When Draco left Gin's office, he slumped up against the wall and ran his hands through his hair.
Blaise walked up to him. "How'd it go?"
Draco looked up at him blankly, "We didn't yell."
"That's an improvement," Blaise tried to sound encouraging but still sounded a little sarcastic.
Draco rolled his eyes and shoved off the wall. He walked a little way before turning back. "What happened?" he asked genuinely.
"You mean why did she leave?" Blaise asked for clarification. Draco nodded and Blaise looked at him incredulously, "You honestly want me to answer that?"
"And honestly," Draco said firmly.
"You're an arrogant prick that cannot tolerate anyone knowing anything you do not know or being better at anything than you are. You have to keep everyone at least half a step behind you and when you are confronted with an undeniable equal you deny it; you find a way to put them in their place regardless. If anyone stands up for themselves they are challenging you and if anyone stands up to you they have committed the unforgivable sin. You are incapable of admitting that you have feelings, much less expressing them appropriately, and the closer someone gets to you, the more you care about them, the further you push them away, unless of course they play your games. She never has been much for games." He didn't hesitate in his speech at all. It was something he had wanted to say for a long time, but he knew if he said it before Draco was ready it would never be heard.
For once in his life Draco was too tired to reign in the emotion and true dejection was visible in his eyes. "I'm fortunate you are."
Blaise shrugged. "To be honest, Mate, I started playing your games long before I cared."
Draco started walking aimlessly and Blaise followed him. After a few moments, Draco started thinking out loud. "I wonder if she sees it as the same thing."
"Hm?" Blaise asked.
Draco looked up, realizing his friend was still with him. "Oh, her refusing to play my games and my insisting on talking about her family."
Blaise gave a half smile. "I'm certain she does. You pursue a line of conversation you know will cause her pain because you know in the end it will be better for her. She insists on expressing herself in a way she knows you cannot tolerate because she knows that it is the last thing you need. A blind man could see it's the same."
Draco looked at his friend. "Why haven't you ever confronted me about all of this?" It seemed that after thirty-five years, he was finally waking up.
"First of all, she told you all of this in no uncertain terms many times in many ways," Blaise answered seriously, "and second, I knew you'd never hear a word of it before you were ready."
"Is that why you have 'played my games'?" Draco asked a little bitterly.
Blaise actually looked apologetic. "Like I said before, I learned how to navigate your moods before I actually cared. You were convenient and you were trustworthy, not to mention intelligent and worth spending time with, and that was it. I had no emotional attachment to you when I learned your buttons and strings, and I didn't learn to care for anyone until Gin came along. By that time she was already everything you needed and everything you were afraid of. If I had started to stand up to you then, do you really think you would have been able to take it?"
"I'm not sure I can take it now," Draco answered honestly. He turned away again and after a moment he broke the silence with, "FUCK!" Blaise was a little startled. Draco's mind, reeling from all of the emotions of Ginevra's return and all of the revelations she had brought with her, had reached for anything to distract itself and buy enough time to recover and had finally begun to process some of the things she had actually said, having theretofore focused completely on the extent of her pain, the reopening of the hole she left in his own life, and that the former was largely and the latter entirely his own fault. "He threatened her! He fucking threatened her!" he yelled.
Blaise's face was immediately stone cold. "He did what​?" he demanded.
Draco turned and face his friend before giving an account of what had happened as well as her response.
Blaise just stood there for a moment, eyes glassed over in disbelieving anger. Finally, his eyes cleared and he spoke. "I'm sick of this shit." He began to walk toward the school gates.
Draco followed dumbly. He was speechless for two reasons, the first and foremost being his own anger, but only slightly less was the simple fact that Blaise Zabini almost never cursed. Even when riled he remained completely in control and measured his speech, a fact that had quite an effect on most people.
Once they were off school grounds, Draco hurried a couple of steps and grabbed his friend by the shoulder since he didn't actually know where Blaise was headed.
Blaise apparated them to the Ministry of Magic. Entering the phone booth, he informed the female voice of their names and intent, getting them badges that labeled them inquistitors.
Storming through the building, barely pausing to have their wands weighed, they made their way to the Aurors' office. Ignoring all of the strange looks they gathered, they marched back to Ronald Weasley's office.
Draco leaned against the door frame, knowing better than to get in his friend's way. Blaise was a level headed man who rarely lost his temper, but when he did, you got out of his way.
Rolling up his sleeve, Blaise thrust his left arm under Ron's gaze. "Do you see that?" Blaise demanded. "Do you remember what that means?" The dark mark still stood defiantly. All prisoners after the war had had the dark mark burned off of them. All who had been pardoned due to their actions in the last battle had seen the marks mercifully removed, all except for Blaise who wanted to keep his as a reminder of where he had come from.
Ron's face set instantaneously and he opened his mouth to assert his authority, but Blaise wasn't about to let him.
"Do you remember all of the things that I did before your sister found me?" Blaise continued. "Do you remember everything I am guilty of?"
With a voice as cold as stone, Ron answered, "Yes."
"Do you remember why I was pardoned? Specifically, do you remember?" With his eyes flashing as dangerously as they were, it was not surprising that even the head Auror could not break their spell.
"Yes," Ron bit out.
"As I recall," Blaise said, "It was because I saved your sorry ass. Do you fully understand why I was there to do so?" He was at least two inches shorter than Ron, but he seemed to tower over him. "Do you fully realize that without your sister, I would have been there to kill you rather than save you?"
Something in Ron's eyes softened just a bit. "Yes," his voice was a little quieter.
"Now," Blaise said as one who had established his first point, "do you remember how she knew what we needed to do, where we needed to go? Do you remember where she got the information on which she led forty-seven extra hands to your side, not to mention the thirteen centaurs that followed? Do you remember who her source was?"
Ron was angry again. "Snape."
Blaise didn't like the way Ron had said the name. He rounded the desk and removed any psychological protection the obstacle had provided. "Do you remember how much proof he brought with him when he made his case? Do you remember how much proof she found in your own information to support him? Do you remember how hard she fought to convince you of the needed course of action?"
Fear began to creep in at the edges when Ron answered. "Yes."
"Do you remember your reaction? Do you remember what you said? What you did? Do you remember telling her that if she walked out of those doors she would never be welcome again? Do you remember telling her that if she acted on Snape's intelligence she would be considered one of the enemies? That she would forfeit any claim she had to her family?" The bitterness in Blaise's voice was suffocating.
"Yes," Ron answered weakly.
"Do you remember giving the order that your sister be treated as a death eater? That she be arrested or killed on sight? Do you remember publishing her face and her name as those of a traitor? Do you remember cultivating hate and mistrust for your own sister?" Blaise had taken another step forward in his anger.
Ron would have sat down, but he found himself unable to move at all. "Yes."
With a voice somewhat more subdued, Blaise continued. "Do you understand what she sacrificed for you? Do you understand that she laid everything, everything, on the line? That she gave up the one thing that meant the most to her, her family to do what needed to be done? What you should have done?"
Ron's eyes were beginning to burn. "Yes."
"Then why the HELL haven't you spoken to her? Why haven't you sent word to her? Apologized? Something!" Blaise demanded, yelling now.
"I didn't know where she was," Ron answered with a little recovered strength. Had he known...
"Well, she's back, isn't she?" Blaise demanded sarcastically. "She's been around for a week and you haven't so much as acknowledged her! Why weren't you there the second you heard? Why didn't you send an owl, at the very least? It would have been the coward's way out, but it would have been something! Do you honestly expect her to step forward and take the initiative when as far as she knows you still consider her a traitor? Do you honestly expect her to risk reliving, to risk doubling the pain of the first rejection by opening herself up for a second? Where the hell do you get off sitting back here, waiting for her, letting your best friend threaten her into disobeying your own order!" Blaise had Ron pinned to the wall now.
Everyone was outside the office door watching, including quite a few from other departments, but neither of them noticed.
Finally, Blaise had gone to far. He had stepped fully in to the bounds of Ron's hatred of himself, of all the turmoil he had swimming through for the past week. All of the Auror's self loathing now expressed itself.
Shoving Blaise away from him, Ron's eyes flashed. "I do not expect her to step forward and cover my responsibility! I do not expect her risk anything by approaching me or anyone else in our family! I have not sent an owl because I believe she deserves better! She deserves a full apology in person! It was my fault! I was the one who convinced the others of what we should do, how we should treat her. I was the one who made the decision to disown her. I should be the one to face her. Everyone in my family has offered to go in my place, everyone! Including my wife! Including my children! But I can NOT let them go in my place because it is my responsibility!" He stopped yelling and sank into his chair. Almost whispering, he finished, "I'm simply too afraid."
He looked up at Blaise with eyes full of remorse. "I'm not afraid she will refuse me or reject my apology. I finally know her better than that. No, I'm afraid to face the pain that I have caused. I am afraid to look her in eye and see everything I should have been, all the ways I failed. It's selfish, I know, I'm afraid to see myself reflected in her eyes, in her good, forgiving eyes." He looked down at his hands. "She's fortunate to have friends like you. You care for her and protect her the way I should have."
Blaise just stood there, watching him. Now that his anger was spent, he didn't know what to do. He had never in his life lost his temper like that and had no idea how to recover.
Draco was honestly impressed and his confidence in the Auror department grew exponentially. He honestly found respect for a man he had he despised since their first year of school, well...before, actually.
After a moment of silence, Ron looked back up at Blaise in confusion. "What do you mean my best friend threatened her into coming home?"