Millicent Bullstrode looked up from her position on the floor of her cell, her dark violet eyes flashing as she watched the Auror pulling up the chair to sit just on the other side of the magical barrier. Rolling her eyes Millicent leaned back against the wall, her hand playing with the hem of her dirty smock as she hummed a Christmas carol under her breath.

"M. Bullstrode, a convicted Death Eater and practitioner of the Dark Arts," Millicent snorted, but the Auror continued, "The Wizardgamout has been asked to review your file by your legal advisor, and has found that though a Death Eater you were not active. And the extent of your Dark Arts activity was to the lesser degree of unapproved Healing."

"Weasley, why the hell are you telling me this," Millicent asked her eyes cracking open to look at the red-haired man who she had taken great pleasure in tormenting for the better part of six years. "I mean you were the one to arrest me; you should bloody well know what I was convicted for."

Ron closed the file with a sigh, "I know, and that was why I convinced your council to re-open your case. You weren't involved in the war-."

Millicent laughed, getting to her knees she crawled forward so that she was just in front of him the barrier separating them shimmering as she approached. Kneeling in a position that if the thin magic wasn't there would have been decidedly inappropriate, Millicent cocked her head to the side and looked up at him through dirty lengths of hair, "I was very much involved in the war Weasley."

"That isn't what I found-," Ron bit out but Millicent's smile made him cut himself off, "What the hell are you smiling about?"

"You," sitting back she basked in his ire, "Pleading for my life, quite a change from when you threw me in here."

Ron leaned forward so that the barrier was only a hairs breath away from him, "I thought it strange that the heir to the Bullstrode family fortune should sit in prison while rats like Nott and Flint were getting out. So I looked into it, do you know what I found?"

Millicent pointedly turned away from him, Ron breath made the barrier shimmer, "You had wanted to be a Healer, probably would have been if the war hadn't broken out."

Millicent glared at him, "I am a Healer."

Ron smirked, "Really? Looks like you are a prisoner."

"Fuck you Weasel," Millicent whispered turning her gaze away once more but making no move to scoot away from the barrier, and the first person she had been close to in Merlin knew how long.

"I guess your Death Eater friends didn't hold to you helping the enemy," Ron continued, his eyes watching her for the smallest hint at her feelings, he watched as her breath hitched for a moment before continuing as normal, "I remember."

Millicent stiffened, resolving herself she stood up as quickly as her unused muscles would allow. Ron followed her movements with his eyes, marveling at the changes that the years had done to her. Between the lack of rations and the physical labor demanded of her in the Death Eater ranks, and the almost lack of anything nutritional from the guards of the prison, Millicent had become a shell of her former self. Her brown hair was shorn short to help keep the bugs from infesting so easily, the wild lengths only reaching to her ears at their longest. Her violet eyes stood out from sunken cheek bones, dirt and sweat clung to her smock that hung off her small frame; looking at her Ron couldn't reconcile the small frail waif with the girl who had been compared to a female version of Gregory Goyle. Her nose turned slightly upwards in a haughty manner that seemed to place her beyond the stone walls that bound her.

"I was injured after a raid in the Highlands, I had chased a group of Death Eaters into the woods and fell down a ravine," Ron stood up walking so that he was facing her unless she turned to face the wall, "I hit my head in the fall, and had lost my wand. The Death Eaters must have stopped because I heard them arguing above me. I blacked out; I was so sure that I was a dead man. I could have been out for seconds, or hours but when I woke up I was on the forest floor and someone was healing me. They forced a potion down my throat, between that and the hit to my head I was slowly slipping into the darkness again."

"What do I care that someone healed you? Should I celebrate that some worthless traitor saved your life?" Millicent stepped forward her face pale and fire in her eyes, "Oh my joy is beyond words that you are alive and here now to allow me the pleasure of your freckled face."

Ron clenched his jaw in anger, his face flushing with anger, "I saw your eyes."

"You were suffering from a concussion, and probably given a sleeping draught," Millicent hissed, "You were delirious."

"I thought so at first, I mean who has purple eyes," Ron reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against the barrier waves of gold following the path of his fingers as they brushed the barrier that prevented his fingers from touching her cheek, "But then when I saw you among the prisoners at the surrender, I knew I hadn't imagined it."

Millicent made to move back but his voice bit out, stopping her from retreating, "It was you. You saved my life after that raid."

"You are a fool," her voice was low, leveling cool eyes on him, "Why could you not just leave it alone? I deserve to be in here Weasley, leave me be."

Ron sucked in his breath as if she had slapped him, "Do you want to die in here?"

Millicent walked over to the small cot shoved against the wall. Curling herself into the corner Millicent stared at the wall in obvious dismissal of the Auror.

Ron glared at her, his jaw ticking in frustration. His hand tingled from the small contact with the barrier, looking down at it he let it drop to his side. His spine stiffening he walked back to the chair he had previously occupied, picking up the file he let his eyes skim briefly on the small form huddled only a few feet from him. Those few feet felt as if it were a chasm miles wide, and no matter how much he stretched he knew that he would never be able to reach her.

"I owe you, my life," Ron whispered, "Consider this my payment."

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Fred groaned as his son let out a shriek of laughter, rolling over he buried his head under his wife's pillow, the sound muffling slightly under the soft weight. Another burst of laughter made his ears ring, with a curse Fred threw the pillow away and flipped onto his back. His tired eyes studied the cracked plaster ceiling of his bedroom, flinching when he heard Georgie excitedly ran from his bedroom to the bathroom followed by the sedate walk of his mother. The sound of running water and Luna's quiet melodic voice did nothing to soothe his rising temper, instead it just provoked it. Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Fred ran weary hand over his face.

"I'm sorry did we wake you?"

Fred looked up to see his wife leaning against the doorway; Georgie could be heard splashing in the bathroom. Getting to his feet Fred shook his head, "I needed to get up anyways."

"I was thinking that perhaps we could go on a picnic today," Luna ventured her eyes straying to the open bathroom door where she could see her son happily sinking his pirates ship, "My father offered to watch Georgie-."

"I have to do some work for the shop," Fred said cutting her off, stripping out of his pajama bottoms and t-shirt he pulled out fresh clothes from their closet, eyes flashing over the old Quidditch gear he had shoved at the back, "Maybe another day."

Luna nodded, turning to go back to Georgie who was drenching the bathroom. Fred breathed out a sigh of regret as he watched her stooped shoulders. Pulling on his sweater he yanked his pants on before rummaging through the bottom of the closet for his shoes. His head snapped forward as something soft and wet hit him in the back of the head, whirling around Fred stared incredulously at his wife, "What the hell was that for?"

Luna glared at him, "You don't think I know? How could I not, Merlin Fred, I am pregnant not stupid."

Fred's eyebrows rose as his face paled, his mind flashing to Hermione who though he hadn't seen in a week had been plaguing his thoughts almost the entire time. Stepping forward his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace he was stunned when she threw another bath toy at him, Fred easily dodged the stuffed gnome floatie.

Georgie laughed at his parents as he climbed out of the tub, grabbing his favorite towel from the floor he wrapped it around himself before running to his father, "Da!"

Fred kept his eyes on Luna who was looking at him as if he were a stranger, bending he picked up his son and set the wet boy on his hip. Fred knew that Luna wouldn't throw anything else at him with their son in his arms, "What did I do now?"

"Don't you act innocent with me-," Luna cut off as Fred stepped closer and cut her off with a hard kiss. Pushing back Luna looked up at him with watery blue eyes, "You went…and saw him."

Fred was stunned for a moment, Georgie chattering nonsensically in his ear and the sad tired look on his wife's face was making him remember what it had been like when she had come back from being captured. The pain he had been through during her disappearance was nothing compared to what he had felt when she had looked at him with those dead eyes. Sitting Georgie down on his feet Fred pulled Luna into his chest, "I had to go see him-."

"No, you didn't," Luna tilted her head back her hands grasping his shoulders as she held him, "Seeing him will not bring your brother back. George is dead, and torturing yourself with his killer isn't going to bring him back."

Fred felt the tears sting his eyes, pushing her head down so that it rested on his shoulder he simply held her as they silently drifted down his cheeks. Georgie whimpered beside them, but when his mother's hand came to caress his curls, quieting the little boy with her soothing touch as his Father cried into her shoulder.

"I love you," Fred murmured in her hair, his voice strangled and choked with regret that he knew she wouldn't recognize. Pulling back he cupped her face in his hands, "I love you, Luna Cecilia Lovegood Weasley."

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"Are you sure that you can carry all this?" Ginny stifled the frown and smiled at the well meaning sells clerk, whipping out her wand she shrank the packages down and placed them in the pocket of her coat.

"See you next week Mister Kelring," Ginny said good-naturedly as she exited the grocery. Her hair whipping in the wind, Ginny regretted her decision in not tying it back before she had left the Burrow that morning as the long curls whipped in the wind tangling behind her as she began walking, her cane skimming the ground as she walked down the almost deserted street.

Ginny smiled at people and waved to various wizards and witches that called out to her, she was about to bear off the main road to the street that led to her home when a familiar voice called out to her. Stiffening Ginny turned to face the winded brunette who stopped a few feet from her, Ginny fingers tightened around the cane, "Hermione."

"I was wondering if perhaps we could have lunch," Hermione scuffed her boot on the ground nervously, her hands stuffed in her pockets she looked up at the dark sunglasses that reflected her standing almost like a small child before the younger woman. Looking away Hermione brushed a stray hand away from her face, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have bothered you."

Hermione turned and began walking away, Ginny let out a sigh, "Hermione wait."

Hermione smiled sheepishly at her old friend as Ginny closed the difference between them, the red head blushed, "How about The Red Nickel?"

They walked in silence, neither wanting to break the comfort of saying nothing when there was so much to be said that was painfully lodged in the back of their throats.

Entering the small pub, Ginny smiled at the owner as he escorted her to a booth with a hand on her elbow, "Roger, could I have a butterbeer and some your shepherd's pie."

"Ofcourse Gin, and what can I get you Miss," Roger Chatworth turned to Hermione who was sliding into the seat across from Ginny.

The brunette sent him a sheepish smile, "The same, thanks."

Once Roger had delivered the butterbeers Ginny turned her attention from the cold dewy bottle to the woman whose somewhat ragged breathing was beginning to make her regret coming with her. Reaching up Ginny pushed her hair behind her ear, letting out a sigh as she did so, "Hermione?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you-any of you," Hermione whispered, this was the first time she had talked to Ginny in so long, and looking at the sweet faced girl infront of her Hermione realized how much heart ache she had caused to the family that had welcomed her with open arms.

Ginny nodded, a small smile curving her lips as she tilted her head to the side, the action making Hermione think for an instance that Ginny could actually see her. Shaking her head Hermione forged onwards, "I miss you Gin."

Ginny took a deep breath weighing her words carefully, "I miss you too, but-."

"Ginny, please don't say that you hate me," Hermione reached across the smooth table to grasp the pale freckled hand in her own, holding tight when the red head stiffened in surprise at the contact, "I can't go back and change things but-."

"Hermione you slept with my brother," Ginny laughed harshly, her face twisting with disbelief at the incredulity of the situation, "You were like a sister to me…I…"

"Ginny, please just give me a chance," Hermione's hand held hers in a tighter grip, leaning forward so that the table bit into her stomach painfully and causing the table to make a slight scraping noise on the floor as it pushed forward with the force of her movements.

Ginny pulled back sharply her nostrils flaring as she felt Hermione's movements, this perhaps the worst part of being blind the sudden invasion of privacy that you came on without anyway of preventing it. Rage at having been invaded made her pulse speed up and color rise to Ginny's cheeks, Merlin how she wished that she could look into Hermione's eyes and see for herself the honesty or deceit that lurked in the once open depths. Pulling her hand back Ginny let out a sigh of relief when Hermione relinquished her hold, getting to her feet she pulled her sweater on and snapped her cane out. Walking past Hermione she stopped at the other witch's shoulder, reaching out Ginny placed a hand on her once friend's shoulder, "Time Hermione, just give it time."

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Ginny laid back on the cool grass tickling her bare skin as she soaked up the sun beating down, it was for once a pleasant day. The sun was sharply hot, Ginny smiled to herself she had never considered how the sun really felt until she couldn't see it anymore. There were days when she felt as if it had all but disappeared, as if the blackness had swallowed it up and left the entire world in the same darkness she was in. Then there was the days that it bit down on her, offering her the pleasant warmth that was almost like her mother's arms rocking her like when she was a small child awake crying because of the nightmares induced by the storms. Now though it was pleasantly crisp, its warmth the same as that of a lovers caress. Ginny laughed at the thought, she had only had fumbling school boys never a lover, the closest she had had to a lover had been with Darcy. And that brief interlude didn't count for much in the long run of things Ginny thought, a frown marring her features briefly as she reflected on that afternoon.

"Do you make a habit of laying in other people's yards?"

"Do you make a habit of sneaking up on blind girls?" Ginny retorted, her tone a bit more forceful than she had meant it to be because he had actually surprised her for once. Not even the barest hint of a foot tread had alerted her to his presence nor a whisper in the wind of his scent. Ginny continued to recline, crossing her ankles as she felt the grass brush her side as he sat down next to her, his warmth reaching across the few inches separating them and warming her far more than the phantom caress of the sun.

"Why was Blaise Zabini in your house the other day?" Ginny blurted out in the silence, that followed his seating.

Draco looked down at her; one of his legs folded up so that he could prop his arm on it, the other braced on the ground beside her shoulder. Staring at his hand and her shoulder; separated by a few handfuls of wildflowers and some grass, but by so much more.

"Why do you care if he was in my house?" Draco asked, wanting nothing more than to end this farce right there before he fell more enraptured by her, "Tell me little girl, what does it matter?"

Ginny turned her head in his direction, her vacant eyes scrutinizing him, "Because…Well I don't know why. Do you know him?"

"He's my cousin," Draco supplied easily, which was the truth Blaise was his cousin, though distantly of course.

Ginny flinched at the news, though her smile was quickly back in place, "Well, one can't help who your family is. I mean look at mine, don't get me wrong I love my brothers…it's just that sometimes a girl could do with some company that doesn't leave the towels on the bathroom floor and scare away any boy that even breathes in my direction."

Draco frowned, "If they scare away that damn easily then you shouldn't be doing anything with them anyways."

Ginny sat up her hands reaching up to brush the leaves and grass out of her hair, "Don't be jealous, you are the only boy I am talking to now."

"First things first we are not involved, you are a pest that I can not seem to eradicate," Draco reached over his fingers trailing through the wild auburn curls to pull out a leaf, fingers tangling into the heavy mass so that he brushed against the skin of her neck. Draco smirked as she let out a sigh and tilted her head so that his caress continued down the column of her neck, pulling his hand back, "Second I am a man not a boy, though with the looks of the lot you hang out with I could see how you wouldn't know the difference."

Ginny bit her lip to stifle the groan at the loss of his gentle caressing fingers, "You are a tease is what you are. It's no wonder you are so tense all the time, you probably haven't had a good shag in Merlin knows how long."

Draco knew he was gaping like a fish but he couldn't help it, the girl had a mind dirtier than most teenage boys, "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"

Ginny leaned back on her arms, grinning unrepentantly, "Not much."

Draco got to his feet, pulling her up by her arms. Muttering under his breath, "How did you ever pass the Medi-witch courses?"

"I slept with the examiner," Ginny deadpanned, her face serious as she felt his fingers tighten on her arms. Extracting herself carefully she gave him a sweet smile, "For an old man he didn't disappoint between the sheets."

Draco growled low in his throat before walking past her and into the Manor, letting the laughing girl trail behind him as he walked into the silent house. Picking up a sample of tile for the master bathroom he compared it to the paint he had already chosen, ignoring the laughter coming from the doorway.

"Darcy, I was joking," Ginny shook her head exasperatedly; "You have to be the most straight laced person I have ever met."

Draco snorted; knowing who she had been exposed to it was no wonder that she had the manners of a street urchin. Draco turned his attention back to the tiles, dismissing her from his mind like he would a fly.

Ginny frowned, leaning against the doorway she listened to him silently shift tiles around as he thought and compared. Sighing she walked over to him, her hand outstretched to know when she reached him. The soft cotton of his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders as he tensed at her touch, her fingers flattened against his shoulder as she walked around to stand next to him. Leaning her head on his shoulder her arm stretched so that she could hug him to her side, Ginny smiled at the tense feel of the hard muscles.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked his voice cold and harsher than had wanted.

"I wonder what your childhood was like," Ginny whispered her head nestling against his chest as he shifted on the stool he was sitting on.

"Why do you ask that?" Draco turned his head to look down at her, his breath making her hair dance.

"You're all stiff," Ginny supplied lightly, "I wonder what could make a person so stiff."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh, letting her hug him for a moment before shoving her off none too gently, "Well let a man work. Go make yourself useful or something."

Ginny laughed as she walked out of the room, "I think I'll go see what that elf has been up to."

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Percy stifled a groan, coughing he rolled onto his side spitting blood onto the stone floor. His joints were on fire as he stretched out his legs from the cramped position that he had assumed after he had finally been allowed to fall to the floor in painful exhaustion. Opening his eyes he blinked wearily at the pale light drifting from the small window on the opposite side of the room, the sky looked blue. Strange Percy had never seen such a bluer sky in his life, bracing his hand on the cold floor he pushed himself up so that he could lean against the wall. Settled into his new position he held his ribs against the pain that had erupted from his movement. Looking down at his bare stomach Percy grimaced at the crudely stitched together pieces of flesh. Seventeen other identical cuts marked his body, he felt as if he was on fire the pain was so vivid. His hand came up to run along what had once been a smooth cheek.

"I see you finally woke up," Percy glanced up at the man who was sitting on the steps to the basement, his scarred face even harsher in the frighteningly cherry light than it had been the night before.

"Padma asked after you," Percy stiffened, immediately regretting the small movement as his muscles protested the action.

"You haven't…You didn't…" Percy trialed off not being able to even vocalize his fear of what the man who had once been his friend had done to his wife.

"She is unharmed Percy," getting to his feet he walked down the stairs making his way across the room on silent feet to crouch down beside the sitting red head. A gnarled hand absentmindedly drifting across the cuts on Percy's shoulder, "The baby is healthy, he should make an appearance in a few days. Don't worry though I will be properly prepared for when the time comes."

"Let her go, she has nothing to do with this Neville," Percy gasped as the fingers dug into his upper arm. His eyes locking with the feverish brown of the former Gryffindor, "Let her go."

Neville leaned back on his heels, "Making demands of me now? How very like the Percy I know and not the man who was begging for his life last night."

Percy closed his eyes in frustration, "She is innocent."

"I think you have said that before," getting to his feet Neville walked out of the basement a small smile playing on his lips he paused in the doorway looking down at Percy, "Perhaps I will let you see your son before I kill you."

Percy opened his eyes, the fire burning in them almost made him unrecognizable. Anger made the usually watery blue spark with something that hadn't been seen since the war.

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"Harry, is that you?" Harry smiled at the woman who had been his Transfiguration professor for his entire time at Hogwarts.

"Sorry to intrude like this Professor McGonagall," Harry stood up as the elderly witch approached him. Her stride wasn't as strong as it use to be, a distinctive limp made it so that she now relied on a cane. Pulling out the photos and all the notes he had made so far on the Weasley case, "I thought that you might be able to help on this one."

"I take it this is about Percy and Padma?" Minerva's voice was tired, more tired than Harry had ever heard even during the worst of the war.

"I was thinking that maybe you would see something that I missed," Harry spread the evidence out on the desk before her. Moving back so that she could look at it unhindered, Harry hovered just beyond her shoulder. "I was going over it, and it looks like Death Eater attack. The ferocity and the residual magic suggest spells mostly used by them, but…"

Minerva looked up from his neatly scrawled notes, "But what?"

"My gut is telling me that this isn't a Death Eater," Harry looked at her, his eyes showing his worry, "I don't know who is doing it but I know that it isn't a Death Eater."

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Millicent took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the damp air of the sea. Looking over her shoulder she glared at the few guards that were visible to her walking along the perimeter of Azkaban. Never one to dawdle Millicent scooped up the small bag of belongings that the guards had given her, slinging it on her arm she grasped her wand tightly and left the island prison with a snap of her wrist. Home was out of the question so she went to the one place she knew that she would be welcomed.

"Blaise," Millicent dropped her bag on the foyer of her cousin's flat. Like most pureblooded families, Millicent could track her bloodline to almost any other pureblood wizarding family in the country. Blaise was one of the few that she didn't have that far to look for a connection, her mother was Blaise's first cousin and the two women had been close as children. Resulting in Blaise and Millicent growing up almost in each other's homes. Walking around the small but expensively decorated flat, Millicent ran a hand absently down the mantle place. Clucking her tongue when her finger came away with a good deal of dust attached, her mouth tilting up in a half smile Millicent walked down the hall to the kitchen. The halfhearted efforts at washing the dishes was evident in the few broken plates, and the forks still having food stuck to them. Blaise never did master the domestic spells as easily as he had the darker ones, mostly because he had believed that he would always have elves to handle that kind of thing. But he had been forced to seel most of his elves in order to bribe his way out of prison. Her wand idly held in her hand Millicent gave it an elegant wave, watching as the dishes flew back together before all of them flew to the sink and began to be scrubbed by a rather vigorous looking rag. Walking back into the living room, Millicent sent her wand to work dusting and shining the surfaces until they shined. Methodically she walked through the flat, cleaning five bedrooms, the den, dinning room, and three baths. The only room that remained was the master bedroom, cautiously Millicent opened the door. Pushing the door open so that the light from the hall came in to the darkened interior Millicent was forced to stifle her laugh at seeing her cousin sprawled face first onto the bed. His bare back was half hidden under the coverlet. Strolling over to the bed, Millicent opened the blinds with relish. Sending the light streaming into the bedroom in a harsh burst, Millicent reached down and swatted the barely covered behind firmly.

"What the hell?!" Blaise shot up, his dark blue eyes narrowing in anger before he focused fully on Millicent, "Millie?"

"Don't call me that," Millicent ordered, but she couldn't resist the smile that came to her lips as Blaise pulled her onto the bed with him and hugged her to him. Turning her head so that she could look him in the eyes, Millicent let out a contented sigh, "I was worried about you."

"Worried about me? You were the one that has been in prison the past three years," Blaise held her to him, running a hand over her face as if reassuring himself that she was real. Millicent tucked her head under his chin, letting him simply hold her.

"When did you get out," Blaise asked his hands locked around her back, holding her in place, "I didn't expect your appeal to go through for another month or two."

"You were the one that put my appeal in," Millicent asked out lout, her voice muffled against his neck.

"Yes, but I didn't think that it would be through for another month at least," Blaise leaned back away from her, his eyes searching for something.

Millicent leaned away from him, slowly extracting herself from his hold, "Come on lazy bones, I need to eat and you need a shower."

"Might I suggest that first you change," Blaise cast a sneer at the prison issued garb that she was wearing, "I think that my mother's robes are in the second guest room. Now get out of here before-."

Millicent glared at him before walking out of the room, closing the door softly on her way. Both she and Blaise had lost their parents during the war, but while she didn't mourn her father she like Blaise felt the loss of her mother deeply. Walking into the room he had indicated, she stripped out of the harsh woolen gown and picked out a set of conservative cream robes. After a quick refreshing charm on herself, Millicent pulled the soft natural fibered robe over her slim frame. Before the war she doubted if she would have even been able to fit one arm into Blaise mother's robes, now they hung off her in a pleasing manner. The hem fell a little to far below her feet, but a swish of her wand and that was fixed.

"Beautiful," Blaise whispered from his spot leaning on the doorway, holding out his hand to her, "I know someone that will be pleased to see you alive."

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AN: I know this is a long time in coming, but I lost my inspiration for the longest time. Finally though I seem to have found some. Thanks goes out to everyone who has been patiently waiting for me to updtate. I hope that you will stick with me.