Arthur returned with Tonks, the two carrying trays of crystal glasses filled with an amber liquid. "Your father always did favor scotch, Mira, I hope that's okay with you?" Mr. Weasley said with a grin. Mira nodded, taking the glass Tonks handed her.

"So, Mira, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, sitting on the smaller couch across from where Remus, Mira, and Charlie were seated, "How has your summer been?"

Mira looked down in her lap. Mrs. Weasley had meant it as a kind question, she was sure, but how was she supposed to answer? Let's see, my parents die because of Dumbledore, the guy I'm in love with fucks the biggest cow I know, and I cut my wrist so deep it bled for two days straight…

"Mum, you can't just ask her something like that." Charlie said defensively from Mira's side. Mira looked gratefully to him, only to find him staring vibrantly back at her.

"I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean--" Mrs. Weasley began.

"It's okay." Mira assured her. "So far, it's been kind of uncomfortable…I know the Malfoy's mean well, and Lucius has certainly been generous, but I just miss, you know, my house, the way things used to be." Mira was stunned. It was the first time that she could talk about the past, even if it was just in passing like this, without breaking down and needing the razor. She had this sneaking suspicion that the red-headed man next to her had something to do with it.

"I expect it would be, Mira. You must understand that your parents did trust the Malfoys, even if they did work against their side." Mr. Weasley said, bringing the scotch glass to his lips.

Mira laughed. "Worked against their side? Arthur, surely you've one too many drinks? My parents were spies." When everybody in the room nodded, Mira clicked her tongue impatiently and clarified, "For Voldemort. They were on his side, they were Death Eaters."

"Ah," Said Mr. Weasley, "I thought we might run into this problem. Mira, it is time for the truth."

Mira stood, clearly thinking she was being wrong footed. "Come on Arthur, the truth? I've known the truth! My parents would never lie to me, not about something like this."

Arthur was standing now, and Molly stood to join him. "Dear, parents will do many things to protect their children," She began, but Mira cut her off.

"Oh, like lying to me my entire life? Look, we've been to Death Eater meetings, I'm next in line to join them!" Mira cried.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's jaws dropped. "What?" Charlie said from next to her, also jumping up. He stood close to her, almost protectively.

"This is why Dumbledore wanted her here right now." Molly told the group at large, nodding her head knowingly. "He must've known Mira was close to losing herself in You-Know-Who's ranks. Come dear, you don't have to hear anymore or know anything else until tomorrow. How does bed sound?"

"Molly, pushing this away is not going to make it easier for her to accept! She has been lied to by everybody around her, including us! She has to know!" Arthur protested.

This is fucking ridiculous, Mira thought. These people are psychotic. I need to get back to Draco. No sooner had the thoughts of Draco entered her mind then Charlie put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

"Mira," He said, softly, "You need to know the truth." At Charlie's caring, soft tone, at his blue eyes looking so deeply into her vivid green ones, Mira's mind went numb. She nodded, and allowed him to pull her gently back to the couch with him.

Arthur started first. "Your parents, Mira, were at school with Molly and I. Your father, notably, was in Gryffindor. Prefect, top of our class, Head Boy in seventh year…he had a bright, brilliant future. There were many of us rooting him on for the Minister position, you know."

Mira went to stand up again, to tell Mr. Weasley how utterly mistaken he was. Foster, for one, was a Slytherin, just like her mother, and had most certainly not been hankering for the Minister position. But Charlie's arms were still around her, and his hold became tighter as she strained against his muscular arms.

"No," He whispered in her ear, "Just wait." Mira all but melted at his strong, firm voice so close to her.

"Then, in fifth year, when he was a Prefect, he became quite close with another Prefect. From Slytherin, a little blonde beauty named Natasha. Oh, did those two have good times together!" Arthur chuckled at his memories, slowly sipping at his glass. After a moment of complete, stiff silence, his wife nudged him in the ribs. "Yes, well, you see when your mother's parents pulled her from school over Christmas, she came back to Foster with….distressing news."

Here, Mr. Weasley paused to down the rest of his scotch. "She told him how her parents were really Death Eaters, and her family had been Dark wizards for generations, and how after this year at Hogwarts her parents were planning on taking her out of school, to bring her into the innermost circle of You-Know-Who's followers."

Mira was confused, and angry. Here, these people who ran with the man who had brutally murdered her parents, were now telling her that everything she had ever known, from her father's school life and ambitions to her mother's hair color, had been a lie.

"Foster, being the loyal Gryffindor he was, urged her to go to Dumbledore. Finally, with the promise that Foster could get her away from her parents, she went to Dumbledore. She worried she was being weak, for as you know, Slytherin is a house where ambition, dominance, and cold nerve are necessities for acceptance, and your mother, Mira, carried those traits at full length." Mr. Weasley paused again, and took another glass of scotch from the tray he had enchanted to hover alongside the arm of the couch. He seemed to think that continuing with the story, only pausing to allow more alcohol into his system, and not allowing much time for Mira to gather her rampant thoughts and ask the hundreds of questions spilling out of her brain, was the best course.

Hurriedly, he set the glass, now almost empty, back on the tray and rubbed his hands together. "Your mother hated the Dark Arts, Mira. Though she was in Slytherin, and though she had been brought up that way, she never liked it. She turned spy for Dumbledore, against her family, against the Death Eaters, against You-Know-Who. For two years she carried this on, until she and Foster left school, then married. He was brought in as a spy also."

Mira was shaking with confusion. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about." She said flatly to Mr. Weasley, catching Charlie's hold off guard and jumping from the couch, prepared to claw her way out of the room, anything to get away from these people who told naught but nonsense and lies.

The others all stood, and Mira heard faintly behind her as she shut the door on her way out Charlie saying "I'll go. She needs someone her own age."

She didn't know this house, didn't know which doors led where and what stairs would take her down what hallways, but she walked, almost running, only caring about putting some kind of distance between herself and those people.

She heard Charlie's hurrying footsteps behind her. She faintly felt him take her hand in his, and say "Come on, let's go talk." But Mira was sick of talking. Too much talking takes away from the moment, her father had always said.

"Mira." Charlie stopped her from walking, and turned her around to face him. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his gorgeous blue eyes, his face creased in worry. She had never seen a guy look at her like that.

"Charlie those people they were talking about, they aren't, weren't, my parents! I don't think you have the right girl." She said, her stomach sick.

Charlie sighed, then lifted her chin to his eyes with his hand. "Oh, you're the one all right." He said softly, staring into her face.