Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

…Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end - Luna Lovegood

***

Chapter Seventy-nine - Trust

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

"Harry?"

"Hm?" I hadn't recognized that I dozed off. From a much needed hot shower, and a more needed intimate time with Hermione, my body decided to trump my mind. I hadn't meant to, talking to her about the Ministry of Magic, our thoughts on the situation when I awoke.

My eyes blinked open, and at first my world was but a blur until another blink. I went to move the arm beneath the pillow, my right around Hermione who chose to keep a single light on to read. One of her numerous school books set upright in her lap, her form relaxing at the angle of her pillow. She glanced over at me from her read to smile at my sluggish movement, not realizing I had fallen asleep.

She laughed through her nose when she noticed me going in-and-out of twilight and leaned down to my level. She let her hand loose from the page she was on to kiss me and run her fingers through my hair. She kissed my head again, stating quietly in the closest ear, "I apologize for waking you. I didn't know you went to sleep…"

"I didn't mean-," I stopped when I moved again, moving closer to her. I felt of her warmth beneath the sheet, warmer than any substance or entity I'd ever felt-true warmth. Running my hand to feel the softness of her, to feel where her black shirt and tartan plaid sleep trousers met, I added another, "I'm awake…"

"What were you saying, love?" I yawned.

"Our memories…" she continued her soothing rub of my head.

"Our memories?"

"How they've been manipulated."

"Mm… They have-the headaches-"

"The nothingness of our thoughts… I feel as if, sometimes possibly," I heard her sigh nearside me. "We won't ever get those thoughts back."

I'd become more awake, pondering her lead. I turned onto my side to see more of her. "What are you thinking in that beautiful brain of yours?"

"I just wonder…," she began, a notion of helplessness in her voice. I caught her looking away from me at nothing in particular, her mind reeling. "Should we be so trusting?"

I lay in silence taking her questions in to see her look back down at me and say, "Were those memories good memories? Were they something I'd want to remember?"

"I can only assume the Order instructed the use to remove unwanted memories. I just cannot understand Kingsley scrambling our brains on a whim and at random."

She was lost in thought once more, her eyes glazing over as she went to look at the wall behind me. I asked, "What's got you thinking this?"

"I look over there, Harry, and see our pictures, the photographs…," Her tone slipped into silence when she gazed at me. "I think I would've wanted to know everything, but instead was made to know nothing."

"And," she continued after a brief pause. "Knowing nothing scares me."

I felt the weight of the statement's resonance and immediately said, "Come here."

She lowered to me in instruction.

I placed my hand on her cheek and led her to my lips.

I kissed her, leaving her in a smile.

The smile faded, however, into a type of grave seriousness only Hermione could portray across her features. Her big brown eyes affixed to my own.

"I trust you, Harry."

"And," I answered, affirm. "I trust you."

She shook her head after a beat.

"I trust you." Her eyes stilled on me.

***

At the Minister's Chair, Ministry of Magic

"Do you know what we need in here?"

Draco spread his arms wide, opening up to the backside of the Minister's First Office. His Ministry-emblazoned black suit stretched with him. He leaned on his prosthetic limb, the titanium leg unseen beneath his suit trousers.

"A grand light fixture, like a chandelier with ten thousand candles," He looked back at Kingsley in the light and shadow of the fireplace. A fire roared, the light from the licking flames giving off the discontented atmosphere. Dumbledore's painting, or an empty chair, became almost life-like in the dancing lights.

Draco took his cane again, unable to withstand maximum balance without the device. He gripped the silvery snakehead and put on his best smile. "Something huge-to show off my-!"

"Love…," albeit subdued, Pansy broke her husband's scheming. She placed a gloved hand to her forehead and shook her head at his ridiculousness.

Draco smirked at her, and then heard the quieted laughter and saw the slight grin on Kingsley's look of concern. He'd been staring into the hearth without so much of a word for a while, and Draco thought to break the silence. "Oh Draco…," Kingsley shook his head similarly with Missus Malfoy.

Draco sighed when he saw Kingsley slouch back in his stance, his hands deep in his plum robes. His darkened eyes stared back into the flickering fire.

"Kingsley…," Draco began, serious. "What-?"

"Have I ever thanked you, Draco?" Kingsley started, never moving his sight from the flames before him. Malfoy's grey eyes sought some glimmer of…something in Kingsley, even bowing to capture an essence of life in his features, but found nothing.

"Thanked me?" Draco scoffed. "I should-we all should be thanking you for-"

"You saved me from myself," uttered Kingsley into the burning logs. "You saved me from my greatest enemy: me."

"Without you, old man," the interim Minister jousted at his comrade-in-arms. "I wouldn't have found the strength to be who I am today. To be here-alive-and with a life I so truly cherish."

Pansy smiled from the Minister's chair, snacking on a plate of carrots and baby tomatoes, a late-late night snack. She had waited on her husband, waited to sleep, to be with him after all these sleepless nights. Sleepless, for she hadn't felt him where he should be-with her-like so many other married couples within the Ministry. She understood the reasons, every reason logical in their own right… But she, like a wife, like a… She put her hand to her stomach when Draco smiled at her after his comment.

"You know you're like a son to me, Draco."

Draco chuckled lightly, looking away and into the fire.

"I never had a son-or children-always placing the Order above all else. Even my most basic instincts. My life was the Order. I believe that's my purpose in life-"

"This is sounding more like a eulogy now." Draco cut him off, peering at him from the side.

Kingsley laughed at the accusation, and the reality behind it. "Think of it more like an old man announcing discoveries he already knew. You changed me, Draco."

Draco had gone to the fire and back again at Kingsley.

Both of their stances mimicked each others'.

"I was useless after I found out-"

"I know," interjected a hasty Malfoy. He removed himself from Kingsley and stared into the fire. His eyes instantly lit. "I wish to not relive those awful memories."

"I surrendered everything to Voldemort-"

"And, that's not you." Draco asserted passionately. "You were the better man-"

"I had to relearn what I was, and relearn what it was to be just that."

"Draco," Kingsley pressed. Draco could feel the weight of what was to be said, and that force drove him from the confines of the warm flames.

"I've spoken with them."

"But, we have spoken of this in great detail, Kingsley. They're after-"

"What must be done must be done for the sake of the everyone."

"They will hate you-"

"Let that burden rest on me. You must fulfill your own prophecy. I have given you my Order. This needs to be done so that no harm will come to anyone else."

"Must we use-?"

The double doors of the Minister's First Office swung open to the surprise of the trio inside. A person in white, an Auror, stepped in, interrupting the Minister and his master's conversation. "Sir," the Auror saluted his superiors. "You asked to be notified when they had arrived."

"Well," Draco stepped carefully around in circle. He tilted on his cane. "Have they then?"

"Yes sir," stated the Auror promptly. "Miss Lovegood and Auror Weasley have arrived in the atrium and are being processed to safe quarters. Miss Lovegood has asked only for earl grey tea and a marmalade-and-banana sandwich while she waits. Interesting woman, she is."

Draco shook his head. "Send them to my office and ask Auror Weasley to accompany her. I request to speak to both of them."

The Auror saluted. "Sir."

"And," the interim Minister went to add. "Call for Miss Skeeter. She's in her new room making…"

Draco paused.

"Arrangements. Tell her Luna is back from the States and she will be in my office soon."

The Auror saluted again. "Yes sir."

"Oh, and," Draco went to say as the Auror shut-close the double doors.

"Yes sir?"

"Do let Luna have what she wants to eat-however bizarre you and your colleagues may find it. She is an esteemed guest."

The Auror chuckled beneath his ivory hood. "Yes sir."

***

Several very distinct mumblings could be heard behind the First Office's door with one hush in particular beneath the rambling of men. The double doors were knocked upon by the white glove of an Auror of which guided the newcomers to the chamber of the interim Minister. The muttering stopped, the paintings in the hallway before the Minister's chair abruptly stopping, too, to listen in on what was to come. They sat interested, peering on at the strange fashion originality before them.

"Come in," delivered an authoritarian tone.

The guiding Auror took hold of the double door's latches, half-circle brass loops hanging beneath two aged letter M's. The old oak doors swung open to a lit fireplace blocked haphazardly by the shadows of four individuals. The light found its way to the bright, young individual in her youth who traipsed in followed by an Auror at her heels, his Weasley-red in fluid motion for he hadn't bothered donning his ivory hood.

"Luna," Draco smiled, taking a hobble on his cane forward with his hand out to greet her.

In patchwork-styled cloth, a mismatch of grey, purple, and black shades behind a bluish-silver knee-length coat, Luna placed her warm hand in Draco's. Bracelets of butterbeer bottle caps clink-clanked against each other the fleeting moment they shook, the eccentric blonde curls shifting forward. She took a step, her vibrantly pink trainers offsetting the shine of the darkly stained wooden floor, and wrapped her arms around Draco.

Draco made a laugh, taken by Luna's scene of sincerity, her golden crown against the blackness of his Ministry suit.

He placed his gloved-covered hand atop her head, his hand upon her laureate of Byzantium-white lisianthus, and looked beyond at his companion. He gave him a greeted nod, stating, "He didn't cause you trouble, did he?"

Luna shook her head alongside Draco, making a "Mm-mm," and Draco laughed again when she released from him. She put out her hand, for the Weasley had stayed by the door, and offered encouragement, "Come in from the cold, Ronald."

Ron smiled in the shadow created over his face, and into the firelight when he took Luna's hand and was coerced inwards.

She hadn't seen the other behind Draco, having greeted her welcome between Pansy, Kingsley, and Gregory. Draco moved, stepping towards the Chair and his wife when the illusive one was brought into the spotlight. Draco looked between Luna and the blonde, resting aside the Minister's desk. Kingsley watched their movements, too, and Gregory stood at a standstill as Luna unclasped her hand from a shocked Ronald.

The First Office became silent as one eccentric blonde walked carefully over to the proper-looking one, now resembling nothing like her former self and in Ministry-emblazoned robes. Her blonde hair had been flattened and straightened down, cascading across one eye. Her glasses were off, her makeup less like a clown and more natural to complement her features. She didn't look her age, looking more like Luna and less like her animagus.

Luna stood quizzical, and in a state of disbelief.

She looked between Draco and the woman before her as if this image was a ghost and how anybody could recollect truth from fiction.

"…Rita?" asked a very cautious Lovegood.

More than rivalries, the two had been enemies for so long the thought of Rita unlike herself…

Rita's body language showed a gentleness, and a state of sadness, too, with her hunched over shoulders. She couldn't even look Luna in her eyes but for a second. Her sight stuck glued to the floor when her lips mouthed quietly, "…I apologize for what I did and done to you and your family and friends. I can't do anything about what has happened in the past, but I am hoping to rewrite my mistakes. Prophet Media is no more, Luna, I've not thought one day of bringing that God-forsaken paper ba-"

Rita, so caught up in her words, her thoughts, shook out of her apology and jumped into surprise by the warmth that suddenly encapsulated her. The bluish-silver wool wrapped snuggly around her chilled form, and golden locks tickled her nose.

"Shh…," comforted Luna in her otherworldly way. "…We all make mistakes."

Overcome by emotions, the only thing Rita knew well as of that moment was to cry. And, she did, giving Luna back an embrace she so desperately needed.

Draco, like a statue, moved his eyes between first Pansy, to Kingsley, and then over at Ron who looked just the same. He slid a hand across his face and let out a pent-up breath.

"It's okay…," Luna had Rita's face in her hands and wiped away the streaks of tears from her cheeks. She caressed her forehead and rewrapped her arms around Rita. Saying at her ear, she whispered, "…It's all over, and I'm so happy you're here with us."

"Welcome home, Rita."

***

"The information Rita has given us is invaluable beyond measure. We now know the proximity of Death Eater cells, and the numbers we hadn't known. We knew our calculations had to be false when suddenly we had far more coming from the walls than predicted."

"In defense, I did take into consideration recruitment measures, which is why I flew to various hot spots around the world and discussed with governments their population involvement with Death Eaters."

The First Office had become a boardroom of classified talks. Draco had sent word that no one may enter until he gave the call. The doors had been sealed shut and were occupied by Aurors. Enchantments had been placed on the room to muffle their voices. If one tried to listen the individual would only hear the Bach or Beethoven being played constantly in their ears until the individual walked a fair distance away.

"We will never be able to correctly count the Death Eaters who have not been tagged."

"The `five percent or less' calculation was for those who have been," Kingsley noted, sitting amongst the others. Chairs had been placed in a circular formation starting with the Minister's Chair. Pansy left for bed, relieving the confines for Draco to sit in as the head of the conversation.

"They're not amassing in the cities. They're amassing on the outskirts, where people will never find them, in the disrepute areas where they can group together and disrupt those cities," Rita offered input from her chair, a quill and pad in-hand. Even though she may have looked fifteen years younger, the quill and parchment never left her fingers. "To destroy, to maim and murder their targets."

"Do they have a leader?" asked Ronald. He had chosen to stand beside Luna instead of taking a seat. He did, however, have a seat readily available if he did want to sit. "Do they have ranks? Do they look up to one central being like Voldemort?"

"We're positive that they haven't such a system like that anymore and are more or less spread out groups. Our teams have intercepted owls since the Fall of Azkaban throughout Europe and Asia. The United States has seen some commotion, but not at the aptitude we see in England. There is a yearning for the continuation of a being such a Voldemort-which was the way of Nolpho, and the dastardly Sarilda. It's an unfortunate consequence when they know they were so close in their own resurrection."

Draco paused a moment.

"We continue to muddle their attempts at communication. We've taken into custody some Death Eaters, such as that boy an Auror nearly killed in a fit of rage against murdering his family-"

"I only wish you'd reconsider your current state of affairs to strike back at them," Kingsley spoke in posthaste. "We need not quarrel with Ministry politics when the very country is teetering-"

"People are in the streets. They're lost. They're confused. They distrust the Ministry more now than after the War," Draco answered from behind his gloved hands, his elbows on the Minister's desk. He had flicked his eyes towards the plum robes. "If I am to be Minister I want to do what is right, not what is easy."

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" piped Ronald from his corner.

"Draco wishes to hold an election," Kingsley replied to Ronald, and then looked sternly at Draco. "And as your teacher, I suggest we do not risk it. We cannot afford to lose the Office!"

"What if another Death Eater finds his way into the Chair again?" asked Ron.

"They won't," Draco peered in the Weasley's direction. "I have full faith in the people to realize what's in front of them."

Kingsley huffed. "Just like last time? I wish I had more trust in others… I can only trust the Order, and myself in this moment."

"Maybe that's why you wish me here instead of you?" offered Draco.

The crowd all turned toward Kingsley who went speechless, and then lowered to nod his head. "Myself, and the Order is behind your decisions."

"I want to help."

All eyes went to Luna.

In the oversized chair, she'd been sitting with her hands on her knees listening to the roundtable discussion intently.

"That is," she said in her sweet, wispy voice. "I wish to help. The Quibbler may have taken a one-two punch, but it's not knocked out."

"I believe that's the correct metaphor?" her eyes wandered about the room at the different sets and smiles.

"And, as your newly appointed Press Minister, Draco," Rita issued behind Luna. "I'll make the impossible possible if needed. I'll work with you and the team unequivocally, day and night."

"And, Miss Granger said she'll work with us to keep-"

"Hermione?" Ron injected, abashed for but a second, and sighed with an air of annoyance. "Of course she would…

He threw his hands in the air. "She's `Hermione Granger'. But what about Harry?"

"What about Harry?" Draco repeated Ron's question.

He looked over at Kingsley.

"This is as good of time as ever to tell them, Draco."

Draco sighed into the hands covering his mouth. He laid them down on the desk, and then pushed back in his chair. Looking up at the ceiling he began, gazing back down at Ronald and Luna when he spoke. "A few days ago we received a letter addressed specifically to me, `Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic'. The letter was…odd…as the letter wasn't written, but cut out from old Daily Prophet's and Quibbler's and pasted to write out my name and the title. Each letter had a different font, a different size…"

"One of our Dark Arts Task Teams went straight ahead de-cursing the letter, but in another strange twist it seemed there wasn't anything cursed-a mere letter."

"Whomever it was has to be an aspiring youth for this looked to be out of one of those comic books: the psychopath's letter," noted Kingsley.

"Where have you been?" expressed Ron rhetorically after the word `psychopath'.

"But we took the letter personally," Draco's grey irises went from Kingsley and back at Ronald and Luna. "It's not like we hadn't strange letters before, most containing cursed material our teams destroyed. This letter, however, was blank."

"Blank?" questioned Ron. "A blank parchment? A little odd, yeah."

"But, it wasn't," added Kingsley. "Far from it."

"The parchment had magicks placed on it. A type of magic that isn't amateur, bringing a certain seriousness to the equation," Draco paused a beat, and then continued. "I don't know how many hours it took to decrypt the magic, but in the end the written words finally appeared from the parchment."

"Four words," uttered Kingsley. "Four dreaded words."

Draco went from Kingsley, shut his eyes a moment, and reopened them at Ronald and Luna:

"We know he's alive was scribbled hastily in magicks."

"Why get Hermione involved in this, then? Why bring her into something so volatile, so evil-?!"

"Even with the help of Rita and Miss Lovegood," Kingsley broke into Ron's outburst with Malfoy. "We have little chance to redeem the Order. The people's trust is damaged!"

"The Hell with the Order, then! This is Hermione you're risking!"

"Harry will be there, Weasley-"

Kingsley shot up from his chair. "If we lose the Office, Ronald, there won't be a `Hermione' left! There won't be any of us left! We'll all have doomed ourselves to Hell! Think of what happened during the War, and then that multiplied by what happened after the Fall of Azkaban!"

"We don't know how many are out there!" shouted Kingsley, making grand sweeps with his arms and hands. "And that thought ought to scare you more!"

"I won't do it-!"

"You will!" Kingsley pointed at Ronald. "You gave the Oath! It must be done!"

The flash of anger could be seen glazed over the cerulean-colour of Ronald's surreal windows of his soul.

"Then I break my Oath!"

Draco pushed from the desk and slammed his fist on the table, shaking everyone from the squabble between the Weasley and the leader of the Order to the interim Minister.

"I will not have this in-fighting! This will break our bonds before we're even appointed under Ministry Law!" He looked at Kingsley first, and then to Ronald. "I'd like to have a word with you alone before you make any rash decisions."

"I've made up my mind, Draco!"

"Please, Ronald." Draco peered onwards at his student, and one of the better Aurors centred in the Order.

Ronald seethed with anger, but was stopped short before another anger-filled outburst and walk out when he felt warmth placed around his leather-gloved hands. He looked down hastily to see Luna having taken his hand in hers. Her silvery-grey orbs merely blinked upwards at him in his firm stance, but nevertheless made his anger melt away from the redness in his ears down and out his toes.

***

"It'll never be the same."

Dismissed, everyone but Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley was left in the First Office. Draco was standing, supported by his father's cane, with his back towards Hermione's guardian. He eagerly gazed on at the empty painting of Albus Dumbledore. He hadn't come back in… Years. There on day, gone the next, to leave his chair lonesome. The firelight would mimic a shadow of him, but only briefly; and after being let down, for Draco had nothing else from him, he didn't jump as he did before.

"Malfoy?"

"Remember when we were taught at Hogwarts all about the history of the magical universe? Well, we weren't taught about all its…intricacies. That I know now for sure."

"I know I was a bit of an arse in school…to practically everyone, really, but I do miss the days when we were all naive. Innocent. When I pulled pranks, took it out on the teachers, lived in detention with Crabbe and Goyle…" Draco sighed listlessly into the abandoned painting.

"Something I've learned from Luna, Malfoy," Draco only heard him from behind, still staring into the painting. "The past is past, we can only move forward. I'd just like to know why we have to use Hermione-and Harry-they're happy now."

"Would you have saved me in the Room of Requirement, Weasley? Like Harry did?"

"I'm just glad Harry did."

Draco produced a wry grin. "This is why I'll be forever indebted to Harry. He has a certain, well, let's say place in my heart. I know Missus Malfoy in the next room thinks the life of him. I've sworn to protect them both. He's made it quite clear to me, and Kingsley, that Hermione is much a part of him as he is to her. And, the magicks we used…"

"Do you know we didn't know? We took a risk resurrecting Harry. He could've been something else, a monster, a true creature of terror from the bowels of the Dark Arts."

"What has this to do with me? I've made it clear: I won't follow orders if I consider those orders outside of what I believe it right. And, bringing them into all this-again-look at what has happened before. It can happen again."

"Which is why you're needed more than ever."

"Malfoy-"

"You know, I never did address Luna. We went straight into our titillating discussion and never asked her about the funeral. How was it?"

The only noise throughout the Office became the crackling of the fire.

"…Aedirwen was placed to rest beautifully."

"It's exhausting, Ronald. These funerals we go to. Do you know how many of them I've been to? Too many. I've lost track. It could be hundreds. A thousand. I can't even remember their names it's been so many. And, today, Neville Longbottom's?"

Draco finally turned around to meet Ronald's cerulean discs so vibrant in the semi-darkness watching him across his desk.

"I won't go into dramatic detail…only saying there is some difficulty with the way we think and the old thoughts of the Order."

"'Old Order'?"

"But a phrase to indicate Kingsley's part to ours-or `Dumbledore's Army'-what I consider the New Order, or new way of thinking. Kingsley is as much as an asset to me now than he ever was. He was my teacher. He is the father figure I had after the Death Eaters tore my father's body to pieces-how I found him with mother. But he thinks one way, and we think another. He is politics, and I believe we are here to continue Dumbledore's plan."

"He doesn't trust Dumbledore anymore. After Harry died, he gave up believing and became who he is now. Kingsley isn't bad, he's just set in his ways. This is why I know he wants me to continue on with what has been set for us rather than him. He knows he's changed, and life's changed him. We are the new generation."

"I trust you, Ronald. This is why I ask you, not as interim Minister, not as your superior, but as a friend putting his hand out to you because we need you. I need you."

"What was Dumbledore's plan, anyway?"

"He may have been a bit enigmatic, but in the end we believe he did what he did to give us happiness. In the end, that's what I want, too. Ronald…"

Draco's eyes lingered over to the door which kept out the noise from the First Office.

"Pansy's pregnant."

"Malfoy…" Astonished, Ron made a face. "I mean…congratulations? When-?"

Draco put a hand up. "I only wish to give you this information to provide evidence that, like Albus, I want this happiness. Not just for everyone, but for my heir. For my wife, and my child."

***

"Do you believe he will be found? You've entrusted him to protect his beloved-of which I would do the same for mine-and very much like Potter-"

"I've put too much at stake for him to come of harm. The necklace he gave her, the Hippogriff feather, that held the key the catalyst would use. She would use the knowledge we gave her, the apothecary cabinet we filled, her undying resolve in bringing him back," Kingsley gazed upwards at the ceiling enchanted to resemble the sky, and the dawn of a brand new day began to rise and bring with it the different oranges, blues, and purples of the clouds. "He won't be lost again."

"That," Kingsley looked back at Draco behind the Minister's desk. "I know for certain."

"I believe the people will elect me-"

"I will not play Russian roulette with our future, Draco."

Draco sat quietly for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He opened his black leather-gloved hands up so Kingsley could see the mouth he had hidden. "Your judgment to date hasn't led false, and you did craft the next Minister of Magic."

Kingsley sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, satisfied. "Please go tend to your wife, Draco. You've had sleepless nights for ages. Why not have at least one good sleep before the next hurdle?"

Draco went to speak, but Kingsley stopped him by saying, "Allow me to be the bearer of burdens, if only for one night. Sleep, Draco, be with Pansy. She needs you as much as the Chair needs you, and as much as we need you."

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

She slipped from me when the first set of rings sprung loudly from the alarm.

I awoke a second time with Hermione back in my arms after another set of alarms shouted at us. This time Hermione lifted up and nearly knocked the clock off her night stand. Parts of me, an arm, my hands remained on-and-off her form. I felt of her soft pyjamas, and the even softer covered, beloved being beneath. The lamp light flicked on, and blinking at the sudden illumination, I saw a very blurry outline of my lover.

She had her hands on her face, or I thought, tracing the straight and curved lines. I heard her grumble, grunt, and then sigh. Meanwhile, I stayed rather still…and snickered sleepily.

On my stomach, I felt her smack my bare back. Her movement upward had taken the sheets and quilt from my form.

"Just you wait! When you're having the best sleep you've ever had!..."

"We can always call your mum and-"

She knew I poked fun, but still made a face-however blurry it was-and said, "Negative."

She pushed away from me, pushing on me, too, saying in a yawn, "Time to get ready and-Eeek!"

I had her.

I'd crawled, or jolted, whichever, the small distance and caught her about her middle. She squealed when her old grizzly bear rubbed his stubble all over her. I pulled her into the cave, the sheets being tossed over our heads. She squealed more, the squeals turning into giggles, and then into laughter as she tried so very hard to get away from me.

But not at the same time.

"No-no-no-Harry! We have to-!"

She fell back into the mattress, sheets and all poofing up and outward when she bounced backwards on the bed.

I had her, her arms, her legs-pinned.

I growled, my face so very close with her.

Showed my teeth…and growled, again, through a smile that I couldn't hide to save my life.

"-Leave," she said in her last breath.

I debated, I really did, about letting her go or not.

The smile kept on my form, and she rolled her eyes and tried to twist away, but my strength and weight had her down nicely.

I winked at her.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

"You're incorrigible…" she said, defeated.

"What will you do for me if I let you go?"

"Put you in a leg-locking curse and beat your arse."

She smirked at the end.

"Or…"

"Harry…," her smirk faded. She looked back at the clock, and then at me. "We haven't any time to pla-"

I let her hands and feet loose.

My immediate withdrawal led her to her elbows.

Her brow cocked. "Er…"

"Get to it, then," I ushered, making a nod towards the room. "Time to get ready, eh?"

"Right…," She remained quizzical, sliding from underneath me. She made it bedside, and the moment her feet landed on the wooden floor did I slip over, slipping along the sheets, and smacked her little bum before she could respond.

She did respond, however, in a tiny jump after.

She looked back at me and saw I'd gotten off the bed slowly, having picked my glasses up, and was coming after her in chase.

"Harry-Harry-Ha-no!"

"Mwahahahaa!!"

In one swoop I'd picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder.

I kicked open the lavatory door, and then kicked it closed behind.

From inside, the high-pitched squeals and giggles started again.

***

I left her in the lavatory singing to pop songs on the radio.

Fixing the knot of my tie of crocodile, leaf, and turtle green slanted stripes, I meandered on out of the master bedroom and out on the third floor landing. While tightening the knot, I gazed over the banister at the floors below. I noted the quietness, and the coldness. I took a breath and sighed, thinking aloud in my head how I hoped Ginny would be in bed. Downstairs could get cold quickly in the wintry London months without a fire…if she had wanted to camp out downstairs for whatever reason.

While wandering the steps to the second landing I thought to myself how maybe, maybe my words were a bit harsh. They needed to be firm, but I didn't want to sound cruel. Her boyfriend…or however she called him…he had died. He was my best friend, too, so I understood to a point the sadness she radiated. If it weren't for Hermione and how she made me sanely happy, I probably would have tore up the flat starting with every nail bolting down the wooden floors and wooden walls.

With all these funerals…and all the memories of what could have been…

The door to the guest bedroom was closed.

I knocked first, lightly, my black, unbuttoned jacket swaying to the action. The white cuff of my dress shirt appeared slightly from the charcoal sleeve, and I knocked again. I hoped to get an answer, to hear her stir when I placed an ear up to the door, but found nothing of the sort.

Gently, I turned the knob and opened the door a crack.

I peered in at a made bed and a clean room, too clean for a no vacancy.

"Gin?" I called for her, opening the door further. I poked my head in and looked around in the semi-darkness. "Ginny?"

I let the door open and went over to the ornate, wooden railing and peered over into more semi-darkness.

"Ginny?" I called a bit louder. My hands gripped the rail and I called out sternly, "Weasel!"

I waited for a reply to get…

Silence.

Moving downstairs to the bottom floor, the moment my dress trainers hit its end my wand was up. With a wave, a swish and a flick, the fireplace roared to life. "Gin?" My voice grew shorter the farther I got into the den.

Rounding the sofa, I saw more of the same:

Nothing.

I put my hands on hips, peeling away the two pieces of black fabric to set at my belt loops, and closed my eyes. While closed, I drew a breath and let the breath out slowly. I tried to stay calm and think. If she wasn't to be found upstairs, and here…

And, with Hermione as oblivious as I was, in the bedroom, singing her morning joy while prepping herself for the day out…

I let out a curse under my breath.

"Fuck."

A offered a beat in the silence, looking around at the emptiness of my living space.

I moved in strides when I noticed something hovering over the kitchen table.

I plucked it out of the air, a piece of parchment penned in scrawl, keenly Weasel:

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused over the past few days. I've gone back to mum's… I need to talk to dad. Bad. I need to get my head straight. I feel like I've been torn to shreds little by little and he's always been the one I've went to…

…Besides Neville.

Apologies,

Gin

When I appeared back in the master bedroom, the lavatory door had stayed open halfway. And, just like I left her, she was singing happily to the catchy pop tunes.

"…I'm going crazy without you… You're all I ever wanted; you're all I ever needed-yeah."

She was smiling into the mirror, dancing a little in her gorgeous black dress and heels. She went about tying a forest green bow in her dark, flowing mahogany tresses, utterly aglow.

"So, tell me what to do now-when I want-you-back."

***

She tried Gin's mobile phone.

She tried calling out to the Weasley household through the fireplace.

She paced back and forth through the kitchen and the den, thinking out loud, struggling to find a way to get in touch with her best friend.

I tried telling her that she was with her dad, and that was good enough; even though, I could feel her heart-strings pull through mine.

She finally toppled over on the sofa and hugged a cushion until I came to her aide. Then, she hugged me. It hurt me to see Hermione hurt.

She cried.

"It feels like a piece of me has up and disappeared," she told me.

Wiping her eyes of those tears, I said in the most comforting way possible that we'd be late for Mass if we stayed any longer.

And, that we would surely see her this evening at Neville's funeral.

With a bit of coaxing, I held her hand as we went for the door and exited Number Twelve; but, not before Hermione took one last look back into the unimaginable stillness of our Number Twelve.

***

{Author's Note: So, JK finally revealed the obvious over the weekend, eh? Took her long enough. Makes me want to go back into cinema and make my own seven movies centered around HHr ;) Also, Rita's reformed/ Press Minister look is based on the Rita we see in the pensieve during the Goblet of Fire film.}

{Music Inspirations: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 Soundtrack, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Soundtrack (especially Lily's Theme and the Battle of Hogwarts), O' Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, Otherside by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, If I Ever Lose My Faith in You by Sting, Fix You by Coldplay, Crazy by Seal, I Want You Back by N'Sync}

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