Author's Note: Alright, guys. This is the second to last chapter. I hope you're ready.

Three agonizing weeks passed.

Without Athena and Narcissa, the Malfoy Manor felt more desolate than ever. Each time Ginny looked out through the windows into the English moors, she felt as if the distance between them and the rest of the world had stretched even further. The Manor, which had been so illustrious in its inception, now looked like a skeleton forgotten in its final resting place.

If Ginny had hated it before, she positively loathed it now.

Each time she passed Athena's empty nursery, her anger grew. Every morning when she awakened, most often alone, hot tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to feel that way; she wanted to be determined, confident, ready. She wanted to feel strong and certain.

The fight was looming; June drew nearer with every passing moment.

Unfortunately, Ginny simply could not martial her strength. She trained with Blanca often at Steep Park House, but she could not concentrate. And it was not just Athena's absence or the loss of all the Muggleborn children to Damien that had her distracted.

Draco had completely withdrawn.

She should have expected this. Their relationship, meaningful and loving though it was, would not be enough to release him from years of social conditioning. Draco dealt with stress the way he always had, and that was by retreating. Ginny, on the other hand, had often had close friends and family to turn to. Now, however, most of her family was in hiding (like George and Vera) or otherwise distracted by pretending to be upstanding pureblood citizens (like Charlie and Fleur).

Ginny tried to be understanding of Draco's silence, but it was starting to get to her. Each time she walked the corridors of Malfoy Manor alone, she felt as if she was being haunted. In the last several months, since their wedding and Athena's birth, Ginny had begun to think of the manor as her home. It had a comforting familiarity to it, as well as its own set of wonderful memories to replace the terrible ones from before. Even Narcissa had become a welcome part of Ginny's life, a reliable and sometimes even understanding member of Ginny's family.

Now, she was gone as well.

A grandfather clock chimed loudly down the hallway, snapping Ginny out of her morose thoughts. Blinking against dry eyes, Ginny shifted and listened to the ringing noise, expecting it to chime several times. However, it only chimed once, and Ginny frowned before turning and looking at the small antique clock on their mantlepiece. It was one in the morning.

And Draco still was not home.

Fury filled Ginny, an anger that was sudden and feral. Draco had told her hours ago that he was going to Blaise's to "play cards," and even though Ginny had wanted to scream at him not to leave her alone, because she was just as miserable as he was and she didn't want to be by herself, she had let him go in the hopes that spending time with his friend would cheer him up.

Still, that had been just after dinner, and he still wasn't back. That sorry bastard, Ginny thought venomously, more than ready to take out all her anxiety-fueled frustrations on Draco. It was bad enough that he wasn't talking to her, but now he was going to stay out late with Blaise?

Scowling, Ginny jumped up from her spot in their room, grabbed her cloak, and then headed out of the door. Bleaker paused near the entry way. "Will you return soon, Mistress?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," said Ginny. "I'm going to go find that stupid prat Master of yours and bring him home. Wait for me here at the door."

Bleaker nodded obediently and stepped away. Ginny was out of the door a moment later, and she disappeared at the Apparition point.

An hour later, emerging from the paths just outside of the gates, Ginny Malfoy returned to the front door of the Manor and let herself inside. Bleaker was waiting there for her, and he looked up at her with large eyes.

"Welcome back, Mistress Malfoy," he said. "Did you find Master?"

Ginny looked down at the elf. "Yes," she said. "He's fine, elf."

Then she bypassed Bleaker and disappeared down the hallways, with Bleaker watching her back with a suspicious eye.

Although his services were no longer required, he followed her at a distance.

The Ginny Malfoy who had actually left the Malfoy Manor was not at home. Instead, she was where her husband had said he would be: the Zabini house.

Storming up the steps, Ginny banged her fist on the door of the home. When the house-elf answered, Ginny stepped in past him. Her trip to the Zabini household had done nothing to diminish her temper, and she was more than ready to give Draco a piece of her mind for staying out so late, for not coming home, for leaving her alone AGAIN –

"Wait, Missus – " The house-elf scrambled after her.

"Where is he?" demanded Ginny. "Where is Draco Malfoy?"

The house-elf looked startled. "Dipper – Dipper is not sure, Mistress Malfoy."

Huffing, Ginny began to move through the home, only just now noticing that many of the rooms were dark. Mere moments after her furious search began, it was brought to a sudden halt by the tip of a wand pointed directly at her throat. Ginny froze, her eyes wide, and she shifted to see Blaise Zabini glaring at her with his wand drawn. Ginny relaxed – but only a little.

"Relax, Zabini. It's me."

"I can see that," said Blaise, not lowering his wand. Ginny's eyes flickered over him, and she realized he was wearing a pair of pajama pants and nothing else. Ginny's brows furrowed. Nearby, Gabrielle peeked into the room with a concerned look; she was also wearing nightclothes. Ginny's heart fluttered with panic and confusion.

"Were you two asleep?" asked Ginny, and Blaise lowered his wand, but only a little. He scowled.

"Of course we were, you simpleton. It's one in the morning. What do you want?"

Ginny swallowed. "Is – Is Draco not here?"

Gabrielle emerged fully to stand next to Blaise, who raised a brow. "Is he supposed to be?" asked Blaise.

"Yes!" exclaimed Ginny, panic threatening to fully take her heart captive now. "Yes, he told me – I mean, was he here earlier? Did he just leave already?"

Blaise dropped his wand to his side at last. "Draco hasn't been here all evening," he told Ginny tonelessly. "I haven't spoken to him in two days."

"Oh, Merlin." Ginny pushed her hands over her face as every terrible fate rolled over her mind, crushing her heart and soul. Draco wasn't accounted for, and he wasn't home, and oh, what had happened to him? Not normally one to assume the worst, Ginny could hardly contend with the crippling anxiety that robbed her of her ability to breathe. Gabrielle hurried forward and touched her shoulder soothingly.

"Perhaps zis is all a misunderstanding, hm? I'm sure Draco is fine!"

"What did he tell you?" asked Blaise. "Tell me his exact words."

Ginny swallowed. "He said – he would be here."

"Doing what?"

Ginny sucked in a deep breath. "He said you two were playing cards. That was hours ago."

At this, Blaise's features took on a look of understanding. "Ah," he said, before sighing heavily. "I know where he is."

Ginny's eyes shot up. "What? Really?" She stepped forward. "But why would you know when I don't?"

"Because, quite frankly, I know him better than you do," said Blaise, before he turned to the side. "Dipper." The house-elf reappeared. "Get me a cloak and some robes." He turned again to Ginny. "I'll go and retrieve him. I can assure you, it's not the sort of place you would enjoy attending."

"But – "

"Don't worry, Ginny," said Gabrielle, petting her friend's head. "Blaise will take care of it. You can wait here wiz me."

Ginny thought about arguing more, but Blaise hardly left her the time. He got his things from the house-elf, and a few minutes later, he was fully dressed and out the door. Ginny and Gabrielle watched him go, and then Gabrielle took Ginny into their sitting room and curled up with her on the couch to await their return.

Fifteen minutes later, Blaise Zabini stepped into the seedy streets of Knockturn Alley and sighed. He hated this area; not because of all the Dark Magical artifacts or illegal activities, but because it was dirty and smelly. People here were often just plain disgusting.

Still, it did have one redeeming quality, and that was its "fine" selection of all-night pubs. The establishments themselves were representative of Knockturn Alley in every way, dark and dank and probably supported almost entirely by murder. However, they did provide somewhere for all the miscreants and vagabonds of magical Great Britain to gather, so they were useful in that respect.

None of these places were the type in which a well-to-do young wizard should loiter, and yet when Blaise strolled into The Lethe, that was exactly where Draco Malfoy was. He did not see Blaise, but instead focused all his attention on the bartender. A few other shadowed figures lingered in the room, but none of them dared speak to Blaise as he swept through and went directly to the bar.

"Another," said Draco to the bartender, and the old grubby wizard slid a shot glass full of amber liquid in his direction. However, before he could pick it up, Blaise's hand darted out and took it from him. Draco's brows furrowed, and he looked up as Blaise downed the drink and set the empty glass back on the bar.

"Damn it," slurred Draco, blinking slowly. "That was mine."

"Too bad," said Blaise, sitting next to him. "Hello, stupid."

Draco ignored him and looked back at the bartender, motioning for another. Blaise stopped this, though, with a narrowed glare in the bartender's direction. He shuffled away, grunting, and Draco scowled. "Go away, Blaise."

"You know," said his friend, ignoring Draco's words, "you are not being a very good husband right now." He paused. "Then again, I don't think anyone really expected you to be."

Draco dropped his head on the bar with a thunk. "Mind your own business," he grumbled.

"I would love to, believe me," said Blaise languidly. "Unfortunately, there is a very angry ginger floating around my house right now, and I can't return to sleep until you go back to her."

Draco lifted his head and squinted. "Just – tell her I'll be home by midnight."

"Nice try, mate," said Blaise, rolling his eyes. "It's one-thirty in the bloody morning."

At last, Draco looked concerned. "Oh, fuck," he muttered.

"Precisely," said Blaise. "So, pay your bloody tab, sober up, and go home."

Draco responded to this with another scowl, and he tried to wave the bartender back over. "No, I want to be drunk. Bugger off."

"I was not making a request," said Blaise coolly. "I was ordering you. Get out of here and – "

"Do you remember the first time I came here?" asked Draco suddenly, his words slow and poorly-formed. Blaise sighed deeply, but Draco went on, "It was right after I got the Dark Mark. My father was in Azkaban. My family was a mess. And I was… terrified." He picked up the empty shot glass and twirled it in his fingers before looking over at Blaise and smiling, though it was completely devoid of joy. "I wanted to kill myself," said Draco. "And I had every intention of doing so." He pointed a finger at Blaise. "But you talked me out of it."

Blaise put his chin in his hand. "A decision I am currently re-evaluating."

"Why did you do it?" asked Draco. "Why did you talk me out of it?"

Blaise huffed. "Purely selfish reasons, of course," he said after a moment. "You were always good in school, so you were easy to copy. You were an excellent scapegoat for when I got in trouble." He paused. "And standing next to you makes me look even more handsome by comparison."

Draco snorted, dropping the glass with the bar again with a soft clink.

"There," said Blaise. "Satisfied? May we go now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and tugged Draco off the barstool. Draco struggled to fight him off, though, which he was not able to do very successfully. Blaise shoved his hand into the pocket of Draco's robes, pulled out a handful of Galleons, dumped them on the bar and then bodily yanked his friend from the pub. Draco nearly fell on his face from the force of it, but he continued to struggle.

"No, Blaise! Damn it all, I want to be drunk!" The two stopped in the front of the dark, desolate cobblestone road, and Draco's features transformed into an expression of sorrow. He hiccupped. "I – I miss my daughter," he whispered.

Blaise stared at him. "What? Well, where is she?"

Draco pulled his hands away and stared morosely at the street. "We sent her away," he murmured. "Her and my mother. Far away from England."

Blaise's brows furrowed. "Why would you do a thing like – " he stopped, and his eyes grew wide. "Merlin," he said, looking aghast. "What are you planning, Draco?"

The other wizard remained silent, and Blaise pulled away with a sharp shake of his head. "Nevermind," he snapped. "Don't tell me. I'm better off not knowing." Then he grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated them both back to his home.

As soon as they arrived, Draco struggled to get away again, but Blaise grabbed both of his arms and dragged him down the elegant hallway until he came to the bathroom.

In the next room, Ginny Malfoy waited with Gabrielle, who was snoozing on her shoulder. She heard footsteps first, the sound of a struggle next, and then the slamming of a door. Seconds later, rushing water and a furious tangled shriek of curses sounded. The person screaming was undoubtedly Draco, who let loose a series of swear words that even Ginny had never heard before.

Moments later, Blaise appeared alone. He delicately flicked some water off his fingers. "Your husband will be with you shortly," he told Ginny stoically. He moved over to Gabrielle and gently tugged her off the couch.

Still half-asleep, Gabrielle leaned on him as they walked back to their bedroom. "Is everyzing okay?" she asked Blaise in a sleepy murmur.

"Yes," said her husband.

"Oh, good," she said, before looking over her shoulder at Ginny. "You two can sleep in one of ze spare rooms if you want." Then they disappeared through their bedroom door, and Ginny was left alone.

Ginny set her jaw and stood up, moving down the hallway to one of the guest bedrooms. She could still hear Draco banging around – and possibly drowning – in the shower, so she left the door open and waited where he would see her, sitting on the edge of the bed just across the hall from him.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Draco finally appeared at the door of the guest bedroom. He was soaking wet, still fully dressed in his sopping robes. At the very least, he looked rather sober and very cowed. As soon as he saw Ginny, he lowered his eyes and walked in slowly, closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, because Ginny was glaring at him, but hadn't said anything.

In a flash, the redhead was up and directly in front of Draco. She shoved at his chest hard, hot tears stinging her eyes. "What the fuck, Draco?" she exclaimed, already on the verge of tears. "Everything we've got going on, and you fucking disappear on me to go get drunk in a bloody pub? Are you serious?"

"I know," he murmured, not sitting anywhere because he was still very wet. "You're right to be angry."

Ginny folded her arms and glared at him from a few feet away. When nothing more was said, she brought up a fist and knocked it against the bedpost. Then she looked back at him, shoved her tears forcefully off her face and walked up to Draco. "Get your bloody robes off, you're soaking wet. You bloody idiot."

Draco complied, getting undressed and finally getting dry one Ginny secured at towel for him. They called the house-elf, and he brought them some spare night clothes. Ginny had already decided that she could not stand to return to the manor. She felt bad knowing that Bleaker was waiting for her, and she'd told him she would only be out a little while, but he would just have to endure for the time being.

When Draco was finally dry and dressed in some spare pajamas of Blaise's, he leaned on the bedpost and still did not sit. He hadn't said a word in several minutes, and Ginny felt as if she was about to crack down the very center of her soul.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Ginny. "Why won't you just talk to me?"

Draco looked as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't. Instead, he dragged a hand over his face and simply shook his head. Ginny dropped her head for a moment, fresh tears sliding down her cheek. "Bloody hell, Draco! I miss them, too! I'm scared, too! But I can't bloody do this if you're not with me – "

"I am," he said, looking up at her at last, his voice cracking. "I am with you, Ginny – I just – I don't know how – "

"You can't do this," cried Ginny. "You aren't alone anymore, Draco! You can't retreat to that dark space where you hide in your mind, and expect me not to follow!" She moved up to stand in front of him. "I need you, Draco. You can't do that anymore."

Draco's eyes lifted to hers, and upon seeing her expression, he reached out for her and curled her tight in his embrace. "I'm sorry," he said again, and this time he sounded more sincere. "Really."

Ginny let herself relax into his hold, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, sniffling. "If you need time alone, Draco, that's okay. But you've got to tell me the truth. Please don't lie to me again. I thought something terrible had happened to you." She pulled away to look at his face, and her fingertips brushed alone the line of his jaw. "What would you have done, if you'd found me missing? How would you have felt if you'd gone looking for me, and I wasn't where I said?"

Draco looked ashamed, and Ginny knew that he understood then. "You're right," he murmured. "I would have panicked, I would have been furious with you…"

"Exactly," whispered Ginny. She tucked her head against his chest, and he stroked her hair away from her face. "You are not alone anymore. Please don't forget that."

"I won't," he promised her. "I swear."

After that, the couple curled up on the bed together and fell asleep, each comforted by the other's nearness.

The following morning, Draco and Ginny awoke before their hosts. Seeing that it was early morning, they decided to go ahead and leave to return home. They got dressed and crept quietly down the hallway, hand in hand.

The pair had only just stepped towards the doorway when the Zabini house-elf Dipper appeared, looking frantic. "Malfoys," he said desperately. "Your house-elf is here!"

Ginny balked. Shooting a quick look at Draco, the two rushed to the front door, where Bleaker lay in the ground, his eyes half-lidded and his hand at his side. "Bleaker!" Ginny hurried to the elf's side, and he looked up at her and let out a shuddering exhale.

"Missus Malfoy…" he looked over at Draco, "Master – "

"What are you doing here?" asked Draco, kneeling next to him. Ginny reached over and moved Bleaker's hand, and to her great distress, she saw he was severely injured. The shoddy pillowcase he wore in lieu of clothes was damaged and bloody. Each breath he took sounded pained, and he could not sit up.

"Do not – go home," the house-elf warned them both, gripping Draco's arm suddenly. "Not – safe – "

"What do you mean? What happened?" asked Draco sharply. Ginny felt her eyes well with tears again.

Bleaker looked between them, and each word sounded as though it might be his last. "It was – Damien Black – "

Ginny's heart seized with fear.

"He disguised himself as Missus Malfoy," wheezed Bleaker, and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Bleaker was – suspicious, but – too late. Damien found – the book – "

"Book?" repeated Draco. "What book – " And then it hit him. His eyes widened. "The book in my safe? The one behind the blood seal?" He looked up at Ginny, stricken. "Ginny… That was the Elder Wand book. Damien has it."

"Which means he has proof that you're the true holder of the Elder Wand," whispered Ginny, trembling violently. She looked up at Draco, fingers frozen in claw-like poses at Bleaker's side. "Draco… He's going to come for you."

Bleaker grabbed Ginny's arm, but his strength was failing, and his grip was weak. "Damien thinks – Bleaker is dead, but Bleaker… got away – to warn you. Bleaker tried to stop him, Missus… Bleaker failed," he whimpered. Ginny looked back to him and reached for the house-elf, curling him in her arms.

"No, no, Bleaker, you didn't fail," she told the house-elf tearfully.

"Bleaker did not protect your book," sobbed the house-elf. "And now you are – in danger – " he looked to Draco, tears rolling down his weathered face. "Bleaker promised your father, to protect you… Always."

Draco stiffened, and he bit his lip tightly, dropping his head. "You did, Bleaker. It's alright," he told the house-elf in a trembling whisper.

"You did very well, Bleaker," whispered Ginny through her tears. "You didn't fail, I swear. You didn't fail at all. You did everything you could."

At last, Bleaker's expression, pinched with pain, relaxed. He smiled. "Good," he whispered groggily, even as his body went slack. "Bleaker is… glad." Seconds later, his eyes closed.

"Bleaker?" whimpered Ginny, holding him close, the house-elf who had been her protector and confidante, her constant companion since the moment she had stepped foot in Malfoy Manor. He was gone.

"Ginny." Draco pulled on her arm. "We've got to go. We can't let the Dark Lord find us here."

With a furious cry, Ginny gathered up Bleaker's body in her arms. "We're taking him with us," she told Draco staunchly, and he gave a quick huff before accepting the house-elf from her. Then he took one last glance at the hallway where he knew Blaise and Gabrielle were sleeping in their bedroom.

"Thanks," he told his friend in a whisper. Then he took Ginny and they vanished.

When they arrived at Steep Park House, Draco passed off the house-elf to a bewildered Richard, who was one of the many Aurors pacing the perimeter. "Bury him with the others," he told Richard, who simply nodded. Draco and Ginny hurried into the house, which was still quiet, with many of its occupants asleep.

Blanca and Ben, however, were already awake and drinking coffee at a table. When they saw Ginny and Draco rush in, their expressions stricken, Blanca jumped to her feet. "What happened?" she asked sharply.

Draco met her gaze. "Damien Black broke into our house while we were gone last night," he told her as Ben came to stand next to Blanca's side. "He knows I'm the holder of the Elder Wand. And by now, he will have told the Dark Lord. As soon as we return home… " he swallowed tightly. "The Dark Lord will be waiting for me."

Blanca and Ben stared. "Fuck," murmured Blanca, shoving strings of loose hair off her face. She turned and walked a few steps away, her hands on her hips. "How the hell does he know? What did he find?"

"A book," explained Draco. "It catalogues the owners of the Elder Wand. It's how we figured it out ourselves."

"And you just kept that lying around?" snapped Blanca.

"It was behind a blood seal," hissed Draco vehemently. "I don't know how he got it out." He scowled and shook his head. "We didn't want to destroy it after we found it, we thought we might need it to prove our case while we gathered allies."

Blanca inhaled deeply and took a few measured steps around. "So now Voldemort is going to be waiting for you," she said more calmly. "And as soon as he kills you, he's going to have full control of the Elder Wand." She rubbed her jaw and held up a hand. "Well, obviously, we can't let that happen."

"Maybe we can just hide him here," suggested Ginny, finally able to speak again.

"We could try," said Blanca, "but I'm not even sure how much longer this base will hold out. We've got those god damn Regulators prowling the area every damn day thanks to Damien Black and his little field trip."

"Besides," said Draco wearily, "if the Dark Lord really believes I'm the sole owner of the Elder Wand, he won't leave it to his henchmen to find me. He'll come looking himself. And if he does that… He will find me, wherever I am."

"So what do we do?" asked Ginny, looking desperately to Blanca for answers. Unfortunately, the other woman remained silent, and for the first time ever, Ginny feared that Blanca simply did not know.

After several minutes of heavy silence, Ben straightened from his spot. "Let me go in his place, Blanca."

The American witch looked up and quickly flicked her eyes at Ben, looking annoyed. "Shut the hell up, Ben. That's not happening and you know it."

Ben seemed to have anticipated this response. "Blanca, I'm serious."

Blanca's jaw twitched, and she turned to face her second-in-command. "And so am I. You're not going, Ben. It's stupid."

"I can fool him," said Ben more heatedly, stepping forward. "Blanca, we can't let Voldemort kill Draco Malfoy. If he gets control of the Elder Wand, we will never be able to stop him."

Blanca scowled. "Ben – "

"He's going to reveal everyone, Blanca!" exclaimed Ben, eyes blazing. "For the love of Merlin, just let me do what we came here to do already!"

"No!" snapped Blanca fiercely. "That plan isn't going to cut it, Ben. This is Voldemort, we're talking about. I'm not going to let you just – put on one of your disguises and go in front of him to be tortured to death. There's a better plan than that."

"Oh yeah?" said Ben, folding his arms. "And what is it?"

"I don't know," grunted Blanca. "But I'll figure it out. So just shut up – "

"There is no better plan, Blanca!" roared Ben, and Draco and Ginny took a step back as the two Americans rounded on one another. "We can't let Draco die, and we can't hide him here. Voldemort HAS to believe he's killed him. That way, we'll still have some time before the commencement ceremony in June, and he won't be hunting Draco anymore – "

"For the last fucking time," yelled Blanca, advancing on him, "I said NO – "

"God damn it, Blanca, I'm dying anyway!"

At this, Blanca's stomps came to an abrupt halt. "What?"

In front of her, Ben raked a hand through his hair. "I'm dying, Blanca," he told her in a murmur. He reached up and pulled down the collar of his robes, only to reveal an inky black mass on his skin that spread like the roots of a tree. "The curse Damien Black hit me with… The healers were able to slow it down, but they can't stop it." Ben met Blanca's gaze, his features tight. "I've got… a few months at the most."

Blanca stood in front of him, rigid and silent.

"So please," said Ben more softly, a slight tremor to his voice. "Let me do this. Let my death actually mean something, let it be useful."

Blanca blinked. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

The other American shifted uneasily. "Because I knew you'd send me home – "

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE SENT YOU HOME!" bellowed Blanca, and Ben winced. She walked right up to him and pointed a finger at his chest. "I would have sent you home in a fucking heartbeat, so you could be with your fucking family, Ben!"

Ben looked away from her with tight swallow. "We came here to fight, Blanca," he told her. "And we're not done."

Blanca pulled away from him roughly and paced, her back to him. Putting her hands on her hips again, she turned to face Ben. To Ginny's great shock, she saw tears forming in Blanca's eyes. She had never seen Blanca cry.

"Ben… What would I tell Sarah?" asked Blanca, and Ben shifted away from her, a hand over his face while Blanca made a soft noise of distress. "What the hell would I tell your boys?"

Ben dropped his hand and sniffed. "You would tell them," he said, working over a sob in his throat, "that I loved them very much… and that I did this so they could be safe." He looked up at Blanca, his eyes shining. However, he held himself together. When Blanca failed to respond, he stepped forward and reached into his robes.

Ben pulled out his wand. "Please, Blanca. You know it's the right thing to do." He extended the wand to her. "You know it's our best option." The wand remained where it was, hovering at the edges of Ben's fingertips. Blanca stared at him, gaze trembling, her hands on her hips.

She did not move, but neither did Ben.

After several moments, Blanca slowly lifted her hand and, meeting Ben's gaze, she took his wand. Then she pulled open the pocket of her robe, where two other weathered and bloodied wands sat. With shaking fingers, she slid Ben's wand next to Alec's and Jillian's.

Ben gave a short nod, and then he looked to Ginny and Draco. "Does Voldemort know that you've been warned?"

"No," murmured Draco, utterly ashamed. "He thinks my house-elf died before he had a chance to contact us."

"Good," said Ben stiffly. "Then he'll have no reason to be suspicious."

Ginny reached for Draco's hand and tugged on it. "We'll give you two a few minutes," she said softly. She and Draco left the room after that, and Ben and Blanca remained alone. Ginny was not sure if she could handle seeing Blanca cry; the sounds that filtered through the closed door were horrible enough.

A few minutes later, Blanca emerged, called together her Aurors, and informed them of the plan. There were many protests, but Blanca stiffly and harshly told them this was necessary. The group was dismissed after that, and the Americans were able to say good-bye to Ben.

Keosha sat down heavily next to Ginny and Draco.

"So Ben and Blanca were close?" asked Draco, looking out into the tree line.

Keosha frowned. "Since Ilvermorny," she muttered. "She's the one who convinced him to become an Auror."

Draco buried his face in his hands. A few minutes later, he was called inside, and he found Ben standing in one of the small bedrooms. Draco closed the door behind him, and Ben extended some robes to him. "I need yours," he told Draco matter-of-factly. "And your wand, too. Ginny can return it to you later."

Draco took the robes in numb fingers, and he began to pull off his own to hand over to Ben. "I'm sorry," said Draco, because he had to say something. He looked up at Ben. "You lot came here to help us, to help fix a situation that I caused."

Ben gave him a small smile, and he stopped his work to lean on a table. After a moment, he looked up at Draco. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," said Draco, pausing as well.

Ben fiddled with his robes, looking younger than before. It was clear he was doing his best to keep normal, and the conversation was taxing on him. He cleared his throat. "I, um, I have two sons at home," he said, and Draco felt his heart twist. "They're ten and twelve," went on Ben, "and they haven't gotten to travel much. So do you think – maybe after the war, when everything is safe… You could bring them and their mom here to England? Like a vacation?" He smiled a little. "I want them to have something to look forward to, once I'm – once I'm gone."

Draco barely managed to nod. "Yes, certainly," he told Ben. "They'll have the very best."

Ben smiled sincerely at this, even as he seemed desperately to want to cry. "Good, thank you." After that, he began getting ready again. Draco gave Ben his robes and his wand, and Ben donned them all. "Don't worry," he teased to Draco. "I can do a lot of accents."

"I'm sure," murmured Draco, trying unsuccessfully to smile at the man who was willfully dying in his place.

Ten minutes later, Ben was dressed as Draco and standing next to Ginny, who was also doing her very best not to have a complete breakdown. She had to show up with "Draco" and act normal. They needed Voldemort to believe in Draco's death, or this was for nothing.

Blanca and all the others looked on as Ben gave them all one last smile wearing his own face. After that, he transformed into Draco and offered Ginny his hand. Once their fingers were locked together, they walked out of Steep Park House and past the barriers.

"Are you ready?" asked Ben to Ginny, sounding remarkably calm.

Only able to nod, Ginny leaned into him, and they both vanished.

In mere moments, the two arrived at the Malfoy Manor, just outside the main gate. Ginny could not see inside, but as soon as they appeared, she stopped and tugged on Ben's hand. "I can feel him," she whispered, and Ben's borrowed features looked down at her. "He's in there," Ginny told him.

Ben nodded. "Good," he said. "Then we'll be able to get it over with quickly." He looked back to Ginny. "Try and make sure you cover me, once it's over. I should maintain my form for a little while, but it won't last forever."

Ginny's features pinched sorrowfully, and she jumped into Ben's arms. "I will," she told him, arms around his neck. Ben chuckled tearfully and held her, and they both stayed where they were, needing each other's comfort in that moment.

"It's alright," soothed Ben in a shaky whisper. "It'll all be okay." His accent seemed strange, coming from Draco's features. He smoothed her hair back from her face.

"You are so – so brave," sobbed Ginny. "And you would have made such – a good Gryffindor."

Ben smiled tearfully. "That's a very big compliment," he said, "coming from someone like you." He reached up a hand and pressed away her tears with a curled finger. "Come on."

Taking each other's hands again, Ben led Ginny down the pathway to the stately manor home. One of the few remaining house-elves let them in, and Ginny and "Draco" entered the parlor to find Voldemort, Damien, and Bellatrix Lestrange all waiting for them.

The entire event would later fall to a strangely theatrical place in Ginny's mind, a misty haze of surreal acts that she would revisit with uncertainty many times later in her life. There was Damien, holding the book he had stolen and gleefully telling them that he'd come to their house looking for proof of their part in what had happened in the forest, and instead finding this. He laughingly told them about how he'd procured some of Athena's blood from the hospital to bypass the blood seal, as she was a direct descendent of Draco's, and her blood was as good as his.

Ginny would later remember how Ben dropped to his knees in front of Voldemort and begged him for forgiveness. He pleaded with Voldemort, telling him that it would be enough to simply disarm him, he didn't need to kill him. He affected every nuance of Draco's voice, his mannerisms, so convincing in his act that Ginny's agony was compounded to the point of hysteria. Nothing about her anguish was insincere; not a single tear was forced.

The only comfort Ginny had, as she thrashed against Bellatrix's hands restraining her, was that Voldemort was tired of playing games. When he pointed his wand at Ben, he did not bother to torture or maim him.

It was a flash of green light, and he was dead.

"NO!" screamed Ginny, and Bellatrix finally let her go, cackling as Ginny fell to her knees next to the body and threw herself on top of it. Voldemort turned to leave, but Damien lingered.

"I suppose that means you're on the market once more," he whispered to Ginny tauntingly as he passed. Ginny looked up, her face red and streaked with tears.

"GET OUT!" she bellowed furiously, and the entire room surged with magical energy, shattering all the glass in the room. Bellatrix pulled out her wand with a sneer, moving as though to punish Ginny for her outburst, but Voldemort held up a hand.

"Careful now, Bellatrix," he said, unmoved by Ginny's sobs. "You might be looking at your successor."

Then he left, with Bellatrix's wild-eyed rage shifting in Ginny's direction. She stormed off after Voldemort, and Damien – rather wisely – did the same. The trio left the house, and Ginny was once again left alone.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed again, and it seemed as though it rang in Ginny's head for days.

The Daily Prophet ran the story before the day had even ended. The headline read: DRACO MALFOY, HEAD OF MUGGLEBORN REGISTRATION, DEAD AFTER TRAGIC ACCIDENT AT HOME.

In Myrrdin, Blaise Zabini looked over the newspaper in his hand as he stood next to the fireplace. The article was brief and deliberately vague, but he read it for a very long time.

"Because you let me stay at your home," he murmured, "when I was too afraid to go back to my own."

He crushed the paper in his hand after that, tossed it in the fire, and then left the room.

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Blaise, why are you like this.