and a helpless shrug. Taking a deep breath, she
decided to skirt around the issue a bit.

“We know you probably have a lot of questions, Gin,” she began, “and we're sorry if we gave
you the impression that we were keeping something from you. Though, of course we kept something
from you, it was necessary. We just didn't want you to panic and think that we don't care
about the twins; they're our first grandchildren after all and - ”

“Molly, you're babbling, dear,” Arthur said quietly, giving his wife's hand an
encouraging squeeze.

“Sorry,” Mrs. Weasley said sheepishly, casting apologetic looks at everybody around the living
room. “What I'm trying to say is that we could not answer your questions before, whatever those
might be, because we would be doing you a great disservice by telling you things we ourselves
probably only know half the story of.” She looked briefly at her husband before continuing.
“I'm sure you're not too happy about Lucius knowing about you and Luke and Nicole, and
believe me, it was also quite a shock to us when he came and told us he knew about your condition.
That was probably why your father didn't immediately hex him off the Burrow when he came and
talked to us, he was too caught off guard to do anything but blink and gape.” She smiled at her
husband's flush, which was probably also due in part to Lucius' smirk. Oh yeah, he was
getting more comfortable by the minute, all right.

“We debated on whether we should tell you right away, especially after the story broke, but
Lucius convinced us it wasn't the right time. Then Draco went away, and you had to go away too,
so that sort of effectively cut off the need to tell.” She smiled at her daughter hesitantly.
“Please don't be angry with us, we never meant to keep you in the dark forever. It was always
planned that the twins christening would be the right time to reveal everything. And since Lucius
is the only one who can really explain to you all that have taken place in the past eleven months,
we have decided to let him do all the explaining so there won't be any confusions in the
future.” She smiled more easily when she saw Ginny nod in understanding. “Now, what is it do you
want to know?”

“If it wasn't you and Dad who told Lucius, then who did? Why d'you seem to trust him so
much after everything that have happened? And why do I get the feeling that Lucius is pulling all
the strings here?” Her questions were directed at her parents, but she wasn't all that
surprised when it was Lucius who answered.

“For you to understand, Ms. Weasley, it is best if we start from the beginning.” He waited for
Ginny's nod before continuing. “I am not going to mince words and just say my allegiance
several years back were rather - dubious, at best. In fact, I know you know just what my
inclinations were in those difficult times, having been a victim of my - *fanaticism*. I have
no excuse for what I did, I knew full well the motivations behind my actions, and was greatly
disappointed when my machinations failed.” He locked eyes with the young witch; he was baring his
soul to this woman, something that no Malfoy has ever willingly done before, but if it will help
her gain insight into the mind of a Malfoy, then so be it.

“Did you know that your mother and I was once betrothed, Ms. Weasley?” The smile that graced his
lips at Ginny's gasp was a sad one. “Oh yes, we were betrothed at birth. It was quite a coup
for both our families; they called it the match of the century,” he avowed sarcastically, shaking
his head. “There was no purer line than the Malfoys and the Prewetts, and I grew up secure in the
knowledge that I would one day have a wife that was equal to me in every way.”

Ginny's mouth was currently in the vicinity of the floor. Hearing her mother and Lucius
Malfoy, together, was such a fantastic story there could be no way for it to be true. But when she
looked at her parents, there was an air of overwhelming guilt about them that she knew at once
Lucius had told the truth. It absolutely boggled the mind, Molly and Lucius having any sort of a
relationship, that she had to shake her head several times to get her mind back to the matter at
hand. Still, she couldn't help compare her gentle, pretty mother to the statuesque and
haughtily beautiful woman that was Draco's mother. She loved her mother, but her innate honesty
pointed out that Molly Weasley could never hold a candle to Narcisa Malfoy.

“I know you find it hard to believe, but I loved your mother. She was the one loss I found hard
to get over for a long time, and I regretted every day that I never told her how I felt, never
showed her what she meant to me. I'm a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't wear their hearts on their
sleeves. So my father told me.” He looked off into the distance, lost in reminiscing.

“I didn't marry until ten years later, which turned out to be an even bigger disaster. I
married for all the wrong reasons, and I blamed and resented my wife for it. And I could not bear
the sight of my son.” He sighed deeply. “I thought of my own family as a trap that kept me from the
one that I really wanted; I conveniently forgot that what I wanted was no longer available to me.
Every time that Narcissa conceded to my demands, I remembered Molly's defiance of me, and every
time Draco cowered in fear of me, I couldn't help but compare him to William, who was such a
strong and brilliant young man. I overlooked the fact that there was almost a good ten years age
difference between them. I dwelt too much with the what ifs in my life, so much so that I forgot to
live in the present.”

Ginny didn't immediately recognize who this William he was talking about, not until she
caught Bill shifting uncomfortably from his position by the fireplace. Bill was never called
William, his real name, unless her mother was annoyed by him. Now she was hearing Lucius compared
Draco to Bill? Was the man daft?

“Were you *Crucio'd* one time too many? How could a boy possibly come up to scratch
when pitted against a man?” Ginny didn't know it, but her defense of Draco proved that she was,
and would always be, his woman.

“Like I said, Ms. Weasley, I dwelt too much on what I had lost. I lived too much in the past, I
neglected to acknowledge that my present was vastly different. Now do you understand why your
father and I could never stand each other? For the longest time, he was the pauper who had the
gumption to steal my bride, and for that I wanted to eliminate his line. That was when I entered
into Voldemort's servitude. I don't have to tell you how that ended,” he said derisively.
“His defeat at Potter's hand left me more bitter. I failed, I thought then. My colleagues and I
were not able to get to your father and because of that, I became more harsh, and I took out that
anger on the only people who would never think to defend themselves against me. I never laid a hand
on either my wife or my son, Ms. Weasley,” he said, seeing the condemnation in her eyes and
interpreting it to mean she thought he beat his defenseless family, “but in every aspect, emotional
abuse is worse than if I had physically injured them. At least then, once the physical evidence of
the abuse faded away, they could go on pretending that it would never happen again. I never thought
for one second what my actions would do to them.”

He looked at Molly Weasley, sitting closely with her husband, their hands intertwined. “I never
had that,” he said, gesturing to their clasped hands, “and I didn't think I would ever want
that either. It wasn't until Draco was ten that I finally woke up, and realized what I had
lost. I won't go into great detail as to what triggered my change of heart; suffice it to say,
I had ten years to make up for. Fortunately, my wife welcomed my attempts to correct my mistakes.
Unfortunately, my son wasn't so inclined.”

Ginny was getting more confused. She didn't understand why Lucius was telling them their
history; there was no connection between what happened between her and Draco, to that of Lucius and
her mother. She and Draco weren't betrothed, nor will they ever be. And that story about Draco
not forgiving his father? She found it hard to reconcile the boy she knew to the one Lucius was
describing. As far back as she could remember, Draco was forever extolling his father's virtues
to all those who were wont to listen, and even to those who weren't. He was always `My father
this, my father that'. Who was the real Draco then?

“Why are you telling me all this?” Ginny asked quietly. “I have no opinion about your history
with my Mum, that was over and done with a long time ago. And as for Draco; I have never heard him
say anything derogatory about you, so I really have to say that I don't believe what you're
telling me right now.” She looked at her parents, who were avoiding her eyes, then at her brother,
whose jaw was clenched tight, then finally to Dumbledore, who looked sad for once. “I fail to see
where your tale could possibly lead to the discovery of my pregnancy,” she said finally, deciding
to ignore the different reactions of her family and the wizened wizard.

Lucius laughed mirthlessly. “Of course he won't say anything against me, he's a Malfoy
after all; he knew better than to air our dirty laundry in public.” Abruptly, he stood up and
walked over to the window overlooking the front yard, gazing into the inky blackness of night.
“Everything that I have told you thus far is important for you to know. At least, if you know a bit
about my son, you won't judge him so harshly.” He leaned heavily on the window ledge. “Were you
aware that Veela blood runs in the Malfoy's veins, Ms. Weasley?” He looked over his shoulder to
gauge the young woman's reaction. “It's not as predominant as it once was five hundred
years ago, and no, we don't turn into avian creatures with fangs,” he said dryly, seeing the
horrified look on her face.

He turned around and perched on the ledge, his arms crossed across his chest. “One significant
trait that we haven't been able to escape from, though, is the fact that we still get assigned
one mate in our lifetime. *One**.* When I said that I was betrothed to your mother, I
failed to mention that she was also my mate.” He gestured a hand at the couple sitting close
together with their backs to him. “Do you see now how much I lost when your father decided to help
himself to what was, for all intents and purposes, mine? Malfoy men don't take too kindly to
any slight done them, Ms. Weasley. And more often than not, we retaliate indiscriminately.” He
turned around again and raised his head to the skies.

“My father was a harsh man, and though I vowed I would never grow up to be like him, I,
nevertheless, became him. Probably the only good thing he ever did for me was when he broke the
bond I shared with your mother. It, at least, gave me a chance to have a family of my own one day.
The process was easy enough, but its long term effect was questionable. It also helped that I was
never able to mark your mother; if I had, I don't think we'd be here now talking about
twenty years worth of history.” He took a deep breath once, then walked back to his previous seat
beside Dumbledore.

“Before my father died, almost ten years ago, he gave me a book. It was heavily warded, but it
wasn't all that remarkable in appearance, so I set it aside. I forgot about it, to tell you the
truth, until four years ago, when I was on the run from the Ministry and I was holed up in the
Manor for weeks at a time, with only the house elves for company. All I had was time in my hands,
and I spent it exploring every nook and cranny of my home. That's when I unearthed the book.
Since there wasn't anything else better to do, I spent my days trying to break through its
protective barriers. It took me a year to open that cursed book, and when I finally saw what was
written on it, I knew then that I had to do something to ensure my son would not make the same
mistakes I did. It was almost too late when I approached Dumbledore and offered my help in bringing
down Voldemort. I couldn't blame him for suspecting I had a hidden agenda, because I did, but
not the agenda he thought I must have had.”

“A book?” Ginny stated blandly. “You changed sides because of a book.”

Lucius nodded once. “But it's not just any book, Ms. Weasley. You have to understand that I
have tried to make amends to my son but I was getting nowhere with him. I have kept him from
knowing anything about my associations with Voldemort, and have staunchly refused all demands that
I initiate him into the Death Eater circle. Yes, Ms. Weasley,” he said, noting the deathly pallor
that came over the young woman, “Voldemort wanted Draco marked when he turned sixteen. He thought
it would be quite a coup if the next Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a
Death Eater, but I would not give in to his request. That was probably the only time, and the only
issue, I ever refused to yield to him. I didn't want my son to share my fate, I wanted to spare
him the indignities of my poor choice.”

“But - but I always thought he knew, about everything,” Ginny stammered. “He was always bragging
about Voldemort to Harry and Hermione and to all those who would listen. I know he's not a
Death Eater, but he might as well be if you listen to him talk.”

“My son is an ornery bugger, Ms. Weasley,” Lucius said, smirking proudly, “and he hates Potter
and Gryffindors about as much as he hates me. If he thought goading the Golden Trio about Voldemort
would get their hackles up, you can bet your life he'd milk that knowledge for all its worth.
He'd probably wear him around his neck just to spite them. Remember his third year and the
dementor incident?” He smirked even more when an amused grin graced Ginny's lips at the memory
of Draco trying to unhinge Harry by donning a Dementor's garb, only to have the scare of his
life when Harry sent a Patronus his way.

“He would never just accept others opinion, and if you forced it on him, he'll defy you to
the very end, himself be damned. Knowing that about him, I didn't know what his reaction would
be if he knew about my involvement with the Dark Lord, so if he somehow was aware about that part
of my life, you can be sure it wasn't I who told him of it.”

Ginny bit her lip in thought. Most of what Lucius was saying was true. Draco did have the habit
of doing the opposite of what others thought he'd do. When she'd started having feelings
for him, she had carefully studied him without letting on to anybody that she was doing it, and she
had discovered that what he hated the most was conformity. He hated expectations, which was the
driving force behind his obsession at defeating Harry at everything, from Quidditch to academics.
He was somewhat successful at the latter, but he could never best him in the former, and he would
sometimes display the most self-destructive behavior known to wizardkind because of what he viewed
as total failure.

It got even worse when he got wind of the fact that their fellow students expected him to lose
to Harry. That was why he had fought for the side of light in the war; not because he had seen the
error of his ways and wanted to turn over a new leaf, or that he had realized the evil that
Voldemort would bring into both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds; certainly not because he wanted to
befriend the Golden Trio. No, Draco Malfoy fought with the Order of the Phoenix because he wanted
to prove that he could best Harry in hand to hand combat. He would have probably faced off
Voldemort just to show that he was the better wizard than that orphan boy he had labeled four-eyed
freak. Yes, Draco Malfoy was a war hero, but he probably gave his Order of Merlin First Class medal
about as much importance as bedding a random witch he'd met in his bar or in an obscure
one.

“Okay,” Ginny said into the silence that descended the room, “I have to admit I've noticed
that about Draco as well. But what I don't quite understand is why this book you're talking
about should change your whole perspective overnight. I thought it's very difficult to turn
your back on being a Death Eater, yet you seem not to have been any worse for the wear from your
defection.”

“It's not difficult, it's impossible,” Lucius replied simply. “The only way a Death
Eater can leave Voldemort's service is by way of death. That's why very few, if any, live
to tell about their stint as a Death Eater.” He locked eyes with Ginny again to impress upon her
the gravity of what he was about to reveal to them. “I knew the danger of betraying the Dark Lord;
I wasn't sure if I would live to see another day after I had made the decision to change sides,
but it was imperative that I do so. I did it not because it was scribed that Voldemort would be
defeated once and for all, but because if I didn't, my line would end. I am not so much a
selfish man as I am a Slytherin at heart, Ms. Weasley, and a Malfoy. I would do anything to ensure
the continuation of my bloodline, and if I had carried on the way I had been, it would be almost a
certainty that Draco would be the last Malfoy. I see I have peaked your interest at last,” he
remarked mildly as he noted Ginny straighten in her seat, her eyes rapt.

“This book I have been talking about is inappropriately named *Book* *of Malfoys*. I
say inappropriately because it not only tells about the fate of my family, but also of the world we
are living in. I don't know much about its origin, my father never told me where his father,
and his father before him, got hold of it. All I know is that for as long as there is a living
Malfoy in possession of the book, it will continue to transcribe events that will take place in
years yet to come. You must be thinking that this book could have greatly helped Voldemort in his
campaign,” he deduced wisely. “I am happy to tell you that even if he had known about the book and
somehow had gotten hold of it, it would be useless to him as the book will only yield information
to the current owner of it, which would be the head of the Malfoy family. It's quite a heavy
load to bear, knowing what I do; the temptation to try and shape the future to my advantage is very
difficult to resist.” He looked up to the ceiling intently, as though trying to see through the
cracks to where the twins lay sleeping.

“To answer your earlier question; it was the book that told me of the conception of the new
Malfoy heir. When I said that the *Book of M**a**lfoys* contains events that will
happen in the future, I meant it literally. As such, it records new additions into the family tree
the moment a Malfoy consummates and thereby seals his bond with his mate. That is the only
limitation to the book as far as its accuracy is concerned. Your name had been written down since
you were sixteen years old, but it was only on the night of your eighteenth birthday that Luke and
Nicole's names appeared.” Slate gray eyes slanted her way briefly. “Can't really say I was
surprised when that happened, and to be perfectly blunt, I had expected it would happen much
earlier actually.”

Ginny's face was on fire. She couldn't look the adults in the eye after that
illuminating bit of information care of Lucius Malfoy. Her mother knew when she'd gotten
pregnant, of course, but her father, brother and Dumbledore certainly did not need to know when
she'd decided to lose her head and got knocked up in the process. In her opinion, that was just
more information than was needed to be put out there. Then something nagged incessantly at the back
of her mind, and she gasped, the beet-red color draining from her face to be replaced with deathly
pallor again.

“If - if you know, then does that mean that - ”

“No, he does not,” Lucius said, cutting her off. “I have been a lot of things, Ms. Weasley, I
have done a lot of things, but there is one thing I vowed I would never do: no matter how badly I
wanted something, I would never force my will on my son. I have tried to respect his choices, even
if am not happy with most of the decision he's made in his life. I may have been overly
critical of his failures, but it was done to challenge him to do better. I am not going to tell you
that my opinions of Muggles and Mudbloods have changed for I am not in the habit of lying to
myself.” His eyes darkened in his effort to control himself before he continued speaking.

“When I finally saw what I have wanted to see for more than a year, I expected Draco to come
forward and declare his intention to wed you; after all, there was already a baby involved, two
babies. But when he did not, I presumed that there was to be no wedding after all, that Draco had
no knowledge of the pregnancy. Whether it was his fault or not, when you failed to get together, I
don't know. I just knew I had to do something. It was not for me to tell him about you, so I
kept the news to myself. He usually isn't very tight-lipped about his sex life, but this time
was different. He would have been highly suspicious if I had confronted him about it, so I made
sure that no rumor reached his ears, even when the *Daily Prophet* plastered your pregnancy
all over the front page. If he had known, he would surely have insisted he marry you and that,
I'm afraid, would have been a disaster. He doesn't know what he wants yet, and until such a
time he does, you can't be together.”

Ginny was speechless. She could not believe what she was hearing. “You seem so sure that I'd
still take him back,” she said tartly. “Do you even know what he did to me? Of course not; if you
did, you wouldn't be so cocky, so sure that I would gladly welcome him once he finally pulls
his head out of his arse. What if I meet somebody else and decide to marry him? What then? My
husband could always adopt my children and that will be that.”

“What I've said thus far hasn't really sunk in yet, has it, Ms. Weasley?” He leaned back
on the sofa and crossed his legs. “When I said that we Malfoys have the blood of a Veela, did you
wonder about its significance in your relationship with Draco?” He hid a sly smile when he saw the
confusion on Ginny's face.

“About five hundred years ago, François Gerard Malfoy was known throughout France as the
ultimate lover. Of course, that was just putting a nice name to what he really was, a libertine,
pure and simple. He loved women, and the women, in turn, could not help but succumb to his charm,
even if they knew that he would never be true to them. He had an estate in Tours then, as well as
in Fougères, Vichy and Épernay, so he basically littered France with broken hearts. To give him
credit, he never made any promises to any of the women he took to his bed, so when he left them, he
could claim a clear conscience. But that was before he crossed paths with Helenè St. Cloud.” A
smirk blossomed on his lips.

“François described Helenè as the most beautiful witch he had ever seen and bedded. She had
blue-black hair that fell down to below her arse, the fairest, almost translucent skin without a
single freckle to mar its perfection, and the most beautiful pair of breasts his hand had had a
chance to touch and his mouth to taste.”

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Lucius looked to have been carried away by his tale
that he failed to note the amusement in Dumbledore's face, and the harassed expression on her
parent's. And Bill, Bill was looking furious, probably thinking that Lucius' talk was too
much for Ginny's tender ears. As if.

“Oh yes, Helenè was perfect,” Lucius continued, “and she knew it too. She was so confident in
her charms, had assured herself that where others failed, she would prevail, that when François
dropped her too, she became incensed. She could not bear to have polite society laughing at her
behind her back. The way François wrote it, Helenè had raised hell when she got the customary
parting gift from his man of affairs; she literally threw a royal fit.” He shrugged a shoulder in
dismissal.

“François didn't think much of it when she vowed to knock him from his pedestal, thought it
was just the ramblings of a jilted woman. Unbeknownst to him, Helenè had approached a well-known
potions maker who created a love potion according to her specifications. She'd hoped that once
she gave the potion to François, he would fall madly in love with her and would thus fail to
perform sexually with other women. She had no problem forcing the potion down his throat, it was
only a matter of arranging for a male servant to mix the concoction with his wine, a male servant
that was so dazzled by her beauty that they would do anything, even kill, just to have an
opportunity to touch her; what she hadn't taken into consideration was that the servant
wasn't too bright. He carried out her order while François was in a pub, taking refuge from the
stormy weather. There would have been no problem there as the pub's patrons were all male,
including the servers. Then came in this waif-like creature, wet to the bones, hair matted to her
head; but to François, she was the most beautiful woman that ever walked God's green earth. And
she was. It was only later that it was revealed that Cheska was a Veela, from a long line of
Veela's. François never stood a chance.”

Ginny was clearly baffled again. Lucius was going off into a tangent, and his amusement at his
ancestor's expense was downright unbelievable. His tale was interesting enough, but she just
didn't know if they were approaching anywhere near the heart of her predicament.

“It came to pass that all of François' children and grandchildren and so forth, had the
Veela blood coursing through their veins. It is interesting to note though, that the potion which
made François fall in love with Cheska somehow affected their son in such a way that Michel was
only able to impregnate one woman despite following in his father's profligate ways. Since
Michel was an only child, despite François' efforts to add to the number of his brood,” a
chuckle, “it fell upon him to make sure the name Malfoy survived. Michel had five children, all
boys; he was very proud of that.

“As time passed, and the Malfoy children grew up and married and had their own children, all
males I might add, everything seemed right in the world. Then one by one, the Malfoy men found it
harder and harder to procreate. It was quite a mystery; how could such strong, able-bodied men, and
randy to boot, fail to produce their respective heirs. That was already about two hundred years
after François' time and oddly enough, no female had been born all that time into the Malfoy
family. It wasn't until the late 1800's that a Malfoy scholar by the name of Titus studied
the Malfoy genealogy and discovered that though the Veela blood had been considerably diluted by
the succeeding unions of the Malfoy men, the one feature that stood out through the centuries was
the gift of a mate. Gift!” he snorted, “more like a curse if you ask me. How could something that
kept a body from siring an heir except with its mate be a gift.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Anyway, Titus Malfoy immediately set out to create a spell to sever
the bonds between a Malfoy and their mates. But by that time, it was already too late. After he had
fine-tuned the spell, it was already the turn of the new century, Titus was too old to marry and
his brother, my great-grandsire, only had the one son, my grandfather, who in turn had two sons,
with one dying at a young age which left my father as the sole Malfoy heir. The spell was first
used on him; my mother was not his mate, so to ensure that the Malfoy name won't end, my
grandfather performed the spell on him. He never did get to meet the unfortunate witch that was his
mate.

“Then there's me.” He cast a pointed look at Molly and Arthur Weasley. “I will forever go
down in the Malfoy history as the fox inside the henhouse who ended up with eggs.” He shrugged. “No
matter though, what's done is done. My father didn't waste any time severing the bond, and
Narcissa and I had Draco.”

Ginny had a really bad feeling when Lucius would not look her straight in the eye.

“Then there's you and Draco.”

Ginny's back stiffened. “Wait, wait,” she interrupted hurriedly. “You aren't seriously
trying to imply that I'm Draco's mate?” She laughed, but even she could hear how forced her
hilarity was.

“I'm not implying, Ms. Weasley, I'm telling you that you are.” He turned his body around
to face her completely. “Like I said before, your name had been written down in the book since you
were sixteen, and you consummated your bond with my son when you were eighteen. I am not sorry to
say that you no longer have a choice in who you end up with, Ms. Weasley. There is no meeting
somebody else, nor marrying somebody else.” Slate gray eyes glittered dangerously as his voice
lowered. “And my son would not be held accountable if he commits a crime against men he thinks are
trying to take away what's his.”

Abruptly, he drew out his wand, laying it across his lap and running a finger along its smooth
length lovingly. “Once a person with Veela blood marks his mate, as Draco has marked you, even if
he was unaware that you were his mate, the woman is bound to him until the day she dies. She can
never accept the attention of another male and if she forces the issue, she will experience pain
the like of which she has never felt before. Do you never wonder why you fell in love with my son
despite the animosity between our families and yourselves? That's because once the mate reaches
the age of majority, which happens to be sixteen by Veelas standard, if the mate is close to the
Veela, she becomes drawn to him no matter her previous feelings on the matter. Her choice is taken
away from her without her being aware of it. That's the downside to it, I guess, but it is
rather convenient, isn't it? You are rendered physically incapable of having a relationship
with somebody else.”

“Convenient? Downside?” Ginny's voice was starting to rise to the level of a banshee.
“That's barbaric! How can you sit there, calmly telling me that I have no choice in who I end
up with! I want you to do that spell right now, that unbinding spell! I will not be shackled to a
man who hates me!”

Lucius shook his head. “I can't. Even if I'd wanted to, it's too late now. My case
was different from Draco's, I was never able to mark your mother; Draco has marked you.”

Ginny heard the calm finality of his voice and felt the aggressiveness drain out of her. All
this time she spent trying to avoid facing up to the consequences of her action, it was all for
nothing. Sooner or later, she would be Draco's wife. Deep down inside, she was ecstatic; but
she knew that Draco would never willingly just accept the inevitability of their situation. Like
what Lucius said, he was an ornery bugger, and he'd probably kick and scream before he'd
let anybody walk all over him in the guise of destiny.

“There could be a mistake,” she said quietly, “maybe the book was wrong for once. Nothing and
nobody is perfect.”

Lucius shook his head again. “If there was ever any doubt that you were Draco's intended,
you bearing his children just erased that doubt. I didn't tamper with the book, Ms. Weasley,
much as you'd like that to be the case.”

Ginny looked helplessly at her parents. “This can't be happening to me.”

Mrs. Weasley was out of her seat at once and perched on the arm of her daughter's chair. Her
arms were around the teary-eyed young woman, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be
all right. “It won't be so bad, Gin. You love him. I know you don't want to believe it, but
you need him as well. You'll see, everything will turn out well in the end.”

Ginny was grateful for the safety of her mother's embrace, but she was afraid to believe
that her words were prophetic. “I just hope you're right, Mum. I'd hate for Luke and Nicole
to be hurt by all this.”

“Which is why Draco has to come around on his own, Ms. Weasley,” Lucius said, looking at mother
and daughter alternately. “If he doesn't, there can never be harmony between you two.” He took
a deep breath. “Which is why I haven't told Narcissa about any of this. If Narcissa knew, you
can be sure she'd be dragging Draco here to marry you forthwith so she could get to enjoy her
grandchildren. She will be greatly displeased with me once my involvement in all this is revealed.
But I will cross that bridge when I get there.”

Ginny peered at Lucius in between her mothers arms. “How can you be sure that Draco will
eventually realize his mistake and come back to me?”

“Because I know my son. He will never completely understand why he touched you, no matter what
he tells himself. He hates to leave puzzles unanswered; I only hope that when he does come, and
realize what you've kept from him, you'll be ready for him, because though a Veela may
rejoice at joining with his mate, the Malfoy in him will never forgive you for keeping his children
from him. A word to the wise, Ms. Weasley,” Lucius said gravely, “it pays to be ready. Remember
that. No matter what he's done to you, he will still act the aggrieved party.”

Ginny gulped. She didn't know how Draco will take the news of his fatherhood, several months
after the fact, and she would rather prolong the inevitable several months more. She knew she was
acting like a coward, but who wouldn't be if you were going to one day have to face a man who
could cast the killing curse without so much as a blink of an eye. He was vicious to people who
didn't do anything more than irritate him; she couldn't begin to imagine his retaliation
once he learned of Luke and Nicole. Draco was possessive and obsessive (point in fact, Harry
Potter), and she knew just how extremely paranoid he could get when protecting that which he deems
his property, be it object or people. He fought with passion, he hated with passion, and she was
heartily afraid of his reaction to the news of his fatherhood. Yes, she definitely wanted to avoid
that happening anytime soon. She could do without companionship, and sex, for a while. Really.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The soothing darkness of night was a welcome respite on Ginny's troubled soul. She lay on
her old bed, in her old room at the Burrow, staring at the patched ceiling, but her thoughts were
elsewhere. Outside, the wind blew quietly, as though loathed to disturb her contemplation.

Several hours had passed since the meeting with Lucius, and she was finding it extremely hard to
rest her scattered thoughts. She was worried, very worried; now more than ever, she feared for what
the future might bring. After everything that was said and done, she didn't think she'd
ever feel at peace with herself again.

Hearing that she and Draco were destined went a long way to easing the heavy load her choices
had set on her shoulders, but it wasn't enough to completely eliminate her guilty feelings. She
should have felt anger towards whatever malevolent force that took her choice away, but she was
just so tired; tired of putting up a brave front, tired of the guilt gnawing away at her insides,
just plain exhausted.

When Lucius had requested to visit his grandchildren whenever she came over for a visit from
America, she didn't even bother saying no. What was the point anyway? At her current state, she
was bound to lose any argument he cared to engage her in. It was just too bad of him when he took
advantage of her weakened resolve and also finagled an okay from her for him to come over and visit
Luke and Nicole over in America too. Opportunistic bleached git!

Giving up on the idea of sleep, she sat up and wrapped her arms around her drawn legs, the bed
covers bunching around her. As was always the case, her eyes turned to look at the twins, who were
fast asleep in their cots. They always slept near her. Colin had converted one of the guestrooms in
their suite back in New York into a nursery, but she had insisted that the twins were too young to
be left alone all through the night yet. Even Colin's reasonable argument that a baby monitor
would tell them just as well if there was something out of place going on in the nursery did not
help to convince her to install her babies in the other room. He had eventually given up on arguing
with her about the issue.

A sound suddenly came from Luke's cot and Ginny was out of her bed and looking down at her
son in a flash. Her mind eased when she saw that he was unharmed and still blessedly asleep. She
really had to control her jumpiness where the twins were concerned; she doubted she'd last long
being as stressed out as she was, but for the life of her she didn't know how she could
accomplish that.

Looking at her son, she could not help but sigh. Luke looked exactly like what his father must
have looked like at that age; stick-straight white blond hair, silver gray eyes; even that damned
pointy chin was all Draco's fault. At two months, he was also beginning to show some character
traits reminiscent of his sire; he was temperamental, demanding, and oddly enough, he had displayed
an aptitude for the subtle art of manipulation the day he had developed the ability to smile. There
wasn't anybody immune to that smile of his; even Ron, who considered Draco the worst scum on
earth hell had ever regurgitated, turned to a blubbering idiot when his nephew smiled at him. He
only had to start whimpering to have any number of witches or wizards catering to his every need.
The only time he had been ignored when he showed his displeasure was a few hours ago, by Ginny
herself, who wouldn't have noticed her son's distress if it was being broadcasted via
flashing letters up on top of a gigantic billboard. Yes, Luke was Draco, or at least, the older
version of Draco, if what she had learned tonight had any basis in fact at all. She still found it
difficult to imagine a fearful Draco as a child.

Nicole, however, was the complete antithesis of her brother. Physically, they had the same
coloring, but that was as far as the similarity goes. Nicole was a very quiet infant; that was the
only word Ginny could use to describe this daughter of hers. She never makes a fuss; in fact, she
never makes any sort of noise at all beyond the necessary. Ginny had noticed that she seemed to
prefer listening to the sounds around her, only her eyes following the movements of whoever was
around. She reminded Ginny of a cat, watchful, intense; she just didn't know if later on,
Nicole would also manifest a feline's less than stellar characteristics, that is, viciousness
and cunning. She certainly hoped not.

She had been worried initially by Nicole's unusual silence, thinking there might be
something physically wrong with her little girl, a congenital defect maybe, considering the
Weasleys were distantly related to the Malfoys. Thank Merlin her pediatrician eased her mind on
that score right away.

Giving each infant one last lingering look, she turned to pick up her dressing robe from the
foot of her bed and silently quit her room, heading for the kitchens. A glass of milk should put me
right to sleep, she thought, grimacing at the thought of the beverage. She walked quietly down the
steps and pushed open the doors to the kitchen. She halted in mid-step when she saw that somebody
was already in the kitchen, sitting in the darkened room, nursing a mug.

“Hey, Bill, why are you sitting in the dark?” she said, moving to light the lamp on one corner
of the kitchen counter and placed it on the Burrow's dining table, before moving to the stove
and began preparing to heat a glass of milk.

Bill didn't say anything, he just kept on staring at his mug, once in a while moving it
around by the handle.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at her brother. “Hey, you didn't answer me. Why were you
lurking around here in the dark?” She got a shrug for a reply. Frowning, she poured a good portion
of milk into the heated pan and waited for it to simmer before grabbing her own mug and filled it
almost to the brim. Carefully handling the mug, she sat down in front of her brother and
scrutinized his face. “You okay?”

He shrugged again. “Depends.”

That was not exactly the answer she wanted to hear. “What's wrong, Bill?” she asked,
reaching out both hands and grasping her brother's, which were still wrapped around his own
mug.

Bill sighed. “I don't know. I can't put a finger on it.”

Ginny tightened her grip on his much larger hands. “Is it about tonight, what happened with
Lucius and everything?”

Bill shook his head. “It's not only that; I just have this funny feeling in my gut, and I
can't understand what it is.” He looked up and stared at Ginny. “When I was watching Lucius
doing that ritual, and then later, listening to him about his family history and whatnot, I got
this heavy feeling in my chest. And I don't think it was about what he was doing and saying at
all.”

“So you think all that Lucius said was true then?”

“He was awfully candid,” Bill replied evasively, “and he really had no reason to lie, does he?
After all, he already got what he wanted.”

“What about that part about him comparing Draco to you? Do you believe that?” Ginny valued
Bill's opinion, and if Bill thought that Lucius was telling the truth, her uneasiness could be
eased considerably.

“I don't know, it sounds like something he might do. Although, come to think of it,” he said
suddenly, “I do recall times when I was still in Hogwarts and he would come to the school. He was
always polite to me, and Dumbledore once told me that it was Lucius who voted strongly for my
appointment as Head Boy. I didn't understand why he would do that, I knew how much he hated our
family. The mystery's over then, I guess.” He gave Ginny a lopsided grin and a slight shake of
the head.

Ginny drew back her hands, picked up her mug and took a healthy sip of the warm milk, grimacing
again at the taste. “I don't really know what to think about all this,” she said softly.
“Everything just happened so fast. I had the twins future all mapped out, and then this happens.
I'm not even sure what Lucius did was a good thing or not.”

Bill nodded. “I know what you mean. After all, they've already kept a lot of things secret
from you. Makes you wonder if all that was revealed tonight is all there is to be revealed,
doesn't it?”

Ginny's eyes narrowed and her mug halted halfway to her lips. “Do you know something I
should be aware about, Bill?”

Bill shook his head. “I know about as much as you do. But hasn't it occurred to you that
with all the disclosures done tonight, some pertinent ones may have somehow slipped through the
cracks? For all Luciu's *honesty*, there might be some details he left out in the telling.
He won't be lying per se, but - ” He trailed off suggestively.

“Lying by omission is still lying,” Ginny concluded. “I know. Why do you think I'm having so
much trouble sleeping? Most of what he said about Draco can be corroborated, but that's about
the only thing I could be completely certain about.” She ran a hand through her hair in
frustration. “I don't think I'll ever trust him completely, but Mum and Dad seems to have
taken him on his word.”

“C'mon, Gin, you know Mum and Dad, they're too kind and trusting, they believe everyone
is inherently good.” Bill scoffed. “They never fail to dig up redeeming qualities on even the
meanest villain on earth.”

“That might be so, Bill, but you and I both know the exception to that rule is Lucius Malfoy.
He's the only person who can entice Dad to do violent things. So for Dad and Mum to do a 180 on
him, there must have been something that convinced them of his altruistic motives. I have to have
faith that that's the case here, and not something sinister that we have no control over.”

“I hope so too, Gin, for your sake, and the twins,” Bill said gravely.

They fell silent for a while, each sipping their own brew. Ginny took the time to study the
eldest of the Weasley siblings, and she could not help but notice the many changes in him. He was
still very handsome, she felt absurdly proud about that, but there were also clear signs of stress
on his face. There was a far away look in his eyes, and his easy going manner seemed to be a thing
of the past. He had become very serious as of late, and she could still remember clearly how he had
adamantly refused to talk about the real reason why he had opted to be transferred from field duty
in Egypt, which he loved, to a desk job at Gringotts in Diagon Alley. Most puzzling of all had been
his response when Fred and George had kidded him about Fleur Delacour, and his outward reaction on
seeing Luke and Nicole for the first time. Something was definitely up with him.

“What's wrong, Bill?”

Ginny's question was so unexpected that Bill did not know what she meant at first. But when
he saw the inquisitive look in her eyes, he felt his defenses rise up involuntarily.

“Nothing,” he said abruptly, his tone clearly implying that he was not in the mood to discuss
him and his problems.

“It's not nothing,” Ginny persisted. “You've been different since you came back from
Egypt permanently, and I want to know what's bothering you.”

“Drop it, Ginny,” he said ominously, his grip on his mug approaching threatening levels.

Ginny eyed him curiously, ignoring his tone. She had a hunch about what was making his brother
act like such a bear, and she was reckless enough to stir the pot to boiling point.

“So,” she began nonchalantly. “How's Fleur?” Ginny watched the most curious of reactions
flicker across her brother's face. First, he paled, then he flushed a curious shade of red,
then a look of such hatred flashed briefly in his brown eyes, eyes so identical to her own, that
made her suck in her breath in surprise, before he masked it again with a look of such indifference
it made even Draco's attempts at such an expression seem pitiful. What had happened between her
brother and the half-Veela?

“Bill - ”

“Enough!” he said firmly. “Fleur and I are not together anymore. End of story. I would
appreciate it if you could refrain from mentioning her name again from this day forward!”

Ginny knew her brother; if she kept quiet and stared at him long enough, he would eventually
break and tell her what went wrong in their relationship. They had seemed so perfect together; for
a while there she had thought Bill was finally ready to settle down. They were together for three
years, and then, in her seventh year in Hogwarts, they broke up and Bill had made the move from
Egypt to England. All he'd said then was that he and Fleur was a mistake and nothing more.

As expected, Bill was unable to withstand the heavy silence and The Stare.

“Fine!” he hissed fiercely. “You want to know what happened? Okay. Fleur was the worst thing
that happened to me. Happy now? I thought she was the one, I thought I'd finally found the
woman I could be serious with. Next thing I know, I find her in the arms of another man.” He
laughed harshly, something Ginny had never before heard him do.

“She claims I was mistaken in what I saw, that Pierre was only trying to offer her comfort.
*Comfort!* Who was she trying to fool? I've done my share of fooling around to know what I
was seeing. She won't even be honest enough to tell me when their little fling started.” He
breathed deeply, his eyes blazing. “I was about to ask that bitch to marry me! How they must have
been laughing at me behind their backs. Poor Bill Weasley, thinking somebody like a Delacour would
ever take him seriously.”

Ginny was stunned. This was the last thing she expected to hear from Bill. Calling to mind her
memory of the half-Veela, she found it hard to envision her cheating on her brother. She had been
crazy about him, her eyes sparkled whenever she talked about Bill and she was forever touching him,
as though half afraid that if part of her was not in contact with him, he would disappear on her.
She had found it disgusting, the way they acted with each other, but she would have preferred
enduring their disgusting displays of affection to this mutinous wrath her brother was currently
wallowing in.

“I'm sorry, Bill,” she said quietly. “I didn't know. I'm so sorry.”

Bill deflated at once, all the anger draining out of him. “Me too, Gin, me too.”

Ginny sought to lighten the mood. “We Weasleys are so unlucky in love, aren't we?” She
raised her mug. “Here's hoping Charlie breaks the record. After you and I, Merlin knows he
needs all the help he can get to get out from under our shadow.”

Despite himself, Bill grinned. “To Charlie and Claire,” he toasted, touching his mug to
Gin's. “May they find forever in each other's arms.”

They grinned at each other over their mugs and fell silent again, each occupied with their
thoughts. Almost a decade separated their age, and yet, they had similar problems to deal with.
Although one was unaware as of yet that a problem had been in existence for almost two years
already, the other was only too aware of the trouble the following months, maybe years, promised to
bring.

*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Molly?”

“Tell me we did the right thing.”

Silence. The occasional creaking of the rusty old bed was the only sound that could be heard
inside the dark room. The couple on the bed, Arthur and Molly Weasley, lay on their backs, wide
awake, despite the lateness of the hour. They had spoken little when they had retired to their
rooms, each thinking over the events of the evening, each weighed down heavily by the choices
they'd made. Now, the dreaded question finally reared its ugly head: Did they do the right
thing?

“I don't know, Molly,” Arthur finally answered after a lengthy evaluation of the events that
took place prior to that night. “I love Ginny, and I want the best thing for her. But did I do
right by her?” He sighed. “I can't give you an answer that will ease both our minds.”

They lapsed into silence again. It had been a difficult night, and one they never thought would
take place in a million years. It was even more difficult to hear how much pain they had brought to
three lives because of their decision to spite tradition and society, and elope. There had never
been any good feelings between Arthur and Lucius prior to that, but after Molly, all sense of
reason became obsolete and the bad blood between them festered for more than two decades, until
several months back when they were forced to extend olive branches to each other. They would never
be great friends, but the Wizarding world was now big enough for the both of them to co-exist.

“Poor Narcissa,” Molly said suddenly into the silence, “I would never wish on anybody what she
had to go through. And Draco. That poor boy must have been so unhappy.”

Arthur clenched his teeth. “Poor boy or not, I'm still going to pound some sense into that
irresponsible brat.”

“I doubt he'd just let you do that to him, Arthur,” Molly said dryly. She had never been an
advocate for violence. “He's more than twenty years your junior, and I imagine, fit as an
elephant.”

“Then I'll have Bill do it,” he answered back cheekily, “he's big enough to scare
anybody. That should do it.”

“Arthur,” Molly said reproachfully.

“What? Just because I've accepted that sooner or later Ginny would have to marry that
pureblood hoodlum doesn't mean I've forgotten what he's done to her.”

“Arthur!” Molly's tone had turned threatening.

“Fine!” Arthur Weasley relented resentfully. “Fine! Have it your way! I'll leave him alone,
but if there is so much as a hint that he's not treating my little girl right, I won't
hesitate on setting Bill and the twins on him. See if that won't straighten him out.”

Molly was thankful for the dark; her husband didn't need any more encouragement, and if he
saw her smile at his threat, he would probably think she wouldn't be averse to ruffling a few
of the younger Malfoy's feathers. She was not, in any way, excusing Draco's behavior, but
there were too many mitigating circumstances to consider and somehow, she shuddered to think of
what Fred and George could come up with to make Draco regret he was ever born with a penis. She
didn't think Ginny would appreciate their messing around with the father of her children
either, and Molly knew that her daughter could be even more dangerous than the twins when
provoked.

“You talk as though they've already gotten back together, Arthur.” She could not keep the
amusement from creeping into her voice. “It might take years before that happens, and in any case,
I don't think your daughter is ready to act on what Lucius said. In fact, I got the distinct
feeling that she's not too keen to get Draco involved in their life yet.”

Arthur turned to his left side and faced his wife. “Whether it happens tomorrow or ten years
from now, it will happen, Molly, I have no doubt about that. It goes against everything I believe
in, but I trust Lucius in this.”

Molly could well imagine the scowl on her husbands face as he said that, and she could not help
but tease him a bit. “So. Are you going to be friends now?”

“Bite your tongue woman!” Arthur said, horrified at the idea. He lay on his back again and laced
his fingers over his abdomen. He sighed raggedly. “There's too much history between us for us
to get to that point. The best we could probably act around each is civil.” He paused and thought
about the possibilities. “Will I be able to share a meal with him?” he said after a while.
“Probably. Will I be able to confide my innermost thoughts with him?” He snorted. “Hardly. I would
sooner boogie with Voldemort than do that. And I bet you he feels exactly the same way about
me.”

Molly snuggled against her husband's side and draped an arm around him and squeezed.
“That's a start, Arthur,” she whispered, and tucked her chin on the side of his neck.
“That's a good start.”

And Arthur Weasley had to agree with his wife; it *was* a good start. But not verbally, of
course.

*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*

Lucius Malfoy gingerly closed the door to his study, careful not to make a noise lest the house
elves were alerted of his return. It was quite late, later than he usually stayed out nowadays and
he knew Narcissa would not be pleased about it. Add on the fact that he had not informed her of
where he had gone off to, she was sure to express her displeasure of his inconsiderate ways.

After the war, Narcissa had made it a point to always know of his whereabouts and had even
enlisted the aid of all their house elves in monitoring his activities. It irritated him greatly,
but he also understood where her paranoia was coming from; she did not want to see her husband
imprisoned once again for suspicious activities, and though she loved him, she was not thoroughly
convinced he wouldn't be tempted by the dark side again. Ergo, the not so subtle tailing by
nervous house elves. But there were some things that required absolute discretion rather than
caution, and though he felt guilty for slipping away from his wife's appointed guards, keeping
the knowledge of their grandchildren from her was more important than his well-being.

He made his way towards his desk and settled on his high-backed chair. He leaned his head back
and took a long, shaky breath, thinking back on the path he had set out for Draco and Ginevra
Weasley. All of what he told Ginny Weasley tonight was true; however, he had lied to her when she
asked about breaking her bond with Draco. There was a way of doing it, just one way, but he was
going to make sure that he never have to do it. He had taken a lot of risks already concerning Luke
and Nicole, he would see to it that all of his sacrifices would not be for naught. The ritual
looked to have gone off without a hitch, despite the weakness such a binding ceremony had left him,
but there was only one way of making sure that it had worked, and he was heartily afraid of finding
out whether he had succeeded or failed.

Steeling his resolve, he picked up a small penknife and pricked his right index finger, then
pressed the same finger on the smooth surface of his desk. A hatch appeared in front of him and
pressing on it with his right hand, it opened. Inside, a black book with silver edgings was
revealed and this he took with reverent hands, barely steady in his mingled excitement and dread.
He placed it in front of him, fitted his palm on the front of the book and stated his name firmly.
He felt a tingling sensation in his palm and after a moment, pale light appeared for a fraction of
a second beneath his palm before fading out. He removed his hand, hesitated only for a moment
before opening the book to the latest entry: There, in clear, dark green ink, was written the name
Draco Lucien Black Malfoy, and beside his name was that of Ginevra Molly Prewett Weasley, with Luke
being named heir after Draco, and Nicole's name neatly written beneath her brother's. But
what made him take lungsful of relieved breath was the family names. Finally, after almost one year
of waiting, it was done.

He carefully touched the names of his grandchildren; the name change was done and he could
finally relax. He had been elated when the names appeared in the book, then his elation turned to
worry when time passed and the names remained Weasley. He knew he had to act quickly; there was
only a small window of opportunity in which he could change the course of his bloodline, of any
bloodline, and he was not going to let his son's stubbornness ruin his life. He knew it would
be difficult, but he was prepared to use any means at his disposal to ensure his success. Now, he
can rest easy; no matter where the fates take them, Luke's position was set in stone,
Draco's acceptance or protestations be damned.

With one last satisfied look, he closed the book and replaced it inside the compartment, traces
of its existence vanishing as soon as the hatch was closed. And not a moment too soon as well, for
as soon as it did, the door to his study was flung open and in strode his wife, looking anything
but pleased to see him. He watched her advance into the room, appreciating the flawlessness of her
beauty and form, unblemished by the passing of years. Seemingly, in the twenty years they had been
married, Narcissa Malfoy had never looked more beautiful, nor more worried.

He waited for her to reach him and prepared himself for the reprimand due him for his vanishing
act this afternoon and evening. And he wasn't mistaken.

“Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was when we couldn't find you all afternoon?
I thought something had happened to you! Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something
were to happen to you? Do you? Do you? Or don't you care?” And then Narcissa did something she
swore she would never do again: she burst into tears.

Like the next man, Lucius didn't know how to deal with a weeping female. But when he saw
that his wife was shaking with the force of her emotions, he shot out of his chair and took her in
his arms, shushing her like one would a child. She had become his rock these past few years, and to
see her now, so broken and lost, left him distinctly rattled.

“Hush now, Cissa, it's all right, I'm all right,” he whispered softly, kissing her
hair.

“Now you are,” she snapped, still sobbing, “but what if you won't be so lucky next time?
What then?”

“I'm sorry for worrying you so, but I had to take care of something of the utmost importance
today. It was never my intention to upset you.”

“Well, I am!” She glared at him, unmindful that her face was wet with her tears. “And what could
possibly be so important that you would risk your safety? What were you doing? Not meeting with
your former Death Eater friends again! I won't have it, Lucius!”

He laughed despite himself. “I don't think the people I was with today would appreciate you
calling them Death Eaters, my dear. No, no,” he assured her, “if anything, I spent most of my night
among the elite group of Aurors and Ministry officials. I was perfectly safe.”

Instead of being reassured, Narcissa looked even more horrified. “Safe! How can you say that!
You know they would love nothing more than to see you rotting in Azkaban! What were you thinking?
*Were* you thinking?”

Lucius only smiled at her sheepishly. “Don't worry, Cissa, the people I was with have long
gotten over their thirst to squash me like a bug. I doubt Dumbledore would let them even if they do
so feel inclined. No, I was perfectly safe.”

Narcissa took a deep, calming breath. “Will you tell me where you went off to, at least?”

Lucius shook his head. “Later, Cissa, I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I
promise you, the wait will be worth it. No, Cissa,” he said resolutely when she started to protest,
“I have to let nature take its course, it's the only way. There is nothing I would rather do
than share this with you but I know you, you will never be able to keep the knowledge to yourself,
so it's better this way, for everybody involved.”

Narcissa stared at her husband mutinously. She knew it was hopeless trying to change his mind
once he's set his mind into something. All she could do was wait and hope that later would come
sooner and that something wasn't going to be the one to bring forth their final downfall.

-->



14. Once Bitten....
-------------------



A/N: New year. New chapter. It was hell trying to upload this chapter. I don't know
what's wrong; I'm not sure if it's my internet connection or the site, but it's
been almost a week since I was able to even so much as get to the new upload portion of the site.
I'm not sure how long this will be a problem, coz it's seriously pissing me off.

On a lighter note, I hope I get feedback for this one. I don't know how to call this new
installment, so I'm hoping I'll hear from you all. Enjoy!

**Chapter 14: Once Bitten….**

“I don't think I'm ready, Matt, I don't think I'll ever *be* ready. I loved
him for so long. I just can't trust myself anymore.” Honey-brown eyes, glittering with unshed
tears, looked imploringly at the man holding her in his arms protectively. “Please understand.”

Matt wiped away the gathering tears caused by the bastard that the woman he loves,
unfortunately, loved. It tore away at him, seeing her looking so miserable; he was determined to
erase the memory of that sorry excuse of a man from her mind. He was far away now and he would
never be able to hurt her again, not if he had anything to say about it.

“Shh, it's all right, Gin, I'm willing to wait. I'll wait forever if that's how
long it takes.” He gently kissed her eyes, one at a time, then drew her head to his chest.
“It's over,” he whispered fiercely into her hair, “he won't be able to hurt you again, not
if you let him.” He felt her arms wrap around his waist and tighten; that brought a smile to his
face.

“Thank you, Matt. You're too good to me,” she whispered back.

He drew her away from him gently, and cupped her face, an incredibly lovely face that for the
longest time, had only known pain and self-doubt. “I would do anything for you, Gin,” he said
earnestly before lowering his face to hers and kissing her deeply. He felt her jerk slightly, as
though in pain, before she pressed her body closer to his. They kissed for a long time, unmindful
of everything around them.

Finally, they drew apart, and Matt was happy to see a smile on her beautiful face. She turned in
his arms and leaned her back against his chest, bringing his arms up to wrap around her as they
watched the last rays of the sun fade in the horizon. She closed her eyes and raised her face to
the sky, took a deep breath, the smile not leaving her face. She knew he was watching her and that
made her oddly content. He was right; it was a new day for her. No more uncertainties, no more
fears. It was time to lay the past, finally, to rest.

“Matt?”

“Yes, Gin?”

She opened her eyes, which were sparkling with mischief. “You really need to work on that kiss.
It was quite sloppy at best. If you want, I could give you pointers - ”

She didn't get to finish what she wanted to say as Matt tackled her to the ground, tickling
her mercilessly, before gallantly accepting her offer to teach him the rudiments of kissing as he
covered her mouth with his own.

“CUT!” The voice of the director broke the silence of the set. “And that's a wrap! Good
work, everyone.”

The crew broke into rounds of applause and laughter as they watched the couple on the ground
disentangle themselves from each other. They were visually perfect together, but all the staff and
crew of the movie “Fundamental Mistake” knew there was nothing going on between the two. Not for
want of trying on Nicholas Sterne's part, no. They all knew he wanted the redhead like a man
craved for water after a full day in the desert, but she was just not interested. No, Moira Welsh
had never been involved with anyone in Hollywood as far as they knew, and in the world where she
reigned, she was an oddity.

Ginny laughed easily with her costar, punching him lightly in the shoulders fondly, ignoring the
stinging she was still feeling all over her body. It was an inconvenience she had learnt to ignore
over the years every time she was even remotely intimately close with any man. It was a constant
reminder of who she was, and what was in store for her. But after four years, she had also learned
that love was a universal migraine, and unless she began to develop coping mechanisms to help her
ward off its paralyzing effect, she knew it would eat away at her insides like a canker: painful,
ugly and senseless.

She knew the handful of friends she'd made in New York could not understand her
standoffishness. She was friendly enough to the opposite sex, but when one tried to ask for more,
which was usually the case with every straight men she met, she turned into the ice maiden with a
ten foot brick wall surrounding her, keeping them out. She had a fiery personality, and her vibrant
red hair promised untold sensualities, but she kept to herself like a nun in a cloister. If they
didn't know she had two kids, all of them would swear she was a virgin. If she *had* been
a virgin, that would probably make the people in the business she was in shake their heads in
disbelief, before backing off. But she was a twenty-two-year-old single mother, and a
twenty-two-year-old single mother who looked like her in the business she was in should not be
celibate. It was almost sacrilegious to the goddess of promiscuity.

“Great job, Moira.” The film's director, George Mather, gave her a brief hug, relieved that
after four months of endless shootings, the movie was finally over. More importantly, they were
ahead of schedule and thankfully well within their budget.

“I should hope so,” Ginny said, laughing and shooting Nick a mock glare. “This great oaf just
about broke my ribs when he threw me on the ground. If I sustained serious injuries, I'll sue
his ass off and subpoena all of you as witnesses.”

All those who heard her laughed; they knew the talented Ms. Welsh had a wicked sense of humor.
She could crack them up at the most inopportune times, and had never been apologetic when she
occasionally ruined a shot because of her antics. Everybody who knew her, and those who spent more
than a few hours with her, instantly fell under her spell. She had even been called an
*Enchantress* by the National Inquirer, and it hadn't been meant as a compliment either.
The tabloid had spent months trying to dig up dirt on her, and when they found nothing, they then
accused her of being a witch who sent out invisible signals of enchantment on any show or movie she
was a part of. They would probably pee in their pants if they found out just how right they were
about the witch part.

“You can have anything of mine, My, all you have to do is ask.” The double meaning and the use
of the name people close to her had christened her with were all too clear in that heartfelt
declaration, and Ginny was once again reminded of what could never be. Nick was a very nice man;
handsome, sincere, rich. Any other woman would probably go down on their knees and thank their
lucky stars if he so much as showed an interest in them. But for the past year, he had made it
pretty obvious that he was only interested in Moira Welsh, the redhead from England, and would be
the happiest man on earth if she returned even a fraction of his regard for her. But she could
not.

“And what? Risk causing heartbreak to all those women out there hoping to bag you? I think not,
Mr. Sterne. I don't fancy bananas stuffed in my car, or rotten tomatoes winging my way.” Acting
as though he was just joking around with her was the only way she could let him down gently.

“Anyway, I'm glad that everything's settled,” George cut in. the intensity with which
Nick was looking at Moira did not sit well with him, and he felt it his duty to nip this in the
bud. He clasped Moira's hands and squeezed them. “Now, are you sure you can't be persuaded
to change your mind, my dear? The female lead in my next movie is still waiting to be cast, and I
would love to work with you again on that one.”

Ginny shook her head. “I can't, George, I'm sorry. My father has asked for me; he's
given me all this time to find myself and it's time I go back to my family. But I'll miss
you,” she said earnestly, “I'll miss all of this.”

Nick stood to one side, listening to their exchange. He had failed, he knew that now, had
probably known it all along, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. He watched her animated face,
committing to memory her beauty and the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his own. He
didn't care that it happened only as a part of the movie they were making, having her beneath
him. That was probably the last time he could be close to her and he didn't believe in wasting
opportunities.

His eyes trailed down her body, his own tightening painfully with lust at the skin left bare by
the thin shirt she wore, and those long legs clad only in denim shorts. He closed his eyes and his
hands tingled in memory of what she felt like when they were rolling around on the ground. She was
so very soft, and she fit well in his arms. For a short while he had lain in between those thighs,
and forgot that he was an Atheist; he prayed like he had never prayed before, afraid he'd
embarrass himself and her by coming like a teenage boy with his very first girl because of that
impersonal contact. He'd wanted to freeze time in that moment, but of course he couldn't,
so he did the only thing he could do.

Though it wasn't part of the script, he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing past
her lips, and damning himself once again with the knowledge of what she truly tasted like, knowing
he would never be given the chance to have that again. She was too much of a professional to push
him away though she knew the kiss was uncalled for; she had no choice but to let it continue, and
he convinced himself that she kissed him back. She didn't, of course, but he was going to take
what he could get from her then because that was the only opportunity for him to do so.

When George had ended the take, he had regretfully ended the kiss and he wanted to shoot himself
when he saw the look of pity in her eyes. He supposed he should be grateful she didn't break
his nose for his daring, but he would probably prefer her doing that to seeing how totally
unaffected she had been by his kiss. For the first time, Nicholas Sterne, the stuff women's
fantasies were made of, had been truly rejected by the one woman he would have gladly spent the
rest of his life with.

“Nick? Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and saw that George and Moira were looking at him worriedly. “I'm fine,
just tired.” He managed a smile. “So you're really retiring? You're leaving the
States?”

“Not completely, no,” Ginny answered. “But this will be the last movie I'll make. I'll
visit once in a while, see old friends, check out how my business is doing, but that's about it
for me.” She saw the expression on Nick's face and wondered again what she did in a past life
for fate to hate her so much. She could so easily fall in love with this man.

“I'll miss you,” Nick said simply.

George quietly excused himself; he sensed that there were some issues the two had to deal with
and they didn't need a shriveled old man interrupting them.

Ginny barely noticed the older man leave. She took Nick's hands in her own and brought them
to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “You're a beautiful man, Nick, any woman would be lucky to
call you her own.” Her hold on his hands tightened fractionally. “At another time, another place, I
would probably be the luckiest woman alive to have you feel so much for me.” She brought his hands
to her cheeks and kept it there for a few seconds. “I wish things were different with me, I wish I
could give you what you want,” she said wistfully. She straightened, and her sad eyes met his. “But
I am what I am, and what I am can never be with anybody.”

Nick felt hope blossom in his chest. It was a heady feeling, and he didn't want to let go of
it, ever. “But why?” he asked, grasping her arms. “What's keeping you from doing what you want?
If you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you, why can't you just let it
happen?”

“That's just it,” she said dejectedly. “I *do* want to try to be with you. But what I
want is irrelevant. I *can't* be with you, I *can't* have.” She stepped back, out
of his reach. “I'm meant for one man only, and that's that for me. In my world, where I
come from, I no longer have command of my life. He *is* my life.”

“Who, for god's sake! You've never been involved with anyone. Who is he? He can't be
all that great if he's not around, can he?”

Ginny merely looked at her feet, unable to meet his eyes. “I'm sorry, Nick, but I don't
have a choice.” She turned around and walked away from him, her head down, her shoulders slumped.
The last words he heard from her was `I don't have a choice'.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“If you don't have anything new to tell me, Mr. Chauncy, I really see no point to this
meeting you requested. And frankly, I am beginning to believe that you won't ever be able to
come up with anything more important than Ginny's infrequent visits to England in your report.”
Draco sat behind his immaculate table, one elbow propped on his armchair, the fingers of the hand
supporting his chin tapping the side of his face in a slow, steady rhythm. He had crossed his right
leg over his left, and if Mr. Chauncy were to crawl under the table, he would probably see a pair
of feet encased in shiny, expensive leather shoes swinging and tapping idly in tune to the beat of
his fingers.

Sitting like that, the blond man looked relaxed, as though he hadn't a care in the world,
but William knew he was anything but. What he was, was impatient and frustrated, and William
Chauncy knew well what that felt like. He had been feeling like that for four years now.

“Mr. Malfoy, I don't mean to be impertinent, but this job you want done is getting more
complicated as time passes. You know nobody can get near the Burrow without clearance, especially
this past year, and now that Arthur Weasley's on the verge of becoming the next Minister of
Magic, there is no way anyone could just go in, knock on his door and demand that he produce his
daughter and whatever skeletons she has stuffed in her closet.” He raked a hand through his rapidly
graying hair. This task of tracking down Ms. Weasley was vexing; the only good it had brought him
was the loss of several pounds of excess weight and a considerable reduction of his paunch. That
showed how hard he had been working towards getting the job done.

That first year of his search, he had met one dead end lead after another, but he had only felt
renewed vigor at what that meant: the task was getting more challenging and he had never been one
to back down from a challenge. It was interesting how such a slip of a girl could just vanish for
months at a time without any trace at all. None of the people he had contracted to look for her had
any luck at all; in fact, the few times he had spotted her himself were purely by chance.

He had placed a tracking spell on her and had been delighted when it worked for a time. But then
it just stopped. He didn't know whether it was because the spell had worn off, or somebody had
noticed the spell and lifted it off her.

Or she had gone out of the country.

He highly doubted the latter; he knew the finances of the Weasley family would not be able to
support the expense of traveling, and as far as he had been able to discover, the young lady was
unemployed. But it had been two years already and he was getting more and more desperate.

Without any other recourse, he had enlisted the help of friends to try and find any trace of the
elusive Ms. Weasley in America, New Zealand, Australia, China, Bulgaria and France. Nothing. Nobody
had seen, or heard of, anyone that goes by her name in any of the Wizarding communities of those
countries. An American friend of his, Irving Walker, had even tried to search for her outside the
Wizarding communities using a very powerful incantation that had never failed him before. There is
a first time for everything, they say, as his spell just kept on crashing on him in various States.
Irving had then told him that it was either the place was too populated for the spell to work
properly, or there was a Repelling spell on her that warded off anybody searching for her. In any
case, William Chauncy could not afford to do his investigation the Muggle way in a place as vast as
America.

“Didn't I tell you finding out anything about her would not be a walk in the park? All
you've been able to find out about her associations after Hogwarts was the one she had with me,
and I really don't need *you* to tell *me* how that went.”

Despite himself, William flushed. He didn't need reminding of that embarrassing
discovery.

He had only just found out about it when Malfoy requested, no, demanded, a meeting, and unable
to meet his employers eyes, Malfoy had demanded to know what he'd been able to find out that
made him so jittery. Reluctantly, he had told him, then wished the earth would open up to swallow
him whole when all he got in response to his information was the raising of one eyebrow. Malfoy had
then told him that had he wanted an accounting of his sexual endeavors, he would be sure to look
William up, but as that was not what he'd wanted done, he would greatly appreciate it if he
stayed out of his bedroom.

Of course, he didn't exactly phrase it that way, but it was too mortifying to think about
the exact words he had used to describe what he'd termed his voyeurism. William had not
bothered to point out that he was paying him to look up any affairs that Ms. Weasley may have
engaged in, and since she had been involved with Malfoy, even just that one time, then he really
should not be faulting him, William, for essentially doing what he had been commissioned to do in
the first place.

He shifted in his seat. “Mr. Weasley's inauguration is in two weeks, isn't it? Maybe
I'll be able to find out more then. I'm sure Ms. Weasley won't miss that affair.” He
wished the blond young man was amenable to his suggestion; it was the only way he could think of
after trying out so many.

Draco sighed inwardly. “It would be too late by then, Mr. Chauncy. Dianne has this insane idea
of announcing our engagement next week in the *Daily Prophet*. I want that information before
that time.”

William was greatly confused. He had thought that the reason the young Malfoy wanted to learn
about Ms. Weasley's activities was because he wanted her for himself, and he had solidified
that opinion further when he found out about their one-night stand. Now he was learning of
Malfoy's imminent engagement?

“I - I don't understand, Mr. Malfoy,” he stammered out, looking totally lost.

“All you need to know is the information I asked you to get for me,” Draco said, dismissing the
investigator's confusion. “Now what about that theory of your American friend? The Repelling
spell? Do you think that has substance?”

William shook his head. “Maybe. I don't know. There's only two ways of finding out
anyway. One would take more than two weeks, if we employ Muggle P.I.'s to do the work for us.
The other could take even longer, depending on the caliber of the Curse breaker we hire. According
to my friend, who tried to take down the spell himself, the Repelling spell was too advanced and
complicated for him to disarm. If we tried it ourselves, we'd have to find the most experienced
Curse breaker there is, and the only one I've been told who can break just about any curse in
existence would never do it for any amount of money.”

“Everybody has a price, Mr. Chauncy. Just keep upping the offer until you get a yes from him.
I'll cover whatever cost it'll take,” Draco said nonchalantly.

William shook his head again. “No, you don't get it, Mr. Malfoy. If he knew why I wanted
this particular Repelling spell taken off, and who the young lady this spell had been placed on,
he'd probably curse me to within an inch of my life.”

“Who is this Curse breaker you're talking about?” he asked, highly irritated.

“Bill Weasley.”

Draco tensed on hearing who it was.

Bill Weasley.

Ginny's brother.

His father's idea of the perfect son. He felt blood rushing to his head, the rage he always
felt at what he couldn't help coming back to taunt him.

Bill Weasley, the bane of his young life, was now going to be the one to give him the key to his
sister's life.

He stood up from his chair and walked over towards the left side of his office, the Eiffel Tower
clearly visible from a distance. Shortly after his talk with his father four years ago, he had
proceeded to move the Malfoy Holdings offices to Paris, and in that short a time, he had managed to
expand the business into what it was now, a multi-million enterprise second only to that which his
father managed in London. And he had every intention of surpassing Lucius' success in the
industry before he turned thirty.

“I want you to convince Bill Weasley to lend you his expertise in this, Mr. Chauncy. I don't
care about the cost, I want him to do it.” His vague reflection on the glass walls showed a
calculating look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“But I already told you - ”

“Don't tell him who you need his skills for,” he snapped. “Surely he doesn't need to
know who the spell had been placed on. Make up a story! Anything! Just get his cooperation.” There
was a hard edge to his voice that said his mind had been made up and there was no way it could be
unmade.

William nodded and sighed. “I'll try, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Don't try!” Draco said sharply, turning around. “Do it. I want results this time, Chauncy.
I want no excuses.”

William nodded again and stood up to leave. He was about to pass through the door when Draco
spoke again. He had turned back to face the Tower.

“Once you have the report, come see me in New York. I'll be there for a week. Just send an
owl and I'll give you directions on how to get there.” Draco heard the door close but
didn't bother moving from his spot. Soon, very soon he'll know.

*And then what,* Draco Jr. said, irritated. *What do you hope to gain anyway? You've
found a wonderful woman who isn't after your money, you should let Ginny Weasley be.*

“I have to know,” Draco said doggedly, his jaw tight.

*Draco, Draco. It's been four years, that part of your life must remain in the past.
Dianne would make you a wonderful wife**;* *she loves you. Don't ruin it.*

Draco steadfastly refused to be dissuaded from his path. He had to know, he would never be able
to rest until he knew. What, he didn't know, but he had a feeling there was something important
his father kept from him in all this time Ginny had been missing. For one, his dreams about her had
not stopped after that first one; it had even gotten progressively more vivid to the point that he
was afraid to wake up, loathed to leave the arms of Morpheus, wanting so much to stay with her and
his children. But of course, he had to wake up to the reality of his life. There was no Ginny
beside him, no little boy named Luke, and no little girl, Nicole. His reality was Dianne, a
beautiful, passionate woman he'd met in one of the charity functions Malfoy Holdings sponsored.
A young woman with a big heart, a heart that had been devoted to him for the past year. He should
love her, as much as a man like him could love; he could find no fault with her. But he
couldn't. He couldn't even be faithful to her, and he knew then he would never be able to
give her that kind of regard, however he tried.

*Unlike Ginny?* Draco Jr. guessed. *Then what are you doing with her, Draco? Why are you
with her if you can't give her your heart? You know that's all she wants from you. She
doesn't even mind if you dip your prick somewhere else occasionally, which should make you
vastly happy.*

“Ginny would never - ”

*But she's not Ginny, is she? She's Dianne. It's not fair to her, you comparing
her to a woman she has no hope of besting. You can't go on like this, Draco. It's not
normal.*

“What's normal? Nothing in my life has ever been normal! Having *you* in my *head*
can attest to how *ab*normal my life is.”

*But do you have to add more complications to your life than there already is? In a weeks time
you'll be engaged. If you had truly wanted Ginny, you wouldn't have asked Dianne to marry
you. You know Lucius wouldn't have wanted you to commit yourself like this, but since
you've never taken the time to examine his actions, you'll never understand his
motivations. And after next week, you'll have gotten all that you've worked for, but at a
price I'm not sure even you would be willing to pay.*

“What *is* it you're trying to say? Why can't you just be straight with me! If you
know something, tell me already. I'm not up to scrutinizing everything you say right now.”

*Deep down, you know what I'm talking about, Draco. You're just too afraid to face the
truth. There's only so much I can tell you.*

“You haven't told me *anything*!” Draco gritted out incredulously.

*True, but in two weeks time, I won't have to. You'll know then. I just hope the past
four years will have been worth it, but I have a feeling it won't be. And I won't be able
to help you anymore when that time comes.*

Draco was angry; at himself, at his father, at Ginny, at the infernal voice inside his head. He
felt like a puppet, with so many people pulling on his strings. He had resisted them all to the
best of his abilities, doing what he damn well pleased. He was an independent man who knew his own
mind, and he did not appreciate being told off. In a weeks time his engagement to Dianne Winters
would be announced, and their first official appearance as an engaged couple would be at the
inauguration of Arthur Weasley as the new British Minister of Magic. He fully intended to come
armed with the knowledge of Ginny's dirty laundry; that way he could convince himself that he
was doing the right thing. He would finally be able to get her out of his system and that, will be
that.

*Good luck then,* Draco Jr. said ominously. *You're going to need loads of it, I can
guarantee you that.*

*~*~*~*~*~**~*~

Ginny handed her coat to the attendant and gave him a distracted smile. It was late, much later
than she usually made an appearance to a party, but considering she had not wanted to come in the
first place, she didn't think too much of it. This party was more of the same anyway: the same
people, the same talk, the same empty praises, even the food was the same. She had tried to beg off
coming, spouting off one excuse after another, but George was not to be deterred. It was to be the
last social gathering she would be able to attend as a celebrity, and George Mather was determined
to make this night a night she would never forget. Ginny highly doubted that, but she hated
disappointing the man who had helped open the doors of the industry to her. That Colin would skin
her alive if she broke his godfather's heart was also a powerful incentive for her to come, but
that was entirely beside the point.

Ginny weaved through the crowd, smiling at people she knew, giving a little nod of
acknowledgment to those she did not wish to talk to. Mostly, she ignored the stares and envious
glances thrown her way; she had learned early on in her career that there was no pleasing everybody
and to try would only be an exercise in futility. It did not matter to most of these people that
she had a life outside of the limelight and that she valued her privacy above all else. That she
did not divulge anything beyond that which her PR staff chose to concoct would always be a strike
against her, a strike that resulted in her making the least amount of friends in a state populated
by the millions. But the few people she had made friends with she would sorely miss, her being a
witch becoming a major disadvantage only now when she knew her time in America was slowly ticking
away.

Before long, she was drawn into the usual small talk, laughing whenever it was required of her,
giving politically correct responses to highly sensitive issues, and basically just acting the
complete opposite of who she was. Once or twice she had felt an odd feeling of being closely
watched, but she dismissed it as nothing she hadn't been subjected to before. Stalkers were the
norm in the world of showbusiness, and she'd had her fair share of them over the years.

After a while, the night became even more tedious. She had already spoken with George, assuring
him that she had not changed her mind about retiring; had danced with Nick who looked at her with
such longing, she was pink-cheeked the entire time they were moving to the slow music, and the
feeling of being under a microscope persisted. She'd had a total of three glasses of Chardonnay
and she was afraid to touch a fourth lest she *really* make the night a night no one would
likely forget. The only thing left to do would be to say goodbye to her closest friend in New York,
Sarah Carter, but since she had yet to see the younger woman in the crowd, she would have to endure
the stifling environment a few moments more.

“Moira, I thought for sure you weren't going to show up.”

Speak of the devil.

Ginny turned toward the familiar voice and grinned at the one face she had been wanting to see
all night. Sarah was holding a champagne flute in each hand, her long legs making short work of the
distance between them. And on her heels was her boyfriend of two years, Mark Curtis, looking
impressive in his dark suit, a pleased smile on his handsome face when he spotted Ginny.

Sarah immediately kissed the air on each side of Ginny's cheek before thrusting one of the
glasses she was holding into the redhead's empty hands, vigorously fanning herself as soon as
she had freed that hand.

“You missed seeing him, My, I wish you could have been here when he was. I'd bet even you
and your silly morals would fly out the window just to have a taste of that blond Adonis.” She
stepped closer to Ginny and whispered conspiratorially. “Don't tell Mark, but I myself would
not hesitate if he so much as hinted he wanted to get to know me in the most primal of ways. I had
quite the trouble of keeping my panties in place when those gray eyes looked at me. God Almighty, I
thought I was going to melt right then and there.”

Ginny's brows rose. Something about what Sarah said bothered her, but for the life of her,
she could not point a finger at what it was. The little of what Sarah said of the man she was so
enthusiastic about could be easily explained as coincidence; there were lots of blond-haired,
gray-eyed men in New York, *and*, Draco would never be caught dead in the company of Muggles.
So it couldn't possibly be him.

“I heard that.” Mark frowned down at his unabashed girlfriend. “Honestly, Sarah, you're
never going to win praise for being discreet. Don't try it now.”

Ginny's lips twitched in amusement. Sarah and Mark had been going out for two years, and
Mark had simply just given up trying to turn the blonde girl into a paragon of virtue. He was a
high ranking TV executive who came from a conservative, affluent, *old* money type of family,
and his relationship with Sarah was a constant source of argument among his parents and siblings.
They *did not* approve of the young actress, thinking that Mark deserved somebody more
agreeable, more stable and responsible, someone that was not known to flirt with anybody on two
legs, be it male or female. And Sarah had not exactly helped improve their opinion of her by not
only defying their deeply ingrained beliefs, but openly mocking it.

Sarah was just Sarah. She was beautiful, sexy, spunky, funny, loyal, honest, brutally frank,
super friendly and an outrageous flirt. She had openly declared that she would flirt with whomever
she liked, whenever she liked, and either Mark take her as she was or he could go take a hike. Mark
had predictably chosen to stay. Sarah may act like a slut, but she had only been a slut with him,
that much he can vouch for.

He had almost blown it with her that first time they'd had sex. And it was just about sex;
she was very attractive, and her provocative ways in no way indicated that she was still a virgin.
She'd been eighteen then and he twenty-seven, and having a hard-on every time he was around her
was very inconvenient in fostering a professional relationship. So he decided to take care of his
problem by fucking her, as he'd crudely put it; he'd been sure that that would end his
body's uncontrolled reaction to her. What he got instead was a near heart attack at his
discovery, a busted ear drum, and the shortest orgasm in the history of the human race.

For weeks, Sarah had refused to talk to him, giving him the evil eye every time they crossed
paths, stopping short only of crossing herself to ward him off since she wasn't Catholic. He
endured her extreme reaction, partly because of his embarrassment at his loss of control. But when
her contrariness did not show any signs of improvement as the weeks passed, and her refusal to stay
within a forty foot radius from him didn't look like it would change anytime soon, his
embarrassment turned to anger. He was a grown man, a man known to be a master at all activities
pertaining to the bedroom. To have a virtual teenager making him feel like an inexperienced boy who
couldn't keep it in his pants was a severe blow to his ego. So he set out to correct her
opinion of him, whether she liked it or not, and seven weeks after that first sexual comedy, Sarah
Carter was conspicuously out of reach for three days.

The day Ginny saw her friend again, Sarah had been wearing a silly grin on her face and a
suspicious limp when she walked. She had been too shocked to ask, and she'd had a pretty good
idea what happened to the younger woman anyway, but to hear the details spewing from her
friend's mouth made her want to bury her head in the sand and never show her flushed face
again. Mark may have thoroughly changed her friend's opinion of him, but there was no way on
God's green earth that he'd be able to curtail her scandalous spirit.

“Oh, go away and suck on a lemon or something. Maybe that'll help you become less of a prude
and a bore,” she said airily, looking at her boyfriend with the corner of her eye. She acted
indifferently towards him but in truth, Mark was everything she could hope for in a man, and she
was deeply in love with him. But in an industry where sex was as casual as a handshake, and where
sexual partners were more frequently replaced than table napkins, the only way she could keep a man
such as Mark interested was by feigning an indifference she was far from feeling.

She dreaded the day he would eventually tire of her and move on to new territories, dreaded it
because she knew in her heart that she would let him go. She had always believed that were she to
love somebody, she would want him to be happy, and if he would be happier with someone else, then
why hold on? Her friends back in her hometown of Kansas had called her a fool because of this
belief and naïve to actually think she could just stand aside and let herself be hurt like that.
Since she hadn't had a boyfriend then to test out her convictions, they hadn't thought much
of it. But Sarah was firm in her stand; to her, it was better to be hurt once than to suffer a
thousand hurts later on in a relationship where only one was in love with the other.

Then Mark Curtis walked into her life and she knew that she was going to have her heart broken
later on. They came from very different backgrounds and sooner or later, that difference would
spell the end of their relationship. She loved him, yes, and she knew that he was happy enough in
their relationship, but she also had a feeling that he didn't really love her. He desired her
of course, like a hundred other men lusted after her, but she knew that he would never take someone
like her seriously. He might say otherwise, but at the end of the day, she would always remain the
farm girl who was an excellent lay, and nothing else. It hurt, thinking about their clichéd end,
but at least she had prepared herself for that day. And if what she had been a witness to tonight
was any indication, she was about to experience what a broken heart felt like.

“Can't you, for once, behave like an adult?” Mark said quietly. “You're embarrassing
yourself and me, if you haven't noticed. And didn't I tell you you shouldn't drink any
more tonight? You're nearly wasted.” He made to take the flute away but Sarah moved it out of
his reach.

Ginny looked at her two friends worriedly. This was the first time in a long time that Mark was
making a big deal out of Sarah's flirtatiousness. And Sarah was looking at him angrily, almost
ready to bite his head off. Whatever was going on between them, she had a feeling it wasn't
going to end happily.

“That's rich! Now you're accusing me of being a drunk! What? Do you think that'll
make you feel better later on?” Sarah defiantly tipped the glass to her lips and drained the entire
content in one go, flashing the furious man beside her a triumphant smirk.

Ginny was afraid of whatever was going on to escalate further. Mark looked murderous, and Sarah
was acting very much like the bitch the tabloids were constantly accusing her of being. She had to
avert disaster somehow, before they both said something they would later regret.

“What's wrong, Mark? What's going on?” Ginny asked hesitantly, not sure whether that
question was going to help any, but it was all she could think of on short notice.

“What's wrong?” Sarah answered for Mark, glaring at him. “What's wrong is that Mark here
saw something from the past and wanted it again! Why he won't just come out and say it, I
don't know! It's not like it's not obvious, even a two year old can guess what went
through his head when he saw his ex-girlfriend. Oops, my mistake, his ex-*fiancé.*”
Sarah's voice was bitter, but thankfully, still quiet.

Mark's face tightened. “Drop it, Sarah. There's no reason for you to be jealous,
there's nothing going on between me and Dianne, and there never will be.”

Sara flipped her hair over one shoulder, her chin rising up a notch. “Why? Because she just
happens to be engaged to someone else? Since when has that ever stopped you, Mark?”

Ginny started to feel really panicked. “Guys, please, don't you think you should take
whatever this is into somewhere else more private?” Ginny said nervously, hastily handing her
untouched glass as well as Sarah's empty one to a passing waiter while also checking whether
the couple's argument had attracted the attention of the other guests. *I really don't
need this right now,* she thought when she saw that they were the focal point of several pairs
of curious eyes. “C'mon, come with me before you give this lot enough gossip to last them for
the rest of the year,” she said quietly, taking an arm each and steering them gently, but firmly,
towards the safety of the ballroom's front doors. She fixed a smile on her face, acting as
though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on with the furious looking couple she was
determinedly leading by the arm. She was only grateful that Mark and Sarah were not resisting her
efforts to get the two of them isolated.

She was almost to the door when a vision in green cut them off. Fortunately, Ginny was able to
stop in time before she plowed into the smaller woman, who was smiling up at her with a look of
complete adoration. Her smile never wavered as she tried to side step around the beaming
female.

“Excuse us,” she murmured politely, but stopped short once again when said female blocked her
way once more. Only four years of dealing with adoring fans kept her from snapping the woman's
head off. Honestly! This person was breaching all codes of good conduct by ingratiating herself
where she wasn't wanted. “May I help you?” she asked as politely as she could, tightening her
hold on Sarah who was beginning to tug at her arm relentlessly. They were so close to safety, she
wasn't about to let anything derail that now.

“Hi, I'm sorry if I come off as too forward, but I can't believe you're here and I
can't believe I'm standing in front of you right now!”

Ginny's right eyebrow rose. Great Merlin, was she bouncing on her feet!? “And you are?”
There was enough irritation injected into her tone to warn anybody not to mess with her, but
apparently, the little bouncing girl (she was too petite to be a grown woman, surely!) was too
excited to take notice.

“Oh!” Her eyes rounded as if just realizing that their acquaintance was horribly one-sided. She
stuck out her hand. “Dianne, Dianne Winters. I'm a big fan, Ms. Welsh, I can't tell you how
honored I am to finally meet you. I've heard of your work, and I have to say that I greatly
admire your devotion in working with orphaned and sick children. Our organization has worked with
yours on several occasions, but this is the first time we've actually met.”

Ginny was getting a giant-sized headache. She was so perky! Like a little puppy, with not a care
in the world except the burden of looking pretty for its owner 24/7. And here she thought Sarah was
the flightiest creature ever created on earth.

“That's nice,” she muttered condescendingly, smile still perfectly in place.

“Oh yes! When Mark told me you'd be here, I was beside myself with happiness. I had almost
lost hope when it got really late and you were nowhere in sight, but now you're here!” Her
doe-like eyes fluttered several times and Ginny wondered how she hadn't managed to poke her
eyes out with those overly long false lashes.

Then it hit her. Dianne. *Dianne.* This was Mark's ex-fiancé? She looked sharply up at
the man to her right and her eyes narrowed. Now she can see what made Sarah saw red: He was almost
drooling, like a rabid dog scenting its prey. Sure, this Dianne was beautiful enough, and if she
didn't miss her guess, there was an air about her that screamed wealthy. But she was so
*tiny*! And living with a virtual ball of fluff would probably be refreshing for a while, but
to have one underfoot for all of eternity would surely drive a sane person into the madhouse! But
Mark seemed blind to that little fact.

Shifting slightly on her feet, she lifted her right foot and ground her stiletto heel into
Mark's foot, putting all of her 120 lb weight into the act, feeling extremely satisfied when
she heard him suck in a pained breath. “Yes, I'm here,” she drawled lazily, her lips twitching
when she felt Mark trying to unobtrusively rescue his abused anatomy from her efforts of crushing
them. “But I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our chat short. There is something that I
have to do with great urgency and it can't be put off another minute.”

“Oh,” Dianne said, her disappointment clearly evident in her blue eyes. Then, she brightened
again. “Maybe we can talk again, before my fiancée and I leave for London. I would so love to share
ideas with you about the plight of women in Africa.”

*Not a chance, little girl,* she thought unkindly. “I would love that. I'll have my
secretary check my schedule.” With a last warm smile at the besotted girl, she forgot all about
discretion and dragged Mark and Sarah out the doors, before suddenly making a beeline for the
coatroom and shoving the two inside with unnecessary force and shutting the door at the
attendant's protesting face.

Hands on hips, Ginny glared at her two friends, who were standing as far away from each as was
possible inside the limited space of the room. “Now, out with it. What is wrong with the two of you
that you start sniping at each other in front of a hundred press people! You knew better to do
that! What could possibly be so bad for you two to lose your common sense that way?”

That was all the encouragement Sarah needed before she started venting her anger.

“I can't believe you! What have I always been telling you, Mark? Did you think I was joking?
Is that it?” Sarah snapped, arms crossed defensively. “I'm not some little girl who'll
throw a tantrum if you tell me you're no longer interested in me. At least summon the balls to
tell me to get lost!” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “God! You're so pathetic!”

“What do you want me to say!” Mark practically roared. “You've always been suspicious every
time I so much as *look* at another woman. I can't even mention a friend's name
without you getting all paranoid on me. You're suffocating me, do you know that? I can't
fucking breathe with you around!”

A heavy silence descended on them after Mark's outburst. Ginny could not believe what she
was hearing from the man she had mistakenly assumed to be decent. It was as though a veil has been
lifted from her eyes and she was seeing him for the first time; she was not liking what she was
seeing at all.

“Maybe I should leave you two alone,” she said hesitantly, edging for the door.

“Stay,” Sarah said calmly, her eyes on Mark, no expression on her face. “You should have said
something sooner,” she told him, her tone curiously flat.

The muscles on Mark's jaw worked but not a word passed from his sealed lips. It seemed that
he had already decided to lay the ball in Sarah's court and was just waiting for her to end
this game they'd been playing.

“Since I have become such a burden to you, I'll lighten your load a bit.” She held his gaze
for a few seconds before she made up her mind. “There's the door. Use it.”

Ginny could not believe how easy Sarah made it for Mark, but what she could not accept was how
eager Mark was to leave her friend. One minute he was there, the next he wasn't, without even
saying so much as a goodbye to the woman who was trying vainly to keep it together.

As soon as the door closed behind the departing Mark, Ginny rushed forward and took Sarah in her
arms just as the blonde was about to crumple to the floor. She had always known that Sarah's
feelings for Mark went far deeper than she let on, but she had never envisioned their break up as
confirmation of her suspicion. It hurt her to see how miserable her friend was probably feeling,
willing her own tears away as Sarah shook with the force of her grief.

“Sar, please, don't,” she pleaded, rubbing the heartbroken woman's back soothingly.

“He's really gone, My, I've lost him,” Sarah said in between sobs.

Ginny kept up her ministrations on her back, offering comfort as much as she could. “If you felt
this strongly for him, then why did you just let him go like that? Why did you cut off your nose to
spite off your face?” she asked softly. “And what started all this in the first place?”

Sarah lay her head on Ginny's lap, keeping her face turned away from her, not wanting to
show her ravaged face. She clutched fiercely at Ginny's skirt, biting her lower lip in her
effort to keep from wailing like a child.

Ginny was struck at how familiar the scene was, at how, many years ago, she herself had broken
down in the arms of a friend when her world had come crashing down on her. It was really unnerving,
and something she had been denying to herself came barreling through the forefront of her mind once
again, and this time it refused to be ignored.

“I didn't know,” Sarah said softly, breaking Ginny's train of thought. “I didn't
know who that woman was when she came in, but Mark couldn't take his eyes off her. Martha Weiss
was only too happy to tell, you know how much she likes Mark.” She tensed as she prepared for what
she was about to say. “She told me that she'd been Mark's fiancé once, and that Mark had
been head over heels in love with her. They were about to get married, everything had been ready,
and then the announcement came that the wedding was being postponed, then called off entirely.
Nobody knew why.” She took a deep breath.

“That was five years ago, and I never even knew. Nobody bothered to tell me.” She raised
miserable eyes and looked at Ginny, her lips quivering. “I looked for Mark, I wanted to ask him if
it was true, what Martha told me, and I saw him with her. The man she was with, presumably her
fiancée, was talking with somebody else, and Mark was standing next to her, so close you'd
think he was attached to her hip. And I saw the look in his eyes, My, and it ripped me apart.”
Tears again started streaming down her cheeks. “He has *never* looked at me like that, and I
knew then he wasn't over her. If she wasn't there with another man he might have taken her
out of there and renewed their acquaintance, and I just can't sit by while he makes a fool of
me. I love him, but he doesn't feel the same way. I gave him two years of my life, but I
can't play the charade he calls a relationship with me anymore. It hurts too much.”

Ginny was torn. What Sarah said was also news to her, but she didn't see any plausible
reason why she should let Mark go when that other woman was obviously already committed to someone
else. Mark hadn't outright said that he wanted to take up where he had left off with his ex, so
all of Sarah's fears were mere suppositions. But when she said so out loud, she got a firm
shaking of the head.

“It doesn't matter anymore, it's over. It would probably never work between us anyway,
so it's better I end it before it gets too far.” She took a long, shaky breath and stood up,
smoothing down her badly wrinkled dress.

Ginny also got to her feet hastily, ignoring the creases on her own dress. She wasn't sure
if she should regret coming to this party at all for what she had to witness, or be thankful that
she could be there to lend much needed support to her devastated friend. And at the back of her
mind, there was that voice asking her whether she wasn't somehow jinxed. So far, three people
close to her had not been very lucky in love and she had a strong feeling that Ron and Luna's
relationship would not last for very long. That would mean four jinxed relationships; that Harry
and Hermione had ended up together after a very explosive beginning did not ease her mind at
all.

“But hasn't it gotten far enough already? After all, you've been sleeping together for
two years. I think that fact alone merits your relationship as being of a serious nature,” Ginny
pointed out.

“You're too idealistic, Moira,” Sarah said dryly, fixing her messy hair as best she could in
front of the full length mirror at the furthest corner of the room. “The two of us are practically
an oddity in this world; you, not screwing around with every available and eligible men on the
roster, and me, fucking only one.” She smiled at Ginny's severely pursed lips. “Sex is not the
standard by which people in the business, people like *us*, use to measure the seriousness of
a relationship, you know that, My. I'm sure there are others out there who are devoted to their
partners, but they are very nearly extinct. Years being together will not guarantee faithfulness,
you know. Do you have a hanky?”

Ginny shook her head no, then started looking for her coat among the hundreds of other coats
hanging in various racks. Fortunately, the second rack she searched yielded positive results, and
she immediately took the piece of cloth she always leaves in her coats for just such an
occasion.

“Thanks,” Sarah said as she took the proffered cloth and fixed the smudges her tears had made to
her make-up. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath again, closing her eyes briefly, and
when she opened them again, the previous lost and wounded look there was gone, replaced by cool
detachment and calm acceptance. “I have to get out of here,” she said lightly, looking around at
the many coats around them. “Help me?”

Together, they looked for Sarah's coat and once she was as ready as she would ever be under
the circumstances, Ginny debated with herself whether she should offer the younger woman her
sympathy. Sarah needed to hear that somebody knew what it felt like to be so hurt by a loved one;
at the same time, she also knew that any attempts on her part to commiserate would not be
appreciated. She needed to learn to move past the hurt so she could understand that there was more
to life than just heartbreak. And she had so little time to try and be that person for Sarah.

“Well.” Sarah gave Ginny a fleeting smile. “Thank you, Moira, for being here for me. I'll
miss you so much,” she said earnestly, drawing Ginny back into a tight hug. “Don't be a
stranger, okay?”

Ginny returned the hug. “I'll miss you too. I'll try to keep in touch, I promise. I
won't be able to send word right away, but watch your post just the same.” She drew back and
let Sarah see how unhappy she was at her leaving. “If only I could stay a bit more, but I
can't.”

“That's okay,” Sarah assured her. “I'll probably be laying low for a while anyway, you
know, lick my wounds in private and all that, let all this pass me by.” Her eyes clouded over again
before she determinedly shook her head. “Anyway, I might even come to the UK, you never know. We
could play catch up then.”

Ginny tried her best to be encouraging. What she said sounded very good to her ears, but she
knew it would be impossible for her to show Sarah her world without risking exposure. “Sounds like
a plan, then,” she said gaily, not quite meeting Sarah's eyes.

Sarah nodded. “I'll go now.” She turned around and started for the door, but stopped when
Ginny started to follow her out. “If you don't mind, My, could I go out first? I'll be less
noticeable without you by my side. I really don't need the attention right now.”

Ginny stood frozen in the middle of the room, a bit hurt to hear that Sarah didn't want her
around, before she realized that she was right. The people inside the ballroom would probably
recognize her red hair right off and guess who it was with her, and the last thing Sarah needed was
further aggravation on a night that was already full of it.

“Of course,” she answered simply, hanging back and watching as Sarah bravely walked out of the
room, her head high, her back straight, and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes firmly
planted on her lips.

As the door clicked shot, she walked back towards the full-length mirror and stared at her
reflection unseeingly. What happened tonight with Sarah and Mark really threw her for a loop; it
just went to show that the only thing constant in life was change. She fervently wished that Sarah
come out of this experience a stronger woman. Of Mark, she didn't know what to think; she could
not believe how callously he had treated Sarah. She wanted to hurt him, physically, but it
wasn't her fight. What Sarah had said was true; they were complete opposites of each other, and
they might not have worked out in the end, but that doesn't mean that it was going to stay like
that for them forever. There was always a middle ground somewhere, if only they didn't have too
much pride riding on their backs.

Like Draco's pride that kept him away from his family.

Surprised at the sudden turn of her thoughts, she hastily pushed it back to the deepest recesses
of her mind and prepared herself to face what was left of the evening for her. Since she'd
already said her goodbyes to the people who meant a lot to her inside the cavernous ballroom, she
didn't need to spend another minute under the glare of the spotlight.

Straightening, she was about to turn around and head for the door when it opened. She raised her
eyes and looked at the reflection of whoever it was that had just entered, a smile automatically
forming on her lips, believing it was the attendant come to check if the coatroom had already been
vacated. Her smile died a sudden death when she saw who it was that had just walked in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. William Chauncy paced the lobby of Draco Malfoy's impressive accommodations in New York.
His initial shock had been replaced by impatience; he had been waiting for his missing employer for
two hours already and there was still no sign that he would be back anytime soon. There was a lot
the man had to know, and William had run out of time. If only Bill Weasley had not procrastinated
in his decision to help him, he might have been able to prevent the disaster that could happen,
that was *about* to happen. Now, it was too late.

His head snapped up when he heard a door open and close, then had to control his exasperation
from showing when he saw it was only the butler.

“It is getting rather late, Mr. Chauncy. I am sorry to say that the Master may not return
tonight, as I had expected.”

William did groan this time. “Is there any way I could contact him? My business with him is very
urgent.”

The butler shook his head. “I'm sorry, but he left specific instructions not to give out
information of the like to anyone without prior notice.”

William sighed; he really had no time for this. Quickly, he pulled a small notepad and a
ballpoint pen out of his pocket and scribbled a message on it. Finished, he folded it in two and
handed it to the butler. “See that he gets that as soon as possible. I will be staying around for
another day only, so it is imperative that I speak with him.”

The butler took the obviously muggle piece of paper between his thumb and index finger, his
expression haughty. He did not believe for a minute that Mr. Malfoy would consider anything this
badly dressed individual would have to say as important. If he won't even take the numerous
owls and howlers that his father, the elder Malfoy, had been sending him for the past week, then
there was absolutely no reason for him to think that anybody as inconsequential as William Chauncy
would be important enough for him to bother his lord and master with.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly and didn't bother opening the door for the gentleman to
pass. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he proceeded to drop the note in the nearest waste basket. Mr.
Malfoy was a very busy man, and he took it upon himself to ensure that no riff raff interrupt the
fluidity of his schedule.

He turned his back as soon as he disposed of the piece of paper, not even bothering to look at
what message it contained. If he had, he might have had second thoughts before disregarding it like
yesterday's news.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny felt lightheaded and belatedly realized that it was because she had stopped breathing. She
took several deep breaths, the spots before her eyes disappearing slowly as her brain received the
much needed oxygen, her eyes fixed on the figure that slowly, deliberately, closed the door to the
coatroom, not bothering to lower his voice when he cast a locking spell on it, and a silencing
charm on the room. She couldn't move, she was too transfixed at the sight before her. She
couldn't possibly be hallucinating, her air-starved brain conjuring up images of people and
things that ought not be there.

With trembling fingers, she touched the cold glass of the mirror, hoping that with the movement,
the image before her would disappear. When it didn't, and he slowly invaded her personal space,
bigger than life and looking quite satisfied with himself, she wanted to scream bloody murder. Damn
Fate!

“That was quite a scene out there, Ginevra. Can't say much about your taste though; surely
there are enough wizards out there who'd overlook your Weasel beginnings. You didn't have
to take up with a Muggle. Or is that customary for people like you now? What is it you do again?
Acting, wasn't it? Tut, tut, you have really fallen far this time, Ginevra. A pity.” He now
stood behind Ginny, only a few inches separating their clothing from touching. “Tell me,” he said,
bending down slightly so he could whisper in her ear, both his hands resting on her bare shoulders,
“is he any good in bed? Does he make you forget about all the other men in your life? Does he make
you scream with pleasure?”

Ginny shivered in instantaneous lust when she felt Draco's body press against her back. And
he smelled so good. She knew she should be angry at him for taking such liberties with her now, as
though harsh words hadn't been said between them all those years ago, but her body refused to
obey her mind's commands, which was to establish distance between them ASAP. Instead, when she
felt his lips on her neck, she tilted her head to the side to give him more room to explore, her
palms planted firmly on the mirror, probably the only reason why she wasn't yet a crumpled heap
on the floor.

“Why - why are you here?” she asked breathlessly, then gasped as she felt his teeth bite down
gently on the point between her neck and shoulders. Heat engulfed her body and her common sense was
knocked out for the count.

“Business,” he said briefly, his eyes fixed on their reflection as the hands that was on her
shoulders moved down the side of her strapless gown, and slowly pulled the bit of cloth down to
expose her breasts. She hadn't felt him ease down the zipper at the back of her gown, but that
became irrelevant when his large hands cupped her aching breasts, his thumbs teasing her taut
nipples. Her head fell back on his shoulders as she surrendered to the feelings he could so easily
arouse in her, her back arching, offering him more of what he was playing with.

Draco himself was fighting a raging battle. He wanted to let loose all the pent-up frustrations
he had been storing for four years, but the damned voice inside his head was annoyingly screeching
away like a banshee.

*What the hell do you think you're doing!? You're making a big mistake, stop that,
Draco. You can't do that to Ginny, you're engaged for heaven's sake!*

Draco divided his attention into making the voice disappear, as he had been able to do a few
times in the past, and slaking his lust with the woman that was in his arms.

*Don't you dare pull that one on me again, you brat! Don't think I don't know what
you're doing. I'm wiser to you now, and I'm telling you, RIGHT NOW, stop being an ARSE
and end this before it's too late. Goddamnit, Draco, take your hands off her butt!*

As though baiting Draco Jr., Draco moved his hands from Ginny's buttocks only to push down
her dress past her hips, leaving her clad only in black silk underwear and stiletto heels. He was
relieved when the voice quieted down, and he could concentrate on what he was doing.

When Ginny felt her dress leave her body, some semblance of sanity was knocked into her
subconscious, enough to make her see that they were rushing things again.

“Draco, wait, wait. We can't,” she said softly, even as her body craved more of his
touch.

“Why not?” he asked, in between nips and kisses. “We're alone, the door won't open
unless I open it myself, and you want me as much as I want you.”

She would have answered if he didn't abruptly turn her around to face him and covered her
mouth with his own, his tongue pushing past her lips and reacquainted himself with her taste. He
kissed her senseless, making up for lost time. His right hand gripped the side of her smooth
thighs, before beginning its trek up her hips. When he felt the narrow silk of her knickers, his
hand moved across her flat abdomen, slid down the inside of the flimsy garment, and in one motion,
ripped it away. The ruined bit of cloth lay on the floor by their feet but neither one of them
noticed. His hand came back on her thighs, stroking up and down, marveling at the silkiness of the
limbs he was caressing. Unable to prolong the moment anymore, his hand moved in between her legs
and touched the swollen flesh between her legs.

Ginny lurched against him, breaking their kiss as remembered pleasure rushed through her like
the metro. She could not prevent the moans that escaped her lips as Draco's skillful fingers
gently stroked her flesh. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she opened her eyes to look at
silvery pools of eyes darkened with intense heat.

“Touch me, Gin,” he said huskily, and Ginny was only too glad to oblige him. She touched his
face, noting the few changes four years wrought on his handsome face. She touched his broad
shoulders, skimmed her palms on his chest, then raked her fingernails down his back. Unlike her, he
was still completely dressed and when she looked down, she could clearly see the tenting of his
trousers, a sight that made her want to shout for joy. He still wanted her!

With shaky hands, her palms pressed against the bulge, then she jerked back in pain when Draco
rammed two long fingers inside her slick opening.

“Touch me,” he said again, straining against her hand as he continued fucking her with his
finger, his other hand gripping her buttocks.

Ginny bit her lips; what he was doing was painful, and she wanted to ask him to stop, but she
was afraid he might take it the wrong way and stop altogether. She didn't want him to stop, it
had been so long, and she wanted to feel that same sensation she knew was going to follow after the
pain.

She reached for his belt and wasted precious seconds before she got it opened. She unhooked the
waistband of his trousers and then slowly eased the zipper down, revealing the silk boxers he wore,
the only thing protecting his sex from her eyes and hands.

“Touch me” she heard him again. With a mind of their own, her hands pulled at the elastic band
of his boxers and her right hand moved inside, guided his fully erect penis out. Her mouth went dry
when she saw him; how could she have forgotten how huge he was? She swallowed and looked up at him
briefly before looking back down again at the instrument of her ruin four years ago. He had stopped
his finger movements, waiting for what she might do next.

Unable to stop herself, Ginny reverently gripped his shaft, moving her hand up and down the
velvety length. Draco's head fell forward as he groaned into her neck, obviously enjoying what
she was doing to him despite her lack of know-how about hand jobs. She nipped his left ear
playfully just as she touched the weeping head of his pulsing flesh, swirling the fluid around the
crown slowly, teasingly, loving his body's reaction to her.

She didn't have time to prepare herself before Draco suddenly moved, locked his arms
underneath her knees, lifting her easily, and using his body as leverage, he removed his left arm
from under her knees to guide his erection into her slit, nudging the head in, and with one hard
thrust, buried his entire length inside her body.

Ginny saw stars. She felt dormant muscles protesting the intrusion, but nevertheless accepting
the foreign object rapidly thrusting in and out of her body. He filled her completely, and she felt
whole again. She had forgotten how good it felt, having Draco possess her body, and vowed she would
never forget again. She clasped her arms around his neck and brought her mouth down to his as she
tentatively met his thrust, gaining confidence by the minute and before long, was as
enthusiastically arching her pelvis, loving the friction his flesh created inside her body. She
didn't care how wanton she looked, she loved this man more than she loved herself, and if he
wanted her to act the slut when they were together, she was more than happy to be one for him.

It didn't take long for Ginny to feel that incredible tension start to build inside her. She
tightened her arms around Draco as her world exploded, her body shaking in pleasure, her vaginal
walls contracting around his cock, pushing him over the edge as well, spurts of his semen flooding
her. He continued thrusting into her body until his flaccid flesh slipped out on its own, semen
slowly dribbling down the side of her inner thighs.

Both of them breathing heavily, he set her back on her feet, his weight pressing her against the
cold mirror as they took steady gulps of air. Slowly, he moved back from her, his eyes roving over
her naked body, noting the attractive flush that lent color to her skin. They didn't speak as
they righted their clothing, Ginny pulling up the wrinkled mess that was her dress and zipping it
up herself, and Draco merely had to pull up his boxers and trousers; he didn't bother redoing
his belt.

Ginny started to wonder if the aftermath of this encounter would end in the same manner as the
last one did. It was ridiculous, feeling shy after what they just did, but she couldn't help
herself. She felt horribly naked, uncomfortably aware that she didn't have any panties on, and
the feel of Draco's come in between her legs only added to her discomfort.

When she could no longer find anything to fuss over, she looked at the man she had just made
love to and felt her insides start to melt. If she wasn't mistaken, he was definitely not
through with her yet, and his look promised so much more before the night was through. Gaining
courage in that, she started to speak.

“Draco, I - ”

He pressed a finger against her lips, stopping whatever it was she was about to say.

“Let's not talk. Talking has never gotten as anywhere before.” He waited for her to nod
before he took out his wand. With a muttered *Finite Incantatem*, he lifted the locking and
silencing spell he had cast around the room and door. Then wrapping his left arm around her waist,
he apparated them both out of the coatroom.

When Ginny opened her eyes, she saw that Draco had taken them inside one of the hotel's
suites; she had spent more than her fair amount of time in hotel rooms over the course of four
years to recognize the impeccable but impersonal decorations of one. She vaguely wondered if this
was where he was staying but quickly dismissed the thought; she had other more pressing matters at
hand to deal with first as she felt him deftly tugging down at the zipper of her dress, one arm
still wrapped around her waist. He only let up on his hold of her so the dress could slither down
her body, leaving her, apart from her shoes, naked as the day she was born.

Draco's hand quickly came back around her waist, his hand splayed over her abdomen. She
sucked in a deep breath when she felt his other hand settle on her hips and moved down the outside
of her thigh teasingly, then insinuated between her locked legs and traveled up the inside of her
thighs until he was cupping her hot center.

Ginny shivered and moaned, her legs parting willingly to give him access, her arms clinging
around his neck desperately. She could feel what he was doing to her all the way to her toes and it
was a miracle she was still on her feet. For every masterful stroke of his finger between the
swollen folds of her sex, she felt the years separating them fell away. What was important was the
here and the now; what happened in the past was no longer significant.

When his hand suddenly withdrew, she wanted to protest and demand that he continue with what he
was doing. When he swung her into his arms instead, she almost cried in relief. Gazing deeply into
each other's eyes, she realized that there was no stopping him tonight. Even if she had wanted
to change her mind, that wouldn't have made any difference. There was something different about
him, about that ordinarily would have made her wary of him, but she had four years of pent-up
desires to satisfy, so didn't pay much attention to her gut feeling.

In just a few strides, Draco was lowering her to the bed, his fully clothed body coming down to
cover hers. Ginny wound her arms around his neck as she met his lips, their tongues tangling,
battling for dominance. She could barely breathe, but she didn't care, too caught up in the
kiss that had the power to render her witless. Her body arched into his as his hands moved from her
breasts to the throbbing flesh between her legs. She raised her knees and cradled his large body,
her hips lifting, meeting his exploring fingers. She was still sore from their earlier activity but
that was easily ignored over the promise of sexual gratification.

Draco broke the kiss and started to trail kisses down the length of her throat to her shoulders.
She breathed heavily, lightheaded, her chest heaving in anticipation of his mouth even as her hips
writhed in agony beneath him, two of his long fingers slowly easing in and out of her slick flesh.
When he finally took her turgid nipple into his mouth and started to suck, her arms wrapped around
his back, gripping the rough material of his suit. He hadn't even taken off his coat and it
excited her even more, having the suave and immaculate Draco Malfoy lose his head over his need to
have her.

He spent only a few minutes on her breasts before he was moving down her stomach, his tongue
trailing liquid fire down her eager body. She knew before it happened, what he was about to do, and
she tensed in expectation. Living in the world of glitz and glamour, a world full of sex, drugs,
and even more sex, she knew almost all there was to know about the topic. Not that she'd been
able to experience any of what she'd seen and heard about, but she had always found it easy to
learn new things and she was not about to deny herself the knowledge of all things pertaining a man
and a woman, with or without the practical application of the act. So when she felt him part her
swollen sex and trace his tongue along the parted flesh, she could be excused when she lurched off
the bed, scrambling away from where Draco was sprawled on the bed, her eyes wide with shock.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow as he rose on his knees on the bed, shrugging off his coat and
throwing it over the side of the bed. She watched him as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and it
also disappeared over the side. She knew she probably looked ridiculous, plastered against the
headboard, panting, the sheets clutched to her chest as she looked at him taking off his clothes in
front of her, not a shy bone in his body. Draco's tongue had sent bolts of unbearable pleasure
through her body and it was simply too much for her. Sarah had told her what cunnilingus was like,
felt like; she had been curious about it since then, but nothing had quite prepared her for the
feeling that rocked her world when his tongue touched her so intimately.

She gulped when Draco's belt followed the direction of his coat and shirt. She knew what to
expect next, of course, and she was fine with that part of him now. But if he tried to do that
again with his tongue, she couldn't promise she wouldn't expire. It was torture, watching
him strip and not being able to touch him the way she wanted to, but she was frozen where she
was.

When the pants were gone and he was only in his boxers, Ginny watched in fascination as he
slowly crawled towards her, dragging the sheets from her grip as he drew nearer until she was
completely exposed to his sight. Without preamble, he took hold of both her ankles and dragged her
body down until she was flat on the bed, immediately moving over her, ignoring her squeak.

“Draco, wait, listen to me first before - ”

She stopped talking when it became obvious that he wasn't going to listen to anything she
had to say. She clutched at the pillows by her head; it was the only thing she could do as Draco
purposely parted her thighs, his large hands anchoring them both before his head bent and proceeded
to do what he'd been interrupted in doing earlier. She could not help the moans escaping her
lips as she felt Draco's tongue lave and lap at the two folds of flesh. Then his lips closed
around the swollen bud at the center and started to suck, and Ginny screamed in ecstasy. The
feelings he invoked in her were too intense, painful and she wanted more of it, never wanted him to
stop. He was bringing her closer and closer to the brink again, incapable of feeling, hearing,
anything other than what he was doing down there and the sounds she was making, not caring that she
was practically begging him to fuck her.

Throughout the noise of blood rushing in her ears, she heard him call her name and she forced
her eyes to open and her head to rise and look down at him, propped on his elbows between her legs,
his lips hovering mere inches from her reddened flesh. Her legs were draped over his shoulders;
when did that happen?

He didn't say anything; with his eyes locked on hers, she understood what he wanted and
obliged him. She watched him as he went back to pleasuring her, relentless in his pursuit of making
her a slave to his desire, offering herself without reservation. When she was on the verge of
breaking, her insides contracting, Draco surged up and over her, guiding his shaft with one hand
and with a single, hard thrust, he buried himself so deeply inside her he knew she'd probably
walk funny for a week.

Ginny screamed as she felt his hard length roughly force its way in. She was wet and ready for
him, but this whole sex thing was still entirely new to her that any penetration, especially from
anyone as large as Draco was bound to cause pain. When he started pounding into her, pulling almost
all the way up to the head before savagely pushing back in again, she couldn't stop grunting in
a mixture of pain and pleasure. Every time he came into her body, she felt branded all over again.
He was ruthless in his strokes, like he was striving to make her forget everything but him and what
he was doing to her body and he was succeeding admirably. When she started coming, her legs
instinctively clamped around his hips and with the new angle, he came into her body more deeply,
his thrusts feeding her orgasm, her sobs filling the room.

And still he went on, the only sign he let on that he'd felt her coming was his groan when
her vaginal muscles clamped around his shaft, slowing his rhythm considerably as it became
difficult to breach through the contracted muscles. Even more difficult was the control he had to
exert to keep from coming himself.

Ginny barely noticed when Draco dislodged her right leg from his waist and drape it over his
shoulder; she was still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm. But when he started grinding against
her more forcefully, each time sinking deeper than the last, her second climax followed so closely
on the heels of the first that she could not stop the scream that erupted from her lips. She felt
his body stiffen and after thrusting three more times, came so hard inside her that she felt filled
to the brim by his essence. His large body dropped, exhausted, on top of hers, a heavy but entirely
welcomed weight. She wrapped her arms around his back as she settled her ankles around his hips,
cradling his body with her own, glorying in how much they fit together. She was deeply content; it
was a long time coming, this reconciliation. Four years, four wasted years, and who knew how many
more if not for this night.

She felt his breathing even out and smiled to herself. This was how they were supposed to be,
together, without reservations, without the outside world looking in and passing judgment. She
loved that he could be so comfortable with her as to fall asleep with that vital part of him still
embedded inside her body, and this time around, she was going to make sure that none of his deeply
ingrained self-preservations get in the way of her and his happiness. Whatever it took.

Draco didn't sleep long; only a few hours after Ginny had fallen asleep, he jerked back
awake, momentarily disoriented until he felt the soft body sleeping peacefully under him, felt the
leg draped over the back of his legs.

“It wasn't just a dream,” he said softly, looking at the face of the one woman he had not
been able to forget. He was surprised to note that he was still buried inside her body, not deeply,
but it was enough for his erection to come back in full force.

*I can't believe you,* Draco Jr. said disgustedly. *Isn't it enough that
you've had her twice in under an hour? Don't you have anything better to do than screw your
brains out?*

Draco didn't bother replying; instead, he concentrated on moving in and out of Ginny's
body, making sure to moderate his movement so as not to wake her up. She looked to be in deep
sleep, but he didn't want to take any chances.

*You're a hopeless case, Draco Malfoy. I give up. I tried, I really tried. I'm cutting
my losses now. I'm sorry, my boy, I really am sorry.*

Draco closed his mind off. All that mattered was his need, the ache that he'd been carrying
around for years. The object of his obsession was here now, beneath him, and before the night was
over, he would have finished with the business of Ginny Weasley and move on with his life. He now
knew all he needed to know to do just that, but before he went, one more time was not going to hurt
his resolve.

So he used her body as he had always dreamed of, satisfying himself. When he came inside her
hours later, he knew that it was time for him to go. Pulling out of her took every ounce of effort
he could muster, but looking down at her, so naked and beautiful, he had to force himself to cover
her with the sheet so he wouldn't be tempted to climb back into the bed and fuck her again.

He dressed quickly, casting spells on himself to remove the smell of sex clinging to his body
and clothes. Deliberately, he scrawled a message on paper with the hotel's letterhead, and
after addressing it, tore out the page and laid it beside Ginny's head.

With one last look at the sleeping woman, he took out his wand and disapparated.

She didn't know what woke her, but when she did, she felt oddly empty, then realized right
away why: Draco was no longer weighing her down on the bed. A sheet had been drawn to cover her
body and she slowly sat up in bed, listening for any sign of Draco.

“Draco?” she called out softly.

Nothing.

Frowning, she got out of bed, moving guardedly as her body protested, and the flesh between her
thighs ached with each step she took. She started for the lavatory, thinking he might have gone
there. He wasn't in there.

She shrugged on a white terry robe neatly folded on a rack inside the luxurious bath and as
quickly as she could under the circumstances, started searching for any hint as to where Draco
might have gone to. She refused to acknowledge the niggling fear that was slowly building inside
her; there was no way he had just left her behind without even a hey-ho. Not after last night.

The suite was big, it had three rooms, all with bathrooms, but not one of them yielded Draco.
Finally, accepting that he was not going to make an appearance anytime soon, she went back to the
room they had laid together and sat heavily on the bed. Her mind was a jumble of conflicting
thoughts and she wanted to just shut them all out. With a heavy heart, she decided to dress and
leave, as there seemed to be no point to staying.

That was when she saw the note partly covered by the pillow.

With trembling fingers, she picked it up and willed her eyes to read the words written there,
her heart getting heavier and heavier by the minute, until with a sob, she flung the note away,
dressed hurriedly and left the room that smelt so strongly of lust, of sex, of broken hearts and
broken dreams. The soft click of the door as it shut magnified a thousand fold inside her heart,
just as his words played around inside her head, never to be forgotten.

*Weasley,*

*Stay as long as you like, the room's been paid for*

*for the duration of the day and night. Great night, by the*

*way, you were always the best lay I've ever had. If you*

*want to do it again, owl me. I might not get back to you*

*right away, I'll be busy getting married, but after the*

*honeymoon, I'll be more than happy to pick up where we*

*left off. Sorry about disappearing on you like this, got to*

*pick up the misses. But I'm sure you understand that,*

*being in the business that you're in.*

*Til next time, then.*

*D.M.*

-->



15. A Prelude To An End
-----------------------



**Chapter 15: A Prelude to an End**

The drive back to her home was the longest Ginny had ever taken in her life. She had thankfully
been able to escape from the hotel without too many prying eyes following her movements. There were
probably speculations as to what she was still doing in the hotel, but the hotel staff would never
think of coming up to her and asking her to her face, which suited her just fine. It was a good
thing she was retiring from the public eye; she had nothing to give anymore, she felt dead inside
and if she stayed a minute longer in this world of make believe, she would probably turn into an
emotional zombie, like so many others like her who have been to hell and back.

She promised herself never again; she felt like a fool for letting him use her like that again.
All the way back to the place she had called home for more than four years, she promised herself
that never again would Draco Malfoy get the opportunity to hurt her as much as he had. There was
only so much pain she could endure, and this time around, it wasn't only herself she had to
consider. Luke and Nicole came first, and would be damned if Draco would get the chance to cut them
as well with his viperous tongue. They didn't need him; they had all the father they would ever
need from her brothers, Harry, Blaise and Lucius, not to mention Colin, who would probably prefer
the title `aunt' much more than a glorified father figure or uncle. There was no room for Draco
in their lives, and since the four-year-olds didn't even know anything about their father, what
was there to miss?

As for herself, she would move heaven and earth to sever her ties with him. She was considered
the brightest witch of her year, and it wasn't only academically she had excelled in; even if
she had to dedicate her life to finding the right spell to free herself from Draco, she would have
considered it time well spent. To hell with the Book of Malfoy's, it will have to change it
facts again; it hadn't warranted on Draco's determination on hating and making a fool out
of all Weasleys and she was frankly tired of feeling like a martyr in a bad soap opera. It just
wasn't her style, being a martyr or figuring in cheesy soap operas.

“We're here, Ma'am.”

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts and saw that they had, indeed, arrived. Mumbling her gratitude
to the limo driver, she stepped onto the curb and as quickly as she could, walked the few steps
towards safety and solace. She fished her keys out and let herself into the quiet building, wearily
leaning her weight against the closed door panel, closing her eyes momentarily. The quietness was
to be expected since she had sent Luke and Nicole ahead to London with their nannies and several
other servants and bodyguards, but the silence was too damning and it took everything in her to
keep from screaming. Colin was still around, he had said he would be accompanying her back to
England, and he would worry about her if she acted all crazy again. She didn't want him to know
about what she did, what she let happen again. She didn't want him to know the cadence of
*Stupid, Stupid* ringing inside her head; he wouldn't blame her for it, and that she could
not take. She *was* guilty; she *was* to blame. And now it was up to her to see that she
never make that mistake again.

She started to walk on leaded feet towards the living room, and mindful of all the aches and
pains of her body, slowly lowered herself into an old-fashioned chaise lounge, her favorite seat in
the house, stretching her tall form guardedly, her head resting on the back. She had only just
closed her eyes again to try and settle her nerves when the unmistakable sound of Colin's
approach penetrated her weary senses. She mentally girded herself for the lecture she was sure
Colin had been preparing overnight; she rarely ever stayed out late, and if she did, she always
called him up if he wasn't with her. She had stayed out *all* night last night, and
thoughts of Colin never once entered her mind while she was screwing Draco. Even in her book, that
deserved a major talking to.

And Colin didn't disappoint.

“Where were you? Do you know what time it is? Do you have any idea how worried I was when you
didn't come home last night? Why didn't you call? You have a cell phone for a reason, young
lady, don't tell me you forgot to use it?”

Ginny could hear Colin pacing by her side, but she didn't bother opening her eyes. She could
well imagine the worry on her friend's face; she didn't need to actually see it and heap
more guilt over the ones crowding her head already. She listened to his rant and let her resolve
strengthen.

“ - and can you imagine my surprise when George told me you'd left the party before him?
Yes, I called him up,” Colin said, nodding at Ginny's wide-eyed, disbelieving stare, “and he
very definitely told me you'd gone out with that friend of yours, Sarah. So I called her up
too. Do you know what she told me?”

Ginny groaned aloud and closed her eyes again, pressing her face against the padded back seat.
“That I was still at the party?” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the cushions.

“You were still at the party!” he exclaimed. “Imagine that! Somehow, you were lost somewhere in
between. If you had brought your wand with you, I might not have thought much about you
disappearing like that. But since I knew you didn't bring your wand, that left me with a lot of
room for speculation. Interested in hearing them?”

Ginny groaned again. “No, but you'll probably tell me anyway,” she said wearily.

“Too right I will! I was afraid you'd been kidnapped! I had pictured you dragged somewhere
and being violated! I was fretting about how I would break the news to your family and the twins.
Not to mention Lucius.” He shuddered. “He's the last person I'd want to break news like
that to, I can tell you that; he scares the shit out of me. And I will kill you if you make me do
something like that.” He started pacing again. “The only thing I could be certain of that you
weren't doing last night was having sex; at least I didn't have *that* to worry
about.”

Ginny inwardly cringed. *I wouldn't bet my life's savings on that,* she thought
cynically.

“So the question remains, where did you go off to last night through the morning?”

Ginny was thankful for the fact that Colin was not a *Legilimens*; the whooping lie she was
about to tell him was necessary, if not to prevent Colin from feeling sorry for her, then to ensure
that she was the only one who knew of her fall from grace. Again.

Dragging her aching body to a sitting position, she ran her hands through her hair. “I stayed in
the hotel; I was too upset about Sarah and Mark's situation to come home straight away.
Sarah's hurt was too familiar, too close to home, and I knew that if I came here after being
made to see what a pathetic mess my life was before, I would be missing out on the chance to
finally come to grips with what I have to do, what I should have done a long time ago.” She put all
her talent into keeping how she felt inside from showing in her eyes as she looked at her friend.
“I'm ready to go back, Colin, it's time I end this once and for all. No more hiding for
me.” There; at least, what she said weren't all lies.

Colin frowned. He was uneasy about something Ginny said, but he wasn't sure why he should
be. “I don't understand. We are going back to England, and Draco will finally be told he's
a father. Or were you thinking of changing your mind after all?”

Ginny shook her head and stood up. “Never mind, it's not important anymore.” She looked down
at her severely wrinkled dress. “I have to freshen up; I don't only feel a mess, I *look*
a mess. Are you ready to go?” she asked, one brow raised inquiringly.

Colin nodded, his pique forgotten for the moment as he tried to check for anything unusual about
Ginny's physical appearance. “Since last night. I dispatched most of the Muggle staff but for
Mrs. Buxley; she was amenable to coming in and cleaning the place once a week. And Weatherby
informed me about your arrangement regarding *W Ventures.*”

Ginny nodded. “Michael will come through for me.” She turned and started for the stairs. “Give
me an hour, then we can be on our way.”

Colin watched Ginny go with narrowed eyes. Something was off with the redhead and she was
keeping it from him. They'd been very occupied with their preparation for the inevitable return
to England and hadn't had any contact with anybody from home for the past three weeks. He had
his studio to take care of, and the arrangements he had to put in place regarding the artistic side
of Ginny's business interests was more complicated than he had at first thought. He hadn't
had time to so much as read a newspaper for a month now, and that, for him, truly signified the
sorry state of his affairs. He had taken it upon himself to be the one to apprise Ginny of the
newest gossips, whether Wizarding or Muggle, weeding out the false rumors and confirming the
noteworthy ones, and being unable to do that left him disoriented and terribly out of his element,
a feeling he didn't like one bit.

As soon as possible, once they were settled back in England, he would make it his number one
priority to catch up with the latest *on dits.*

An hour later, Ginny rejoined him in the living room, dressed in a black halter top and low
slung, form-fitting denim jeans, with comfortable thong sandals on her feet. She halted a few feet
from where Colin was sitting, whipping out a scrunchy from her back pockets and bound her hair to a
high ponytail, the burnished tresses swinging at her back like a horse's tail as she whipped it
this way and that, uncaring of the heartache she would bring any hairdresser at the torture she was
subjecting her hair into.

“C'mon, get up off your butt and let's go,” Ginny said cheerily as she finished with her
hair.

Colin's brow rose. “Where's your wand?” As she promptly produced her wand from her other
back pocket, Colin shook his head. “Didn't you listen to Moody at all? It's dangerous,
putting your wand in such a delicate place.”

“Don't whine,” Ginny said dismissively. “Accidents will happen if it's fated to happen,
there's no stopping it.”

“I agree,” Colin replied matter-of-factly, “but it will help a lot if you don't court
disaster to happen. Prevention is a whole lot better than cure, you know, especially since in some
instances, there's no cure to some accidents.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Believe me, Colin, *I know*.” There was a whole lot of meaning into
her implied knowledge, and Colin didn't miss it as a slight flush suffused his cheeks. Ginny
only flashed him an evil grin, letting him plainly see that she enjoyed embarrassing him. “Now,
let's go! You can go into lecture mode as soon as we get to England.”

Colin shook his head again as he watched Ginny walk towards the library, the only place cleared
for Apparation in the townhouse. As he followed on her heels, he could not help but be amazed at
how truly young the redhead was when she let her mask down. She was still young in years, yes, but
it was more than that. He had been used to seeing her as a young mother to two kids,
responsibilities heaped on her shoulders on both the parenting and business fronts. To be given
occasional glimpses of the girl inside, a girl that was never given a chance to play the way other
girls her age were, was disturbing. In a way, he could be held accountable for part of her burden;
he knew very well the only reason she modeled for him was to help him out and he had shamefully
used her devotion as his friend so she would continue to do so. That she had come to enjoy the
profession was irrelevant. He had tried to make up for it by assuming all the financial aspects of
their arrangement, but he knew that wouldn't be enough balm to soothe his guilt. Then Draco
happened, and all chance of Ginny's youth to emerge had to be shelved in preparation for the
even greater responsibility of parenthood.

Everything seemed to happen too fast in Ginny's world; she became famous even before her
face was revealed to the public, she became a parent too early, she got rich too quickly. He
shuddered to think what it was that would happen next, and hoped her luck would hold out the way it
had these past years.

He was by the door to the library when Ginny threw her a little salute and disapparated. He
looked at the empty space his friend left behind for a moment, then took a deep, resolute
breath.

“I'll take care of you if it doesn't, Gin,” he promised quietly, to himself and to the
woman who meant the world to him, before he, too, disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

*Better to allow people to think you're a fool than to open your mouth and remove all
doubt.*

Those words, uttered in contempt, had been ringing in Draco's head the moment he'd left
Ginny. Draco Jr. had been in his element as he called him ten kinds of fool, in languages that made
the words more inventive than the last. Maybe he *was* a fool, doing what he did in writing
that damnable note; he didn't even understand what made him do it in the first place.

At first, he had convinced himself it was expected of him, a Malfoy putting a Weasley in her
place. But on closer inspection, he had to admit that the compulsion to hurt Ginny stemmed from
someplace inside himself that he did not know, had no control over. It was also the same place that
had been obsessed with the redhead for six years.

He didn't know how Ginny would treat his little note, whether she'd be angry or hurt or
insulted. He didn't really know her, after all; his knowledge of her was only in the biblical
sense, not much for him to go on, and somehow, it bothered him to admit that now. He never bothered
to find out anything about Ginny the person, and ordinarily, that was enough for him. Sex was all
the talk that need happen between a man and a woman was his belief. He didn't know when that
belief changed.

When he had collected Dianne from the party after leaving Ginny sleeping like a baby, she had
taken one look at him and realized right away what he'd been doing, and had then told him that
he should have waited until later for such activities. Outwardly, his façade had been firmly held
in place, but inside, he had frowned. Dianne was a few years older than him, but that difference in
years surely was not significant enough for her to be so openly accepting of his tendency to stray.
Granted, she had been in a few other relationships before, and had even been engaged once, but did
that automatically mean she would be willing to share her spouse with any other woman as long as
said spouse was reasonably discreet? And did the same apply to her as well? Would she also engage
in adultery and expect her spouse to take her infidelity in stride as long as *she* was
discreet?

The thought turned his blood cold, and unbidden, a vision of his parent's marriage as they
were when he was a young boy flashed through his mind. The only difference there would be that
Dianne wouldn't care at all if he took innumerable mistresses, whereas his mother had been
deeply hurt by his father's infidelity.

The vision wouldn't go away as a question emerged out of the whole amoral dilemma: Was he
marrying himself? Or more accurately, was he prepared to live through life fleeting from one bed to
another, while his wife did the same?

As Draco Jr. had pointed out, Dianne was a wonderful woman, kind, giving, openly caring. But he
had missed the mark when he said she loved him; she was fond of him, certainly, and he made her
look good beside him, but love him? He had finally acknowledged that Dianne's devotion to him
for the year they'd been together was not because she loved him, but because she considered him
one of her causes, a work in progress, so to speak. A goal to be achieved. He seriously doubted
Dianne knew herself enough to love another person without reservation the way Narcissa Malfoy had
loved Lucius.

It had suited his purposes well to believe that what Dianne felt for him was love, and had even
entertained the idea of returning the feeling, as much as a man like him could, that is. He had
asked himself how hard could it be, to try and conjure up the same emotion Ginny aroused in him?
That sense of desperation that always left him feeling oddly deprived every time she looked at him
with contempt in her eyes, the inability to think intelligently wherever and whenever she was
within arms reach. He'd thought it easy, doing that; he didn't much like it when, after
months of trying to force himself to feel even a modicum of that emotion, he'd been wholly
unsuccessful to feel anything more than fondness for the petite brunette.

He'd started to feel a bit uncomfortable, in light of Dianne's openly affectionate ways,
until he realized that, like him, she considered him to be a pretty ornament, like a trophy used to
brag to her circle of friends. He was like a canvas to her, one she could mould into whatever form
she fancied. It just wasn't in her, to feel that intense emotion his mother felt for his
father, which, at first, was what he thought he wanted, what he preferred. Now, he wasn't so
sure anymore.

Which left him with what, exactly?

The life he'd chosen, Draco Jr. had been quick to answer. He was even quicker to point out
that what made humans different from animals was their choices in life. Then he'd qualified
that statement by saying that Draco had evened the equation by being born human, yet choosing to be
an animal. He didn't have a good enough come back for that; it was true, after all, and he
didn't know if he could still go back and change some of his choices. The question was no
longer whether he *wanted* to or *needed* to; the question was whether the reason for him
to consider changing his more unpopular choices would still be there, waiting for him? What lay
outside of the circle of emotional isolation he had imposed upon himself?

He looked at the clock above the fireplace; it was 2'o'clock. Twelve hours had passed
since he'd left Ginny.

He had decided to go ahead to Malfoy Manor and face his father before Dianne would join him. He
might be having more than second thoughts about his relationship with her, but that didn't mean
he'd let Lucius treat her any less than she deserved. He knew his father would probably try to
tear him apart for ignoring his summons, letters and howlers ever since the announcement of his
engagement more than a week ago, and he wanted that out of the way before Dianne joined him.

He waited for ten more minutes before he stood up and prepared to apparate. No sense prolonging
the inevitable, he thought, and with a crack, he disappeared and materialized inside Malfoy
Manor's library, the familiar smell of centuries old books lining the walls from floor to
ceiling of the massive room assailing his senses, bringing back memories of times long ago spent
inside the room. It gave him a good feeling, being back inside one of his favorite places in the
Manor, his haven of sorts, according him the quiet he often needed to try and push back from his
consciousness his father's blatant neglect. And disapproval.

“Draco.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius sat back, a picture of a relaxed aristocrat with the world at his feet, at his beck and
call. There was nothing in his posture to indicate he was bothered by anything more mundane than
what to wear next for dinner or where to spend his limitless funds on. It would take someone who
knew him really well to note that the glint in his eyes bode ill for whoever it was he was fixated
on, the deliberate synchronicity of the tapping of his index fingers against the padded arm of his
chair with the steady tapping beat of his left foot, and his slow, deep breathing meant that he was
teetering on the edge of violence. In fact, Lucius Malfoy had been champing at the bit for twelve
days, eight hours, and, last he checked, thirty-three minutes. He was not a patient man, he
abhorred being made to wait for something he wanted ten minutes ago, and he was usually very
expressive in his displeasure. Was it any wonder that every ounce of his imposing frame was about
to implode because of his son's sheer audacity at making him wait for their confrontation?

For the first time in more years Lucius cared to remember, he had been excited at the prospect
of finally being free to acknowledge to the Wizarding world the existence of his grandchildren. He
had waited four years, had exercised what little patience he had in waiting for the right time to
tell his son. He was the one who had deliberately set that limitation, but that didn't mean he
had to like it, or that he would grow to feel so strongly for two innocent children with Weasley
blood in them.

For four years he had to be content with spending an hour or two every other day with Luke and
Nicole, and all the while he had to sneak around to do it just so Narcissa would not find out. It
was frustrating in the extreme, for a man who had fallen more in love with his grandchildren the
more time he spent with them, to have that time with them be so limited. He was used to having
anything he desired before he even knew he wanted it; to be denied something now at this point in
his life, especially since that something was as significant as his grandchildren, two individuals
he never expected to grab at his heart and not let go even before they were born; well, it was
truly a miracle he had stayed sane all these years.

To wit, he had almost told Narcissa about them twice; only the fear of the events that would
inevitably follow stopped him from doing so. Instead, he had taken comfort in the fact that, if he
was waging a personal battle with his limited time with the twins, Arthur Weasley spent even less
time with them, what with his increasingly demanding political career taking up most of his time
and energy. But he wanted all the sneaking around to end now, yesterday, four years ago! He was
impatient for the Ministry's inaugural ball to commence so that all could finally be
revealed.

Then Draco just had to announce his engagement in the *Daily Prophet* twelve days ago.

Lucius' jaw clenched as he recalled the chaos that little announcement wrought amongst the
Weasleys. Arthur had demanded an explanation, but what could he tell him? That, as his father,
Draco thought so highly of him he decided to forego telling him that worthwhile news prior to
making it known to the public. Draco hadn't bothered to reply to his letters and summons, and
it didn't look like he had any intention to until the very last minute.

Molly had looked very disappointed but didn't say anything, which made him extremely wary
and uncomfortable; it was never a good sign when someone with Molly's temperament stayed silent
in the face of something as monumental as her daughter getting screwed over by any man.

Charles had looked fit to spit fire in his anger, and Percival had shaken his head and started
clucking like a chicken; Fred and George plotted on how best to retaliate in kind, and Ronald had
run the gamut of I-told-you-so's to bad apples not falling far from the tree idioms.

But it was William that really made Lucius see red; he had quietly declared that he would string
Draco up by his prick, and if that wouldn't be enough to pacify him afterwards, he was going to
make sure Draco never get the chance to be with Luke and Nicole.

Lucius knew William meant every word he said and he saw no way out of the hole Draco had dug for
himself this time around. He wasn't so much worried about Draco losing his manhood, Merlin
knows the brat needed his indiscriminate liaisons severely curtailed; if only the stubborn brat had
spoken to him first before taking that irrevocable step, he might have been able to avert disaster.
Again. As the situation now stood, Draco was in for a rude awakening.

His eyes snapped up immediately after a loud crack heralded the arrival of his errant son. Draco
hadn't seen him yet as he had made sure to sit in a darkened corner of the massive room. He
knew this would be the first place his son would think of Apparating in, and he had spent days
waiting for him to show his hide, the threads of his patience getting thinner and thinner as the
days passed and no Draco showed up in answer to his summons.

With his presence yet unknown to the younger man, Lucius took the time to briefly study the man
he had sired. He had to admit that, bias aside, Draco was a fine specimen of manhood. He was as
tall as himself, broad-shouldered and reeked of an air of authority, wealth and power, so much
power. He could see why any woman would fall over themselves to get him naked and on his back, and
where before he would probably feel smug about that aspect of his son's virility, he could now
see the problems such qualities would bring him. He had come to know Ginevra very well over the
years, and he didn't think she would appreciate Draco's attractiveness to the fairer sex,
nor his weakness to the wiles of a beautiful woman and the pleasures to be had between her legs.
That is, if Ginevra Weasley hadn't as yet decided Draco Malfoy was a hopeless case and actively
start to find ways and means to terminate any and all ties there was between them. She was a
brilliant witch; it wouldn't be hard for her to realize that the solution to her problem lay
squarely at his feet, and he knew very well he wouldn't be able to refuse her in the end. Luke
and Nicole were secure in their place in the Malfoy hierarchy; their parents getting together
wasn't a prerequisite to seal the deal. It would have been quite a boon if Draco also found the
other half of his soul in the process, but after what he did, that eventuality was growing
increasingly dim.

He schooled his face to show none of the anger he felt inside before he made his presence known
to his son.

“Draco.”

Draco stiffened. He inwardly cursed his brief lapse of concentration; ordinarily, his senses
were always attuned to his surroundings and any and all forms of threat it posed. His vigilance had
saved him more times than he cared to count, during the second war against Voldemort and among the
stiff competition in the business arena, not to mention the immediate threat to his civil status by
females looking for a leg up in the world. To have so let his guard down enough to not sense the
presence of his father in the library was a fatal mistake; Lucius Malfoy was danger personified and
only someone lacking sense would leave himself open to his form of threat.

Poker-faced, he turned in the direction of his father's voice and watched an older version
of himself emerge from the shadows, like a specter of doom about to deliver him his just desserts.
“Father.”

Lucius languidly strolled forward, his robes billowing around his long limbs. In contrast, Draco
was dressed entirely in a Muggle business suit, something that would have usually provoked his
anger before, and probably the reason why Draco had worn it in the first place. But being
constantly exposed to Muggles, Ginevra's staff composed mainly of them, he had learned to
tolerate them to the point where he'd moderated the use of the word Mudblood. He wasn't
*completely* over his prejudice with them, but he was no longer wishing them to perdition
beneath his breath all the time.

Now he looked at his son as he stood there, so sure of himself, and he wondered whether the past
four years were worth all the sacrifices he would never otherwise make.

“I have been trying to contact you for almost two weeks now, Draco. I presume you failed to
receive my messages?” One brow rose challengingly, daring him to lie.

“Mmm, must be,” Draco smoothly intoned, looking his father straight in the eye.

Lucius inwardly seethed at the bald-faced lie. “No matter, you're here now. Sit.” He
motioned to the armchairs arranged around a gleaming rosewood coffee table in the middle of the
room. “There's something important we have to discuss.”

“Oh?” Draco's voice was laced with curiosity. “What about?”

Lucius kept silent, waiting for Draco to sit before settling down himself, opposite him. “You
know precisely what about.” He kept his voice deceptively soft as he sat back, regarding his son
with a pointed look.

Draco wasn't fooled in the least by his father's seemingly calm demeanor. “There's
only one major change in my life since last we spoke, so I assume it's my engagement you wanted
to talk about?”

Lucius nodded curtly. “Tell me, Draco, was it really necessary for you to keep this news from
us? As your parents, did we merit the same regard as, oh say, the book attendant at Flourish and
Blotts?”

Draco kept his expression bland. “Of course not, but as hope I am old enough to know my own
mind, I didn't think I had to go running to you and mother for every little thing that happens
in my life. And if I remember correctly, you told me I could be with whomever I like so long as
it's not Pansy.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I'm not marrying Parkinson, I'm marrying
Dianne Winters.” He forego mentioning his second thoughts about the whole thing; Lucius didn't
need to know about that.

Lucius bristled in suppressed fury. “You know damn well who I meant when I said that! You
deliberately chose to misunderstand me, and that I find inexcusable. What possessed you to do this,
Draco? Do you know the problems you have caused because of your thoughtlessness?” His eyes flashed,
his breath hitched at the defiance he saw in his son's face. “You have no idea what you've
done.”

The anger emanating from either of them was palpable in the quiet room, but if anybody were to
look in and see them, they would probably think nothing of their rigid postures as father and son
sat opposite each other. Draco was growing more angry by the minute, and Lucius was no longer
bothering to conceal what he thought of his son's latest attempt at rebellion.

“I think I have a pretty good idea, father,” Draco replied scathingly. “I can see that after all
these years, you still think you could control me, could still tell me what I can and cannot do.
While everyone else around you grew up and moved on, you have staunchly stayed the same: An
autocratic, prejudiced bastard who thinks the world revolves around him. You refuse to see that
I'm no longer the boy you can intimidate into doing and *being* what you want. I grew up a
long time ago, and there is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about what I
intend to do with *my* life.”

As Lucius listened to Draco speak, he was surprised to feel his anger slowly ebbing, to be
replaced with the uncomfortable feeling of defeat. The feeling was so foreign, so unfamiliar; not
even his failure as Voldemort's right-hand man had left him with such a profound sense of loss.
And it wasn't even his loss to grieve over.

“My whole life I have had to live by what it was you wanted, never mind if what you wanted
wasn't necessarily something I'd wanted for myself,” Draco continued pouring out his bile.
“You keep harping on about how I have to uphold the *glory* of the Malfoy name, how it is my
duty to ensure that the Malfoy name be revered.” He crossed his arms in front of him, the only sign
of his belligerence; otherwise, there was no change in their respective positions.

“What glory? What name? You yourself single-handedly destroyed the name you put so much stock
on! But did that fact even register inside that organ residing in your head? No, of course not! Why
should it? You're Lucius Malfoy after all, you can never do wrong! Well, guess what, father?
The only thing you did right was marrying my mother, and even that you almost screwed up.”

A very real calm had come over Lucius even before Draco finished speaking. Draco wasn't
saying anything he hadn't realized for himself long before, and he wasn't surprised now by
the way his son was throwing his past mistakes at his face. This was long overdue, the airing of
his grievances; what really saddened him was everything Draco stood to lose because of his
inability to get past his resentment of him, his father. Draco was convinced that no good could
ever come from anything Lucius wanted for him and because of that, there was no hope he would
realize that his father had been working towards securing his happiness. And that, more than
anything, weighed heavily on Lucius' shoulders.

Lucius looked at the young man before him, so full of anger; Draco glared back at him. “I see,”
he said mildly, rising slowly. “There is nothing for us to talk about then. It's clear to me
that you've chosen your own path, and nothing I say will make you change your mind.” He drew
his gloves from his pockets and methodically started putting them on. “I guess I shouldn't be
surprised, not after everything that's passed between you and me. Pity.” He shook his head,
finished with putting on his gloves. He looked up to lock eyes with his son. “You don't know
what you've just lost, Draco. It's really such a pity.” He started for the doors of the
library; Draco's next comment halted him in midstep.

“Disinheritance again?” Draco scoffed. “When are you going to stop holding that over my head? I
don't need your money, father, not anymore.”

Lucius stood still for a few seconds, his back to his son, before slowly turning back and eyed
Draco stoically before speaking. “On the contrary.” He looked over Draco's shoulder, finding it
difficult to say what he had prepared himself to say just in case their confrontation went down
this route. “I'll arrange for you to receive the bulk of your inheritance by the end of the
day. As you've said, you're old enough now.” He spread his arms wide. “I'm giving you
everything, Draco. Before the day ends, the Malfoy Estate is yours to do with as you please.” His
arms dropped down his sides. “I've made arrangements for Narcissa and myself; it's time I
give you free reign, time I step down. And with your upcoming marriage, you need the Manor for your
wife and family.” He executed a small bow before he delivered his final words.

“Materially, you're now the richest man in the Wizarding world. I only have one favor to ask
before I hand over complete control to you.” He waited for Draco to nod before he continued.
“I'd really like for you to come to me, two days from now, and tell me how it feels to have
*everything* in the world you could ever want. I'm sure you have enough money to be able
to buy all your heart's desire by then.”

Draco was chilled to the bone by what his father asked of him, and he didn't like his
emphasis on everything. It was almost as though Lucius was hinting at something important,
something he knew Draco would want to have but couldn't. But there was no menace behind his
father's eyes; he'd meant what he'd said about giving him everything, and his inquiry
might just be mere curiosity on his part.

He watched Lucius quit the room, the doors closing soundlessly behind him on well-oiled hinges.
Something was in the air, but he didn't know what. He was surprised at the way their
conversation had ended, but he wouldn't dwell on it; there was a lot he had to prepare for once
the legalities of the transfer of the Estate's ownership were finalized, the least of which was
now he had the excuse to refuse setting a date for his walk down the aisle with Dianne. Taking over
from his father would need all his attention, and marriage was not going to be at the foremost of
his to-do list. He didn't think Dianne would mind; nevertheless, it was always better to come
prepared for the battle than to engage in one unarmed. He would think about Lucius later. Much
later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucius warily listened for any suspicious sound. After his talk with Draco, he had opted to seek
out the two people in the world who were capable of making him feel better without even trying. But
the place he had Apparated into was not the same one he had been used to; it was too quiet, the air
too still. He was afraid to speculate on what it could possibly mean, more than half convinced it
had something to do with a certain redhead.

“What is you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius swiftly turned around and looked down at Dobby, who looked back at him without a hint of
fear on his pinched face. He reigned in the urge to sneer at the elf, knowing the trouble he could
get into if it was known he was showing his displeasure at the insubordinate critter; Ginevra was
oddly attached to the thing, and to his horror, Luke and Nicole were also very partial to the
elf.

“What's happened? Where are Luke and Nicole? Why does it sound like the Manor's
deserted?”

Dobby sniffed. “The little master and mistress are sleeping, they are. Miss Ginny is in her
study, but you is not to bother her. She has said she was not seeing anyone.”

Lucius immediately started for Ginny's study, ignoring the scrambling elf yapping at his
heels.

“Go away,” he demanded tersely, pulling his robes from the elfs grasp, “I wish to speak with
Ginevra. Make yourself useful and bring her tea,” he ordered imperiously, not bothering to look
down at the distressed elf.

Dobby was indeed having a dilemma; he had his orders from Ginny herself, but he also knew that
he could not do anything to keep Lucius Malfoy from seeing his Mistress. He was capable enough of
using magic to prevent him from intruding on his Mistress, but he knew very well that she
wouldn't really mind seeing him, especially right now. And then there were refreshments to
think of. The mark of a good house-elf was his ability to anticipate his Master or Mistress'
needs, and therein lay his problem. What to do?

Lucius made his decision for him when he arrived at his destination, Ginny's study, and
entered without bothering to knock, taking great pleasure in shutting the door in Dobby's face.
Dobby sniffed again in indignation, before disappearing to fetch the tea for his Mistress and one
unwanted, and undesirable, guest.

Ginny looked up from her study of an enormous book, slightly annoyed at being interrupted after
she had specifically asked not to be disturbed. She had arrived at Welsh Manor earlier that day,
and after spending all morning with her rambunctious offspring, right after her conference with her
father and brothers, she had retired to her personal domain so she could begin her work on
unraveling the ties that bound her to one Draco Malfoy. Colin had immediately set out after the
twins had finally wound down and taken a nap, saying he had some people to meet and would not be
back until late in the afternoon. He hadn't asked what it was she was doing, and she hadn't
volunteered the information as well; it was better that way.

Her annoyance cleared right away when she saw who it was that dared enter her sanctuary.

“Lucius.” She moved the glasses perched on her nose to the top of her head, and sat back on her
chair, waiting for him to reach her before standing up and offering her hands out to him, which he
took and raised to his lips. “Should I ask what brought you here, or shall I hazard a guess?”

Lucius dropped her hands and inclined his head at her. “No need, you've yet to miss on your
guesses. I doubt this day would be an exception.” He waited for her to sit down before taking the
seat across from her, the huge desk she insisted on having for her study separating them.

Ginny regarded her children's grandfather with a wry grin. “It doesn't take a genius to
guess what's on your mind, Lucius. You're as transparent as crystal.”

Lucius frowned. “You're the only person who can say that about me and get away with it.” He
shook his head. “Anyway, that's not why I'm here.”

Ginny sighed feelingly. “Why do you bother, Lucius? He doesn't deserve it.”

“He's my son,” he said simply. “I might not like him at the moment, but he's still my
son. I have to at least try.”

Ginny picked up a quill from her desk and idly started playing with its feather.

If anybody were to tell her four years ago that she'd be sitting amicably in a room with
Lucius Malfoy, she would have called that somebody a certifiable nut case. If that same somebody
were to tell her in the same breath that she would be sitting across from the same wizard feeling
sorry for him, she would have probably laughed herself silly. But here she was now, four years down
the road, sitting across from Lucius Malfoy, feeling, if not sorry for him, then deeply
empathetic.

“Isn't it amazing,” she murmured, her fingers trailing down the side of the quill feather,
“the amount of hurt we, as a race, are capable of inflicting on another. What's even more
amazing, is how much hurt we are capable of enduring.” She threw the quill back on her desk,
looking up and letting Lucius know with her eyes how she felt inside. “I don't know about you,
Lucius, but I, for one, have reached my quota where Draco is concerned. I'm not holding out for
hope anymore; it's getting to be tedious and highly pathetic, the way I keep putting my life on
hold for him. Enough's enough.”

Lucius sat rigidly on his seat, incapable of finding any argument to defend his son, or even
slightly mollify Ginny's feelings. From the quiet resolution in her voice, there was no
need.

He nodded. “So. What happened when you got back?”

Ginny stood up and walked over to the wide windows with the curtains drawn, showing a
breathtaking vista of the gardens, her favorite part of the home she had made for her small family.
She wrapped her arms around herself, slowly rubbing away the chill from her body as she
contemplated the scene she had faced the moment she set foot in England.

“It was not exactly the homecoming I had expected,” she began. “I only knew about Draco's
engagement a few hours before my return, then to be literally thrust into a situation where I was
so ill prepared for…” She trailed off and shook her head sadly, then looked over her shoulder at
the still seated wizard. “I didn't know what to say; even Colin was blissfully ignorant about
all of it.” She turned to look back out the window. “So I told them what only hours before I'd
decided I would do.”

“Which is?”

Ginny wasn't surprised to find Lucius suddenly standing behind her; he was one of only a few
people who could sneak up on her successfully. “I think you know precisely what it is I intend
doing.” She inclined her head at the book on her desk. “It's what I should have done years ago;
four, to be precise. It's time.”

She waited for him to plead his son's case, asking for clemency and more time for Draco to
accept the path that had been laid out for him; instead, Lucius surprised her.

“I know,” he said simply. He clasped his hands behind his back, staring out at the perfectly
landscaped gardens. He was conscious of Ginny's eyes on him, and he could not find the courage
to meet them with his. “I spoke with Draco just a few minutes ago; it didn't go too well. There
was a lot he needed to get off his chest, and for the first time, I realized that no amount of
planning on my part could take away the fact that he is a grown man, with his will intact and on a
collision course with mine.” His jaw clenched as he was forced to say what he thought, hoped,
he'd never say. “I've given him control of the Malfoy Estate, Ginevra. I didn't want to
be around to see how he will react when he realizes he won't be gaining anything, but losing
the one thing he will never be able to replace.”

Ginny nodded in understanding. “I know. Bill was very vocal in his opinion about that.” She
sighed. “He tried *so* hard to be logical; in the end, he just couldn't. There was just
too much history for him to succeed at it, I guess. I knew my brother was passionate, but the way
he was was an eye opener for me.” She looked up at Lucius. “I presume you were subjected to the
same?”

Lucius nodded jerkily. “All of your brothers were rather *enthusiastic* about their
opinions,” he said dryly.

Ginny's cheeks twitched a bit in her effort to stop herself from smirking. “I used to think
their protectiveness was a nuisance, but I have to face the fact that they care for me and think
nothing of putting their noses in my business.”

“There's such a thing as too much family interference, you know,” Lucius murmured
resentfully.

Ginny didn't bother controlling the smirk from blossoming on her lips. “Isn't that a bit
like calling the kettle black? You can't help from interfering in my life any more than they
can, either.”

He didn't miss Ginny's deliberate association of himself as part of her family. “Well,”
he said, chest puffing out in mock indignation, “at least I don't turn red in the face when I
make my point.”

“No,” Ginny conceded, “you turn pale, instead, then start to bluster like an irate mother hen
with her chicks.” She started laughing at the disgusted expression on Lucius' face. “Oh, stop,
I shouldn't be laughing like this when my life has just gone down the drain.” She was bent over
from the middle, one arm holding on to Lucius' forearm for support as she kept on laughing.

“Glad I could be of great service to you,” Lucius said wryly, torn between feeling indignant at
being made a source of hilarity for her, and relieved that she seemed to have stopped dwelling on
the problem that was his son, even for just a few minutes. “You're certainly taking all of this
a lot better than I thought.”

“Oh, I needed that,” Ginny said after a while, taking several deep breaths. She took off the
glasses now precariously perched on her head, tossing it on her desk. “It was a choice of wallowing
in self-pity or moving on,” she said nonchalantly, in reply to his observation, flicking her hair
behind her shoulders. “Moving on sounded far better than the former, and I guess I have Draco to
thank for making the choice easier for me. If he hadn't made it clear that I could never be
good enough for him, good enough to call his wife I mean, maybe I would have gone on hoping for
something that will never be.”

Lucius stayed silent while Ginny talked, her every word hitting the heart of the matter.

“I've never been more grateful of the way you stepped in and kept Draco from knowing about
the twins,” she continued. “I have to say that I never really trusted your motives before, what
with the war being so fresh in our minds and everything that went before that. But if you
hadn't taken the reins then, I don't think I would have had the same opportunities offered
to me. If you hadn't made sure Draco never found out about Luke and Nicole, who knows what
would have happened to us, to me?” She smiled at him brightly. “I have shed my last tears for
Draco. But don't you feel guilty for what your son did. You've done more than enough for us
and I can never thank you enough for it.”

Lucius felt like a fraud; he had done what he did for purely selfish reasons: He wanted his
grandchildren, wanted to give them their rightful place in the order of things, and since Draco was
sure to make a muck of things, he was cut from the same cloth as his father after all, he took it
upon himself to ensure he got what he wanted on that belief. That he grew to care for the mother of
his grandchildren along the way as though she were his own daughter was wholly incidental, and
entirely uncomfortable to admit.

“Now.” She clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side to better contemplate the
quiet man before her. “You're no longer the head honcho. Do I take that to mean that you're
out of a house and home as well?”

The change in the direction in their conversation was very much welcomed. “You could say that,
as far as the Manor is concerned, anyway. Of course, my wife and I are not totally destitute; I
have several other properties we could move into day after tomorrow. `Course, none of them are as
attractive as the possibility of staying within shouting range of the twins.”

Her brows rose teasingly. “Don't hint, Lucius, you're as bad as Colin at it.” She went
over to a side table, poured a generous amount of brandy in a glass and brought it to Lucius, which
he took with a slight nod to the head to signify his gratitude; it was a habit they'd formed
throughout the years, her offering him a drink without asking if he wanted one, and him accepting
with a slight gesture of acknowledgment, like a nod or a slight toast. “I take it to mean that
you've decided to accept my offer?” At his nod, her smile brightened. “Excellent! I was told
that your rooms have been ready for a few days already; all you have to do is pack up and move in.
I know of two imps who have been trespassing in there almost every day, every time they manage to
elude their nannies.”

Lucius now smirked, setting aside the burden of his son's decisions and focused on the more
pleasant thoughts of Luke and Nicole. “Those two are going to be Slytherins, you mark my words,” he
stated proudly, his thought on the distant future.

Ginny didn't bother arguing with him; she, too, felt that there was no other house fitting
for the next generation of Malfoys, albeit they were half Weasleys. There were just too many hints
of Slytherin tendencies in the two for them to be sorted anywhere else.

“And I can see you're extremely pleased about that,” she said dryly, grudging acceptance in
her voice. Her answer was the further widening of the blond wizard's smirk.

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Whatever. I have to get back and try to sort out this messy
mate thing. Not to mention that I promised the twins I would take them for a short stint in Diagon
Alley after their nap, and you know they never forget about promises made to them. If you'll
excuse me?” She started for her desk; Lucius halted her with a firm grasp of her arm.

“There's no information you will find about severing your ties from a Veela in any book,
Ginevra,” Lucius said firmly. “Let it be. You'll know it when your bond is broken.” With his
other arm, he tossed his glass down in one.

Ginny's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know that for sure? Do *you* know how
to break the bond?”

Lucius looked into her eyes, deigning not to answer her with a yes or a no, vanishing his empty
glass instead. “Trust me, Ginevra. You'll know when your bond is broken.”

Ginny would not be deterred. “How? When? Are you sure? Or will there be another loophole in the
end? Tell me!”

Lucius let go of her arm and started for the door. He had it opened, ready to leave her
presence. With his back to her he stopped, his knuckles clenching on the knob. He was very tense,
his whole body screaming his indecision whether to relieve Ginny's mind of one more burden. How
it was that their moods always shifted from light to heavy in the blink of an eye was an enigma to
him, but it was always so with her.

Finally, the grudging fondness he felt for her that had grown over time won out.

“The day Draco marries another,” his voice carried over to Ginny loud and clear, “will be the
day you will be freed of your bond with him.” He looked back at her. “Take heed, Ginevra, and weigh
your options well; from this moment on, all outcomes of your bond with Draco will rest solely on
your shoulders. If your decision to end it all is final, then I will abide by it and Draco
won't be able to do anything about it. Think about your options and choose wisely.” His hand
poised on the knob again, he looked back once more. “And I took the liberty of ordering tea for
you, by the way. That elf should be about ready with it by now. I have to go to the office for a
bit and settle everything there, then I'll come back later in the evening, after your Diagon
Alley stint.” And with that, he left, leaving Ginny blinking bemusedly in the middle of her study,
unable to decide how to take the bomb he had just dropped in her lap. Again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny was still thinking about Lucius' revelation 2 hours later as she and the twins
leisurely traversed the crowded lanes and shops in Diagon Alley. She should have been taking in all
the new shops and the development of the small village in the four years she'd been away, but
her mind was too full of what her not-quite father-in-law had reluctantly told her.

Was it really that simple?

She'd asked herself that question several times, after Lucius had left, afraid to believe
and cling on to the hope that her freedom was so very near at hand. Of course, that was supposing
Draco would soon be taking that final step towards completely throwing away his right to the twins;
with him, the only certainty was to have everything down on paper, signed, sealed and, if she had
her way, magically laminated, so there was no way of destroying the evidence of his choice.

It was the only option she left open for herself. She didn't delude herself into believing
that she was over him; she wasn't, it would probably be a long time before she could reach that
point where the sight of him wouldn't leave her feeling winded and empty, but she was going to
get to that point, no matter the cost to herself. The future was exactly that, after all, far away,
and she was going to let it take care of itself.

Of Luke and Nicole, she didn't doubt that once they were older, they would discover for
themselves the circumstances surrounding their births. They were growing up to be unusually smart
kids, far more advanced than any other child their age, a fact that made her proud and uneasy at
the same time. The pranks that they'd engaged in had made her question what they were capable
of doing later on, when they were a bit older, if they were already so adept at it at the age of
three. Fred and George had walked around barrel-chested for two days after their nephew and niece
had pranked them, they were that proud of them. It wasn't really a complicated prank, but
considering they were only three, it was a big deal to them all. Later, when she found out it was
Nicole who thought of the prank, quiet, demure, and *shy* Nicole, she really started to worry.
She didn't want to add *with good reason*, but it nevertheless hung in the air. Of the
two, Nicole was more devious and cunning, and though she didn't want to admit it, more like
Draco than Luke could ever be.

“Mommy, where's Nicky?”

Ginny looked down at Luke's anxious face. It took a few seconds before what he said
registered, then fear like she'd never felt before blossomed in her chest.

“What do you mean? Weren't you with Annie out back being fitted?” They were at *Little
Witches and Wizards*, a new children clothes store which also boasts the added benefit of a mini
playground for bored kids waiting for their turn for the fitting, or for those that refused to be
fitted.

Luke shuffled his feet, pulling at his Marvin the Martian shirt restlessly. “I didn't want
to stay in there, it was stupid. They keep sticking needles at me,” he complained, his face pinched
in disgust.

Ginny started to panic, which would never do; she didn't want to make her son feel guilty
for leaving his sister to deal with the fussy attentions of the dressmaker, something which she
knew was the kind of fussy attention he hated. “Think, Luke, how long ago did you sneak away from
there? Are you sure you didn't just overlook?”

Luke shook his head firmly. “Nuh-uh! I looked and looked, she wasn't there. I had to run
when that lady saw me. She weren't in there.”

On cue, the harassed looking Annie came out, looking fit to pull out her hair in aggravation.
“Ms. Weasley, really, your children are more than I can take. *That* one had the gall to
transfigure my needles into jelly sticks,” she pointed accusingly at Luke, who had quickly hidden
himself behind his mother's legs, sticking out his tongue at the red-faced woman, “and now the
*other* has managed to disappear on me! It's too much!”

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously; it was clear that the dressmaker thought her the kid's
nanny instead of their mother. She wasn't usually so touchy about that kind of mistake, many
others had made the same after all; the twins were just so different from her coloring that it was
easy to assume they were somebody elses. And her feet wasn't so far off the ground that she
would be offended at being mistaken for Luke and Nicole's nanny, a role that she had sometimes
played out when traveling incognito. But for somebody to criticize her children, especially since
they were acting *like* children, *that* she would not take sitting down.

“Mrs. Wimburne, I don't see how *your* inefficiency is in any way a reflection of
*my* children's manners. I fail to see how you could justify working in an industry
working solely with children when you have so little understanding of their natures. And now
you've even managed to lose my daughter!” She took a deep breath, the menace in her eyes not
escaping the proprietor's notice. “If anything should happen to my daughter, I will make sure
you never work in this industry, or anywhere else, ever again.”

By the widening of the other woman's eyes, Ginny knew she understood it was a promise she
issued, not a threat. She didn't realize that she had sounded very much like a certain elitist
blond wizard, a man who could put the shivers in even the bravest, or foolhardy, man without so
much as saying Boo!

Giving the dressmaker a frosty glare, she took Luke's arm. “Let's go find your sister,
Luke.”

They marched out of the store, full of haughty disdain, but inwardly, Ginny was quaking. Where
could her daughter be? This was the first time she'd done something this thoughtless, and
Nicole was *never* thoughtless. There must have been something powerful enough to make her go
off without her mother's knowledge.

She walked briskly up and down the crowded Alley, her grip on Luke not abating. But her
son's too short legs weres limiting her movements to a bare minimum, so, with fear for her
daughter's safety as her driving force, she picked up the quiet boy before resuming her search.
It shouldn't be too difficult locating the little girl if she had merely wandered off, not too
many had hair as fair as her after all. She kept repeating that litany to herself; it was the only
hope she had after all.

Fifteen minutes later, she felt her heart leap when she saw a familiar head of hair inside one
of the shops. But she was having quite a difficult time believing that of all places to go to,
*this* would be the one her daughter would have wandered to.

Luke started squirming when he saw where they were. “Lemme down, Mommy, lemme down!”

As soon as Ginny complied, the little boy dashed inside *Quality Quidditch Supplies;* she
followed sedately behind, her eyes locked on her daughter, who looked to be speaking with somebody
hidden behind a rack. She could hear Luke's excited voice above the din of the shop, oohing and
ahhing over the different brooms and quidditch supplies offered by the shop, but her eyes were on
Nicole.

With hands on her hips, she looked down at her daughter's arrested face, ignoring whoever it
was she was talking to.

“Nicole Adrianne Weasley Malfoy! What the devil do you mean by disappearing on me and your
brother like that? You almost gave me a heart attack, young lady!”

Nicole had jumped in fright when Ginny started her rant, then when she saw it was only her
mother, she smiled that sweet smile that never failed to make anyone who saw it say `Awww!'

Ginny refused to let that smile affect her. “Don't you smile at me, young lady! I ought to
take a stick to your bottom!” she threatened, her eyes narrowed. She wouldn't, of course, she
didn't believe in that kind of punishment, but she needed to say it if only to impress to her
daughter the kind of risk she took, and that it wasn't acceptable for her just to go wandering
off anytime she liked.

Nicole's smile never wavered. “But Mommy, I *met* someone!” she said excitedly.

Ginny's brows rose, intrigued despite herself. Her hard-to-impress little girl wandered off
because she *met* someone? Taking a deep breath, she kept her hands on her hips. “Very well;
who is this someone that got you so excited you forgot you're not supposed to lose sight of
us?”

Nicole beamed and pulled at somebody behind the rack. “Him!” she declared excitedly,
gesticulating wildly at the person she was clutching, in danger of poking out an eye in her
excitement.

Ginny's brows rose even higher. The boy, for he was only a boy, was about six years old, and
if she thought her kids had white hair, they couldn't hold a candle to him. He had hair so
white it was almost like snow, and the odd thing was, he looked *very* familiar, as though he
was someone she'd met years ago, which was crazy thinking; the boy would only have been a speck
of tadpole about to meet its mate several years ago, she *couldn't* have met him
before.

“Hello?” she greeted guardedly, her arms falling on her sides. “What's your name?” The boy
just looked at her, as though she was somebody he couldn't quite comprehend. Ginny tried
again.

“Where're your parents?” Nothing. “Are you lost?” More silence.

“He doesn't talk,” Nicole confided, her hold on the boy's hands not lessening. “I've
been trying to talk to him for forever, but he just looks at me. Why is that, Mommy?” She turned
wide, trusting eyes at her mother, her expression clearly stating that her mother would be the one
person who could clarify something she couldn't quite understand.

Ginny eyed the boy closely, the feeling that he *looked* familiar not leaving her. “May
he's just shy, honey, lots of kids are taught not to talk to strangers. I did tell you not to
talk to strangers, too, didn't I?”

Nicole pouted. “But I'm not a stranger, I'm a girl.”

Ginny didn't even want to touch on that one. She kneeled in front of the quiet boy, who
didn't look to be the shy type if his stance was anything to judge by. “Why do I get the
feeling that I should know you?” she murmured quietly, her eyes roving over the boy's face.

“Mommy! Mommy! I got to have this, Mommy! Please, please, please!” Luke barreled into their
quiet threesome, clutching at a miniature model of the newest broom in the Quidditch League, a
Lightning Bolt 3000. He opened his mouth, about to resume his pleading for the prized broom, when
he saw who it was they had with them. “Oh!” he said, curiosity on his face as he looked at the
older boy.

Ginny started to remind Luke not to dash about like that, especially in a place where dangerous
items were strewn about, when a familiar voice calling out a name made the boy react.

“Philippe! *Philippe*!” Then followed mutterings in a language that she had learned under
duress while living as Moira Welsh. She was startled to hear the boy respond, the French spewing
from his mouth as he called to the woman calling out for Philippe.

Not ten seconds later, she came face to face with the woman who had broken her brother's
heart.

Fleur's eyes were only for the boy as she scolded him for disappearing on her, her busy
hands checking him over for any hurt he might have incurred while out of her sight. Finally
satisfied that the boy was all right, she straightened, a smile on her lips as she looked at the
woman who had found her son. Her smile froze when she saw who it was she had thought of thanking
for finding her errant boy.

Ginny finally understood why the boy had looked so familiar; he looked exactly as her brother
had at that age in the photo album her mother always bandied about, and which never failed to
embarrass Bill. Except for the hair, which was all Fleur's, there was no question as to the
boy's father.

She looked up from the boy and inclined her head at the stunned, and caught look in Fleur's
eyes. “Fleur.”

“Ginny,” Fleur breathed out fearfully, her hold on her son tightening, making the little boy
squirm.

“I suppose you have an explanation for this,” she said mildly, though her thoughts were far from
being mild.

Fleur visibly swallowed. “Yes, but it's not important, it doesn't matter.”

Ginny frowned. “Of course it matters! Why didn't you tell my brother he had a son?” She knew
how hypocritical she sounded, demanding that from Fleur when she herself was in the same boat, but
somehow, it felt entirely different when it was your family denied the knowledge of a child they
would have happily welcomed.

Fleur's chin rose in defiance. “Your brother hates me, he believes that I slept around,
cheated on him. Who's to say he wouldn't think Philippe was somebody else's? I
couldn't take the chance, didn't want to take the chance.” She looked down at Philippe, who
didn't understand a word of what they were saying. “He is all I've got now, I have no
family anymore. When I got pregnant, my parents disowned me and I've been alone since.”

“But why didn't you tell Bill?” Ginny demanded.

Fleur's smile was brittle. “Why? Bill can have any woman he wants, I was just one of many. I
loved him, I gave him everything, but he was only amused by me, by what I felt for him.” She placed
her hands on her son's shoulders. “Now, if you'll excuse me, my son and I need to go
home.”

Ginny's jaw clenched; Fleur greatly underestimated her if she thought she could just waltz
out of there and hide Philippe for many years again. She looked at her own children, who were
looking at Philippe expectantly; she had never tried it before, she was always afraid of what might
happen if she encouraged the twins to keep on doing it, but now there was no choice now.

“Luke, Nicky,” she called their attention, taking Nicole's hand. Luke understood right away,
and with his other arm still clutching the broom lovingly, grabbed hold of his sister's hand.
Fleur was just passing them, intent of going their way. Ginny grabbed hold of Philippe's left
hand as he passed, and with a loud `The Burrow! NOW!', she felt the world shift at her feet for
all of two seconds.

When she felt the ground stop moving beneath her feet, she was thankful that she was still
whole.

“Grandma, Grandma, I got a new broom!”

Ginny slapped her right hand on her forehead; the day was just getting better and better.

They had appeared in the Burrow's living room where her parents and brothers, minus Ron and
Charlie, were gathered looking stunned at the way they had appeared. That their shock may have
something to do with who the youngest Weasley had appeared with didn't escape her notice.

“What's going on, Gin? What the hell do you think you're doing?” Bill's tone
suggested she explain herself right away.

“Bill! There's children around, mind your language,” Molly admonished.

“How dare you! This is kidnapping!” Fleur accused, glaring at Ginny and clutching Philippe
against her stomach, effectively hiding his face from the assembled redheads.

Bill stood up and towered over Fleur, letting her see what he thought of her. “Nobody's
keeping you here. We have enough *trash* around without adding more to the pile.”

Fleur sucked in a breath. Ginny could see the trouble she was having, keeping the tears at bay,
and she wanted to smack her brother.

“Thank you, William. If you would kindly remind your sister not to bother me in the future,
maybe we could avoid this unpleasantness altogether. If you'll excuse me.” Keeping her
son's face pressed against her side, she stuck her chin in the air and started for the
door.

Ginny was having none of that, and from the look on her daughter's face, she felt the same
way too. Advancing on the retreating duo, Nicole planted herself on their path while Ginny gently
pulled Philippe away from the protesting Fleur.

“Mum, Dad,” her voice lowered, “Bill.” She presented Philippe. “I'd like *you* meet
your son.”

-->



16. Bizarre Twists
------------------



**Chapter 16: Bizarre Twists**

You could hear a pin drop.

Ginny's little announcement was met with stunned disbelief as her parents and brothers all
gaped at her, then at the boy standing in front of her, looking at them all with curious brown
eyes. Ginny knew Philippe didn't understand what was going on, but with the way matters were
progressing, maybe it was better that he continue to be left in the dark.

Bill had reeled back in startled disbelief at his sister's calm announcement; he was having
a difficult time adjusting his emotions, from the near blind rage that came over him at seeing his
former lover appear in the middle of his home, to confusion at being calmly informed he fathered
the little boy looking up at them innocently.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull here, Gin?” he demanded harshly, after he had gathered
enough of his scattered wits.

“*Bill!*”

He ignored his mother's censorious voice as he glared down at his sister; he had a lot more
to worry about than his language around young, impressionable ears. He didn't miss the fact
that only a minute ago, Fleur had been clutching at the boy protectively, keeping him turned away
from them, and he had assumed that the boy was hers, from one of her other lovers, maybe. To be
told that he was that lover was a tasteless joke and he wanted his sister to explain herself.

Ginny looked up at her brother, her hands on the boy's shoulders steady. “I'm not trying
to pull anything, Bill. This is Philippe, your son. Don't you have anything to say to him?”

Bill refused to look at the boy; his eyes swung to Fleur, who was wringing her hands anxiously,
her lips quivering, her eyes fixed on her son worriedly. He met his sister's eyes again, a
sneer on his lips. “Who told you that? Fleur Delacour? Or should I say, *Whore* Delacour?”

More than one person sucked in a horrified breath; none of them had ever heard Bill talk that
way, and they were extremely surprised at the depth of hate he was displaying for the half-Veela
standing a few feet away from him.

Ginny's face tightened; she loved her brother, he was her favorite among all her brothers,
but she was not above hexing him to make him see with his eyes this time and not with his heart.
She knew that part of him had yet to heal, and he would not be able to cope with the truth if he
let his emotions guide his actions.

In the background, she heard her mother ushering the children out of the living room, not
wanting them to hear what promised to be a difficult confrontation.

“Stop acting like such a jerk and open your eyes, Bill. Look at him!” Ginny urged, moving
Philippe slightly forward.

Bill, again, refused to do so; instead, he fixed his eyes on Fleur and lashed out at her with
every angry, hurtful word he had been storing up for years. “What's the matter, Fleur,
couldn't get the bastard who knocked you up to marry you? Or did he also find out your body was
a free-for-all and had serious doubts about your son's paternity?” He spared Philippe a
fleeting glance at the exact same time when the boy had turned his head to look up at his mother.
“Now you suddenly turn up, wanting me to believe I whelped your bastard? Tsk, tsk, did you really
think you could make a fool of me twice?”

Ginny closed her eyes in angry disbelief; Bill was so unbelievably stubborn! Though his words
were not meant for her, she felt its intensity hit her like a ton of bricks. Didn't he think he
would not only be hurting Fleur with his thoughtless remarks, he was also making his sister bleed
as well? Did he forget that she was in the exact same position, and would feel crushed should Draco
react towards his children the way Bill did to his? Granted, the possibility had never really
occurred to her before what with all the preexisting evidence of the twins paternity pointing to
none other, but there was no certainty where Draco was concerned. After all, he gave new meaning to
the word pigheaded, and though she had prepared herself already for the probability of having to
keep him away from Luke and Nicole, it would still be a terrible blow if he denied fathering her
children.

“Go. To. *Hell.* Bill Weasley.”

Ginny opened her eyes when she felt Philippe being pulled from her, and saw that Fleur had taken
her son back into the safety of her arms. There were tears in the half-Veela's eyes, tears she
no longer bothered trying to keep at bay.

“I don't care what you think of me, but don't you *ever* say anything derogatory
about my son,” she hissed furiously, her eyes spitting fire. “I can take whatever you throw at me,
but I will *not* let you hurt him. I never said he was yours,” she said haughtily, “it was
your sister who assumed he was.” She glanced briefly at Ginny before looking back at Bill. Her chin
rose. “I don't need you, we don't need anyone. And don't you ever come anywhere near
me, or my son.” With her hands clasped firmly on Philippe's shoulder, she steered him towards
the door, intending to walk out of there with as much of her dignity intact.

Ginny couldn't do anything as the mother and son prepared to walk out; she knew if they did,
her family would never see them again. Fleur had probably thought it all right not to be too
careful with their outings, considering that Bill knew nothing of Philippe, *hell*, none of
the Weasleys knew anything about the boy, and that even if he did see the both of them, he would
never believe that the beautiful boy was his. Now, Fleur wouldn't be too complacent in the
future.

Ginny was torn over what to do to remedy the situation when Bill promptly made everything worse.
Seeing his ex-lover walking out as though he had gravely wronged her, he closed the distance
between them and grabbed her left arm roughly, his large hands tightening around the fragile limb,
making her cry out in mingled surprise and pain as he jerked her back, making her lose her hold on
her son.

Pandemonium broke out. Ginny heard the cry of dismay from her father and brothers, who had all
remained quiet up to that point, as they saw what Bill had done. But they were stopped short when
little fists started flying at Bill, as Philippe did all he could to defend his mother from the
brute that was obviously hurting her. He was loudly demanding Bill let his mother go, his young
face looking fiercely aggressive. The slew of French spouting from his mouth made Ginny's mind
reel in frank disbelief.

And she could not prevent her jaw from hanging open in surprise at the boy's tenacity when
he clung to his father's right leg, punching with all his might at any body part his little
limbs could reach.

Bill had ceased his manhandling of Fleur, too caught off guard by the boy stuck to his leg like
a damn leech, ineffectually trying to inflect harm on his leg, his fair head down as he tried to
take a chunk out of his denim clad thigh. If he wasn't so furious with his mother, and by
extension him, and if he was still thinking straight, he would have felt remarkably proud of the
boy's spirit. As it was, he only felt irritated at his interference.

He tried shaking him off his leg despite Fleur's cry of outrage. It was all he could do,
trying to keep the assault from *two* directions now, as Fleur had also started beating on him
with her fists. His family wasn't lifting a finger to help him, either deliberately, or else
they were also rendered immobile with shock at the way matters had progressed. He was getting
pretty tired by all that was going on, and he wanted to end the farce now.

He flung Fleur away, uncaring if he hurt her, ignoring his sister's cry of dismay, then
peeled Philippe from his leg, hoisted him up without difficulty and shook him. The boy had his eyes
closed and his head bent as he struggled against his hold. “Stop it! I order you to stop it right
now!” Bill demanded in a loud and no-nonsense voice.

The dam finally broke; as Philippe hung several feet off the ground, a sob tore through his lips
as he pitifully asked Bill why he was hurting his mother, his eyes now open and fixed at the brute
who made his mother cry. He was shaking badly, his face showing how very afraid he was as he called
for his mother.

Bill could understand him perfectly well; he had learnt French, and several other languages,
during the course of his job as curse-breaker. His surprise came from an entirely different source;
with the boy not a foot away from his face, he could now see why Ginny had thought the boy was
his.

Because he was.

He could deny it all he want, could shout the injustice of it all atop the tallest peaks, but he
could not deny the eyes looking back at him were his own. They were wet with tears as he kept
calling for his mother, his small voice painfully young and heart broken. The sound of such pain
from one so young was not pleasant, and all he could do was stand there and stare, at his son, and
listen to him as he told him he hated him. His father.

Arms suddenly feeling inordinately heavy, Bill slowly let the boy, *Philippe*, down, who
immediately ran to his mother and buried his face in her skirts. He felt cold all over, cold and
empty, and it was then he realized just how beastly he had acted. He felt disconnected as he met
his father's eyes and saw the clear disapproval there. For once, Fred and George could not say
anything, faced with the strange behavior of their previously kind and gentlemanly brother, and
Percy was half out of his seat, ostensibly about to intervene before things progressed too far out
of hand.

He didn't need to look at Ginny to know what she thought of him in that moment and he
couldn't blame her; he thought ten times worse of himself, and was at a loss as to how to get
back on solid footing. More importantly, how was he to proceed from here?

He looked back at Fleur and his son, *his son*, and was jolted at the sight of them; Fleur
was now on her knees, her arms around Philippe, comforting him as best she could. Philippe had his
arms around his mother's neck, his body trembling as he cried. The sight was enough to melt the
heart of the most hardened criminal; it did far worse to Bill. He did that to them; he had made his
son afraid of him and what he might do to them, and the realization was like a vice wrapped around
his heart, slowly starting to squeeze. Relentlessly.

“How could you, Bill?” Ginny broke the silence, and he flinched at the condemnation in her
voice.

He turned to look at her, a world of hurt reflected in his eyes, and he couldn't find the
words to defend his actions. What defense could he possibly come up with that would explain away
the past few minutes?

He started to open his mouth, wanting to say something, *anything*, just to ease the weight
on his shoulders, when Molly Weasley came back from tucking the twins away. He knew he was in
trouble when his mother took note of the tension that had descended in the living room, and that
was before she saw Fleur and Philippe's state.

“What just happened here?” Molly Weasley demanded, fixing Bill a hard look as she advanced on
Fleur and Philippe.

Nobody said anything; none of them wanted to provoke Molly's wrath, and they all knew how
touchy she was when it came to children, even ones that were not her own. She didn't know for a
fact that the boy was her grandchild yet, but that didn't matter to Molly Weasley; she could
never bear the sight of children crying, under any circumstance.

“Well?” she demanded, when her question went unanswered. She had reached Fleur and Philippe by
that point, and promptly started rubbing the boy's back comfortingly. “There, there,
everything's going to be all right, little one, don't cry now.”

Ginny bit her lip; it was highly awkward, the situation they were all in, and she hoped that her
mother would do something that would alleviate the strain of the whole fiasco. She, herself, had no
idea how to proceed; all she knew was that she didn't want to give Fleur the chance to
disappear on them. There was a lot she had to explain, starting from when she and Bill had broken
up, and she had a feeling that Fleur would not be forthcoming about the whole thing if it were Bill
doing the asking.

Likewise, Bill also had a lot of explaining to do, and the only way for the two of them to start
spitting out what really happened more than six years ago was to exert just the right kind of
pressure. And as they, Ginny and her brothers, plus her father, were all rather hesitant in asking
either one of them to relive what promised to be a painful past, they hoped their mother (his wife,
in Arthur's case) would do the honors for them. It was cowardly of them, yes, but they would
take cowardice any time of the day; after all, it was better to go to battle with the right kind of
ammunition, and Molly Weasley was a fully loaded, high-powered Uzi. It was too perfect a chance to
pass up.

Bill was in a quandary; everything he believed to be true about Fleur was now in question.
Philippe looked to be about six years old, and if his guess was right, then it meant that right
around the time they broke up, she'd been pregnant with his son. Which meant that the
succeeding months immediately following their break up, when he was cursing her name to the four
winds, she had been carrying his child inside her. And the years he spent warming the beds of
various other witches, she had been raising his son by her own, without his knowledge.

He was just a man, so he wasn't above hypocrisy at moments such as this; he wanted to be
angry at Fleur at being denied the chance to see Philippe grow, but at the same time, the feeling
of guilt that crept up at him was too disconcerting, and entirely surprising, that he had
difficulty holding on to the anger he had harbored for years against her. At the same time that
realization dawned on him, he also had to accept that he might have some difficulty getting back on
his son's good graces. As far as Fleur was concerned, he couldn't care less what she did;
what mattered to him now was getting to know his son and try to make up for the years he had been
absent in his life.

“There, now, sweetie, it's okay,” Molly cooed, breaking through Bill's inner reverie,
stroking Philippe's hair comfortingly.

With his son in her arms, Fleur stood up; Philippe was now only sniffling, but he didn't
seem to be inclined to let go of his mother anytime soon. Nor did he seem to care that his behavior
had reverted back to one of a younger year; with the brute still around, he was never letting go of
his mother.

“I think it's time we left,” Fleur said quietly, speaking to Mrs. Weasley, grateful for her
kindness. She whispered into Philippe's ear; the boy reluctantly turned his head and, in
French, rapidly thanked his grandmother before returning to his previous position.

Molly Weasley blinked; she was rendered speechless. There was no doubt Philippe was Bill's
son, making him the eldest Weasley grandchild, and it didn't take a genius to understand just
what likely was going to happen if she let the boy's mother waltz him out of there.

The decision was not a hard one to make; she gently, but firmly, took hold of Fleur's arm.
“You're distraught, you shouldn't go out in the state you're in.” She shot Ginny a
sharp look, one which her daughter understood right away and acknowledged with a slight nod, before
starting up for the stairs. “We have plenty of rooms, I'm sure we can spare you one so you can
rest properly. You're not thinking straight right now.”

That was the absolute last thing Fleur wanted to do, spend more time in Bill's domain. It
was bad enough that his sister had virtually kidnapped them, now his mother was trying to keep her
and her son from escaping. Well, maybe only her son; she was sure that they didn't give a damn
about her. They would probably have happily thrown her out by her ear if it were not for
Philippe.

She tried to twist free from Mrs. Weasley's grip, but the older woman was surprisingly
strong. “That's really very nice of you, Ma'am,” she demurred, trying valiantly to break
free, “but I think my son would rest better in our place.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley dismissed as she doggedly dragged the unwilling woman to the stairs,
following on her daughter's trails who had gone ahead to ensure that there was room the mother
and son could use. “We're all family here.” Her intonation brooked no argument and thankfully,
Fleur bit her lip and didn't say anything in reply to that bald statement.

Fleur had no choice but to go with Bill's mother, she really only had two choices anyway: go
with her willingly, or be dragged to wherever it was she intended taking her and her son to. Too
much had already been said and done in front of Philippe, and though he couldn't understand
their verbal argument, he was too smart a boy to fail to notice that there was something going on
between his mother and the tall man who had hurt them.

In all the years she had spent virtually alone but for Philippe, she had tried to make sense out
of what had happened between herself and Bill, why he seemed to hate her so much, and she always
came up with the same answer: Nothing.

She had been infatuated with him ever since her seventh year, when she first laid eyes on him in
Hogwarts, the year she and a number of her fellow classmates had come over to England to
participate in the Triwizard tournament. He had been amused by her crush on him; he was several
years older, a man of the world, but being a young woman who'd been given everything she ever
wanted, it never occurred to her that he might be the first disappointment she was bound to
experience. She was young, she was beautiful; why would *any* man refuse one such as she? But
Bill *did* refuse her, and it stung.

After she graduated from Beauxbaton Academy, she had begged and cajoled her parents into letting
her come back to England despite how dangerous the times were then, what with Voldemort and his
supporters gaining grounds against the Ministry. Bill was in England, therefore, to England she
would go. Working for Gringott's was a nuisance she had to endure, and she knew the reason she
had given for coming back was totally ludicrous, but she didn't care; she had finagled Bill
into assisting her, and that was all that mattered to her.

Convincing Bill that she was woman enough for him took a bit more time, though; not much, but
considering she was half-Veela, resisting her charms should have been near impossible. She was
beautiful enough, but there was any number of witches who were more beautiful than her, and older
too. The only way she could compete is if she could somehow prove to Bill that her feelings for him
were the real thing, and the only way her eighteen year old self thought of doing that was by
seducing him.

It had been tricky, and she met far more resistance from the man concerned than she had
expected. Who knew Bill Weasley had reservations initiating a young woman into the pleasures of the
flesh? She had expected him to jump at the offer she'd made of her body, but either he was just
not attracted to her (and she'd scoffed at the impossibility of that), or, he thought she was
off-limits to him. So she took matters into her own hands and initiated `Operation: Weasley
Seduction'.

Looking back, it wasn't very smart of her, what she did. Getting Bill Weasley drunk enough
to forget his scruples and bed her was not only foolish, but highly dangerous. There was no knowing
when the next Death Eater attack would take place, and all those in the side of light needed all
their wits with them.

Bill had lit into her after he had sobered up; he was furious with her for endangering their
lives, but most of all, he had been concerned that, with his mind clouded with alcohol, he might
have hurt her unknowingly in the process. Her assurances that she was unharmed did not ease his
mind, especially when he saw the amount of blood stains on the sheets of her bed.

But it was worth it; being made love to by Bill Weasley was the most exhilarating experience she
had ever felt in her life. At the same time, being examined if he had torn her beyond repair was
*the* most embarrassing experience she had ever had to go through. But apart from seeing for
himself that he had not ravaged her like an animal, there was nothing she could do but let him
check *that* place where he had earlier been enthusiastically pushing in and out of like a man
possessed. She'd felt satisfaction at the way Bill had lost his control once he saw her naked,
and any discomfort she'd endured after that was well worth it. She'd told herself that his
legendary control over his lust for her had at last snapped, and she was finally reaping its
benefits. Surely, with lust already in place, love was not too far behind?

The months that followed were all she had ever dreamed of; sure, Bill hadn't made love to
her until two weeks after their first time, but that proved to be a blessing as she'd needed
that time to fully recover from the soreness between her legs. She hadn't been able to get out
of bed the day after their interlude, and Bill had looked at her with an expression that clearly
said `serves you right' before taking off for work. But after day fourteen, she had happily
welcomed him back into her arms, giving him as good as she got, her relative inexperience
notwithstanding.

Their sex life had been great; Bill had a voracious appetite for sex, and she was only too happy
to oblige him. He'd taught her everything he knew, and she had learned to experiment on her
own, which resulted in the two of them trying to outdo each other in bed. He'd been rather
trenchant about the need for protection; he was a *Weasley*, he'd said, and what
Weasley's did best was reproduce. She had tried to tell him that she wouldn't mind the
consequences of their sexual encounters, but he was so adamant about it that she had no choice but
to do as he asked.

Often times, in the back of her mind, she had wondered why Bill was so against the idea of her
getting pregnant. They were old enough to start a family, and what was even more important, she was
eager to give him a child. She knew if she carried *his* child, there would be an even
stronger tie that would bind them together. It never occurred to her that he might not want her to
mother any of his children; he loved her, she believed with all her heart that after all the months
they'd been together, after all the trials they had to go through, after everything that she
had done to show him her feelings were for real, he finally felt for her what she felt for him.

That is, until she saw him kissing another woman, and not in a sisterly or friendly kind of way,
either.

The other woman had been Heather Grant; she learned of her name some time later; a colleague of
his, and one who had recently come back from Egypt where Bill had been previously assigned. Tall,
brunette, with the most beautiful violet eyes she had ever seen in her life; everything suddenly
fell into place. Apparently, she and Bill had been lovers in Egypt, and since Heather was now
permanently back on English soil, she hoped to pick up where they left off. Bill, just as
apparently, was only too eager to say yeah to that suggestion.

She tried to act normal, tried to pretend that she hadn't seen what she'd seen. Tried
not to comment on Bill's increasing inattention on their relationship. She no longer worked in
Gringott's, but it wasn't hard to find out about the two of them, every moment they got
together, and what it was they inevitably did together. He came home to their little nook later and
later; sometimes, he would floo her to tell her he would be staying out all night, working on a
project. She would smile and make some lame remark about him working too hard, when she knew for a
fact he was not really working *on* a project, but rather Heather.

She kept her council for months. Bill kept up appearances by continuing to have sex with her,
but in the times he did, she couldn't help but think he was doing it to throw her off the
scent. Adversely, she had twice been unable to keep from cringing when he touched her. He had
looked oddly at her, both times, before setting his suspicions aside and doing his duty by fucking
her brains out. She didn't know how he could stomach it, going to her after he'd been with
Heather; conversely, she could not understand why she kept letting him do it.

She lived in her personal hell for four months; she had withdrawn into herself, refusing to meet
with her friends, even her sister. When Bill's attention towards her significantly improved,
she wasn't surprised; he and Heather had broken up, amenably, or so she'd been told. The
old Bill came back with a vengeance, and she firmly told herself she could forgive his
unfaithfulness. But when they were together in bed, she found out that no matter how hard she
tried, she could not forget. Even after a year had passed, she was still haunted by the ghosts of
his faithlessness.

She tried to bury those painful memories by creating new, happier ones, and she was successful,
up to a point. He still wasn't inclined to move their relationship to the next level, and she
had given up hoping that he would; if the day came, well and good, but if at the end he was going
to finally end things between them, then it would just be another form of hurt she would have to
cope with, just as she'd coped before.

All was as well as they could until one day, she slipped. They had been lucky that first time,
had both sighed in relief when nothing came of that ill-thought of seduction. She didn't even
realize her mistake until she was three months along, and when she did, she knew Bill would be
furious with her, would not believe that she hadn't done it deliberately, to trap him.

She could not just confide in anybody, there was no assurance whoever it was she told of her
condition wouldn't go running to him and gleefully tell him of her secret. So she called in
Pierre.

Pierre Devereaux was, *is*, her best friend; she could trust him not to betray her
confidence. That, and she'd always suspected he'd had a thing for her, but seeing she was
over the moon for Bill, had decided to let his feelings fizzle out.

In Pierre's arms, she poured out all her fears, leaving nothing out. He had listened,
understanding her need to vent. Later, after she'd quieted down, he had convinced her to visit
a Medi-Witch, and after listening to her plead to come with her, only too gladly accompanied her.
When she came back to the place she shared with the father of her then unborn baby, a boy she'd
been told, she was greeted by the sight of Bill with a large suitcase at hand, and a terrible
expression on his face. She could not understand half of what he'd accused her of, could not
even remember what she said in her defense; what she was focused on was the fact that he was
leaving. Even after he'd been gone, she still could not comprehend what exactly had happened.
When the shock of his leaving finally registered, she broke down in their living room.

She didn't know how long she stayed on the floor, crying her heart out, but when Pierre
found her later in that state, he had panicked and brought her right away to St. Mungo's. She
would not tell him what happened, just asked him to gather her things from her flat and to bring
them to her in St. Mungo's.

When she left St. Mungo's, she didn't once look back. Even Pierre didn't know where
she was going. After she'd made him swear not to breathe a word of her condition to anyone, she
just disapparated, never to be seen again by anyone who knew her in England.

At least, until a few minutes ago.

She paid closer attention to Mrs. Weasley as they came to an open door.

“There you go,” Mrs. Weasley declared, after hauling the reluctant young woman past the door.
Ginny was standing by the side of the bed, her eyes on Philippe, whose curiosity was peaked enough
to raise his head from the side of his mother's neck to look around the unfamiliar room. He
quickly spoke to his mother, anticipation in his eyes; Fleur merely shook her head.

Ginny bit her lip; it was better for Fleur to find out for herself that the answer to
Philippe's question was yes. If she knew her mother at all, there was no way Molly Weasley
would let the pair walk out of there, and a determined Molly Weasley was a force to be reckoned
with.

“Here, let me take him. Your arms must be tiring.”

In a blink, Philippe was plucked from Fleur's arms into Mrs. Weasley's, and Ginny fought
the urge to laugh at the stunned look on the blonde's face. “You are a big boy, aren't
you?” Mrs. Weasley mock complained as she juggled Philippe on her hips.

“*Qui est-ce que tu?*” Philippe asked as he tried to wriggle free from his
grandmother's arms. Downstairs, he had regressed to an earlier age, in fear of his mother's
safety; it was obvious that he had just remembered he wasn't a baby to be cuddled anymore.

Ginny intervened; Philippe's wish to be let down was apparent and loud as he quickly
declared he wasn't a little boy. Just as apparent was her mother's wish to keep her eldest
grandson in her arms, his wishes be damned, especially since she could not understand the words
coming from his mouth.

“Umm, Mum, I think you'd better let Philippe go,” she suggested helpfully, as a minor
scuffle ensued between the two. “He's not going anywhere, and you're not exactly doing his
pride any good by treating him like an infant.”

Mrs. Weasley looked ready to veto her suggestion, but the wriggling body in her arms was getting
harder and harder to hold on to. “Oh, all right,” she conceded grudgingly, letting Philippe down,
expecting him to run back to his mother. It was obvious he thought about doing just that, but the
six-year-old curiosity in him won over the need for safety and familiarity. Unbidden, his feet
carried him over to a shelf by a corner, stocked with all kinds of books, magical and non-magical
pieces of literature arranged without any discerning order in mind.

“You put us in Bill's room?” Fleur asked incredulously, once she was slightly over the
disjointed succession of events from the living room to the upstairs room. It may have been more
than six years since she'd last been in Bill's room, but it was difficult to forget
something that had been so much a part of your life.

Mrs. Weasley hadn't paid any attention to the room Ginny had readied for Fleur and her son.
Now she did, and could not help throwing a dark look at her unrepentant daughter.

“What?” Ginny asked innocently. “Bill can bunk in with the twins, or he could sleep in the
attic, let the ghoul jar some sense into him. And Philippe likes it here. See?” She motioned at the
boy who was busily leafing through a huge, leather-bound book on the floor, his face alight with
excitement. “He's comfortable here already. Trust me, I know these things,” she finished
smugly, grinning at her mother.

“You - you - ”

“Ah, ah! Language, my dear,” Ginny said airily, wagging a censorious finger at the sputtering
Fleur while throwing sly looks at the engrossed little boy. “You wouldn't want Philippe unduly
influenced by his mother's colorful vocabulary, would you?”

“He wouldn't understand a word if I cussed you in English,” Fleur hissed heatedly, but
nevertheless clamped her mouth shut reluctantly. She had always been careful around her son, and it
irked her that Bill's sister could make her forget herself so.

“He looks so much like Bill,” Mrs. Weasley suddenly said, amazed; she had knelt down behind the
boy, gingerly touching his hair, his back, his arms, and Philippe would occasionally look up at her
with a smile, forgetting that she was a stranger to him, a stranger with the same shade of hair as
the bad man downstairs.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That might be because, oh, I don't know, he's
*Bill's?*”

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at her daughter again as she straightened up. “You know what I
mean,” she said, miffed. “I love Luke and Nicole, but you and I both know they take after their
father more. Can you blame me if I get overwhelmed at the sight of the past staring me in the
face?”

Fleur watched Bill's sister and mother volley words back and forth, seeming to have
forgotten that she was in the room with them, which would have suited her better, had they been in
a room in a house other than the Burrow. As it was, the way they were taking for granted the little
fact that she and her son had been reluctantly brought there, grated on her.

“Excuse me!” she called out loudly, nodding in satisfaction when she got their attention. “This
is all well and good, I appreciate how kind you've been, but would it be possible for me and my
son to leave now?” Blank stares were the only answer she got. She tried again.

“While it makes me immensely grateful that you both are willing to accept my son as one of your
own, at face value, what matters is Bill's opinion. And in case you didn't notice, he was
rather loud at denying Philippe was his.”

A snort. A pair of them. Trying to make mother and daughter see beyond what they wanted to see
was like pulling teeth! And on top of that, her son looked to have retreated to a world all his
own, where only books mattered, leaving her floundering like a fish out of water among his
relatives.

“Nonsense! Bill didn't mean what he said back there,” Mrs. Weasley said confidently. “You
could see how surprised he was when he saw the boy up close. He was just angry, and shocked, and
defensive -”

“Don't forget idiotic,” Ginny put in her two cents worth. “And pigheaded. Always was
pigheaded, our Bill,” she said, nodding her head for emphasis.

“I don't care,” Fleur stressed. “We don't want him in our life, not after all this time.
It's far too late. I don't trust him, and believe me, he feels the same way about me.
There's no going back for us, and I'm sorrier about that than you could ever possibly begin
to comprehend.”

Mrs. Weasley frowned. “Of course you shouldn't go back, why would you want to do a foolish
thing like that? The best way for the two of you is to get past your differences, and go forward.
Let the past stay there, and build on what your future could be now.”

“Gaaah!” Fleur cried, exasperated. “It's not as simple as that, Mrs. Weasley! If it were,
don't you think I wouldn't have tried to get back together with Bill? You don't know
what happened with us, and I have worked long and hard to try and put all that what happened behind
me for me to open up that can of worms again. I refuse to do it!”

“Nothing is impossible, my dear,” Mrs. Weasley said calmly, “and you don't have to tell me
all that happened. Just try to see that you won't be helping Philippe by depriving him of a
father. Are you willing to let him grow up, believing that he was a mistake?” She took hold of the
younger woman's hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “I am willing to listen to what you have
to say, *anything at all*, that you might want to talk about.” A loud crash shook the
questionable foundation of the Burrow. “Just not now,” Mrs. Weasley finished, as she watched her
daughter's face pale, then flush, before she swept out of the room, loudly calling out
Luke's name. “Why don't we leave Philippe here for a moment and try to see what the
commotion was all about, hmm?” She didn't leave Fleur much choice as she grasped the
half-Veela's left hand and ushered her out of Bill's room, to find out if Luke had
successfully maimed himself this time.

They found themselves back in the living room, with Ginny looking down furiously at her son,
several Aurors with wands drawn, fearing the noise to be a form of attack on their new Minister,
further crowding the already crowded living room.

“What did you think you were doing?” Ginny asked, hands on hips, foot tapping impatiently,
waiting for her grinning son to realize that he was seriously in trouble this time.

“Flying,” Luke answered simply, his face showing his enjoyment. “Uncle Ron taught me.”

“And did Uncle Ron tell you to crash your broom in the roof and take out a good portion out of
it, as well? Did he tell you that was the best way to get your neck broken?”

He shook his head, still grinning. “I slid off. It was an accident.”

Ginny closed her eyes in exasperation. There were times when she seriously questioned her
sanity, and most of those times was whenever she was around her two offspring.

She counted to ten before trying a new tack. “What did I tell you about flying?” she asked,
trying to keep her voice even; there were several people looking on, and it wouldn't do for her
to kill her son in front of so many witnesses.

Luke thought for a second. “That I wasn't allowed to fly until I was ten,” he recited from
memory.

“And how old are you now?”

“Four.”

“And what were you just doing?”

“Flying.”

Ginny's temper was seriously on the edge of flying itself. “Why were you flying then, if you
knew I *specifically* told you you couldn't until you were old enough?”

Luke blinked. His answer wasn't long in coming. “Because you got me a broom.”

The five Aurors, plus her family and Fleur, waited for Ginny's answer to that innocently
oblivious, and yet inflammatory, answer, and saw first hand how a red head battled with her
instinct to throttle the boy before her. Then they watched as her previously red face turned pale,
as she then started to march out of the house, her posture stiff.

“Where are you going?” Arthur Weasley couldn't help asking, as he watched his daughter march
off like she was off to do battle.

“Quality Quidditch,” was the terse reply.

They were all puzzled by the workings of Ginny's mind. For clarification, Percy voiced the
most obvious of questions.

“Why?”

All of them didn't know how to take her reply.

“Unless I want the only daughter of the next Minister of Magic to be branded a shop lifter in
the Wizarding world, *I* have to go pay for a broom!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night was young when Ginny came back to the Burrow. It had taken a lot of fast talking on
her part to convince the proprietor of Quality Quidditch that there was never any intention on her
part to filch the broom; he was more than annoyed at the way they had just disappeared from his
shop, taking with them such a priceless item. In the end, he had only let his irritation go when
she said she was going to pay for the broom, plus all the training and safety gears appropriate for
a four year old. It did not, in any way, indicate that she was giving in where Luke was concerned,
but he was a sneaky boy, and she nor his countless relatives and nannies could not watch over him
all of the time; it was better to ensure that there was a measure of safety when he was using that
damned broom, rather than receive the bad news that her son had finally succeeded in attaining what
he had promised to attain since the time he managed to crawl out of his crib: Break his neck.

The Burrow was quiet, the Aurors stationed at the perimeters doing their best to blend in with
the environment. When she walked in the door, she didn't know what to expect after all the
excitement of the afternoon.

The living room was blessedly empty, and the hole Luke had made of the ceiling had already been
repaired. She didn't know where everybody had gone; for sure, her mother would be standing
guard over Fleur and Philippe, but with the following day's activities looming over their
heads, it was impossible to predict where each of her siblings would be off to.

Security was tight around each of them, and she knew how her brothers felt about being watched
over like a bone thrown among a pack of starved hounds. As for herself, she had taken all the
heightened security in stride; at least the Aurors were less conspicuous than the bodyguards she
had been forced to employ in America. She understood the need for them, but the same couldn't
be said for her brothers, grown men all who were used to looking after themselves. She wouldn't
be at all surprised if one, if not all of them, had tried to shake off their security detail at
least once; they wouldn't be Weasleys if the thought hadn't crossed their minds.

Spying a light in the kitchens, she went to check who it was, and was not at all surprised to
find Bill, with a half-empty bottle of Ogden's finest in front of him, his elbows on the table,
head cradled in his hands. He didn't look up when she entered, not even when she sat down
across from him, shooting daggers with her eyes at him.

They stayed like that for several minutes, neither one breaking the uncomfortable silence. Ginny
waited for Bill to start talking, not wanting to do or *say* anything that might keep him from
letting out what it was that had driven him to drink; she knew *what* it was, of course, but
how it came about was what she wanted to know. From the tortured look on his face, it wouldn't
be long before he would be spilling his guts out.

Which was about two heartbeats later.

“I'd had the ring for some time, you know,” Bill spoke softly, his eyes fixed on the glass
before him. “I'd had it for about two months. She didn't know, of course, it was supposed
to be a surprise. I saved for several months to be able to afford it; it was a diamond, one carat,
nothing magical about it. She's always liked diamonds, said there was something about it that
touched her. Not because it was expensive or anything like that; she told me she liked it because
to her, a diamond was like life, how it has so many sides to it, so many unexpected depths. How
precious it is no matter how tarnished it could get over time. She didn't believe that it was
at all cold; she admired its hardness even, just like life, she said.” He picked up the glass and
downed its contents then refilled it again to the brim. He was already pissed; thankfully, Bill had
always been a lucid drunk, something that never made any sense to his brothers. After all, what was
the point of getting wasted if you were still possessed of all your logical mental faculties?

He took a deep breath, leaned back on his chair, his head tipped back, eyes staring at nothing.
“I knew she'd been waiting for me to ask her to marry me, but I just kept holding back. I
don't know why I was hesitating so much. I knew I wanted to marry her, it's what everybody
expected we'd do eventually.” He straightened and met Ginny's eyes. “Did you know I had an
affair several months after we moved in together? Yes,” he said emphatically, nodding his head, “I
did. I, Bill Weasley, had an *affair*.”

Ginny was having a difficult time keeping track of the sudden shift in topic; at the same time
she was also have a hard time reconciling her brother's confession to the talk they'd had
previously. Four years ago, he'd told her *Fleur* had cheated on him; now, he was telling
her *he* was the one who'd had an affair? She suddenly felt as though her world had just
tipped on it's axis, and she was balancing precariously over the side. That, and her jaw was
still around the vicinity of the floor.

His eyes glazed, the effect of three-quarters of a bottle of firewhiskey clearly taking it's
toll on him, Bill smiled at his sister's stunned face. “I know what you're thinking,” he
stated definitely. “I thought it too; no, I *knew* it. Or, at least I did. I don't know
anymore.” Another shot of potent whiskey went down his throat. “I don't really know if what I
did with Heather could be considered cheating, though. I'd been with her before - before Fleur,
I mean. We had a great time together, she was fun to be with, very accommodating,” he said, trying
to rationalize what he did so many years ago. “When she arrived from Egypt, we just started to get
together, and before I knew it, I was sleeping with her too.” He grinned, as though remembering a
pleasant memory. “To be honest though, I was doing more than sleeping with her, if you know what I
mean.”

Ginny did know, unfortunately, and she wanted to slap the smirk off her brother's face; she
knew it was the alcohol talking, but she just could not believe how arrogant he was, and how much
of a bastard. She had always thought she knew him best out of all her brothers, but the way he was
describing himself now made her question if she'd been walking around with blinders over her
eyes when it came to the men she loved in her life; first, Draco, now Bill was proving to be just
as much of a prick.

Bill kept on drinking, as though he was using the alcohol as a courage booster for what he was
too cowardly to say while sober before. “It went on for months, four months, I think. I knew Fleur
knew about it. The affair I mean; I could not help but notice a little clue here and there of her
knowledge of it slipping from time to time. I waited for her to confront me about it, waited for
her to threaten to leave me if I didn't stop seeing Heather. But she never said anything.” He
went back to cradling his head with his hands, messing his already messy red hair. “I told myself
maybe she just didn't care, you know, that she saw us, me and her, as just temporary anyway, so
why rock the boat when the sailing was only fleeting? I never did understand why she liked me so
much; if it was just about the sex, she could have had it without going to so much trouble.” He
looked at his sister through his straggly hair.

“The first time I saw her, I wanted her so bad I couldn't even talk. All I could do was
stand there and grin like an idiot. Afterwards, when I was far enough away to think, I wanted to
bash my head against a wall for lusting after a school girl. *A school girl!* Can you begin to
imagine what that felt like? I shuddered to imagine what my friends would have called me had they
known I was leaning that way. So I did everything I could to make her believe that I wasn't
attracted to her.” He started rubbing his temples in slow motions. “Even after she'd graduated
and came to work for Gringotts, I had a difficult time getting around my reservations about her
age. Just because she no longer wore a uniform didn't make her any less of a school girl next
to me. It was awful. Then to one day wake up and find her beside me in bed? That was one of the
worst days of my life. And the best. I wanted to regret what happened, blamed her for the whole
thing, but she felt too good for me to pass it all up. The damage had been done after all, why not
just go for it? It couldn't hurt to try and take the edge off of my perpetual hard-on for
her.”

Ginny wanted to cover her ears; it was one thing to hear about her brother's problems in all
its excruciating details, it was quite another to be hearing about his sex life. She was going to
be scarred for life before the night was through, she had no doubt, but she wanted to help her
brother despite her desire to also hurt him for running around behind Fleur's back.

“I knew she knew about Heather, I just didn't think she cared so little she'd screw me
over with Devereaux! She knew how I felt about that snotty French prick, so of course she went to
him!”

Ginny almost jumped out of her seat when Bill suddenly banged his fist on the table. The bottle
of firewhiskey tipped over, spilling a few of its contents before she hurriedly picked it up and
set it in front of her, away from her red-faced brother who looked fit to kill.

“Merlin, I almost lost it when I saw her pressed up to him like that. I didn't know what
they were talking about, and I didn't wait around for them to start tearing their clothes off.”
A vein visibly throbbed at his temple, his jaw clenched. “When I came back, they were gone. I
packed my bags. When she got back, she wanted to know where I was going, and when I told her I knew
about her and Pierre, she had the temerity to say I was wrong. *Wrong!* Gods, if only that
were true, if only I didn't know just what I was to her.” His shoulders drooped, and his fisted
hands loosed; wearily, he leaned forward until his head was lying on the table, his arms pillowing
his forehead.

“I loved her so much,” he said hoarsely, voice muffled, “I might have stayed despite what
happened with her and Pierre; if there had been a chance that she saw a future with me, I might
have forgiven her and let the whole thing go. I could forgive her one affair, just one, and only if
she would be honest enough to admit that she'd been having one - she couldn't even give me
that. I just couldn't stay and act as though it didn't matter, that her continuing to sleep
with another man while she was with me wasn't tearing me apart. I didn't want it to come to
a point where I might have hurt her, physically hurt her, and where my head was at then, I knew I
wouldn't be able to control myself. I wanted to hate her, but I didn't want to give her
cause to hate me, too.”

Ginny looked at her brother's slumped form piteously, and spoke for the first time. “Maybe
if you had stayed around for a little while, you might have found out something differently,” she
suggested quietly, and watched as his head rose and his eyes focused on her from behind the fringes
of his red hair.

“Maybe it was all a misunderstanding; maybe the both of you were so sure you couldn't
possibly love the other back that you both just let go.” She smiled faintly at the intense look in
her brother's eyes. “I won't presume to tell you what went wrong in your relationship, only
you and Fleur knew what it was that caused you this much grief. But I do know something about being
loved; or in my case, *not* being loved. No, no, it's okay, really,” she hastily said when
she saw understanding dawn in her brother's eyes. “It's just that, I hate to see such
feelings go to waste just because of a misunderstanding. From what little Fleur has said, in the
six years you've been apart, you two have never once tried to settle what it was that tore you
apart. You do realize that half your problem can be easily overcome: Despite saying you hate Fleur,
you still love her, you've probably never stopped loving her, and admitting that now would have
won half the battle already.”

She stood up, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans. “I heard somewhere that it's
almost next to impossible to change a man's feelings,” she said quietly, her head down.
“It's easy enough to make a woman fall for a man, despite her wishes otherwise, but I know for
a fact that you can't just make a man love you simply because you want him to. It doesn't
work that way.” She met Bill's eyes, letting him see beyond her words. “Think about it, Bill,
and try to decide now what you want to do before it's too late.”

She turned around and started for the door, weary beyond belief. Bill's question stopped her
in mid-stride.

“Isn't it? Too late, I mean,” Bill asked, his tone laden with fear.

A smile touched her lips as she looked at her brother. “They're upstairs,” she replied
simply. She turned around and tilted her head to the side, considering her brother. “Talk to her,
listen to her. And even if you do decide that you never want to have anything to do with her again,
you just might be surprised at what you may find out.”

“What if I won't like what I found out?”

“That's a risk you just have to make,” she said sensibly. “You have to ask yourself if
you're prepared to accept what happened in the past; that's the only way the two of you can
go forward. Deal with the past first, fix whatever needs fixing, but don't for one minute think
that you can just ignore it. The past will always haunt you, and if you don't resolve it now,
it will rear its ugly head when you least expect it, and there's no telling whether that time
around, you're going to be able to get past it ever again.” She had reached the door before she
stopped again and looked back at her brother.

“Think, Bill,” she said quietly. “Look back and think. And when you have eliminated the
impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Bill watched the door swing shut behind his sister; he didn't know when it was Ginny had
grown so wise, but she was right. He had to face up to the past, had to own up to his culpability
on the matter of his relationship with Fleur was concerned, or rather, where it was that things had
gotten so fucked up. He had wasted six years of his life, never knowing what it was he wanted to do
with it. His mother had been constantly at his back of late, wanting to know when he was going to
settle down and start a family. He was thirty-one years old, and he didn't even have a
permanent girlfriend. He was never without a female companion, that was the least of his problems,
but it had never occurred to him that the reason why he never saw any of his involvement with those
women as anything beyond that in the bedroom, was because he was still haunted by the one woman who
had single-handedly managed to capture his heart, and never bothered to return it.

He had been fighting it for longer than he cared to remember, had been saying it to anyone who
bothered to listen, but deep inside, where it really counted, he knew he wasn't over Fleur,
probably would never be over Fleur. He didn't know what possessed him to cheat on her, when he
never felt anything stronger for Heather other than extreme fondness. Maybe he had been flattered
to have two beautiful women by his side, he didn't really know. But more importantly, he
didn't know how to explain it to Fleur should she ask him about it.

Then there was Fleur herself. That first month he had left her, he had been confused when he saw
Pierre with another woman. He had wanted to come up to him and ask him what he was about, but had
refrained at the last moment; it wasn't his problem anymore, and if Pierre had already dumped
Fleur for another woman, it was nothing she didn't deserve for what she did to him. Fleur
proved to be a bitch; karma was apparently a bigger bitch, and he'd thought no one deserved it
better than Fleur Delacour.

That was what he told himself six years ago.

“*Gods,*” Bill groaned feelingly, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, “what
am I going to do?” His question was asked of no one in particular; he was alone in the kitchens
after all. But Ginny's words came back to him loud and clear: *When you have eliminated the
impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.*

What if he'd been wrong? What if what he'd believed in for all these years was all a
figment of his own guilty mind? Did he really dare venture that way? And if it was proven that
he'd been wrong, what could he possibly do to make up for everything he'd done all those
years ago, and that afternoon? He had acted like a monster; even he wouldn't be so forgiving of
himself.

He stood shakily on his feet, swaying slightly for a second before gaining his footing. “I need
to sleep on this,” he mumbled under his breath, slowly making for the door. He needed to talk to
Fleur, but at his currently pissed condition, he was probably going to worsen his case rather than
solve their problems of six years. When he was sober enough, nothing was going to stop him from
confronting the past with the mother of his son. Until then though, he was better off sleeping off
the effects of the firewhiskey.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fleur had been fighting a silent battle with herself; she was currently in bed, in
*Bill's* bed to be precise, while her son was with Ginny's twins. She had baulked at
being separated from Philippe, but if Ginny was a stubborn witch, her daughter was a whole
different species altogether. She didn't even know at which point she had agreed to let her son
sleep in the four-year-olds rooms; all she could remember was listening to the little girl plead
and looking at her peculiar, *and familiar*, gray eyes and before she knew it, she had agreed
to let Philippe sleep one floor above hers. This family was dangerous to her equilibrium, she had
felt it seven years before, and now it was even more glaring. And whoever heard of
twenty-six-year-old witches going to bed at eight in the evening?

She was tired though, bone-tired, and when her back touched the unbelievably soft mattress, she
was asleep within minutes.

Bill trudged heavily towards his room, keeping to the walls to support his inebriated state. It
was a good thing his room was only on the second floor, and not way up to the fourth floor; if he
had to navigate up another flight of stairs, he wasn't so sure he wouldn't wind up with a
broken neck. Winding up dead would probably solve a lot of his problems, but it wasn't a choice
he wanted to entertain. Yet.

He stumbled into his room, making enough noise to wake up the dead; it was early yet, so there
was no need for him to worry about waking up anybody. His room was pitch dark, which was odd,
considering he always left a light on inside his room, a little habit of his that drove his mother
insane. But in his current state, the darkness was better; it was a reflection of his possible
future, and his mood.

He started taking off his shirt, leaving it where it fell; he felt hot all over, and he had
never appreciated sleeping in the buff more than he did now. He sat down heavily on the side of his
bed and yanked off his boots one after another, dropping them with a loud thump on the wooden
floor. He struggled next with his pants, having a problem with the catch, then the zipper, before
he finally had the offending garment down and around his knees at the same time he lost his balance
and landed heavily on his side. With a grunt and a muttered curse, he stood back up again rather
ungracefully and kicked free of the loosened clothing. He cursed again when he faintly heard his
wand hit the floor and roll somewhere. In his boxers, he debated whether he should look for his
wand now, or try to locate it the following morning. The softness of the bed won hands down and in
one move, he had divested himself of his last piece of clothing and slid under the covers, almost
purring in gratification. Tomorrow was soon enough to try and face what would prove to be an uphill
battle named Fleur and the past; for now, sleep was all that mattered.

Fleur was dreaming; she had had the same kind of dream off and on for the past six years, so
wasn't really surprised at how explicit it was. It was always about making love to Bill, how
good he felt when he was weighing her down on the bed, how small she felt when he was looming over
her, how hot his body felt against her own. What she loved most about these dreams of hers was how
wonderful it felt to once again feel Bill filling her body, how deliciously full he made her feel,
how tight a fit they made together.

So when she once again dreamt that Bill was making love to her, she didn't think there was
anything odd about it. The same wondrous feelings were filling her once again; when he settled on
top of her, pressing her down on the bed, she smiled and eagerly opened her arms and her legs to
welcome him. When he grabbed the backs of her knees and opened her thighs wider and higher, she
arched her back to encourage him. When he kissed her and pressed his tongue past her lips, she met
him with her own, showing a good accounting of herself in the way she battled with his talented
tongue. What was the norm, however, was the twinge of pain she felt when he plunged his cock in
her. *That* was not supposed to feel that way.

She wanted to complain, especially when Bill started moving vigorously, but her mouth was
otherwise occupied, and all she could do was moan against his mouth. Which he probably took to mean
that she was liking what he was doing when he speeded up. *That* did not happen in her
previous dreams as well. But no matter, it was getting better now anyway; the twinge of pain was
gone, replaced by a tingling sensation that started at her toes, slowly traveled up her legs until
it was all she could feel, right before she shattered completely. Bill, mercifully, followed
shortly thereafter, a first for him; he was always a several-round type of man. She wasn't one
to quibble though; this whole dream sequence was unusual halfway. When Bill slumped over her and
apparently drifted off to sleep, still inside her, she smiled, wrapped her limbs around him and let
dreamless sleep, once again, take over.

Bill felt unusually satisfied; he hadn't allowed himself to dream about Fleur in years.
Well, he had staunchly refused naming the svelte, white-blonde haired woman that was a constant
fixture of his nightly visions Fleur, at least. But the dream he had just had was too good to
bother denying what had been staring him in the face for several years. The way the dream made him
feel, oh, it was enough to keep a grin on his face for a week.

He turned on his side and snuggled closer against his pillow, his arms tightening around the
soft material. He was bordering between that state of wakefulness and sleep, his body supremely
relaxed, his mind idly wondering if his sister hadn't somehow mistakenly switched the
twin's pillows with his own. He didn't usually like his pillows perfumed, especially when
the smell reminded him so much of Fleur. But then again, after his dream, he was open to anything,
and the pillow did feel extremely good. And since when did Gin start using such fragrance on Luke
and Nicole's pillows anyway?

Before he could properly examine what it was he was currently holding on to as though his life
depended on it, he was jarred awake by a loud screeching coming from what he was positive was the
door, and then by another rather loud scream, this time unfortunately within the vicinity of his
right ear.

*“For the love of -* would you please stop that god awful *screaming*? People are
trying to sleep here!” he muttered, highly irritated, burrowing deeper on his bed, tightening his
hold on his *pillow*.

Quiet reigned for all of two seconds before Bill was forced to full wakefulness by a rather
violent whack to the head with a pillow.

“What the- !”

“Get up, you *irresponsible* yob!” Mrs. Weasley fairly screeched, brandishing the pillow
over his son's head threateningly.

Bill could not believe how fiercely his mother was looking at him. “What's wrong, Mum?” He
tried to sit up, letting go of his pillow, when said pillow suddenly bolted and threw him over the
side of the bed. He landed on his elbows on the floor with a dull thud, buck naked.

“Awww, goddamnit!” he cursed loudly, nursing his elbow. “What - Fleur!?”

Molly Weasley and Fleur Delacour were treated to the show of William Weasley, eldest of the
Weasley children, scrambling awkwardly to his feet, then as though recalling his naked state,
making a mad dash for the bedcovers to cover his birthday suit.

“What were you doing in my bed?!” he growled, wrapping the sheets around his hips. Then his eyes
widened when it finally occurred to him that Fleur was similarly inadequately dressed. “Why are you
naked ?!”

The missile Molly Weasley was holding started flying again, hitting Bill unerringly. “How.
Could. You. Do. This. Again” she screeched, launching the pillow left and right, Bill's
attempts at evading failing magnificently.

“Aw, aw! MUM! Quit it already! I don't even know what happened!”

“Do you deny that you took advantage of this young lady again.” Mrs. Weasley demanded, readying
the pillow for another good walloping.

Bill glared at Fleur, who was looking at them both with round eyes. “Yes! I don't know what
she was doing in my bed, but this is *my* room and THAT is my bed. If anything, you should ask
*her* if *she* took advantage of *me!*”

Fleur gasped and Mrs. Weasley looked ready to let fly again. “Don't you lie to me, young
man! I know Ginny told you to stay with the twins last night. I can't believe you would do this
Bill!”

Bill sputtered. “I *didn't* do anything! And Ginny didn't tell me anything about
staying away from my room last night - ”

“Opps!”

Mother and son quickly looked to the doorway to see a sheepish looking Ginny, edging away slowly
from the door.

“Just came to say we're taking off,” she said quickly, turning on her heel just as soon as
her last word was out, wanting to be somewhere else entirely before her mother decided to turn her
formidable temper on her.

“SEE! See! She looks guilty as hell!” Bill pointed out, pointing at his sister's retreating
back.

“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY! Get back here this instant!”

That tone was not to be disobeyed; Ginny knew it, hell, even the gnomes out in the backyard knew
it. Shuffling her feet, she peered over the side of the door, an innocent smile on her face.

“Yes, Mum?”

Molly Weasley's massive chest rose in indignation. “Did you, or did you not, tell your
brother that Fleur was using his rooms for the moment?”

Not even four years of cinematic experience could keep the guilt from showing on her face.
“I'm sorry. I didn't have the chance to tell him. When you asked me to talk to him, he
wasn't where I left him, and I just assumed he left. I didn't think he'd go up to his
room; it was only past eight then. Nobody in this house ever sleeps at eight.”

Bill looked at his sister incredulously. “I was drunk, Gin! It was pure luck I even got to my
room in one piece! I wasn't in any condition to go out anywhere!”

Ginny flinched. “I'm sorry, okay? And anyway, nothing could have possibly happened; you
finished off a bottle of firewhiskey last night. That should be enough to knock out a Clydesdale,
so really, Mum, there's nothing to worry about.”

“They were NAKED in bed, Ginevra! I didn't give birth to seven children and still be
ignorant as to what happens when a man and a woman are naked in bed together!”

“Heh, really?”

“GINEVRA!”

Ginny jumped; her mother looked like she wanted nothing more than to knock some sense into her
with the pillow. Her brother, however, looked to be contemplating fratricide.

“Shalom?” Three people watched as Ginevra Weasley, mother of two, sprinted out of her older
brother's room and disappeared to somewhere safe.

Mrs. Weasley took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself before facing her son again. This
was a disaster in the making, she knew it, and it was the most inopportune time for it to
happen.

“We will talk about this later. The two of you have picked the worst time to do this,” she said
evenly, her back to Bill. “Today only needed this. Your father needs your level-headedness today,
Bill, and you will damn well act like the mature adult that you are. After the inaugural ball, I
want you and Fleur to be here, at the Burrow, without fail, or there will be hell to pay. Do I make
myself clear?” She looked over her shoulder at her son, who was boring a hole on the wooden slats
of the floor. “Do I make myself clear?” she repeated, turning around and plunking her hands on her
hips, her right still gripping the pillow.

“Yes, Mum,” Bill replied quietly, ashamed at being put down like a naughty twelve-year old.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Good. Now get dressed. There's a lot of preparations to do before this
evening's gala, and Mr. Smithers has already been asking for you.” She transferred her gaze to
the quiet woman standing with her back pressed to the wall, as though wishing she could blend in
with the décor and be forgotten. “And I don't want to hear about you leaving again. God knows
there might already be another Weasley in the works inside of you, and I don't want a repeat of
what happened with Phillipe. When you're through being shocked, come to Ginny's room and
I'll have a dress brought to you shortly.” She marched to the door, just barely remembering to
toss the pillow she was holding on the bed. She was past the door and had just disappeared out of
sight when she did an abrupt about face. “Oh, and breakfast is ready in the kitchens. It's
pancakes and eggs and bacon today. Do hurry up getting dressed before the food gets cold.”

Bill and Fleur blinked, repeatedly, to try and get back on track; Fleur could not believe that
Mrs. Weasley could act so tyrannical one minute, then maternal the next, while Bill just was plain
thrown with all that had happened to him in less than twenty-four hours. At the same time, they
looked up and looked at each other, remembering at the same time the predicament they were in, and
Bill watched another female run out of his room like the very devil was after her. Appropriate,
really, for if it turned out that something *did* happen last night, and she was
*enceinte* once again, he could very likely act like the devil on her heels.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Why are you lurking out here? Aren't you supposed to be inside, doing the pretty with all
your father's guest?”

Ginny glared at Colin; she'd thought she had been doing well, trying to remain
inconspicuous, keeping to the shadows of the huge Ministry ballroom. It was at best difficult to
hide, what with her hair coloring standing out like a beacon in the brightly lit room, she
didn't need her friend practically pointing out an accusing finger at her, ensuring that the
difficulty she was having in maintaining anonymity become a total impossibility.

“Will you keep your voice down! Sheesh, it's hard enough keeping a low profile without you
practically slinging a billboard-sized placard around my neck.” She glanced apprehensively around
the crowded room before pulling Colin strategically in front of her.

Colin rolled his eyes. “Do I even have to ask why you're acting so paranoid?”

Ginny didn't even spare him a glance; there was already a thoughtful look on her face.
“Maybe it's not wise for you to stand so close to me after all; if he sees you, he's sure
to know that I'm with you.”

“Aw, stop pushing me! What's wrong with you!” Colin glared at his best friend while fending
off her attempts to push him away. “And who's He? Don't tell me you're still worrying
about Draco?”

“Oh please! I'd take what Draco could do to me any day of the week compared to him.”

Colin's brows rose, intrigued. “Really? Don't tell me you've already found somebody
else.”

Ginny frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You're worried about a `him' seeing you, and considering that you only act like this
around really interesting men, *and* you haven't yet told me his name, I'm supposing
he might be the one if he's already had your knickers in a twist.”

“Ewww!” Ginny said in horror and disgust. “I can't believe what you just said! I'll
probably have nightmares for a month, thank you very much!”

“What did I say?” Colin asked, truly perplexed.

“You just used the words interesting man, the one, and my knickers in conjunction with my
brother! God, that is just so wrong in *so* many levels.”

“How was I to know?” Colin said defensively. “If you had only come right out and told me who it
was you were so touchy about, I probably wouldn't have jumped to conclusions and consigned you
to an incestuous relationship.”

“Stop saying it!” Ginny demanded, swatting at his arm furiously.

Colin started laughing; he couldn't help it. He welcomed the lightness of the moment, a sort
of prelude to what later on could be constituted as the most difficult moment of her life. He
wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and there was no doubt anyone hearing what had
transpired just seconds ago would think that there was something seriously wrong with the two of
them, that didn't matter so much as the here and now. And the here and now was Ginny feeling
preoccupied with something else other than Draco Malfoy.

“Ok stop!” Colin said finally, catching both Ginny's hands. “Seriously though, why are you
hiding from your brother, of all people? And incidentally, that brother would be?”

Ginny sobered right away and darted a nervous look left and right. “Bill, and if you only knew
what I did, or failed to do, you wouldn't be laughing at me.”

“Sounds serious,” Colin commented. “What did you do? Set him up with somebody he couldn't
stand?”

That was so close to the situation at hand that Ginny couldn't find the right words to
explain. “I - ”

“Ginevra.”

Ginny froze; Colin was intrigued at the guilty look that dawned on his friend's face. She
slowly turned to face her brother, unconsciously pressing up against Colin's front.

“Hullo, Bill.”

“There's no place on earth you can hide from me, Ginevra Weasley. I *will* have my
revenge.” Bill's face was completely devoid of expression, but the threat in his tone was hard
to miss.

Ginny cringed. “Look, Bill, I didn't mean to do it, really. I'm sorry Mum got so angry
with you. I would never deliberately do anything you wouldn't want me to do.”

“We'll see,” Bill said mysteriously. “We'll see.”

Ginny and Colin watched Bill's back as he walked away, his large frame made even larger by
the dark suit he was wearing. He looked even more handsome than he usually was, even with the
dispassionate scowl that appeared on his forehead just before he turned away.

“That was definitely frosty,” Colin whispered in awe, throwing an uneasy look at Ginny, who
looked like a small child who'd just been told there would be no Christmas for her that year.
“What was that all about?”

Ginny pulled a face. “I, ah, *accidentally*, might have, you know, left the barn open and
shoved the bull in?”

“What? What the hell does that mean?” Ginny started mumbling and he leaned closer to try and
hear what she was saying. “Speak up, will you?”

“I made Bill sleep with Fleur last night!” Ginny hissed furiously.

“WHAT!”

“Shhh! Don't be so obvious!”

“ME?! What about you! Don't you think what you did seemed a bit more *obvious?*”

Ginny tapped her cheeks agitatedly, taking slow, deep breaths. “I didn't mean to do it,” she
said plaintively. “I just didn't have the chance to warn Bill that Fleur was going to be
sleeping in his rooms last night, and that he should bunk in with Fred and George. The end being,
Mum woke them both up, bare-assed naked.”

“Wow, Gin.” Colin shook his head. “You're really in for it now; Bill would never just let
this go. He hates Fleur, we all know that.”

Ginny sighed. “That's just it. I know he doesn't really hate her, but because of what
happened last night, I'm afraid that it may have jumped the gun a bit.”

“What?” Colin snorted. “C'mon Gin, you yourself told me what Fleur did to him, and I'm
quite sure that Bill would never let any woman get the better of him, even one as aesthetically
perfect as Fleur Delacour. He hates her, just admit it.”

Ginny threw him a dirty look. “I know what I told you, but more than anything else, I think I
know that my brother would never just turn his back on his son, no matter his feelings for the
mother of said son.”

“Don't jump the gun again, Gin; they only had sex again last night, there's no way to
know for sure she could get pregnant after only one encounter.”

Ginny smiled and nodded at a passing guest before answering Colin. “Ok one, Bill's a
Weasley, and a Weasley could impregnate even the Gobi desert. And two, I wasn't talking about
any future Weasley he might have inadvertently cultivated last night.” She ignored Colin's
comment about her making Bill out to be a farmer; she took another deep breath. “I was talking
about the son he already had, with her, six years ago.”

“W-what!?”

Ginny nodded. “I discovered that little piece of news yesterday afternoon. Or I should say Nicky
saw Philippe first, I made the connection later.”

“You're positive? Is there a possibility that you could have been mistaken?” Colin was
having hard time believing what he was hearing. Bill, a father?

“Yes, I have never been more sure in my entire life. That's why I know that Bill would move
heaven and earth to try and resolve his quarrel with Fleur. But what with last night's
fortuitous encounter, there might be a whole lot more awkwardness than there already is between
them. And it's all my fault.”

“There, there,” Colin said, taking Ginny in his arms. “I'm sure Bill won't do something
really painful to you. Awful, maybe, but not too painful.”

“Gee, thanks Colin,” Ginny said dryly, pulling out of his arms indignantly. “Now you've
really made me feel a whole lot better. What would I do without a friend like you?”

Colin didn't miss her sarcasm and grinned playfully. “You know me, I'm always here for
you, whenever you need me.”

“With friends like you, who needs enemies?” Ginny muttered, earning her another of Colin's
wide grins. “Why don't you go somewhere, you know, away from me? Before I decide to carve you
out like a juicy, twenty-pound turkey.”

“I'm gone,” Colin said soothingly. “Oh, before I forget. Blaise was looking for you earlier,
something about dress coordination or some such silly thing. He's here somewhere, and he looked
good enough to eat. Yum!”

Ginny shook her head as she watched her best friend wade through the veritable sea of people
that were her father's guests. She was used to such crushes, but that didn't mean she had
to like it. One advantage of the gathering was the fact that very few people there knew about her
other life in America, which saved her from having to engage in small talk with people she
didn't have a thing in common with. Being the only daughter of the new Minister of Magic
entailed that she be polite to all these people, but they were really not interested in her; at
least, not yet. She only hoped the media coverage would be limited to only the ones in Britain;
very few of them would know about Moira Welsh, and she would like to keep it that way. It was
difficult enough having to explain later on about her two children, and she knew she would have to
explain about them; it would be doubly hard to also have to try and justify her decision to live
practically as a Muggle for four years, in another continent.

“There you are, cara.” The owner of the deep voice that suddenly materialized behind her made
Ginny turn around overly fast; her shoes caught on the hem of her dress. Fortunately, she fell into
the strong arms of the man who startled her, who then helped her get back on her feet, but
didn't let her go. She bit her lip to try and control her physical reaction to the contact, and
forced a smile to her lips.

“Hello, Blaise.”

Blaise Zabini *was* a sight to behold. It was the first she had seen him in a muggle suit;
pureblood that he was, he didn't look too uncomfortable in the clothes covering his powerful
build. And she said so.

“My, don't you look dapper! I can quite understand Colin saying you were a meal he
wouldn't mind gouging himself with. Yum!” Ginny looked at him with such a lascivious leer that
the tall Italian could not help blushing.

It was a night of many firsts for Blaise; it was the first time he had ever worn a muggle suit,
the first time he had blushed, and the first time he would be proposing. But considering that
tonight's inaugural ball of the new Minister of Magic was also going to come down in the
history books as the first ever to be done entirely the muggle way, he felt slightly mollified,
slightly being the operative word.

“I see you still have no problem sharpening your claws,” he drawled lazily, sweeping down and
planting a lingering kiss on her cheeks. She frowned up at him.

“What do you think you're doing?” She was completely thrown when Blaise laughed huskily.

“Oh darling, surely you can wait until we're alone later,” Blaise admonished, dropping a
fond kiss on her nose.

Ginny tried to wriggle free from his arms, but he wasn't letting go anytime soon. “What are
you about?” she asked fiercely, willing her eyes to shoot daggers at him.

Blaise leaned closer and whispered by her ear. “Relax, cara, I'm only doing what I've
been bidden to do. But I must say, I'm enjoying myself immensely.” He grabbed her right hand
and shoved a ring on her ring finger.

When Blaise released her, Ginny quickly glanced at her hand to see what kind of ring he had put
on her finger, and was floored to see the huge diamond set on a platinum base winking up at her. It
was sure to be very expensive, but she could not quite keep the grimace from appearing on her face;
it might fetch enough galleons to purchase a small Mediterranean island, but it sure was ugly.

“Don't take that off,” Blaise warned when she looked up at him with a question in her eyes.
“And take that surprised look out of your face, we have company.”

Ginny didn't even have enough time to blink before Blaise's arms came around her once
again, and turned her around to face whoever it was that was coming their way. She didn't have
a problem recognizing the bundle of fluff that was positively oozing with excitement as she dragged
her companion with her; only a fool would forget one such as her, if only to try and avoid her. Her
companion, however, was one she had steeled herself to face that night. He was Blaise's cousin,
best friend and the father of her children. The father of her children who was currently engaged to
a creature she would love to pitch into the black sea.

“Draco, it's so good to see you!” Ginny only managed not to cringe at Blaise's cheerful
voice. “And who's this? Such a lovely creature.”

*Creature is just about right*, Ginny thought cattily, fixing a smile to her lips, as she
watched Dianne Winters smile flirtatiously up at Blaise, fluttering her lashes at him. It took all
Ginny's efforts not to snort at the tiny woman; she was obviousness personified. And again, she
marveled at her short stature, wondering if there was a short person somewhere in her family tree.
And talk about being gaudily dressed; if her neckline was any lower, anybody could practically see
right down to her toes.

Draco, however, wasn't listening to Blaise or his fiancé; his eyes were fixed on the way
Blaise's arms were draped possessively around Ginny, and he couldn't help but recall what
his father had told him a while ago. Obviously, Blaise being `taken' with Ginny had progressed
quite in his favor, if the rock on her finger was anything to go by. It was also difficult to
ignore the way Ginny was standing so close to Blaise, practically leaning on him. He was fighting
down the impulse to pull her away from the suave Italian, but only because he didn't want to
make a scene with so many people present. But if Blaise's hand started wandering to places he
had no right to wander, he would not be accountable for cutting said arm off.

*Get off your high horse, Malfoy,* you *don't have a say where Ginny Weasley is
concerned*, Draco Jr. jeered. *You lost that right the night you got yourself engaged to
another woman.*

Draco inwardly seethed; the voice in his head had the worst timing. He didn't want a
reminder of his current civil status; he knew very well he was engaged. But he didn't care; he
had no way of controlling his reaction to Ginny, and he wasn't completely averse to the way his
body always reacted whenever she was near. He knew he ought to just let things be; after all, he
had already decided that he wouldn't let his reaction to her cloud his judgment. But it was
damn near impossible to deny the way his body always gravitated to hers. Even if he didn't want
her, which was unlikely to happen anytime soon, he didn't want to see others pawing what was,
essentially, his.

*You are such a selfish bastard, you know that, right? If Ginny knew what you were thinking,
she would hex your balls off and roast* *them over a bonfire. Hell, if there was a way for me
to reach her, I would happily tell her what you thought of her so I could gleefully watch as she
kicked your ass.*

Draco tuned out Draco Jr., and concentrated on the way his cousin's left hand move slowly up
and down the curve of Ginny's left hip. The implied intimacy was glaring, and he ground his
teeth together. Hard.

“Are you okay, Drake?” Blaise asked, noticing the hostile look on the blonde's face. “You
don't look very comfortable there. Anything paining you?”

The smile Draco gave his cousin was full of menace. “So. How come I never heard that you and
Ginevra were engaged?”

Dianne gasped and immediately launched herself onto Ginny; Ginny didn't have the chance to
react to Draco's question as she was inundated with a female that was as pesky as a puppy, or a
child with ADD. Seriously, she needed to consider cutting down on her sugar consumption, if only to
spare the rest of the human populace.

“You are the first one to know, actually,” Blaise fabricated smoothly. “I asked her last night;
fortunately, she said yes. Her family doesn't even know yet. We're hoping to share the
happy news with them after this night's affair. It would be a double celebration of sorts;
I'm only sorry my parents couldn't be here. I'm sure they would love my little Ginny.”
He smoothly extricated Ginny from Dianne, and gave her a resounding kiss on the lips.

The reprieve Ginny had gotten while Dianne was all over her had given her time to mask her
shock. She didn't know where Blaise had gotten the idea to claim her as his fiancée, but she
had a feeling she knew the answer already, and she didn't know whether to thank him, or shave
his head off. The former, probably, but at the moment, she needed to play along with Blaise.

Draco's head was about to explode; he needed to get away from the two of them, fast.
Quickly, he took Dianne's elbows and started to back off.

“Congratulations then. I'm sure you two will be very happy together. If you'll excuse
us, I see my parents. Let's catch up later, Blaise. Your place.”

“Not tonight, Drake, Ginny and I have some celebrating to do in private. I'm sure you know
what I mean,” Blaise drawled suggestively.

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded tersely. “I'll Floo you.”

Ginny and Blaise watched as Draco practically dragged Dianne away. Blaise had yet to let go of
her, and only did so when she pointedly pried his hand off her abdomen.

“What the hell was that all about?” she asked calmly, looking up at her `fiancée'.

Blaise grinned down at her. “Your not-quite father-in-law suggested that little scene, my dear,
and I have to say, it went quite well, don't you think? Draco was practically frothing in the
mouth. I have to watch my back though; he's quite nifty with his hexes and I wouldn't want
to end up with unattractive boils anywhere on my person. And Potter would probably relish seeing me
with those boils, too, so I can't depend on him to watch my back.”

Ginny shook her head. “You men are unbelievable. And did you have to really put a ring on my
finger? What if I get asked what this means? We might me biting off more than we can chew.”

“Don't worry, my dear; broken engagements are not unheard of. We just play this farce out
until someone otherwise sees the light, or gets himself shackled. And the ring's Lucius',
by the way, a family heirloom or something.”

“No wonder it's so huge,” Ginny said, examining the rock. *And quite ugly*, but she
left that thought out entirely. “I don't like it, though; diamonds were never my style,” she
diplomatically said, instead.

Blaise tapped her nose playfully. “You're too nice for your own good, luv.” He grinned at
her, and if she were anybody else but Ginny Weasley, she would have probably already fainted.
“It's ugly as hell, but you don't have to like it, you just have to wear it. Now that
I've done my duty by you, I'm off. I have to go light a fire under Potter's arse.”

Ginny laughed. “You have absolutely no regard for your safety, Blaise, darling. First, Draco;
now, Harry? Is it your life long ambition to make me a widow even before we get to the altar?”

Blaise winked. “Life would be otherwise dull, darling. And I wouldn't mind dying tomorrow if
I could get to share your bed tonight. No? Pity, then. I'll just have to strive to live another
day `til you do.” He executed a bow before her, then turned and disappeared amongst the crowd.

Ginny sighed; that first meeting with Draco didn't go so bad. Sure, she didn't exactly
say anything directly to him, or contribute to the short conversation with a word at all, but it
went well as a whole. She only hoped the next time would go just as smoothly. The night was young,
and Luke and Nicole had yet to make an appearance. Once they did, and Draco saw them, she only
hoped he would keep his civility. Otherwise, all hell would break lose. There was no doubt about
*that.*

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Did we really have to come here tonight, Lucius,” Narcissa asked worriedly, eyeing the crowd
before them. “I haven't finished supervising the house elves on what to pack for when we move
out of the Manor. If only you had told me a month in advance that you were planning to uproot us,
then I might have had more time to prepare.”

Lucius plucked two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, and handed one to his wife. “It is
imperative that we be here tonight, my dear,” he said cryptically before taking a small sip of the
bubbly. “And I have a feeling that you'll feel the same way in a few hours.” *Or
minutes.*

“I can't see why,” Narcissa said quietly, nodding and smiling at people she knew. She tilted
the glass to her lips and took a delicate sip of the champagne. “These people are not exactly our
friends. In fact, I'm almost sure that they would happily see us with dementors on our backs,
preferably in Azkaban.” She raised a challenging brow at her husband. “Don't tell me that
you've suddenly become chums with Arthur Weasley, and would be heartbroken if you missed this
momentous turning point in his life?”

Lucius chuckled at his wife's quip. “Darling, your wit truly is amazing.” His eyes glittered
as he spied the gathering crowd. “No, Arthur and I can never be best friends, but you'd be
surprised at what fate will hand you when you least expect it.” He slipped an arm around
Narcissa's waist and tipped his glass against her own. “Tonight, darling, *you'll* be
the one who'll be tested.”

Before Narcissa could ask what Lucius meant, she was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.
She reluctantly moved out of her husband's arms, and turned to see her son.

“Draco, darling.” She quickly tipped her face to receive a kiss from her son. “This is a
surprise,” she said, her brows arched questioningly. “This is the last event I would expect you of
all people to attend. Don't tell me you've also made friends with the Weasleys? I've
already asked your father the same, and as you know, he's as talkative as a clam when it comes
to his associations.”

Draco's lips curled up at the ends in disdain. “Hardly, mother, but it wouldn't do for
me to offend the office of the Ministry of Magic by blatantly ignoring the inauguration of their
new leader. After all, I'll be taking over for father very soon, and I need to maintain
civility with all of them for the business' sake.”

Narcissa nodded. “Of course, darling.” Then she seemed to notice for the first time that woman
who was clinging to her son's arms. “And who might this be?”

Draco made the introductions in a monotone voice. “Mother, I'd like to introduce you to my
fiancée, Dianne Winters. Dianne, my mother, Mrs. Narcissa Black Malfoy.”

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Malfoy, I've heard so much about you, and
couldn't wait to meet you. I must say, you don't look old enough to have a grown up son. I
have been after Draco about meeting you, and Mr. Malfoy, of course, but there was never any time.
He is so busy, and never finds enough time to just sit back and relax. How about you? I'm sure
your husband must also be a very busy man. How do you find being the wife of such a powerful and
influential man? Oh, I can't wait to sit down with you and talk about what it is you do when
Mr. Malfoy is otherwise occupied. I must say, though - ”

Lucius itched to curse Ms. Winters' lips shut. He had never had the misfortune to meet a
person who talked incessantly, with absolutely no substance to her words. It was as though she had
only learned the power of speech, and was taking every opportunity to exercise that newly gained
prowess. He looked down his nose at her, and couldn't help but compare her to Ginevra Weasley;
Ms. Dianne Winters came up way short on every aspect he could think of. He didn't know what his
son could have possibly seen in such a chatterbox; the only thing she had over the mother of his
grandchildren was the ability to talk without needing to come up for air, apparently.

He turned his eyes to his quiet son, and haughtily arched a brow in disdain.

Draco wanted to clap a hand over Dianne's mouth. The first few minutes that she had talked,
his mother had been politely nodding her head, and benignly smiling down at his fiancé. After ten
minutes of her nonstop monologue, it looked as though Narcissa Malfoy's renowned patience was
about to snap.

“ - and I do so love that gown you're wearing. Is that by Valentino, by chance? Don't
you think that he's simply the best designer in the world? I - ”

“Dianne,” Draco interrupted loudly, “I think I see a friend of yours waving at you. Chuck? Jack?
Mack or something? He's over there.”

Dianne frowned. “You mean Hugh? Hugh Chapman? Where?”

“He was there somewhere,” Draco replied vaguely, and waved his arm across the room. “Why
don't you try and find him?”

“Oh. Okay.” She turned back and smiled at Narcissa. “I'll be right back, Narcissa - I can
call you Narcissa, right? After all, we'll be family shortly. Great!” She didn't even wait
for Narcissa to nod in acknowledgment. “I'll be back shortly. We still have lots to talk
about.” With that she walked away, her short legs surprisingly carrying her quickly away.

Narcissa turned horrified eyes at her husband, who soothingly patted her hand. “Don't worry
my dear, she won't have a chance to harass you. After we move out of the Manor, you'll
never have to spend even a minute in her presence.” He sneered at his son. “I'm sure where
we're going, you'll have an infinitely better time. I'm quite sure that the people
where we're moving to are quite socially trained, even the wee ones.”

Draco's smile was strained; his headache was getting worse and worse as the evening
progressed. “I apologize, Mother. Dianne can be quite - enthusiastic, around new people she meets.
And you being who you are, she was quite beyond herself with excitement.”

“She didn't even say anything to you, Lucius,” she remarked wonderingly. “Of course,
considering she barely paused in her ranting, I'm surprised she even heard Draco.” She gave her
son a doubting look. “Are you sure you know what you're getting into, Draco?”

He gave a stiff nod. “Dianne's heart is in the right place, it's her mouth that she has
no control over.”

“I'll say,” Lucius muttered under his breath; he smirked at his son when it appeared that he
heard his starchy comment. Draco didn't look pleased that his father appeared to be making fun
of his fiancée. *Too bad for him*, thought Lucius, satisfaction pouring out of his every
pore.

“Why don't we move to another location, my dear, before Ms. Winters comes back. And look, it
looks as though the ceremony is about to begin. I wouldn't miss this for the world.” He nodded
at Draco. “I'm sure you and your *fiancée* will do very well without our presence, Draco.
If you'll excuse your mother and I?”

Draco watched as his parents moved closer to the raised platform that had been constructed at
the very front of the room. He knew his father was a wily man, but he found it hard to understand
how the Ministry could trust him with so few reservations. They should have been wary of him, he
was a Malfoy, after all; that alone should have been enough to raise their hackles a bit. But
*no.* They welcomed him with open arms.

He shook his head and decided to keep to the sidelines; it might be a necessity for him to be
here, for a lot of different reasons, but that didn't mean that he had to mingle with all these
people. And so, he propped a shoulder against a column, and watched the proceedings unfold before
him.

He couldn't wait for the night to be over; he planned to spend at least two hours fucking
Dianne before going to bed. If he didn't, he'd probably not be able to fall asleep for
thinking of what Ginny and Blaise were doing together. He didn't really believe that Ginny
could fall into another man's bed so easily after she'd been in his, even if that other man
was Blaise, so he wasn't too worried about that. He was still undecided as to what he should do
with his relationship with Dianne, and Ginny, too. Whether he should stick to his earlier decision
and marry Dianne, or try and mend his fences with Ginny.

He shook his head and watched as the redheaded Weasleys slowly started filling up the stage. It
was going to be a long night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It's time, Gin,” Colin said quietly, squeezing Ginny's right hand. “What's this?”
he asked, as he felt the ring Blaise had placed on her finger.

“Don't ask,” Ginny answered simply. “Where are Luke and Nicole?”

“I had Allen inform Mary and Catherine to bring them in. they should be here - oh, there they
are!”

Ginny turned to where Colin was pointing and a smile lit her face. There was no trace of the
irritation she earlier felt for Luke as she watched her children being led by the hand by their
respective nannies. She met them halfway, Colin behind her.

“There you two are. You ready?”

“I wanna go home and play with my broom,” Luke declared, his nose in the air. “And I hate my
clothes, I look like a penguin.”

Colin swallowed a laugh as Ginny threw him a warning glare.

“You look really good, honey,” Ginny praised, fixing his bow tie. “And besides, if you look, all
the men are wearing the same clothes as you. See?”

Luke's nose didn't even come down a fraction. “We all look like penguins,” he stated
defiantly. “Big penguins, and small penguins. And I itch!”

Ginny sighed and straightened; she pointedly ignored Colin, who was now laughing delightedly
behind her. “This'll only take a few minutes. After that, you can throw your suit into the fire
like you did your other suits before.” She turned her attention to her quiet daughter. “Oh,
darling, you look absolutely divine.”

Nicole smiled prettily. “Look at my shoes, Mommy! I picked them out myself.”

“That's my girl,” Ginny praised, giving her attention to the proffered foot. “Couldn't
have picked a prettier one if I tried.”

Nicole's smile turned up a notch. “Uncle Colin paid for it, of course.”

“Of course,” Ginny said smoothly. “Now we better get up behind your grandpa now. The
ceremony's about to start.” Colin and the two nannies helped her get the two on stage, with
Luke's attention now sufficiently drawn to his gathered uncles on stage.

Ginny prayed some people would have enough sense to wait until the oath taking was over before
making a scene. As she watched her son run to where his Uncle Ron was standing, she knew that it
was finally time to face the music.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Don't tell me part of the necessity for you to be here is to stand at the very front of the
platform?”

Lucius merely smiled at his wife's comment. There was no need for him to reply; as the oath
taking was about to commence in a very few short minutes, he would let that be answer enough for
him. He had already seen Luke and Nicole; very few had bothered to look in their direction, too
occupied with the goings on onstage. But his eyes were fixed on his grandchildren, who were now
slowly making their way up the stage. He chuckled when Luke run across the stage towards his
uncle.

Narcissa looked at her husband, perplexed. “Lucius? What - ?” She looked to the stage to see
what had so transfixed her husband, and gasped.

Lucius knew the instant Narcissa saw their grandchildren. He looked down at his wife, who clung
to his arms as though without him, she would probably have already fallen to the floor on a
crumpled heap. He waited for her to look up at him, not taking his eyes off her face, watching the
varying emotions that were alternately appearing on her beautiful face.

It seemed a lifetime before she finally looked up at him; in truth, it was only about ten
minutes.

“Did you - did you know about this?” Narcissa whispered hoarsely, her eyes shining with unshed
tears.

Lucius nodded; no words were necessary to convey his answer to her question.

“How long?”

Lucius hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “Since the beginning.”

Narcissa took a deep breath as she looked back at the scene on stage. Then her nails dug into
her husband's fine suit.

“I will never forgive you for this, Lucius Malfoy,” she whispered feelingly, her voice breaking,
as a lone tear fell down her face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So Draco.” Blaise sauntered over to where Draco was standing. “Good night so far?”

Draco took his eyes off the stage and fixed his best friend a hard stare. “What do you
think?”

Blaise stood, blocking the stage from Draco's sight. “Oh mate, I always knew you were
oblivious, I just never thought you would take that obliviousness so far as this. Your loss, my
gain, however,” he said, putting a sympathetic hand on Draco's shoulder.

Draco wanted to break his nose. “It's early yet, Blaise; don't be too sure yet.”

Blaise shook his head. “You don't get it, mate. You sealed your fate a long time ago.”
Behind him, he could hear the oath taking start. Good. “I give you fair warning though: You have a
chance to make things right tonight. Just *one* chance. My advice is: Don't waste it.”

Draco frowned. “What the hell are you talking about, Blaise? Can you cut the crap and just get
to the point? I have a powerful headache, and I'm not up to your usual cryptic self.”

Blaise tilted his head to the side and smiled. “See for yourself.” With a flourish, he moved
aside, revealing the scene on stage, where the entire Weasley family was gathered.

Draco scanned the redheads upfront in a bored fashion; there was nothing new there he hadn't
seen before. He was about to ask Blaise what he was referring to when he saw Ginny bend, and when
she straightened, she had a little boy in her arms.

He wasn't too far away that he couldn't see the boy properly; that, and he had perfect
vision. The boy was no more than four years old; he had white blond hair. He couldn't be sure
what color eyes he had, but he would bet the entire contents of the Malfoy vaults that it would be
gray.

Blond hair. Gray eyes.

He turned back to look at Blaise; Blaise was looking at him intensely, every muscle in his body
tensed, prepared for an attack.

“Don't you think he looks just like you?” Blaise said quietly, not breaking eye contact with
Draco. Which was probably a good thing he did, when the punch that connected against his jaw
snapped his head back and made him stagger against the column where Draco was previously
standing.

What do you know? Draco Malfoy was not civil enough to wait until after the oath taking ceremony
to start acting up after all.

******

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth
= Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

-----------

A/N:

We're nearing chapter 18, and I'm afraid after that it might take me some time to
update. I am doing my best to hurry up the chapters, but I have other matters I have to tend to as
well. But I am going to finish this, even if it kills me. Now, on with some answers to question on
the review board:

*english-rose**:* Unfortunately, this is the only story I have had the courage to post
anywhere. My other stories I have simply set aside for now, and working on it when I have the time.
Maybe one of these days I will post those as well here, but til I know for sure that I can finish
them, they're on hold indefinitely. I can say one thing for sure though, if you find Sweet
Bondage good, you'll definitely like The Games People Play (I wrote this ahead of Sweet Bondage
but haven't had time to really get into it as I have SB)

*Alian-Nurai:* I still have a few chapters in mind. I won't say for sure how many
chapters this story will eventually end with, but it will definitely go beyond chapter 20.

*Gin:* Yes, he will find out. And I hope you won't be disappointed by that chapter.

-->



17. And the First Round Goes To....
-----------------------------------



**Chapter 17: And the First Round Goes To….**

Blaise shook his head to try and clear his vision; damn, but Draco had a powerful right hook!
Carefully testing his jaw, he breathed in avid relief when it only felt tender, not broken.
Nevertheless, it hurt like *hell*.

Draco slowly advanced on Blaise, his fists clenched; there was every intention in his eyes to
inflect as much pain on his erstwhile best friend as he possibly could. “You fucking traitor! When
were you going to tell me? *Were* you going to tell me? Do you have any idea what you've
done?” He turned tortured eyes towards the stage, taking in the sight of the little boy who was
practically stealing the show from the new Minister of Magic; it was clear the gathered assembly
did not know what to make of him. But he did, without a shadow of doubt he did. “God, Blaise, why
didn't you tell me?” he said lugubriously.

Blaise snapped out of his preoccupation with his jaw and yanked Draco to the sidelines. Thank
Merlin they were so far out the back that nobody had paid any attention to the little show of
temper Draco had indulged in. He spied a slack-jawed waiter staring at them and revised his
thought: Nobody *important* saw what Draco had done, that is.

“Come with me,” Blaise tersely said, grabbing Draco's right forearm and steering him to a
door he knew was concealed by the floor-to-ceiling draperies. Draco, on impulse, tried to twist
free from his hold; Blaise responded by tightening his hold on his best friend's arm even more.
“Don't even try it, Drake; I work with Potter every day, I even beat him occasionally, so
there's no way in hell you're going to avoid coming with me.” As if to prove his point, he
started marching for the door, with Draco viciously cursing after him, but nevertheless trailing
after his wake; he didn't have much of a choice, it was either go with Blaise or have his
sleeve torn off his arm.

The door opened into a small balcony overlooking a magical view of a courtyard, with several
rose bushes in varying degrees of bloom and color dotting the picturesque landscape, and a gigantic
fountain in the middle with several small animals frolicking in the gushing waters; considering the
Ministry's ballroom was located several feet under the ground, magical took on a new meaning
when one viewed the magnificent vista.

Once past the door, Draco hastily freed himself from Blaise's grip and willed himself to
take control of his raging temper. He gripped the railing of the balcony, blind to the beauty laid
out before him, and started breathing evenly and deeply, willing the voices railing in his head to
go away and let him think.

What had he done? Christ above, *what had he done?*

Blaise leaned on the other side of the railing, watching his best friend try to get back his
mental footing. He didn't envy Draco this situation, but at the same time, he knew that it was
no less than he deserved for being an ass all his life. He didn't know how the night was going
to end, either; Draco and Ginny were two intelligent, stubborn people who needed to have common
sense knocked into them some of the time, and because of that, he feared a battle royale was
inevitable before the night was through.

“Why?”

On hearing Draco's quiet query, Blaise straightened from his contemplation of the man before
him, the same man who had been his constant companion ever since he could remember. Not that
Draco's question came as a surprise; he knew that that would be the first one out of his mouth
once he saw a bit of the life he wasn't a part of with his own eyes, a life he had eschewed,
albeit unknowingly. Yet he, Blaise, also knew that he was not in a position to tell Draco the whys
of it all.

“It wasn't my place to tell you anything about Ginny,” Blaise started, choosing his words
carefully. “I've known you all my life, Draco; there is nothing I wouldn't do for you, you
know that. But this thing between you and Ginny?” Blaise shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry,
Draco, but you screwed up. Big time.” He sighed. “It's been four years, Drake. Do you even
understand just what and how much you've missed out on? And all for what?”

Draco gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to take a swing at Blaise again. “I don't need
the lecture, Blaise. Just tell me why?”

Blaise's eyes flashed in anger. “Very well. It was agreed that no one would breathe a word
of it to anyone outside of her family and the circle; you had to come to a decision about Ginny
without undue influence from any of us. In any case, Lucius made it clear that nothing good would
come of you knowing prematurely.”

Draco turned around so fast even Blaise was impressed with his speed.

“Father? What's he got to do with all this? And what's this circle you're talking
about?”

Blaise shook his head again, his anger ebbing swiftly; he'd said too much already. “It's
not for me to tell you, Drake. Talk to Lucius, he's the only person who can tell you all the
things you want to know, except Ginny of course, but I don't think she'd be too receptive
of you right now.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “I should have known Lucius would be behind all this, he's never
done anything to make my life easy.” He prepared to walk back into the ballroom to confront his
father, but was stopped by Blaise blocking his path. “Get out of my way, Blaise,” he warned, his
tone laden with menace.

“There's a time and a place for everything, Draco,” Blaise said reasonably. “Wait until the
oath taking ceremony is over; you won't be doing your cause any good by barging in there and
confronting your father now. You'll probably be thrown out, and how far will that take you into
finding out what has been taking place behind your back all this years? Use your head, mate; for
once, don't let that temper of yours get the better of you.”

Draco visibly calmed; Blaise was right. If he got thrown out of the Ministry premises, there was
no knowing when he would be able to see his father, especially since he had already conveniently
made plans to move out of the Manor. Lucius was a wily old bastard; he wouldn't put it past him
to hide under a rock just to vex his son.

Blaise knew the minute Draco realized that it would be in his best interest to listen to his
suggestion, and he relaxed somewhat. “Just remember what I told you earlier: You have one chance to
make things right tonight. Be careful what you do from this point on.” He touched his rapidly
swelling jaw and grimaced. “And for the love of God, will you keep your fist to yourself? Had I
known you were so free with your punches, you can be sure I would have kept my distance from you
tonight. Damn, where did you learn to pack a punch like that? You're the last person I would
have credited knowing how to fight the muggle way.”

Draco threw Blaise a menacing look. “You've been avoiding me for nearly three years, Blaise,
a lot can change in a man in a week, let alone three years.”

“Pull the other arm, why don't you,” Blaise said disbelievingly. “If it were anyone but
yourself, I won't have trouble believing the change. But I know you, Drake, you're the most
resistant when it comes to your views about muggles, or anything that is in any way connected to
muggles. And I haven't been avoiding you; it's not my fault I actually have a job that
requires me to work? I may be rich, but I've found out it's much nicer making my way rather
than living off what I got from my father.” He touched his aching jaw and cursed loudly. “Damn it!
Potter would probably kiss you once he sees this handiwork of yours. Where did you pick this skill
up?”

Draco smirked as he looked at his handiwork. “The only thing constant in life is change, Blaise.
Even rock formations change with time.”

Blaise sighed and shook his head in capitulation. “Which means that you're not going to tell
me anything. Fine, fine, have it your way. But I still believe you can't teach old dogs new
tricks, you can only replace the dog. And since I know it's really you in there, I'll cease
my questions. For now,” he warned. “I *will* have my answers eventually, never you doubt
that.” He took out his wand and quickly mumbled a healing spell on his jaw.

“That's pretty useful,” Draco observed, watching the swelling of Blaise's jaw go down
and eventually disappear. “I don't know why you were even complaining about that little tap I
gave you when you knew how to just spell it away.”

“Just because I've learned a few healing charms doesn't mean I thrive on having my face
bashed in,” Blaise said sardonically. “This being an Auror thing does have its advantages.” He put
his wand away and tilted his head to the door. “You ready to go back inside? The ceremony's
probably nearing its end. You wouldn't want to miss Ginny and your father.”

Draco was quiet for a moment; he looked at Blaise with a contemplative look on his face. “Why
are you doing this, Blaise?” he finally asked, confusion clearly written on his face. “You and
Ginny are supposed to be engaged; I've never pegged you as the martyr type.”

Blaise avoided meeting Draco's eyes. “Well, about that - it's a bit complicated.
Let's just say I have my reasons,” he said evasively. “You'll know them when the time is
right. But right now, we have to go inside so you can finally meet that spawn of yours.”

A look of wonder dawned on Draco's face. “I have a son,” he said quietly, his eyes unseeing.
“I'm a father.”

“Yes, yes, you're a father,” Blaise said impatiently. “I've known you were one ages ago.
Now let's go.”

The look of wonder was rapidly replaced with one of fear. “W-what if I turn out like my father,
Blaise? What if my son also ends up hating me? What do I do?”

“That's looking into the future a bit prematurely, don't you think?” Blaise asked wryly,
resigned to the fact that they would not be getting back inside anytime soon. “You're not even
sure if they'll want to have anything to do with you at this point yet.”

It was the wrong thing to say, Blaise realized that the instant Draco paled so much he feared
his best friend was going to drop in a dead faint in front of him.

“Look, Drake,” Blaise said quickly, trying to cover for his thoughtless remark. “You'll
never know for sure how Ginny will react if you don't go inside. *Now*. All this
suppositions are not going to do you any good.”

“But you've raised a good point, Blaise. What if she refuses to let me see my son? What if I
never get to find out whether I'd make a good or a bad father? What reassurance do I have that
if I go back inside, I won't only be subjecting myself to disappointment? What - ”

“Draco, stop! Stop thinking that way.” Blaise run a weary hand through his jet-black hair and
turned back to look over the courtyard. How could he explain it to Draco without revealing
anything?

Finally, he looked his friend over his shoulder and posed his own questions. “Are you really
willing to let your insecurities rule your life forever, Drake? What would you gain by avoiding
what's out there and staying here, thinking up situations you have no way of knowing whether
they could ever happen? Won't you rather go out there and find out once and for all whether you
should go and AK yourself several times over, or whether you should start making up for all the bad
choices you're so fond of making. You've seen your son.” He slowly made his way over to his
still friend. They were even in height, so they could look each other squarely in the eye; Blaise
held Draco's gaze and went for the kill. “You'll have your hands full with that little guy
of yours, you know. I don't know exactly what to call him; surely he can't be human for all
the trouble he's put everyone through. He needs a father, Drake,” he finished, laying a hand on
Draco's left shoulder and squeezing for emphasis.

Draco pushed back all his apprehensions and nodded. Blaise was right, he had to face Ginny
eventually, and there was no time like the present. And if all else failed, he could always act
like his father; that never failed to intimidate anybody into doing what he wanted.

“You're right, of course. I have every right to see my son,” he stated, injecting as much
pompousness in his voice, an emotion he was far from feeling. But he was a Malfoy, and as much as
the name brought chills to the very marrow of his being, it could be depended upon in times when
arrogance was the only thing he had going for him. “Ginny can't refuse me if I insist on seeing
my son.”

Blaise groaned. “Don't be an ass, Drake, I mean that. You can't fuck with Ginny, not
about this. You have to tread carefully, or I can assure you now, you'll be regretting it for
the rest of your short life. I say short because there will be a number of people out there
who'll happily tear your flesh from your body, and make you eat it!” he explained, giving Draco
a little shake just in case he didn't think he'd been talking literally.

Draco didn't say anything, he just turned on his heel and marched back inside the Ministry
ballroom.

After wanting Draco to get back inside for the past few minutes, Blaise was left looking at his
best friend's back. “God help us all,” he muttered under his breath, before going after the
stiff form of Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“*I, Arthur Weasley* - ”

“I heard about what happened,” Ron said quietly, looking surreptitiously past Ginny to Bill, who
was standing as stiff as a poker immediately behind and to the side of their father. “And from the
looks of our dear brother over there, I'd say he's not of a mind to put this behind him
anytime soon.”

“ *- do hereby solemnly swear, to* *faithfully execute the Office of the Minister of
Magic.”*

Ginny wanted so much to make a face, but if she did, it would surely be noticed by the many
pairs of eyes that were already trained on them. “Keep quiet, you; I don't want to talk about
it,” she whispered, her lips barely moving. She adjusted her hold on Nicole, who, unlike her
brother who was forever uncomfortable in his own skin and was constantly in motion, was serenely
observing her grandfather as he made his oath of office. Ron dare not put down the little boy in
case he started running amok on stage. Ginny was fairly certain that he regretted agreeing to hold
Luke instead of Nicole, who was now alternately squirming and making faces at his uncle, and for
all that Ginny loved her son, there was no way she could manage to keep his energy in check.

“*As Minister, I will discharge my duties and perform my functions to the best of my ability,
faithfully and in accordance with the laws of the Wizarding world.”*

And it looked as though Ron himself had reached the end of his ropes. “Hey, little man, want to
make a deal?” Ginny heard him say softly as he discreetly turned to keep the both of them averted
from the crowd.

Ginny winced when she heard Luke loudly say yes, accompanied by a vigorous nodding of the head.
Ron didn't even bother being discreet anymore when he moved behind the ranks of the other
Weasleys on stage; his mother was going to have his head if he could not control his nephew's
exuberance at that crucial point of the program. Already, several disapproving looks had been
thrown their way from various members of the Board of Governors, and it was all she could do to
keep the sickly sweet smile fixed on her face.

Ginny focused her attention on her father, keeping her eyes on the ceremony. It wasn't easy;
she had immediately seen Lucius and Narcissa standing at the forefront of the crowd, and by the
looks of Narcissa, Lucius was in for a very rough night himself. Of Draco she had not been able to
catch a glimpse of anywhere in the room when the ceremony had started. Except for that brief
interlude earlier in the night, their paths had not crossed again. She didn't know whether she
ought to be glad or sorry about that, and she castigated herself for it. She had wanted to feel
nothing towards him when she saw him again; she had told herself many times over that she
shouldn't feel anything for him, but as before, it was one thing to say something, and quite
another to actually follow through on that. She dearly wished that when the time came, Draco would
be true to form and act like a braying donkey; it was easier to harden her resolve against him when
he was like that.

“*So Merlin help me.”*

Ron returned by her side just as their father finished his oath. “What did you bargain him
with?”

“Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Gin,” Ron answered, juggling Luke over to his
left arm. “Your boy and I have reached an understanding.” He looked meaningfully at the blond boy
and Ginny saw him barely suppress the grimace from materializing on his face. “What's wrong
with you anyway, that there's not even a trace of the Weasley in this kid of yours.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you, the new Minister of Magic - Mr. Arthur
Weasley!”

Ginny joined in the round of applause that immediately followed the end of the oath taking. She
had mastered ignoring Ron's grumbles over the years; she would be more likely to worry if he
suddenly started praising her children's looks. She knew that despite Luke and Nicole's
decidedly Malfoyish features, he loved the duo like they were his own and knowing that made it
easier to dismiss his complaints.

She beamed proudly at her father who was being congratulated by the board of Governors that had
converged in on him as soon as the ceremony was over. Looking at him now, Ginny only saw the man
who was her father, not the successful politician that so many now saw him as. She wasn't naïve
enough to believe that more than half of the attendees were there because they were happy for
Arthur Weasley; oddly enough, she had gleaned enough understanding over the years not to condemn
them for their capriciousness. She knew that were the last war's outcome been different, it was
very likely that these same people would probably also be cheering for Voldemort. Such was the
foibles of war, and their bigotry was something she realized was an essential component of their
life, the same one that helped them survive.

Ron nudged her none too gently on the arm. “C'mon, time to congratulate the new Minister.”
He grinned cheekily at his sister and adjusted his hold on Luke once again. “Let's get this
over with so we can finally leave. I don't think I can take much more of this, and your son is
getting heavier by the minute.”

Ginny giggled. She was about to reply when she felt a tug on her hand. When she looked down, she
was surprised at the thoughtful look on her daughter's face.

Bending down so she was eye to eye with the little girl, she lovingly smoothed her long blonde
hair over her shoulders. “What is it, honey?”

Nicole turned questioning eyes to her mother. “Why is that woman with Grandpa crying,
Mommy?”

Without even looking, Ginny knew immediately whom Nicole was referring to. Clearing her throat
uncomfortably, she gave her daughter a small smile. “Don't mind them, sweetheart, I'm sure
your grandfather will tell you himself. After the party,” she added hastily when Nicole opened her
mouth to insist on an answer. She straightened and grasped her hand again. “Now let's go give
your grandpa a big hug.” She didn't give the little girl time to resume her line of questioning
again, and instead brought her over to where her father was receiving congratulatory handshakes and
pats on the back by her brothers.

“Congratulations, daddy,” Ginny said softly when her turn came, throwing her arms around her
father's neck. “I'm so proud of you,” she whispered beside his ear.

“Thank you, Gin-girl,” Arthur Weasley replied, his arms tightening around her slim frame.

Ginny pulled back and grinned up at her father. “Who would've thought the Muggle loving
Arthur Weasley would be the next Minister of Magic, huh?” Ginny grinned at her father, who had
wrapped his arms around her mother's waist again. “If Voldemort were alive today, he'd
probably do Harry a big favor and Avada himself in horror.”

Molly Weasley gasped. “That's not funny, Ginny!”

Ginny merely laughed off her mother's reprimand. “I think there's one more who'd
like to congratulate the man of the moment.”

Arthur bent over by the waist and moved his face closer to his granddaughter's. “My,
don't you look just like a princess tonight,” he said, smiling at the beaming girl before
him.

Nicole wrapped her arms around her grandfather's neck, much like the way her mom had just a
minute earlier. “I love you, Grampa.”

Arthur's smile was serene. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Me next! Me next!”

Ginny grabbed Nicole back just in time as her son barreled his way towards his grandfather and
hurled himself into his arms. Arthur staggered back on impact, nearly falling over on his
behind.

“Whoa there, squirt!” Arthur said, laughing delightedly when Luke clung to him and he had no
choice but to carry him when he straightened up again.

“Ron! I thought I told you not to let go of him!” Ginny hissed at her brother.

“You try carrying him around for thirty minutes,” he grumbled, “let's see how far before
your body just gives.” Identical scowls were leveled his way and Ron raised placating hands to ward
off both his mother and his sister. “He just wanted to go to dad, okay, seeing as how his sister
was there first. You know how he gets when he's not first in line.”

“Uncle Ron promised to take me for a ride on his broom, Grampa. He said after the party we could
go flying on his broom!”

Arthur looked briefly at Ginny. “Maybe not right after, squirt.” He noticed his chief of staff
motioning at him and nodded once in acknowledgement. “Now why don't you go with your Mum for a
spell? Grampa has to do something first.”

Luke eagerly held his arms out to his mother, who dutifully took him. She, too, had noticed the
little signal Mr. Smithers had sent her father and understood it to mean that it was time for his
first speech as the newly elected British Minister of Magic.

Which meant it was time to get out of the limelight.

Sending Ron the sign they'd agreed upon, they immediately moved to the backstage and exited
through there. She and Ron were just passing through the exit door when they heard their father
begin his speech.

“Minister Scrimgeour, Professor Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, the governing bodies of the
International Confederation of Wizards, the members of the Wizengamot, members of the board of
Governors, fellow citizens:

“Today, we are entering a new era. I am grateful for the great honor you have bestowed upon me
upon my election as the new Minister for Magic. In all my years, never have I dreamed that I would
one day be standing before all of you as your Minister: I am a simple man, with simple needs, and I
have tried to be a good denizen of our small corner of the world as best I can. The call to office
was something that I would have preferred not to pay attention to, but fate has a way of placing
you exactly where you ought to be. So, here I am now, before you.”

Arthur took a breath and looked at his wife; Molly smiled and nodded in encouragement. He looked
back down at the prepared speech laid out in front of him.

“The Wizarding world today has gone through more difficult times than ever recorded in history:
Most of us here are descendants of the first war, and all of us gathered today have felt the
tyranny of the most recent Dark Lord. Some might be luckier than others, those fortunate
individuals who were spared death and destruction in their families, but as a whole, our community
was left reeling with the devastation that was Voldemort. We have all avoided saying his name out
loud, and I can understand the fear that rises in some whenever the Dark Lord's name is
mentioned; after all, it is hard to get over an emotion that had become the norm for more years
than I care to remember. But we have to ask ourselves: Why?

“Why are we perpetuating the unreasonable feeling of fear when it is a known fact that in doing
so, we are giving somebody power over ourselves? Why, even now, do we still cower at the mention of
his name? Hasn't he been dead for some years already?

“Ladies and gentlemen, pardon me if you believe me to be severely lacking tact by tackling this
issue now, but I believe that before I can begin my tenure as Minister for Magic, it is only right
that all slates be wiped clean. I do not believe in harboring anger, hate, or ill-will, against
those we perceive to be undeserving to be here right now. Because if we do so, we would be no
better than Voldemort himself. We are made vulnerable by our inherent belief of what is right and
wrong, of what should and shouldn't be, when what we should be considering is modifying our
ideologies, ideologies that may have unknowingly been feeding the animosity in our hearts. What is
right for one might not necessarily be so acceptable to another, and so a middle ground must be
reached.”

Arthur knew not very many would be pleased by his speech; even his chief of staff had tried to
convince him to leave out half of what he wanted to say. But all of them had been skirting around
the issue for too long. It was time to finally take a stand and declare once and for all that it
was time to embrace change, and accept that there was no changing the past; they could only look
toward the future and try not to repeat the mistakes that had been committed by their forefathers,
and by themselves.

Bracing his elbows on the podium, he leaned slightly forward to place emphasis on his next
words.

“The issue of race has long been a bone of contention among us, and it is high time that we
accept the inevitability of the evolving world, instead of fighting over it. Bigotry will take us
nowhere; it is only fitting that each and every one of us realizes that now before another Dark
Lord emerges to cause death and destruction once again. We won our battles against two Dark Wizards
already; we might not be so lucky the third time around.”

Arthur paused, and let the enormity of what he said settle in each and every one present in the
ballroom before he resumed speaking.

“I do not mean to speak only of gloom, ladies and gentlemen, and since I have already addressed
that unpleasant topic, it is now time to look forward to our future. Like I said, I am a simple
man, and I believe with everything in me that we as a nation have a brilliant future before us. We
have already confronted what could possibly be the greatest challenge any ordinary witch or wizard
could possibly face in a lifetime. And triumphed. Through hard work and determination, not to
mention an inordinate amount of skill and luck, we have been assured a new tomorrow. My predecessor
is a great man who did all he could to win the war for us, but without the help of several key
figures, the opposite of what we are currently enjoying could have very well happened. No one
person can suppress tyranny; with cooperation and trust, anything is within our reach.”

He smiled at the quiet congregation that was riveted by his words.

“I am here now to ensure that we will remain free from oppression, and the only way to do that
is by working hand in hand. No one's hand is more important than the other, bear that in mind.
We have all seen the devastation differing factions could bring so we must all strive to stay as
one nation, as one community. That task might seem insurmountable, but nothing is impossible when
you, *we*, believe.

“My fellow citizens, in your hands will rest the success or failure of our world. I am only a
public servant, subject to your will. Yes, I will be the captain stirring our course, but only
through unity could we achieve even greater success. The best hope we have of retaining the peace
is by ensuring the preservation of freedom among every magical folk, be they pureblood, half-blood
or squibs.

“And finally, I leave you with a last message. To borrow what my son's good friend once
said: The difficulty of the task is no excuse for avoiding it. Let us begin anew—remembering on
both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let
us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.”

Arthur paused; his eyes landed on Hermione whose face was wreathed with a huge smile. Her
husband was standing beside her, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. Clearly, Hermione was
overjoyed that the new Minister for Magic had used one of her quotes.

Arthur nodded to the assembly. “Thank you.”

The applause was deafening; as every witch and wizard felt empowered by their Minister's
words, looking up at the humble man before them, none paid attention to the couple who was slowly
edging their way towards the back of the stage and eventually disappearing inside a door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I will never forgive you for this, do you understand me? Never, Lucius!”

“You're elucidating with crystal clarity, my dear,” Lucius said dryly, slowly steering his
wife away from the cheering crowd.

Narcissa's head snapped up and she glared balefully at her husband. “Are you mocking me,
Lucius? I am about this close to hexing your bits off and you're *mocking* me?”

“I wouldn't be so churlish as to do that, Cissa,” Lucius said smoothly, keeping his arms
around his wife just in case she made good on her promise. “I was just pointing out that I could
hear you perfectly well. In fact, I rather believe that they could hear you even way across the
room and despite all this noise.”

Narcissa stiffened in anger, refusing to budge. “You *are* mocking me!” she hissed
furiously. “I swear, Lucius, when we're alone, I'm going to make you wish you were never
born!”

“That I have no doubt, my dear.” He sighed feelingly. “But until such a time that we're
alone, could we please get a move on? There are people waiting for us.”

“What people? Where are you taking me?” Narcissa demanded. “And I want to know right now where
that little boy and girl went off to. I can't believe you did this to me. I thought you've
changed, Lucius; you made me believe you've changed. Then you go ahead and do this!”

Lucius resisted the urge to just pick up his angry wife and march out of there; it wouldn't
do to make a scene with polite, and not so polite, society in attendance.

“I know, and I'm truly sorry, Cissa, but it had to be done. I never wanted to keep something
as important as this from you, but there was no other way.”

Narcissa sniffled. “Why did you even do it in the first place?” she asked, letting Lucius propel
them forward once again. “You said you loved me, then you do this? Can't you really be
satisfied with just one, Lucius?”

Lucius stopped walking in confusion. “What are you talking about, Narcissa?”

“What do you think I'm talking about?” she cried, glaring at her husband. “I'm talking
about your two bastards, that's what I'm talking about!”

“My - *what?* What the fuck are you blathering on about, woman? What bastards?”

Narcissa's eyes flashed dangerously. “Don't you dare try and deny it now! You just
admitted your sin not a minute ago.”

Understanding dawned on Lucius and his eyes grew round as saucers. “You think - you believe Luke
and Nicole - ” The belligerence in his wife's stance was all the answer that Lucius needed. Jaw
tightening in fury, he grabbed his wife's hand, unmindful of her gasp of dismay, and dragged
her the rest of the way to the waiting room at the back of the stage. With his free hand, he opened
the door without knocking and unceremoniously pushed Narcissa inside the cozy room, startling the
occupants inside.

Ginny was surprised to see the unflappable Narcissa Malfoy come flying into the room with Lucius
behind her looking very much like the angel of death. Even the twins hesitated in greeting their
grandfather at the current mood he was so obviously in.

Narcissa stumbled inside the room and saw immediately that the little boy and girl she'd
seen earlier were inside, with who must be their mother. And from the looks of her, a Weasley,
without a doubt.

She turned her back on their audience and prepared to blast her husband for insulting her in
this manner. But before she could get a word in edgewise, Lucius turned her right back around by
grabbing her shoulders and pushing her forward, making her look at the evidence of his
unfaithfulness once again. She then felt his face right next to her own, as in a scathing voice, he
introduced her to the little boy and girl.

“Luke, Nicole, I would like for you to meet my wife, Narcissa. Narcissa, meet - *your
grandchildren*!”

It didn't immediately register to her what Lucius said; when it did, all except Lucius were
surprised when she crumpled to the floor in a faint.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I don't see them anywhere,” Draco said impatiently, scanning the crowd once again for any
sign of either Ginny or his parents. He had been looking for the past several minutes with no luck.
When he'd entered the ballroom after his little chat with Blaise, Arthur Weasley had been in
the middle of his speech. Blaise had immediately dragged him to the buffet table, well away from
the other guests. When the new minister's speech had concluded, there had been too many bodies
that blocked his way and sight so that he'd completely lost sight of his parents.

Blaise kept his expression innocent. “They're here somewhere; we've already ascertained
that they haven't gone out. Don't worry too much, Drake, you'll be meeting your boy
before the night is through.” He handed a piece of hors d'oeuvres to the impatient man standing
beside him. “Try this shrimp, it's really good.”

Draco threw his best friend an irritated look. “I can't eat now, what's wrong with
you?”

Blaise shrugged and popped the food into his mouth. “Don't see what else you can do without
your prey in sight. I, for one, am going to make sure I taste all of this delicious and free food.
I say, if there's one thing the muggles should be proud of, it's their food,” he stated
decisively, popping another morsel into his mouth.

Draco sneered at him. “Since when have you morphed into another Weasley?”

“Since four years ago.”

Draco turned and faced the newcomer; there was no way he could forget the voice of his arch
nemesis in Hogwarts, and beyond.

“Potter,” he said curtly.

“Malfoy,” Harry said just as curtly, then the staring down contest commenced.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband and Malfoy's adolescent behavior. “Oh, for the -
will you just stop it, you two! You're not still twelve, you know. Blaise, help me out
here.”

Blaise nodded once and said `in a minute' before continuing his attack on the buffet table,
ignoring the simmering trouble between his partner and his best friend and cousin.

“Oh for the love of Merlin - you're not going to run out of food, you pillock!” Hermione
said, coming forward and tugging at his right ear. “I'll cook you enough of that stuff
you'll have trouble getting up off you're arse for a week! Now diffuse this right now.”

Draco was stunned at how freely Hermione touched Blaise. And he was letting her!

“What's this? What's going on?” he couldn't help but ask. “Why do you let her do
that to you, Zabini?”

“Because she thinks she's seven feet tall with the wing span as wide as a quidditch field,”
Blaise mumbled, rubbing his sore ear gingerly.

Hermione snorted. “Hardly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn't be treating you like a
child if you'd only act your age and not like orphan Annie who hasn't eaten for a week.
Now, what are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to be taking him to
you-know-where.”

“I still have ten minutes,” Blaise complained. “And besides, I'm sure Lucius and Narcissa
won't appreciate the interruption. Let's give them just a few more minutes, and then
we'll be right there.”

Draco was becoming more confused. Hermione and Blaise were talking in riddles and Potter was
just standing there, now glaring at Blaise. If he didn't know better, he'd say the
four-eyed freak was jealous of his best friend's proximity to his wife, which was absurd since
Blaise would never lower himself so much as to actually conduct an affair with a mudblood. That one
time he had to physically remove his best friend from on top of said witch in the room of
requirement back in their seventh year did not count, not at all; Blaise was just suffering from
temporary insanity back then, and just a touch of what Dianne called post-traumatic stress
disorder: Snape had given him a less than satisfactory grades in class and he went bonkers. But the
way the two interacted with each other now was so - *disconcerting* - that he couldn't
help blurting out, “Are you two having an affair?”

Three persons gaped at him, before those same numbers burst out laughing. Hermione hung on to
her husband as she laughed, and Harry's glasses were getting sopping wet with his tears. Blaise
was also guffawing, clutching his stomach helplessly.

“Ooh, gods, that was a good one if I do say so myself,” Blaise proclaimed when he was finally
able to form a coherent sentence without breaking into another laughing fit. “Thanks, mate.”

“You're quite welcome,” Draco said dryly, nodding his head imperiously. “If you can now
conjure up some semblance of intelligent thought in that thick head of yours, then would you please
explain what the hell it is you`re playing at? Why do I get the feeling that the three of you are
in some sort of twisted relationship?”

Harry sobered up so fast it was as though a bucket of ice-cold water had just been dumped over
his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. If anyone here has a cemetery-full of skeletons
in their closet, look in the mirror and wave!” Harry spat, hostility pouring out of every pore in
his body.

“Back up there, Drake,” Blaise cautioned Draco when he saw his hands clenching into fists.
“It's not what you think. You've been gone so long that things around you have changed, is
all. No need putting meaning to actions where there's none at all.”

Hermione sighed impatiently. “Why are we wasting time here? It's not as though this
discussion can't wait until later. C'mon, Harry, let it go,” she said quietly to the tense
man beside her, squeezing his right arm encouragingly. “It's time.”

Harry didn't immediately concede; he didn't appreciate people questioning his wife's
closeness with another man, granted that other man had been someone she had once been involved with
before. It had taken some time for him to accept that Hermione considered Blaise to be one of her
closest confidants, and there was nothing he could do to stop her from befriending the former
Slytherin. He had already resigned himself to their odd relationship, considering that he and
Blaise were partners in crime, so to speak, and both often had to work alongside Hermione in the
performance of their duties. But for someone like Draco Malfoy, whose sins were as diverse as
Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, all of his aggression against the implied relationship
between his wife and Blaise had a tendency to rear its ugly head.

“Harry?”

Harry forced himself to relax; Ginny would never forgive him if he caused a scene tonight of all
nights. And neither would Hermione, for that matter.

“Right then,” he said after giving Malfoy one last malevolent look. “Let's go.”

Harry, Hermione and Blaise, who had blessedly kept silent during the whole glaring contest
between his best friend and his partner but who had not let go of Draco for fear he would go to
town with his fist again, started walking away from him. Draco, for his part, didn't know
whether he should follow them or try and locate his parents or Ginny on his own.

Blaise soon realized that Draco had not moved an inch from the buffet table, and turned back
with raised brows at him. “You coming?”

“Coming where?” Draco asked quickly, suspiciously.

“I thought you wanted to speak to Ginny. Have you changed your mind all of a sudden?”

He was beside Blaise in a flash, who quirked his lips in amusement. “That was fast.”

“Shut up,” Draco grumbled. “Lead on.”

With a chuckle, Blaise followed Harry and Hermione, with Draco closely on his heels. Blaise knew
Draco was used to being the leader of the pack, and being relegated to the very back of the line
now would not sit well with him. But he also knew that what Draco hated most was to be left out in
the dark, especially with something that could affect him personally. And even if it killed him, he
would follow Harry Potter to the very ends of the earth if it could get him what he wanted in the
end.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What's wrong with her, Lucius?” Ginny asked, hurrying forward to help the unconscious witch
into one of the plush cushions with her brother's assistance.

Lucius angrily crossed his arms and glared at his wife. He was furious, *absolutely* livid,
and he wasn't so sure that if he touched Narcissa right then, it would be so he could strangle
her, rather than help her. Nothing anybody had ever said or done to him before had made him feel
the terrible rage he was currently nursing inside of him. He knew part of the reason why he was so
angry was because he was disappointed at Narcissa, but goddamnit, she should have known better!
Hadn't he adequately shown that there was nobody else for him but her for more than a decade
now? Was she constantly expecting him to pick up his old habits again then? He just didn't know
anymore.

“Lucius, help us out here!” Ginny grunted, as she and her brother struggled with the still form
of Narcissa Malfoy.

“Where are your wands, anyway?” Lucius demanded, as he reluctantly pulled out his wand, and cast
an enervate charm on his wife.

As Narcissa started stirring, Ginny straightened and smoothed out her hair and dress. “I
don't exactly have space for a secret compartment on this dress, you know,” she answered,
executing a small curtsy, her thumb and index finger on both hands daintily lifting the long skirt
of her gown off the floor and out of the way of her stilettos. “And breaking my wand in two just so
I could fit them in my purse would be defeating the purpose, don't you think?”

Lucius looked pointedly at Ron, who backed away, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Don't
look at me. No wands if you're within five feet of the Minister unless you're on guard duty
or an Auror, remember? And may I point out that there was no exception to that rule? I don't
know why you have yours with you; I'm sure the Auror details would be happy to ask you about
that.”

“Shh, Ron, she's coming around.”

Ginny watched as the blonde woman slowly regain her wits. For a moment, she seemed to be
confused as to why she was reclining on a sofa, and unfamiliar people were around her. Slowly, she
sat up. Then, her eyes landed on Lucius and everything came back to her at once. Her eyes
immediately moved to the twins, who were sitting side-by-side watching the adults deal with each
other with curious eyes, and to Ginny's dismay, she burst into tears.

Ginny didn't know what to do: What do you do when the grandmother of your children is crying
her heart out in front of you? She wanted to comfort Narcissa, but she wasn't sure if the older
woman would appreciate her gesture, considering they hadn't been officially introduced yet. She
only had basic knowledge of Narcissa, and she didn't want her children to see their grandmother
rebuff their mother's advances; she wanted to avoid that from happening at all cost.

Making up her mind, and since it didn't look as though Lucius had any intention of
comforting his own wife, Ginny tentatively started patting the distressed woman's back,
muttering `There, there'. She felt like an idiot; she didn't know what was wrong with
Narcissa. It couldn't be because of the twins; her reaction to them was too extreme, and Lucius
looked too forbidding to be thinking of clarifying the whole crying fit either. Ron, well, Ron had
fled at the first sign of Narcissa's breakdown, leaving her to fend off for herself. Really,
men were such useless creatures 50 percent of the time.

“Mommy, who is she?”

Ginny didn't even notice when Nicole had come up to her, but at the sound of her
daughter's voice, she was at a loss as to what to say to her. Was she supposed to just blurt
out that the hysterical woman leaking like a rusted out faucet was her grandmother? That
wouldn't go over very well, she knew, and the last thing she wanted was for her children to be
wary of their grandmother's sanity.

She needn't have worried about what to say to Nicole; Narcissa effectively took care of that
herself by rounding on Lucius, her face red in fury, her misery all but forgotten as she unleashed
the furies of hell on her obstinate husband.

“You didn't even tell them about me?” Narcissa spat, standing up so quickly that Ginny fell
back on the cushions in surprise. “The least you could have done was tell them I existed even if
you were too cowardly to tell *me* about them! What were you thinking!”

Ginny cringed and hastily drew Luke and Nicole from the warring couple. She had to hand it to
Narcissa; she might be comparatively small, but she had gargantuan courage. Aside from herself, she
didn't know very many witch or wizard who would be stupid enough to provoke the former Death
Eater.

“You changed your tune fast enough!” Lucius snarled, looking down at his wife, trying to
intimidate her with his height and brawn. “Not two minutes ago, you were accusing me of fathering
them! Now you're suddenly doing an about face and biting my head off while calling them
*you're* grandchildren?!”

Narcissa stood her ground, her small fists clenched at her side. “What was I supposed to think?”
she hissed. “I suddenly see two small strangers looking remarkably like you - you tell me what I
was supposed to think! My God, could you really blame me for thinking the worst? You're not
exactly the poster child of fidelity, you know!”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his wife; a lesser mortal would have started cowering at the sight
of that, but Narcissa only raised her chin belligerently in defiance. “You should have known
better, that's what! I have never done anything I should be ashamed of where you're
concerned, Cissa, and you know that. You knew I would never do that to you again.”

Narcissa's lips trembled all of a sudden, and she backed away from her husband. “No, you
haven't,” she said softly, her voice breaking, “but you doing that would probably be a whole
lot better than this. You kept them from me, Lucius. Why?”

All Lucius' anger simmered off at his wife's desolate expression. He had forgotten, just
for a short moment, that yes, he *had* kept the knowledge of their grandchildren from his
wife. He had welcomed his anger as a way of possibly excusing what he had done, no matter how
crucial the reason behind his actions. He knew this was how Narcissa would react; he knew how much
she longed to have children, past tense, and had been severely disappointed when she had failed to
have another one after getting pregnant with Draco so quickly. She didn't understand what was
wrong with her, to have failed so miserably at what she considered to be the most important duty of
a wife to one's husband. It never even occurred to her that it could very well be Lucius who
was at fault in their inability to have more than one child.

Now, she was suddenly thrust into the reality of grandchildren. *Past tense.* It didn't
matter that the children didn't come from her own body, they were a part of her son, and so
they were also a part of her. And woe betide anyone who kept her from what she had wanted most in
the world, aside from her husband's love, even if that anyone *was* her husband.

Lucius looked past his wife, to Ginny, who was looking at them with wide, incredulous eyes.
Sighing, he run weary hands through his immaculate hair, ruffling the flaxen mane in his
agitation.

“Look, Cissa,” he said, his voice worn out, “I'm sorry for keeping something as precious as
this from you. But you have to trust me that I did it for all our sakes. No, no, listen to me,” he
implored, when Narcissa started sputtering in outrage. “If I had told you about our grandchildren,
you would have wanted to keep them. And if you had kept them, Draco would have known about them.
And the last thing Luke and Nicole needed was for their father to know about them. The absolute
last.”

Narcissa was looking fit to burst in her agitation. “I'm not a dog, Lucius, stop throwing me
a bone!” she spat angrily, her voice hardening once again. “That's the only justification you
have? My God, even Draco doesn't know? How could he not know? He was the one who had sexual
intercourse with my grandchildren's mother! And while we're on the subject, I will tan his
backside for doing that outside of marriage!” Narcissa seethed and started pacing. Abruptly, she
halted in front of her husband, and thrust her face up to his. “And of course I would have kept
them! I would have shouted from the rooftops that I had grandchildren! Only. You. Kept. Them. From.
Me!” She emphasized each word by poking a finger at her husband's chest.

Lucius sighed and grasped Narcissa's hand. “My point exactly. Cissa, if Draco had known, do
you really think we would have been able to keep our grandchildren for long? You know what our son
is like. I did what I thought was best for everyone.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed
her knuckles. “What's more important? That you had not known them for only four years, or the
fact that you can now spend all the time in the world with them from this moment on?” He lowered
his head and whispered in her ear, “And you haven't even bothered introducing yourself to them.
All they see is a crazed, but extremely beautiful witch, quarreling with their grandfather.”

The distraction worked; Narcissa gasped and turned around right away. True enough, the little
boy and girl were eyeing her warily. Her lips trembled once again as she looked at them. “How could
Draco not have known?” she whispered forlornly. “Surely the birth of one is difficult enough to
conceal; giving birth to a second one should be even harder. And they don't look as though
there's a year's difference in their age.”

Lucius laid his hands on Narcissa's shoulder and gently pushed her forward. “Try a few
minutes,” he said quietly before stopping two feet from Ginny and the twins. “Narcissa, this is
Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne. They're twins.” He nodded when she looked up at him in surprise.
“Twins are quite common in the Weasley family.” He looked down at the twins and moved from behind
his wife to kneel down in front of them. Luke and Nicole immediately moved into his arms, but they
were also looking shyly up beneath their lashes at the trembling woman their grandfather obviously
adored.

Luke immediately leaned and whispered to him, “Who is she, Grandpa?”

Lucius answered just as quietly. “Like I said, she's your grandmother.”

“Oh.” Luke looked at his twin, who hadn't taken her eyes off of their supposed grandmother.
He looked back at his grandfather. “Like Gramma Molly?” he clarified, not bothering to whisper
anymore.

“Yes,” Lucius answered, nodding. “Would you like to meet her? How about you sweetheart?” he
asked, turning to the ever quiet Nicole. “Would you like to meet your grandmother?” When both twins
looked at him with his own eyes, then nodded slowly, he picked them both up and turned to his
wife.

Narcissa couldn't take her eyes off of them; they were so beautiful. Luke looked so much
like Draco that it was difficult for her to tear her gaze away from him to look at Nicole. The
little girl had the Malfoy genes down pat, but she couldn't be sure who she had taken her looks
from. She didn't look anywhere like her mother, which was a shame since that woman was quite
beautiful, and she couldn't say for sure that she resembled her twin except for her coloring.
No matter; they were her grandchildren, she knew that now without a doubt.

“Can I?” Narcissa asked, coming forward and holding out her arms to Nicole. Nicole looked at her
grandfather first before moving from his arms to hers; she was curious about this woman that was
her grandma, and she displayed her curiosity by taking Narcissa's face with her small hands and
keeping it still so she could examine her. Finally, satisfied with what she had seen, she turned
and smiled at her grandfather.

“She's very pretty, grandpa.”

Narcissa could not contain herself; she started bawling again, burying her face into
Nicole's hair. Nicole didn't seem to mind, as she started caressing the crying woman's
hair, much like her mother liked to do with hers when she was upset.

Lucius was happy to see that the highly observant and cautious Nicole had taken to Narcissa
right away; that was one obstacle out of the way. He knew that once Luke saw his sister showing
partiality to anyone, he would also want to be part of that inner circle. He immediately tightened
his hold on the boy when he started struggling in his arms.

“I want her too, grandpa. Let me go to Nikki!”

Lucius winced when Luke's knees hit his midsection in his eagerness to get away from him.
“No, Luke, let's wait for your grandmother to settle first. She can't take the both of you
at once.”

Luke pouted and did not let up on his struggling. Since Narcissa was still not quite herself,
Lucius did not give in to his demands.

“Luke, stop that. You'll have your turn,” Ginny gently admonished her son, giving him a
no-nonsense look.

“But Mommy - !”

“No buts, mister. If you don't stop that right now, you won't be going on any broom ride
`til you're out of Hogwarts.”

Lucius sighed in relief when Luke immediately ceased his struggling; he might be strong, but
there was only so much he could take where a four-year-old's energy level was concerned.

Lucius gave Ginny a grateful look. “That was quite effective. But why that particular time
frame?”

Ginny shrugged insouciantly. “He'll be of age then; if he wanted to go bunjee jumping in a
shallow pool at eighteen, by law I can't do anything to stop him.”

“Right. Bunjee jumping.”

Ginny shrugged again. “Never mind. It's a Muggle thing.”

“Ah.” Lucius dismissed what they were talking about right away, and turned back to Narcissa, who
had finally succeeded in stemming the flow of her tears. She was only hiccupping now, and Lucius
resolved to tease her later on with her loss of control.

When Narcissa had sat down on a sofa identical to the one she had been placed in while she'd
been unconscious, Lucius finally eased Luke down so he could also share in the moment with his
sister. But before he let the boy go, he whispered something into his ears first, to which Luke
nodded reluctantly.

Ginny watched as her son practically catapult himself into the arms of his grandmother. When
Lucius sighed beside her, she looked at him inquiringly.

“I asked him not to be so enthusiastic in his greeting; I should have enumerated what
constituted enthusiastic,” Lucius answered wearily. But for all that he was weary, there was still
contentment in his voice.

Ginny snorted. “Even if you did that, do you think that would have prevented him from mimicking
a human cannonball? This is Luke we're talking about here.”

“I know.” Those two words were so full of meaning that there was no need for them to say
anything more. They stood side by side, looking down at the tableau before them, each consumed with
their own thoughts.

As Ginny watched her son interact with Narcissa, she couldn't help but feel relieved at the
way they had so easily accepted a virtual stranger into their life. Of course, they were still
children, but she knew that Nicole would have otherwise refused to acknowledge the older woman if
she'd sensed something unpleasant about her, and that would have been that. And if Nicole had
been indifferent to her grandmother, Luke would have also followed suit. No questions asked. That
was how the two of them operated. Which made her worry: What would be their reaction towards their
father?

Lucius, for his part, couldn't help but feel satisfied. The secret he'd been carrying
around with him was finally out, and he could breathe easily again. It was like a great weight had
been lifted off his shoulders; his wife was totally infatuated with the twins, and the twins were
also treating his wife as though she was their newest favorite person. And that was okay with him.
He'd had more time with them, and Narcissa deserved to have this moment to get to know them
better. As far as Draco was concerned, he was still somewhat hopeful that his son would eventually
get his head screwed on right, but he wasn't going to be holding his breath while waiting;
doing that was a sure fire way of getting himself a one way ticket to St. Mungo's with no
possibility of recovery, with the diagnosis of Cerebral Hypoxia R/I Irreversible Brain Damage. He
had finally accepted that Draco would do with his life whatever he wanted with it, and there was
nothing he could say or do to change his mind. And for the first time in his life, he was finally
okay with that.

“Do you think we should break that up?” Ginny asked quietly, nodding her head at the trio on the
sofa: Nicole was standing on the cushions, leaning on her grandmother's right shoulder while
they both looked at Luke, who was gesturing wildly with his hand, jumping from one unrelated topic
to another, completely dominating their conversation.

Lucius shook his head. “Not yet. Let them have this time for themselves.” He looked down at
Ginny, who looked up at him when she sensed him watching her. “Lord knows this is going to be the
lull before the storm. Draco should be here any minute now, and I'm sure that'll be all the
interruption those three will need.”

Ginny nodded and turned back to sit on the couch she'd been sitting on while Lucius joined
his wife and grandchildren on the sofa. He was right; they should enjoy the precious few minutes of
calm before the hurricane that was Draco came to do what he did best: muddle things up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ron, what are you doing there?”

Ron looked up from his lazy contemplation of his shoes and saw his two best friends coming
towards. He grinned at them and sheepishly scratched his head. “It was too crowded inside, and, um,
there was an incident.” He didn't look them in the eye when he said the last part, and a hint
of red started creeping from his neck to his cheeks.

Hermione frowned. “What incident?”

Ron blushed furiously. “Just something unexpected, is all. I didn't know what to do so I ran
out.”

Hermione looked up at Harry with confused eyes. “What do you suppose happened?”

Harry looked sharply at his friend, who refused to meet his eyes. “How long have Lucius and
Narcissa been inside, Ron?”

Ron shrugged. “A few minutes, I don't know, I didn't keep track. Probably not more than
fifteen.” Then he finally looked up at Harry, which proved to be a big mistake.

Harry nodded after staring at his friend for several seconds. “You ran out because you were
freaked out when Narcissa started crying.”

It wasn't a question, and Ron silently cursed himself for forgetting that Harry was an
expert at Legilimency.

Hermione pursed her lips disbelievingly and shook her head at her best friend. “Oh Ron, will you
ever grow up?”

“Look, I haven't much experience at this sort of thing,” Ron said defensively. “And it's
not like I get to see a woman faint and cry every day of my life. It scared the shit out of
me.”

“Is there anything that *doesn't* scare you, Weasel-king?” Blaise drawled, looking over
Hermione's shoulder, giving Ron a meaningful look.

Ron glared at Blaise mutinously. “You shut your gob! Just because my sister happens to like you
doesn't mean I do too. I have no qualms of wiping the floor with your face.”

Blaise chuckled. “You and what army, Weasley?” He looked over his shoulders and in a bored voice
spoke to someone behind him. “He's always making threats, yet he's never followed through
on them. `Course, that might have something to do with Molly Weasley walloping his behind if he so
much as gives me the evil eye when she's around, and Mrs. Weasley is *always* around.”

Ron curiously leaned over sideways to see who Blaise was talking to, and his jaw clamped down so
hard he heard his teeth crack when he realized just who it was.

“So he's finally decided to show his face around here,” he said angrily, clenching his fist
in preparation for a fight.

Blaise started chuckling again when he saw that Ron had assumed a fighting stance. “Be careful
what you wish for, Weasley. My boy here might not look much, but I can assure you, he packs quite a
punch. Take it from someone who knows.” He shrugged and grinned when Hermione sent him a
questioning look. “He reacted quite violently when he saw Luke on stage and let fly one solid punch
to my jaw. It still stings; want to feel it?” He gazed down flirtatiously at Hermione, pointing to
his jaw.

Harry didn't even bother with subtlety; he pushed Blaise away from his wife. But when he
looked at him, a wide grin split his face. “Did he, really? I'd have loved to see that.”

“You're all heart, Potter,” Blaise drawled, crossing his arms across his chest and widening
his stance aggressively. “Given the chance, I'm sure you would have helped, yeah, you would -
*helped beat the shit out of me*, that is.”

Harry just grinned in reply while Hermione groaned at their display of antagonistic, childish
behavior, which had been a constant in their lives. She'd gotten used to it; the two would
never come out and say they admired the other, even if they were being threatened with death via
very painful means. Such was the complexity of their relationship, and anyone who tried to
understand the dynamics of it was bound to suffer the effects likened to the *Confundus*
charm.

“Come on, you two, we have no time for another one of your little love scenes.” She ignored the
sputtering coming from two directions and turned her attention to Ron, who was still looking
malevolently at Draco, who, surprisingly, hadn't put a word in edgewise as was his norm. He was
just standing there, waiting, whether for Blaise and Harry to start scrabbling all over each other
or not, Hermione was not altogether certain.

“And you, Ronald,” her voice dripped with authority, “while your glare is quite ferocious - ”
she ruined her observation by rolling her eyes, “ - I'm sure Lucius is already wondering
what's keeping Draco. Now, if you could move away from the door, you'll have every
opportunity to have a go at him after the meeting.”

Ron knew Hermione was right, but a perverse side of him just wanted to be difficult: He
didn't budge from his strategic position, his eyes still fixed on the cause of her sister's
grief, his bearing screaming `hell no, he'd nail himself to the door if that's what it
takes to keep ferret-man from her sister and his niece and nephew'. He'd forgotten Hermione
had grown into a vicious woman, one who wasn't squeamish when it came to her hexes and
wasn't discriminating where one of them landed on a man's person.

“Oh, give over, Ron. You knew this was going to happen eventually. Do we really have to do this
the hard way?” Hermione asked, producing her wand, and idly tapping it on her open palm. “I thought
you and Ginny had already had the talk.”

Ron blanched. “Why do you have your wand with you? Only Aurors are allowed their wands tonight.”
He pointed at Harry, who was still looking quite green around the edges. “Why's your wife
carrying her wand around? You're an Auror, do something!”

Harry shook his head once, as though to try and discard the visual his wife had given him,
before going over to Ron, slinging his right arm across his best friend's shoulder. “Give over,
mate. The sooner this gets done, the sooner you and your brothers can start ganging up on him.
Think how ruffled Malfoy'll be afterwards.” Casually, he moved Ron from the door, and Hermione
quickly took up his other side.

Ron took the easy way out and allowed his best friends to steer him away. But not before he
threw one last scathing remark at Draco over his shoulder.

“Yeah, he'll be easy pickings once Ginny shows him the door. Nobody screws a Weasley and
gets away with it.” Then, as though belatedly realizing what he'd said, he turned beet-red. “I
mean - ”

“We know, Ron,” Hermione interrupted before he could start in again. “Why don't you stop
while you're ahead, hmmm?” They continued walking away while Blaise and Draco watched their
retreat. Hermione looked back at the stationary duo standing by the door and fixed her eyes on
Blaise.

“Blaise, you'll - ?”

Blaise nodded. “Don't worry. I'll take it from here.” He watched as the trio vanished
into the crowd. Finally, Blaise turned to Draco and regarded his friend quietly. He wasn't
looking too well once again; whether that was because of what Ronald Weasley had said in parting,
was hard to tell. He lightly punched his friend between the shoulder blades to get his attention.
“You ready, Drake?”

Was he ready? *Was he ready?* He wanted to say no, he wasn't ready, but would he ever
be, really? It wasn't everyday that a body was suddenly faced with fatherhood. There was no
going back though, and he wanted to get this over with, *now*, before he lost his nerve.

Draco nodded grimly. “Let's get this over with.”

Blaise nodded and stepped up to the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You darling,” Narcissa crooned, dropping a lingering kiss on Luke's cheek. He was sitting
in her lap, eating his way through a bag of chocolates, while his sister sat properly between their
grandparents. “And I just love their accents,” she said, looking at her husband, her eyebrow's
raised.

Lucius shrugged. “They spent almost all their time in America. Legally, they're Americans;
they were born there, and only came to England on special occasions.”

Narcissa's eyes widened. “So that's why I never heard any rumors about them.” She turned
to look at Ginny, who was overseeing the visit with a gentle smile on her face. “It must have been
hard for you, my dear, being all alone in a foreign land with a baby on the way. I know how
difficult it can get emotionally *and* financially, especially since you're so far away
from your family; they were the only source of support you had back then, and to be parted from
them? I can just imagine how terrifying that experience must have been for you. I hope Lucius was
more than generous in providing you with all that you needed?”

Lucius coughed to cover his snort. Financially hard up? Ginevra Weasley aka Moira Welsh?
Hardly!

Ginny sent a censorious look at Lucius, one he completely ignored as he continued alternately
coughing and clearing his throat. Blast the man!

She smiled amiably at Narcissa. “It wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be, not
at all. My best friend accompanied me, and he managed to fill my time with, um, little tasks here
and there,” she fabricated, throwing a warning glance again at the blond wizard sitting beside his
wife with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Nothing too strenuous, of course; he was very careful with
me while I was still carrying the twins. Colin made my stay in New York as pleasant as possible,
and the four years I stayed there were years that I will always treasure, and do over again, if
given half the chance.”

Narcissa blinked. “Umm - ”

Ginny immediately realized just how inflammatory her statement was, and she colored brightly.
“Not that getting pregnant outside of marriage is something that I would endorse! No, no! I only
meant that I don't regret having Luke and Nicole, and - ”

“Settle down, Ginevra,” Lucius said smoothly, still smirking. “We know what you mean.” He sent
his wife a sly look. “We know how irresistible our son is, you don't need to explain.”

Ginny gasped in horror. “That's not - !”

“Stop it, Lucius,” Narcissa admonished her husband lightly. “You're embarrassing the poor
girl needlessly. No, honey, let me get that,” she said gently to Luke when the sticky piece of
candy he was currently devouring fell on her lap.

Ginny could not believe how well Narcissa was holding up with the twins; she didn't even
complain when Luke had effectively ruined her dress with the sticky piece of chocolate he'd
started eating not five minutes ago. Her pre-conceived notion of Narcissa Malfoy, socialite and
elitist extraordinaire had just been shot down to hell. Permanently.

“Let me get him, Narcissa; he knows better than to eat that stuff while in his formal robes.”
That was the second time she had offered to take her errant son from his grandmother, and for the
second time, she was refused.

“No, no, it's okay. It's just a dress, after all, it can easily be replaced.” Finally
free of the offending piece of candy, she smiled brightly at Ginny. “Now, where were we - ”

She was cut off by the opening of the door. Five pairs of eyes turned and watched as two figures
came in, then the lull in the conversation was broken by Luke's delighted shout.

“Uncle Blaise!”

In a flash, Luke had wriggled down from his grandmother's lap and was hurtling himself into
Blaise's arms, who grimaced when he felt his sticky fingers wrap around his neck.

“Oh man, not again, sport,” he groaned dramatically, making a face at the boy in his arms. “This
is the third time you've done this to me in less than two days. If you keep doing this,
I'll charm a protective bubble around myself so you won't be able to get within an inch of
my immaculate self.”

Luke only laughed at him, rubbing his nose against his uncle's.

Draco stood rooted by the door, envious at the scene before him. He didn't know what it was
he felt when he saw the little boy, his son, greeting some other man so warmly. His chest felt
absurdly tight, and he was finding it hard to breathe. He wanted to reason that his son probably
thought Blaise was his father, and Blaise was probably going to be that before long, but damn it,
he couldn't bear to see the closeness they shared. The boy was *his* son, not
*Blaise's!*

Ginny slowly rose from her seat, her eyes riveted on Draco. He was here! He was finally here!
And she felt the overwhelming urge to run. To hide. She wasn't ready after all, far from it in
fact. She didn't know what to say to him; she couldn't string two words together to save
her life at that moment and she freely admitted that failing. What was she to do?

Lucius languidly stood up and walked up to Draco. “Took you long enough,” he said lightly, his
tone belying the importance of the moment. “I was beginning to wonder if you had decided against
coming after all.”

With great difficulty, Draco tore his eyes away from his son and looked at his father. “You told
me my dream didn't mean anything. You warned me away from them.” Draco's tone was mild and
even, and his eyes were blank.

Lucius stood before his son, his shoulders back, head high. He was the picture of a dignified
man, facing an adversary without a heed for his own safety. The next second, his head snapped back
and he staggered a few steps as Draco expressed what he thought of his father at that moment.

“You bastard! You worthless piece of dragon shit! You *snake!”* Draco roared. He grabbed
the front of his father's expensive suit and brought his face up short. A trickle of blood ran
from a split on Lucius' lips, but he didn't care if he'd managed to knock all his
father's teeth down his throat. He was shaking badly, and it was so easy to just let his anger
have free reign and kill the sorry excuse for a father that was Lucius Malfoy.

Before he knew it, Blaise had successfully insinuated himself between them, and managed to sever
his hold on his father. He struggled like a demented man, pushing at Blaise to try and get to
Lucius, yelling obscenities at him. Blaise got tired of keeping him at bay and slammed him up
against the wall, effectively halting his efforts for a few seconds as he wondered how on earth
Blaise had gotten so strong. Then he was at it again.

“Get away from me! Let me at him! I'll make him sorry he ever messed with me! Let go,
Zabini!”

Blaise used the only move he knew how to immobilize a hostile suspect: Bracing his feet on the
carpeted floor, he pressed his forearm against Draco's throat and cut off his breathing.

Draco couldn't move as he struggled for air. He was beginning to see stars, and somehow he
knew that Blaise would not ease off him if he continued acting like a mad man. But how could he
not? His own father robbed him of the chance to know his son! He lied to him about the most
important thing in the world to any man, and he would never forgive him for it.

“Will you try and act more reasonably now?” Blaise asked quietly, not easing up on his hold of
his best friend. “I can do this all day, Drake, trust me. The question is: Can *you?*”

It was a stupid question; he wasn't probably going to last another five minutes and Blaise
knew that. Grimly, his teeth gritted, he nodded, and closed his eyes in relief when the pressure on
his windpipe finally eased.

“Now.” Blaise straightened his jacket and looked at Lucius and Draco. “You two are adults who
can surely discuss this without going for the other's jugular. I suggest you do so before you
frighten the children any more than they already are.”

Children? Draco's eyes snapped open and immediately settled on the little girl who was
clutching Ginny's right thigh; the boy was on her left, and both had tears running down their
face.

The dream. He'd dreamt about a girl and a boy, and he'd completely forgotten.

Shocked beyond words, Draco looked helplessly at Blaise. Sighing, Blaise stepped aside and
gestured to the twins.

“Drake, I'd like you to meet Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne Weasley. They're twins. Would
you like to come and say hello?”

Blaise knew he wasn't making things any easier for his friend, but he couldn't help it.
He hated seeing the look of fear on the twin's faces, and their own father had put it there!
Unknowingly, yes, but try explaining that to two impressionable children. He had warned Draco not
to make a muck of his chances tonight, but he was too much of a fool to listen. How could the twins
warm up to him now, when he had just assaulted their beloved grandfather?

Draco swallowed audibly; he didn't know what to do. There was so much he wanted to say, but
he didn't know where he should start. And even if he could summon enough gumption to try and
explain his actions, would it matter in the face of what he had done to them? He wasn't
delusional; he knew he was in for the fight of his life if he wanted to be given equal opportunity
where the twins were concerned, and the fact of the matter was, he wanted them. He didn't know
them, but he wanted them with every fiber of his being. If it weren't so tragic, he would have
laughed at the irony of it all. He was Draco Malfoy - never in his life had he been denied anything
that he wanted if there was a way of getting it. But now, he was faced with the very great
possibility of being disappointed for the first time. And it petrified him.

“Draco, honey, are you all right?”

He barely recognized his mother's voice; he was too preoccupied with his impending loss. But
when he felt her touch, he had to force himself to look down at her.

“You don't look too good, Drake. Maybe you ought to sit down.” Narcissa tugged at her
son's arm to try and make him sit, but he didn't budge from his position pressed up against
the wall; it was currently the only thing keeping him from toppling over.

“I'm okay, Mother, just a bit shocked. I'll be all right.”

Narcissa looked at him skeptically. “Are you certain?”

He nodded curtly. “Yes.”

Narcissa took a deep breath, then before Draco's eyes, the concern in them changed into one
full of accusation. “How could you, Draco Malfoy! How could you do this to me? How could you be so
irresponsible? Do you know I almost had a heart attack when I found out? Do you have any idea how
hard it was seeing the evidence of your complete lack of sense? And you abandoned them! You turned
your back on them and never looked back, even once to try and see if there was any consequence
relating to your despicable behavior! No, no! Don't you dare try and talk your way out of this!
I am severely disappointed in you, Draco. Severely!” Narcissa took a deep breath, giving her son a
warning look when it looked as though he was about to say something.

“If you were smaller, I'd take a paddle to your backside,” she said furiously, planting her
hands on her hips. “Now. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Draco looked incredulously at his mother. “I didn't abandon them!” he denied vehemently. “If
I had known I would have been there. And it's not fair, you biting my head off for something
that I was completely unaware of. I asked father about the possibility of - *this*!” He waved
his hands towards Ginny and the twins. “And he categorically told me there was nothing for me to
worry about.” He shot the quiet Lucius a hateful glare. “He told me I should go back to France and
forget about whatever suspicions I had about Ginny. If you should start castrating someone, start
with your husband!”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. “Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, young
man! You might be much too grown up for a spanking, but I am still your mother! You will accord me
the respect I deserve! And leave your father out of this; I'll deal with him myself over his
involvement in this affair.”

Draco bit back the words he wanted to say about her abilities as a mother. What was the point
anyway? He would always be a boy in her eyes, despite how old he was going to get eventually.

“I'm sorry, Mother,” he bit out, tucking his hands in his pockets so she wouldn't see
the fists he'd made of them. He ached to pound his father to within an inch of his life, but he
knew Blaise would only get the upper hand with him once again, and he didn't think that he
could defeat his best friend with his present state of mind. “I don't mean any disrespect. But
this has also come as a surprise to me, and you know I'm not very good at dealing with
surprises, unpleasant or otherwise.”

Narcissa contemplated her son for a few seconds before nodding ungraciously. “Very well. But I
hope you learn that violence will not solve your problem, Draco, and this *is* your problem.
You have to find a way to fix this.”

He nodded grimly, his eyes moving over to Ginny and the twins. Thankfully, they were no longer
crying. Rather, they were looking at him with a wariness one employed around a caged lion. And that
same longing swept over him once again. He wasn't quite sure what to call the feeling; yes, it
was possessiveness, but he knew there was more to it than that. He was bombarded with so many
conflicting emotions he could no longer identify one from the other. He *ached* as he looked
at them, and he didn't like the feeling at all.

“If you're quite sure you're over your tantrum,” Narcissa broke through his inner
contemplation, “maybe you ought to introduce yourself to your children?”

Panic flew inside Draco's chest. He wasn't ready for this! He wasn't ready to
introduce himself to them as the man who had helped create them, and then left! Sure, they probably
don't completely understand what that meant yet, but he couldn't risk it, he just
couldn't.

“I - I - ”

Lucius felt sorry for his son; he could pretend to understand what Draco was currently feeling,
but really, who was he kidding? He wasn't much of a father to Draco, but even dreadful fathers
like himself could imagine that should he say even one thing remotely wrong, there was every
opportunity for him to completely alienate himself from his children, and very little chance of
them accepting him into the fold with welcoming arms. If he was in his son's place, he would
probably also try and keep them from knowing the truth right away, if only to buy some more
time.

And he owed that time to his son.

“Maybe he and Ginevra should talk first, Narcissa. It would be so much easier if they could
clear the air before the children are brought in.” He wrapped an arm around his wife and reached
his other towards the twins. “Luke, Nicole, why don't you come with me and your grandmother?
Let's go and see what your Uncle Ron is up to. And didn't you tell me that your cousin is
also here? Let's pay him a visit, shall we?”

Luke shook his head vehemently. “We can't leave Mommy here, Grandpa!” Luke protested,
tightening his hold on his mother's thigh. “The bad man will do something to her. I don't
want my Mommy to stay with the bad man!”

Again, Draco felt that unfamiliar achy feeling in the vicinity of his chest. He was a bad man in
the eyes of his son, and that was not a very auspicious start to their relationship.

Ginny saw Draco flinch; the movement was very slight, she wasn't even sure if she'd seen
right, but she knew that for all his shortcomings as a man, Draco could still feel hurt by such
honesty coming from his son. He was human, after all, no matter how he tried to act otherwise.

Carefully, she dislodged her son's hold on her thigh and tipped his chin up so he could see
that she wasn't afraid; he would never leave if he saw that his mother was fearful of the
stranger who had assaulted his grandfather.

“Go with your grandfather, baby; I'll be okay.” She smiled down at him, then at Nicole.
“Really. He won't hurt me. I'll see both of you in a little while.” She allowed Lucius to
take Luke, and Narcissa, Nicole. Luke was still not cooperating with the adults, trying hard to
free himself from his grandfather's hold. Nicole was her usual self, trying to look brave, but
the way she was holding on to her grandmother's hand belied the truth of her feelings. “Luke,
please? I just really need to talk to Draco. Nothing's going to happen to me, I promise.” She
kissed the top of his head. “Now go, go and play with your cousin. I'll be there before you
know it. Bye, darlings.”

Nicole kept looking back at Ginny, giving her penetrating looks before moving her gaze over to
Draco. Ginny didn't know what her daughter was thinking; she only hoped she wouldn't voice
whatever it was she was thinking to her brother before they left the room. She usually let Luke be
the flamboyant one in their relationship, as though she thought it beneath her to show so much
unguarded emotion, and it frightened her sometimes, this reticence her daughter most of the time
displayed.

Ginny watched the four figures pass through the door. Once they were safely out of hearing, she
forced herself to look back at Draco. He was staring at her as though she was something he had
never seen before, and her hackles rose involuntary.

“Well!” Blaise broke through their staring match. “I'll just wait outside then. Gin, just
holler if you need help, okay?” He didn't wait for a response before also exiting the
oppressive room.

Draco stared at Ginny. He couldn't believe she didn't tell him she had gotten pregnant.
With twins, no less! And fool that he was, he had been too obsessed with her to notice the signs on
her body when they last made love!

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Ginny's chin rose in defiance. “Would it have mattered?”

Draco was stunned. He couldn't believe what she'd just said. “Of course it would have
mattered! If you had told me, things could have ended up differently.”

Ginny crossed her arms. “Or it could have ended the same way. I'm not stupid, Draco. I may
have given you the impression that I am, but I assure you, I am far from being it. Nothing would
have changed between us; you would have been the same Draco Malfoy who thumbed his nose at us
Weasleys. And worse, you would have done far more damage by being a part of my children's life
the way you are. I couldn't risk it, I *won't* risk it.”

“You don't know what could have happened!” he said defensively, his tone raising a notch.
“You only supposed that would have happened, but you couldn't really know for sure.”

Ginny stared at Draco for a minute, her eyes searching his. “Tell me, Draco,” she said after
sometime. “What was I supposed to think? The night you slept with me, you told me it was nothing
more than sex. You couldn't wait to get rid of me. You called me deluded, told me I was reading
too much into what happened. You told Parkinson I was beneath her. And oh!” She tilted her head to
the side as though just remembering something. “Incidentally, that was the night I found out I was
pregnant. Ironic, isn't it? The things we said to each other that night, and there I was, on
the family way, with *your* baby.” She laughed a little, but there was no joy to be found in
the exercise. “It wouldn't take a genius to know what I must do when I found out. I
*disgust* you; why should you feel differently towards my children?”

She turned her back on him and walked over to the seat she had previously occupied. Draping her
left arm over the back of the padded seat, she stared at the scooped seat, lost in remembering.
“And even if I had wanted to tell you, when would I have had the chance to do so? At our last
meeting? When you all but abandoned me with just a note? How did that note go again?” She raised
her eyes and showed him how much it had hurt when she'd found the note. *“Stay as long as you
like, the room's been paid for. Great night, by the way, you were always the best lay I've
ever had. If you want to do it again, owl me. I might not get back to you right away, I'll be
busy getting married, but after the honeymoon, I'll be more than happy to pick up where we left
off. Sorry about disappearing on you like this, got to pick up the misses. But I'm sure you
understand that, being in the business that you're in.”* She dared Draco to defend
himself.

“Did I leave something out in there? Pretty accurate wouldn't you say? McGonagall always
told me I had one of the best memories among all the students she had taught before. It's
served me very well all my life, being able to recall unforgettable moments such as that night. And
that little *love note* you left helped me to realize that I had done the right thing all
along. You don't deserve to be called father.”

“But you can't change the fact that *I'm* their father. I am!” Draco said
desperately. He detested his pride that had made him say those awful things to her, but they'd
already been said, he could no longer take them back. He *wanted* to take them back, but short
of going back in time to try and keep himself from making the biggest mistake of his life, there
was nothing he could do about it anymore.

Ginny's eyes blazed. “You were only a sperm donor, Draco. It takes more than humping a few
times and ejaculating to make a father. That's an honor you don't deserve.”

“Ahhh!” He yelled, whirling around and punching the wall behind him. “Goddamnit! What do I have
to do to make up for this?” He pressed his forehead against the abused wall, unmindful of his
bruised knuckles. “Tell me!”

“I don't know that you *can* make up for what you've done,” Ginny said quietly. She
wanted to go to him *so* badly; she wanted to tell him that everything was going to be all
right. But she knew nothing would ever be all right between them. Maybe, over time, she could learn
to forgive all the bad things he'd done to her, but she didn't think she'd be able to
forget. He had cut her deeply, and she was prepared to ignore her heart if that meant he would
never be able to get the chance to hurt her again. The two of them were doomed to spend their life
apart, and no amount of contrition on Draco's part could change that.

“There must be something!” Suddenly, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms,
pulling her body up against his. “Tell me! Tell me what I can do to make this all go away. I
*need* to make this go away!”

“This is not like a fly you could swat away, Draco,” Ginny said calmly. “You can't always
get what you want.”

“Do you want me to marry you? I will, I'll marry you. Right now, if you want. Just, tell me
what you want me to do.” The desperation in Draco's eyes was heart wrenching, and Ginny wanted
to cry and beat at his chest for acting like this now, when she had promised herself never
again.

“Please, Ginny, please give me another chance. I'll do anything.”

Ginny could no longer stop her tears from falling. She didn't want this! She didn't want
Draco begging her! A Malfoy never begged; she knew that. She *never* wanted this!

“You can't marry me, I don't want you to. And have you forgotten that you're
engaged? You're getting married in less than two weeks, Draco, and not to me.” She extricated
herself from his hold, putting as much distance between them as possible. “You've made your
bed, Draco, and I've made mine. Try and be happy in yours; I've made my peace with mine a
long time ago.”

“Ginny.” What was he to say to that? He *was* about to marry another, despite his
apprehensions on the whole business. He had not voiced his concerns to Dianne, and so it most
probably meant the wedding was on; it wouldn't go over very well if he suddenly changed his
mind after all the preparations had been made. But then again, is the scandal of an aborted wedding
really all that important when pitted against the likelihood of him not being made a part of Ginny
and the twins' life? What was it Draco Jr. had once told him? He was the master of his own
destiny; he alone had the power to ruin his life. Make or break it, the decision was his alone. And
if he proceeded to go through with the wedding, well, Draco Jr. would surely dance on his head in
glee, chanting I-told-you-so.

He would be damned before he would let the annoying voice in his head get the better of him!

“I won't keep you from getting to know your children, Draco, Merlin knows it's hard
enough in this world not knowing your father. But knowing and being unable to do anything about it
is even harder.” She sighed. “I'm sure Lucius will be more than happy to supervise your visits;
I'll talk to him about it. In the meantime I suggest you try and make yourself as pleasant as
possible; Nicole has a tendency to spot erratic behaviors and emotions in people, and she's not
shy about showing you she doesn't like you if that's how she feels. Luke is much better at
dealing with strangers, and you'll be a stranger to them, make no mistake about that. But he
usually differs to his sister; make an enemy of Nicole, and you'll never get a chance to get
anywhere with Luke.”

Draco stood up straight and listened as Ginny talked. It was decided: He wasn't going to
just lay down and play dead, no sir! This wasn't over between him and Ginny, that was for sure.
But trying to reason with her, appealing to her emotional side, hadn't proved effective so far,
so he was going to back off. For now. Let her think that she had won the battle. But the war had
only just begun. Even if it took him a long time to set things right, by Salazar's shrine he
would persevere! Whatever it took, *however* long it took. In the end, he was going to get
Ginny and the twins.

And anyone who stood on his way was going to regret he had ever messed with him in the first
place.

*****

The difficulty of the task is no excuse for avoiding it. Let us begin anew—remembering on both
sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us
never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate. = John F. Kennedy

-->



18. Truths 101
--------------



A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! I actually didn't notice when it was I last posted; I
had a lot of stuff to attend to, then I got sick, and it just got worse from there. But here's
chapter 18 for you all.

A/N2: I love my beta, yam, but she's about as proficient in French as I am. Thanks to Lola
Lerion who has offered to help me out with the French stuff.

**Chapter 18: Truths 101**

Draco fell into step with Ginny, his eyes only for the woman beside him. She was being extra
careful not to touch any part of his body as they walked to where the twins were, and it galled him
to the core the way she was treating him, as though he was something infectious, malignant, as
though she wanted nothing to do with him. And deep inside him it hurt, much more than he ever
thought it possible to hurt. He wanted to just grab her, and shake her, and make her see that she
couldn't possibly mean the words she'd said to him earlier. She'd told him she loved
him before, surely she wasn't so fickle that she would easily change her mind about that? She
just couldn't!

*And why shouldn't she?* Draco Jr. goaded, his tone bored. *You certainly haven't
shown her any reason not to rethink whatever it was she felt for you before. Don't you
remember? You laughed when she told you what she felt for you. If you'd only been honest to her
then, maybe you wouldn't be so hard up now. But as the case now stands? Regret is such a mean
bedfellow, ain't it?*

Draco briefly closed his eyes as he cursed the pestilence that resided in his head. Draco Jr.
had always had bad timing, *always,* but he couldn't have picked a better time to intrude
on his concentration than that moment. He needed to keep all his wits about him; if he suddenly
started arguing with himself in front of Ginny and his children, that was a sure fire way of
getting the boot out of their lives without a by-your-leave. Who would want a man with a
schizophrenic predisposition for a father anyway? They'd managed so far without one and
they'd probably be thanking their lucky stars he hadn't been around if they thought he was
not quite right in the head.

*That's quite a dilemma, I agree with you there. It would be really interesting to see
what Ginny's reaction would be, once you started talking to yourself. My experience over the
years have not been pretty, I can tell you that much. Funny, but not pretty**.*

Draco put all concentration on putting his foot in front of the other, and on not looking grim
as he contemplated on how best to extract his revenge on his `voice of reason'.

*Tsk, tsk, tsk. Have you forgotten I don't have a corporeal form, my boy? My, my, and this
so early in the game. However will you survive the next several days? Or weeks? Or dare I say it -
months! Even years! Someone should just put you out of your misery, that way you won't be
prolonging your agony and be done with it already.*

“I *swear* - !” Draco stopped and gritted his teeth, staring straight ahead. He could feel
Ginny's curious stare and he wanted to snap at her. It was the first time Draco Jr. had goaded
him to the point of talking out loud with other people within hearing distance, and worse, Ginny
was looking at him as though he had gone mental all of a sudden, which he probably had.

“What? You swear what? Are you all right?” Ginny asked hesitantly, edging inconspicuously a few
inches more away from him. And that made him finally snap.

Perversely, he breached her personal space, caught the arm she raised to ward him off and linked
it through the crook of his elbows. As if not satisfied with what he had done, he moved his face
down close to hers and spoke clearly into her indignant face:

“I don't have a disease you can catch simply by holding my arm. And if you even think of
moving away from me, I swear on Merlin's grave I'll kiss you in front of all these people,
gossip be damned. Got it? Good.” He didn't wait for her reply and motioned for her to resume
walking, arching one arrogant brow as though daring her to prove he hadn't been making idle
threats.

Ginny bit her tongue; narrowing her eyes at him, she did as bidden. She knew very well the
trouble Draco promised was not a threat, and though the very idea of being that close to him again
was exhilarating, she also knew that giving in to his charms once again would only be perpetuating
a cycle of never ending abuse between the two of them. And that was something she was not prepared
to subject Luke and Nicole to.

Draco could not believe how right it felt to have Ginny in his arms. She was beautiful, yes,
that was already a given, but beauty all by itself could get boring. There was more to her than
just her looks, and from the not so discreet admiring glances she was getting from the other men
around the cavernous ballroom, they were more than eager to find out what that something was, if
he'd only step aside and make himself scarce. Yes, it was more than just her physical package;
in fact, he would even go so far as to say that she was meant only for him, freckles and all. She
was his complete antithesis, and yet, somehow, they fit.

Admittedly, he had been with many women, all of them undoubtedly beautiful - sadly, all of them
also thought it was their ingrained right to be worshipped and have the world laid down at their
feet. At best he was an indifferent lover, most of the time playing on the women's vanities,
letting them think she was Cleopatra to his Anthony, his Juliet to his Romeo. They preened, they
stuck their noses in the air, they *gloated*, thinking that they had managed to triumph where
so many others had failed so miserably before them. And he had let them think it. He had let them
think that no other had suited him better than she was, and he was glib enough to pull it off time
and time again.

Some of the women he'd been with thought he was perverse, beastly, rotten to the core, but
his defense had always been that what he did with them was nothing they didn't know beforehand,
nothing they hadn't gone through with other like-minded men. He told them what they wanted to
hear, spun tales only the vainest could possibly believe, and if they fell for it hook, line and
sinker, who was he not to take advantage of the opportunity presented? He didn't go out of his
way to fool any of them; they were the ones who came to him thinking they were the one woman
destined to institute change on the unattainable Draco Malfoy. Not one of them thought for a second
that their quest was doomed to fail even before they'd begun, for Draco Malfoy, the only heir
to the vast Malfoy fortune, had unknowingly shut the doors to that possibility a long time ago. He
may have to marry one day, but like everything else in his life, his approach to that particular
chore wasn't going to be guided by silly little prerequisites like emotions and all the baggage
that went along with it. Not even Dianne had managed to make him change his mind, though he'd
thought about it.

He had only really seriously toyed with the idea of marrying for reasons other than apathy,
*just once*, and that only recently; he'd ultimately decided he didn't like the
complication it could bring to his well-ordered life. In fact, only Ginny had made him question his
decision, and look what that had brought him? He was now forever being harassed by a ghost in his
head, and try as he might, there was no dislodging Draco Jr. from his position of comfort.

Then again, if he was to be honest with himself, it wasn't altogether unpleasant the way
Ginny made him feel. It made him uncomfortable, yes, and he *was* actively looking for ways to
put an end to the way he felt for her, but of all the women he'd been with, Ginny Weasley was
the exception that made up the rule. For the first time he felt as though he truly belonged. With
her, he didn't have to pretend; with her, he could be himself, and he wouldn't be found
wanting.

*Oh, boo-hoo! Getting sappy there, aren't we, Draco?* Draco Jr. interrupted his
thoughts, pretending to gag. *I never thought the day would come when the aloof and arrogant
Draco Malfoy would one day yield to an emotion he had once called spurious and a total waste of
time. I seem to remember you laughing your head off at the idea of soul mates, love at first sights
and destinies. Singing a different tune, are we?*

Shut your gob! Draco thought harshly, doing his best not to show the tension he was under on his
body. You should be happy I'm finally doing something you've been haranguing me to do since
day one. Don't ruin this for me now!

*I think you're doing that just fine all by your lonesome**,* Draco Jr. scoffed.
*And I've never told you to blackmail Ginny into staying with you; that's the lowest form
of coercion in my book. I say, if the lady doesn't want you, cut your losses and go. It's
very bad sport to suddenly be interested in anybody just because she had finally decided you
weren't worth the time of day. Very bad sport**.*

I don't care what you think! If I have to tie Ginny to my side to keep her there, then
that's just what I'll do.

*Let me know how that works out for you. Oh, wait, silly me!* Draco Jr. chuckled, *I*
know *beforehand how that'll work out for you. Good luck, my boy. I see you'll be needing
lots of it in the future**.*

Draco waited, then heaved a sigh of relief when he felt Draco Jr's. presence recede; he
didn't know how long he would be able to withstand his heckling before he lost control of what
little patience he had, a patience that he badly needed if he had to deal with Ginny's refusal
of his plea.

“Now I know something's really wrong!” Ginny suddenly said, whirling around to face him.
“What is *wrong* with you? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were in
*pain**!* If you've suddenly decided you don't want to go through with this, then
by all means, speak up! I am not going to force my children on you so you don't have to martyr
yourself in your efforts to do the right thing!”

Draco looked at the irate woman before him, and right then and there decided he'd had enough
of keeping his inclinations at bay. It had not escaped his notice that they had reached a
semi-secluded area a few feet from the room they previously were in, and so he didn't hesitate
in taking advantage of the situation.

Ginny didn't have enough time to escape him, and found herself pushed up against the wall,
his large body practically nailing her against the cold concrete. And if that wasn't bad
enough, he then wrapped his left arm around her waist and slowly, purposely, fitted his body
against hers. She tried to avert her eyes but with great deliberation, he tipped her chin up, his
aristocratic fingers languorously stroking her face, from her brows to her chin, then back
again.

Ginny closed her eyes; she was finding it hard to breathe properly. The way Draco felt, so close
to her was pure torture. She wanted to yell at him, to demand that he stop manipulating her in this
manner, but she didn't have enough will power to do so. She should have known asking Blaise to
go ahead of them was a bad idea, but she had foolishly thought that Draco understood what she felt
for him now; she hadn't taken into account that he wasn't one to just give up, especially
when it came to something as important as his children. She had a feeling he would be as tenacious
as Lucius, and she was not happy to be proven right. That, or somewhere inside herself, *this*
was what she had hoped would happen when they were left alone.

Ginny banished the thought the minute it crossed her mind; that way lay disaster, and if she
never learned anything in her life again, at least she learned *that* the hard way*.*

“What do you think you're doing?” She was relieved to hear that her voice sounded normal
enough.

“Come on, Ginny,” Draco said huskily, his breath fanning her cheeks, “why don't we forget
about all that happened before and start over? You know you want to.” He dropped a lingering kiss
on the side of her mouth. “And I want to.”

Ginny balled her fists and gritted her teeth; he was doing it again! He was using her physical
response to him to get his way, and she wanted so much to wipe the smug look from his face with her
fist. The only thing keeping her from doing so was the thought of her children; she didn't want
their first proper introduction to their father with the latter's face all bloodied up.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him thinly. “That's just too bad, then. It's about time
you worked hard for something for once in your life. I'm way past the stage where you can use
my body to get what you want.” With strength she didn't know she possessed, she pushed him off
of her and glared at him. “Now if you're quite through with your intimidation tactics, there
are people waiting for us.” She forged ahead and halted before a door. Raising her brow in a
perfect imitation of his more notable affectations, she looked back at him, her hand on the knob.
“Coming?”

Draco forced himself to get over his shock and nodded. It was the first time his brand of
coercion had failed him and he didn't quite know whether he should feel angry or irritated or
proud of Ginny for putting him in his place. Seduction had been his tried and tested method of
getting his own back almost half his life, and the one time he wanted it to work badly, it
didn't. Strange that he wasn't decisive about how he should feel about that.

Without waiting for him to reach her side first, Ginny opened and sailed through the door.
Bracing himself, Draco followed and faced the occupants of the room. With an ominous thud, he
closed the door behind him and faced the greatest hurdle of his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Do you think it's wise, leaving them together like that?”

Blaise looked down at Hermione and smirked. “Hell no! It's never *wise* to give Draco
that kind of opening. Which is precisely why Ginny didn't have to twist my arm when she asked
me to go - I want them to get together, and for that to happen, it's never a good idea for my
delicious self to be anywhere nearby.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You know what, I liked you better in Hogwarts. I prefer your brooding
side to this Cassanova image you like to project. At least then, I knew when to take you seriously
or not.”

“That's good to know.” Harry handed her a glass full of orange liquid. “Here you go.” Having
done so, he possessively wrapped an around her waist and cocked a brow at Blaise. “What were you
just talking about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Blaise answered, putting on a sad face. “Hermione was just telling me how
much she loved me back in Hogwarts, and that if you hadn't acted like a madman and swore
you'd kill yourself if she didn't break it off with me, she and I would have made a lovely
couple. She didn't have a choice then since you had yet to kill Voldemort, and there was really
no one else who could do it. So she sacrificed her happiness and became your muse. Sad,
really.”

Harry merely grinned. “That was quite a mouthful, Zabini, really inventive. Considering
Voldemort died in our sixth year, yeah sure, whatever you say. But if you ever opt for an early
retirement, I'm sure the *Daily Prophet* would be more than happy to engage your services.
That was fantastic story telling, right up there with Rita Skeeter's, I'm sure.”

“Sure, sure, mock me now, but one day I'll have the last laugh.” He brandished a fist in the
air to emphasize his point. “I, Blaise Zabini, will win in the end!”

“You're such a drama queen, Zabini,” a new voice interrupted Blaise's monologue.

Blaise scowled at Ginny's best friend. “No one asked your opinion, Creevey.”

Colin ignored him and turned to Harry and Hermione, who were openly laughing at the disgruntled
Blaise. “I was looking for Ginny. Do you know where she's off to?”

Hermione grinned and nodded. “She's introducing Draco to the twins. Why?”

Colin sighed. “I was afraid of that. It's just that I got a call from Sarah; apparently,
she's in London, and was getting quite frantic when she couldn't locate Ginny anywhere. A
friend of mine at the police station called me up and warned me that she had filed a Missing
Person's report when nobody could tell her where our favorite redhead was.”

Harry's interest was immediately piqued. “Who's Sarah? And you never mentioned you were
acquainted with any muggle officers.”

Colin looked at Harry and promptly forgot what it was he was talking about. Hermione's
giggle and the hard punch to the shoulder blades Zabini threw at him brought him back to earth.

“You're pathetic, Creevey, d'you know that? After all this years, you're still hung
up on scarface?” Blaise smirked. “Get a life, man!”

Both Harry and Colin turned red in the face. Only Hermione's amusement saved the moment from
turning into a total disaster.

“Leave him alone, Blaise. You're just jealous my husband gets more attention than you.” She
winked at Colin, who smiled at her gratefully.

“The day I become jealous of Potter is the day I decide to come out of the closet, my dearest
Hermione.”

“Shut up, you,” Harry told him off, but there was no rancor in his tone of voice. “You talk far
too much. You were saying, Colin?”

Colin cleared his throat and glared at Blaise. “Right. As I was saying, Sarah's a friend of
ours back in New York. I don't know what she's doing here, as she was supposed to be hiding
out in her parent's place somewhere in the States. Fortunately, the report she filed was given
to Detective Michaels, who recognized Ginny's name and promptly called me, who then gave my
contact number to Sarah once I told her it was okay for her to do so.”

“Ah.” Harry's forehead creased in bewilderment. “Then what's the problem? It sounds as
though this Sarah is not a dangerous person.”

Colin sighed. “The problem *is* is that Sarah wanted to take up Ginny's offer to host
her visit here in London.”

“And?”

“Sarah's a Muggle.”

“Oh.” Silence reigned for a minute before Hermione spoke up. “You mean a *Muggle* Muggle,
or a Muggle*born?**”*

Colin ignored Blaise's casual comment about the two being the same. “Let's just say if
she saw one broom flying around, she's liable to admit herself to an asylum for lunatics.”

“That *is* a problem,” Hermione remarked, looking deep in thought.

“What do you intend to do about it?” Harry asked casually, taking a sip of his own drink.

Colin sighed again. “I was hoping to catch Ginny before the Big Confrontation, but since
that's out of the question now, I'll have to try and deal with this situation myself.”

“Just wait for Ginny to finish up with the Malfoys,” Harry suggested.

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“She's already at my apartment. That's why I disappeared for a few minutes, had to pick
her up at her hotel. She didn't want to wait another minute and insisted on seeing me right
away. Apparently, she's been here for three days. And before you ask, I can't leave her
alone in there for long, who knows what she might discover. And I can't just take her over to
the Manor either, especially with Ginny not there.”

“Why not? I'm sure Ginny wouldn't mind. If this Sarah person is a good friend of hers,
there's plenty of room in the manor; one more occupied space wouldn't cramp that
monstrosity.”

“Are you kidding me? I couldn't possibly!” Colin said fervently, horror etched plainly on
his face. “With Lucius always underfoot, who knows what could happen!”

They were silent again for a short while. Colin was essentially justified in his apprehension;
even if Lucius had seemed to develop a high tolerance for the other side of the fence, so to speak,
it was still everyone's guess what he would do when thrust into the company of Muggles for more
than an hour at a time. Then Blaise threw in *his* suggestion.

“She could always come and stay with me.”

Colin's worry was immediately replaced with suspicion and disbelief. “Ha! I don't think
so, Zabini. Sarah is in a bad place right now, and the last thing she needs is an oversexed
stallion rearing to go. Ginny would kill me if I let you get within an inch of our friend.”

Blaise scoffed. “Oh please! I do have taste you know; I don't just take any woman into my
bed. This Sarah person would have to be one of a kind for you to worry about her virtue. And stop
laughing, Potter, before I hex your bits off!”

“If you see Sarah, believe me, you'll want her in your bed,” Colin declared prophetically,
ignoring the dark scowl on the Italian's face. “Anyway, I'll just go and check on her for a
minute. It's a good thing I had a fireplace installed in my bedroom; if she had to see me
coming out of one, well, you know what I mean. If I don't get back and you see Ginny, will you
tell her where I'm off to?” he asked Hermione. “I really should go.”

“We'll tell her,” Hermione promised. “See you, Colin.” They watched the blond man weave
through the throng of people until they couldn't see him anymore.

“I can't believe he doesn't trust me with a Muggle,” Blaise stated wonderingly. “I ought
to feel insulted.”

Harry snorted. “I wouldn't trust you around a female elf, Zabini, now what does that say
about you?”

“That you may have weird kinks, Potter, but I assure you I am not so inclined,” Blaise said
haughtily, the Zabini pride oozing out of him in waves.

“Shut up, both of you,” Hermione said mildly. “Since you two are now off guard detail, let's
go eat; I'm quite hungry all of a sudden.”

Harry immediately laid a gentle hand over Hermione's growing abdomen. “Right. Let's go
feed my baby, shall we? Oh, and Zabini, if you're wanting to come with us, don't hog the
buffet this time. I have two people to feed, you know; you pigging out gives my wife the urge to
puke.”

“I resent that!” Blaise complained loudly as he followed the couple. He didn't pig out,
truly he didn't. Just because he had an appreciation for the finer things in life, from the
bedroom to the dining room, and wasn't afraid to show it didn't mean he pigged out. And was
it his fault Hermione was pregnant and was constantly throwing up all over the place? That was all
Potter's fault; if it was otherwise his fault, he doubted he would have been able to see the
light of day the minute that was established.

Really, some people just don't think with the head above their shoulders, Blaise thought
morosely, as he trailed behind his partner and his ex-girlfriend.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Mum, I think it's time I go see about Ginny,” Bill whispered quietly, keeping his face
averted from the rabid press.

Molly Weasley smiled and nodded at her eldest. “I think that would be best. I'd go with you,
but - ” she gestured faintly at the crush surrounding her husband, “ - I don't think your
father will thank me for abandoning him for this. Tell Ginny we'll try to see her before they
have to go, but if we don't get there, we'll just see her later at the Manor. And make sure
you keep your head on you; we don't need Philippe running in fright at the sight of his father,
now do we?”

Bill nodded grimly and maneuvered his way from the crowd. No one tried to intercept him - the
expression on his face wasn't exactly welcoming - and so it only took him a few minutes to
reach his destination. He had excellent timing; right when he'd rounded the corner towards the
room he'd left his son in with an impromptu nanny, he saw her sister and Malfoy entering the
room themselves. He did not particularly relish this part of the night's program, but it had to
be done. He so wanted to roast the younger Malfoy over a roaring fire, but his mother had told him
that that would be counterproductive; he knew doing that wouldn't solve anything, but at least
some of the hostility he had hoarded up against the younger man would be appeased. Pity.

Reaching the closed door, he fixed the most menacing expression he could summon on his face then
turned the knob of the door and entered.

“ - not mine!” Draco asserted vehemently, shaking his head as though to emphasize his point.

Bill surveyed the spacious sitting room, noting Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were seated together,
with Luke and Nicole and his son playing by their feet. Or they *were* playing. At the moment
they were staring up at the determined looking man standing a few feet from them. He didn't
understand what had occurred between the time Draco had entered and his arrival, but whatever it
was, it looked as though Draco was about to burst a vein. Curious, he crossed his arms and leaned
against the doorframe; no one acknowledged his presence, and that suited him just fine.

“I swear, Ginny, he's not mine. You've got to believe me!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Don't be so melodramatic, Draco. Of course he's not yours. You
didn't give me time to introduce him before you started getting red in the face.” She turned
her back on him and opened her arms to Luke and Nicole, who went to her eagerly.

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Luke asked quietly, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck.

“Yes, baby. I told you I'd be fine, didn't I? Did you behave yourself with your Grandpa
and Grandma?”

Luke looked timidly up at the pale man looking down at them before nodding and hiding her face
on the side of his mother's neck.

Ginny chuckled. “What this? Not getting shy, are you? Not my brave little monster!”

Nicole tugged at her mother's dress. “Is it true, Mommy?” she asked quietly. “Is he our
Daddy?”

Ginny smiled at her daughter. “Yes, honey. Would you like to meet him?”

Nicole stared at her mother and started worrying her lip.

Ginny watched her daughter's eyes closely, seeing the conflict there. She didn't know
what Lucius and Narcissa had told her and her brother while she and Draco had not been around, but
at least some of the wariness in her eyes was gone. There was still indecision there, and Draco
would have to tread cautiously around that, but at least most of his daughter's suspicions
about him had been tempered. By how much she didn't know yet. Only time would tell.

“I guess,” Nicole said finally, looking up at her father. “Grandpa Lucius said he's his
boy.”

Ginny nodded. “He was, several years ago, just as you and your brother are my own little girl
and boy.” She dropped a kiss on her forehead and after urging Luke to stand beside his sister,
stood up and faced Draco. With a hand on each of their shoulder and an encouraging smile on her
face, she commenced with the introductions.

“Luke, Nicky, I'd like you meet your father, Draco.” Turning her eyes to the pale man
standing before them, she raised her chin proudly and introduced her children. “Draco, this is Luke
Ian and Nicole Adrianne, my - *your* children.”

Luke shuffled his feet, refusing to look up at his father; he had a fistful of Ginny's dress
clutched in his little hand. Nicole wasn't as shy as her brother; she was staring up at her
father with a curious expression on her face.

Draco was dangerously close to following Luke's lead; this was the most uncomfortable
situation he had ever found himself in, and he didn't know what to do with himself. Should he
go down on his haunches and open his arms to them? Should he talk to them? *What* should he
talk to them about? How does one go about acting like a father, anyway, for Merlin's sake?

Draco was about ready to bolt, he was that unsure of himself, when Nicole stepped forward and
tilted her head at him.

“You look just like my brother,” she observed, her gray eyes narrowed.

Draco swallowed his tongue. Unable to say anything, he just nodded, looking down at her, then
past her to her brother. He jerked back to attention when she resumed talking.

“Where have you been?”

Forget swallowed tongues; Draco felt his gut being wrenched out and knotted before his very
eyes. How the hell could he answer this girl's seemingly innocent question without sounding
like a complete ass?

He looked up at Ginny; she found the painting hanging by the left side of the room suddenly
interesting. Right, no help from that quarter, obviously. He didn't need to look at his parents
to know none was forthcoming there as well. He was all alone in this ordeal.

He cleared his throat. “Well, um, what you have to understand, Nicole, is that - ”

“Nicky.”

Draco blinked. “Pardon?”

Nicole thrust out her chin. “My name is Nicky.”

Draco blinked again. “Oh. I thought your mother said it was Nicole Adrianne?”

“Noooo,” Nicole dragged out, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Only my teachers ever call me
*Nicole Adrianne**.* And Mommy, when she's trying to be mean.”

Draco was at a loss; on the one hand, it was good that his daughter wanted him to call her by
her nickname, but on the other hand, she hadn't actually told him he could use the preferred
name himself. Completely lost, he drew a deep breath and risked it.

“Well, *Nicky*, I - what were we just talking about?”

The expression on her face now was not in the least encouraging; she looked as though she had
made up her mind about him already!

“I asked where you've been?” she repeated impatiently. She had her arms crossed in front of
her frilly dress now, and she didn't look too impressed with his seeming lack of attention to
her question.

Draco shrugged helplessly. “Not here, I guess,” he said simply. When it looked as though she was
waiting for more explanation, he wracked his brain for an explanation that would not leave him
hanging out to dry. “I was in France,” he finally blurted out. “It's very far away from here;
your grandfather sent me there to take care of some business, and there I've been for the last
four years.” Unconsciously, he raked a hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. “I didn't
know about you and your brother; I guess France was really too far away for news about you two to
reach me.” He glared at Lucius to make it clear as to whom he held accountable for that great
oversight.

“I've been to France,” Nicole stated simply. “Mommy took us there many times. It's not
very far away.”

Yeah, but when one evil bastard is making sure you're left clueless, France can be light
years away from England, he thought bitterly, the vein in his neck throbbing dangerously.

“I never meant to stay away so long, and I don't know what I can say that'll convince
you of that,” he said quietly, looking earnestly down at his daughter. “But if I had known, I
promise you, I wouldn't have let a day go by without trying to see you.”

Nicole was quiet for a few minutes, silently contemplating the earnest adult standing before
her. She looked back at her mother, her face thoughtful.

“I heard Uncle Ron talk about a Draco turning into a ferret, Mommy. It's him, isn't he,”
Nicole asked innocently, unaware of the air of danger emanating from her father, his expected
reaction when reminded of that embarrassing episode of his youth.

Ginny bit her lip, hard, to keep from smiling. She knew how much Draco must have hated being
reminded about that bit of transfiguration he had been subjected to, but it was just too good a
moment to pass up.

“Yes, honey, that's him.”

Draco glared at Ginny; he had tried to put that particular memory as far back into his
subconscious as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was a reminder of it courtesy of a
little girl a third his size, and the redheaded witch who had just turned his life upside down
inside of an hour.

“Can I see it then?”

The request sounded innocent enough, but when Draco saw the sly look his daughter was giving him
under lowered lashes, and the slight upward movement of one side of her mouth, he didn't even
think about moderating his language.

“Hell, no! When I'm dead and buried, maybe; then again, maybe not! But I will not hear of
any talk about turning anyone into a ferret when I'm around. Least of all me!”

“Draco! Mind your tongue, young man!” Narcissa rose from her seat majestically and stood beside
Ginny, glaring at her son.

“She smirked at me!” Draco complained, gesturing at Nicole. “If she can do that then she can do
a lot of other things.”

Ginny looked at the mutinous look on the older woman's face and bit her tongue; not saying
anything to negate what Draco had said was prudent under such circumstances. She had no problem
believing what he accused her - *their* - daughter of doing. Nicole, with her seemingly sweet
and nice temperament, was in truth as wily as any future Slytherin came. No one had come and
outright told her that her daughter was scary; all of those who have had the pleasure of being in
Nicole's company have all commented on how well-behaved she was and how much they wished their
own little girl were like her. If their little girls or boys complained otherwise, they merely
chalked it up to simple rivalry. If only they knew.

It wasn't that her daughter was evil, oh no! Far from it, in fact. Nicole was a very
friendly little girl; she had no problems sharing her toys or anything else she had with her
friends. But she was just too much like her father; at such an early age she was already showing
signs of being an elitist, and proud of it too. Ginny had been doing her best to try and curb that
undesirable trait in her daughter, but she was having slow to little success, even with the
unwitting help of her son. What made her efforts so difficult was that, more often than not, Nicole
was almost always right; she had the uncanny way of weeding out the people who had ulterior motives
against her or her family. How do you go about telling your daughter that she should be nice when
her gut instinct told her she shouldn't?

Which was why she was so afraid of Nicole's response to Draco. It wouldn't take very
long for Nicole to sense the kind of man her father was, and her being a mere four-year-old, she
just might jump to conclusions where Draco was concerned, no questions asked. Granted, any
conclusion Nicole might come up with may not be too far off the mark, but it had nothing to do with
her personally and everything to do with how her father had been brought up.

It was just that Nicole was at an age where everything was cut and dried; she was becoming
increasingly aware of who it was that comprised the core group of her family, and any outsider was
highly suspect. It didn't help at all that she had a pair of uncles that delighted in turning
her into a mischievous, highly creative little girl (to put a polite name to what Nicole was,
anyway); coupled with her natural unquenchable thirst for the unknown, there was no knowing exactly
to what depths she might go to express herself.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Draco!” Narcissa admonished her son, bringing Ginny up
short. “It doesn't become a full grown man like you to whine. Really, blaming your own daughter
like that. I never!”

“I wasn't whining!” Draco denied hotly, his faced flushed. “I was just pointing out what I
saw.”

Narcissa pursed her lips. “You are not endearing yourself to your children at all, Draco
Malfoy.”

Draco shut his mouth; he could never win in a situation like this. If he opened his mouth he
would only be worsening his case. He knew he wasn't exactly acting like the contrite absentee
father, but who would under such gross provocation? He sneaked a look at Ginny, and was further
irritated when he saw she was grinning. Grinning! She was positively gloating at the way he was
sinking in a pit he couldn't seem to stop digging for himself.

Ginny immediately wiped the smile from her face when she saw Draco looking at her, and produced
one of gravest solemnity. She might have overdone it a bit though, when Draco's scowl turned
even blacker.

“If you can't even be civil, Draco, I don't see the need for this meeting to go on any
further,” Narcissa threatened.

“NO!” Draco hurriedly interjected, panicking at the thought of being asked to leave. “Mother, I
*need* this time. Can't you give me a break? I don't exactly know my way around
this.”

Narcissa glanced at the quiet witch beside her, then at Nicole, who didn't seem to have been
affected by her father's loose tongue. She was at a loss on what to do; she wanted the twins to
like Draco, but at the rate he was going, the opposite was bound to happen. Then there was Ginny;
she hadn't expected to like the mother of her grandchildren so much, but the few minutes they
had talked, she had decided that she couldn't have picked a better woman for her son if
she'd tried. She knew Draco was intractable, and few people ever found that part of his
personality to be admirable; she didn't want Ginny to suddenly decide she'd made a
horrendous mistake and not give Draco a chance. The very thought of that happening was just
unthinkable.

Seeing the agony of indecision on Narcissa's face, Ginny lay a comforting hand on her arms;
she hadn't expected the older woman to show this much concern for her and her children, and
silently berated herself. If Lucius, who was a certifiably cold bastard, could act like the most
devoted parent over the twins, she shouldn't have expected less from Narcissa. From everything
that she had heard about the blonde woman, she had half-formed a picture of a woman who was, if not
physically similar to Molly Weasley, was nevertheless as equally dedicated to her family. And Luke
and Nicole were her family, which made her, as the twins' mother, a part of that family as
well, if only by default.

“It's okay, Narcissa, I can take this from here.” She glanced briefly at the now stoic
Draco, before flashing her a smile that was full of confidence. “Why don't you give us a moment
with Draco? We'll be fine.”

Before Narcissa could protest, Lucius was already beside her and had wrapped both arms around
her, moving them both slowly towards the doors.

“You'll see them tomorrow, Cissa,” Lucius reassured his wife softly. “It's time for us
to go and finish supervising the elves; we still have a lot of things to pack.”

“But surely not right now, Lucius!” Narcissa complained, looking back over at her grandchildren.
“Doing that won't take long; why don't you go and do that while I stay here and keep the
twins company?”

“No, Cissa,” Lucius said firmly. “You'll have plenty of time to do that once we've
moved. Trust me, you'll soon be complaining of constantly having those two around. Let's
give this time to Draco; he's right, he needs this time with them.” Lucius nodded at Bill, who
had moved aside to let them pass. “William.” Lucius nodded at Bill before opening the door.

Narcissa twisted around in her husband's arms and looked back at her grandchildren.
“I'll see you soon, darlings.” She smiled tremulously at the couple of `goodbye, Grandmas'
she received from the twins, and allowed her husband to guide her out the door.

Draco had stiffened upon hearing that the bane of his childhood was standing behind him. For how
long, he didn't know; all he knew was that he didn't like it. Deciding to just ignore
Ginny's brother for the time being, his eyes landed on the other boy whose parentage was still
up for discussion.

“What about him?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the boy sitting Indian-style on the floor,
playing with what looked to be a rather oddly angled man-doll.

Bill's hackles immediately rose. “What *about* him?” he demanded aggressively, coming
forward and obstructing Draco's view of his son.

Draco ignored him. “Who is that boy, Ginny?”

Ginny sighed; she didn't know why Draco was so antagonistic towards her brother. It
couldn't possibly have anything to do with what his father had felt toward her brother; that
was ages ago!

“That's Philippe.” She smiled at the boy when he looked up on hearing his name. “He's my
brother's son.”

One eyebrow rose. “Which one?”

Ginny wanted so much to say `Duh! Which one is currently looking at you with murder in his
eyes?' Instead, she simply answered him, “Bill.”

“Really?” Draco drawled irritatingly. “Who was stupid enough to get it on with him?” He
wasn't in the mood to be pleasant, and it provided him greater pleasure to know he was bugging
the hell out of his father's perfect example of a son.

Ginny immediately put herself in between her brother and Draco; Draco wasn't thinking
straight at the moment, and she feared what Bill might do to him under such blatant provocation.
Draco might have grown into a big man, but Bill was still bigger, and no matter how much Draco
might deserve a good thrashing, it didn't mean she wanted that to happen, especially with the
children around to witness it all.

“Bill, get a hold yourself!” she snapped, pushing her brother back. “And you!” She rounded on
Draco and pushed him back as well. “I don't know what is wrong with you, but I don't want
to hear another derogatory word out of that mouth of yours, or so help me God, I'll make you
sorry you ever spoke a word out of turn. Is that clear?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the
fascinated looks Philippe was giving Draco and his father, and she was sorely tempted to give each
wizard a whack on the head. Inconsiderate Neanderthals!

She took a calming breath and turned to her brother. “Now. Why don't you take Philippe back
home?” she suggested. “I'm sure Fleur must be getting worried right now. And you still have to
talk to her,” she reminded him sternly, ignoring the surprised sound Draco made. “If I were you,
I'd try to do that as soon as possible, before this thing between you two gets any more
complicated.”

“What about him?” Bill said grimly, nodding his head at Draco.

“Don't worry about him; worry about how you'll convince your son to go with you.” She
extended her hand to the boy. “Philippe?”

“Oui, TANTE Ginny?” Philippe replied immediately, his eyes still riveted on the two large males
facing off. At least, he had not put up a fuss when Ginny had asked him to call her aunt.

“Je veux que vous soyez allé avec votre père, Philippe,” Ginny said gently, smiling at the
little boy.

Philippe's eyes immediately became wary. “Pourquoi?”

“Il prendra vous soutient à votre Maman.”

Philippe shook his head. “Je ne veux pas aller avec lui; il a fait mon cri de Maman.”

“Il n'a pas signifié à.”

“Que s'il me blesse-t-il?”

“Bien sûr il ne vous blessera pas, il est votre père,” Ginny said softly, trying to pacify the
little boy.

“Je ne vous blesserai pas!” Bill denied, looking down at his son with sad, pleading eyes;
Philippe didn't even look at him.

“Aller sur, Philippe, aller avec votre père,” Ginny cajoled, ruffling the little boy's
hair.

“Fais-je vraiment doit? Pourquoi vous ne pouvez pas me prendre?” Philippe asked dejectedly.

“Parce que je ne peux pas maintenant.”

“Je veux rester avec Luke et Nicky,” he pouted, looking up at Ginny with big, blue eyes.

“Vous pouvez jouer avec eux encore plus tard. Vous pouvez dormir même dans la pièce pareille
encore. Comment aimeriez-vous cela?” If bribing the little boy was going to get him to go with his
father, then Ginny wasn't above doing that.

Philippe sighed a little. “Bien, bien alors. Il me prendra à la Maman?”

“Oui, il fera. Et nous vous verrons plus tard, bien? Il y a un bon garçon.”

Philippe nodded dejectedly. “Accord. Au revoir.”

Ginny watched as father and son walked out of the room, Bill hesitantly laying a hand on his
son's shoulder. It was really too bad that they had gotten off to such a bad start; Philippe
was a truly wonderful boy, and there was no doubt that Bill would be proud to call him son. She was
certain Bill was already regretting his behavior that paved the way for the coldness his son was
currently treating him.

“Doesn't he speak any English at all?” Draco asked as soon as the door closed behind the
departing pair.

Ginny shook her head. “No. We only knew about him yesterday, and all this time, he's been
with his mother. As she's French, it stands to reason that her son would be speaking the
language.”

Draco looked at her oddly. “And since when have you spoken French like a native?”

Ginny gave him a dirty look. “You'd be surprised at what I am now capable of doing, Draco.
Four years is a long time, and I'm not known for being idle.”

He visibly stiffened. There were too many implications behind her words and he was cautious of
jumping to conclusions once again; he'd already put his foot in his mouth one time too many,
and he didn't particularly like that exercise. Instead, he merely shook his head and figured to
stay on a relatively safer topic. “So. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour, huh? How did that happen? I
know the Delacours, and they would never approve of a Weasley.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. “How did you think you and I happened? Grow up, Draco, not
everything is measured by social standing anymore, you know.” She placed a hand on Nicole's
shoulder and steered her, together with her brother, over to the sofa.

Draco grew quiet as he watched them settle down, but only for a few seconds. “There's a big
difference between you and I from your brother and Fleur. I know Germaine very well; I *know*
he would never bend his beliefs just because his daughter forced the issue. *You*, on the
other hand,” he emphasized, his eyes narrowing, “are a different story. My father has been pushing
me towards you ever since you graduated from Hogwarts. I don't know why he's so fixated
with you, and until now he has never seen fit to enlighten me about it. But he wants *you* for
*me*.” He crossed his arms smugly. “So, as you can see, there can be no parallel between our
relationship and those two. *At all*.”

“Whatever,” Ginny said dismissively, ignoring Draco's comment about his father. *She*
knew why Lucius was so adamant about the two of them getting together, but Draco didn't need
that kind of ammunition in his roster; he had too much of those against her already.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, honey?” She smoothed away an unruly lock of hair that fell over Luke's eyes.

With one wary eye locked on his father, Luke whispered, rather loudly, “Are we gonna keep him?”
Him, of course, being his father.

Draco waited, with baited breath, for Ginny's answer. It was killing him, the way she seemed
to be taking quite a long time to answer the boy's question.

Ginny gave Draco a furtive glance before clearing her throat self-consciously. “Well, honey,
I'm not really sure yet.” She spared a glance at her daughter, and was hard-put not to grimace
at the way the little girl was cheekily smirking at her father. “What do you think we should
do?”

Luke gave the impression of thinking about his answer seriously, his lips pursed in
concentration. “If we keep him, what about Uncle Harry and Uncle Blaise? I don't want them to
go away.”

Draco tamped down his irritation at hearing his worst enemy and his ex-best friend coming off as
being more important to his son than he was. He really shouldn't be surprised; from the way
Luke had earlier greeted Blaise, it was obvious that the little boy was very close to the Italian.
And he would not put it past Potter to act all father-like towards any child Ginny might have,
either; it wasn't so long ago that she was head over heels in love with the four-eyed freak,
the same freak her mother wouldn't mind claiming as her own son.

“Of course Uncle Blaise and Uncle Harry won't go away,” Ginny said soothingly to the clearly
worried boy. “I would never allow that to happen.”

“He wasn't very nice to Grandpa and Uncle Blaise,” Nicole stated bluntly, her eyes straying
to her mother. “Why is that?”

Ginny suppressed the urge to groan; the why questions were already beginning. With a defeated
air, she looked at Draco and gestured over to the nearest chair. “You'd better sit down; this
is going to take a while.”

Draco took the proffered chair and settled in. He wasn't sure why Ginny had such a resigned
look about her, but he was glad that at least he wasn't being left out of the loop this time,
and more importantly, he wasn't getting the boot either. He didn't care how long it would
take, he didn't mind how painful it could be, he was going to try and see this to the very end.
Even if it killed him, there was no force on earth that was going to keep him away from his family.
Not this time. And should anyone try, whoever she/he was, they were going to find out firsthand
just how ruthless he could be. Potter might be the Wizarding World's golden boy, but the
unfortunate Death Eater's who had crossed his path in battle knew whom it was they should fear
more.

Which should have been quite ironic, had he thought about it. He was not afraid of blood thirsty
criminals, but he was scared out of his mind by a pair of two four-year-olds and what they could do
to him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The ball was still in full swing, but Bill had had no choice but to call it a night. His parents
had understood the need for him to go, and had bid their new grandson goodbye.

It was really quite unnerving, the way his son made him feel so awkward. When he made to pull
him closer to him as they flooed back to the Burrow, Philippe had looked so reluctant to be that
close to him that it just tore him apart. He adored children, he'd grown up with six of them
after all; heck, Fred and George had a tendency to act like a pair of two-year-olds on occasion
still. Then this? He really had no idea where to start mending the rift between him and his
son.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Philippe immediately started calling out for his mother, running
up the stairs, the toy robot Luke had given him dangling from his left hand. He followed more
sedately behind his son, dreading the inevitable confrontation with Fleur.

On the second floor landing he saw Philippe dash into his mother's arms, talking a mile a
minute. He talked about what he did with Luke and Nicole, the sitting room he had stayed in when
the twins had to step out for a few minutes, how Lucius and Narcissa treated him really nicely, and
about the large man who had appeared all of a sudden and almost had a fight with the man who was
supposed to be his father.

Fleur listened as her son rattled off, painfully aware of Bill looking on not too far away. It
was getting extremely difficult keeping a smile on her face while her ex-lover was in such close
proximity.

Finally, unable to stand it anymore, she pressed a gentle finger on Philippe's lips,
shutting him up. The elf, Tippy, was already waiting to take charge of Philippe, and she could no
longer avoid that talk with Bill.

“Le miel, je veux que vous soyez allé avec Tippy, l'accord? J'ai besoin de parler avec
la Bill.” Fleur kissed her son's forehead and gave him an encouraging smile.

It didn't work. “Que? Non! Que s'il vous blesse-t-il encore?” Philippe said worriedly,
gripping his mother's arms fearfully.

“J'irai très bien. Je serai par plus tard vous plisser dans, approuvez?” She gave him
another kiss on the head before nodding to the elf, who immediately started fussing over the
boy.

Left without a choice (the little elf was surprisingly strong), Philippe nodded and called to
her mother that he would wait up for her. Fleur watched as her son disappeared through a door, the
doubts assailing her once again. She could feel the waves of emotions emanating from Bill, and it
scared her to the very depths of her soul.

“Let's get this over with,” she heard behind her, and closed her eyes against the coldness
of Bill's voice. She nodded, without turning around. “Where do you want to talk?” she asked,
looking over her shoulder at the man who had meant the world to her before he gave her her son.

Bill clenched his jaw. “The only way to keep this private is if we talked in my room,” he said
grimly, looking at the frail woman standing before him dispassionately. He couldn't afford to
let her know how much she was affecting him; he wanted to still have some respect for himself in
the morning, and he wouldn't have that if he allowed her to run roughshod over him.

He watched her nod briefly and walked past him and entered his room, the room they had
inadvertently shared last night. The memory of it made his anger simmer some more; the alcohol he
had consumed the other night was enough to muddle his mind, and he had no clear recollection of
what exactly took place in his bed. If his mother was right, and they'd done more than sleep,
he didn't know where to place the blame on. He sure wasn't taking all of it for himself; he
was drunk after all! What he wanted to know was what Fleur's excuse was for waking up naked
beside him.

When he finally entered his room, he saw that she had taken the seat near the door. Ignoring the
implications of such an obvious choice, he shut the door then seated himself by the side of his
bed, his hands clasped in between his legs. He was leaning slightly forward, and to the neutral
observer, he might look as though he was greatly interested in whatever it was that the witch
seated before him was going to say. But the deceptively innocent posture was deliberate; he wanted
to keep himself from touching her, because if he did, he couldn't give assurance that it
wouldn't be because either he was shaking her, or strangling her.

He had thought about their situation a lot. After his talk with Ginny, he had grudgingly
admitted to himself that he was partly to blame for what went wrong in their relationship. But he
had also decided that no matter the sins they had committed against each other, it still
doesn't excuse the fact that Fleur had knowingly kept the knowledge of his son from him. And if
she'd had her way, if the accidental meeting with his sister hadn't taken place, he might
never have known he'd fathered a child at all. That was what hurt him the most; how could he be
so wrong about the only woman he had ever loved? Had he been blinded by what he felt for Fleur that
he had overlooked this selfish part of her? He would have never credited her with such cruelty
before, but now, he couldn't trust himself around her anymore.

Fleur tried to look as dignified as she could. It was hard, especially knowing that she was
wearing clothes that were not her own. She felt like a pauper, an interloper, in a place where she
had never thought she would be made to feel that way. She was a proud woman, a scion from one of
the oldest and most prominent families in the Wizarding World. Yet now she felt worse than nothing,
and the reason was sitting in front of her, looking at her with such loathing that she just wanted
to close her eyes and never open them again.

“Well?” Bill finally broke the tense silence. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was hard, *so* hard, to keep her feelings bottled up inside. But she had to do it. She
could not allow Bill to see how little of her previous self was left inside her.

“What do you want me to say?” she answered calmly, meeting Bill's eyes without
flinching.

“Why don't you start with Pierre Devereaux?” he bit out, the tension in his body doubling
up.

Fleur shrugged. “What about Pierre? He's my friend. He was there when I needed him.”

“He was more than just your friend!” Bill snapped, his eyes blazing.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, sincerely bewildered by his hatred for her best
friend.

Bill rose abruptly and pointed an accusing finger at her. “I saw you! I saw you with him that
night! You can't deny what I saw with my own eyes!”

Fleur also stood up, angered at his insinuations. “What? What did you see?” she demanded, her
face daring him to say out loud what it was that he was accusing her of.

“You had your arms around each other!” he spat distastefully. “Obviously you had already
finished up your *business* in our bedroom, you decided the living room would do just as well!
I saw him kiss you, and you were enjoying it!”

“What!” Fleur choked out. “Are you out of your mind? When did this supposedly happen?”

“Don't play coy with me, Fleur.” Bill crossed his arms across his chest. “You can't deny
that I saw what I saw.”

“When. Did. You. See. Us. Like. That?” Fleur bit out forcefully.

“The day I moved out. Why do you think I left? It was one thing having to deal with your father
and his disapproval of our relationship, it was quite another to have you flaunting your lover
before my eyes.”

Fleur stared at Bill in shock. But not for long. “The day you moved out? The only time I recall
Pierre and I together that day was when I asked him to take me to St. Mungos. I had just found out
I was pregnant and was out of my mind with worry about how you'd react.” She was trying very
hard to recall that day, but what was crystal clear to her was what happened later on that very
same day. “I was very upset, and I asked him to come with me for a check-up.” Then something
clicked in her mind; she looked straight at Bill and tried to gauge whether what she was about to
say was what could have made Bill leave. “Pierre hugged me to try and assure me that everything
would work out just fine. He'd said that whatever our problems were, you were sure to be happy
about the baby. Is that what you saw?” When Bill didn't answer, she knew for a fact that she
had hit the crux of their problem.

“You accused me of betraying you just because I was being comforted by a friend?” Fleur asked
incredulously, her anger starting to build up. She laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. “How
*dare* you?” she hissed furiously. “How dare you accuse *me* of having an affair when it
was you who was screwing around! Yes, I knew about Heather!” She let all the roiling emotions
within her surface, all the anger, the resentment, the frustrations of six years duration. “I knew
all about the late night assignments you were supposedly sent on, all the extra hours you spent on
the field. Did you really think you could hide it all from me?” She started pacing, breathing
evenly to try and keep up with her fury.

“Why Bill?” She stopped in front of the quiet man and closed the distance between them. “Did it
make you feel good, blaming your sins on me? Did you like thinking you had reason to cheat in the
first place, because I was doing it too?” Her accent was getting heavier and heavier, a situation
that always happened whenever she was upset, but she ignored it. “I was preparing myself, you know.
I thought it would be prudent to try and brace myself for the day when you eventually came to me
and tell me it was over between the two of us, but it never occurred to me that it would happen
because of something that I supposedly did!”

Bill could not say anything to defend himself. She was talking about matters that he *was*
guilty of, and he had no excuse for his behavior then. But he was not prepared to believe that he
had really been wrong all this time, that he had wasted years he could have better spent watching
his son grow up. And from the gist of what she was talking about, it seemed that she believed he
was merely projecting his sins on her to try and ease the guilt of what he had done himself.

“I've always wondered why you left, you know,” Fleur said in a hollow voice. “I used to stay
up late at night, trying to understand what it was that angered you enough to leave like that,
until I finally decided it wouldn't do me any good to waste away my life on a man who obviously
was just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. I told myself it was probably better I never got a
chance to tell you about the baby, at least you had a clean break from us. I convinced myself that
had you been aware of my condition, you'd probably stay with me and be miserable.” She heaved a
long breath and swiped furiously at the tears in her eyes. “Not once did it occur to me that you
left because you thought I was fucking another man.”

Bill flinched; he didn't much like hearing Fleur talk like that. He didn't like the way
it made him feel, but most importantly, he didn't like how much she made sense, and he
didn't. Because if she wasn't lying, he wouldn't blame her for hating him now. Because
if she wasn't lying, she had every right to turn her back on him and take his son with her.

“Then swear to me now,” Bill said quietly, keeping his desperation from creeping in his voice,
“swear to me that you never betrayed me. I need to hear you say it.”

“You know what, Bill,” Fleur said tiredly, “think what you want. I don't care anymore.” She
started backing away from him, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

She was already turning away from him! “Don't run away from this! How can we resolve our
problem if we don't face it together?”

Fleur's smile was self-deprecating. “I never had a problem, Bill,” she said, shrugging
nonchalantly. “You, on the other hand? I think it's high time you think about what your problem
with me really is.” Then she walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Bill would have felt better had she slammed the door; the calm way she acted, as though she
could care less enough to lose her temper, screamed a bleakness for their future together that made
him want to pound something. He sat back down on his bed, despair weighing his shoulders down, as
he caught his head in his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs. He'd made such a mess of
everything. He had taken the best thing that ever happened to him and thrown it all away, and all
for what? His pride?

He lay on his back on the bed, his legs hanging over the sides. There was nothing he could do
about the past anymore, he'd royally screwed that up already. But he was damned if he would let
Fleur walk out of his life now that he had her back in it. She was going to give him another chance
whether she liked it or not, and he knew just the right person to help him.

“Hate me all you want, but I won't let you leave me, Fleur. I won't let you leave me”
His quiet promise to the room rang with determination and verve; his only reply was the silent
whistling of the winds outside, and the distinct banging sound made by the ghoul in the attic.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Cissa.”

“Don't talk to me, Lucius.”

“Come on, Cissa, you know I would never hurt you.”

“Ha!”

“You are being childish, my dear.”

“Childish, am I!” Expensive silk black dressing robe went sailing out of the connecting
doorway.

“What's this?”

“Guess!” The slamming of the door was more than enough explanation.

“Open the door, Narcissa.”

“No.”

“You know you can't keep me out by simply locking the door.”

“I have your wand, so guess again, *my dear!*”

“You can't throw me out of my own room!”

Silence. Lucius knew his wife had only just realized that she was in his room, and vice versa.
Except for the times he'd been called away, he and his wife hadn't actually slept apart
since that night he admitted his feelings for her; the rooms were for appearances' sake. More
than half of high-born society couples slept apart, and should it be known that the Malfoy couple
actually enjoyed each other in the privacy of their bedroom, there was no telling what society
would make of their unusual set up.

“You can sleep in my room then,” Narcissa finally decided, although there was a lot less heat in
her tone of voice.

“Can't we act like adults about this, my dear?”

“I am angry, Lucius, and I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning to find that I had
murdered in your sleep.”

Lucius sighed and turned his back on the connecting door. “Fine,” he said to the room at large.
“I'll see you in the morning then.” He didn't know if he could fall asleep without Narcissa
by his side, but he didn't have a choice in the matter now.

Several minutes later, as he was tossing and turning on the bed, unable to find just the right
comfortable spot to sleep on, he heard his wife faintly through the door separating them.

“Goodnight, Lucius.”

And Lucius fell right to sleep like a baby.

He didn't know what woke him, nor what time it was, but something refused to let him get
back to sleep. He got out of bed, donned his bed robe and quit his room. The manor was dangerously
still, and a stranger would have thought twice about wandering the halls; for that matter, no one
with a modicum of sense would ever think of setting foot in Malfoy Manor day *or* night.

Lucius' instinct took him to the library. It was a vast room, one of the largest in the
manor, and contrary to Draco's belief, the dungeons were not his favorite part of his ancestral
home, the library was. There was just something about the musty smell of centuries old books and
the fresher, cleaner scent of newer tomes that called out to him.

Like the rest of the manor, the library was silent as though asleep. It took him a moment to
notice that there was a light coming from the furthest end of the room.

Draco lay sprawled on the large leather chair behind his father's oakwood desk, now
*his* desk. A bottle of brandy sat in front of him, and ice clinked against the full glass of
liquor that he was currently swirling around indolently in his hands. For all intents and purposes,
he looked like a devil-may-care young man blessed with too much good looks, too much money, and too
much charm than was good for him. As he concentrated on the amber liquid in his hand, it seemed as
though he hadn't a care in the world, and maybe that was fundamentally the kind of man he was.
Which was why he was now so ill equipped in dealing with the crisis he had suddenly found himself
thrust into.

Draco brought the glass to his lips and took a long sip. He had been drinking the potent liquid
since he got back from the Ministry gala some two hours ago, and no matter how much he tried to
make sense of everything, he couldn't quite point a finger as to when it was his life had
started going down the hill. He couldn't get the picture of Ginny and his children out of his
mind, and it was slowly making him lose his mind. He didn't know whether he should feel anger
towards her for keeping such a momentous event from him, or anger towards his father for
deliberately concealing his fatherhood from him.

He took another sip of his drink, welcoming the burning sensation as the brandy seared his
throat. His talk with Ginny and the twins after his parents had gone didn't go too well; there
were certain concessions Ginny had given him with regard to their children, but that hadn't
been what he'd wanted. He didn't want visitation rights, damn it! He wanted to stay close
to them. He was afraid that any length of time spent away from her and the twins, no matter how
short, would be enough for extraneous forces to influence her decision, and he would not be able to
bear it if she suddenly up and changed her mind about allowing him to spend time with his children.
He had no illusion whatsoever about what her family might feel towards him, seeing as from their
point of view it might look as though he'd flown the coop when the hen started laying. Why he
never thought of this very situation happening when he'd slept with Ginny all those years ago
he would never understand. He had acted irresponsibly, and though he could never wish that Luke and
Nicole didn't happen, the fact of the matter was, they did. And now he would have to settle for
what little scrap of time Ginny thought of throwing his way.

“Fuck it!” he yelled, hurling his glass across the room, the contents spilling over his table
and on the carpeted floor. The glass hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling harmlessly under an
inlaid marquetry side table. He didn't mind the mess he'd made, he was too deep in his
misery to care.

What was he to do? He had never had to face this kind of problem before, and he didn't know
where to begin to start fixing it. He had a lot to lose, and losing was just not an option, not
this time; he wasn't merely facing a simple game of quidditch that he could make up for during
the next match should he fuck it up the first time out; this was his life that was on the line.

His eyes burned, and he stubbornly refused to let the tears that were threatening to fall.
Malfoys never cry; they don't let others see they were in pain, they don't beg, they
don't show excessive emotion, they don't lose. He had already violated those rules at one
point or another in the past, but tonight he'd taken it a step further; tonight he'd
managed to break all but one of those rules in one fell swoop. He would not compound it by
crying.

Grabbing his head and raking his fingers through his hair, the one thought that kept passing
through his mind was `I have to fix this.' He didn't even know when he'd started
voicing the thought out loud, he just heard himself saying, over and over again: “I have to fix
this, I have to fix this.”

“Didn't you use all your newly acquired money to get what you want, Draco?”

He slowly raised his head; he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone in the library, and that
the last person he wanted to see was suddenly there, looking at him calmly.

“You. This is all your fault,” he whispered harshly, his eyes twin pairs of icy hatred all
directed at the man who had made his life hell from the day he was born.

Lucius shook his head. “Surely you're mistaken, Draco. I gave you every opportunity to
correct your mistake, asked you repeatedly to reconsider your relationships, but did you ever
listen to me?” Ignoring the palpable danger he was in, he strolled further into the room until he
was only a few feet from where his son was now sitting up straight. “Short of telling you the
reason why, which I was not at liberty to divulge, I did all that is humanly possible to bring you
and Ginny together. Don't blame me if you've suddenly found yourself paddling upstream with
a leaking boat and no oars in sight.”

“You bastard!” Draco roared, standing up and gripping the edge of the desk. “You did this
deliberately! You've fucking ruined my life!”

Lucius shook his head sadly. “No, Draco, that is one sin you can't pin on me.”

Draco itched to draw out his wand and hex the living daylights out of this sorry excuse for a
father he had. “Why didn't you just tell me! I came to you! I asked you about Ginny, and you
told me there was nothing for me to worry about! Why didn't you just tell me?!”

Lucius' eyes turned glacial. “Because no matter how hard you try to deny it, you *are*
me, Draco. We are cut from the same cloth. I could not let you do to Ginevra what I did to your
mother and if I am being a selfish bastard by taking that choice away from you, then so be it.”

“Leave Mother out of this. This has nothing to do with what you did to her and everything to do
with you and me. ” Draco's growl was full of menace.

“Why? You've never forgiven me for the way I treated you and your mother all those years
ago. Don't you think I know what goes on inside that head of yours? Yes, I know all that
you've been doing; I know you've been biding your time before you try and get back at me
for all my transgressions. I must have really thrown you for a loop when I just handed Malfoy
Holdings and all its subsidiaries without batting an eye; after all, haven't you been trying to
take over the company a little at a time?” He smirked. “You seem surprised? Don't you know
nothing ever gets past me without my noticing it? You might think you know everything, Draco, but
you can never get the better of me.”

Draco barely managed to keep his surprise from showing. “Why did you never say anything
then?”

Lucius shrugged. “You were taking something that was bound to be yours someday anyway. Why
bother? It might behoove you know, though, that money is not always the answer to everything. You
might have all the galleons in the world, but sometimes you can never get enough of it to get what
you want.” He strode over to a case and picked out a leather bound book. He started flipping
through the pages; not turning to look at his son, he spoke as though merely talking to himself.
“No man is ever rich enough to buy back his past.”

Shutting the book, he began walking out of the library, leaving a fuming Draco still bracing
himself on the desk. Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned. “Incidentally,” he said, as though
a thought had just occurred to him. “I know it hasn't been two days yet, but I wanted to ask
you: How does it feel to have everything in the world money can buy?”

Father and son stared at each for several minutes; when it became obvious that Draco had no
answer for him, Lucius left him to continue with his pity party.

Draco was literally shaking in fury; he was so stiff he didn't know if his muscles would
ever relax again. He tried taking deep breaths to try and control his anger; when that didn't
work, he tried imagery to pacify his bloodlust. When that failed as well, he did the only thing
available to him.

The brandy bottle shattered as it unerringly hit a space between the bookshelves. Draco started
panting, as he watched the amber liquid drip down to the floor, broken shards of glass everywhere.
But it still wasn't enough to appease his anger.

*Temper, temper, Draco**.*

It was the absolute worst time for the pest to start talking. “Leave me the fuck alone!” Draco
howled, banging his fist down on the table savagely.

*Letting your anger rule your head never solves anything, Draco*, Draco Jr. said
philosophically. *It can lead to a lot of things, as you've probably already found out, but
it never gives you the answers to your problems.*

Draco closed his eyes and slumped back down on his seat. “Why me?” he asked despairingly. “Is it
too much to ask of everyone to just leave me alone?”

*Since you asked so nicely, being left alone is also not an answer to your problem. It's
past time you buck up and deal with the consequences of your actions, Draco. If you do the crime,
then you'd better be prepared to pay the fine. I'm sure if you'll just show Ginny how
much you regret being such a bastard on three separate occasions, she might just forgive you. Of
course, if you'd only listened to me in the first place, you might not be facing all this crap
now.*

“Stop telling me things I already know,” he gritted out, giving the table's leg nearest him
a good kick.

*You're only hurting yourself, you know. Throwing a hissy fit because of what you found
out tonight should be the last thing on your mind. Instead, you should be thinking of ways of
getting Ginny back.*

“How can I think when you're constantly interrupting my thoughts?”

*Well, excuse me. A body tries to be helpful and what does he get? Really, Draco, you have
serious issues that need solving.*

Draco massaged his head. When will this nightmare end?

*Come on, focus here, Draco,* Draco Jr. went on. *We should strategize; think about
Ginny's weakness so you'd know where to strike first.*

“I can't believe I'm going to be scheming with myself, I really *am* losing
it.”

*No, you're not. Now, get with the program, mate. The sooner I get you two together, the
sooner I can look forward to a nice long vacation, away from all the drama of your life. I have at
least 20 years assured vacation time due me, before I make another appearance, and I am almost
packed and ready to go.*

“Merlin help me,” Draco said to himself. He sat up straight and rubbed his face vigorously with
his hands. “Before I let you drag me into this, explain something to me first.”

*Shoot.*

“Why are you helping me? Now I'm not questioning your altruism, but I got the distinct
impression from before that you've decided to leave me to my own devices. Why the change of
heart?”

*Well*, Draco Jr. hesitated. *You know how it is sometimes when you get frustrated,
especially when your charge just refuses to listen to sound advice. I just wanted to scare you a
little, you know, to make you toe the line. Not that it did you any good, mind you; you're
still as muleheaded as before. But like I said, I want that vacation, and I can't get to it
unless I help you fix your mess. If I have to resort to handing you over to Ginny gift wrapped and
programmed to her specifications, I won't hesitate to do it. And don't tell me I can't
manage it either; you don't know how good I am at mind-altering shenanigans. I'd give you
my references, but then again I'm not supposed to do that, something to do with confidentiality
clauses and some such nonsense.*

Draco's spine straightened even more as a glimmer of hope grew inside of him. “Then
you'll do whatever it takes to help me?”

*What have I been saying for the past 5 minutes? How can you not be listening? I reside in
your head, I pass for your thoughts; there's no way on earth what I've been saying just
flew over* *you**!*

“There's no need for sarcasm,” Draco grumbled. “I merely wanted to ensure we haven't got
our signals crossed.”

*My signals are never crossed, it's you that's always mucking it all up. Now, enough
talk. Tell me what it is you think Ginny's weakness might be.*

Draco shrugged. “I don't know, I wish I knew. If I did I'd probably not be needing your
help at all.”

*Ah, if wishes were horses, Draco. But since it's not, think man. Think back to all your
encounters. How come you've managed to convince her to sleep with you? Twice! What is it that
you have that she couldn't seem to say no to?*

“I thought it was just me, but when I tried to seduce her earlier, you saw what happened.”

*Stop whining, man! Malfoys don't whine.*

“I wasn't whining; I was merely pointing out that seduction seems to have run its course.
She's no longer susceptible.”

Draco Jr. chuckled*. I know more than you do, remember? Your seduction techniques were
working, all right, she's just decided that you manipulating her with your body is not going to
cut it this time. She's pretty protective of those brats of hers, and she'd cut your balls
off if you broke their heart just like you broke hers.*

“Hey! Those are *my* children you're calling brats!”

*Oh please! They're brats and you know it. They're just like you, especially that
Nicole. Ohhh, she's going to be a handful, that one! I'm so proud of that little imp,
I'd burst a seam right now if I were wearing clothes. She's going to do the Malfoy name
proud, I tell you.*

“Stop calling my children brats!” Draco demanded, ignoring the rest of what he heard; really, he
didn't need to have visuals of a naked voice in his head.

*Fine. They're not brats. Just behaviorally challenged. Okay, back to basics. First order
of business: Seduction. Not your type of seduction either, it won't work anymore as you've
just found out. Let's try to be a little more subtle this time around. A little nudge here and
there can go a long way, believe you me. Second would be the little tykes. Now no need to tell me
that they're not exactly over the moon for you; I was there and was witness to every painful
minute of it all. Third would be Lucius. Now don't kill the messenger, but I have to tell you,
mate, those spawn of yours love your old man. If you want them to warm up to you, pretend to at
least be civil around Lucius? I think it would go a long way to smoothing your path with
them.*

“What if I don't want to? Be civil to Lucius, I mean?”

*Well you'd better, or you can kiss the twins goodbye. It's time you try and mend this
rift you have with your father, Draco. It's been going on for far too long already; it's
not healthy for a person to harbor so much hate inside him.*

“He doesn't exactly make it easier for me to like him, you know,” he pointed out.

*What do you expect? He's a Malfoy! Malfoys live to be difficult. Just remember that
he's not out to make your life miserable, and go from there. How difficult could that
be?*

“Easier words have never been spoken; it's the doing that's the problem. A few minutes
in his company and I practically itch in my desire to hex him or something.”

*Just ignore him then, pretend that he's an apple tree or something. That should get you
through a day. You have to remember that you have more at stake now, and is it really worth it,
antagonizing your father just for the hell of it?*

Draco sighed. “I don't like where this conversation is going. Next you'll be telling me
I should act more like the son I never was to him; I'm warning you now, I'm not in the mood
to hear that kind of shit.”

*You're never in the mood to hear that kind of shit - that's the problem! That's
why you and Ginny are like night and day; your family life leaves a lot to be desired while hers is
disgustingly successful. She's the way she is because of her family, and you, well, you're
you I guess.*

“Thanks, I'm sure you meant that as a compliment,” Draco drawled sarcastically, looking at
the broken brandy bottle longingly; his eyes strayed to the liquor cabinet his father kept well
stocked and debated whether to open another bottle of expensive French poison.

*Don't even think about it. You already have enough problems without adding hangover in
the list. And ditto on the sarcasm by the way; if you can somehow find a way of shelving that
undesirable habit of yours for a few ticks, the faster we could finish this conversation. In case
you hadn't noticed, it's well past your bedtime, sonny.*

With a last longing look at the cabinet, he gave his full attention to Draco Jr. “Fine. Get on
with it then.”

*Okay. We've already identified the three points where you need to work on to get you
Ginny and the twins. Now I'm going to itemize the steps you need to take in order for this plan
of ours to be fool proof.* *But before anything else, I have a* *burning* *question
I need to ask.*

“What?”

*What do you intend to do about Dianne?*

Draco cursed rather fluently and slapped his forehead. “*O**h shit**!* I forgot
about Dianne!”

*Newsflash, Draco. You didn't just forget about Dianne, you* *didn't even
remember you were supposed to be acting the doting fiancée tonight and left her at the Ministry! If
I didn't know any better,* Draco Jr. goaded, *I'd say you didn't care. Do
you?*

He really was screwed up, and the sooner he get his life back on track, the healthier it would
be for everybody around him. He sighed.

“All right. I'll take care of Dianne, *you* concentrate on Ginny. Merlin knows I
couldn't be in any more shit than I already am.”

*So you'll talk to Dianne tomorrow?*

“I'll talk to Dianne *t**oday*. The sooner I tie up all the loose ends, the sooner
I can start breathing normally again.” He only hoped Dianne remained true to form; he didn't
much like emotional females, and though he had yet to see a sign that his fiancée was a part of
that statistic, the prospect of confronting her with such news as a broken betrothal the day after
she'd been effectively deserted at the Ministry didn't bode well for him.

*Think of it this way, mate; if she hexed your bits off,* *at least you already got
yourself an heir.*

Draco cursed again as Draco Jr. cackled maniacally. Yes, the sooner he and Ginny get back
together, the sooner he could be free from the plague in his head.

--------------

A/N: I don't know when I'll be able to post chapter 19. I'm due to move in Feb.
I'll continue to work on this story in the meantime, I promise, and will post the new chapters
as soon as I am able.

Quotes:

*No man is ever rich enough to buy back his past* = no idea who said this, but I came
across this quote and thought wow that's deep.

Translations:

Oui, tante Ginny ? = Yes, Aunt Ginny?
Je veux que ailles avec ton père, Philippe = I want you to go with your father, Philippe
Why? = Pourquoi?
Il va te raccompagner chez ta Maman = He'll take you back to your Mommy.
Je ne veux pas y aller avec lui ; il a fait pleurer ma maman = I don't want to go with him; he
made my Mommy cry
Il ne le voulait pas vraiment. = He didn't mean to.
Et si jamais il me fait mal ? = What if he hurts me?
Mais non, il ne te fera aucun mal, c'est ton père. = Of course he won't hurt you, he's
your father.
Je ne te ferai pas de mal. = I won't hurt you!
Allez Philippe, va avec ton père. = Go on, Philippe, go with your father.
Je dois vraiment y aller ? Pourquoi tu ne peux pas m'emmener toi ? = Do I really have to? Why
can't you take me?
Parce que maintenant je ne peux pas. = Because I can't right now
Je veux rester avec Luke et Nicky. = I want to stay with Luke and Nicky.
Tu pourras jouer avec eux un peu plus tard. Vous pourrez même dormir dans la même chambre encore
une fois. Ca te
plairait ça ? = You can play with them some more later. You can even sleep in the same room again.
How would you like that?
Bon, alors c'est d'accord. Il va me ramener à Maman ? = Well, all right then. Will he take
me to Mommy?
Oui, il va te ramener. Et on te retrouvera plus tard, d'accord ? C'est bien, bon petit. =
Yes, he will. And we'll see you later, all right? There's a good boy.
D'accord, au revoir. = Okay. Bye.

Mon chéri, je veux que tu suives Tippy, d'accord ? Je dois parler avec Bill. = Honey, I want
you to go with Tippy, okay? I need to talk with Bill.

Quoi ? Non ! Et si jamais il te faisais encore mal ? = What? No! What if he hurts you
again?
Ca se passera bien. Je passerai tout à l'heure pour te border, d'accord? = I'll be all
right. I'll be by later to tuck you in, okay?

-->



19. A Tangled Web
-----------------



A/N: So. It's been a while hasn't it? I debated with myself whether I ought to post this
chapter now, or wait until I finish writing this story, but I'm not sure when I would be able
to do that, especially since April would be a busy month for me. I just recently moved to a new
city, a new country in fact (3 guesses as to what my nationality is c”,). Anyways, once I manage to
pass my exam, I promise that I will devote every available time I have to this story, and
that's a promise.

**Chapter 19: A Tangled Web**

Draco apparated himself inside Dianne's hotel room; it was just a few minutes past ten
o'clock in the morning, and for such a fine day, he was looking decidedly grim. He'd been
dreading this moment since it became apparent what he had to do in order to smooth his way back
into Ginny's good graces, but really, he wasn't looking forward to Dianne's reaction on
his supposed change of heart. Aside from the fact that he had seemed rather set on the engagement,
Dianne had not only been his fiancée, she had also been a friend to him, and that alone made him
loathe to disappoint her.

“Hello?” There was no sign of Dianne anywhere, but that didn't mean she wasn't lurking
somewhere, waiting to ambush him for being an inconsiderate git. He was a lot of things, but never
before had he been so out of it that he would forget somebody as important as his fiancée.

When on a date, those years before he met Dianne, and he would suddenly find himself wanting to
conclude the evening with a woman that wasn't his initial companion; he had always extended the
unfortunate ladies the courtesy of a prior notice. It was totally unexpected, and right
embarrassing to be set aside with only a peremptory note stating he was sorry to be cutting the
evening short, but would she mind terribly if she continued the night without him? As if they had
the option to say no! He'd been telling himself that other men might not be so considerate and
just disappear on them completely, but he knew that those women were probably still cursing him to
this day for the way he treated them.

And he really wouldn't blame Dianne if she cursed his bits off, as his infernal cerebral
resident had laughingly told him: You just don't humiliate a woman like Dianne Winters and
expect to get away with it scot-free.

“Dianne?” he called out, preparing himself for any eventuality. There was no response, and he
wondered where she could be; Dianne was never one to laze in bed, no matter how late she happened
to be up the night before.

“Dianne? We need to talk.” This time, he heard a faint sound coming from the bedroom. He
didn't want to go in there; what he was about to discuss with her this morning would be better
related in more neutral environs. The bedroom was too intimate a setting; that, and the fact that
he wanted to avoid the news that he'd been closeted in a bedroom with his fiancée from reaching
Ginny. Their peace was tenuous at best; he didn't want to ruin his chances with her completely
by appearing to still be intimate with another woman.

Stopping by the door, he rapped on it loudly. “Dianne, can you come out for a few minutes? I
really need to talk to you.” He heard shuffling, then hurried footsteps before the door was
wrenched open from the inside and a disheveled Dianne stood before him in her dressing robe.

“Merlin, what time is it? I must have overslept.” She gathered her hair at her nape and looked
at Draco curiously. “Why didn't you just come in? You never used to knock before.”

Draco looked over her, avoiding meeting her eyes. “Could you get dressed and meet me in your
receiving room? There is something urgent I have to discuss with you.”

Dianne looked at him oddly before nodding. “All right. I'll only be a minute.” She
didn't close the door behind her as she swiftly went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Draco only waited 30 minutes before Dianne glided in, hair and make-up perfectly done. She
looked every inch the society witch with her bright printed morning dress, her feet encased in
dainty flesh colored sandals.

“I forgot to ask you where you were last night,” she asked lightly, gracefully seating herself
across from him, tucking her legs under her chair properly. “I tried looking for you but you just
disappeared.”

Draco cleared his throat. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Dianne sighed. “Don't tell me you went off with some random witch again. Really, Draco, you
need to practice self-control. How would it look if it got out that you deserted your wife-to-be in
favor of tumbling some woman you just met in some seedy hotel? We have an image to protect in
society, you know.”

Draco gritted his teeth in frustration. “I did not *tumble* anyone last night! And even if
I did, don't you think society would be more concerned about your lackadaisical attitude
towards that?”

Dianne gave him a placating smile. “Nonsense. You know very well that discreet extra-marital
relations are accepted among our circles. Now, something is troubling you. You know you can tell me
anything, sweetheart.”

Draco visibly flinched at the syrupy sweet voice she was using. He hated it when she was
treating him like a child with a temper tantrum; she was a few years older, yes, but he wasn't
exactly walking around in diapers either!

“I came to talk to you about our engagement.” Draco took a deep breath before mustering up his
courage; if she can be this nonplussed by his disappearance, then really, she shouldn't be too
surprised that he was ending their engagement. “I'm afraid that I can't go through with it,
Dianne.” There, that should be simple enough for anyone to understand.

Dianne was quiet only for a few seconds. “Don't be ridiculous, Draco.” Her tone was still
calm and sweet and reasonable. “Why would you think that? We agreed that getting married was the
best thing for both of us.”

“That was before last night,” he blurted out. “Last night changed everything.”

Dianne was quiet for longer than a few seconds this time. “Was it because of those two children
at the Ministry?” she asked quite calmly, looking Draco straight in the eye.

“How'd you guess?” he said lamely.

Dianne shrugged. “I didn't, actually, but I'm not blind, Dray. I had my suspicions about
who they were when I saw them, but I didn't think much of it. I was more intrigued about
Moira's familiarity with them.” She looked contemplative for a moment. “So they're the
reason you're breaking things off between us?” she finally asked, looking at Draco with eyes
that dared him to lie.

Draco thought discretion was the better part of valor and nodded. “I didn't know about them
until last night; my father never told me. I want to be a part of their lives, Dianne, and I
can't do that if I go through with marrying you.”

She looked at Draco thoughtfully and he began to feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He
wasn't normally so skittish around females, *any* female for that matter, with the
exception of his mother, but he wanted Dianne to understand he wasn't doing this because he was
out to hurt her. He had such high regard for her, despite his contempt for her loose beliefs on the
union that was marriage; he didn't want her to hate him for such insignificant reasons as him
being an insensitive ass.

Finally, she nodded. “I guess I can understand where you're coming from. I'm sure if I
think about this more later, I just might conjure up some feeling of irritation for messing what
would have been a good alliance. But I have to admit that I never really pictured myself as a
mother. And you'd probably expect me to act motherly to those two if we do get married, am I
correct?”

No, she wasn't correct; he didn't think along those lines at all: If he married Dianne,
Ginny would probably *Fidelius* herself and his children just to spite him. Nevertheless, he
nodded at Dianne's foresight; she was handing him a free get-yourself-out card, and he
wasn't foolish enough to refuse the freebie.

Dianne sighed. “Just as I thought. Very well. Consider yourself unengaged then. Merlin knows I
have no wish to go maternal all of a sudden.” She smiled sweetly at Draco. “It's a good thing
you found out about them before we got married. Divorce is such an ugly thing, don't you
think?”

Draco marveled at Dianne's blasé manner; at the same time he was thankful she was the way
she was. He didn't know how he would have handled it if she got all emotional on him. He
didn't mind fending off hexes from irate females, but emotional outbursts were something else
altogether.

Standing up, he approached Dianne and drew her out of her seat to give her a tight hug. “Thank
you. You truly are a remarkable woman.”

Dianne laughed and returned his embrace. “If I were a remarkable woman, Dray, I would be telling
you that you having children didn't matter to me, that I would be prepared to welcome them and
treat them like my own. Don't get me wrong.” She broke the hug and gave him a stern look. “I
*adore* children, just as long as they're somebody else's. I simply have no time for
one of my own.”

Draco shook his head. “Really, Dianne, you'll be a good mother someday. You just haven't
met the man able to change your mind about that.”

“You'll believe what you want to believe, darling,” she stated laughing. “Now get out of
here! Go play fraternal or whatever it is you fathers do with your children. And here, take this
with you.” She pulled off the engagement ring Draco had given her just a few days ago.

Draco closed his hands around hers. “Keep it. Something to remember me by.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What do I need this for? We're not getting married, and I
don't need the extra cash it would give me should I hock it.”

Draco grinned at her. “Consider it a donation to one of your causes then; you have enough of
them that refusing to accept that little bauble would be more than foolish.” He bent and kissed
both her cheeks. “Now I have to leave; there's someone I have to go pay a little visit to this
morning.”

Dianne nodded. “All right. I'll see you around then, Draco. Best of luck, darling.”

For a moment, Draco wondered why he'd ever thought Dianne would make a fuss about a broken
engagement. He'd been attracted to her from the first moment he met her, true, but he had
cherished the closeness they'd shared as friends more than the closeness they'd enjoyed
together as lovers. Which should have warned him even before he'd gone and asked Dianne to
marry him; she was a friend, a relationship he'd never wanted from a female before. It
explained why he was so reluctant to hurt her feelings and yet, still find ways and means to do
just that; it also explained why she couldn't find it in her to react the way a fiancée would
towards her affianced's roving eye.

“I do - *care -* for you, you know that right?” Draco asked solemnly.

Dianne smiled tremulously and, grasping his face in both hands, gave him an affectionate kiss on
the lips. “If you could only see your face right now, darling,” she said quietly, her smile
breaking off into an impudent grin. “You and I are two of a kind, aren't we? Both so afraid to
show how we really feel.” She wrapped her arms around Draco and gave him one last kiss on the side
of his neck. “I will always be here for you, Draco. Remember that,” she whispered.

Draco nodded and squeezed her back tightly before letting her go. “I have to go.” With one last
lingering touch to her cheeks, he disapparated, his heart lighter than it had ever felt for
years.

Dianne's smile lingered for a few minutes more after Draco had gone. She was truly glad for
her ex-fiancé; it was a shame that the intimate side to their relationship had to end, but if her
sacrifice meant that the man who had come to mean more than a lover to her would be happy, truly
happy for a change, then she wasn't going to be losing sleep over something as inconsequential
as a broken engagement. She had known beforehand that she could never completely satisfy whatever
it was that Draco needed, though she would have tried. Now? Well, now she didn't have to try so
very hard for him.

Of course, there was still her father she would have to explain to. Two highly touted,
*broken* engagements in five years. At least this time around, she could say with a straight
face it wasn't her who broke it off. But she highly doubted whether that little detail would
matter much to Winston Bradford Winters.

The smile quickly fell from her lips when she remembered her first failed engagement. It was a
memory she had successfully buried beneath numerous affairs and a very active social and civic
life. It had been five years after all; surely she could think about the whys of its failure
without going into another rut. But the pesky twinge of pain that pricked at her heart would not be
ignored for what it was.

Squaring her shoulders, Dianne pushed the memory back into the far recess of her mind. It
didn't matter now anyway; she was a grown woman and she would go on like she did before. Her
father could bluster all he want, but in the end, the decision was all hers; he would just have to
live with her choices. And maybe, it was also time she tried to stand on her own without a man by
her side? As an emotional crutch, the male of the species really wasn't all they were cracked
up to be.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Your messages, Ms. Welsh.”

Ginny looked up from the paper she was reading and eyed the pile of notes her butler carried.
She was having breakfast in her private parlour, in her opinion the second best part of the home
she had created for herself.

Folding the paper, she nodded in acknowledgment at her starchy but dependable butler.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She didn't waste time and started flipping through the pile right
away.

They were more of the same, her messages. One was from her chief financial adviser, Anthony
Wendon, about a potential investment; there was one from Sarah, Nick, *Dianne Winters*, of all
people, and one from George. There were other messages, but they weren't as important, or
curious in the case of Dianne Winters, so the rest of the pile she set aside for later perusal.

After reading through Mr. Wendon's message, she made a small notation at the bottom of the
page before refolding the crisp business correspondence. As expected, Sarah's note was
inquiries about her whereabouts, while Nick's was a sweet reminder that he would always think
of her. George had called up to tell her that should she ever think of staging a comeback, she
should look no further than him to help her out with that.

As Ginny read Dianne's message, she was hard-pressed not to laugh. There was every
likelihood that Dianne didn't know about Ginny's relationship with her fiancé, but really,
they had very little else in common aside from their biblical knowledge of the same man. Well,
*that,* and they had the same interest in charitable works, they probably shared more than a
few acquaintances, they basically moved in the same social circles now, *and*, if the rumor
she heard about her was right, they also had an uncommon fondness for lasagna. But really, was that
anything to base a friendship on?

Ginny glared at the written words on expensive parchment; even Dianne's penmanship grated on
her nerves. It was surely presumptuous of her to offer they become bosom buddies. Where the hell
did she come off being so damned nice, anyway? Dianne Winters was *so* sweet Ginny could
honestly swear she was getting a toothache just from reading the socialite's letter.

She debated whether to tear the letter to shreds, toss it to the fire or mount it on a block so
she could have something to glare at all day without feeling guilty about acting so petty.

“I can see that your morning is off to a good start.”

She looked up to see Colin, looking as fresh as the freshly cut combination of peach and white
roses arranged carelessly in a Waterford crystal bowl set in the middle of her breakfast table.
There were days where she felt the urge to also mount Colin on a block and just watch to see how
long it would take before he started wilting; she felt confident that since she hadn't given in
to that particular fetish, she just might have enough self-control to keep herself from obsessing
over the incongruous letter one pesky little socialite saw fit to send her.

“Hey, Col.”

Her greeting was so lackluster that Colin staggered back dramatically, right hand clutching his
left chest. “I'm touched by the depths of your delight at seeing humble old me. Control
yourself, my dear, I can only take so much enthusiasm.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend. “That's why you could never be an actor, Creevey; you
not only *suck*, you stink worse than my brother's dungbombs.” She waved the letter she
had yet to put down at the blond and motioned for him to take the place opposite her. “Sit. I want
to know where your ass was last night.”

Colin plopped down on the wrought iron chair with the comfortable silk covered cushions and
sighed contentedly. “This is nice,” he practically purred; he looked so relaxed, he was in danger
of sliding right off the furniture and into the floor in a puddle of Oxford shirt and denims.

Ginny gave him The Look. “You know what would be nicer? If you would kindly start talking and
explain where you'd gone to last night. You promised to stay close to me.”

Colin ignored The Look and frowned; his friend was acting oddly, even more than the usual, that
is. “What's wrong with you? Why are you such a bitch this morning?”

Ginny shut her mouth. She wanted to snap at Colin but she knew he was right; she was taking her
irritation out on him, and all because of a stupid letter.

“I'm sorry,” she finally said, avoiding looking at her best friend.

Colin dismissed her apology as trivial with a little flick of the wrist. “Never mind that now;
tell me what's up your arse.”

Ginny bit her lip and debated whether to come clean to her friend. In the end, the choice was
taken from her when Colin snatched Dianne's letter from her hands. She didn't say anything
as she waited for him to finish reading the message penned by Draco's fiancée, observing the
varying expressions that crossed his face.

It felt like forever before Colin finished reading the letter; in truth, it took him no more
than two minutes, but waiting for him to say anything about Draco's fiancée's -
*suggestion -* was a bit too much for Ginny. She wasn't a patient person at the best of
times, and this day wasn't one of those better times.

“Well?” She watched as Colin folded the letter meticulously, following the original creases of
the paper; she barely resisted the urge to shake him out of his composure. “Do you have anything to
say about what you just read?”

“When did you get that?” he asked, giving the letter back to her.

Ginny looked at him incredulously. “That's it? That's all you have to say?”

It was Colin's turn to roll his eyes. “Gin, it's just a letter; don't let it get
your knickers in a twist.”

Ginny huffed indignantly. “My knickers are just fine, thank you very much!”

Colin ignored her and helped himself to some coffee and sausages. “Coulda fooled me,” he mumbled
under his breath, resuming his previous position.

Ginny shook her head. “I cannot believe you're treating this so lightly.”

Colin swallowed first, took a sip of the rich brew, before answering. “And I cannot believe that
you're fretting about it. Look, Gin, there are two ways you can deal with this: One is,
obviously, the way you're handling it. Or two, you could take Dianne up on her offer. Simple
really.”

“Of course I don't want to become that woman's best friend!” Ginny declared, outraged
that Colin even made that suggestion.

“There you go then!” He took another gulp of the coffee; he looked momentarily as though he had
just tasted ambrosia, his eyes closed in utter bliss. When he opened them again, he couldn't
help but sigh. “Gin, no one will blame you if you refuse to be friends with Dianne Winters. Under
the circumstances, you have every right to be a bitch to her.”

Ginny frowned. She knew that tone of Colin's; whenever he used that tone with her, there was
always a catch involved. “I know there's a but in there somewhere.”

Colin shrugged. “What do you really have to lose? If you make an effort to befriend the woman
who will eventually be the wife of your children's father, people will see that you are the
bigger person in this conflicted love triangle of yours. I'm not saying you should invite her
to dinner, or start planning sleepovers or anything like that,” he quickly amended before Ginny
could start in on him. “All I'm saying is that in the end, you will feel better about
yourself.”

“What have I got to lose? *What* have I got to lose?! My sanity for one thing!” She stood
abruptly and started pacing. “And whatever gave you the idea that I wanted to be the *bigger
person?*” she said, mimicking Colin's tone. Whirling around, she faced Colin who had sat
forward, looking at her with intense blue eyes. “It's bad enough that people expect me to be
nice all the time. I'm sick and tired of all this shit! For once I want to be as much of a
bitch as I possibly can be and not feel guilty about it!”

Colin snorted. “Yeah, right. I might know of a few people who already think you to be quite the
bitch: Clara from Accounting, Maxine Porter, Gustav Pachenko. And let's not forget Jeff
Atkins.”

Ginny folded her arms and frowned at Colin. “What's your point?”

“That I love you to death, but you're no angel,” he answered, with the sensitivity of a
blunt battle-axe. “You might *look* like an angel, but we both know there's more to a body
than its physical appearance.” He stood up and placed his arms around Ginny, steering her over to
the wide-open French windows to look over at the gardens just visible to the far left side of where
they were. “When I look at that,” he pointed at the garden, “do you know what immediately comes to
mind for me?”

Ginny looked at where Colin was pointing. The gardens was Ginny's personal pet project, and
had a hand in its creation from the word go. She personally selected every shrubbery, flower and
tree that were planted in it, and would not be swayed when the landscapers had told her that it
would be next to impossible to put in a life-sized waterfall with the remaining land area available
to them, especially if they hoped to keep its existence from muggle eyes.

She had been adamant about getting her way. She had once gone on vacation in South East Asia and
had seen one of most beautiful waterfalls she would ever set her eyes on, and fell in love with it
right away. She could not get the picture of that waterfall out of her mind, and had vowed that
should she ever have the opportunity to buy land large enough to accommodate her dream, she was
going to recreate the waterfall of her dreams right in her own backyard.

Her landscape artist told her no.

He gave her a lake instead. And told her to go fly or apparate across the globe if she wanted to
see that waterfall again, but there was no way on Merlin's wrinkled arse was he going to even
attempt such a monstrosity.

In a rare fit of irrational temper, something with which Ginny hadn't allowed herself to
indulge in for quite some time, she had fired the man on the spot. Since becoming Moira Welsh, no
one had dared say no to her. Granted, she had never acted so unreasonably before, but still,
appearances had to be kept.

Colin merely hired the artist right back, telling her to stop pouting and leaving them to go at
it again. Oddly enough though, after that initial unpleasantness, she and Jonathan had become quite
good friends. And she had loved her lake; it was no waterfall by any stretch of the imagination,
but she had learned to make lemonade out of the lemons Jonathan had given her.

She looked now at the masterpiece before her and wondered what Colin thought about it. “It's
- pretty?”

The corners of Colin's lips lifted wistfully. “Not quite. That garden is you, Gin. Not
because you helped create it, but everything about it is you. It's beautiful to look at,
peaceful, enchanting, but if you make the mistake of thinking that it's harmless, you might
never get out of it alive.” He squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. “The dangers in that garden is
only to those who dare trespass where they're not wanted, but we both know that at any time,
the creatures in it will strike friend or foe should the need ever arise?”

“What are you saying, Colin?” Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you telling me I have
multiple personality or something? Because I assure you, I have only been semi-possessed once and
have taken extra measures not to find myself in the same predicament again.”

Colin knew Ginny wasn't being purposely dense; he knew it had never occurred to her that
contrary to popular belief, she wasn't the nicest apple in the cart, and all those who mattered
already knew that, and didn't care.

“I'm saying that we love you just the way you are, warts and all.” He chuckled at the face
she made at him. “We know what you can be like, and it doesn't matter to us. I know you've
never cared about public opinion, except where your twins are concerned, and your family and
friends, of course, and though you might think that you've been treading carefully around
everybody, I want to tell you that you haven't really been all too successful with your
attempts, so you should just stop trying. Be as much of a bitch as you want to be. You've
earned it. You can hate whoever you want to hate, just as long as you don't use any
Unforgivable while expressing that emotion.”

Ginny sighed and dropped her head on Colin's shoulder. “I *have* been a bitch,
haven't I?” She gazed at nothing in particular as she contemplated her life up to that moment.
“Do you think I'm right in snubbing Dianne's offer of friendship then?”

Colin shrugged. “Like I told you, you have a right to do whatever it is you want to do. Just
keep in mind though that it would be much better to accept and forgive your enemies; nothing annoys
them so much as that.”

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. “I can just imagine Draco's face if I do that. It would
be a picture perfect moment, I'm sure.” Suddenly, she straightened as though she'd just had
an epiphany. “You know what, Col, I don't really hate Dianne. No, really, I don't!” she
insisted at the disbelieving look on her friend's face. “She irritates the hell out of me, yes,
but she doesn't inspire the kind of animosity I feel towards somebody like, say, Pansy
Parkinson. Now, that's one slag I wouldn't mind doing a stint in Azkaban for.”

“Bite your tongue, woman!” Colin admonished, giving Ginny a reproving look. “You might look good
in anything, but I don't think even you could pull off standard Azkaban issued stripes. Now go
back to your breakfast and cease this talk about women who've been in the sack with Draco. You
don't need to diet, so you don't need a reason to lose your appetite or vomit what
you've already had down your gullet.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. “Yes, *Dad.*”

“That's real mature, Gin, possibly ancient,” Colin told her caustically, resuming his place
across from his friend. “Maybe you can meet up with Dianne somewhere private and stick your tongue
out at her too, after you tell her where she can shove her offer of friendship.”

In answer, Ginny speared a fat juicy sausage and bit down on it, *hard,* laughing when
Colin winced at her suggestive action.

They were well on the way to finishing the spread of eggs, toast, kippers, bangers and mash on
the table when Ginny realized Colin had not answered her question when he'd first arrived.

“You never did tell me why you suddenly went MIA on me last night,” Ginny reminded him, daintily
wiping her lips with her napkin.

Colin's eyes grew wide as he remembered what it was he'd wanted to tell Ginny. “Oh
Merlin, I can't believe I forgot about Sarah!”

“What about Sarah? Have you heard from her too? She told me she was going to be visiting her
parents for a while, but I received a note from her this morning. Did something happen?” Ginny was
starting to worry about her friend. When she'd left the US, Sarah had been in the middle of a
crisis, and she'd hated not being there for her. If something *had* happened to her, she
would never forgive herself.

Colin shook his head frantically, shooting to his feet in his agitation. “No, no, nothing like
that. But she was the reason I wasn't around last night. I got a call from Kevyn, you know, my
detective friend? Anyway, to make a long story short, Sarah's here!”

Ginny was bothered enough by Colin's squeak for her to look over her shoulder to make sure
that the here he meant wasn't actually *here* here. Satisfied that no Sarah Carter was
loitering around behind her, she looked to him for clarification.

“You're not making sense, Colin? *Have* you seen Sarah?”

Colin nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! She's in my apartment. And Merlin knows what she's
probably up to right now! I had quite a time of it last night, explaining to her why I kept
disappearing without going through a door. She even wanted to check whether I had a fire escape
exit or whatever the hell she called it, installed in my bedroom.”

As Colin was talking, Ginny was beginning to jump into panic mode. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn't tell her anything, of course! I just laughed and changed the subject. But you know
how she is, Gin. I can't keep her in my place for long. She's liable to found out
everything on her own, or else I'd break down and just tell her if only to scare her into
shutting up. You have to get her off my hands!”

Ginny worried her lip, thinking furiously. As was her tendency whenever she was deep in thought,
she tucked her legs under her and started tapping her fingers on her thighs. What was she going to
do? She had not anticipated this visit of Sarah's, at least not this soon; it didn't even
seem as though she'd spent any time at all in Kansas like she'd said she would.

She could always ask the younger woman to stay with her in Welsh Manor, of course, but then
there were complications to that idea as well, a huge complication by the name of Lucius Malfoy.
She wouldn't want to compound Sarah's emotional crisis by adding corporeal problems to it
as well. But then again, faced with being transfigured into whatever form Lucius fancied at the
moment, heart problems might seem trivial to Sarah in the end.

Shaking her head to clear it from such terrible thoughts, she looked up at Colin.

“I suppose I could talk to Lucius? You know, to ensure that he won't suddenly go trigger
happy with such an attractive target in sight,” she suggested, injecting as much hopefulness into
her tone as she could.

Colin snorted again. “Good luck with that! I'd like to see you try and make that man toe the
line.”

Ginny's tapping bordered on the manic state already. “He's not that bad, really. I'm
sure he'll behave himself once I tell him how imperative it is that Sarah not be turned into a
toad. Or hexed with boils. Or be constantly called the M word.” Ginny was reaching, she knew it,
but what can you do when all hell was about to break loose?

Colin shook his head at her. “Gin, I'd walk through live coals barefoot for you, but your
Lucius situation is one I am staying the hell away from. Talk to him, threaten him, bribe him,
hell, *Imperio* him for all I care, but you know as well as I do that the very air that man
breathes makes me want to reach for my wand in self defense.” He looked wild for a moment as a
vision of Lucius came to mind; he shivered. “You can be sure there won't be any sudden
unannounced visits from me as long as that man is living here.”

Ginny sent him a disgusted glare, her worry set aside for a moment. “Don't be such a coward,
Colin! Lucius is not a rabid dog who'll pounce on you without the least bit of provocation.
You're being nonsensical!”

“Ha! That's a matter of opinion, my dear. You say tomato, I say pumpkin, Hagrid's
variety! I'd rather be safe than sorry.”

“Oh please! Forget about yourself for a moment and help me find a way to convince Lucius not to
be, well, *Lucius.* I'm sure if we put our heads together, we'll come up with a
way.”

“You can grow another head and that still won't be able to help you with *your*
dilemma.”

Ginny didn't miss Colin's emphasis on your, and much as she would want to feel betrayed
and abandoned by her best friend at such a time as then, she couldn't really blame him for his
reticence towards the older wizard. Lucius may not be technically evil now, but he was also not
helping his image any by appearing to be the same vicious Death Eater of old. The former Death
Eater probably enjoyed the way people feared him still, and if she didn't know him any better
now, she would assume the fascist in him got off on that fact alone.

“There must be a way,” she said quietly and to herself. “I could get his word, of course, then
ask him to do a Wizard's Oath for insurance, but that still leaves me with the problem of how
to get him to agree to do the oath in the first place.”

After nearly fours years of getting to know the wizard, it never really occurred to Ginny that
all she needed to do was ask; Lucius was in enough hot water with Narcissa that only by being in
his best behavior could he pacify some of his wife's anger towards him. If ignoring the
presence of a Muggle in the home of his grandchildren could in any way ingratiate him back in his
wife's favor, then he wasn't above doing that. Of course, he'd curse anyone to within
an inch of their miserable life if they so much as voice that any part of him was getting soft; he
was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's were never soft. Ever.

“Whatever you decide to do, you'd better do it quick. You have until noon before you add one
more to your guest list. And if I were you, I'd throw in a healthy dose of prayer while
you're at it. Now's your time to consider the benefits of religion.”

In her agitation, Ginny did the one thing she swore she'd never do again. And before they
left her parlor, she had to add fixing her abused nails to her list of chores that needed doing
that fine Saturday morning.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you ready, Narcissa?”

Narcissa ignored her husband and went on combing her hair. She was in her dressing gown, and
contrary to what she had already agreed (to) with Lucius, she had no intention of getting
ready.

“Narcissa?” Lucius poked his head inside his wife's door to see what was taking her so long
to get ready. Frowning when he saw she hadn't even taken the time to get dressed, he advanced
inside the room and stood behind her. “Why are you still in your bed robes? I thought we agreed on
going at 10, and it is already 15 minutes past the hour. What's wrong?”

Narcissa calmly lay down her comb and stood up. “I have no intention of letting you drag me
anywhere, Lucius. I am staying right here where I can go see my grandchildren any time I want.
Merlin knows you'd probably move us to Timbuktu if I let you.”

Lucius sighed. “Cissa, can we not do this right now? I already said I was sorry. I did swear to
make it up to you didn't I?”

Narcissa glared at him. “Then you can start by staying put. Why would moving us be making it up
for depriving me of my babies?”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “They are not your babies, Cissa,
they're Draco's. And we *are* moving, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming
and in your dressing gown. You know I never say anything I don't mean.”

“You do and I'll make sure you'll live to regret it for the rest of your sorry life!”
she vowed fiercely, backing away from him. Her eyes widened when Lucius advanced on her. “What -
what are you doing?”

“Moving.” And without another word, he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and
disapparated them both out of Malfoy Manor.

As soon as Narcissa felt her feet touch solid ground once again, she freed herself from her
husband's grip and rounded on him.

“You bastard! You good for nothing, misbegotten spawn of Grindelwald! I cannot believe you would
dare do this to me!” She whipped her wand out and tried to disapparate. When she realized that she
couldn't, her anger became something to behold. “I demand you take me back right now! Take me
back!”

“Really, Narcissa, you're causing quite a scene. I thought showing any excess emotion to the
servants was uncouth?” Lucius said calmly, arching a brow at her in challenge.

Narcissa snapped her lips shut and gave her husband a look that would have sent a lesser mortal
running for his life; Lucius merely smirked at her. True enough, there were more than one pair of
eyes witnessing her descent into unacceptable behavior.

“Lucius? Is everything all right?”

Narcissa whirled around at hearing that familiar voice. When she confirmed that it was, indeed,
Ginevra Weasley, a frown marred her smooth forehead. What was going on?

“As can be expected, Ginevra.” He brushed past his wife and gave Ginny a kiss on the cheeks in
greeting. “As you can obviously see, Narcissa hasn't been inclined to kindness towards me after
what I have done to her.”

Ginny gave the confused Narcissa an understanding smile. “I did tell you, didn't I?” she
told him archly before moving forward and extending a welcoming hand to the disoriented woman.
“Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa said automatically, before remembering she didn't exactly know where
they were. “Where am I?”

“My home,” she answered simply. “I don't think you've met Colin?”

Narcissa saw a handsome young man come forward.

Colin wanted to kick Ginny for calling attention to him. Narcissa didn't really scare him,
but that didn't mean he wanted to create any impression on the pureblood aristocrat, good or
bad. He'd much rather remain the unknown entity in Ginny's life, thank you very much.

“Narcissa, would you mind very much if I borrowed Lucius for a few minutes? I have something I
wanted to talk to him about.” Without waiting for her consent, Ginny grabbed Lucius and ushered him
out of the entrance hall and into the Pink Salon.

“What is so important that you have to torture me with all this pinkness?” Lucius had always
hated this room for its sheer femininity.

Ginny ignored him and motioned for him to sit down. When he did, she started pacing in front of
him, wringing her hands, not knowing where to start talking.

“What is it, Ginevra?” Lucius asked patiently, watching her pace.

Ginny peered at him and debated whether to just come out and say it, or whether she had to start
offering him concessions first. There was always the off chance that he would be agreeable, though
from the earlier scene she had witnessed, she didn't think he would be in the right frame of
mind to be reasonable.

Lucius was beginning to worry. Ginny wasn't one to procrastinate, and if what she had to say
to him was troubling her so much, then it must be something truly dire.

“Is it the children? Did something happen?”

“What? No!” Ginny denied immediately. “It's not them. But in a way it has something to do
with them.”

“What?”

Ginny decided to just say it and see where the truth takes her. “Luke and Nicole's aunt is
coming over to stay with me for I don't know how long.”

Lucius waited for Ginny to say more. When she didn't, he prodded her. “So?”

Ginny started pacing again. “Well, she's really more their honorary aunt, you know?
She's one of my good friends, and the twins love her, and I'm sure that if you get to know
her, you'll probably learn to like her too.”

Lucius didn't understand what Ginny was so distressed about. “Then what's the problem?
I'm sure you have another room available for her, and if, as you say, the twins are fond of
her, shouldn't you be happy that she'll be visiting them?”

“She's a Muggle, Lucius.”

That shut him up but good. A Muggle? His grandchildren had a Muggle for an aunt? Granted, an
honorary one, but still: A Muggle!

“I see.”

Ginny looked at him apprehensively. “That's why it's such a problem for me. I know how
you feel about them, but I really can't let Sarah stay anywhere else.”

“Then are you telling me you've changed your mind about letting us stay here?” His tone was
calm, but inside he wanted to start cursing anything that moved.

“No! I don't want that either! That wouldn't solve anything, anyway.”

“Then what do you propose we do, Ginevra?”

Ginny took a deep breath and plunged in. “I want your promise that you won't do anything to
her while she's here - ”

“Done,” Lucius lied smoothly, the expression on his face unchanging.

“ - and I want you to do a Wizard's Oath, just in case.”

He stared at Ginny, admiring her sheer gall; if it were anyone else, he would have already
reached for his wand for insinuating that his word wasn't good enough. Of course, in
Voldemort's time, he would lie through his teeth in most of his dealings, but it was either
that or die. Later on, after the dust had settled, he had endeavored to be as truthful as he
possibly could. But to expect him to swear to treat a Muggle civilly all the time, and to enter
into a binding contract to prove his sincerity, was asking too much of him.

“Don't you trust me, Ginevra?” he drawled lazily, reclining on his seat as though he had no
care in the world.

Ginny folded her arms and smirked at Lucius. “Not where Sarah is concerned, no. You're not
getting out of this room until I get an oath from you.”

Lucius shot out of his chair and towered over Ginny. “You are asking too much of me, young lady.
It may seem that my behavior towards you has modified over time, but you are truly pushing your
luck.” He wasn't shouting, but the threat was still there in his tone.

Ginny pushed him back in his chair. “You don't scare me, Lucius, so don't bother. Now,
do I get my oath, or will I have to leave you here until you do decide to go easy on yourself?”

Lucius glared at the unmoved witch.

“Come on, you don't have to spend all day with her. You'll know she's here, but you
don't even have to see her,” Ginny cajoled. “I'll put her rooms as far away from yours, I
promise.”

Lucius still looked mutinous.

“She's a tourist anyway, so she's probably going to be spending all her time outside the
premises. You know, visiting tourist spots? You'll never have to see her.”

Lucius now looked contemplative, and Ginny waited for him to concede. Things could have been
worse, of course; there was always the possibility that this Sarah person would decide to stay
indefinitely, and if that happened, then it would be Italy for them, even if Narcissa would never
forgive him again for moving so far away.

“Do you swear you'll keep her away from me?” he asked grudgingly.

Ginny nodded right away. “I promise.”

“And you were saying the truth when you said she would only be staying a few days here?”

“Yes.”

“I can still complain about her though, right? Or Muggles in general?”

“Complain all you want. You're just forbidden to curse her, hex her, or call her any
derogatory word pertaining to her blood,” Ginny enumerated quickly.

Lucius sulked for a few seconds before drawing out his wand. “Fine. Let's get this over
with.”

Delighted, Ginny drew out her own wand and quickly went through the motions before he changed
his mind. When the Wizard's Oath was over, she squealed and gave him a brief hug.

“Come, let's get you and Narcissa settled.”

That they didn't take long to finish their business was a good thing. As soon as Ginny and
Lucius had disappeared, leaving Colin with the perplexed Narcissa, it wasn't long before the
blonde woman was eyeing Colin suspiciously. It didn't take long for him to find out what was
going through the woman's mind.

“Are you Ginevra's lover?”

Colin's eyes widened in abject horror, mingled with a dash of disgust. “No!”

Narcissa pursed her lips in even more disapproval. “Well. If you were hoping to someday be
Ginevra's lover, then I'm telling you right now that my son may have something to say about
that. It's only a matter of time before they get back together.”

Colin ignored the disgust he'd felt about ever being in such a position as being Ginny's
lover and quirked a brow at the confident woman before him, a haughty woman who was wearing nothing
but her dressing gown, albeit an expensive one.

“Seeing as Draco's already engaged to someone else, I don't think he'd be in a
position to dictate who Ginny takes to her bed, do you?”

Narcissa's nose flared in indignation. “Well! See here, young man! I don't care who you
think you are, but I won't have you talking to me like that! She is the mother of my
grandchildren and - ”

“Draco treated her like shit,” Colin finished for her. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, but it's
true. Even if Draco hadn't gone and gotten himself engaged to someone else, I don't see how
he could ever make up for all the hurtful things he said and did to her.”

“Who *are* you?” she said softly, really looking at Colin for the first time and wondering
whether it really was too late for her son to make amends.

“I'm Ginny's best friend, and the twin's godfather. Don't worry, the only way
I'll ever be attracted to Ginny is if she grew herself a penis.”

His bluntness had Narcissa blushing like a Weasley. “You mean you're - ?”

Colin nodded. “Gay, yeah.”

If anything, the color on her cheeks grew some more. Then to Colin's amusement, Narcissa
began to look at him now with something akin to awe in her eyes. “I've never met a gay man
before.”

“We're not a myth, I assure you,” Colin said gravely. “We do exist.”

The color was still high on Narcissa's cheeks when Ginny and Lucius emerged from the Pink
Salon. Lucius, seeing the unnatural color on his wife's face, rushed to her side.

“What's wrong, Narcissa? Are you all right?”

Narcissa moved her eyes from Colin to her husband's. “He's gay, Lucius. He told me
so.”

Lucius was baffled. “Who is?”

Narcissa nodded at Colin. “Him.”

Lucius turned to look at Colin and smirked. “Of course he is. Don't you know he presides
over the Harry Potter Fan Club?”

Narcissa pursed her lips at him. “I am not jesting, Lucius. He really *is* gay! And
he's our grandchildren's godfather. Did you know that?”

It was Lucius' turn to purse his lips. “Unfortunately, Ginevra could not be dissuaded from
going through with making him one of the twin's godfathers, as well as Potter. But I did manage
to get Zabini in as well, if only to even out the unfairness of it all.” He smirked at the way
Ginny was looking at him. “Since Draco could not be there, I took the liberty of pointing out that
he would have insisted Blaise be godfather as well.”

“Which is why the christening was three hours late,” Ginny snapped at him.

“Ah, but if you'd given in, my dear, there would have been no need for a discussion.” Lucius
looked so smug Ginny wanted to hit him, just to make a point.

“You were at the christening?” Narcissa asked. “You were actually there?”

“Not *during*. I arrived after the ceremony was over. I should have said I *persuaded*
someone to convince Ginny to include Blaise.”

Ginny snorted. “By someone he meant my mother.” She smiled at him evilly as soon as Narcissa
turned and gave him a what-are-you-trying-to-keep-from-me look. “I have already left instructions
as to your accommodations. Now if you'll excuse Colin and I, we have somewhere else to be this
morning. Good day Narcissa. Lucius.”

Taking Colin's arm, they left the couple. But they were still within earshot when Narcissa
started demanding Lucius tell her what exactly he and Molly Weasley talked about.

“You are truly evil, you know that,” Colin said, chuckling merrily.

“I have my moments,” Ginny said, looking like the cat that ate the cream *and* the
canary.

“Did you get it then?”

“Did you really think I'd let Lucius out of the Pink Salon if I didn't?”

Colin laughed. “Evil! Pure evil!”

“And you'd better not forget it.” And with a last flirtatious look at her best friend, she
disapparated.

Still chuckling, Colin did the same.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Like I've already told you, Mr. Merryweather, I only do the legwork. If you want to take
care of this problem of yours permanently, look elsewhere for the solution. There's not enough
galleons in your account to make me do that for you.” William Chauncy frowned at the handset as the
voice on the other line rose exponentially. “Listen here, Merryweather: You hired me to do a job,
*one* job, and I've fulfilled my end of the bargain; it's not my fault you can't
keep your wife happy. If you ask me, you should have kept your balls playing in your home team,
maybe then the Mrs. wouldn't have had reason to stray! Oh, don't give me that shit, you
sanctimonious prick! I know all about that little apartment you keep in London. Yeah? Well, screw
you too!”

The loud crashing sound made when the phone crashed down on its receiver gave William Chauncy
immense satisfaction. His mood was worse than black, and the unfortunate person who was foolish
enough to cross him while he was in this mood would probably wish they'd never been born.

“I see I've come at a bad time.”

Or not.

Slowly, William turned around and looked towards the source of the voice, a voice he'd hoped
never to hear from again. Was it really asking too much for the gods above to give him a break once
in a while?

“Mr. Malfoy! How may I be of service to you this morning?”

Draco took a moment to enjoy the squirming of the man before him; William Chauncy had a lot to
answer for, and he, Draco Malfoy, was not going to let him rest until he was good and ready. In
fact, he had no problem with getting his pound of flesh off this way, for starters anyway.

William Chauncy had met a lot of terrifying people in his career, but none had ever made him as
uncomfortable as the man standing just inside the door to his office. It was ludicrous, really, but
you never know when it comes to a Malfoy.

Draco tapped his wand nonchalantly against his palm. “I have a question I need to ask you,
Chauncy.”

“Of course, of course! And what might that be, my lord?” William inwardly cringed at how
cheerful he was coming off.

Draco's brow rose at the way the other wizard addressed him, news certainly traveled fast,
but ignored it for the moment; what he came there for was far more important than some silly title.
He advanced into the room, idly twirling his wand in his hand. “If I remember correctly, I had
contracted you for a job oh, when was that?”

William Chauncy knew then he was right to be afraid. “That would be four years ago?”

“You seem uncertain. Are you sure you have the years correct? No, don't answer that, I
*know* it's been four years.” He stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms
across his chest. “And in that four years, do you recall ever giving me any pertinent information
about the matter I wanted you to look into?”

William nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes I did,” he said with some relief. “I came to your place and
left a message with your butler; I didn't get his name - ”

“No you did not!” Draco exploded in fury, his hands fisted at his sides, his wand hand trembling
from his efforts of keeping from cursing the balding older wizard before him.

William stood up and put up his hands. “Mr. Malfoy, please, you need to calm down,” he said
gently, trying to placate the enraged younger man.

“Don't tell me to calm down! Would you calm down if you suddenly find yourself fathering
twins!” he bellowed angrily.

“Mr. Malfoy, please!” William warily kept one eye fixed on the gleaming piece of wood on Draco
Malfoy's right hand. “I know it must be a shock for you, finding out you have children the way
you did.”

Draco's glare grew even blacker. “Don't patronize me, you worthless piece of shit! How
would you know how I felt?”

“Because I was shocked myself when I found out, and I was only doing what I was paid to do,”
William said. “I had expected a lot of sensitive information from the little you've given me,
but fatherhood was the last thing on my list of expectations.”

Draco counted to ten in his head to try and control his anger; he got to three and knew it was a
lost cause. “I could kill you right now and I'd be well within my right to do it,” he
threatened forcefully.

William shook his head; oddly enough, having the threat voiced out loud wasn't as terrifying
as the implication of the same by the pale wizard. “Look, Mr. Malfoy, I did leave a message with
your butler to call on me as soon as you got in. If I'm not mistaken, that would be about two
weeks ago, before, and I'm sorry to say this, you got engaged. I didn't know if knowing
about the twins would have otherwise changed your mind about going through with the engagement,
that's why I stayed for two hours, waiting for you to turn up. When you didn't, that's
when I left the note with your butler.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with
his right hand; he shook his head again as he looked back at the unimpressed young man.

“I expected you to come see me the next day, but when you didn't, I assumed that you
didn't care about the twins. It was wrong of me to presume such a thing, yes, and I should have
tried to contact you again, but I had to leave the country unexpectedly. My hands were tied, and I
had to make a decision. I'm sorry.”

Draco could discern the sincerity in the investigators voice but he refused to feel guilty for
venting; whether or not the investigator left a message with his butler was not the issue anymore.
He had been blindsided, plain and simple, and his instinct strongly urged him to lash out, whether
indiscriminately no longer mattered: He was angry, he felt slighted and completely helpless, a
feeling that didn't sit well with him.

William hesitated in bringing the matter up, especially since he had so little corroborating
evidence to support what he was about to say, but he didn't want to have to see Malfoy again
because he'd withheld information that the blond could consider important.

“Since we're on the subject, Mr. Malfoy, there's something I also have to tell you about
Ms. Weasley. I don't know if you're already aware of it, and I'm not sure if you'll
find it all that important, but I don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us
again.”

Draco snapped to attention and looked at the investigator with expectant eyes, forgetting for a
moment that not a minute ago, he had been seriously contemplating doing bodily harm to the other
man. “What is it?”

William Chauncy cleared his throat. “Well. By now you probably know that Ms. Weasley had been in
America all this time, working as an actress under the assumed name Moira Welsh - ”

“Yes, yes, I know all of that. Get on with it, man,” Draco prompted impatiently.

William suppressed his irritation at being interrupted. “Yes, well, what you probably don't
know is that while there, Ms. Weasley formed a, shall we say *close* friendship with one of
the actors she worked with.”

Draco felt like the room was closing in on him; his head felt oddly heavy, he felt cold all over
and he had the sudden urge to gouge his eyes out. He had feared that Ginny might have been intimate
with some other man, it had been four years after all, but he had never thought having his
suspicions confirmed would affect him in such a way.

“How many times?” he asked quietly.

William immediately realized his mistake. “Oh no, Mr. Malfoy, I don't mean to imply that I
have incontrovertible evidence Ms. Weasley had a sexual relationship with Nicholas Sterne, not at
all,” he said hastily.

Draco's glare returned in full force. “Don't take me for a fool, Chauncy; what other
reason would there be for a man and a woman to have a *close* friendship,” he spat
bitterly.

“You know Ms. Weasley better than I, Mr. Malfoy,” William offered uselessly. “Do *you*
think she might have had that kind of relationship with Sterne? Because as far as my investigations
go, I wouldn't be able to give you a definite answer about that. I know Sterne is practically
obsessed with her, but other than that, there hasn't been a whisper of an affair between the
two.”

But Draco was no longer listening to what the older man was saying; his ears were still ringing
with the awful truth he'd just heard and he could not accept that Ginny had allowed somebody
else to touch her.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco abruptly turned around and started for the door. “I have to go.”

“Wait! Mr. Malfoy - ” But Draco was already out the door and by the loud cracking sound that
William heard from outside, had already disapparated. “Bloody, hypocritical git,” he muttered,
dropping back down on his chair and ruffling his balding head in frustration. “Three guesses as to
what that rich prick would do next,” he said to himself. “I honestly don't blame the Weasley
chit for wanting to get rid of him, damn temperamental fool. As if he really had room to criticize
that young woman's sexual activeness, the way he himself was banging his way through Europe.
Impossible!”

As William Chauncy checked his calendar for the day, at the back of his mind he knew he had not
seen the last of Draco Malfoy.

--------------

A/N2: I have not given up on this story folks. Now just a few tidbits for the readers: I
understand that Draco may have come off as cold and unfeeling towards the twins, but really,
wouldn't it have been incredibly unbelievable if he suddenly turned into a doting papa? He
didn't have a great experience with his own father, ergo it would be unlikely for him to
develop paternal skills in the span of a few hours. This is just my opinion of course, and you all
are free to curse the hell out of our favorite anti-hero. But when I started this story, I had
every intention of keeping it as close to the Draco in the book as I possibly could. And if I do
say so myself, based on some of the responses I got from my readers, I think I have been somewhat
successful. But don't give up on our favorite Slytherin yet, he'll straighten his act in
the end.

-->



20. Zabini, Blaise Zabini
-------------------------



**CHAPTER 20****: Zabini, Blaise Zabini**

“I've been gone awhile; I hope that friend of yours hasn't gotten it into her head to go
*exploring*.”

Ginny shot Colin a dirty glare. “Why is it that if one of our friends gets into a bit of a bind,
*I'm* their friend, and any time between that you're more than happy to share
them?”

Colin feigned an innocent look. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

She threw him a nasty look. “Yeah, really convincing, Colin. Now tell me where you left Sarah,”
she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

They had just arrived in Colin's expensive London bachelor's pad and there was no Sarah
in sight. Now whether that was a good thing or a bad thing had yet to be determined.

“Don't look at me as though I ate your friend for breakfast,” Colin complained. “Indigestion
is not my cup of tea, as I'm sure you know by now.” He did a quick scan of his living area and
found nothing; they'd already looked in the room he had given her last night and she hadn't
been there as well. “That woman really has to cut down on her sugar intake; she could put the
energizer bunny to shame. Why she feels the need to prove she has boundless energy I'll never
begin to understand.”

“Colin - ”

“How'd you do that?”

Ginny and Colin turned as one when they heard the fearful voice of their erstwhile missing
guest. No wonder they didn't see her; Sarah was crouched down against one wall, conveniently
hidden by Colin's huge bronze statue of a stag, only one of numerous glaring testaments to his
obsession with anything Harry Potter.

“How'd you just appear like that? What's going on here?” Sarah demanded, moving towards
them bravely even though she looked every bit as though she would rather be running in the opposite
direction.

Ginny and Colin looked at each other in trepidation: The one thing she had been so afraid Colin
would inadvertently divulge was the very first thing she herself had exposed Sarah to. And as she
had feared, her friend was not taking the revelation of magic very well. In her haste to get to
Sarah, she had agreed with Colin when he suggested they Apparate. Her concern for her friend did
not excuse her for forgetting the possible consequences should she see them appear out of thin air,
though.

“Sar, I can explain,” Ginny began.

“You better,” Sarah said tremulously, “because I know I did *not* just imagine the two of
you popping up out of nowhere. And in case you might suggest it, I haven't been drinking and I
don't do drugs either.”

Colin looked between Ginny and Sarah, and made a decision. “I'll leave you two alone,” he
said hastily, making himself scarce in a flash.

Ginny watched Colin leave and couldn't really blame him; telling Sarah what, or rather
*who**,* she was, was not something she looked forward to. The only comfort she could
assure herself out of the whole disaster was the knowledge that should push come to shove, she
could erase her friend's memory after their talk. She wasn't looking forward to the task,
but if Sarah knowing about the wizarding world proved to be a threat, then she wouldn't quibble
about *Obliviating* her, friend or not.

“Why don't we sit down,” she suggested, motioning Sarah towards Colin's plush leather
sofa.

Sarah mindlessly started walking towards the seat located in the middle of Colin's huge
apartment, all the while mumbling, “Yes, a seat, a seat is a good idea,” and alternately looking at
Ginny with confusion and just a hint of fear in her eyes.

Ginny pitied her friend; she really hoped Sarah would take what she was going to tell her well.
She could use a friend like Sarah during this difficult time in her life, and even though she knew
Hermione wouldn't hesitate to offer an understanding ear should she ever need it, which she
does, she would rather have someone who didn't know about her history with her children's
father to confide in.

Ginny watched as Sarah sat Indian style on the sofa, then looked up at her expectantly.

*Well, at least she's not looking at me as though I was a freak or something*, she
thought before sitting down cautiously beside the blonde girl. She didn't really know where to
begin, didn't know whether she should just blurt out the truth or ease into it to make sure she
wasn't overloading her friend with unbelievable information too much too soon. But then again,
could she really blame anyone for `freaking out', as her American friends liked to call it,
when they were faced with the reality of a world that should have only belonged in the pages of a
fantasy book or the movies?

*Subtly**. I should be subtle, ease into the truth. Yes, good idea,* Ginny thought
fervently, unconsciously reaching for Sarah's hands and gripping it in her own.

She opened her mouth, with every intention of being subtle, and said, “I'm a witch.”
*Shit!* Ginny wanted to smack herself for her *subtlety.*

Sarah blinked, rather stupidly. “Oh.” She blinked again. “A witch. Right.” She smiled faintly.
“You're pulling my leg, aren't you?”

Ginny's hold on Sarah's hands tightened. “I'm sorry for just blurting it out loud
right that, and I'm sorry for keeping this from you, but I knew you would have a hard time
believing me if I told you before. You're probably having a hard time believing me now, or you
would be if you hadn't just seen Colin and I appear out of thin air.” She took a deep breath
and forged on. “Not a lot of your people would understand my world, just as my world has a
difficult time accepting yours, but I really would like for you to see me as I *really* am,
not the celebrity I was. I love you, Sarah; you are one of the few people who know the person I
have become, and you've been there. You've seen how much I've struggled these past
years with being a single parent and you've stayed by my side even without my asking you to. ”
She dropped her eyes and looked at their entwined hands. “Now I'm asking: I need you. I
don't want to lose your friendship,” she said quietly.

Sarah was quiet for a while, and Ginny grew increasingly frightened of her friend rejecting her
for what she was. She wouldn't blame her, but her rejection would hurt.

“So all this time you've been lying to me,” Sarah said flatly. “And what is this *your*
world and *my* world? Unless you came from Pluto or something, I don't see how there can
be two worlds in one planet! Or have I suddenly stepped into a Twilight Zone and just wasn't
aware of it?”

Ginny could not help the grimace from showing on her face. “I, and people like me, have a
separate existence, I should say,” she started slowly, knowing the delicacy of the topic at hand.
“It's sort of a community, one that ordinary people, like yourself, know nothing about. We know
of your world, but we've taken great pains to conceal ours from becoming common knowledge in
yours. I'm sure you can probably guess why,” she finished lamely.

Sarah looked contemplative for a moment. Then something flickered in her eyes, as though
she'd just been hit with something monumental. “Luke and Nicki! Are they - ?”

The question didn't need to be finished for Ginny to understand. “Yes.”

“So all those stuff that keeps happening around them were because they were witches?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes.”

“And Colin? Does he know? Or is he a witch too?”

Ginny could not prevent her lips from twitching at the thought of Colin. “He would like to be,
but we actually call the other team wizards.” She just couldn't help injecting a bit of levity
into their conversation.

Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “Witches and wizards. I just can't believe it, I
can't believe it.”

Ginny felt like crying; there was no use for it, she would have to erase Sarah's London
visit from her memory.

When she would have thought Sarah would finally call her out for her duplicity, the blonde
sighed and her shoulders slumped in resignation. “So,” she finally said. “By witch you mean like in
*Charmed*, right? Or do I have to worry about you doing a Hansel and Gretel on me?”

Ginny's head shot up so fast she was in danger of whiplash, and she gaped at her friend for
a few seconds before launching herself into the other woman's arms.

“Hey, hey, no biting now,” Sarah said mock-seriously, hugging the redhead back.

Ginny drew back and grinned widely at the other woman. “Shut it, you; I'm not a
vampire.”

“Good to know then; don't want to have any more surprises sprung on me.” Sarah grinned
knowingly at her friend. “I knew there was something extraordinary about you. Damn girl! A witch?
You couldn't choose something more common like maybe being a closet Republican or
something?”

Ginny laughed delightedly, giving her another hug. “Oh Sar, you don't know how much I've
missed you!”

“It's a good thing I'm here then,” she stated smugly. “But don't think for one
minute that I'm not gonna drill you for information about this witching business; I'm still
not too sure about what you being a witch exactly entails, but we'll get to that later. Right
now I really just need to rest, and Colin hasn't been all that helpful in that area, leaving me
all alone here, making me think all sorts of things. When are you gonna take me to your place?”

“Right now. Go get your things and we'll be on our way.”

Sarah bounded out of the sofa. “Didn't bring much with me,” she declared. “Stay there and
I'll be back in a jiffy.”

Ginny watched the blonde disappear, a smile on her face. She was very glad she didn't have
to *Obliviate* Sarah. She wasn't stupid enough to believe there won't be moments
wherein the differences between their world wouldn't cause a problem for them, but for right
now, she was going to take what she could get. And having her friend so close at hand was really
the only thing she could ask for. The explanations could wait, and no matter what happened from
then on, she was sure that it would be much less burdensome; everything always seemed to be so,
with Sarah Carter around.

She took the time Sarah was gone to look in on Colin; she found him sitting on his bed,
polishing his camera. Where Colin's living room was decorated in what was often kindly referred
to as eclectic, his bedroom screamed minimalism: black platform bed with a matching mattress and
night stand on one side, a bench at the foot of the bed, a wardrobe with sliding doors occupying
one corner, a mirrored door leading to where Ginny knew was her best friend's bath and
restroom, and sliding glass doors leading to a spacious balcony. Colin's bedroom looked even
bigger than it actually was since it wasn't cluttered with unnecessary furniture; the only
accessory in the room was a platinum spiral lamp and an enlarged black and white photo of a naked
woman displayed over the head of the bed.

Ginny frowned when she saw the picture.

“How did it go?” Colin asked, putting down his camera.

“Will you ever take down that picture?” Ginny asked, still frowning, not answering Colin's
question. “It's not exactly doing anything for your sex life, you know.”

Colin grinned as he looked back at his masterpiece; he lazily got out of bed and faced the
aforementioned art, tilting his head just so. “Not anytime soon, luv.”

“I ought to bring Ron here,” she threatened. “I'm sure he'd *love* to see that
particular piece of art you so delight in torturing me with.”

Colin's grin widened. “C'mon, luv, you know that's my best work to date; it's
what got me started in the first place. And besides, you look absolutely delicious in that picture,
so get over it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes; there was no use talking to Colin. The first time she'd tried to
persuade him to remove that particular art was when they were still in America; he had responded by
making copies of the picture and putting it up in every apartment he either owned or rented all
over Europe and America. He was just contrary that way, especially since he believed that it
wasn't hurting anyone by being so prominent, including Ginny, no matter how much she might
protest otherwise.

“So? What happened?” Colin demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ginny forced her eyes from the picture. “It went fine, better than I expected, actually.
We're about to go back to the Manor, in fact. I wanted to ask if you wanted to go with us.
Although I must warn you, Sarah isn't too happy with you at the moment. I do believe she
mentioned something about making you sorry for lying to her?”

Colin grimaced. “Gee, thanks. I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind.”

Ginny shrugged and started backing away towards the door. “Coward. But you can't hide
forever, you know that, right? Sarah will get to you eventually, never you doubt that.”

“I'm sure. But I rather like the word eventually, if you must know.” He stuffed his hands in
his back pockets. “Will you be okay?” he asked seriously.

“I'm sure I will be,” Ginny answered, looking at Colin sheepishly. “I mean, the worst is
over after all.”

“Alright, then,” Colin nodded. “I'll be by later.” He drew Ginny in his arms and gave her a
tight hug.

Ginny returned the hug, and with a small smile, she quickly left. And just in time, too.

“Done,” Sarah declared, her long strides covering the distance between her room and the living
room easily, a backpack slung over her shoulders.

“That's all you brought with you?” she asked, unable to believe that her fashion conscious
friend could fit her gowns inside the medium-sized polyester backpack.

“Yep. Didn't really think much of anything except hopping on a plane for London and trying
to find you. And besides, I could always borrow your clothes, they're way cooler than mine,
anyway. Are you ready then?”

Ginny shook her head in wonder; just when she had Sarah all figured out, she turns around and
does the opposite of what was expected from her.

“Off we go then.”

“What about Colin? Isn't he coming?” Sarah asked curiously.

“Not right now, no. But he said he'll come by later.”

“Okay. Let's go.”

Ginny led the way out of the apartment, shaking her head when Sarah started skipping along
beside her, like a little girl off to the playground. “You know, I'm surprised that you're
taking all this rather well. I had expected you to go mental on me once you found out what I
was.”

Sarah smirked at her. “Don't get me wrong; I'm still in shock mode. I'm basically
still trying to digest what you've said to me so far, but we will have another talk about
keeping secrets from each other. And Colin? That camera-toting hag has a lot of explaining to do,
too. Wait until I get my hands on him.” She waved her fist in the air for emphasis.

Ginny laughed delightedly. “I'll be sure to warn him of your intent. He's wary of you
enough as it is; no need to give him a reason to justify his feeling.”

“I don't know why, I'm completely harmless,” Sarah claimed with a straight face.

Ginny pressed the button of the lift. “You're about as harmless as a six-foot Blast-ended
Skrewt,” she declared laughingly.

“A what?” Sarah asked as she stepped into the lift.

Ginny followed her friend into the small room. “Never mind. Just be thankful you never have to
face one, is all.”

Sarah frowned at Ginny as the doors to the lift closed. She wasn't sure, but she had a
feeling that being likened to a blast-ended whachamacallit was not a good thing at all. But they
could talk about that later; right now, what she needed most was to rest and feel safe, whichever
comes first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Zabini! Where do you think you're going?”

Blaise Zabini turned to look at his partner, mentally sighing in exasperation. For a time it was
funny to have the Boy-Who-Lived (“Man, Zabini! Man!” as Potter often corrected him) dogging his
every step, suspicious that the Italian wizard might try to brainwash Hermione into leaving him.
Not that he hadn't tried, of course; during Hermione and Potter's first year of marriage he
had tried every trick he had up his sleeve to turn Hermione's head, all to no avail. It was
difficult, finally letting the first woman he'd ever felt that elusive feeling called love go,
but that was a story that was better left untold now. That, and Hermione had categorically told him
she would be cutting off an important part of his anatomy if he continued to pester her. It was
said in jest, but he knew then that he'd lost, and it was time to move on. But that didn't
mean that Potter had to know of his decision; if there was one thing that he loved more than he did
Hermione, it was watching her husband's face turn an unbecoming shade of purple every time he
flirted with her. It was a health hazard, yes, one that he didn't mind facing every day for its
entertainment value.

“What now, Potter?”

“Where are you going?” Harry asked again, looking suspiciously behind him at the elevators.

Blaise smirked. “Really, Potter, I know I'm irresistible, but you have got to get a grip on
yourself. I just don't swing that way. You do understand, don't you?” He laughed inwardly
at the disgusted look the other man gave him, and decided to up the ante a bit. “Now if you were
Draco, I just might be persuaded into changing my mind.”

“You're sick! You really are sick in the head, Zabini! I don't know why Hermione ever
bothered with you, and *still* bothering with you,” Harry spat in mingled horror and
disgust.

Blaise let go of the laughter he was holding in. “You are such a gullible fool, Potter!” he
chuckled, giving the other man a playful punch on the right shoulder. “Nothing like a good laugh to
brighten an otherwise tedious day, eh. Thanks, mate.” He punched the elevators for down.

“You still haven't answered my question,” Harry persisted, truly worried now that Zabini
might be going down to the Unspeakables department.

“It's charm, Potter; I have charm in spades. What can I say? Hermione just can't resist
the Zabini appeal,” Blaise answered smoothly, deliberately giving Harry the answer to the question
he knew wasn't the one he wanted to hear.

Harry looked so frustrated at his partner that he looked to be in danger of pulling out his
hair, which was not necessarily a bad thing considering he had so much of it, Blaise thought
unkindly.

“No, you pillock! Can't you keep your mind out of your pants for 2 seconds!” Harry
practically snarled. “You're not supposed to go anywhere without telling me your
whereabouts.”

Blaise feigned a frown in concentration. “They were serious about that?” he said, brows drawn
together in displeasure. “Oh, well,” he shrugged disinterestedly. “If you should know, I'm off
to visit a certain redhead. I have this gut feeling telling me to go there this morning. So.”

Harry's face lightened up considerably. “You're playing with fire, you know that,
right?”

Blaise gave him a two-fingered salute. “Hey, lighting a fire under our favorite icy Slytherin is
slowly becoming a favorite hobby of mine.”

Harry looked at him wryly. “Have you forgotten you're a Slytherin yourself?”

The elevator doors opened just as Blaise grinned at Harry. “But not icy, Potter. No one can ever
accuse me of being icy.”

Harry shook his head. “If this is the way you treat your friends, I pity you're
enemies.”

Blaise stepped into the elevator. “You *know* how I treat my enemies, Potter,” he answered
simply, seriously.

Harry knew, all right, which was precisely why the Ministry had decided to pair the two of them
right off. The powers that be could not completely trust that a Slytherin could really want to be a
protector and executor of Wizarding laws and decrees, especially one who didn't need the income
such work entails. But Blaise had proven to be an invaluable Auror, the only one who was powerful
enough to match up with one Harry Potter.

Harry placed his hand against the side of the elevator to keep it from closing. “You'd
better be back at 2. We're due to appear for our monthly report, and Augustus wasn't too
happy about you missing the last one.”

Blaise crossed his arms across his chest. “Why you keep putting up with that pompous ass is
beyond me, Potter. If I'm not here by then, tell him he can stick his job where the sun
doesn't shine, or I'll do it for him if he doesn't get off my back.” The doors of the
elevators closed to the sight of a Harry Potter shaking his head and chuckling at his accurate
description of the Head of the Auror Department.

Harry Potter. It was a sacrilege, a sin really, one punishable by decapitation, but Blaise had
been able to admit to himself that he greatly admired the savior of the Wizarding world. Hermione
had rightly guessed his admiration towards her husband and had even taunted him about it, but not
even under threat of painful death would he actually voice that fact out loud. He trusted Potter to
cover his back, and in the line of work they were in, that was saying something; the fact that he
was a former Slytherin who lived up to that name in every aspect of the word was even more telling.
He wasn't one to let his guard down, even around Draco he was always on the alert, but Potter
was different, and after 3 years of working together, he had learned that Potter might bluster at
him ninety percent of the time, but he could trust that he would never be betrayed by the former
Gryffindor.

The doors of the elevators opened and a group of witches joined him in the small compartment. He
pretended not to see that they were giving him flirtatious looks, and were giggling like
schoolgirls as they whispered to each other. It was always the same; he was used to women fawning
over him and if he had been in a playful mood right then, he might have indulged them in a little
game of flirtation, but he *wasn't* in the mood, and he was unusually eager to see Ginny.
Why, he could not understand, he just knew he had to see her that morning.

When the elevator finally reached the lobby of the Ministry, he gave the witches a brief nod and
walked swiftly to the Apparation point of the Ministry, ignoring the disappointed looks on their
faces. Really, women were so complicated and yet, *not.* He didn't like the migraine that
goes with trying to understand them when he wasn't thinking of anything more than a quick
tumble between the sheets. Hermione had told him that was why he could never get a steady
girlfriend: His attitude didn't foster a healthy relationship, and what woman would want to be
treated like a highly paid whore instead of a valued girlfriend?

He'd protested, of course, rather loudly in fact; he had hot Italian blood running in his
veins after all, he could never treat a woman like chattel even if half the time they deserved to
be treated so! He was a lover, a provider, everything a woman wished for in their man but something
that was as elusive as catching smoke with one's bare hands. How Hermione could be so mistaken
about him he would never understand.

He nodded his head again as he passed a curly haired witch who gave him a brilliant smile.
*Women*, he thought cynically, *can't live with them, can't live without them.* A
fleeting thought passed through his head right before he *disapparated**:* Would he ever
find that one person they all say was meant to complete you? He wasn't even aware he was
missing a piece of himself, how then could he possibly know a woman had completed him?

“Barmy,” he muttered, and with a loud crack he disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Sarah exclaimed, jaw slack as she stared up at the structure before
her. “You live in a palace?”

Ginny nodded in gratitude at her driver, a bemused smile on her face as she listened to her
friend go on and on about her home.

“I mean seriously!” Sarah continued. “You got a complex or something? I only ever know of people
who likes to live in big houses as having issues, but you're the first one I know who actually
has to have a palace for a house. Got something to tell me?” She nudged Ginny's elbow
suggestively.

Ginny shook her head at her friend. “It's hardly a palace,” she muttered, embarrassed at her
friend's first impression of the place she'd built for her family. “Come on,” she said,
crooking her right arm through Sarah's left. “Let's get you inside before my staff thinks
you're not only a Muggle, you've also gone off the deep end.”

“Staff? You've also got staff? How many? How many people live here anyway? How many rooms
does this place have? And where exactly *is* here, anyway? How - ”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend's inquisitiveness and tugged at her arm every time she
faltered and stared at something she found interesting in her home. Sarah was being Sarah, of
course, and she didn't begrudge her her curiosity; it was one of her friend's most
endearing qualities.

“-I've seen that documentary about the Royal family, you know? Do you have rooms like they
do? You know the one where you could build a whole house in one bedchamber? Is that what they
called it? Where they have sitting rooms and parlor rooms and retiring rooms in one bedroom? Huh?
Do you have that?”

Then again Sarah's curiosity was also one of her most irritating qualities.

“Sar, I'll give you a grand tour of the house if you want. But don't you want to take a
rest first? You did say you were tired, didn't you?” Ginny asked hopefully. Already they'd
gotten some odd looks from a few of the staff they'd passed. It wasn't only because they
didn't have any idea who the woman with their employer was, but because they were simply amused
at the childish vivacity that the statuesque blonde was displaying, a trait they'd only ever
seen in the twins.

“Yeah, but - ” Sarah was cut off by a delighted shriek; they'd reached a large airy room,
with glass walls on either side. The shriek threatened to break said glass, and as Ginny cringed,
Sarah turned just in time to catch a blonde missile as it hurtled into her arms.

“Aunt Sarah! Aunt Sarah! You're here!”

Child and woman laughed delightedly, Sarah swinging the delighted little girl round and round in
her arms.

“Yes, I am, you little brat! I've missed you! And where's that brother of yours?”

Just then, a disgruntled looking Luke marched up to his sister and their guest. “Not fair!” Luke
declared, stomping his foot in indignation. “You pushed me!” the little boy accused, swatting at
his sister's swinging legs.

“Luke! What's that all about?” Ginny asked her son, putting a restraining hand on his
shoulders.

Luke pouted. “She knocked me over in the cushions, Mommy, and I never did nothing to her, just
coz she wanted to get here first.”

Ginny's lips thinned in disapproval as she looked at her smug looking daughter. “Nicole
Adrianne Weasley, what have I told you about pushing your brother around?”

“That I shouldn't do it, but he dared me, Mommy!” Nicole said in defense. “He said I
couldn't beat him coz I was a girl. Ha! I won! He's the girl!”

Luke's lips wobbled in distress, his little hands balled into little fists. “I'm not!
You're the girl! You are! you are!”

“Hey, hey! What's going on here? What brought this on?” Ginny asked, totally perplexed. Sure
the twins had their disagreement from time to time, but this tiff looked to be a prelude to World
War III. “Nicole? I need an answer, young lady.”

Nicole turned her head from her mother in rebellion. Sarah raised a surprised brow at Ginny.

“Nicki, honey, why won't you tell Mommy what's going on?” Sarah asked the child in her
arms gently.

Now it was Nicky's lips wobbling. It didn't look as though she was going to answer, but
then she gave her brother a quelling glare and blurted out, “Grandpa loves him more than he does me
and it's all his fault!”

Ginny felt like she'd just been kicked in the gut. “What! What! Where's all this coming
from? What happened?”

It seemed that was all that the children needed to start bawling. Nicole buried her face in
Sarah's neck while Luke hid his face against his mother's legs.

In the midst of the noise, a voice full of authority suddenly rang out.

“What is the meaning of this racket?”

Luke and Nicole's wails died out as though a switch had been turned off. As Lucius walked
into the middle of the party, Ginny was still at a loss as to what could have triggered this
episode of sibling rivalry. When Lucius automatically walked over to check on Luke, it left little
doubt in her mind what the trigger was.

“See! See! Granpa loves Ian more than he does me! He hates me!”

Ginny felt a serious case of migraine coming on. She has never before had this problem with the
twins and she could not believe that it chose that day and that time to test her parenting as well
as coping skill.

At hearing Nicole's accusation, Lucius halted mid-crouch to look up at his granddaughter in
surprise. Realising the indignity of the position he found himself in, he straightened, and after
ruffling Luke's hair fondly for a moment, went over to the upset Nicole.

“What's this I'm hearing? That can't be right. Surely my princess can't actually
believe I don't adore her just as much as her brother? Come here, little pea,” Lucius said
coaxingly, taking Nicole from Sarah's slack arms. The little girl snuggled into her
grandfather's arms, sniffling into his neck dramatically.

Ginny rolled her eyes in mingled annoyance and mirth; she finally realized the absurdity of the
problem was compounded by someone with the tendency to overcompensate for past parental failures.
“You are such a pushover, Lucius. A little waterfall and you go stumbling all over yourself to
appease these two monsters. What were they doing while I was away, anyway?”

Lucius settled Nicole properly in his arms before answering Ginny. “We were in the Day room,
actually, and they were getting along just fine. Then they ran out, I followed them and came upon
this scene.” He looked back at the woman his granddaughter had been clinging to previously and
turning back to Ginny, raised his eyebrow in inquiry.

Ginny quickly made the introductions. “This is who I was talking to you about earlier, Lucius;
this is a friend of mine, Sarah Carter. Sarah, this is my - ” she paused for a moment, not sure how
to introduce Lucius as, then finally decided on, “my children's grandfather, Lucius
Malfoy.”

Sarah's eyes widened incredulously. “My God, Moira, he looks just like that guy I told you
about! Except for the hair. You remember that guy, don't you, the one in the party? The one I
told you about, the blond guy with Dianne Winters?” She looked Lucius over from the top of his
gleaming head to the tips of his polished Italian shoes. “Do they all grow English men like him?”
She looked at Ginny wonderingly. “If so, I was born in the wrong country. Seriously.”

Ginny could barely suppress her laughter, especially at the indignant look in Lucius' face.
He has probably never been so thoroughly looked over by a female in his life, at least not one who
looked at him as though he was a fine piece of steak she wouldn't mind sinking her teeth into.
No female who knew the kind of man he was, and what he was capable of, would ever dare look at him
in the way Sarah just did, and he wasn't finding the experience the least bit enjoyable or
flattering. He knew he looked good, and he didn't need to have a female of questionable
pedigree telling him by any form of communication that he was desirable. Even if said female was
extremely attractive herself, which was beyond the point, of course.

Lucius turned to Ginny and in a clipped voice, said, “I will be taking Nicole inside then; I
think today's episode needs attending to. If you will excuse me?”

“Oh, don't go on my account,” Sarah said in her most flirtatious voice. She wasn't born
insensitive; she knew right away that the twin's grandfather didn't like her, and those
were the kind of men that she particularly loved to play around with, at least mentally. “We were
just getting acquainted.”

Lucius stiffened in offended shock. The nerve of this - this Muggle! “I'm sure I don't
know what you're talking about, Ms. Carter. If you'll excuse me? And Luke? I will have that
talk with you later as well, young man.” And with one last quelling glance at Sarah, turned and
marched out of the room, Nicole happily waving at her Aunt Sarah over her grandfather's
shoulders as she was carried off.

Ginny's laughter bubbled out as soon as she was certain Lucius wouldn't be able to hear
her. “I cannot believe you just did that! After all the trouble I went through to make sure he
doesn't make it difficult for you to stay here!”

Sarah flicked her hair over her shoulders carelessly. “I could tell he doesn't like me,
which is so unfair since he doesn't even know me. You know I can never resist the challenge of
a man who's so obviously *not* into me. Not to mention he is a delicious piece of manhunk;
too bad he's related to you. And what d'you mean you had to convince him to let me stay
here?”

Ginny shook her head ruefully. “I will never understand you, you crazy woman. If I didn't
know better, I'd think you weren't really heartbroken not too long ago. And please
don't talk to me about Lucius' desirability,” Ginny implored, making a face at the grinning
blonde. “I don't think my stomach could take to hearing how my kid's grandfather does it
for you. Too much information, if you know what I mean.” She shivered, to emphasize her point. “And
I didn't need his permission to let you stay here; I just had to talk to him about certain
stuff about you, is all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Sarah's smile had dimmed a bit on being reminded of her break-up, but her resilient nature
would not allow for her to wallow on stuff that she had no control over. Forcibly pushing
unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind, she flashed her thousand megawatt smile at her
redheaded friend. “You know me; part of my charm.” She cocked her head at Luke playfully. “Now come
here, my darling Luky. You haven't given me my kiss yet.”

Eagerly, Luke went over to Sarah and flung himself into her open arms, wrapping his arms around
her neck tightly and planting a big wet kiss on her cheek. As they were horsing around with each
other, Ginny heard another voice, this time from someone she knew would only give her trouble,
penetrate the happy reunion of boy and aunt.

“Well, cara mia. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Blaise strutted inside the foyer of Welsh Manor, looking as though he owned the place and
didn't have a care in the world. Nobody tried to stop him gaining entry into the lavish home,
not that he would have heeded anyone who would have tried anyway. He spied a carrot-haired girl
peeking at him around a corner and stopped.

“Good morning, Lucy; you're looking especially fine this morning. Is that a new apron
you're wearing?” Blaise flashed an intimate smile at the timid young maid, and watched as color
flooded the young woman's cheeks.

“Och, Master Blaise; yer a bad one, ye are,” the young girl scolded but with a big smile on her
face. “Me mum tells me yer nae good, and that ye shouldna be teasin' us so.”

Blaise grinned at the maid unrepentantly. “And how is the lovely Mrs. Fitzgerald this morning?
Good, I hope?”

“Good enough to whip your arse if you don' stop flirtin' with me staff,” a stern voice
answered Blaise. A stout woman with the same shade of hair came into view, wielding a rolling pin
in one hand and a turkey baster in the other.

“Colleen, my bonny Colleen. How - ”

“Away with ya, you silly mon,” the cook told him off, her tone nevertheless adoring. “If
you're lookin' for the mistress, we was told she was goin' out. Don' know if
she's back yet. Now get on inside afore I whack you o'er the head with me pin. And stop
puttin' ideas into me daughters head, why don't you.”

Blaise pasted a hurt look on his face. “If I wasn't so fond of your crumpets, woman.” Blaise
let his statement hang between them; the cook knew how much Blaise favored her sweets, not just her
crumpets. It was one of the reasons why he could usually be found in the Manor most days, even
before her employer had moved back to England, even before the Manor had been completed even. They
usually do verbal sparring with each other, especially since Blaise took it for granted that his
teasing might not be seen as such by the Manor's female staff, and it was just hell working
with people who spent most of their time mooning over a man they could never hope to have.

“Go,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said, waving her baster at Blaise.

Blaise winked at Lucy, causing the latter to giggle uncontrollably despite her mother's
admonishment. “See you later, lovey.” Blaise left to the sounds of Mrs. Fitzgerald reprimanding her
daughter at the impropriety of flirting with the Manor's guests, especially guests who were
known for being a heartbreaker.

Blaise shook his head and started whistling a merry tune. Until he turned a corner and witnessed
a sight he thought he'd never see in this lifetime. The scene was too funny, and too surreal,
that he just had to keep the players from knowing they had an audience. When the unlikeliest
participant of the scene finally left, he decided to make his presence known.

“Well, cara mia. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?” He watched as Ginny
turned to look at him, but his focus was on the other woman she was with. During the entire scene
with Lucius, he hadn't seen what the brave woman looked like since she'd had her back
turned to him. But when he finally saw the second woman, of his generation anyway, who defied
Lucius without a care for her physical well-being, he literally felt his gut clench. He felt
poleaxed; he had no idea what the word meant exactly, but he felt sure it was appropriate to
describe the way the woman made him feel. And the second thing he noticed was that his hackles rose
up as though to prepare himself from an attack. He'd only felt such wariness during his more
dangerous assignments as an Auror; he didn't understand why he felt it necessary to feel wary
of a slip of a girl, but he was. Oh, he was.

“What are you doing here so early in the day?” Ginny asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“It's not really that early now, cara; it's almost 11. And do you really blame me if I
miss seeing you?”

Ginny snorted. “It's not like you haven't been here all the time; you practically live
here yourself. Mrs. Fitzgerald has told me you've been raiding my kitchen since the builder had
the ovens working.”

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. “I won't bankrupt you with my appetite, I'm sure.” He
strolled forward casually, looking at Sarah in the same manner she had looked Lucius over earlier.
Draping an arm on Ginny's shoulders, he tipped her face up and dropped a kiss on the tip of her
nose. “Care to tell me where you went off to this morning?”

Ginny shrugged off Blaise's arms and glared at him. “Will you stop pawing me already!
Isn't it enough you've made us out to be more than we are last night? I'm only
surprised the *Daily Prophet* hadn't got wind of our *engagement* and plastered it
all over the front page.”

“Ah, so that's why you're ticked off at me.” Blaise mustered a hurt look on his face. “I
was only playing along with what your dear Lucius wanted, Ginevra dear. Did you really think I
relished having my best friend bash my face in? My jaw still hurt, you know.”

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. “Draco hit you?”

Blaise nodded, grinning. “Yes! You should have seen his face - it was priceless! If I didn't
know for sure he was furious at me I would have egged him some more. `Course that was before he
slugged me, an exercise I don't care to repeat, thank you very much.”

Ginny didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what
to say and how to react to what Blaise had just told her. Finally, deciding to just leave well
enough alone, she turned to Sarah, intending to introduce Blaise to her. She was surprised at the
way her friend was looking at Blaise.

“Um, Blaise, this is Sarah, a very good friend of mine from America.” She looked at Blaise,
expecting the Italian to start doing what he does best: flirt. What she saw on his face was
something else, though. “Sar, this is Blaise Zabini, a friend and one of the twin's
godfather.”

“Charmed,” Blaise drawled lazily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Sarah nodded curtly, depositing Luke on her right hip. “Likewise.”

Ginny looked from Sarah to Blaise and was at a loss as to what to say; never had she found
herself in a frosty situation without a clue as to the root of the problem.

“What am I missing here?” she finally asked. “Have you two met somewhere?” She was answered by a
chorus of `No's', `Don't be silly's' and `Nevers' and `You're kidding,
right?'. Which only made her more bewildered. “Okay,” she said slowly, eyeing the two warily.
“Luke, why don't you go take Aunt Sarah and show her to her room while I talk to Uncle Blaise.
It's the third bedroom in the South Wing, on the second floor, beside the Music Room.”

Luke scrambled down from her perch on Sarah's hip, and with an enthusiastic “Ok, Mommy,”
rushed to Blaise to give his leg a brief tight hug before grabbing Sarah's hand and dragging
her from the room, leaving Blaise and Ginny, with the latter looking at the former
suspiciously.

Blaise stared at the spot Sarah and Luke had been standing on, trying to understand what it was
about the woman he didn't like. When he noticed that Ginny was looking at him oddly, he shifted
on his feet, trying to look as indifferent as he possibly could. “What?”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Such as?” he asked blankly.

“Such as what happened just now?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Blaise hedged uncomfortably.

Ginny scoffed. “Come off it, Zabini. I know you. I know you're like a cock in a henhouse
whenever there's an even remotely attractive woman in the vicinity. And in case you'd
suddenly gone blind and it's escaped your notice completely, Sarah happens to be more than
fairly attractive. What I don't get is why you were looking at her as though she was going to
steal the silverware as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

Blaise shrugged. “I didn't feel like it.”

Ginny's brows rose. “Do you hear yourself talking right now? You sound as though you've
been possessed and the malevolent spirit spit out the old Zabini like yesterdays news.”

A vein started pulsing like mad on Zabini's neck. “Just leave it, Ginevra.”

“Ohhh! So now I'm Ginevra? Something must be really bothering you for you to go all formal
on me, when it's just the two of us.”

Blaise turned his back on her and started walking away. “Where are you going? I haven't
finished talking to you,” Ginny called, following him.

“The kitchen,” Blaise answered simply.

“Why?”

“Because,” Blaise answered, “like you said, I'm trying to eat you out of hearth and home. To
do that, I have to start early.”

“You haven't answered my question yet,” Ginny demanded stubbornly.

“And I don't intend to,” Blaise threw over his shoulder. “You're only my fiancée,
Ginevra, you're not my wife yet.” He docked when Ginny pulled off one of her shoe and threw it
at his head. “And that is one habit you have I'm going to have to curtail once we're
married,” he continued to espouse, smirking at the irritated redhead. “Granting, of course, that I
still have a head after Draco's through with me.”

“Get back here, you cretin!”

“Later, me amore,” he said, waving her off. “Freshly baked crumpets is calling to me. And you
should really lay off on the name calling, we have impressionable ears living in this place, you
know.”

Ginny didn't bother following the Italian; she knew that there was no use talking to the man
when his stomach was ruling his head at the moment. Shaking her head, she turned to follow Sarah
and her son. If Blaise were to follow his usual schedule, then he was going to be around for the
next two hours. And she wasn't going to let him walk out of the Manor unless he explained
himself to her satisfaction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah sat on her bed and watched Luke bouncing off the walls in his excitement, although
bouncing seemed to be the wrong adjective to use, seeing as he had some sort of contraption gripped
between his legs. She wanted to feel worried that he might hurt himself, but after what she'd
learned that day, she was learning, fast, to take anything in her friend's house in stride. She
didn't know what was normal with them, and four-year-olds bouncing off walls might just be
something that happened on a regular basis in this alternate reality.

“LUKE! What have I told you about flying inside the house!”

Sarah literally jumped off the bed at Ginny's announcement. Flying? *Flying**?!*
Oh man!

Luke just grinned at his mother, and with one more bounce, landed on the carpeted floor of
Sarah's bedroom.

Sarah looked from son to mother and shook her head. She was surprised it took her this long to
discover this side of her friend's life. There had been more than one occasion back in the
States where she'd had to stay at Moira's place, and she'd never noticed anything funny
about the suite she kept. Seeing how Luke was so enjoying himself defying every last order his
mother must have given him at one point, she couldn't imagine the amount of restraint the
little boy must have exerted not to show the magic in his blood.

“I'm sorry, My, I didn't know he wasn't supposed to be, er, flying?”

Ginny waved off her apology. “I know whose fault it is. Now give me that broom, young man, or
it'll be worse off for you than it already is!”

“But Mommy!” Luke whined, clutching at his broom as though his life depended on it.

“You heard me, young man. Now, give it here.” Ginny held out her right hand, and with a pout,
Luke handed over his broom. “And you're not getting this back until you promise me you will
never be flying it inside the house again, do you hear me?”

Luke crossed his little arms in front of his chest and scuffed his shoes on the carpet, refusing
to look at his mother. Sarah thought he looked so adorable, trying to look like the bigger man he
was not going to be til several more years yet.

“I want an answer, mister,” Ginny stated firmly, refusing to budge.

Luke gave his mother a glare and tipped his pointed chin up in defiance. “Yes, mommy,” he said
grudgingly, in contrast to his defiant stance.

Ginny nodded. “All right then. Now why don't you go find your grandfather and tell him how
mean I've been.” She smirked at the astonished look on her son's face. “You don't
actually believe I don't know that you always come crawling to your grandfather every time you
don't get your way with me, don't you?”

A flicker of guilt passed across Luke's face, but it was so brief you would have to be
looking closely at him to notice it. He did march out of his aunt's room though, every inch the
offended little aristocrat that he was.

Sarah had witnessed their interaction with an amused smile on her face. No two people could be
as strong-willed as mother and son was, except, of course, where Nicole was concerned; the little
girl would win the stubbornness trophy hands down on any given day.

“Wow! If ever there was a battle of the sexes, that would have been one,” Sarah commented,
flopping back down of the huge sleigh bed, propping her chin up with her hands.

Ginny snorted. “Don't you mean the battle of the ages? Sometimes I have to drill it into
them that I'm actually the parent in this relationship, otherwise they'd walk all over
me.”

Sarah nodded. “I can see that. I wonder why I never noticed this power struggle back in the
US.”

Ginny sat down near the blonde, smoothing the peach-colored comforter absentmindedly. “Believe
me, the same holds true back there. It's just not as apparent as when we're here, though.
But enough of that. What I want to know is why you suddenly did a fair imitation of the Ice Queen
back there with Blaise. Got something to tell me?” she threw Sarah's question back at her.

Sarah turned over on the bed and shrugged. “I don't know what you mean,” she hedged, not
looking Ginny in the eye, staring up at the domed ceiling.

Ginny snorted again. “You're so full of it! I practically had frostbite with the way the two
of you were reacting to each other. I would have thought you'd go the extra mile trying to give
Blaise the come hither look; he is an impossibly good-looking man,” she spied Sarah's reaction
from underneath her lashes, “and very rich as well. He's got about a hundred women banging down
his door, wanting a piece of him.”

“And he's probably more than happy to let all those hundreds of women in, not wanting to
disappoint his adoring masses,” Sarah said, a sneer in her tone. “I know men like him, Moira; they
can be trusted only as far as I can throw them. I want no part of somebody like that.”

Ginny looked at her friend thoughtfully. “We might have a problem with that, as he often spends
his time here.”

Sarah's eyes snapped back to Ginny and widened. “Don't tell me he's your boyfriend
or something!” she said, her face draining of color.

Ginny laughed delightedly. “Goodness, no! I have more than my fair share of problems already, I
don't need to add one more into it.” She shook her head slightly. “But like I said, he spends
most of his time here. I've only been told of that fact a few days ago, and I don't see the
need for him to stop coming here. He's a good friend actually; he's annoying, but still a
friend.” Then a mischievous sparkle came into her eyes. “What I want to know is why you seem to
find the erroneous fact that he might be my boyfriend so distressing.”

Sarah rose from her previous position, sitting Indian style on the bed and would not meet
Ginny's eyes again. “It's not, distressing I mean. I just think you deserve much better
than him, that's all. He's not good enough for you,” she finished lamely.

Ginny nodded knowingly, smirking, deciding to let it go for now. “If you think that, then I
can't wait for you to meet the twin's father. I'd love to hear what you think of
him.”

“You mean he's here?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“He's in England, yes,” Ginny affirmed. “Where, exactly, I don't know. But if you react
like that to Blaise, then I'm sure you'll have plenty to say about Draco.”

“Why do you say that?” Sarah asked in puzzlement.

“Because he and Blaise are related, cousins to be more specific. And no two men could be as
similar as those two.”

Sarah looked even more confused. “Then where did the twins get their coloring? From their
grandfather?”

Ginny laughed. “No, silly. From their father, of course. The twin's father took his coloring
from Lucius, which he then passed into my little imps.”

“But that would mean - ”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Moira.” Sarah threw her arms around her friend in a bid to comfort the
redhead. “You must feel so awful, having the man who fathered your babies marrying another
woman.”

Ginny's face clouded for a minute. “That's not important now, so let's not talk
about him. I just want to warn you that Blaise would be practically living here with us, and to
just ignore him when he gets into his me-man-hear-me-roar moments. He winds down pretty fast
anyhow.”

Sarah giggled. “I'll try not to laugh in his face when he tries that with me, I
promise.”

Ginny grinned back at her friend. “Okay then. Now, how about that tour?”

Sarah eagerly jumped on the bed, dipping into an impromptu curtsy. “Lead the way, my Lady,” she
said, wobbling horribly and in danger of toppling over the side of the bed. “But first tell me why
Zabini kept calling you Ginevra.”

Ginny sighed. “I'll tell you the short end of it while I'm showing you the place, all
right?” she said, as the two of them started on their way out of the room. “I'm sure you'll
put too much stock behind the story of that name and the telling should keep you entertained.”
Ginny grinned to herself as Sarah started in on her questioning again, then got distracted by all
that was around her, as was expected. Now if she could just keep Sarah's attention otherwise
occupied, she might just be able to concoct a shorter, less graphic picture of how Moira Welsch
came to be.

-------------------

A/N:

I know it's been forever since my last update; I can't even remember when it was that I
last did actually. My only excuse is that I promised myself I wouldn't post any chapters until
and unless I finished writing ALL of the chapters ahead so you all won't have to wait for weeks
at a time (or months, as the case now stands) before the next update. But I've gotten so
distracted as of late that at the rate I'm going, it'll be forever and a day before I
finally got this story concluded. So, against my better judgment, I'm posting chapter 20. I
hope you like it enough to forgive me for being so tardy. I'll try to not be so late in posting
future chapters again. My schedule's not too bad now, so I guess I should be able to wrap this
up soon (I hope). Til next chapter, folks!

A/N2: This chapter's not been betaed, by the way. I'm too ashamed to give this to my
beta after the months of silence on my end

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