A/N – This story is always great fun. Thanks for all your support. I have invented an Italian wizarding designer, in lieu of Armani, Versace, and Gucci etc.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don't sue me.

Chapter 7

The paparazzi lay in wait for her as she came through the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" They shouted, jostling and crowding her, shoving magical recording devices in her face. "How does it feel to be back?"

"Is it true you've inherited everything?"

"What will you do now that you've returned?"

Shocked by the unexpected barrage of questions and demands, she froze, wincing automatically as flashbulbs from cameras went off all around her, stunned as the crowd grew and grew.

"What was it like living with Lucius Malfoy?"

"Will you and Harry Potter ever get back together?"

"Will you be going to Mrs. Zabini's charity ball tomorrow night?"

She looked around for any sign of support, her eyes wild –

"Ginny!" someone shouted, a hand reaching out to her from the crowd. "Over here! It's me, Colin!"

She turned towards him with a sigh of purest relief. Grabbing his hand, she allowed him to drag her through the mad, slavering pack, ducking and running until they finally ran into the shelter of the Ministry building.

"Colin," she said, hugging him warmly. "Thank you so much… I don't know where they all came from."

He grinned sardonically. "They've been lying in wait ever since you told the Ministry you were coming back. Everyone wanted to be the first to see you, to hear your story."

"My story?" she grimaced. "What do you mean, my story? I've been out of circulation for – what – nine months? I missed out on the last great battles; you and Harry and everyone else did all that without me."

"Oh, Voldemort," he flicked his hand. "Voldemort is old news. You, on the other hand…"

She gave him a serious look. "I?" Nine months with Lucius, and she had picked up the sometimes unfortunate habit of grammatical correctness. "Colin, what's going on?"

Ginny had known Colin Creevey for more than a decade, since her first year at Hogwarts. He would always tell her the truth, rather than sugar-coated lies. And so she knew that there was something very wrong when he looked at her like that.

"Come on," he said, no longer flippant. "Let's go for a walk."

They walked further into the Ministry, up the stairs heading towards the headquarters of the Auror Corps, where she had once worked. Their footsteps echoed through the corridors, and from time to time she could feel flickers of memory gather – once, she had walked this way with Draco every way, bickering and quarreling companionably.

"Tell me what's going on," she said finally. "Moody told me I could have my job back, but that I'd be riding a desk for the foreseeable future. And what's with all the press? You'd think I'd done something worthwhile, saving the world like Harry –"

"Ginny," he interrupted her, "Ginny, listen."

She stopped. Looked at him.

"Things have changed. Voldemort is gone, most of the Death Eaters have been rounded up – while you've been cooped up in Wales, we've gone through six months of absolute hell." He saw her pale, saw her eyes darken, and held up a staying hand. "No, don't feel guilty, none of us begrudge you your grief. But now that it's over, people are desperate for good news, for happy stories…"

"And my rejoining the world is a happy story?"

"No, but some fool in the government has leaked the details of your inheritance. Just think – a Weasley inheriting the Malfoy fortune! It's fantastic copy. The press had an absolute field day with it, and now everyone wants a piece of you."

They stopped walking, and Colin turned to look at her, his observant eyes taking in her pale skin, her rich, copper hair, and the still-fragile dark eyes. He smiled, reached out and tugged playfully at the sleeves of her robes, warm black ones that Libby had unearthed for her when she'd been packing her trunks to leave.

"Look at this, for example. Where did you get these, Ginny?" he asked, half-seriously.

She looked down, baffled, at her clothes. "The house elves at the Manor produced them. Why? Is there something wrong with them?

"Wrong?" She could see the laughter in his eyes now. "No, there's nothing wrong with them. Is there a rose embroidered on the collar somewhere?"

Frowning now, more than half convinced he was winding her up, she ran a cautious finger over the collar, feeling for the raised sensation of embroidery. "Yes," she said, surprised. Tugging it away from her neck, she looked down at a black rose, embroidered on the black fabric. "Yes, there is. What possible connection is there between –"

"Come on, Gin," he gave up and shook his head. "Don't you recognize genuine Mallorini robes when you're wearing them? Those are the newest fashions, too."

"Mallorini?" she gasped. "But… but Libby said…" She stopped, and thought. When she'd unpacked her clothes at the Burrow, there'd been a number of such unfamiliar outfits – she'd just assumed they were taken from Narcissa's wardrobe. But Narcissa had been shorter, and more ethereal than she was.

"They're not mine," she said desperately. "Lucius snuck them into my wardrobe…" She scowled, her temper rising at the revelation of Lucius' perfidy. "Well, so what if I'm wearing designer robes," she snapped. "It doesn't change me in any way, or affect my ability to do my job."

"No," he said slowly, "but you understand that just one set of these costs almost as much as I make each year. You've inherited an absolute fortune, Ginny. Instantly, you're fashionable, you're newsworthy, and you've lost any anonymity you might ever have had. You're not Ginny Weasley, Auror, any more; you're Draco Malfoy's widow."

"Draco Malfoy's widow?" she said furiously. "Draco Malfoy's widow, who had the good luck to inherit his whole fortune? There was nothing lucky about it."

She paused, looked hard at him. "What else, Colin?"

He flushed, looked away.

"What else?" she demanded. "Why is there such a frenzy? Sure, I can understand the human interest angle, and even the irony, but I'll never be fashionable like Narcissa. The only thing different about me is my money –"

Colin winced.

"My money," she said quietly. "The Malfoy fortune, and a grieving widow…"

Cornered, Colin shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. Casually, extremely casually, he said, "They're laying bets –"

"Bets!"

"It was a joke, at first, among a small group of ex-Slytherins, small players who escaped the Death Eater hunt but don't have any love for the Ministry. But then it spread…"

"Do I look like a weak, spineless biddy?" she shouted. "Do they think I'm so desperate for a man I'll fall straight into the hands of the first one to console me?"

Colin shook his head. Ginny was no weak, spineless innocent. She'd always been an Amazon to Colin, strong, self-confident, and brilliant at Quidditch and holding her own with the boys. But now, there was something a little fragile, a little injured about her – it was like she'd lost her foundation, her centre, and still needed time to recover. She was not back to her best, and she would need to be, to face the furor her money and the media had created.

Now that Ginny was out of mourning and out from under the shadow of her formidable father-in-law, she would be seen her as fair game…

Deliberately dispelling the tension, he turned to face her, grinning. "Come on, you wilting flower – let's discuss it further over lunch. Seeing as you're so rich now, you can shout."

She snorted, punching him in the shoulder as she'd done long ago, when Draco was alive, before things had gone so wrong. For a moment, she remembered what it was to laugh and tease and have fun – and it was good.

Lucius wondered how long it would take the vultures to gather 'round the newly emerged widow. While she was in mourning, closing herself off from the world, the fortune hunters had stayed away. While she was living at Malfoy Manor under his protection – for all it was supposed to be the other way around – they had also stayed away, having a healthy respect for him and his power and influence, greatly diminished though it was.

But now that she had emerged…

Ginny had wanted to return to the real world, the world of struggle and conflict outside the peace and quiet of his world. She had wanted to return to the world where real people lived and fought and died – well, in that world, she, too, would become part of the struggle.

Lucius had had enough of fighting, but he was old, now; he'd seen the world, faced it on his own terms, fought and struggled to make his own place in it – he'd won, and he'd lost, and he'd learned enough to know his limits and his weaknesses as well as his strengths.

Ginny would have to learn her own lessons.

There was a small canteen in the headquarters of the Auror Corps, where they sold terrible food for prices that had made even Draco wince. Ginny and Colin lashed out, buying toasted sandwiches and cups of muggle coffee, and then went to sit down at one of the rickety tables in the corner.

"So let me get this straight," she said, her eyes glowering angrily. "Lucius knew that I would face this kind of reaction –"

"Whoa," Colin said, waving his hands. "Stop, stop. I didn't say that. I can't answer for Malfoy; I've never even met the man. All I'm saying is…"

She waved a hand, wholly dismissing his concerns. "Let me assure you, he knew exactly what he was doing. The bastard always does."

Colin looked at her, surprised. "Ginny? Are you sure he didn't –"

"No, no, he didn't do anything to harm me," she scowled. "But when I told him I was leaving, he didn't say anything about this."

"Did he try to dissuade you?"

"Of course he did. The Ministry won't let him stay at Malfoy Manor unsupervised forever, so he's got to try and get me back."

Colin wondered how she could say that so breezily. If he had Lucius Malfoy on his tail, trying to drag him back to the isolation of Malfoy Manor, he would not be at all blasé.

"No wonder he didn't say anything," she continued. "He knew that I would hate being pursued…" she narrowed her eyes, "but it's not going to work!"

He blinked. "It's not?"

"No," she said grimly. "It's not. I don't care how difficult it becomes; I'm not running back to him with my tail between my legs."

"I'm beginning to wonder about you and Malfoy," Colin said, staring curiously at her. "You seem to have formed a very strange relationship with him…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he faltered, looking at her completely baffled face. "Nothing. Don't worry."

She frowned at him a little suspiciously, but didn't pursue it any further.

"Have you seen Harry yet, Ginny?" he asked, turning the subject.

"Yes," she said slowly, "yes I have. He was at the Burrow when I arrived." Her scowl deepened. "Why does everybody assume that Lucius would lock me up in the attic and put me through all sorts of depraved sexual torture?"

Colin coughed, spewing coffee everywhere. "Christ, Gin!"

Her eyes laughed at him. "I'm serious, Colin. Everyone I've talked to asks me if Lucius harmed me in any way…"

"Right," he said, "that's it. You've spent too long with the Malfoy; you're picking up on their sense of humour. It was bad enough when bloody Draco would do that, and now you're doing it too –" He stopped, put his hand over hers and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm sorry, Gin. He was a good friend. If there's anything you need –"

She smiled at him, turned her hand over and returned the squeeze. "Thank you, Colin."

"I'm serious. We're all here for you – me, Neville, Seamus, Harry, all the old gang. No matter what you're up against, you don't have to face it alone…"

A/N - Don't forget to feed the author! Thank you to all my reviewers. Feedback is greatly appreciated.