Author's Note: So excited about all the responses to the story! Also, Charlie Weasley looks just like Ed Sheeran. In case anyone was wondering.

He knocked on her door, but little Ginny refused to acknowledge it.

"Gin-Gin?"

The boy peered inside the room with a worried frown. When he spotted his tiny redheaded sister, he came into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Ginny, please don't be mad at me."

But the three year old couldn't be swayed. In her little mind, she felt nothing other than complete and utter betrayal.

"You leaving," she bit out with an angry sob. "You go away and never come back!"

"It's Hogwarts," Charlie reminded her gently. "Just like Bill does. And Bill always comes home."

But Ginny was too young to remember Bill leaving for school for the first time. All she knew was that Charlie had always been at home, with them, and he'd always played with her and loved her best. He took care of her when Mum was busy, and he was the only one of the boys who let her kick around the ball or play with his toys.

And now he was leaving her behind.

"Please, Gin-Gin," said the young boy, moving to crouch in front of her with a hopeful smile. "I'll be so sad if I leave and you're still mad at me."

The little girl held tight onto her anger, but her misery was just too much, and she finally leaped up and jumped into her big brother's arms.

"I just want you to stay!" she cried out, "Please, please, please!"

Charlie quickly wrapped Ginny in his arms, dragged her over to the rocking chair in her nursery and gathered her up in his lap. Ginny's hot little face pressed into his robes and sobbed, while Charlie patted her head with a divine patience beyond his eleven years.

"I'll always come back home, Ginny," he told her, growing more and more distressed at her tears. "I swear it. One day, you'll be big, and you'll see. You'll see how it is."

"Don't wanna," she sniffled, finally calming down.

"I know," he said with a little teary smile. "But you don't have to worry. One day, you'll be at Hogwarts, too, and you'll see why we go there."

Ginny grunted in response, and Charlie laughed a little, wiping away his tears.

"Who gonna play with me like you do?" asked Ginny, desperate to know. Charlie smiled at her.

"You have lots of brothers, Gin. They love you, too."

Ginny poked out her lip. "Not like you," she squeaked, one hand fisted near her mouth. "Not like you, Charlie."

Draco came home from the Ministry that night, but he didn't return to the suite he shared with Ginny.

Instead, he sat alone in the corridor outside his parents' room, carefully avoiding making a sound. Draco knew his parents were in there. He could hear them talking about the escape ("Draco once said the boy could rub two bare cotton balls together and start a fire," said Lucius), but their muffled voices sounded more weary than anxious. So Draco sat on the floor, like a child, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his anxious stare focused on the entrance to the hallway.

When Ginny creeped out of the suite and peered down the hallway, she saw him.

The radio broadcast had ended, and the news dared speak nothing more about the escape. But as soon as Ginny saw Draco, desperately keeping his vigilance over his parents' room, she knew it had been a night that would remain forever etched in his mind.

And if Draco remembered this night, then it didn't matter so much if the news didn't report it.

Ginny edged forward, only vaguely noting that Draco hadn't locked the door to the hallway from his suite. Her bare feet padded along the carpet that lined the center of the otherwise cold floors, and when Ginny reached Draco, she stooped down in front of him.

His gaze flickered to hers.

"They're alright," she whispered as reassuringly as she could. She could hear Narcissa and Lucius behind their door, so she knew it was true. "Go and talk to them, if that will make you feel better."

Draco's eyes glanced at the doors. "If I see them, they'll know something is wrong," he said very softly. His expression was a curious mixture of fear, spite, and longing, as if he was just as ready to fight as he was to cry.

For the first time since arriving at the Malfoy Manor, Ginny felt true compassion swell in her chest for Draco. Her eyes raked over his face, and she felt like taking his hand, even though it was clenched around his own bicep and looked as immovable as a stone wall.

And so instead Ginny stood, offering Draco her hand so that he could accept it if he wanted.

After a long moment of thought, Draco reached up and grasped Ginny's hand, letting her pull him to a stand. The grip lingered for just a moment.

Then Ginny reached over and rapped twice on the bedroom door. Draco practically hissed, but Ginny darted away and around the corner just as the double-doors opened to reveal both Narcissa and Lucius, their expressions pinched with confusion as Draco whirled to face them.

"Darling," said Narcissa, stepping forward and touching Draco's cheek. "Are you alright?"

"I…" Draco swallowed tightly, before he glanced at Lucius, who studied him. "I just… I wanted to say goodnight, that's all." He hadn't done something like that in years, and it must have seemed odd – curse that good for nothing ginger, he thought – but his mother lifted her lips in a soft smile.

"Come in for a bit," Narcissa said, stepping aside. Draco entered the large master suite his parents inhabited, and he walked with them to where a lounge sat next to two chairs, much like in his own quarters. When Draco was a child, he'd spent many an evening in here, listening to his parents read aloud or tune in to a radio show.

The radio was on, just like before; as Draco listened, it played a soft tune. No news. No politics. Just a tender melody that permeated the air and filled Draco with a nostalgic longing. Draco's father settled in his chair, where he had a book, and Narcissa sat at the end of the lounge. Without thinking about it, Draco stretched out on the lounge (which he was actually too tall to do) and laid his head in Narcissa's lap, so that her slim hand could stroke his hair back from his face just like she'd done so many times when he was a child.

If Lucius was concerned about the escape, he didn't show it. Instead, he took a moment to look over at Draco with just the slightest quirk of his lips. Then he looked back to the novel in his hands.

"Do you want me to start from the beginning?" Lucius asked Draco without looking up from the book.

Draco barely quelled a bubble of emotion in his chest, and he deliberately kept from looking directly at his father. "Yes."

So Lucius turned back a few chapters and started at the beginning of the book, and Narcissa and Draco listened attentively for the rest of the evening.

When Draco finally returned to his suite, it was very late. The first thing he noticed was Ginny Weasley, asleep on the lounge in his room in front of the dying fire. Draco paused and observed her for several minutes without moving.

Then he moved past her, calling very quietly for Bleaker as he did so. The elf appeared, and Draco immediately shushed him before looking back at Ginny.

"Get her a blanket," he ordered in a careful whisper.

Then he quickly changed clothes and climbed into his own bed.

Morning dawned.

"Malfoy," hissed Ginny in a whisper. She jumped up onto his tall bed and shook him none too gently. "Malfoy, wake up!"

Draco blinked awake, startled, and nearly knocked Ginny off the bed. He almost fell to the floor himself when he scrambled for the wand, suddenly sure that the entire manor was under attack and oh, Merlin, his parents were going to be killed and someone knew, someone KNEW –

"Oh, come off it, will you?" Ginny grunted, poking him in the side. "Calm down, you don't need your wand, just be quiet!" Leading him by the arm, Ginny tugged Draco out of the bed and the two stumbled across the room until they were kneeling next to the door to the hallway. Ginny eased it open just a crack, with Draco standing behind her, and familiar voices filtered through.

"… must say, this has put the Dark Lord in a most unfortunate predicament," came Damien's snide voice, more cross than Ginny had ever heard it, though he held it to a cool edge. "After all, the Muggleborns are supposed to be your responsibility."

Lucius's retort was calm and self-assured. "The incarceration of the Muggleborns was not my idea, Damien. I am only responsible for locating the filth. To harness their magic for the Elder Wand was Yaxley's idea."

Ginny shifted to glance at Draco, who raised a brow; both continued to listen with their eyes wide.

"I find it difficult to believe," said Damien, "that Yaxley, of all people, came up with such an idea on his own."

"Remarkable, isn't it?" asked Lucius, every bit as calm as Damien was irritated. "Who knows what other untapped potential he has in store for us?"

Draco leaned close to Ginny. "Damien's right," he whispered to her, standing just behind her shoulder. "Yaxley is a complete moron and everyone knows it. How he came up with an idea like that…"

Ginny glanced at Draco and bit her lip in thought.

"Whatever the case may be," said Damien, now noticeably irritated, "every solution you and your companions have proposed to address the Dark Lord's problem has been temporary at best."

"As opposed to your solution to the Dark Lord's problem," replied Lucius smoothly, "which has been nonexistent."

Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing, and she glanced up to see Draco smirk. She could feel his animosity for Damien looming from where he peered over her head.

Damien, after a heated pause, began to speak again, but Lucius cut him off. "Damien, it is Yaxley who lost the Mudbloods, and your issues are best discussed with him. If the Dark Lord is displeased with me, I have no doubt he will address me directly."

Damien shifted slightly into view, and Ginny ducked back a bit.

"I'm sure he will," said Damien lowly. "After all, he has had little issue bringing up your failures in the past."

Ginny felt Draco tense behind her. Lucius, likewise, lost any attempt at keeping his posture amicable or even indifferent. Ginny watched as his expression took on the look of steel she knew so well.

"Damien, I understand that your newfound position with the Dark Lord has emboldened you to the point of recklessness," drawled Lucius, edging just a hint closer to the younger wizard, his grey eyes flashing. "However, I would warn you against becoming too comfortable in your position. For, you see, I have been serving the Dark Lord since before you were…" Lucius narrowed his eyes "… even born."

Lucius then folded his hands calmly over the top of his snake-topped staff. "And I have given him everything."

Damien regarded Lucius for a long moment before his features slid into a smile that sent a chill down Ginny's spine. "Not everything, Lucius."

With that, Damien turned and slipped from view. Lucius watched him go, and when Damien was gone, he exhaled, his eyes closing briefly. Ginny thought it was fascinating to watch Lucius' mask drop for just a moment, as Draco's sometimes did.

Still, Lucius always looked malicious and cold to Ginny, even when he was alone, and the older wizard quickly recovered before walking away as well. Ginny eased the door closed and straightened, as did Draco, who turned back towards the room with a growl. "Bloody hell, if that sorry bastard Damien decides to blame this on my father," started Draco through clenched teeth.

"He's just frustrated," cut in Ginny, moving over to the breakfast tray and picking up a piece of fruit. "He doesn't have anything on Lucius. Just relax."

"Still," said Draco, rounding to face her, "if someone finds out – "

"Well, they just might, if you keep bringin' it up because you're worried all the time!" pointed out Ginny, before she moved over to the lounge and leaned against the back of it.

"Just have a little faith, Malfoy."

Draco's expression made it quite clear he thought this was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said to him, so Ginny gave up.

He did seem to calm a bit, though, and soon Draco picked up some of the food from the breakfast tray too, before he moved over to the lounge and flopped onto it. Ginny leaned over the back of the lounge and peered down at him.

Draco was actually too long for the cushions, and one of his legs hung over the end, with a bare foot sticking out of the bottom of his pajama pants. He had no shirt on, as he'd just woken up, and although Ginny glanced for only a moment – really, just a single moment – she noticed that he'd gained back a bit of the weight he'd lost in school. When she'd first come to the manor, Draco had looked almost emaciated. Now, his torso and arms had finally filled out once more. Or, at least, as much as they ever had. He was quite skinny, like Harry had been.

Which reminded Ginny of a thought she'd had while spying on Lucius and Damien.

"Malfoy," she said carefully, "is Lucius… ill?"

Draco shifted his head to look in her direction, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "Ill? Of course not. My father doesn't get sick." He paused. "Why?"

Ginny shrugged, and instead of blurting out what she was thinking – which was the unflattering but accurate assessment that Lucius looked like a dried up zombie – she chose her words carefully.

"He's just – I don't know, looking a bit peaked. Like he needs a good meal and about five days worth of sleep." Also a blood transfusion, but Ginny left that out.

She watched curiously as Draco seemed to think this over. Then he shook his head, his eyes aimed on the ceiling. "He's just stressed from work," Draco bit out, obviously feeling a bit defensive. "My father isn't sick. He has a lot of important things to do is all."

Ginny let it drop. The two ate breakfast in mostly silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Each of them had a lot on their minds. It was Draco who finally broke the silence.

"Finnegan didn't make it out. He didn't even try."

Ginny lowered her eyes. She'd guessed as much from the broadcast. Once Seamus had been identified as the one who'd started the whole thing, an aching feeling in her heart prepared her for the worst. After a long quiet moment, Ginny glanced up at Draco's face. "Was he brave?" she asked softly. Draco shifted his weight onto his elbows and laced his fingers, so that his gaze peered just over the top of them, at the window to the bright outside world.

Then he nodded.

"Yes," he murmured.

Draco found his father in his study, where Lucius was sorting through some documents. The older wizard looked up when Draco entered.

"Good morning," said Draco, as if he dared to bother Lucius in his study all the time, which he certainly did not. Lucius raised a brow at him, but he didn't kick him out.

"Good morning, son," he said instead, looking back at his documents. "Do you need something?"

Draco tried to act casual, but he finally decided that acting casual was even more suspicious than acting suspicious. So he gave up. "I heard about what happened at the Ministry," he dared. Lucius looked up and sighed, moving around his desk and stacking some rolls of parchment to one side.

"Yes," said Lucius, "most unfortunate. But they're just a bunch of Mudbloods. We'll find them again."

Draco shifted. "Since you're in charge of the registration," he said, following Lucius' face as the other wizard moved around the room, "will the Dark Lord punish you?"

"No," said Lucius easily. "Yaxley was in charge, the idiot. And if he is punished for their escape, then that's what he deserves for campaigning to take on the responsibility." Lucius rounded his desk and for a moment, his grey eyes flickered to Draco's. "After all, it would have been natural for me to take up the mantle, given that dealing with the Mudbloods has been mostly my responsibility up until now. But Yaxley was just…" Lucius picked up a quill " … so insistent. I thought it best that the accountability lay with him."

Draco raised a brow as Lucius' lips lifted at a ghost of a smirk. "Just in case," Lucius added languidly.

Draco folded his arms and opened his mouth to ask another question, but Lucius cut him off. "Speaking of prisoners of war," said Lucius, as if he were remarking on the weather, "How are things with the girl?"

Draco blinked, caught off guard. He watched Lucius for a moment longer, trying to decide whether or not to push the subject further, but instead he relaxed some and leaned against the desk, where he picked up a vial of ink and toyed with it.

"Oh, you know," he said with a shrug. "She's Weasley."

Lucius raised a brow. "And?"

Draco fell into a chair and sat all the way back, enjoying how nice and comfy his father's chairs were.

"It's not so bad, I suppose." Draco thought about it. "She's completely bossy, of course. And, well, I mean, she's so Gryffindor-y," Draco continued, shooting an annoyed look Lucius' way. "It's always – Wake up, Malfoy, I want to go flying," Draco imitated in a high-pitched voice. "Or – Stop saying Mudbloods, Malfoy. Or – I can totally beat you at chess, Malfoy." Draco waved a hand. "Which she has yet to do, because she is not nearly so good at chess as she thinks."

Lucius' lips quirked at a smile, but Draco wasn't looking and he missed it.

"Perhaps you should teach her," suggested the older wizard.

"Maybe," said Draco with a shrug, "just so she's a worthy adversary. Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "And she's always trying to get me to be nicer to Bleaker." Draco rolled his eyes grandly at this idea. "She's far too nice to him, Father. He's going to start expecting that sort of behavior from all of us, and I can't have that." The younger wizard paused thoughtfully. "Perhaps I ought to just get her an elf of her own. That way she can be ridiculous with her own damn servant."

Lucius paused near the window that looked out over the gardens. "Perhaps you should," he agreed lightly. "I got your mother a house-elf as a gift when we first married."

"Really?" Draco asked. "Which elf?"

"It's dead," Lucius answered blandly. "You knocked it out of a window when you were a toddler."

Draco stared. "What, really? Why would I do that?"

Lucius made an exasperated noise. "I don't know, Draco. Children are often wasteful with resources. That's why they're children."

"I wonder if I thought it was funny," mused Draco.

"Probably," deadpanned Lucius. "You were cackling the entire time."

Draco smirked, instantly amused with himself. Lucius rolled his eyes at him, but his haggard features held the hint of a smile as he turned away and gathered his things. Draco finally stopped walking around the office and shifted to look at his father. In the early morning sunlight, Draco remembered Ginny's question – Is Lucius ill?

Now, as Draco looked over his father, he couldn't help but note just how worn his father's appearance had become.

In truth, Lucius looked no less frail today than he had that morning in his office at the Ministry, when Draco had first thought to grow worried for him. Lucius was still too thin, and his color wasn't right. There were deep circles under his eyes, and a strained tremor to his movements. It made something unpleasant roil in Draco's stomach to see him that way. Bellatrix and the others had recovered from Azkaban, but Lucius never seemed to.

"Why're you asking about Weasley anyway?" inquired Draco curiously.

Lucius looked over Draco. "I only wanted to be certain she wasn't making you miserable in your own home," he told his son, but there seemed to be a lot left unsaid in the seemingly simple answer.

A moment passed in silence. "Father," started Draco carefully, "…is there something going on?"

Lucius actually did smirk this time, before he picked up his cane and prepared to leave. "What a ridiculous question, son. There is always something going on, I'm sure."

Draco made a face. "That," he said, "is an unsatisfactory answer."

"Life is full of unsatisfactory answers, Draco," said Lucius dryly as he prepared to leave. "If you don't like it, then it's probably best you stop asking questions now."

With this pearl of fatherly wisdom imparted upon his son, Lucius brushed by Draco and disappeared out of the door.

A few days passed, and although both Draco and Ginny waited anxiously to see if Voldemort would swoop in on the manor and destroy them all, nothing of note happened and they began to gradually relax.

The incident at the Ministry, Draco told Ginny, had been swept under the rug. Voldemort did not want anyone to speak of it, though they weren't sure if that was because the incident exposed a political lie or because the breakout was embarrassing for the Ministry. Either way, no one seemed keen on bringing it up, and Draco was glad.

The weekend arrived and Draco fully intended on sleeping in.

However, when he shuffled out of bed just after sunrise to use the bathroom, Draco found an owl waiting with a letter at the window. He took the letter, which was addressed to Ginny, and thought of just shoving it under her door, rather than daring to wake her up. However, something told him to read the letter before giving it to her.

So he did, because he was Draco Malfoy and he did what he wanted.

"Bloody hell," he hissed after scanning the letter. Doing his very best to stay quiet, Draco tucked the letter back in its envelope, quickly got dressed, grabbed everything he needed to stay out all day and then, with every effort at stealth, he slipped the letter under Ginny's door and then practically ran out of his suite.

Once he was safely outside, Draco let out a breath of relief.

He only made it about halfway down the hall before his mother stopped him. "Draco," said Narcissa, an eyebrow raised. "Where are you off to so early on a Saturday?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a loud, comically high-pitched scream of rage from his suite. Draco closed his mouth and waited patiently for the scream to stop. It took such a long time that he actually glanced at the clock and put a hand on his hip.

Narcissa stared, looking over at the suite's closed door, aghast. When the furious shriek was finally done, Draco answered casually, "I would not go in there today, if I were you. On a related note, I suddenly have loads to do outside of the house, so I will see you this evening. Goodbye, mother."

With that, Draco left the house and went to Diagon Alley, where he managed to spend most of his day. In fact, he stayed out nearly ten hours, only returning to the manor once more when it was nearly dinner time. The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon when Draco slipped through the door of his suite and tip-toed inside. Ginny's door was closed, and he didn't see her in his room. Maybe he could just –

BAM. The doors to Ginny's room swung open with a fierce kick and Draco instantly threw up his hands in a defensive position.

"I need a Howler, Malfoy!" Ginny demanded as soon as she spotted him, her eyes blazing. "Right now!"

Draco dropped his hands and his shoulders went slack. "Er," he said, pointing at her, "No."

"This," Ginny waved the parchment bearing the letter she'd received that morning, "is complete and total bollocks! And why the hell have you been gone all day?"

"Honestly? Because I was hoping someone would drop by and perform an exorcism on you while I was away," Draco informed her, before walking over to his bar and fixing himself a drink.

"This isn't funny, Malfoy," Ginny hissed, marching across the floor. "Some Death Eater BITCH has gone and forced George to marry her!"

Draco thought about the witches he'd met in George's store. "I very much doubt that was the case," he told Ginny sincerely. Ginny's freckled face turned a furious shade of red, and so he added, "Also, that witch is not a Death Eater. She's just one of those sympathizers from – I don't remember – Russia, I think."

"How do you know so much?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

Draco waved the hand holding his drinking glass. "Because, Weasley, I make it my business to know things. Look, the point is, your brother is fine."

"But – "

"He might even like this girl, for all you know," interrupted Draco. "Did his letter say he was forced?"

Ginny growled. "No," she said. "But I know he was."

"And how do you know that?" asked Draco, but Ginny let out a furious yell and hurled the parchment to the floor. When her gaze turned back to Draco's, though, it was pinched with tears, not anger.

"Because," she said tearfully, "He would've never gotten married without us there!"

Draco paused, looking over Ginny's tear-stained face, even though she quickly wiped away the dampness and forced the anger back into her expression. "Not unless someone made him," continued Ginny with a catch in her voice. "He wouldn't do that."

Draco tapped a long finger on his drinking glass. "Unless, of course," he said quietly, "He knew you might react badly." When Ginny looked up to glare at him, he held up his hand in a placating gesture. "There probably wasn't much of a ceremony, anyway. I'm sure…" Draco took a seat on the edge of the chair's arm "… that he felt this was the best way to do things. Neatly and without fuss."

Ginny screwed up her face in a grimace. "Neatly and without fuss. Yeah, that's George, alright."

Draco rolled his eyes. "People change with war, Weasley," he told her, tilting his head. "Sometimes things like this are necessary." He watched as Ginny lowered her eyes to the parchment, before she stooped and picked it up again. She swallowed, her eyes scanning the handwriting again, as if to make sure she'd read it correctly.

At last, she sighed and sank into the chair Draco sat on. Her body fell slack against the cushions, and Draco thought made her look like melted strawberry ice cream.

"It's still bollocks," she muttered, frowning deeply.

Sitting just above her, balanced on the arm of the chair, Draco took a sip from his Firewhiskey and then passed the glass to her. Ginny glanced up darkly, but after hesitating for only a moment, she accepted it and finished it in one gulp.

Unfortunately for Ginny, the following week brought with it more unwelcome news.

Draco was the first to be alerted to the two guests, as Ginny was preoccupied, and so he swept into the foyer of Malfoy Manor alone. "Weasley," Draco greeted Charlie tonelessly, before he noticed Fleur as well. "And… Weasley."

"Malfoy," Charlie greeted, and although his tone wasn't unfriendly, it was certainly bereft of any warmth. "We're here to see my sister."

Draco folded his arms. "Owls go extinct, did they?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed minutely. "We thought it best to drop by when you didn't expect us. Just in case…" he trailed off, only for Draco to roll his eyes.

"Just in case I'm secretly keeping your sister in a pit of vipers, Weasley?" Draco deadpanned. Charlie's jaw tightened, and Fleur immediately touched his arm in a reassuring manner. Interesting, thought Draco. Then he sighed.

"Don't be stupid. I would never do that to those poor snakes." Then he turned away and began walking. "You really want to see the abhorrent conditions in which your sister lives, Weasley?" Draco asked over his shoulder. "Allow me to show you."

Five minutes later, Draco threw open the doors to his suite.

As soon as he did so, he dropped his arms with a scowl. "Bloody hell, Weasley," Draco called out to the room. "I told you to keep this nonsense in YOUR room!"

Ginny Weasley's voice rang out from somewhere in the room, but it was difficult to see her, what with everything in the suite covered in blankets, pillows, and chairs, all of which was artfully formed into an impressive fortress.

"I ran out of space!" she called out from a hiding spot under a checkered blanket. "Consider yourself annexed, Malfoy!"

Draco turned very slowly to glare at Charlie and Fleur, both of whom were having a very difficult time stifling their laughter. Breathing in deeply, Draco faced the monstrosity of blankets and chairs once more.

"Weasley, your brother is here," he said flatly.

"Really?" shrieked Ginny, and a moment later, her head popped up in the far corner of the room, hair mussed. "Oh, Charlie!" Her face lit up in a brilliant smile, "And Fleur, too! Brilliant! Uh," she paused, looking around as Charlie waved with a sincere smile. "Hang on."

Then she disappeared again, ducking beneath the blankets and weaving her way through the room as best as she could, occasionally bumping into chairs and Merlin only knew what else, as Draco, Charlie, and Fleur all waited, with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation.

Finally, Ginny emerged near the door, and she instantly hugged Charlie and then Fleur. "What're you two doing here?" she asked, pushing back her messy hair from her face. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," reassured Fleur with a nervous smile. "We only wanted to visit you, zat is all."

Draco took this opportunity to glance down at Charlie's hand, and what he saw there made him raise a brow. High. Charlie caught him looking and covered up his hand quickly, averting his eyes from Draco's.

"Oh," said Ginny, looking over Fleur's face a bit uncertainly. "Well, great."

"You might want to take them outside," suggested Draco, "seeing as how you've left them nowhere to sit."

Ginny grinned a bit. "Yeah, well – Hey, have you two had lunch? We could go outside and have a picnic!"

"That sounds great," said Charlie, ready to make Ginny happy in any way he could.

Draco looked over at Ginny again. "If only there were a blanket left in this entire house," he said wryly.

Ginny made a face at him. "I'm sure Bleaker can find one," she said with a deceptively sweet smile in Draco's direction; he bit back a smirk and simply shook his head at her.

Draco told her, "Enjoy your lunch. My aunt is visiting, so I will be in the sitting room." At Ginny's instant look of dismay, he added quickly, "Not that aunt. My grandfather's sister. She's ancient." Ginny relaxed a bit, and Draco gave a quick cordial nod to the other two before he vanished from the room.

Ginny shifted back to look at Charlie and Fleur, beaming. "Ready?"

Fifteen minutes later, the three Weasleys were settled under a tree in the gardens, a blanket (which had taken some time to locate) spread beneath them and a nice lunch laid out. Ginny ate happily, glad to have Charlie visit since she hadn't seen him again since that first visit weeks ago.

"Where'd you get that necklace?" he asked curiously, pointing to the gold 'W'.

Ginny popped a piece of cake in her mouth. "Percy gave it to me," she said after swallowing (most) of her food. There was more to the necklace, she knew, but she wasn't sure what that was, and she didn't think it was safe to bring it up to Charlie. Not yet.

"Hm," he said simply, and Ginny shrugged.

"Just trying to be nice, I suppose. You know how Percy is. Not really sentimental. I think he just thought it would be a nice gesture, I don't know."

Charlie nodded. "I've spoken to him a few times. He seems to be… doing well."

"We are all doing ze best we can," Fleur reminded them both, and it was only then that Ginny realized she and Charlie had the same pinched expression on their faces.

"So," Ginny said, "Charlie, have you met little Margrethe? Isn't she the best baby you've ever seen?"

Charlie smiled a bit. "Yes, she's lovely."

"Maybe," said Fleur, "We will bring her next time, and you can finally see her in person. We thought of bringing her today, but she was being so fussy."

Ginny nibbled on another cake. "We?" she repeated curiously. "You mean you and Gabrielle?"

Fleur paused, and her eyes flickered quickly to Charlie, who instantly looked down at his teacup. Ginny lowered her cake, sucking a few crumbs off her lips. Suddenly, it didn't taste nearly so sweet.

"You said 'we'," Ginny said again, straightening. "Did you mean…"

That was when Charlie shifted, and Ginny realized with a terrible jolt that he looked terribly uncomfortable and – ashamed. "Ginny, there's…" But he trailed off, and neither he nor Fleur said anything.

Ginny looked between them, and her stomach lurched. "We…" she said, for what felt like the millionth time. That was when she looked at their hands. Charlie wore a simple band on his finger, as did Fleur.

The words were almost too much for her to say aloud. "You two… got married?"

Tears instantly pushed at the corners of Ginny's eyes, and she felt her expression tremble; her entire face contorted with the kind of piercing betrayal she hadn't felt since she was a very little girl.

"Ginny," came Charlie's voice, and it sounded as though he'd called out to her a few times. His little sister finally shifted her teary gaze to his, and his expression was distraught, imploring. "Ginny, please listen…"

"How could you do this?" asked Ginny, her voice cracking. She looked to Fleur. "You love Bill."

"I do, yes," said Fleur quickly, and her own eyes filled up with tears. "But Ginny… Ze tax, we had to do somezing and – "

"We're lucky the Ministry even allowed this," said Charlie with a thick swallow; he found it difficult to look Ginny's way. "Fleur's grandparents had to call in a few favors…" He wasn't crying, like Fleur and Ginny, but shame read in every line of his face.

Ginny just shook her head, her eyes low on checkered blanket. "No, this – this isn't right – you shouldn't have to do this – you're – " She swallowed a sob, but a tiny squeak escaped her as she desperately sucked in a much needed breath. "This isn't right!"

She slammed a hand down on the blanket. "This is not the way things are supposed to be!"

Charlie simply ducked his head, unable to look at Ginny, but Fleur leaned forward and said as firmly as she could, "But zis is ze way zey have to be right now, Ginny. Charlie and I are – We already were family. We care about each ozer. We will 'elp each ozer."

"But you don't love each other," cut in Ginny furiously. "You told Gabrielle to marry for love, and now you're, what, just – putting on a show?"

"We do care for each other," said Charlie quietly, finally looking up at Ginny. His eyes glimmered with sadness. "Which is why we're going to work together to stay safe and care for Margrethe." Reaching out a hand, Charlie wrapped his fingers around Ginny's. She didn't pull away, but somehow, the loving grip made her sob even harder.

"Ginny, please," whispered Charlie, his face filling Ginny's blurry vision, "I'll be so sad if I leave here and you're still mad at me."

Ginny closed her eyes, and the rest of the visit passed by in a slow, hazy blur.

Some hours later, after Charlie and Fleur had left and the sky had dwindled into a hazy late afternoon mix of pinks and oranges, Ginny stared hard and thought nothing.

After several minutes of still silence, Draco Malfoy leaned forward from his spot on the grass, where he sat cross-legged on the opposite side of a chess board.

"Alright, Weasley," he put a chin in his hand and looked over her face, "Why are you so upset about your brother and Delacour?"

One of Ginny's tears slipped free and fell on the chessboard. "It's not supposed to be like this," she whispered. "George was going to marry someone like Angelina. He liked her." She squeezed her eyes shut. "And – And Fleur and Bill – they were – so in love, and, and – "

Charlie and Fleur had left hours ago, and Ginny had hugged them both tightly. But she'd never recovered the brilliant smile she'd had when they'd arrived.

Ginny curled over her own lap, uncaring that Draco saw her crying. She didn't give a damn anymore. Everything in her body felt weak, like crumbling parchment, and it did not occur to her to pretend otherwise. She and Draco were alone in the courtyard, under the very same tree Ginny had shared with Charlie and Fleur, and nothing made any sense to her at all. The pain started in her stomach and went through every limb, fizzling out at the tips of her toes.

"And," Ginny wept, not even seeing Draco or the chessboard through her tears, "Charlie never even wanted to get married!" Ginny pushed her trembling hands in front of her face as tears poured down her face. She looked up at Draco desperately. "He never wanted - and he loved his - his work and - "

"People don't always understand Charlie," she sobbed, nearly incomprehensible, fumbling over every word.

All of this Draco listened to, with only the soft breeze passing over them making any noise in response. When Ginny was done, unable to say anything else through her sobs, Draco looked over the chessboard and then raised both brows, as if he'd discovered something useful there.

"Look," he said after a few moments, "Your brother and sister-in-law are fortunate they were allowed to marry. You should be happy."

Draco brought up a knee and balanced his arm on it as he tilted his head at her. "And they're adults, Weasley," he reminded her gently. "They're allowed to make the decision to marry for convenience."

Ginny bit her lip and smashed her hand over her face to wipe away her tears, but more came, still, just quieter. She glanced at Draco just briefly, allowing her hair to curtain parts of her face.

"Maybe," said Draco, "this wasn't their first choice. But it's the safest one they could make." Ginny looked up just in time to watch Draco observe the chessboard with a faraway look.

"And that's all anyone can really ask for right now," he finished softly.

Ginny's sobs calmed and slowed, but the heaviness of her heart remained. "Now," said Draco, reaching over and tapping Ginny's shoulder, "Focus." He pointed at the chessboard.

"But," choked out Ginny, only to be cut off by Draco.

"Focus," he repeated firmly. Ginny turned her trembling gaze to the chessboard. "Not just on your pieces," Draco counseled her, his grey eyes trained on her face, "…but on the whole board."

With a miserable grimace, Ginny looked over the board, taking into account everything she could see, feel, and sense, any strategy she could predict or account for. After a long moment, she made her move.

Across the chessboard, Draco Malfoy watched Ginny's piece slide into place. Then he looked at her face again and his features relaxed into a small but sincere smile.

"Ah," he murmured. "That's better."

Three days later, George Weasley arrived at Malfoy Manor, with a lovely young witch named Vera in tow.

When Ginny received them both in the sitting room, her posture stiff and her face carefully composed, George did not introduce his new wife. Instead, the young witch stepped forward and spoke to Ginny in heavily accented English.

"Hello Ginny," Vera said carefully, with every effort at correctness. Her smile trembled nervously. "I am… so happy… to be – " she glanced at George, and he nodded in encouragement, " … a part… of your – " she paused again "- family," she finished at last.

Ginny listened, and when Vera was done, she looked to George, who gave his sister a painfully earnest look of hope. Then Ginny glanced at Draco, who stood tall at her side, just near her shoulder. He didn't say anything, but Ginny was able to take something away from his gaze. Not strength, exactly, but a sense of direction, perhaps. It was a strangely comforting experience, and some of the tension faded from her form.

Looking back at Vera, who waited anxiously, Ginny finally spoke.

"I'm happy, too," she told Vera, letting a small smile take over her features so Vera would be sure of her meaning. Vera let out a breath of relief and enveloped Ginny in a hug, positively beaming when Ginny returned it.

As George grinned, Draco made eye-contact with Ginny just long enough to wink, his lips quirked in a smile. Ginny's own smile became a bit more genuine in response.

"Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself to Vera, who accepted his handshake eagerly, already knowing his name and family. "Let's have some tea, shall we?"