Anywhere but in Between

I only own the plot.

Thank you to all of you for your wonderful words of encouragement. Most of you are as anxious as I am to find out what Draco is up to. Sometimes, what I have planned isn't what the characters feel like doing, so we'll just have to see. That, however, is what this chapter is all about. There some Christmas at the Burrow, but hopefully not much so we can move on to the good stuff.

Thanks again!

Chapter 21 – Darkness Falls

Ron had always loved Christmas at the Burrow. It was by far his mother's favorite holiday, and she always did it up in the grandest way possible. This Christmas, she had pulled out all the stops, and Ron attributed it to the fact that she had everyone she loved back home at last.

The traditional Christmas feast was followed by mounds of gifts and wrapping paper littered the small living room from corner to corner. Amid the sounds of oohs and ahhs from opened presents was spontaneous laughter. Ron's whole body reverberated with the sounds. He couldn't remember feeling this content in a long, long while.

Hermione was cuddled up against his side, her eyes sliding over his family as if trying to memorize them. She was continuously smiling, and when her eyes rested on Harry and Ginny sitting so close the smile broke into a wide grin.

Ron had to admit, he had never seen his sister look so happy. Her eyes were sparkling again, and Ron knew that Harry was the main reason. Harry, himself, had Ron completely stumped. He had gotten so used to his best friend having a constant look of anticipation and restlessness on his face that Ron was pretty sure that nothing could have taken it away.

He was wrong. Harry appeared more calm and peaceful than he'd ever seen him, and it was an amazing sight to behold. Ron felt, for the first time in a long time, that Harry may in fact be digging himself out from under all the pain and anger he'd carried with him for as long as he'd known him.

"Ron, do you want to open your gift now, or wait until later?" Hermione broke into his thoughts. He looked down at the small, flat parcel she was holding in her hands.

"Are you kidding? I've been begging to open it for the last two weeks, haven't I?" he said, grabbing his gift from her. "I'm dying to find out what you got me –"

He quickly tore the paper away from his gift, and his eyes widened when he saw what lay in his hands.

"I know it's not much, but we did have a limit," reminded Hermione, inching closer to his side.

He turned over the two cards in his hands, their light cardboard weight transporting him back to his boyhood days. The old, wizened faces of Ptolemy and Agrippa, the only two wizards he was missing to complete his Wizarding Card set, stared back at him with twinkling eyes. He'd never stopped looking for them, and here they were, all his. The fact that she'd remembered meant more to him than he could express.

"I remembered how much you always wished you'd had a complete set, and I figured that it would be worth something one day," she continued to explain. "It's kind of a juvenile gift, I know, but –"

He cut her off by kissing her flush on the mouth, in front of his entire family. Fred and George whooped jovially, but he didn't care.

"It's the best gift anyone's given me in a long time," he said, after breaking their kiss. "I can't believe you remembered the exact cards I needed."

"I haven't forgotten a thing about you since I met you," she said quietly, her eyes shining into his. He smiled at her, and reached for his own gift to her.

"Well, then, I think you deserve to get this."

She eagerly took the package from him, her brow rising playfully. "It's shaped like a book, feels like a book…I wonder…"

Once the paper had been cleared, she saw that it indeed was a book. Her eyes scanned the cover. "The Most Influential Witches of the Past Century," she read aloud. Turning to him, she smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I love it, thank you," she said, running her hand down the leather cover.

Ron began laughing. "Hermione, do you really think that's it? I just gave you some random book?"

She eyed him suspiciously, then turned her attention back to the book. "Is it magical, or something?" she asked, prodding it with one finger, then opening the front cover to look for special pages.

"Here," he said, taking the book back from her and opening it to a page toward the end of the book. He leaned closer to her so she could look over his shoulder, and her eyes widened to the extent he was worried they'd pop clear out of her head.

On page 752, there was her name, Hermione Jane Granger. The large, bold, fancy cursive practically jumped off the page above a five-page write up of her adventures and accomplishments.

He leaned back to take in her reaction, and saw her eyes grow bright with unshed tears. She turned to face him, and he smiled again at her.

"How on Earth did you know about this?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet amidst the noise of the rest of the room.

"C'mon, if I revealed all my secrets, that'd be no fun now, would it?" he teased, kissing her lightly. "I'm assuming I did good, then?"

She hugged him so tightly around the neck that he was reminded of his mother's bone-crushing embraces. He laughed again and watched as Harry reached for the book.

"That's fantastic, Hermione," he said, a wide grin on his face. "I always knew you'd go down in history."

Ron released himself from Hermione's embrace and reached over to flip the book several pages further. "She's not the only one," he said, pointing at the name at the top of the page.

Harry's grin grew even wider as he tilted the book toward Ginny. "And there you go."

Ginny's eyes grew round like Hermione's had only moments ago, and she gasped when she saw her own name. "No way," she whispered, a look of disbelief on her face.

Ron saw his mother begin to cry as Fred and George grabbed the book from Harry to show her. Hermione and Ginny were now beaming at each other, a look of deep pride and affection evident on each of their faces. Fleur was clapping her hands as George read pieces of Ginny's article out loud, and Angelina was shoving Fred aside for a better look.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly into his ear, after most of the commotion had died down. "That was the most thoughtful present anyone's ever given me."

"Hey, I thought I was all you needed," he said, tweaking her nose with the tip of his finger.

She smiled softly at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes in a familiar gesture. "I love you, big-head."

"I love you, too."

Ginny couldn't remember the last time her family looked so happy. Everyone was now spread out between the living room and kitchen, looking over their various gifts. Ginny and Harry hadn't yet opened each other's gifts, and she had to admit, she was a little reluctant to do so in front of her brothers.

Even though they had been together for a few months, openly, Fred and George were prone to teasing Harry as much as possible whenever they were around him. Bill tended to leave things alone, as did Ron, but Charlie was known to make a few well-worded cautionary messages whenever Harry appeared to be sitting too close or showing too much outward affection toward her. She knew it was mostly in teasing, but she couldn't help feel protective of Harry all the same.

"C'mon, Ginny, you still have one gift left," reminded Charlie now, gesturing to a small box lying at her feet. She glanced down at it, and met Harry's eyes. She was surprised to find him blushing a bit, and her curiosity got the better of her. Forget her brothers, she was dying to know what Harry had gotten her for their first holiday together.

She removed the wrapping from the packaging, and opened the lid. Something bright and shiny sparkled out from the depth of the box, and Ginny cautiously reached in to lift it out. A golden chain draped over her palm delicately, a tiny, brilliantly crafted snitch hanging from the middle.

Her heart stopped completely inside her chest for a very long moment; so much so, that she was finding it difficult to breathe. Harry's blush had deepened, and he turned positively crimson when Fred elbowed him in the ribs.

"One track mind, this one," he said good naturedly. "Once a Quidditch player, always a Quidditch player."

Ginny couldn't stop staring at the delicate jewelry resting in her hand. She knew Fred didn't understand, and he never would. This was something strictly between herself and Harry, and she couldn't believe he would make such a gesture.

She had been just as surprised as he was when she'd told him she loved him over a week ago. Once the words had come out, however, she realized just how much she meant them. And, even though he hadn't said them back, he had shown her in a million little ways since then that he felt the same way. This gift, this precious gift, was absolute proof of exactly that.

As Harry looked toward the floor, Fred and George still teasing him about his athletic choice of present for his new girlfriend, Ginny's mind spiraled back over four years ago.

It had been her sixth year, his seventh, and they had just finished a particularly grueling practice on the pitch. They were walking back to the locker room together, laughing over a play that had gone horribly wrong from beginning to end when a group of fifth year girls came over, giggling their heads off.

Each one of them had taken turns praising him for everything from his flying ability to his dirty Quidditch robes, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were all quite available. Ginny had looked on with utter fascination as Harry gently turned down each girl without them looking the least bit hurt or insulted. In fact, they seemed to like him all the better after the conversation was over.

After the girls had left, Harry had wanted to forget the whole embarrassing ordeal, but Ginny had playfully told him that he was a perfect seeker because he, himself, was so much like a snitch.

"All shiny and elusive, but whomever finally catches it wins the 'famous Harry Potter' himself," she teased, elbowing him in the side. "I can picture it now, dozens of women on broomsticks, flying after you as you appear for a second, then dive out of sight again. All of them reaching out, trying to nab you to end the game."

Harry had pulled a face at her, making her vow to never bring up such a disturbing scenario again.

Ginny was brought back to the present when George tried to take the charm from her hand. She closed her fist around it tightly, knowing that she would never part with it. Harry had made a gesture that spoke volumes to her, and if no one else understood, that was perfectly fine with her.

She had caught the uncatchable snitch.

"I love it," she said softly, ignoring Fred's confused look. Harry's blush slowly went away and he nodded his head, showing that he knew she understood the meaning behind the gift.

"So, what did you get loverboy, huh?" George asked, searching under the tree for Ginny's gift to Harry. "Just tell me it doesn't have to do with sporting events of any kind."

Ginny shook her head, reaching for Harry's present and handing it to him with great care. He unwrapped the long, thin box and lifted the lid carefully. She waited with bated breath as he discovered the leather-bound picture album and opened the front cover.

"I got Lupin to help me out," she explained as Harry's eyes fell on the first page's pictures. Ginny knew that he already had an album from Hagrid, but she'd seen it and there were only a few pictures in it. The sparse few that were there seemed to be from before Harry was born, and the Potters' wedding.

This album was a bit different. Lupin had found several pictures of them from school, and the book was at least twenty pages big. Harry's eyes devoured the photos almost hungrily, and even Fred and George knew that this was something he needed to do on his own without any teasing.

His face was unreadable as he took in the images of his parents waving to him, or looking at each other with love clearly visible in their expressions. A few pages into the album, his hand paused over one picture in particular.

When she leaned closer to see what he was looking at, it was a photograph of his mother, very pregnant, an almost ethereal smile upon her face as she looked down at her husband. His father was on his knees, his hands on either side of his wife's stomach, his cheek resting against their unborn child with his eyes closed in contentment. Lupin had included a note with this picture, explaining that he had taken this one shortly after Lily had began to go into labor, and it had instantly become Ginny's favorite among the bunch.

Harry took his eyes away from the pictures for a moment, finding her gaze on him. "Lupin gave you these?" he asked, his voice thick and deep with emotion. All she could do was simply nod.

The next few photographs were of a newborn Harry nestled in his mother's arms at the hospital. In one, mother and son were both sleeping peacefully, Lily's shining red hair splayed across her pillow as she cradled Harry snugly in her arms. In the one opposite it, Harry was being held like a china doll by his father, an expression of pure amazement on his face as he rocked his son back and forth.

She let Harry look over the rest of the pictures quietly, joining her brother and Hermione on the couch to look at the famous witches book. She had nearly read the entire article on Hermione when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Harry, who said nothing. Instead, he took her hand, pulled her up, and gathered her into his arms.

They didn't speak. His arms held her as tightly to him as he could without hurting her, and they remained like that for a very long time. When they finally parted, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly, before sitting in between Ron and Hermione on the couch to show them the photographs.

Ginny watched as Harry showed his best friends a part of his life that he had never known, and her heart filled with such a surge of love that she was sure it would bring her to her knees. She decided to join her mother in the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need to be close to her.

When she entered the kitchen, she snuck up behind her mother and hugged her around the middle.

"Oh, dear, you startled me," she exclaimed, lacing her own hands on top of Ginny's arms. Ginny only hugged her tighter, burying her head against her mother's back.

"I love you, mum," she said softly, as her mother began to rock on each foot as she had done when Ginny was a little girl.

"I love you too, sweetheart, but what's this about?" her mother replied, turning in her arms to face her. She brushed a strand of hair away from Ginny's eyes, which began to well up despite her intentions.

"I'm just happy, I guess," she said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. Her mother smiled gently at her, and took her face in her hands.

"You know something? That's the best Christmas present you could have ever given me," she said, and Ginny felt that she was finally home, at last.

Much later, after nearly everyone had gone home, Harry pulled Ron aside. "I need to talk to you," he said, "and I don't want Ginny to overhear us."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "You're not going to propose or anything, are you?" he asked incredulously. Harry shot him a look, and Ron sighed. "You know, you shouldn't start conversations like that with the big brother of the girl you're dating."

They made their way upstairs to Ron's old room, and as soon as the door closed behind him, Harry explained his and Ginny's run-in with Draco Malfoy earlier in the week.

Ron sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you let me know before this?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I just put it out of my head as long as possible, trying to convince myself that nothing was going to come of it," he said, sitting in Ron's desk chair. "But I haven't been able to shake this feeling that we haven't heard the last from him."

Ron's eyes grew dark with anger. "If he so much as comes near her, I'll –"

"I know," Harry cut him off. "I just don't think it's going to be that easy. He knows where she works, and he seemed pretty hell bent on getting some sort of revenge for his father."

"Well, my dad and I work at the Ministry, and besides, I don't think Malfoy is that stupid to come after her there," he said, and Harry could see the wheels turning in his head. Ron's training as a profiler had made him astoundingly good at reading people. "He also never acts alone. Remember in school? He didn't do anything unless he had plenty of backup."

Harry considered this. "Do you think he's going to try and gather Voldemort supporters and make a stand again?" he asked, all of the old insecurities and doubts beginning to resurface again.

"I don't see how he could. Most of them are in Azkaban, and a good amount of them died in the war," Ron reasoned. He pushed up off the bed and began pacing. "There can't be many left that didn't expose themselves the first time."

"What about a break in?" Harry asked, looking up sharply. "Azkaban is not impenetrable. If we've learned anything from the past, it has to be that."

Ron shook his head. "After the war, the ministry tripled the security measures and created a branch to oversee the prison itself," he explained. "It's not impenetrable, but it's as damn near close to it as it can possibly get."

Harry sighed heavily in frustration. "I just don't like this. I've felt this way before, and I was always right." He rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses. If Malfoy had a plan, they had to figure out what it was so they could put a stop to it before it began. No one, not one single witch or wizard they knew could handle another war so soon after the last one. People were still rebuilding their lives…

Ron stopped pacing and leaned against the window frame, looking out into the backyard. "It can't happen again, not now," he said, his voice so low that Harry had to strain to hear him. Suddenly, a look unlike he'd never seen before came across Ron's face as he resolutely turned from the window to face Harry.

"When I get back to work tomorrow, I'll keep my ears open for anything. I'll start working up some stuff, maybe let a few guys I trust in my department in on this, just to have more eyes and ears out there," he said.

Harry nodded. He knew what he had to do. Two years ago, after the war had ended and before he had boarded the train away from all he knew, Harry was offered the position of Auror in the ministry. He'd turned it down flat, knowing then that he didn't want to devote his life to fighting evil after watching it claim so many of his friends.

Now, though, he realized how selfish and stupid he had been. Keeping his friends safe was the only thing that was important to him, and if that meant accepting the offer - if it was still available - and fighting the battles that needed to be fought, then so be it.

He told Ron of his plan, and Ron nodded in agreement. "That would give you a level of access to information that not many people have," he said. "I mean, my department's clearance is fairly high, and we meet with them almost daily to exchange information."

He smiled wanly.

"Looks like it's Potty and Weasel at it again, huh?"

There were two people, sitting in almost complete darkness that Christmas day that were neither celebrating nor surrounded by loved ones. As a small fire crackled in the grate of his large manor atop London, Draco watched the embers collide and burn each other up.

"Are you sure that now is the right time to make our move?" he asked, his voice echoing in the cold and empty room.

"Why not?" a voice replied, higher, more demanding than his father's had ever been. "You said yourself that Potter is back, and their side is still extremely weak from the war."

"But so are we," he reasoned, swirling the purple liquid of his goblet around and around. "We cannot sustain any more losses, or the cause itself will be lost."

"Are you afraid of him?" mimicked the voice from the deep shadows, taunting him, prodding him as if he were still a little boy.

"I'm warning you, that's the last you will ever speak of such things!" he spat, coming up out of his chair. He cast his cold eyes into the darkness. He couldn't make out her shape, but he knew that she was grinning in that sickeningly maniacal way of hers. "Harry Potter is nothing more than a lucky boy with powerful friends who protected him his whole life! Besides," he said, forcing himself to calm down as he lowered himself back into his chair in front of the fire, "it's not him I'm concerned with."

"I am."

"I know," he replied, returning his gaze to the fire. "And you can have him. My one concern is my father's murderer and her insipid family."

"So, are you ready to begin, then?" the hollow, high-pitched voice called out to him impatiently.

"Yes," he whispered, the fire reflecting in his silvery eyes.

"Won't they be surprised to find out that I've been alive all this time and right under their noses, kept safe by you, Draco?" she said darkly, then laughing in amusement at the thought.

"Indeed," he drawled, tossing his goblet into the fire and watching it burn. "But I suppose that's the beauty of a secret keeper, my dear cousin." He turned to face her in the dark, and this time, there was a smile on his own face.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, leaning forward so his message was clear.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll tell me, in great detail, what Potter's face looks like in the moment he realizes that he's about to be killed by the person who murdered his beloved godfather."

Bellatrix laughed again, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and enveloping them both as the snow began to fall outside.

Oooh, it was almost as much fun to write the evil parts as it was the fluff…does that make me a bad person? Oh, I don't care, that was a hell of a lot of fun!

As always, my very dear readers, your thoughts and feedback are more than appreciated. It truly keeps this story going…