We All Fall Down

by Tiny Q

Voldemort’s back despite the prophecy and Ginny is the first to know. She is the only one who can protect his intended victims and Voldemort will do anything to stop her. Considering the stakes, why does her family hire Draco, to protect her? D/G

5. One More Time

Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: If you are wondering about my other stories, as many people seem to be, I have put them on hold for the moment. I have been far too depressed to work on them. If I even try to think about them they get very angsty. So, I have decided to just give them a bit of a rest until I cheer up a bit. Hopefully that will be soon... Anyhoo, depression is great for this story. This chapter is packed full of angst and moody depression in all the right places. Hopefully. I hope you all enjoy it. I have had half of this chapter typed up for about a year, and I finally get to put it into something. Oh happy day. Also, this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any story. Lovely, eh?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even the idea of Mrs. Weasley's present isn't entirely mine. I got it from this tacky little gift from a Sears catalogue. But if you are curious about it you will just have to read. It is basically the same thing, just less tacky...

We All Fall Down

Chapter 5

One More Time

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "One More Time" by Korn

o-o-o

Draco lay on his side, facing the back cushions of the couch. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he was seeing the soft fabric rather than the bookshelves that he had been waking up to for the past week, so he just stared at them, trying to remember. Nothing came to his mind. It was the soft shuffling of feet, however, that brought it all back. The little girl, his new bed, Weasley in white, her black owl...

Turning over carefully, he had to restrain himself from jerking back in surprise. Large, blue eyes, set in a childish face, were peering at him. He stared back for a moment before slowly moving to sit up.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," Emaleen said, sitting on the coffee table, her little legs swinging slightly. "Ginny wouldn't let me wake you. She said you needed your beauty sleep." She frowned slightly. "But I told her that boys don't need beauty sleep because they aren't beautiful."

"Let's have this conversation in about ten years or so," he found himself grumbling, pushing his hair out of his face. The little girl simply scrunched her face at him. "What time is it?" he added, looking blearily around. The sun was shinning near the top frame of the window, so it had to be later than he usually got up. The missing of time was becoming a nasty habit with this child around.

"About ten," she replied, smiling once more. "Why don't you sleep with a pajama shirt on?" she asked him, looking pointedly at the naked portion of his body. "Daddy always sleeps with his on." Draco simply stared at her but was saved from having to awkwardly answer her. Not that he would have answered her awkwardly, he was a Malfoy after all. Malfoys never act awkward.

"Emaleen, don't bother Dra-" Ginny's cheerful voice called to the little girl but she cut off. Draco looked up and met her chocolate brown eyes, keeping his own shielded.

'She's wearing white again,' he realized in his head, taking in the simple cotton summer dress. It was modestly cut and rather loose around her figure, but seemed to emphasize the dangerously skinny frame she had allowed her body to waste away into. Whether it was an intentional thing or not Draco couldn't be sure. Though he knew both options were quite plausible.

Her long red hair was wavy as usual, though it was clipped back as apposed to hanging in her face, hiding it from the world. This new hairdo allowed Draco to see the makeup to woman had piled on her face. Something he had never seen her wear, though the results were rather astonishing. The dark smudges were gone causing her eyes to look bright and alive, accented by a near invisible hint of yellow. Even her skin seemed to glow healthy as apposed to the pasty white she usually appeared to be. Draco felt something move in his stomach and he pointedly ignored it.

"Oh, you're up," she said flatly, breaking eye contact and allowing them to flick all over the couch and the little girl on the coffee table.

"Good morning to you too," he sneered in response. Looking away from her beautified person, he swung his legs out from under the blanket he had been under and dropped them to the hardwood floor. A cold chill ran up his feet, traveling into the rest of his body, which he ignored.

"Emaleen" the red head said, looking past him. The little girl looked attentively at the woman, little legs still swinging. "Are all your things packed up?" She nodded her head vigorously.

Draco looked at the little girl for a moment, taking in her large smile. Somewhere inside him he was envious of that smile, so bright and innocent. He snapped his eyes away from her, quelling the thought and stood up. Leaning back he stretched out the kinks in his back. Several popping and cracking sounds emerged from the area as he straightened out his vertebrae. He ignored them as the sensation of the release of tension filled his spine.

The two other occupants of the room stared at him, the smaller of the two with amusement while the other had a look of disgust. He simply smirked at the latter then made his way over to the bathroom, ignoring the stiffness in his ankles and forcing himself to walk normally. He was not about to show the Weasley exactly how stiff that couch had actually made him.

He emerged from the bathroom a short while later, looking what he thought to be his best. To him though, he always looked his best, so it wasn't much of a surprise. He had a duty to look professional at all times, or so he thought. And today was no exception, even if he was going to be spending time with the Weasley Clan.

Ginny and he had argued for quite a few days over this. She had insisted that her mother's birthday was a very important event and that she had to attend. Draco, the thought of anything excessively Weasley disgusting him, had refused to allow her to go, claiming it was unsafe. She had spouted off rants about the excessive amounts of wards about the place, the isolation of the place and so on and so on. Eventually she had won. Though as to how Draco had allowed the victory he had no idea. He had almost forgotten about the dreaded event altogether, but apparently it was still a go.

"Bye Draco!" Emaleen called, running towards him, around the corner, and attached herself to his legs. He faltered slightly, adjusting to the extra weight and restriction of movement, glad that it was only him and her in the hall. He wasn't prepared to see the look of malicious glee he would see pass over the Weasley's face. Or worse, the considering expression she had given him the day before. "Mummy's here now!"

Draco reached down and took her tiny hands in his, and pried them off of his legs and held them, kneeling down in front of her. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but it seemed that the habit had not changed from the day before. The habit to seem to know instinctually what to do. It still gave him the creeps. She smiled at him, now at eye level.

"Will I be seeing you again?" she asked, swinging his hands back and forth as she seemed to have a tendency to do. He suspected it was the built up energy that only a child could have. She dropped her voice, "I like you better than all of Ginny's other friends."

Draco smirked slightly. "I can't make any promises," he said after a moment, not sure why he was even saying it. He knew that as soon as this job was done that he would be leaving. He would not be staying around the Weasley if he did not need to be around her. It was only a matter of how long he would have to be around her now. How long it would take until the Dark Lord took his death warrant off of her head. If his last reign was any indication, it could be a few years. "But you most likely will," he added with this new thought in mind.

"Good," Emaleen said with a nod, then attached herself around his neck, squeezing him. His arms drifted up and he found himself embracing the small girl back, making sure not to squeeze her little frame too tightly for fear of breaking her.

It was such a bizarre feeling. He protected people, witches and wizards alike, as a career, and yet he never felt such a preciousness about protecting any of them. Never this almost instinctual feeling that he had to tread carefully. Had to be careful or he could break something. 'Perhaps I really should stay away from children when this was all over with,' he mused, trying to suppress the feelings this new revelation brought about. They felt completely unique to anything he had ever felt before and he didn't like them. Didn't like the responsibility that they hinted towards.

"Emaleen!" her mother's voice called from around the corner. "Ginny has to leave soon! We have to go!"

"Bye!" the little girl chirped, planting a small kiss on his cheek before scurrying off around the corner once more. A few moments later he heard the door close. Yet he couldn't quite bring himself to move from his position near the ground. It was just too much, he supposed. Too much for him to take, to receive such benevolence from someone so innocent. He almost felt as if he had damaged her just by having her like him. To have her like something that was corrupt. Almost...

He stood up abruptly, forcing such thoughts from his mind. He strode into the study, which was once again his room, and kicked his trunk open, tossing a few things into it. Then he lazily waved his wand at it, shrinking it down to pocket size. He picked it up and placed in into one of his inner robe pockets. Now he was all set for a night's stay at the Weasley's residence. He had everything he had arrived with.

He walked back into the living room where he was greeted by the sight of Weasley. She was standing by the front door, a large tan side bag on her shoulder and white sandals on her feet. She was tapping the right one rather impatiently and he could sense a change in the air. It was as if the absence of the child had instantly raised their animosity to the level it was before, if not higher. He narrowed his eyes at her, ready for a fight.

"Grab something to eat, we have to go now or we're going to be late," she told him, looking at her watch. Without a word he turned into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl resting on the island. When he returned she was holding out her hand and, after a moment, he placed the piece of fruit in it. She tucked it into her bag.

He silently put on his shoes the straightened up, glancing around the flat. "All your appliances are off?" he asked her, trying to detect anything wrong. "Wouldn't want to come home to a burnt out place."

She made an irritated noise and opened the door in response, holding it open and waiting for him to leave. When he did she slammed the door shut, locking it with a set of Muggle keys; they were tucked into her bag as well. They turned and walked towards the stairs just as a door three suits down to the left of hers opened and a woman came out, glancing around.

"Good morning Ginny," the woman said pleasantly, smiling from behind a set of pink plastic framed glasses.

"Good morning Cassandra," the red head replied, smiling cheerfully in return. "How are you?"

"Oh, not too bad," the woman named Cassandra sighed, pushing her surprisingly light blonde hair from her eyes. Draco had a feeling that it wasn't natural; it was the kind of unnatural hair color that Muggles created. He restrained a sneer, but wasn't completely successful. Her eyes drifted over to him. "And who's this?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny replied simply, glancing from him to the woman before her. "Old friend, I suppose you could say."

"Oh," she said, nodding at him. "Hi." She turned towards her door, pulling on it slightly and locking it. She dropped the keys into a simple, nondescript, purse that was drooping over her shoulder. She then turned her smiling face to the red head once more. "I haven't seen that black haired fellow around here in a while. What ever happened to him? He was always such a sweetie."

Draco frowned internally. The way the woman put it made it seem like Potter was the type to charm women off heir feet. He shuddered at the mere thought of it. Then something else occurred to him: how did every woman in the building seem to know about Harry Potter? His mind began to travel along a tangent he really didn't want to go down. So instead he turned his attention to his charge's words.

"We broke up a few weeks ago," Ginny replied, shrugging ever so slightly. Draco noticed that she seemed a touch more tense than the occasion called for. Turning his attention to his surroundings he could not pick up on anything that could cause her sudden edginess, except for perhaps the fake blonde. "When is your husband coming back from Iraq?"

There seemed to be nothing very interesting about the woman. If anything she was a little dorky, but generally one of those people you ignored when you walked by them. Definitely not one of the stop and stare types. Not with that atrocious hair anyway.

"His tour of duty will be over in a month or so," Cassandra replied, twisting her hands slightly. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Muggles and their pathetic excuse for politics. "I'll be glad when he's back though; it gets so boring around here without him."

"Understandably so," Ginny replied, glancing to Draco as she said it. She turned back to the woman, smiling once more. "I would love to chat some more but we have to get going. It's my mother's birthday and my brothers will freak if we're late."

Cassandra nodded understandably. Draco presumed she had heard stories about the Weasley Clan. "Well, tell her happy birthday for me, alright?" Ginny nodded in agreement then gave a little wave and continued on her way to the stairwell. Draco nodded to the fake blonde and followed after the Weasley.

"That woman gives me the creeps," Ginny confided in him after the door had closed and they had gone down a flight of stairs. He turned his head towards her, watching as she carefully held her hand above the banister as though to drop it onto security if she were to fall. It was a tendency of hers that he had picked up on his first trip with her down a set of stairs. It was almost as if she was protecting herself from a repeat occurrence. He had never asked though for he didn't really care.

"And that is why you are so polite to her," he sneered, turning away to look through the window of the third floor door. There was no one on the other side.

"What's the point of antagonizing people?" she said, then hissed, "But I suppose that's idea is completely lost on you, isn't it?" Yes, the animosity was definitely back. Draco wasn't completely upset by this though. Hate was something he could deal with. Something he could understand. Especially when it came to Weasleys. Or rather, this Weasley.

"You should take some of your own advice, Weasley," he drawled, looking into the second floor door's window. He heard her snort.

"Do you always have to act so paranoid?" she demanded. He looked at her and she gestured with her right hand at the door. "It's not like someone is going to pop out of one of them and kill us."

"It's my job to be paranoid," Draco said, frowning. He made a point to look at the window a second time, and then glanced upwards to the floors above. She made another irritated noise and he smirked. She was simply too easy to vex. "And it's more your death than my own that I am trying to prevent."

"And how much do they pay you extra if you rattle that one off?" she scoffed, glaring slightly. Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Didn't get much sleep last night, did we?" he said, smirking. "Sleeping Drought withdrawals? I know how difficult they can be." He didn't really. The drought never had much of an effect on him. A side effect that much annoyed him at times.

"Shut up," she snapped, shoving open the doors to the lobby and letting them crash into his waiting hands. He had come down this flight of stairs a few too many times not to expect the treatment. He had also opened his mouth a few too many times to comment on it once more. So he held his tongue and followed the red head's warpath across the Muggle tiled floor of the lobby and out onto the sidewalk outside.

She headed towards the alleyway without a glance and Draco strode to keep up with her, the irritation that he usually felt when she did this returning. The awareness that in the seconds she was out of sight something could go terribly wrong. He managed to catch up, however, just as she reached the mouth of the alley. Glancing around it, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual Muggle garbage that they were unknowledgeable in disposing of. His lip curled up in disgust, as it always seemed to do when he entered this place of his own freewill.

The Weasley strode to the middle if the alleyway, in between the brick wall and the entrance, then spun on her sandaled heel and glared at him. Draco glared back, crossing his arms, cocking an eyebrow in the process.

"Have you ever been to Ottery St. Catchpole?" Ginny asked him, pulling out her wand from her large side bag. He assumed that she must have had all of her belongings in there. Or at least, the ones she needed to stay overnight at the Weasley residence.

He nodded once in response, reaching into his robes for his own wand.

"Then Apparate to the alley beside the bookstore." With a swish of her wand and a "pop" she was gone from sight. Shaking his head, Draco followed suit, intent on getting to the destination before the woman could get herself into any trouble. In his mind she was irrational enough to let it happen to herself.

He reappeared instantly in another alley that looked suspiciously like the one he had just vacated. Shoving such ridiculous thoughts from his mind, he turned to his left to see the red headed woman already walking towards the exit. He strode quickly towards her, once again catching at her arm. 'This is getting pathetic,' he mentally growled, scowling down on the woman who was now looking at him with mild curiosity.

"How many times do I need to tell you, Weasley," he hissed, increasing the pressure of his grip. "That there is no point in me being here if you don't let me protect you." She stared up at him indifferently. "It's not like I like it any better than you do, but the situation being the way it is I have no choice. And neither do you." Then he sneered slightly. "Remember, it's not just your life that I am saving here."

"I don't need you to remind me of this everyday, Malfoy," she spat, pulling her bare arm out of his grasp. She glared up at him, the redness of her hair seeming to emphasize her anger. "Don't you think I know what the consequences of my actions will be?"

"Obviously you don't," Draco snarled, his voice getting lower, his accent more pronounced. "Otherwise you wouldn't be acting like a bloody fool every minute of the day."

"I am not having this conversation with you right now," she snapped, turning away from him and taking the last few steps to be out in the open. He almost reached out and grabbed her a second time that day, but restrained himself. There was nothing he could do, short of beating her over the head with something blunt, which would make her wake up and realize the world. Perhaps a beating wouldn't even do it. Perhaps there was something permanently disjointed in her head.

In the short time it took him to move to stand beside her he discovered she had already flagged down one of those yellow Muggle cars. He had always disliked the machines, their color a blazing symbol of all he despised of Muggle society. He shook his head slightly. As to why he was so vehement against Muggles this day was beyond him. Usually he could keep his hate under control. Perhaps it was Emaleen withdrawals. Perhaps it was Weasley and her sudden return to the ice queen she had been before.

She opened the door and he gestured for her to get in. As she slid down, the hem of her dress rose up a few inches. Draco pointedly ignored it, instead choosing to glare threateningly at the driver in front of them. The man cheerfully grinned back.

"Morning!" he chirped as Draco closed the door. "Where will I be taking you this fine morning?"

"The gas station on Range Road and Yellowbird Crossing," Ginny said in a deceivingly sweet voice. Draco turned his glare to her, suddenly suspicious of how fast she could change her attitudes. Yet as she cut her eyes towards him her face was back to the look of contempt it usually held. Usually held except for yesterday. 'Stop thinking about that,' he snarled at himself, leaning back into the squishy seat of the car.

The driver drove out of the city, making his way out onto a winding, country road. Draco could see the dust being kicked up into the air in the mirrors placed on the side of the car. The driver himself chatted merrily with the woman beside Draco, looking into the rearview mirror with an expression that Draco did not entirely like. He kept a scowl on his face the entire way, intending for the man to get the message. Apparently he was either extremely oblivious or extremely stupid. Draco was leaning more towards the latter of the two.

Draco watched as Ginny would lean forward, talking cheerfully to the driver. It was an almost disgusting display of false cheer. He knew that the woman didn't really have that cheerfulness inside of herself. Even when Emaleen had been around she still seemed subdued and gloomy. So why this sudden change? His questioning thoughts halted as he noticed something.

The mark he had seen on Ginny's chest when she had first collapsed onto him was glimmering at the edge of her dress. He stared at it, trying not to seem obvious. He hadn't given the mark much thought as of late, but now his curiosity was once again piqued. Just when he realized his staring was becoming obvious, the woman shifted, pulling up her dress, as if on instinct. Draco turned and looked out the window, trying to ignore the other two in the car and keep track of where they were being taken. He would simply have to find out about the mark at a later time.

"And here we are," the driver said, bringing the car to a rather jerky stop in front of a rundown gas station. Draco frowned at it in distaste. Ginny shot him a warning look.

"Thank you," she replied, handing him a few slips of Muggle money. "Have a good day."

"You too, Madame," the driver responded, and he still had that look that Draco just didn't like. Ushering the woman out of the vehicle, he sent one final glare at the driver. The driver once again ignored him, turning the car about and heading back the way they had come.

"Do you have to be like that?" Ginny hissed, pulling her side bag up along her shoulder and readjusting her dress once more. He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," he said simply then looked around. They seemed to be in the middle of no where really, just a large farming area with endless fields filled with wheat and corn. Nothing structural for miles, and if there was anything they were hidden by the rolling hills around them. He supposed that she had been right about the isolation of the residence. "So where to now?"

"About ten minutes up that road," the woman replied, pointing towards a dirt road that traveled up one of the hills surrounding them. With a shrug of indifference, he made towards it, walking along side her.

Once again they traveled in silence, the only sound being the crunching of dirt under their feet. For some reason Draco had the urge to break the silence, to keep himself from hearing the hallow sound of the dirt, but couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing until something popped into his mind.

"That bird," he began slowly, rewarding him with the indifferent face of the Weasley turned towards him. He pushed on despite her lack of attentiveness. "The owl. He's the one that delivered the letters, isn't he?"

The red head stared at him for a moment, and he could not tell what was going on in her head. It was almost as if she was debating whether or not he was trustworthy enough to know about her precious pet. As if he was a fiend who took sadistic pleasure in hurting birds.

"Yes," she replied after a moment, the sound of their feet ever present. Apparently she thought that he was trustworthy enough after all. Somehow this didn't make him feel very trusted at all. "Yes, he delivered all of my warnings."

'Warnings' he thought. 'What a simple way to put them.' They had been warnings of imminent death. Twenty four hours to save your own hide. Sometimes it had been even less than that, or so he had heard. But judging by the recovery time the woman took after a premonition it didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Oh," was all that he found he could say. But really, what was there to say?

If he had thought of anything else to add, he never would have had the chance to voice it anyway for it was at this time that they came to the top of the hill. Draco looked down onto the flat land that stretched out before them, all questions gone.

It was a quaint little place, as far as he could tell, but it screamed Weasley. From the slanting little house with its mismatched and chipping paint, to the few chickens that scattered across the front lawn. He was almost expecting a cow to lumber its way over to the flower bed, filled with a selection of mundane perennial plants. The cornfield to the left of the house and the small forest and lake to the right seemed to emphasize the primitiveness of the residence, though Draco wasn't exactly sure how it. It was a pitiful place for the Minister for Magic to live in.

How could the leader of a nation live in such a display of poverty? The residence of a leader should scream the prestige and power of the people. This, this shack, was nothing but a joke compared to Fudge's old residence or the man who had held the position before him. But then, Arthur Weasley was leading in a different and "revolutionized" fashion. Perhaps this was one of the marks. Draco resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust.

He was mildly surprised that Ginny did not make a comment about the house and his obvious distaste for it. If anything she was resolute on not saying anything, a complete turn around from when they had been beyond the hill. He would suspect that the hill had prevented the animosity from traveling over with them, but he knew it was a ridiculous thought. That part of their relationship would never leave. Only the little girl seemed to be the cure.

They made their way up the porch steps, and he was rather disappointed to not hear any creaks or groans of age. They were as silent as if they had been installed yesterday, though their appearance suggested otherwise. Yet there was an absence of cobwebs or dirt and he began to realize that perhaps the place simply looked like trash but was taken care of as though it was a manor like his own. Which was a thought Draco did not want to ponder.

They came to a stop in front of the blue painted door where an ornate looking knocker, in the shape of a fox, hung. Draco reached out for it, intending to knock and announce their presence, when the red head's hand shot out and gripped his wrist. He turned and looked at her with annoyance. She was looking at the door, straight on, a blank look on her face that had become all too familiar to him. He remained still, watching her, until she turned to look at him, warning now in her eyes.

"I don't care what they say, what they do, Malfoy," she began, her voice absent of emotion, her eyes seemed to fill the void thought. He found he could do nothing but stare at her and listen to what she had to say. "I don't care if they threaten to kill you or insult your family. I want you to do nothing that will ruin this day for my mum." She returned her eyes to the door. "I want you to treat this as a professional event and act accordingly."

"And why should I do this?" Draco sneered, pulling his hand loose of her grip, realizing that she still had a hold of his wrist. He dropped it to his side. "You haven't made my job easy over the past few weeks, why should I make your life easy?"

"Because it's for your own good," she replied, frowning at the door. Then she turned to look at him once more, a scowl on her face now. "My family is going through a lot right now. All they need is something to make them snap. Don't be that something Malfoy, I'm warning you."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but he never quite got the chance as the red head's hand shot out and grabbed the knocker, raising it up and letting it fall with a small "clunk". The clunk then proceeded to echo behind the door, seeming to fill the entire house with their announcement. Draco felt something sink in his stomach. Something he did not entirely like.

After a few seconds the door opened to reveal a short, plump woman with red hair that almost rivaled that of the Weasley beside him. Draco took in the woman's flower print dress, covered over by an apron of a different print. The two articles clashed horribly with each other, and simply screamed Weasley. Yet despite the woman's atrocious selection of clothing, she was beaming at them like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Come in! Come in!" she said happily, ushering the two of them over the threshold and into the Weasley's residence.

Draco glanced around quickly, taking in the small hallway and the sitting room to the left of it. All of the furniture looked worn, and faded, if not rumpled. The rug beneath his feet was fraying in the corners, showing its age. And as the woman before him mismatched, the house itself mismatched. White walls, red curtains, blue and green couches. It was a disgrace to any normal wizard, but for the Minister for Magic to live here? He tried his best not to snort in disgust.

"It's so good to see you, Ginny," her mother cooed, drawing Draco's attention back to the matter at hand. He watched as the short woman pulled her daughter into a hug, causing the younger woman to stoop at an odd angle to accommodate her mother. Draco smirked slightly as the older woman seemed reluctant to let go of the other Weasley. "I am so sorry I wasn't there at the meeting. But you know how it is with your father's job. And they won't let me go to your flat or use the floo-"

"I know mum," Ginny replied, gently prying herself out of her mother's arm. Draco's smirk spread a tiny bit more and she glanced at him, a slight frown creasing her face. Then she turned back to her mum, and smiled once more. "But happy birthday." She gave the shorter woman a quick peck on the cheek, causing her to smile, if possible, even wider.

Draco stood there, watching the exchange, feeling jealousy churn slightly within him. It had been so long since he had seen his own mother smile at him like that... It's just gone. There's nothing we can do but make her comfortable...

His reminiscing was cut short as he realized the short woman was looking at him, turning her smile on him. He didn't think it was quite possible for a Weasley to smile at him as she was doing, but apparently it was. Draco stood there, staring at her, waiting for the smile to drop, but what happened next took him completely by surprise. Seemingly without thought the plump woman wrapped him up into a hug as well.

Eyes going wide, Draco looked at his charge. She seemed to be mirroring his own surprise, staring at her mother in disbelief. Draco felt his body go completely ridged, and waited for her to release him. He wasn't used to being hugged by people, let alone Weasley women. No, especially Weasley women.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," the Weasley said, her voice sounding slightly constricted now, muffled by his chest. "Taking care of my baby girl for me..."

He felt in that moment completely thrown out of his element, even more so than the night before. He had had to deal with the relations of his other charges before, but none of them had gone to quite this length to thank him. And unlike the night before, his instincts did not kick in and help him know what to do. So he found himself awkwardly patting the woman on the back, feeling all together unMalfoy-like.

"I am simply doing my job, Mrs. Weasley," he replied, slightly uncertain he was saying the right thing. It came out colder than he had intended, but then, why should he care if he offended her? She was a Weasley after all.

"Molly dear," the woman said, releasing him and stepping back, the smile on her face once more. For some reason he wondered if her daughter had the same smile. But then, he didn't think he had ever seen her smile. Or at least, he hadn't seen her since she was too young to be much of anything. 'Not that she is much of anything now,' he thought disdainfully. "Please call me Molly."

"Molly," he said, dipping his head slightly in compliance.

He heard a door open across the sitting room and turned to see a red headed man walk into the room from what appeared to be the kitchen. Upon seeing them he smiled, and called over his shoulder: "Oi, George, Ginny's here!"

There was a slight scuffle as the man in the door and an exact copy, who appeared from behind the other, made their way over to the aforementioned woman. It took him the slightest second to realize these were those twins. The ones who always made sure he had bludger flying about his head. He frowned at them.

The one that had first made his appearance made it to Ginny first and swept her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground. He watched in slight amazement as the woman allowed this to happen to her, passive as a kitten. She let out a laugh, patting the man on the back. He continued to watch, not sure that this was the same charge he had arrived with, as the man whispered into her ear causing her to giggle. He couldn't remember hearing her giggle before. Not since about the last time he saw her smile like she had no worries. Back in Hogwarts before it all started.

The second twin then gave his sister a hug, lifting her off the ground as well, but spinning her about. He felt his eyes widen in slight surprise. Now she was allowing herself to be spun. It was so against her nature. He heard Molly Weasley gasp, and turned to see that her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at the scene unfolding before them.

"George!" Molly snapped, beginning to frown. "Put your sister down. I do not want a repeat of what happened last year."

"That was just a fluke, mum," the twin replied, but placed Ginny back on the ground nonetheless. "There's no way that can happen again." Draco didn't quite get the chance to wonder about what might have happened, though he told himself that he didn't really care, because the two men had turned away from their sister and were now looking at him.

He stared back at the two of them impassively, taking in their brightly colored clothing that seemed of far too high of quality to be on a Weasley. He was use to these sorts of showdowns, for it seemed people seemed to enjoy trying to stare him down. They never won though. No one could stare down a Malfoy. Just as it was beginning to become cumbersome, however, the two nodded their heads in unison, acknowledging him. Draco's exterior remained as it was, yet he was almost too startled to do the same in return. Almost.

One of the twins then walked forward and grabbed his sister's hand, who had been watching the proceedings with a smirk. She turned it onto him for a moment, and Draco felt something move inside of his chest. He frowned at her and smirked a smirk of his own as the twin began to pull her towards the kitchen.

"You're late," the twin scolded, pulling on his sister's hand a bit more, forcing her to walk faster.

"Yah," the other added, waggling his finger at her. "Everyone has been waiting for you."

"Somehow I highly doubt that," Ginny replied caustically, yet laughed as if she hadn't just said anything but a snarky comment.

Draco couldn't quite figure it out. It was all so surreal. Here was the most disturbed woman he had ever met, and he didn't quite know when he had exactly realized that she truly was, letting herself be treated like a little child with her family. He knew that she wasn't in any way that docile, that she must have been grinding her teeth together in an attempt not to snap and giver herself away, and yet she was pulling it off as naturally as breathing. And he simply couldn't figure out why she would do it.

Why would she refuse at act herself in front of her family, the people she was supposed to be able to trust the most out of everyone she knew? And yet she revealed herself in full force to strangers like him. Draco realized then that perhaps the side of Ginny that he saw, wasn't truly the real her. Well, it was, but perhaps it was tainted by her animosity towards him. But it still did not explain why she was acting like a docile animal. She had more fury in her, regardless of why it was that he saw it. Why would she not expose that part of herself to her family, the people she could trust?

"Come along, dear," the last Weasley in the room said to him in a polite voice, bringing him out of his revere once more. "You might as well go out and meet the rest of them." With this said the plump woman began to shoo him outside.

He traveled through the door and into the kitchen the three other red heads had disappeared into. White walls and cupboards, large old oak table, and several chairs greeted his eyes. As well as large bowls of various sorts of foods, which the plump woman went to attend to. 'How can she cook for her family on her birthday?' he wondered. His mother never would have done that. And yet, his mother never had actually cooked many meals. He could only remember her actually doing it twice, but the circumstances were ones that he did not want to recall ever again.

He moved to the screen door that prevented the outside from getting in the house. As nothing else in the house seemed to squeak, this door was no exception. He walked out and came to a stop on the concrete steps that lead down into the backyard. He looked around at the large space, overrun by plants and redheaded individuals. Just looking at it he could hear his mother's cry of disgust, if she had been standing next to him at a time when she could still recognize overrun plants.

That had always been one of Narcissa's pet peeves: a proper garden. She had always insisted that the garden had to look just so, plants trimmed nicely, flowers in rows, the dirt nicely leveled and healthy black in color. It was probably one of the reasons why he still insisted that the house elves take care of the garden in the back, regardless of the fact that no one had walked through it in over five years.

Shaking his head slightly, he tuned his attention to the people outside, tracking down his charge. He spotted her, making her way away from the twins, and two other redheaded males, one of which he recognized as Arthur Weasley, the other the pompous Head Boy he had had to endure in his third year. He watched the older males look after her with concerned looks on their faces, clouded by smiles. Draco wondered if she had seen through them. He had a feeling that she had.

Next she went towards a rather large group of women, all who were seated in lawn chairs under the shade of a huge willow. He could hear their high voices from where he stood and their trills of cheerful greeting as well. Ginny stood with them for a few moments, laughing along with them, then left their group as well. The group of women's collective voices dropped into whispers. He knew what they were suddenly so interested in. By the set of Weasley's shoulders, he suspected she did as well.

His eyes followed her as she then traveled towards a third group of people, consisting of two tall red heads, the shorter and most freckly of which had a pretty brunette hanging off his arm. The tallest one gave her a hug, and then held her at arm's length. Whatever he told her was lost to Draco, but he watched as the other two in the group nodded in agreement. Whatever it was caused Ginny to smile slightly but it did not take long before she was making her way towards the final group. The Dream Team.

She was halfway there, when there was a rustling in the trees beside the woman. She stopped to look at it, peering into the darkness. Draco took several steps forward, making his way down the steps and onto the ground.

"All right guys, you know what to do!" a voice suddenly called from inside the trees. "Attack!"

Draco moved quickly forward, that feeling of panic that he was so familiar with returning. He wasn't quick enough unfortunately as nearly a dozen small bodies came rushing out of the tree, moving quickly towards the red headed woman. Draco came to a halt as he watched them connect with her legs, causing her to yelp in surprise and crash to the ground.

He looked around the yard to see all of the occupants watching with amusement as the children sat on the woman and effectively pinned her, laughing the whole while. He realized that the people were laughing as well, some at their children's antics while others were looking at him: the Protector who couldn't even save his charge from a herd of children. He shrugged it off and strolled towards his charge, grinning slightly as he watched her struggle.

"Help!" Ginny called out, as the kids began to squirm and tickle her, kicking up a huge cloud of limbs and red and multicolored hair. "Someone help me!"

Draco glanced around again, watching as none of the others moved to help her, either continuing to laugh, or turning back to their previous conversations. He had a feeling that this game of jump-the-Weasley was not that uncommon then. To prove his point, one of the twins began to cheer one of his kids on.

He came to a stop a few feet from her, out of range of flying limbs. He leant against a large tree that was beside the bushes and watched her struggle. She was laughing, shrill laughter cause by little, tickling hands, but it was still laughter. And as he stood there, her eyes fell on him and they had a rather desperate look to them that was altogether pathetic. Her cheeks red once more though, as they had been the day before, and they seemed to make her look more alive than ever. The feeling returned.

"Malfoy, help me!" she cried pitifully, letting out a shriek of laughter shortly after.

He knew it was his job to protect her, but he didn't move away from his tree. Instead he just watched her, smirking all the way, causing her to frown up at him. It seemed to him that as her Protector he was supposed to look out for her wellbeing and this tickle attack did not seem to be doing her any harm. If anything he thought it was doing her some good. It was making her seem alive again. Less jaded. His smirk spread, causing her frown to deepen.

"I think you can manage just fine on your own," he drawled at her, waving his hand dismissively from his position against the tree. Her frown turned to a glare, but only for an instant as she let out another shriek of laughter. Apparently the children had found a sensitive spot.

"Some Protector you are!" she hissed shrilly as the kids giggled and shrieked with their own laughter.

Draco watched, realization filtering into his brain. It seemed that in that moment, that moment of watching her and the children, and only that moment that he realized what it was he was truly protecting.

o-o-o

Harry Potter found himself sitting on the Weasley family's swinging swing, watching as his best friends' three children, along with several other Weasley youngins, attacked their red headed aunt. Ginny had always been good with children, which in turn made her good with people as well. Harry had always found it to be one of her most endearing qualities. As he watched her laugh, her lovely skin going red with excitement and motion, he felt a pang of loss, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time.

He hadn't exactly had the time as of late to really think about her brush off, even though it had been over a couple of weeks ago. It had been a numb feeling, a surreal feeling, when it had first happened. Somehow he just knew that they would end up together as they always did, despite the determination that had been in her voice this time round. Then she had had her vision and Harry no longer had time to really stop and think about what he was missing.

After that moment all he had to think about was the fact that Voldemort hadn't died. That the prophecy, the prophecy that so many people trusted their lives and world in, had failed. Had been wrong. That all his efforts and angst that he had endured during his teen years had been in vain. That he had worked so hard to defeat the bastard for good, and yet he had returned as if it were a ten year anniversary or something equally as twisted.

There had then been the business about his heir. He had always wondered how such a powerful individual could not want to create an heir. But it made sense really. If he thought himself invincible, why would he need someone to replace him? He would never die so it was not necessary. So then why had Voldemort gone through all the trouble of having a child? Especially when he had been young. Harry remembered how arrogant Tom Riddle had been when he had met him in the Chamber of Secrets. How sure of himself he had been. How sure he had been that he would live on Ginny's life.

And now that bastard, that want-to-be Dark Lord, was attempting once more to live off the woman's life. Whether it was intentional this time or not was beyond him. All Harry really knew was that the last time Ginny had had to go through all this she had been a complete wreck when it had finally ended. It had taken him ages to try and piece her back together. To get her to stop calling out in her sleep. But he could only do so much. He knew he hadn't done the best of jobs. That much was obvious in the way she acted now. She hadn't made it easy though. She had always resisted. Always tried to prove to everyone that she was strong, stronger than she truly was. And Harry knew that this stubbornness, this irrational ambition to prove herself, would give Malfoy a run for his money. And it worried him.

"Look at him," Ron hissed from the opposite side of Hermione. Harry turned away from his thoughts to stare at his red headed friend. The man was scowling at his sister, or rather, her bodyguard. "The way he stands there you would think that he owned her or something."

Hermione let out an irritated tutting noise. A noise so familiar and comfortable to Harry's ears. He instantly knew that the two of them had been arguing over Ginny's Protector for quite some time. He was slightly surprised that he hadn't heard anything about it until now, seeing as he had seen them almost everyday since the meeting. "Honestly, Ron. He's just doing his job." She frowned up at her husband. "And you know how Ginny is. If he didn't act like that there would be no point of him being there at all."

"I still don't like it," Ron insisted, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, the man had grown up, but he could still be as stubborn as ever. It really did run in the family, now that he thought about it. "Malfoy is still the same slimy git he always was. Why should we trust him with something as important as my sister?"

"He proved himself worthy during the war, Ron, you know that," Hermione responded reasonably, the know-it-ally tone once again surfacing. Harry thought that there would be something seriously wrong with the world if she ever lost that tone.

"Whatever," Ron muttered, his shoulders drooping but his eyes still trained on the blonde across the yard.

Harry began to look as well. He had to admit that what Malfoy had turned into was a far cry from what he had thought he would be when he was younger. But then, Harry had always thought of the boy as a Death Eater in training back at Hogwarts, so even indifference and neutrality was a far cry. He couldn't exactly say that he was happy for the blonde - far be it for a Potter to be happy for a Malfoy - but he could say that he had some grudging respect for him. For him to have taken himself so far away from what his father had initially intended for him to become. Only someone with extreme determination could pull that off. And Malfoy obviously had it.

"It's funny," Hermione's voice drifted into his head. He one again turned from his thoughts to face her. She was staring at Malfoy as well, but with a pensive look rather than the contemptuous one of her husband. "I always had it in my mind that Malfoy would be more of a mercenary than anything else." Harry and Ron both stared at her. "What? He just sort of seems like the sort of person who would play whichever side he wanted as long as he got the most profit for his deed."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Harry offered after a moment's silence. "I never really thought of it before."

"Neither have I," Ron agreed. He turned his frown to the bushy haired woman beside him. "And what are you doing, thinking about Malfoy all the time?"

"I do not think about him all the time," Hermione snapped, and Harry shook his head. He didn't think he would ever quite get over the way the two of them could be so lovey-dovey one moment and turn against each other like wolves the next. He suspected the makeup sex must be really something. He did not just think that.

Harry was spared from listening to further bickering on the part of his two best friends by the backdoor opening. Mrs. Weasley walked out, dishes of all sorts floating in the air behind her. She directed them over to the already set tables, ready to seat seventeen adults and eleven children. It was always amazing how the woman could cook that much food for so many people and not be frazzled by it. He suspected it was just an extension of what she had lived through all her life.

"Children, get off of your aunt," she called, charming the bowls and such onto the table. Cries of "yes grandma!" and coos of "ooh" were heard in response and the children all scrambled off of Ginny, leaving her on the ground.

Everyone slowly made their way towards the tables, grabbing their running children and chatting happily with each other. Harry found himself watching as Ginny straightened herself out, Malfoy watching the entire time. As the man followed her closely to the table, sitting next to her, Harry began to think that perhaps Ron had had a point. Malfoy was acting rather possessive in a way, standing close, glancing around constantly, looking for danger he supposed, but his eyes would always return to Ginny, watching her.

For the entire lunch, Harry found that he couldn't quite pull his eyes away from the two of them. He of course talked to Fred and Ron about Quidditch, and complimented Molly on her wonderful cooking. Signing had also been a requirement, and so had watching Percy's twin daughters wreak their obligatory havoc on their father's meal. Percy had taken it quite well really, taking into account that he was pompous Percy. The twins had really done him some good in forcing him to loosen up. Despite all this entertainment, the cheerful and loving actions of his family, Harry still found himself looking to Ginny and Malfoy.

There was just something off about the way that the blonde sat there, sitting a touch too close to Harry's former girlfriend, that had his brain twitching. 'It's almost as if they were doing... things,' he thought, instantly becoming aghast at what his mind had produced. There was no way that Ginny would ever go that way. Go towards a Malfoy over him. Not that he really had much of a claim on her, but still. She wasn't like that. But, she was under a lot of stress at the moment, he could tell by the set of her shoulders. Could it be possible that she had taken comfort in the other man? Over him?

"Ok, mum," Bill's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention to the end of the table near Arthur Weasley. "We know that you always tell us not to get you anything for your birthday, and as always, we have completely ignored you."

"It was our influence really, mum," George added, his finger's entwined with those of his pretty sand haired fiancé.

"Yup," Fred agreed, grinning. "You can blame it all on us." Harry laughed as Molly rolled her eyes. She didn't take quite as much offense to the twin's antics anymore. But then, they now seemed tame in comparison to the new generation of Weasley scurrying about the place.

"As I always do," Molly grinned, taking a sip of her wine. Percy simply patted her hand, smiling at his mother in a sympathetic manner.

"We all pitched in," Charlie continued, causing all of the Weasley children to nod in agreement. Harry watched as the buff dragon tamer stood up and pulled a long box out of his pocket. He walked over and gave it to his mum, placing a kiss on her cheek then returned to his seat beside his wife. The two were really a match made in heaven. Both so obsessed with training dragons and caring for them that it was nearly comical. Even their children were being trained to appreciate the creature's dangerous beauty.

Everyone proceeded to watch the older woman as she stared rather suspiciously at the package.

"I wrapped it, if that is what you are worried about," Charlie offered with a knowing grin. It was still a prominent story amongst them all of the time when Fred and George had wrapped the present. Harry still grimaced at the details.

"Yeah mum," Bill soothed. "It's safe. Just open it."

Molly gave out a laugh and did just that. The entire table watched as she carefully pulled the wrapping off, placing it beside her plate, and then pulled the elegant looking box open. "Oh my," she gasped, reaching inside and pulling out an intricate pendant resting on a delicate chain.

Harry hadn't actually seen the present beforehand, he had just pitched in his part of the money. It had been quite a bit too, so he knew that the pendant itself was quite expensive. He could tell, however, that it was a fine piece of jewelry, well worth the price, whatever it had been. It was a heart made from fine strips of god, intricately woven until it looked as though there were forests of willows within the shape. Little stones of various colors were placed within the design, placed there with seemingly great deliberation, placing them in the exact spot they seemed to be needed. It could easily have been a tacky item, but this one was far from.

"Their all charmed to match our eye color," Ron explained, watching as his mother stared in wonder at the pendant, the chain dangling over her hand.

"Bill's, Percy's, Ginny's, Harry's," Molly began to say softly, eyes flicking across the stones. She continued until she had named every one of her children and Harry. "You shouldn't have," she said, smiling a smile that seemed so content. She then proceeded to hug every one of her children, placing big kisses on every cheek. Grandchildren and daughters in-laws, soon to be or otherwise, were not spared. Not even Malfoy escaped.

Once Molly had the pendant around her neck, the conversations started. Harry had always loved this the most about large Weasley dinners: the way everyone would talk to each other, and listen as if what they all had to say was important. And there were always several conversations going at once. Today however, seemed to be a touch different. The children had scampered off, taking to torment the garden genomes. On the far end of the table, where Arthur was sitting, was a conversation about the developments of Voldemort's assumed return and the preparations he and the Ministry were taking. On the opposite end with Molly, all were listening quite intently to the new tales of horror Percy's wife, Karen, was unfolding. The woman, being an author, was quite good at capturing an audience.

Harry couldn't be captured though. Somehow he couldn't focus long enough to really listen to the way they had blown the floor out of their bedroom for the third time this month. Nor could he stomach the facts that the other end of the table were discussing. He had been dealing with the very same facts for the last week or so, ever since the meeting, and he was right sick of them. He didn't want to hear about it anymore.

He had taken an indefinite leave from Quidditch until they had found Voldemort's heir. It had been a hard choice, but the reserve Seeker had needed some playing time, and Harry wasn't as heartbroken over his decision as Ron thought he should be. But Quidditch had never been as large of a passion for him after his fifth year. Everything changed after that. He had wanted so much to be an Auror after his fifth year, after his experience with the DA. As the years went on though, as he had to deal with more and more as Voldemort became stronger and stronger, his ambition slowly dwindled. He had seen too much, done too much, to want to do it for the rest of his life. He had needed a break from all that horror. All of the life-saving responsibility. Quidditch was the only direction he could think of that could offer him anything worth while. It was challenging and it was something he was good at.

Ginny caught his eye then as she turned slightly and whispered something into Malfoy's ear. Malfoy, who was engaged in the conversation about the Ministry's actions, nodded curtly. The red headed woman then turned to the rest of the table. "I think I need to get out of the sun," she told everyone. Once Molly had nodded she made her way into the house. Harry's eyes followed her.

He then sighed, giving a similar excuse, heading towards the house. He had a slight hope to get a word with the woman, seeing as he hadn't spoken to her for the entire time she was here. He wanted to find out what was going on with her and Malfoy, if there was anything. Perhaps it really had been his imagination.

"Wait up mate," he heard Ron call, and turned to see Ron and Hermione walking towards him, hand in hand. Maybe he wouldn't get to ask the questions he had wanted to.

"Had enough of what the terrible duo has done?" he asked, grinning at them.

"Well, the first time round was entertaining," Hermione said thoughtfully, as the trio made their way towards the house. "But I already heard this one at lunch yesterday. Repeat performances are never quite the same."

Ron grinned and pulled Hermione closer. Harry held the door open for them, and they walked through with a laugh. Upon entering the kitchen they spotted Ginny looking into the fridge, a dejected slouch to her shoulders that Harry knew all too well.

It was the slouch that she would host when she was upset about something, but it was always a struggle trying to find out what exactly the problem was. More often than not he never found out. It was one of the reasons why he would break up with her so often over the years: he simply couldn't take the way she didn't seem to trust him. He hated days when he would come home and she would be looking like that.

"Gin, are you alright?" Ron asked, slinking his way onto a chair at the kitchen table. Harry watched as Ginny straightened out slightly before turning to face her brother, a slight smile on her face. Harry could tell that it was fake.

"I'm just fine," she replied, a carton of juice in her hands. She closed the fridge, turning her back on the three of them once more as she fetched a glass and poured the last of the carton's contents into it. "I'm just not use to sitting in the sun for so long." She began to wash the carton out in the sink, placing it where the recyclables usually went.

She was keeping herself busy. Yet another habit Harry knew too well. She always kept her hands busy when she didn't want to talk. It was like an excuse, saying that what she was doing had to be done, and what ever he wanted to know could wait. Sometimes she could clean the entire flat in an attempt to avoid answering a question.

When she had turned around again, leaning against the counter, the trio had been seated, all eyes towards her. Harry felt that he was about to interrogate her or something, the way they were all staring at her. He wondered if the other two felt the same way, or if she did.

"Are you sure?" Hermione persisted. "You look awfully pale." Ron seemed to pick up on this at his wife's comment and nodded fervently. Harry noticed it too, but he was used to the woman's unhealthy glow. She rarely ever went in the sun. She had always said it was because she burnt too easily, but he knew there were charms to prevent such occurrences. He knew it was because she simply didn't want to be outside, though as to why was beyond him.

"Maybe you should go lie down or something," Ron suggested, motioning with his freckled hand towards the stairs that would lead her up to her old bedroom.

"I don't need to lie down," Ginny replied, her smile seeming a touch more forced than it should have been. She was slipping up. "I feel just fine. It was just a touch too hot outside."

"You should go outside more," Hermione continued. "Then you won't have this problem." Harry resisted the urge to shut his friend up. Accusing the woman that way would only get her more defensive. But then, the two of them knew that as well, so why were they still doing it?

"I don't have time," Ginny said curtly, the smile slipping ever further. She sipped at her drink. "And what time I do have is hindered by the fact that Malfoy doesn't exactly trust the safety of the outdoors."

"See what I mean?" Ron suddenly hissed. All of them turned to look at him, Harry and Hermione with curiosity and Ginny with a slight frown. "He's controlling her!"

"Who's controlling me?" Ginny demanded, looking steadily more and more defensive.

"Malfoy, that's who," Ron declared, dropping his feet to the floor with a thump. Hermione scowled at him.

"He is not controlling me," the red head spat, drink forgotten in her hand. "He is simply doing his job." Was it just Harry's imagination, or was Ginny defending the man? His thoughts from earlier on resurfaced in his mind. He tried to beat them back down.

"It shouldn't even be his job," Ron growled, frowning now as well.

"Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at the tall red head. She then turned to Ginny, her face softening. "He's just worried about you, Ginny," she soothed, sounding every bit the way a mother should. It was odd to Harry's ears, yet he couldn't say it didn't suit the woman. "He knows it isn't your fault. That none of it is. You were only a child-"

"Only a-" Ginny sputtered, interrupting the older woman. "Are you suggesting that all of this had to with Riddle's diary?" she then demanded, looking all the more furious. Hermione had the misfortune of nodding at this and Harry watched as Ginny released the temper that had been turned on him more than a few times. He cringed inwardly.

"Are you suggesting that all of this." She waved her hand at her surroundings and herself. "Has to do with that stupid diary?" She glared at all three of them, her voice getting louder. "I will have you know that not everything in my life revolves around Tom Riddle. Not everything in my life is connected to that bloody git and Harry needing to save me. I was a child. I got over it. And I certainly do not blame myself for this mess."

Harry stopped. 'Where did that come from?' he wondered, staring at Ginny as her face got ever redder, her breathing more out of control. Yet he couldn't quite help the multiple questions he had always wanted her to answer from running through his head. If it wasn't about Riddle then what was it? Why wouldn't she let them in? Let him in?

"Then why don't you tell us what it all has to do with," Harry found himself saying back, his voice strong, surprising himself. He was also surprised that he had actually voiced the question. He shouldn't have, he knew it. She was upset already, but apparently he couldn't help himself. "Why don't you tell us how we can help you? How we can make your life easier."

"Don't you get it?" she screamed then, slamming her glass down on the counter, shattering it. "There is no way you can help me! And you certainly can't make my life any easier. My life will never be easy and none of your superficial pity will ever change that." With this said Ginny turned on her heel and disappeared out of the kitchen and up the stairs, out of sight.

Ron and Hermione sat in stunned silence while Harry pushed his chair back, moving to get up. She had stormed out on him one too many times for him to simply sit there and let her do it.

"Don't," a voice said from behind them, near the kitchen door. Harry turned to see Malfoy standing there, a commanding look on his face that simply irritated him.

"And who are you to tell me that I shouldn't?" Harry found himself hissing, slipping right back into the animosity they had had in Hogwarts. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been.

"I am the person who is authorized to use whatever force I deem necessary in order to protect that woman from harm," Malfoy sneered, seeming to enjoy the power trip he was currently on though he looked completely professional. Harry resisted the urge to snort. "And you storming up there, demanding more of your idiotic questions will only do just that."

Malfoy then strode forward, towards the stairs, without even a glance back at the table.

"And you think you're going to do an even better job than we will, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, getting to his feet. He most likely would have pulled out his wand if it hadn't been for Hermione's restraining hand.

Malfoy simply shrugged. "I haven't seen her get any worse since I started this job." And with this he disappeared around the corner. The sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.

Ron flopped back into his seat and looked sullenly at the embroidered tablecloth. Harry felt inclined to do the same. That hadn't gone in any way, shape or form near as well as he had thought it would. Actually, it had gone the exact opposite. He had expected her to get a little mad, but not to the extent that she had. And he certainly hadn't been expecting Malfoy to get involved.

"We screwed up, didn't we?" the red head finally muttered, head still hanging. Harry could only bring himself to nod in agreement. That they had. That they really had.

o-o-o

Ginny stood in her bedroom, chest heaving, her mind screaming at herself not to cry. She refused to cry over that. She refused to show the weakness they so blatantly thought she had. Yet why had she over reacted as she did? It wasn't as if they had been doing anything terribly wrong until after she blew up at them. They had just bee trying to help. Rather tactlessly, but still trying to help.

She let out a frustrated sigh and glared at herself in her mirror. Her childish mirror that seemed too pink to be considered anything but a little girl's belonging. The haggard woman glaring back at her seemed to contrast with the whole room, seeming mature and jaded while the room was still childish and innocent. Stuffed animals stared vacantly at her from across the room, resting on the top of her dresser. The aqua walls glinting slightly in the dimming light. She absently wondered how it had gotten so late.

There was a knock at the door, causing her to jump slightly. She turned towards it, fearing who would be on the other side.

"Leave me alone!" she called to whoever it was. If it was really who she thought it was then her words were futile.

"I wish I could, Weasley," a voice drawled to her from the other side. She mentally groaned, shaking her head at even thinking that it wouldn't have been him. Her screwed up knight in shinning armor. "But we both know I can't do that."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she snarled, turning away from the mirror and looking out the window. She could see the sun dipping down behind the large willow trees in the yard. She had always loved her room for this reason. She had always thought that the west side of the property was the prettiest one of all. There was just something mystic about it. Something that was hard to find in a world full of magic.

"Just open the door," he said calmly, his voice traveling through the wood.

"It's not like it's locked or anything," she found herself saying, defeated. It wasn't like she could keep him out forever. He was always trying to get in. It was his job, after all. Or at least he considered it to be.

She watched the reflection in the window to see the door open and him step in. A more considerate person would have glanced in first, but Malfoy was never one to take other people's discomfort into account. She silently watched as he looked around the room, closing the door behind him while he did it. Even without the window she could tell that he was sneering at her simple furniture and pink bed sheets.

"What the hell is this place?" he sneered, stopping in the center of the room, standing on her Herald the Happy Hippogriff floor mat.

Ginny slowly turned around, keeping her face as neutral as possible. It wouldn't do to go scowling at him as well. Well, at least not at the moment anyways. "This is my old bedroom," she replied simply, looking around as well. She had loved the room when she had been younger. It had been her haven. Her only place to escape. It was just a room now.

"That explains a lot," he drawled, smirking at her slightly. Ginny felt the anger she had felt at the trio begin to flare up once more.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy," she asked him, keeping her voice even. "If you've come up here to prove that you are the one who is going to save me, then you can leave right now. You can't do any more than they can. Less I suspect." She frowned slightly at his impassive mask. "So you can just leave and save us both the time."

"No wonder they don't understand you, Weasley," he drawled, looking down at the nails on his left hand, his right securely in his pocket. He made quite an image like that, dressed completely in his customary black against a child's backdrop. "You are either sitting their like the world is going to end and you are all alone or you scream and rave like a lunatic." He paused. "How can you act as if you are the only one there when you are surrounded by so many of them?"

"But I am alone," she found herself whispering, more to herself than to him. She didn't even think that he had heard her, not that she really cared.

She really was alone, now that she thought about it. Even if she was surrounded by all of her family, none of them really understood what it was like to be her. Understood what it felt like to have to live her life the way she did. To always know that at any given moment she could see the death of yet another innocent. See yet another atrocity that she would never forget. She had no one who understood. And none of them could even understand that.

"You're not as alone as you think," Malfoy said in response. Apparently he did hear her whisper. "I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, but this solitary confinement that you are inflicting on yourself is ridiculous. You're only going to make things worse by keeping it all bottled in."

"Oh," Ginny found herself replying dryly. "And I suppose you know all about keeping things bottled in, don't you Malfoy?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to break through the impassiveness on his face. For some reason she had the sudden urge to see hurt in his eyes. To see some of what she felt in someone else. "Mysterious nose bleeds, muttering things in your sleep. If anyone should open up, it's you."

"It's so easy to just pick out someone else's faults, isn't Weasley?" he sneered then. "To simply look at other's issues and ignore your own, using them to try and keep others from finding your own." He narrowed his eyes then, looking suddenly more like a predator than he should have. "You think that you are the most injured person in the world; that no one else could ever suffer near as much as you have. That their issues are petty in comparison to your own and should be used to protect you, because jaded Ginny Weasley is in the room."

"But they can't!" she burst out, startling herself, but not him. It seemed nothing she could do could startle him. "No one else sees everything I have seen. No one else has to feel everything that I have to feel. No one else has to see it over and over in their heads!"

"Perhaps not," Malfoy growled. "But it doesn't mean that other people are not in pain. And not the kind of pain that the Dark Lord inflicts directly. Other people in this world are suffering too Weasley."

"Don't you think I know that?" she demanded, taking a step towards him. The look was still on his face, but she found that it didn't scare her as much as it should have.

"Really?" he asked in response, cocking his head slightly. "Then why do you use your issues to hurt your family? Or is it that you feel that if you have to suffer, then they should have to suffer as well. Because that is exactly what you are doing."

Ginny froze. Was he right? Was she really using her pain to hurt her own family? To make them suffer as she felt that she was suffering? Was she truly that selfish? A deepening dread told her that she was. That she was childish and selfish, pushing them all away so that she wouldn't have to deal with their pity. Wouldn't have to see their caring and concerned face. Wouldn't have to see the way they looked when they thought that they had done something wrong by not being able to help her.

"What the hell do you know?" Ginny spat, not caring really what she was saying. So the git had been right, she wasn't about to confirm this with him. "It's not like you act any different. You always look down on people. You always see yourself as far more than you are. You hurt people so that you can feel better about yourself. You use your power and influence so that you can feel significant."

His mask was beginning to crumble slightly, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a perverse satisfaction at this feat. "But you're nothing more than a spoiled brat who was never denied anything in his sad and pathetic life." She grinned sardonically at him then. "You're no better than your father."

She didn't realize he had moved until she felt her back slam up against the wall, the wind whooshing out of her, his large hand resting between her collarbones. She stared at him wide-eyed, her vision slightly spotty. Perhaps she had hit her head as well.

"I am nothing like my father," he rasped at her, his breath coming out in short pants, his face inches from her own. She looked up into his gray eyes, gasping as she tried to get air back into her lungs. There was something so very cold about them suddenly. Something so furious and angry and all together horrible, that caused Ginny to shiver. Yet as she stared hopelessly into them, finding her limbs unwilling to move, she couldn't help but notice that there was something beneath the anger and the hate.

"I've never seen anything to prove the contrary," she managed, still trying to fill her lungs. Her head was swimming slightly, spots still floating about her eyesight. The heat of his body and his breath on her face wasn't helping matters much either.

"Bull shit," he hissed, his eyes narrowing.

Her eyes went a touch larger, and she opened her mouth to speak. This time no words came out of her lips. Malfoy's eyes widened in sick realization then and he loosened the pressure of his hand on her collarbones and it suddenly became much easier to breathe. She took in deep breaths, trying to make the spots clear.

He turned away from her, and Ginny leant back against the wall, her breathing finally returning to normal. Her heart was still pounding though and her brain couldn't exactly form coherent thoughts. Everything was blank and all that was really going on was that she was standing there and nothing else really mattered. She didn't feel that she could be bothered to move ever again if given the chance.

Yet under this disjointed feeling she could sense something trying to get through to her. Something was screaming at her from under it, but it was muffled. As she stood there silently it began to get louder, brining reality with it. Then she heard it, really heard it: 'You screwed up, Ginny,' she heard her mind say to her. She instantly knew it was right. Pushing herself off the wall, she took a step forward, reaching out for the man in front of her.

"Malfoy," she said quietly, reaching out for his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't," he snapped, jerking his arm out of her grasp. She stared at where her arm had been placed, reality becoming more and more focused. More and more painful.

"I will," she snapped back, grabbing his arm once more, clamping on as if he was the first real thing she had ever touched. "It was wrong of me to say it. I was out of line. I'm sor-" She never quite got the chance to finish her sentence as Malfoy whirled around, driving her into the wall once more.

Ginny's eyes flew wide as he crushed her lips with his own, clutching onto her shoulders with such a painful grip that she could feel her skin bruising. She watched as his eyes slid shut, the disjointed feeling all but gone, replaced by something else. Something new.

Before she really realized what it was that she was doing, she was kissing him back, fighting back against his bruising ministrations. As her eyes slid shut she knew, somewhere in the back of her head she knew, that there was no turning back. Her hands made their way into his hair, and some part of her brain realized that it was softer than she ever expected it to be, but it didn't stop her from gripping it, pulling at it.

Malfoy growled deep in the back of his throat, moving his hands from her arms, up to her neck, pressing himself harder against her. The calloused skin moved up, encircling her neck, and she could not have even dreamt that he could hurt her, for he had deepened the kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth. There was now more to battle with.

Ginny couldn't think. Nothing exactly mattered anymore, or rather, did not factor in anymore. All that was really relevant at the moment was that his lips were on her and his hands had moved into her hair, mimicking the motions of her own hands, kneading and pulling, creating a painful yet exciting shiver to travel through her.

That was all that really mattered. Her family outside, enjoying her mother's birthday party didn't matter. The Dream Team in the kitchen didn't factor in either. Nor did Voldemort and his minions from hell. None of it mattered. It could all just disappear as long as Malfoy stayed.

His right hand shifted then, pressing down into her skin so harshly it was as if he was trying to feel every vessel, every muscle, every bone, as he went along. It traveled down her neck, making it more difficult to breathe than was currently an issue. Passed over her collarbone, past her pounding pulse, towards her heart. It wasn't until he reached the top of her dress that panic kicked in and her hand shot out and stopped him.

"Don't," she gasped, ripping her lips away from his. He simply stared at her, no expression on his face at all. The only way she could tell that he had experienced anything was the dark color of his eyes, the slight blush on his cheeks, the disheveled hair, and his heavy breathing.

She turned her eyes away from his, reality suddenly returning with a vengeance. She felt her eyes go wide once more with realization, realization of what they had done. 'No,' she thought numbly, 'Not Malfoy.'

She slowly realized that she was clutching his hand, driving it into the soft flesh above her heart. She released it as if it had burnt her, feeling something plummet in her stomach. Not wanting to feel the sensation, she placed both hands on Malfoy's chest and tried to shove him away. He didn't move.

"Please," she said, her voice unsteady. "Please just..." but her voice died in her throat. He continued to stare at her blankly and she wondered if he had heard her at all. Just as she was thinking that he hadn't he stepped back, looking away. She stayed there, looking at him. What had just happened?

The thought was instantly washed from her mind though as her head felt like it was splitting. She let out an utterance of surprise, realizing the moment she had dreaded had finally arrived. She had just enough time to grab her head when the rest of it came; washing over her as though the lightning had shot through her once again.

She didn't even hear herself screaming as her vision turned red, images shooting at her. There were flames, people screaming, people falling. She screamed with them. Then everything went white, so white she thought she would go blind. It faded though, as brightness tends to do and then she saw it. The image she had always dreaded to see. The image that she never wanted to face.

It was her father.

Ginny felt herself fall to the ground, feeling like a rag doll tossed aside after a brutal play session. She didn't bother to move as the pain left her, leaving the image it had brought burned into her eyes. If she closed them it simply came into better focus, so she left them opening, staring at nothingness.

"Weasley?" she heard Malfoy asked. There was something in his voice that she could not identify. Did not care to identify. "Weasley!" She felt him shake her body, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It hurt to move. The force of his shaking caused her head to lull to the side and she found that if she focused slightly she could see his eyes, wide with, concern, staring down on her. "Say something."

Ginny blinked, slowly, cringing at what she saw. This blink seemed to speak novels to the blonde, as his strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her up, off the ground. The trip in the air caused her head to spin, but still she did not move. 'No,' she thought dully. 'No...'.

Malfoy placed her down on her childhood bed, and she could hear the springs creak. It had always creaked, for as long as she could remember. She suspected Charlie had jumped on it when it had been his bed.

She felt like she was a spectator at a Muggle movie as Malfoy's head swirled around, his arms, which were still around her, moving her slightly as he looked out the window. She watched as his eyes went wide, not realizing that anything could be more wrong than already was. Her father was going to die.

"Hang on!" Malfoy's voice yelled painfully in her ear. She felt her body being brought into the air once more as Malfoy flung her over the edge of the bed, his body crashing down on top of her. It was at that moment that a blue light, tingling with powerful magic, flashed into existence from the window.

The room erupted into flames.

o-o-o

A/N: Well, there you go. A little D/G action. Now I hope you are all happy and leave me alone forevermore. Ha. Like that will ever happen. Anyhoo, a nice cliffy for you all to enjoy. Now I can finally move onto the chapter that I have been plotting for like a year...

Many thanks to: Hplova4eva, KeeperOfTheMoon(Trust me, it is about to get a lot more depressing. But if you like that, it's a good thing then), iluvminidrew, ebb(Oh, you will find out soon enough...), meena2(Really? I think it's very different from the rest of my stories, I wouldn't say it's the best. But thanks:D), aurora borealis1(Meh, you never know. I am a sucker for happy endings. I didn't just say that...). Lallie(Well, I did claim that I was writing this one for myself. So why not? How has it changed?), rose petel and Queen of Night.