BillPOV

Because it's the only thing I can think of to do, I drag Draco outside. I take him into Dad's shed, and magic a fire into existence.

"If anyone comes in and asks, I'm showing you Dad's collection. Now, tell me what you meant in there." He looks wild, and he's staring at me.

"In Azkaban," he says hoarsely. "I stabbed him. With a broken bit of metal."

"Does anyone know about this?"

"No. Only my father knew, and he was stabbed the same day."

"Did you do that too?"

"No. I don't know who did, who cares? They both deserved to die, Bill."

"I'm not disputing that, I don't think anyone would. But if the Wizengamot found out, they'd be legally obliged to try you and they'd have to send you back to Azkaban whether they agreed with his death or not."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"No. I just want to know why."

"I cannot tell you that." He grinds the words out.

"Can't?" I say, watching his face. "Or won't?" He gives me a tight smile.

"Both. I made a promise, so I won't tell. And I can't because it wouldn't be fair."

"Fair on who?"

"On Fred." He tries to push past me, but I'm a little too quick.

"Oh no, you don't. You've said too much now. I'm not letting you walk out now." He refuses point blank to meet my eyes, but he's not pulling out of my grasp.

"I'd tell you if it were different, if he were still here."

"Why would you tell me then and not now? Tell me why you killed a man you once fought alongside, Draco."

"Because he killed him."

"And what difference would that make to you? You were one of them, surely you should have celebrated!"

"Bill!" Only her voice could have stopped me in my tracks. Hermione is looking at us with horror on her face. I look down, and realise exactly how I've got hold of Draco. He's bending back onto Dad's workbench, and I'm using physical weight to hold him there while my hands grip his arms.

"It's fine, Hermione. Bill has a point."

"I don't care, I don't - Bill, let him go!" I let Draco go hastily, and he stands up - but doesn't run.

"Hermione will tell you."

"Tell him what?"

"Why I killed Rookwood."

"You killed Rookwood? When?"

"In Azkaban."

"She didn't even know You'd killed him, why would she be able to tell me?"

"Because she's brighter than you, apparently. Hermione, I assume you're out here to tell us dinner is ready? I'll tell them you're just coming." He walks out, his shoulders stooped forward and slumped. I face Hermione.

"What the hell were you doing to him?" she demands, her eyes alight.

"I swear I don't know how he ended up like that. One minute I just hand hold of his arm, the next you came in and he was like that. I just wanted - he was being all vague."

"Yes, I heard the last bit. You really are a bit dim, aren't you dear."

"Just -"

"You can't tell anyone."

"Never," I say, immediately.

"Draco and Fred were in love."

"What."

"You heard me perfectly clearly, Bill," Hermione sighs, rolling her eyes. "It started in our fifth year, when Fred was in his sixth. They met, and I'm not sure of the details. Then everything with Voldemort started for Draco. He was so - so tortured by it. And Fred did everything he could to save him and when he couldn't, he blamed himself. And neither of them could tell anyone."

"Why didn't Fred tell us?"

"Why do you think? Announcing he was sleeping with Lucius Malfoy's son? How would you have taken that, Bill, how would all of you have taken that? And Draco couldn't tell his family, for good reasons."

"I - I would have -"

"No, you wouldn't have. You would have hit the roof - not because of him being gay, I know you would have accepted that, but you would never, never have accepted who he was sleeping with. Fred didn't want you all to have to worry and he didn't want to hear you all lecture him about his choice of lover. Now we cannot discuss this here, because we've already been out here alone for five minutes. Molly will come out and this is not my confidence to betray. Perhaps when Draco is ready, he will tell them about Fred. But it will not come from my lips, nor from yours."

"I can't believe I didn't know he was gay."

"We'll never know why he didn't tell you. Perhaps because if he told you, he'd have had to tell you who he was in love with. We have to go in now, Bill. Now."

"I know." But I catch at her anyway, and she turns so easily into my arms. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"I don't think you hurt him. But he's a good person, and I am working to make people see that, and I just - I leapt to conclusions. Come on."

I follow her back inside and thankfully, nobody asks us where we've been. I assume Draco came up with a dazzling excuse. I look at George at various intervals throughout the meal, and I wonder if he knew. He must have - Fred was his twin, they spent every waking minute together. But I can't exactly go about asking him. It'd look like I had something to hide - which now, thanks to Draco and Hermione, I do. But Hermione, who's sitting next to me and obviously trying to gauge how much food she has to force down to make Mum happy, is right - I can't tell anyone. It wouldn't be at all fair.

"Hermione, darling, will you have some more potatoes? A few more vegetables? Perhaps some more sausages or bacon?"

"No, thank you, Molly. I've eaten as much as I can possibly hold."

"Are you sure, dear? Are you sure I can't tempt you?"

"Molly, dear, leave the poor girl alone." Dad intervenes. "I think the poor girl has really eaten enough. She's probably started preparing for Christmas dinner. Oh, everyone - you can start showing up any time after ten on Christmas Eve. Blaise - do you have plans for Christmas?" Blaise looks startled.

"Um, well, no. I normally spend it alone."

"My dear, you can come to us," Molly says instantly. "I'm sure Hermione would bring you anyway. You'd be most welcome."

"Thank you," Blaise says, almost shyly. "I really didn't expect - I wouldn't want you to feel obliged or anything, I mean, I'd be alright on my own -"

"Nonsense," Mum interrupts. "It's Christmas. You aren't spending it alone, and besides, we'd like you to be here."

"Just give in gracefully," Charlie advises Blaise. "She'll only spend the day fretting if you don't come." Blaise does as he's told and accepts gracefully.

They stay until early evening, until Blaise insists that he and Draco take Hermione home. As they're all saying goodbye, Hermione slips over to me. She gives me a hug, and then puts her lips to my ear.

"Come over?" I know exactly what she's asking.

"Are you sure?" I whisper back.

"Yes. I'll lower the wards, you can come right in, only don't be late."

"Midnight," I promise her, kissing her cheek. She smiles as she pulls away, and goes off for another hug from Mum. Dad prises her free, and kisses her cheek.

"See you Christmas Eve," he says, and she confirms this. She and Ginny make plans to meet up on Wednesday, to shop for Christmas gifts. And then the three of them have gone, and we're left to drift off the various occupations. George is curled up with Ginny on one of the sofas, stroking her tummy.

"Oh!" Ginny cries, sharply. Harry is at her side instantly.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern making his voice jump.

"I felt a kick," Ginny says, her face glowing.

"So did I," George says, looking at Ginny's tummy with wonder in his eyes. Harry places his hand gently on her stomach, and I can tell by seeing the smile spread across his face that he felt it too.

"Hermione," I say, "will be wild that she missed this." Ginny giggles.

"Good lord, she will be - only just this minute left, too. The first kick."

"And the last peaceful night's sleep," Mum says, smiling. "Especially if the baby takes after you, Ginny. You were an awful wriggler."

"Who was the least active?" Ginny asks, curiously. Mum grins.

"Fred and George, if you can believe it."

"You lie," George says, spiritedly. "No way were we the most peaceful."

"You were. Only wriggled during the day and even then not much. All the others were very active - and Ginny seemed to delight in kicking my spine relentlessly."

"Apologies."

"You'll find out soon enough, my dear. Even if the baby is peaceful, it's still uncomfortable."

"On that note," Harry says, getting up from his place by Ginny's side, "it's probably time Ginny and I were off. Valuable sleeping time and all that."

"It's barely eight -"

"Now, Molly. We understand, Harry. It was wonderful to see you, and we'll see you both at Christmas."

By midnight, the house is silent. I cast Silencing Charms on my room to mask the Apparation, and snap into her bedroom. She's standing by her window, looking out.

"Bill, come over here. Look at the stars."

"It's so clear tonight." I slide my arms around her waist and she leans back into me.

"Christ, Bill, I have missed you. I used to dream about you, and I'd wake up still feeling your hands on me."

"I know," I say, gripping her tighter. "I did the same, every night for months. And then I saw you at Hogwarts and you were filthy and getting ready to fight and I had never, ever seen you look so beautiful. And you barely had time to say hello and then we were fighting. And then -"

"Then the bad stuff happened," she says, softly.

"Then the bad stuff happened," I agree, stroking her hair. Then she turns in my arms and her lips are on mine again, and she's finally, finally, blissfully, back in my arms.

This isn't sex, and it isn't making love either. This is something more, something better. This is something far more tender than that, this is apology, requests to be forgiven, promises that we'll never break. This is the knowledge that we could be together for the rest of our lives and never recreate this moment, never again have this implosion of feeling and emotion, never again hold one another like there's nothing in the world but us and even that will soon be gone. So it won't happen again, and we both understand that. I want this moment engraved in my memory forever, so I never once take my eyes from her face as we take our fill of one another, as she drinks me in and I consume her. I watch her eyes fill with tears as I take her, and she kisses my eyes, lips, neck, with little soft, lingering kisses, kisses I'll never manage to forget. I watch her fall over her edge, and I feel myself fall with her. She smiles as she feels my fingers tracing her ribs and collar bone, feeling how thin she's become.

"I'm going to take care of you."

"I know."

"I can't tell you how I feel."

"I know that, too." We fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, and the last thing I see is the half-smile still on her face.