Hey guys! Here's another update. Thanks for all the support so far!

Ginny was late getting back home from the shop. She'd barely stepped through the front door and shed one shoe before a familiar voice sounded from the lounge. "Ginny? Are you here, dear?"

"Coming!" Ginny called down the hall, kicking off her other trainer quickly and rushing toward the room. "Andromeda!" she greeted the older witch whose face greeted her from the fireplace. She knelt down to better talk to her. "Hi."

"There you are," Andromeda replied, matching her tone.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted to check with you," she answered, her face clouding even through the Floo, "To make sure you still wanted Teddy this weekend. I sent an Owl a bit ago now but I never heard anything back. I didn't want to assume…"

"Sorry," Ginny said, "I stopped by to see George and lost track of time. I just walked in."

"That's quite alright," Andromeda said gently, hesitating some before continuing. "Your mum told me about Harry—I'm so sorry, sweetheart. If there's anything I can do, if Ted's too much right now—"

"No, no," Ginny said firmly, "Teddy's always welcome here. Always."

Andromeda paused. "Are you sure—"

"Yes," she answered quickly, swallowing, "This is hard enough on everyone. I-I don't want to disappoint him."

"Well, dear, that's—"

"Please," Ginny answered, unable to fully keep the quaver from her voice, "I love having him here. We both need normalcy just now. And honestly, I've been looking for ways to distract myself—not that that's what Teddy is, but—I really…" She took a deep breath, frankly not as surprised as she should have been by her sudden emotion, "I'd really rather not be alone. If that's okay."

Andromeda only watched from the fireplace for a moment, a profound sadness in her eyes, before she nodded. "Of course. I'll just round him up then and bring him by in a few minutes."

Ginny nodded, regaining control of herself. "Thank you."

True to her word, Andromeda Flooed over a few minutes later, holding five-year old Teddy firmly by the hand. Ginny stepped out of the kitchen at the sound of their arrival, having just dispatched Andromeda's owl, Dahlia, who, sure enough, had been patiently waiting for her at the window with a letter.

"Hi," she said, walking in with a smile.

"Hi, Ginny!" Teddy piped up, squirming as his grandmother brushed the dust from his clothes and turquois hair.

"Come here, give me a hug," Ginny said, moving toward him. Teddy, grinning, readily complied. "How was school?"

"Good!" he answered, stepping back, "My teacher said I have good writing!"

"That's great!" she responded, "I'm so proud of you!"

"Where's Harry?" he asked abruptly, looking around as if expecting his godfather was hiding and would jump out to surprise him at any moment.

Ginny fought the sinking in her heart. She felt Andromeda's eyes on her. "He's not home yet," she told Teddy.

The boy's face fell. "But you said he would be back by now!"

"I know I did," she said gently, "I'm sorry."

"We were s'posed to go flying."

"I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry." She brushed an unruly strand of hair down on his head.

"Will he be back next week?" Teddy demanded unhappily.

Ginny took a deep breath, carefully schooling her features. "I hope so." Teddy was still pouting. "We can do something else," she told him, "if you don't want to fly with me." It had always been something Harry did with him and Ginny rather hoped Teddy wouldn't want to do it with her. The felt oddly like replacing him and she couldn't. Not yet. "What else do you want to do?"

Teddy turned disappointed eyes on her and seemed to consider it. "Can we get ice cream?" he asked.

Ginny managed a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, sure we can." The five year old smiled and nodded.

"Why don't you take your things to your room, Teddy?" Andromeda put in now, "Show Ginny how strong you're getting."

Teddy looked to his grandmother and nodded. Andromeda produced a shrunken rucksack from the pocket of her robes and, with a wave of her wand, returned it to its regular size before handing it to him. He took it and slipped it onto his back. "Don't leave yet," he told her earnestly.

"I would never leave without saying goodbye, Teddy Bear," Andromeda assured him. "Go on. I'll still be here when you return." Apparently satisfied with her promise, the boy turned and left the women alone in the lounge. Ginny watched him go for a moment before turning her eyes to the older witch. Andromeda reached out and squeezed her forearm consolingly.

"How are you, dear?"

She took a deep breath. "It's hard," she admitted. It wasn't something she'd tell just anyone, but Andromeda had become like family over the past years. She'd lost as much as anyone.

The older witch nodded, understanding plain in her dark eyes. "Have you heard anything at all?"

Ginny shook her head. "Kingsley's been keeping me updated, but no one there seems to know much more than I do. They're still searching, but so far…" She shook her head, swallowing.

"Listen to me," Andromeda said clearly, stepping closer and gripping her lightly by either arm. "You will get through this. No matter what happens. You are strong, and you're not alone, okay? I know how close your family is, I know they only want to help, but I also know how oppressive their concern can feel. So if you need anything at all, I'm here too."

Ginny nodded. "Thank you," she whispered around the lump that had formed in her throat.

Andromeda eyed her contemplatively, as if deciding something. "Come here," she said softly and wrapped Ginny in her arms. Her embrace was quick, but meaningful. Ginny took a deep breath as they stepped apart. "I'm glad you're taking him," Andromeda added now, her eyes on the spot where Teddy had disappeared. "I was dreading having to disappoint him."

"Of course."

"You'll let me know if it's too much though," she gently directed, "Say the word and I'll come get him."

"I'll be okay," Ginny said, "But thank you." She handled Teddy by herself often enough.

Andromeda was saved the need to reply by Teddy who hurried back into the room, his toy wand held aloft. "My wand!" he crowed happily, "You found it! Nan, look!"

Ginny smiled. "You left it here last weekend."

"Thank Ginny for saving it for you," Andromeda instructed.

"Thank you!" Teddy cried, waving the toy aloft. It was charmed to produce colorful sparks at the movement and he was showered in green and blue light.

Andromeda smiled, watching him for a moment before stepping forward. "I'm leaving now, Teddy Bear. Come give me a hug."

Teddy lowered his wand, the toy momentarily forgotten, and moved to comply. "Bye, Nan!"

"You be good for Ginny, okay?"

"I will."

"Alright then," she said, straightening. Her eyes met Ginny's. "Owl if you need anything." Ginny nodded. "I'll see you both Sunday."

Andromeda was gone a moment later and Teddy looked away from the fireplace, unconcerned. "Can we get ice cream now?"

A surprised laugh escaped Ginny's mouth. "I reckon we should eat supper first, don't you?"

"No," he answered reasonably.

She smiled, watching him, and then leaned in to conspiratorially whisper, "I'll tell you what. I don't feel like cooking. How about we go into Muggle London for supper. We can go to that café with the macaroni you like and then get some ice cream after. Sound good?"

Teddy appeared to consider this for a moment. "Can I get two scoops?" he asked very seriously.

Ginny laughed again. "Sure you can."

He smiled. "Okay."

Teddy wandered in around midnight, sleep heavy in his posture and voice. Ginny was awake, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep—and surely nightmares—to claim her. She turned her head at the sound of the door opening and watched the little boy find his way to the bed in the dark. "Ginny," he whispered.

"What is it, Ted?" she asked.

"Can I sleep with you?" She sighed lightly, but not with any real conviction, and smiled a bit. It was something she'd allowed him to do once, when Harry was away and her words alone had not been enough to completely chase away a nightmare's remnants. In the time since, if Harry was out of town, he often asked and she more than often let him in.

"Sure," she said, "Come on up."

Teddy climbed onto the mattress beside her and curled up next to her. He was good and out in minutes. Ginny watched him now, nearly an hour later, and her heart broke a little more.

Growing up, she'd never given much thought to becoming a mother. It had always been one of those things that would happen one day, very far down the line, when she was good and ready. Something she was expected to do and would face when the time came. And she wouldn't deny that the image she carried in her head of that long off day, well before Harry had even showed any sign of interest in her, had included him and a couple of dark haired children running about. But even they were a far off prospect. She was still so young—she couldn't imagine.

But Teddy had been a surprise. From the moment she'd learned of Professor Lupin making Harry his godfather, she'd harbored a tiny hope that one day Harry would make her Teddy's godmother. He had, of course, when he married her, though she wasn't sure she'd truly appreciated what that meant at first.

In many ways, she was already a mum. She and Harry could never replace Remus and Tonks as the little boy's parents, nor would they ever want to, but Ginny was immensely grateful for the opportunity to be his family. She loved the little boy enough that she thought at times her heart might explode from it and she knew Harry adored him even more. Caring for him on the weekends was often the highlight of her week and even as newlyweds, they had never missed a weekend if they could help it. Teddy was theirs, in all the ways that mattered, and they were more than willing to have him. It had been simple fact even before they'd married that any children she and Harry one day had would be siblings of Teddy's, and Ginny had always been excited at the prospect of doing that for him, of adding not only to Harry's family, but to their godson's as well.

She wondered if that would ever happen now. Certainly not if Harry never came home. They'd always waited to pursue starting a family. They'd been too young and too busy, not ready for the responsibility, or to share their relationship with anyone else—they still only had Teddy half the time. Maybe they could have been less careful. Maybe then it wouldn't be just Ginny and Teddy forever, if Harry… if he died.

And Teddy, the poor thing! He'd already lost both parents, and his grandfather. He didn't remember any of them. To lose his godfather too… He was only five—would he remember Harry either?

Ginny took a shaky breath and ran a gentle hand through his thick hair, light brown in sleep—the color his father's had been. "Please come home," she breathed into the dark as a single tear finally broke free and traced its way across her cheek to soak into Harry's pillow, "Don't let him lose you too."

The little boy slept on, ignorant of how drastically his life stood to change yet again. Part of her wanted him to know, felt he deserved to even young as he was. She wondered if she ought to tell him. But what could she possibly say? How could any words of hers ever make what was happening okay, why should she worry him with unknowns? That would be worse—it was worse for her already, the wondering and desperate hoping.

So she would wait. Until she knew for sure, she wouldn't tell Teddy anything at all. He deserved all the blissful ignorance he could get.

The young wizard shifted in his sleep then and his hand fell atop Ginny's upper arm. He did not stir again and it remained there. She watched him sleep for a minute and then, with a quiet sigh, closed her own eyes. The pressure of Teddy's small hand was oddly comforting—a gentle reminder that she was not alone in the dark tonight, and a more painful one that he needed her, especially if Harry never came back.

It was this last thought, more than any other, which finally lulled her to sleep. Ginny felt utterly helpless when it came to her captured husband—she could do nothing but wait and worry, but the same was not true of Teddy. He was young and innocent, and he had suffered enough. She could help him; take care of him, provide for him, and be there. She was not completely helpless when it came to him, and the sense of purpose was encouraging, comforting.

For the first time that night, she felt her muscles relaxing, and, for a few hours at least, Ginny's eyes did not open again.

It hit Ron early the next morning as he lay awake in the flimsy camp bed he'd been allotted, watching, through the dirty window beside him, the beginnings of a watery dawn peaking above the distant horizon. The safe house was quiet with most of its occupants asleep. He suspected the scouting team Goodwin had sent out the night before would be returning any moment now. The rest of the Aurors had worked late into the night and would be back at it again before the sun had fully risen, but for now, it was peaceful, if anything in this wretched place, on this wretched mission, could be considered such.

He was following the path of a water droplet from the recent rainfall—it had since stopped—down the window when the thought occurred to him and he sat up straight in bed. The springs of the mattress squeaked horribly under his weight but the Auror sleeping face first on the other bed in the small room—called Kerring, maybe—did not so much as stir. Which was good, as Ron was currently in a rather compromising position, half-clothed and staring, wide-eyed, at the wall before him as the memory slid into place.

And then he was moving.

The light was on in the tiny kitchen. Ron was, frankly, not all that surprised to find Goodwin sat at the table, papers spread across the entire surface, nursing a strong cup of tea as he poured over them. He approached quickly, heart pounding and unconcerned by the fact that he was not wearing a shirt. Goodwin looked up—and quickly sat up in his chair as Ron threw himself down in the one across from him. "I think I know where he is," he said quickly, giving the slightly older wizard not a second.

Goodwin blinked. "Where?"

"Right over the border. The Muggles call it a tripoint—right where Belarus, Lithuania, and Latvia meet."

"Ron, I told you, we've got patrols—"

"—along the borders, yeah, I got that. Just listen. The—"

"That area is hugely controlled by Muggles," Goodwin interrupted, "Why would Knox go anywhere near there?"

"Exactly for the reasons we think he wouldn't," Ron reasoned, "The Muggle militaries are all over the place there but I'm fairly certain there's a small patch of No Man's Land that the wizards don't patrol well. And with the right spells, even we might have easily missed Knox—I think we did miss him, Harry and I, months ago."

"What are you talking about?"

Ron took a breath and then launched into the story. "Maybe a month before I left the Aurors, we were working on tracking Knox's movements over here. It was a lot of guesswork and false leads—that's why it took so long for this mission to even happen." He was aware he was speaking very quickly, but even if he'd wanted to slow, he wasn't entirely sure he could. "Anyway, there was this one lead we found in Poland and while we were there, this little flicker of activity flared on the map over here for the shortest second. This was back when we thought Knox was still in Austria and there wasn't a trace of the magic we thought we saw when we checked on it, so we chalked it up to a mistake, a trick of the light or something, and moved on. I doubt anyone gave it a second thought until I remembered it just now."

Goodwin just stared at him, clearly tired and unimpressed. "What are you saying?" he asked dully, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm saying I don't think that flash was a trick of the light. I think it was some really well disguised magic—maybe Apparition or something—that we missed. I think its possible Knox has a safe house there somewhere. If it's not that well patrolled by wizards who all think it's the other country's problem, it could be the perfect place to hide out. Muggle-Repelling Charms are easy enough to hide if you know what you're doing and frankly it's a better option than sitting around here reading through the same bloody files for information that isn't there."

Goodwin was quiet for a moment. "Do you have any proof at all to back this up?" he asked.

"What? No, didn't hear what I just said? No one bothered following up on it because we didn't think it was anything. Even if we'd wanted to, Robards would never have sanctioned sending a group after something we doubted even really happened."

"So then what, exactly, makes you believe he'd be okay with doing it now?"

Ron blinked. "Are you kidding? Harry Potter's been captured. We're already here! Send a team over there to look around. What could that possibly hurt?"

"Ron, you know I can't just do that without due cause. Even to have my Aurors poking around the border, I'd have to get clearance from the Minister—"

"So do it."

"—and inform the Lithuanian and Latvian governments so they don't think we're trying to pull anything dodgy. And to do that, we basically have to accuse them of being lax in their border patrol duties. How well do you think that's going to go?"

"I really don't give a—"

"And you have no reason to, because you aren't the one that has to deal with the consequences of anything we do here. I'm trying to get a promotion next year, Ron. I really don't need to be responsible for starting an international incident."

Ron leveled him with a stare. "So you're not going to do anything?"

"I didn't say that. I'll let Robards know, and the Minister. Let them handle the international relations, and once we get the order from them, then we'll move in. We need to do this right."

"And how long will that take?"

"I'll put a rush on it. Hopefully not more than a day."

"Seriously? Do you really not know how much difference a whole day can make to someone who's being held and tortured?"

"Ron—"

"Bring this to the Minister. I guarantee you he'll tell you not to wait for anything. I bloody dare—"

"Weasley," Goodwin interrupted firmly, "Enough. I understand Harry's your best friend, okay? I get that. But you need to stand down. We don't even know if this hunch of yours is correct. We have no proof whatsoever. Believe it or not, I want to find Harry just as much as you do, but we're doing this the right way. Don't make me send you home."

Ron forced himself to remain silent but he was fuming. He'd always thought Goodwin to be a reasonable guy—he'd never won any awards in his book but he'd always thought he'd at least had a good head on his shoulders, solid judgment. Now he wasn't so sure. Where was the sense of urgency? Who cared about protocol and international relations when the life of one of their own was on the line? Certainly not Ron.

Out. He needed to get out before he did something truly stupid. Stiffly and without a word, he turned for the door before remembering he was still without a shirt, and in his haste to inform Goodwin of his revelation this morning he'd left his wand in the bedroom as well. Cursing to himself, he spun for the hallway instead. The other Aurors would be waking soon. Maybe he could get a jog in before breakfast and cool off until he wasn't ready to curse anyone.

"Ron," Goodwin said. Ron held up a furious hand to silence him. It was something his father did, and when he did his children knew it was time to be silent. If he'd been any calmer, Ron might have been startled to find himself replicating the gesture. Goodwin, however, seemed unaffected. "Find proof," he said quietly. Ron stopped walking and turned toward him. The wizard looked as conflicted as he'd ever seen him. Maybe he really did want to find Harry after all. "Due cause. Find me proof and we can go right now."

Ron studied him in silence for a moment before turning and silently continuing from the kitchen. Fine. If that were what it took, he'd find proof. He knew beyond a doubt Knox and his men were at the tripoint. He wasn't sure how exactly, instinct or some divine help or whatever, but he was positive. And no one was perfect. If the Death Eaters were there—and they absolutely were—there would be some sort of evidence to find, some sort of clue he could use, just the smallest hint. Ron would find it. To find Harry, he'd tear down the entire world if he had to.

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