"Mr Potter, how lovely to see you again," said the chambermaid as Harry entered into the Weasley's strange country home. He had been here time and time again and it never ceased to amaze him how the house itself stayed together - even with the help of magic, it seemed entirely peculiar. It had downsized, however, since only Ginevra and Charles remained at home with their parents. The rest of the Weasley children had moved on with their marriages, into town homes of their own.

And though Harry was quite well off, he still fancied a court with Ginevra more than he ought. Most men in his position would have been ashamed to be seen within several yards of the country home, but he loved the Weasley family with all his heart, and did not ever think of abandoning their amiable nature towards him. Far be it for him to reject them when they had wholly taken him in without knowledge of his respectable position in society.

Though raised an orphan, Harry had been left a large sum of money from his mysterious, but otherwise well-off, parents. Never having access of it until later in his life, he had been raised by his foolish and middle-class relatives, who used him as nothing more than a servant himself. He was more than thankful to have been rid of them since the age of eleven where he'd been taken away by a kindly gentleman by the name of Albus who had provided him with more than he could ever dream of.

In Albus' society he had made acquaintances with the Weasley family and had taken a liking to their youngest son, Ronald. Since meeting them, it was ever in his stars to one day take the very youngest Weasley's hand in marriage, and even now he did not dream of questioning it. She was a lovely young woman who was incredibly spirited and moreover a dear friend to him when he needed one. He spoke quite candidly with her and she never minded.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley cried as she came down the stairs, forgoing any formalities that society often required. He was practically her son and she dare not treat him any differently. "How good of you to come!"

"Of course, Mrs Weasley, I should not think to neglect seeing you after such a trip abroad," Harry exclaimed, smiling openly. He had not seen her in many months since he had been sought by a business man to travel to New York in America, to prospect in future dabbling. He had no doubt he would spend the rest of the day and most of the evening regaling his tales of what America was like. Undoubtedly it was less refined, but Harry had not lived in high society long enough to think it despicable. He had found it quite the opposite, in fact. It had been refreshing and enjoyable. "How have you faired these long months?"

Mrs Weasley was quick to get into a discussion of the many things her family had been doing. Charles was currently away on a scholarly trip touring several of the smaller countries of Western Europe, and Ron and his wife had spent the winter months with her aunt and uncle in London. William's Parisian born wife was recently pregnant but despite this they had travelled to France to visit her mother. They would probably not be back to England until well after the child was born and Mrs Weasley was quite forlorn over this.

"Ginevra has spent the past fortnight with Ronald, but they return tonight. I do hope they'll be spending the evening with us, for I'm sure you have much more than can be told in a single night," Mrs Weasley continued with fervour. "I'm very sure if you implore them, they will not be able to refuse."

Harry chuckled quietly at Mrs Weasley's antics, but he could not deny her. He spent the rest of the early day with Mrs Weasley speaking of his less seedy exploits in America. His only moment of rest was when she took him out into the garden in order to gain his opinion on the changes that had been made while he had been away. They were then taken in for tea and Harry continued his tales, lingering particularly on the return voyage which had been most harrowing when the weather did not permit.

"Mother," came a female voice during Harry's conversation with Mrs Weasley about residencies and taking a permanent home in the Ottery-St. Catchpole countryside. Though Harry much preferred the excitement and business of London, he could not deny the beauty the countryside held and what peace it might prevail upon him.

A young, vibrant girl with fiery red hair entered the room in a huff. Upon seeing Harry sitting with the formidable Mrs Weasley, she immediately stopped short and curtsied, a blush seeping into her freckled, but handsome, features. This was, of course, no other than the lovely Miss Weasley and Harry immediately stood for her. He smiled warmly and her blush deepened.

"Mr Potter," Miss Weasley was quick to smile in his direction as she regained her composure. "How delightful. I did not think to expect you so soon."

"My utmost apologies," Harry made a quick bow before her. "I did not expect to arrive so soon, otherwise I would have been sure to send word. I am sincerely glad that I have not missed you."

Miss Weasley smiled wholly, the blush not dissipating. It was well-known, even to Harry as improper as it might have been, that Ginevra was quite infatuated with him and had been since the day she had met him. There was no denying his handsome and remarkable features and his eligibility. She and Mrs Weasley had both been most pleased when they were told that, come the time that Harry so wished, he would have Miss Weasley's hand in marriage.

"Harry," Ronald was next to enter the room, arm in arm with his charming wife.

And from there they persisted in hearing everything there was to know about Harry's voyages. He thought, with some apprehension, that he would not get a moments rest the rest of the evening. And when Mrs Weasley dared to ask that they stay the evening so that they may hear more of Harry's adventures, Harry briefly wished that they might decline. Naturally, they did no such thing, and therefore Harry was quite grateful when the ladies and Mr Weasley retired for the evening and it was just himself and Ron left sitting in the parlour.

"Now tell me, mate, what was New York really like?" Ron dared to ask, and Harry dared to tell him what he had truly seen in New York, which was a much less fabricated and hardened version of what he had told the ladies. Although he had spent his time with several very respectable men, it was not beneath him to spend his time with more open society.

- - -

Harry spent Saturday and Sunday at the Weasleys, spending much of his time in the redecorated garden (which he thought had only added to its overgrown loveliness.) He also spent quite a bit of time in the unguarded company of Miss Weasley, who dared to tell him of the trifles and gossip that had gone on in town whilst he was gone. It was in these moments that Harry was harshly reminded of how little he truly loved Miss Weasley as he should have done, and how much more he loved her as, perhaps, he might have loved a sister, should he have had one.

It was disconcerting, but this was neither the first or last time Harry would ever think such a thing. Even so, he did not deign to think that spending the rest of his life with her would be miserable or intolerable. It was not to say she did not make him happy or he did not enjoy her company, which was the most one could ask of in a marriage as preordained as theirs.

Still, he was quite thankful when he was able to take leave of them and return to his own home in town. Though Harry quite loved the Weasleys as one would love his own family, he really did prefer his time spent alone. While the Weasleys quite understood, this often made the rest of society think him to be quite a proud and solitaire young man. He did not, however, ever deny it, even if it might be wrong.

As he sat in his study, quill in hand, there was a knock at his door and he looked up to see one of his maids slowly enter, bowing. She strode forward quickly and precisely.

"Master Potter, there is a gentleman presenting his card whom wishes to speak to you," she said, offering the card to him. Harry took it, surprised that someone would be calling on him so soon. He was even more surprised, however, when he read the name upon the card.

"Please send him in," Harry said, setting aside his quill and tucking away the letter he had been writing. He tidied his desk before standing as the door opened and a young man entered into the room. The young man took off his hat and bowed before him, though he was in no position to do such a thing. In society, he was a much greater man than Harry could hope to achieve in status. Born with such distinction, if Harry was deemed as proud, this man should be thought of as completely conceited. "Mr Malfoy."

Mr Malfoy looked upon him dourly and Harry wondered with what intentions did Draco Malfoy call on him at such a late hour. It did not seem to be good news at all, since he did not seem to want to speak, though he did after a brief pause. It would seem that the silence was too much for him to bear.

"Mr Potter," he said, his gaze shifting uncertainly around the room before settling on the man he had come to call on. "I pray that your return voyage went smoothly."

"Not at all," Harry said in good humour, but it did not seem to strike Mr Malfoy. Though by no means did these two men have very good relations with one another, Harry had never seen Mr Malfoy look quite as miserable as he did just then. They had known one another since children and had, therefore, hated one another since children. As years had progressed and time played its part in healing old wounds, Harry did not hate Mr Malfoy quite as much as he had in previous years. And in fact they had spent quite an ample amount of time in each other's company while in New York, though Mr Malfoy had returned to England much sooner than Harry had wished to.

"I come with good news," Mr Malfoy continued. "On your part, not mine. My father has passed from this world into the next."

Harry was a bit disgruntled by this. He had never cared for the elder Malfoy, though he had never wished him dead and to have the younger Malfoy assume that Harry would find this in good humour displeased him, if not angered him.

"I cannot say that is good news on any part," Harry said at length. "Quite the opposite, in fact, I am sorry to hear it."

"I am not," Mr Malfoy said and Harry was quite surprised by his candidness and lack of composure. Though Harry could not claim to know the man well, what he had seen of Malfoy in his lifetime was constant composure, and though perhaps aloof due to his inexorable pride, he was always completely guarded in what he said to the general public. "I truly cannot say I feel any remorse on the subject. Lord Malfoy was not an agreeable man with anyone, least of all myself, though I feel as his only son and heir it is my duty to carry out his wishes, however foul they might be."

"And dare I ask what his wishes were that they be thought of as foul?" Harry asked, entirely confused as to why Malfoy would be telling him any of this to begin with. What was it that the late Lord Malfoy wished that would bring his son upon Harry's doorstep? And was it in his will to find out, should the answer be most foul, as Malfoy implied it to be?

"Murder," Mr Malfoy said to Harry's alarm.

"That is most foul and I daresay not a wish I would adhere to no matter who was to wish unto me," Harry answered, and it was by far the truth. It was not Harry's right to judge and determine who should live and who should die and if not he, he thought with considerable pride, then the contemptuous thoughts of the elder Malfoy should not even be considered. It was quite well known that Lucius Malfoy had been at the center of many suspicious deaths and most had been of respectable, amiable men.

"Neither I, and in most senses, I am not," Mr Malfoy said in answer and Harry was quite relieved to hear it. Though he, in many ways, did not like Mr Malfoy, he never had thought it as low of him as to commit murder. He may not have been an agreeable sort, but Harry found that he did have a respectability in his moral sense. He had never done harm to a person physically, though he had quite damaged a few men in their standing, but least of all to anyone who did not deserve it. "I am merely expressing what he might have wished to have done, which I am happy to say that he did not get around to doing."

"And who did he intend to murder, then?" Harry asked, wondering why it was important that Mr Malfoy declare whom his father had intended to murder. "And of what importance does it bear on me?"

Mr Malfoy took a few steps forward.

"You are the chief person he wished to do away with," Mr Malfoy said and Harry could not say he was surprised at this bit of news. Many men that the elder Malfoy had been in league with wished Harry dead and in fact he had come quite close to dying many times in the course of his lifetime. It was nothing new to him and he had learned, strangely, to simply not fret over it. When death came to him, it would come swiftly and he would welcome it. "I am merely here to warn you that he was not the sole benefactor in this wish."

"Thank you," Harry said with a nod. He understood what a trouble it must be for Malfoy to come forward with this knowledge. Surely warning Harry about his own impending murder attempts placed Malfoy's own head upon a target. "Though I cannot say this is new knowledge to me. Unfortunately for myself, your father was not the only one who wished me dead. I am quite well aware of the large number of men that would wish away my existence."

"Do not misunderstand me. I am more than aware of your knowledge of your current situation. I do not dare to say otherwise," Malfoy went on. "However I do dare to say that there may be attempts quite soon and from people you might believe your allies. I know not how deep my father's influence was over a few of your chosen companions; however I dare say by the end of the week you will receive an unlikely betrayal."

"How do you know this?" Harry was now filled with concern. Who might betray him was now on the top of his list of worries.

"He was my father, Mr Potter. I cannot claim to have understood him, but he met with quite a few people and often I was there. He has seen to several of the Weasleys and I can say not all have met with the fierce dislike they claim to have for my family. I have reason to believe he made a few of them some offers."

"Which of them has met with him?" Harry demanded to know at once. Perhaps not proper, but propriety was lost on him at this moment. If one of his own deigned to murder him, he would like to know who.

"Nearly all," answered Malfoy. "The only ones I can say have not been to see him before his death were the Miss Weasley and her mother."

After this strange and altogether unwelcome information, Harry was unsure how to go about himself. Malfoy excused himself and left his home shortly thereafter, only saying that he could merely guess at whom, but Harry was not welcome to it. He did not care to suppose who might murder him before the week was out and he did not dare to think that it would be any of his beloved Weasleys.

He could not suppose that perhaps this was all a bit of trickery and that Malfoy had meant for him to suspect the closest people he had to family. And perhaps it was nothing at all. Lucius Malfoy was dead, so why would anyone carry out his wish for murder besides his own son? Though Harry tried not to think ill of the man who warned him of imminent betrayal, he could not help him upon reflecting of their history.