Author Notes: I have the next couple of chapters written already – they just need to be proofread and posted, so hopefully, there won't be too much of a wait between chapters.

Chapter Six

May 2006

"Pucey?" Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Tracey is dating Adrian Pucey?"

Ginny bit into a ginger biscuit and nodded. "For years now, actually. And I wouldn't have told you," she said, shooting him a warning look, "except that Adrian will probably get the clear to come out of hiding, soon. Tracey's been working on that, anyway."

Blaise chewed the bread he was eating and swallowed. He waved an indifferent hand. "I knew he was in hiding," he said. "I'd heard some Death Eaters talking about it."

There was something odd about that statement, but it barely registered to Ginny, and she brushed the stray thought away and said, "Well, he'll be happy about it, anyway. To get out of hiding. I don't think he's seen much of the outside world in the past four years."

"But Tracey is so smart," Blaise mused. He didn't seem to have heard her last comment. "So…above him. Pucey's just a low-life thug—"

"He is not," Ginny said, amused. "I mean, all right, he sort of came off that way in school, but he's really not. He's very quiet—"

"Sure, because he's too thick to string a whole sentence together—"

"That's not true either!" Ginny protested, but she couldn't hold back a chuckle. "He's no Goyle. I meant that he's…introspective. I suspect," she said lightly, popping the last of her biscuit into her mouth, "that there are hidden depths to Adrian Pucey which neither of us is aware of."

Blaise snorted. "Not likely."

Nearly a month had passed since Ginny's marriage to Draco, since Ginny had first discovered Blaise alive in Malfoy Manor. And since then, Ginny had snuck by to visit Blaise a couple of times. The first time, she'd only brought him some food and a few copies of the Daily Prophet, and they hadn't talked much, neither of them. Blaise had still behaved very coldly towards her, and she hadn't stayed very long at all. But they'd had something more like a normal conversation the next time she'd come by, as the awkwardness and iciness between them melted away.

They were currently sitting in the kitchen—apparently, Blaise did not consider it wise to venture out into other parts of the manor, and besides, he'd told her, the spell that had set off the Ministry alarms last month, was a spell he'd done to counter the Ministry's detection charms. It only covered the kitchen, but it meant that he could do magic there, if he needed to.

"Anyway," Ginny said, "I can't think of what else there might be to catch you up on. Who else were you friends with? Oh, right—" She nodded, remembering. "Daphne Greengrass. Didn't you date her for a bit?"

"Not really," Blaise said indifferently. "We went to the Yule Ball together. She was the easiest to stand of all Pansy's little friends, because she was far cleverer than she pretended to be."

"Well, I suppose you know she's been missing for years," Ginny told him. "Since Hogsmeade actually, like you. I would say she's probably dead, but then…" She tossed him a quick smile. "You aren't."

"She was always a survivor," Blaise said, leaning back on his stool to stretch his legs out in front of him, "but if there was some reason she needed to go into hiding, I don't know it. She was never involved in either side of the war, really. And her family hasn't been touched, have they?"

"Not that I know of," Ginny admitted. "Anyway…what else? I suppose you've heard Theodore Nott turned out to be a Death Eater, and a total nutter besides."

"Didn't need to hear it," Blaise said darkly. "I've seen him."

"That's right," Ginny said slowly. "Malfoy said he'd been a Death Eater since before the attack on Hogsmeade, so he would've been around when you were…" She trailed off, frowning. She suddenly realized why Blaise's comment about Adrian Pucey had seemed off before. "Hang on," she said, looking up at him. "You said you'd heard from Death Eaters that Adrian was in hiding?"

Blaise nodded.

"But…" She racked her brain, trying to remember what he had told her about the past eight years of his life. "You said the Death Eaters took you at Hogsmeade. And then you escaped and went into hiding."

Blaise nodded again, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"But then, how did you hear about Adrian from Death Eaters? He spied on them for three years, after the battle of Hogsmeade. And then he was caught, and went into hiding. Were you—I mean, I didn't think you'd been held by them thatlong—"

"I wasn't," Blaise said shortly. "Then." His expression had closed off, the way it did when they verged in on something he didn't want to talk about. "It was two years ago, nearly. I told you they caught up to us and killed my mother, remember?"

Ginny nodded solemnly. "Yes, but—you said you got away—"

Blaise looked aside, evading her gaze. "Yeah, well. Only recently. Not six months ago."

Ginny went cold. She thought all the blood must have drained from her face. "But then…they've had you all this time? These past two years?"

Blaise shrugged, still not looking at her. His jaw had gone tense. "Approximately."

Ginny swallowed. She couldn't imagine being held captive that long, by the Death Eaters, and being tortured for information he didn't even know. She wondered that he'd even been kept alive so long.

"Anyway," Blaise said lightly, shrugging uncomfortably, "the Death Eaters I heard talking about him are in Azkaban now, from what I know. So you can tell Pucey he should be free and well to come out of hiding."

"Well, that's good to know," Ginny said, forcing a smile as they moved past the topic of Blaise's capture. "Anyhow, who else from Hogwarts do you want to know about? Have I missed anyone? I don't remember you hanging out with Pansy much, and anyway, she's pretty much exactly the same as she was back in—"

"You haven't mentioned Carina," Blaise said quietly, "I've noticed."

Ginny froze. A little shock coursed through her, and she stared at him, not sure what to say, or how to feel. "But…you must know that she's dead," Ginny said, nearly stumbling over that last word. "Only, you said you know about Will—"

"I know she's dead," Blaise said. "I just wondered how she'd been, since Hogsmeade." Blaise glanced up, but he stared at a point over Ginny's head, looking lost in thought. "Her, I did date."

"You did?" Ginny looked at him sharply. "I never knew that."

Blaise shrugged. "We were both very private people. I'd wanted to take her to the Yule Ball, but someone else asked her before I could. But we started going out later that year. She went with me to Slughorn's party, sixth year."

"But…" Ginny frowned. "You mean you dated her for—what?—two years?"

"We broke up over the summer, before seventh year." Blaise shrugged, and looked at Ginny. He looked faintly amused. "I don't know why you're so surprised, Weasley."

"Well, you never said!" Ginny said defensively. "And—and Carina and I were friends, and she never said…and you knew I was friends with her, and neither of you ever said, when we were dating that year!"

"Like I said, we were private people," Blaise repeated. "We never really advertised our relationship. Anyway, she broke up with me, she was done with me. When her Muggleborn friend died, Brocklehurst. She wanted to take a stance—that's why she joined your little defense group, after all. But I never agreed with that view, so she had done with me."

Ginny shook her head. She felt, irrationally, a little…betrayed. She had never known, and from the sound of it, it had been a fairly serious relationship. It almost would have to be, to have gone on for more than two years. And yet no one had ever said….

But then, was she really offended, or was it just easier to feel that way? Because really, Ginny thought, this made their current situation even stranger…that Blaise had dated Carina for so long, loved her, probably, and she'd ended up having Draco's baby, a baby that Ginny was now raising as her own son.

"Anyway," Blaise said, and though his tone was would-be casual, Ginny thought he sounded a little strained, "what happened to her, after Hogwarts? Only, she never cared much for Draco in school, and I have to say, I find it entirely too weird that she ended up dating him."

Ginny only looked at him for a moment, wondering how much to say. Then, abruptly, she said, "She never really liked him. She was only spying on him, you see. The baby was an accident."

Blaise didn't move, but his eyebrow hitched, and his dark eyes flashed. "She was spying on him?"

"Yes," Ginny whispered, looking down at her hands. "For—for the Order. She was in it."

Silence met her words. When she dared look up again, anger was clear on Blaise's face, etched into every part of him. "She was in the Order?Oh, but of course—" He gave a harsh laugh "—I suppose that was a natural next step, after your little group at Hogwarts, wasn't it? And so your little Order had no problem telling her to sleep with him for information—"

"Don't be stupid," Ginny said, flushing. "No one ordered her to sleep with anyone, she just had to get close to him—"

"Yeah, well, Carina always was a perfectionist," Blaise snapped. "That was her mum's influence, you know. She put so much pressure on her, I always thought she was going to break from it. To be perfect, get perfect marks, have perfect friends. So it's not surprising she'd feel like she'd need to go all the way, to get closeto Malfoy—"

"Don't!" Ginny shot back at him. "Don't talk like that about her! Look, I don't know w-why she—I have no idea what was going through her head, or anything, really, about her relationship with Draco. For all I know, she actually came to like him."

"Like you did," Blaise said bitterly.

Ginny's head snapped up, and she glared at him. "He has changed, you know."

"Please." Blaise held up a hand to stop her. "I don't need a lecture on Malfoy's good qualities." His mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Anyway, it wasn't—it was never about him, for me. At first, I mean," she said quietly. "It was about Carina, actually. And her son. I always felt…" Ginny swallowed. "I felt like we owed it to him. To look after him. Because she had been working for the Order. So when Draco needed help, with him, when he needed protection, for him, I couldn't—" She took a deep breath. "I had to help." She shrugged a shoulder, smiling a little. "And I fell in love with him."

Blaise snorted. "With Draco?"

"With Will," Ginny snapped. "I'm not going to talk about my relationship with Draco to you. It's none of your business."

"So there isa relationship?"

Ginny ignored him. "Anyway, for a long time I was just looking after him…Will, I mean. Draco had hired me. But then, well, he was kidnapped, and it was horrible, and I realized…I realized he was mine. For all that it mattered."

"Yes," Blaise said evenly. "I remember."

Ginny frowned, looking up at him. "Remember what?"

Blaise only looked at her. She couldn't decipher the look in his eyes, whether it was thoughtful or malicious or sad. "When Will was kidnapped," he said abruptly. "They took him to the Riddle House."

"Yes," Ginny said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"I was there, Weasley." Blaise spoke very deliberately, his eyes locked on her. "At the Riddle House. They were holding me there." He sighed. "I remember when they had Will there, and you. In all the to-do, I nearly escaped. I got out of my room, anyway. For a bit."

Ginny stared at him. Something stirred uneasily in the pit of her stomach, as his words sunk in. "Are you saying—" She broke off, her voice going hoarse. She cleared her throat and went on. "Someone unlocked the door to the room they held me in. Someone masked like a Death Eater…"

Blaise only continued to look at her, unflinching.

Ginny drew in a sharp breath. "It was you?"

"I'd taken a dark robe and mask off another Death Eater to blend in," Blaise said, sitting up straight. "And I'd heard where you were being kept. But when I got in the room, no one was there—"

"I hid," Ginny said faintly. "I looked out and only saw a Death Eater, so I hid."

"Well, I might've looked, but I didn't have time," Blaise told her. "I still wanted to get out myself. So I took off—"

"And you got Will," Ginny said swiftly. "Didn't you? You were the one who had him, and handed him over to me. But then, before you could get out—"

"Your stupid husband Stunned me," Blaise groused. He slumped back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest with a scowl.

Ginny shook her head. "But would you have said anything? Taken off your mask? Showed me it was you?" For some reason, Ginny was desperate to know the answer to this.

Blaise shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I was thinking about it. What does it matter, though?" The dark, haunted look returned to his eyes, and he suddenly seemed very old to Ginny, too old. "It wouldn't have changed anything, would it."

It had been decided, after all, that there would be a party, even though the news of Draco's marriage to Ginny had spread pretty quickly on its own, after Ginny had told her parents and the twins. Draco had been hopeful that they'd gotten out of this without any big to-do.

Unfortunately, Ginny's mother, and some of her friends, had continued to push for a party. Draco and Ginny had managed to put it off for a near month. Now, at the end of May, they intended to use the party as part wedding celebration, part birthday celebration for both Will and Draco, whose birthdays were both in the next couple of weeks. Draco's hope now was that the birthdays would throw some of the attention off the marriage. Unfortunately, he thought glumly, there wasn't much chance of that happening.

The party was going to be at the townhouse, and there were far too many people coming, so far as Draco was concerned. Usually, he liked big parties, especially ones that revolved around him. But some of the guests in attendance would be Ginny's family, most of the Order, and other friends of Ginny, who Draco neither knew very well or liked. On his end, the only people coming were Pansy, Pucey, and Davis, and Davis he could only barely include as a friend of his. If it wasn't Ginny he had married, she wouldn't be coming at all.

The party was held throughout the townhouse, and even extended out into the back terrace and garden, since the weather was nice. The large terrace lined the entire back of the wide townhouse and provided some shade, up to the expanse of grass that was the garden, which was as wide as the house but didn't run back very deep. The conservatory, which backed up against the kitchen, ran along the right side of the garden, as it sat on the corner of the street. The doors of the conservatory—which was set up as a tearoom—were flung wide open, so that guests could flitter in and out. The same was done with the back doors, which led from the terrace outside into the large sitting room inside.

On the left side of the sitting room was the library, and those doors had been pulled open wide too, so that guests could wander in at their will. The party was, after all, an excuse to show off the new house, as well as both a wedding and dual birthday celebration. From the sitting room, guests could pass through the open doors into the entrance hall, and through there, into the long dining room on the right. Guests could even go up to the first floor and gather in the large parlor up there, which boasted a small balcony that hung over the back terrace. The rest of the floors were off-limits, as was the study, in the front left of the house on the ground floor.

Given that so few people were fans of Draco and Ginny's relationship, there was a surprisingly large amount of people that turned up to the party. Draco supposed curiosity was responsible for some of that, and that others—mostly Ginny's friends—turned up out of friendship and support for her.

Whatever the reasons, Draco knew he was going to be the odd one out at the party, and had resolved to stick with Ginny through the whole thing. Unfortunately, that plan failed when he spotted Hagrid coming in to greet Ginny in the dining room, and Draco quickly ducked into the kitchen to avoid the big oaf. He was completely alone in the kitchen—there wasn't even a house-elf in there—and Draco contemplated the blissful idea of staying in the kitchen for the duration of the party. But he was sure to be missed after a while, so, glumly, Draco left the kitchen.

He wasn't going to go back out into the dining room, not if Hagrid was still there, so he took the only course left to him and took the back door out of the kitchen, into the conservatory. He edged around the large table which held all the wedding, house-warming, and birthday gifts and peered around the room surreptitiously. Several small tables had been set up about a round table in the center, which held grand silver platters with little tea sandwiches, crumpets, biscuits, and scones, and two large carafes with coffee and hot water for tea. There weren't very many people in the room, and none that Draco recognized, although a few people were eyeing him pointedly.

He had just stepped up to the tea table, deciding it might be a good idea to just have a cup of tea and a biscuit in the corner, when someone he had not seen emerged from one of the tea tables and came up to him. To Draco's horror, it was his old Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall.

"Hello, Draco," she said dryly.

Draco suppressed a grimace and said, as politely as he could manage, "Hello, Professor." He had never liked McGonagall at school—she was a strict teacher—and, what was worse was, the last time he had really come face to face with her was at the end of sixth year, when he'd let the Death Eaters into the school and she had fought against them. He had caught a glimpse of her once at an Order meeting, but that was it.

"Well," she said, "I suppose congratulations are in order." Her mouth was set in a thin line of disapproval, but since he had never seen any other expression on her face, he couldn't be sure if this had anything to do with his marriage to Ginny or not.

"Thank you," he said, wishing he had gotten the words out a little more smoothly.

"And I understand it is your son's birthday." She peered over the edge of her spectacles into the garden outside, perhaps looking for Will, though he'd been with Ginny when Draco had left the dining room. "How old is he?"

"Three," Draco said. "Well, technically it isn't his birthday for another two weeks, but he will be three."

"He'll be going to Hogwarts, of course?" she said sharply.

"Of—of course." Merlin, he was eight years away from that, and where else would he go?

"Well, then I shall look forward to teaching him," she said with a raised eyebrow.

After that, she left out into the garden, much to Draco's relief. He supposed that could have gone worse. He paused at the conservatory doors and looked out into the garden briefly. He saw that Will wasthere, running around in the grass with Victoire and James. Diana was watching all three of them as she chatted to a couple of young women who Draco thought he recognized from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team when he'd been at school.

Several of the Weasleys were outside—he counted at least four redheads—so he bypassed the garden and slipped through the kitchen again. He was relieved to see that Hagrid had disappeared from the dining room, but he didn't see Ginny anywhere, either. A long table packed with food—roast chicken, tureens of soup, sautéed vegetables, warm rolls, gravy and sauce, not to mention a large bowl of pumpkin juice—took up most of the room, and it had gotten quite crowded, so Draco squeezed out into the entrance hall.

He headed up the grand staircase into the parlor on the first floor. There were people out on the balcony, but only a few small groups of people in the room itself. He was momentarily glad to spot Pansy sitting over on the divan, but then he realized she was happily chatting away with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, both of whom had been in Draco's year at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor House. He grappled with this strange sight for a moment—Pansy had been childhood friends with Patil, he knew, but they had hated each other at Hogwarts—and hesitated, wondering if he should chance joining them.

He had just decided to go for it—he couldn't remember ever personallybeing mean to either Brown or Patil at school—but he had only taken two steps when he found his way blocked by two blokes who had just come in from the balcony—Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, two more Gryffindors from his year.

"Hello, Malfoy," Finnigan said. Judging by the look on his face, he was spoiling for a fight, but then, from what Draco could remember of Finnigan in school, that didn't surprise him.

"Hullo," Draco said calmly. Years of living with Ginny and putting up with her family had taught him to at least be civil to people he didn't like, so he managed to keep the sneer off his face. Several different insults sprang to mind, but he suppressed those, too.

"We were wondering if we would run into you here," Finnigan said, speaking in the same brash, cheeky tone of voice.

"Well, it would be likely," Draco drawled, "given that it's my house and my party."

"What're you lurking around up here for, then?" Finnigan countered.

"I'm not lurking," Draco said curtly. He glanced aside at Dean Thomas, who looked torn between amusement and embarrassment. "I was coming to say hello to Pansy," Draco said, nodding towards the gaggle of women, all three of whom were looking at them, "and her, er—friends."

"Seen Ginny about, Malfoy?' Thomas asked, cutting in before Finnigan could say something else.

"No," Draco said. "I mean, she was in the dining room a while ago, but I don't know where she is now."

Thomas nodded and looked like he was going to draw Finnigan away—to look for Ginny, maybe—but Finnigan said loudly, "And the dining room is where, exactly? Only it's a big house, isn't it?'

"Well, I can understand if you think so," Draco snapped. "Bigger than any house you've lived in, I suppose. As it happens, this house isn't even as big as our manor—"

"Brighter, though," Thomas said quietly.

"What?" Draco growled. The sneer he had struggled to suppress was spreading over his face now.

"This house," Dean Thomas said. "It's much brighter than your old manor."

Draco stared at him. He could not ever remember a time in which Dean Thomas had been in Malfoy Manor…had Ginny perhaps had him over once? Given that Thomas was an ex-boyfriend of Ginny's, the thought made his blood boil, and he opened his mouth to say something about it, but Thomas got there first.

"If you're wondering when I've been there," Thomas said, meeting Draco's gaze boldly, "it was eight years ago—you know, when Voldemort had control of the Ministry. A pack of Snatchers caught me and took me to your manor. I was held prisoner there in the cellar."

Draco froze. He suddenly felt awkward beyond belief. He hoped to Merlin he wasn't flushing. Thomas and Finnigan just looked at him, probably pleased at how uncomfortable they'd made him. What was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to apologize? He hadn't even been there, he'd been in hiding that entire year.

He was saved coming up with a response when Pansy suddenly called from across the room, "Draco! Come over here a moment, Parvati was just asking about this vase—isn't it from Spain?"

Deeply grateful to Pansy, Draco spared a jerky nod for Finnigan and Thomas and hurried over to the women. He doubted Parvati had asked after any vase at all, but he eagerly seized on the excuse to get away.

After chatting politely with Pansy, Brown, and Patil, Draco escaped downstairs. He went through the entrance hall into the vast sitting room, where a number of guests lingered, sitting in chairs or congregating around the two crudité tables, which held platters of raw vegetables, as well as a salad bowl and some cutting boards with bread and cheese. Draco had just filled a small plate with some carrots and gruyere when he spotted the Weasley twins coming in from outside. He nearly crashed into a middle-aged witch in his haste to retreat into the library, on the left. The library was not a large room, and its doors stood open to the sitting room, but he managed to squeeze himself into a corner where, he hoped, he could not be seen.

Peering out into the sitting room, however, Draco realized that Ginny was with the twins. They also stopped at the crudité table, near the library doors, close enough that he could hear what they were saying.

"…just trying to find something to be mean about, George," Ginny was saying. She sounded slightly annoyed, but she wore a pleasant enough expression that Draco didn't think she was too put off. "You know perfectly well you would have hated another big wedding."

"My wedding wasn't that big," George protested. "Nor nearly as long and boring as Bill's."

"Yes, it was," Ginny said defensively. "And Mum was just as horrid, too. You just didn't notice because you were drooling over Diana the whole time. Just ask Fred, he agrees with me, don't you, Fred?"

Fred coughed noncommittally, and George shot him a suspicious look.

"You just want something else to complain about Draco," Ginny said. "Which is pointless, anyway, because eloping was all my idea."

"It was?" George sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Ginny said. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, it's just—" Fred frowned "—girls are usually so silly about weddings."

Draco couldn't see Ginny's face now, but she must have sent them a dangerous look, because George quickly said, "You know, I think I'll go see what there's to eat in the dining room."

"Yeah, me too," Fred hastily agreed, and the two of them departed, much to Draco's relief.

He stepped out into the doorway, and when Ginny turned from the table, she saw him. "There you are," she said, coming to join him in the alcove the library provided. "Will's out in the garden with Diana, I've just seen him—what have you been doing?" she asked, sounding a little suspicious.

"Oh, you know," Draco said lightly. He glanced back and seated himself in one of the comfortable armchairs in the library. "Chatting with some old friends."

Now, Ginny looked deeply suspicious. "Like who?"

"Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Dean Thomas, and Sean Finnigan," Draco said casually.

"Seamus Finnigan," Ginny corrected him.

"Whatever."

"What on earth can you have had to talk about with them?' Ginny said bluntly.

"Erm—Quidditch."

"Quidditch," Ginny repeated. She raised an eyebrow, but apparently found this answer acceptable. Draco supposed Quidditch could be a sort of safe, unifying subject, no matter who a person was talking to.

"Well, overall, I suppose this party hasn't been so bad," Ginny confessed. "I think our plan worked, most people have been gushing to me about the house or Will, they haven't mentioned you much."

"Which is sort of disappointing," Draco said glumly, "when you consider that my birthday is sooner than Will's."

"Oh, shut up," Ginny said absently, glancing to her right. Then she groaned. "Oh, no, oh, no, look who it is."

"Who?" Draco craned his neck to look toward the entrance hall, but he didn't get up, and he couldn't really see anyone from his vantage point in the chair.

"My Great-Aunt Muriel," Ginny said miserably. "And I think she's seen us, so it's no good ducking out of here. Look, just…whatever she says to you, just don't be offended, all right?"

"Why?" Draco asked, a little alarmed. "What would she—"

"Put it this way," Ginny said grimly. "I met her in the entrance hall when she got here, and the first thing she said to me was to ask if we'd eloped because I was pregnant."

Draco winced.

A second later, an elderly woman with a cane came across the sitting room, and stumped right up to Ginny and Draco, coming through the library doors. She wore a pink feather hat and had a nose like a great bird.

"There you are, Ginevra," the old woman groused. "Not hiding back here, are you, that's no way to be at your own wedding party. You should be talking with your guests. Budge up, there!" she barked at Draco, who jumped out of his chair as though it had been lit on fire. "I'm a hundred and fifteen, boy, I need to sit down."

Draco hastily stepped in beside Ginny. He was about to offer his hand and summon up his most polite, well-mannered introduction, but he didn't get the chance, because Muriel squinted at him and said, "So! This is him then, is it, Ginevra?"

"This is Draco, yes," Ginny said. She had an odd, frozen smile plastered on her face.

"Well, it's clear you're from a fine aristocratic family," Muriel said, looking him up and down pointedly. Draco would have taken this as a compliment if she had not been scrutinizing him so bluntly. "The Malfoys, isn't it?'

"Yes," Draco said nervously. These days, when people brought up his family, they didn't usually have anything nice to say.

"An old family, yes," Muriel said loudly, and Draco was just beginning to think she wascomplimenting him when she went on to say, "Of course, the Malfoys always thought very highly of themselves, too good for most company! Your great-grandfather was at school with me, you know, several years under me…a spoilt boy, he was always going around with his nose in the air, bullying anyone smaller than him."

Draco felt his smile slip. It didn't help when Ginny snorted in a clear attempt to disguise a laugh.

"Where's the birthday boy, then?" Muriel barked at Draco. "You have a son, don't you? Who's his mother, then?"

"Carina Moon, Aunt Muriel," Ginny answered for him, "but she died in childbirth."

"Moon, did you say? I suppose you know Lillian Moon, then? Is she here?"

"No," Draco said stiffly. "She wasn't invited."

"Good for you," Muriel said, taking Draco by surprise. "She's a piece of work, Lillian."

Unfortunately, Muriel's words turned out to be something of a premonition.

Muriel soon spotted Bill going by and took him to task for his hair being so long, and Draco and Ginny took the opportunity to slip away from her. At the door to the terrace, they ran into Neville Longbottom and another friend of Ginny's from school—the Lovegood girl.

"Hullo, Ginny," the girl said, with a sort of vacant expression on her face. Draco stared at her; she was wearing a bright yellow dress that hurt his eyes to look at. Then he caught Longbottom glaring at him and he returned the look with interest.

"Luna!" Ginny seemed genuinely happy to see her. "I haven't seen you in ages, when did you get back? Luna," Ginny said, turning to address Draco, "has been out traveling the world for the past couple of years!"

Draco nodded mechanically, as though this actually interested him. Not fooled, Ginny rolled her eyes at him and turned back to Luna.

"Oh, I'm just stopping in, really," Lovegood said dreamily. "I'm still on the hunt for a Crumple-Horned Snorcack, they're really difficult to find, you know! But I'm glad I could be here for your party, Ginny. It's very odd though, isn't it," she said pleasantly. "That you two got married?"

"Why do you say that?" Draco demanded. There were, of course, a million reasons why it was odd that Ginny and Draco had married, but Draco's patience was wearing thin. He'd had enough snide comments about him, Ginny, and his family.

"Well, because you were so mean to her at Hogwarts," Lovegood said, turning her wide eyes on him. Draco was taken aback; she spoke quite plainly, as though she didn't realize what she was saying might offend him. "You were mean to everyone, actually. I remember in fourth year," she said, smiling as though recalling a very pleasant memory, "when you and your friends all had us in Umbridge's office, remember? And Ginny cast that great Bat-Bogey Hex on you, and your whole face was covered in giant bogies!"

Draco stared at her in dismay as she began to laugh at the memory. Longbottom joined in, of course, but he was a bit hurt when Ginny did, too.

"You have to admit," Ginny said, gasping for breath, "that wasfunny."

"Not for me, it wasn't," Draco said grumpily. He left the three of them there, still laughing at him.

Draco had been avoiding the garden because it was packed with people, but he hadn't found refuge anywhere else in the house, so he went out onto the terrace. There was a large table there with two massive cakes. One of them was layered, with white icing; it was a "wedding cake" for Draco and Ginny, which Mrs. Weasley had insisted on. The other was a large chocolate cake, which wished Will and Draco happy birthday in elaborate green icing. Both cakes had already been cut into. Draco trumped over and served himself a piece of the birthday cake.

"Wotcher, Draco."

Draco turned, supremely relieved to see Tonks. But he froze when he saw the woman standing next to her.

She looked so like his Aunt Bellatrix that, for a moment—a split-second—he thought she washis Aunt Bellatrix. But then he realized that was ridiculous, and on a second look, he saw there were small differences in their appearances. This woman's hair was a light brown, and she lacked the wild cruelty in Bellatrix's eyes. Still, there was no mistaking who she was, and Draco was not sure if he should be pleased to see her.

Tonks, apparently, saw nothing awkward in the situation. "Draco, this is my mum, Andromeda," she said cheerfully.

"Er—hello," Draco said.

"Hello, Draco," Andromeda said. There was something closed off about her expression, but there was a trace of something like curiosity in her eyes. After looking at him a moment, she offered her hand, which Draco shook.

"Oh, look, Mum, cake," Tonks said enthusiastically. She bounded towards the table, but Andromeda quickly stepped past her.

"I'll cut you a slice, Nymphadora," she said calmly. Draco thought this was a smart move; Tonks and sharp objects couldn't be a good idea.

Andromeda cut a piece of chocolate cake for Tonks, and then a piece of the wedding cake for herself. Tonks, who was usually quite chatty, didn't say anything. She munched happily on her cake, her eyes cutting eagerly between her mother and Draco. Draco wondered what she'd told Andromeda about him.

For a moment, Andromeda didn't say anything either, as she turned to face them with her slice of cake. She only looked at Draco thoughtfully. When she finally spoke, she said diplomatically, "Nymphadora has told me a lot about you, Draco."

At first, Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Then, he heard himself say, "It's a shame we're only just now meeting."

Andromeda looked surprised to hear him say this. For that matter, Draco was surprised to realize he meant it. Because, for all that she had married a Muggleborn—for all that she looked like Bellatrix—she also looked like his mother. Not her coloring, but her eyes—her face—even the way she stood. In fact, the more he looked at her, the less he saw of Bellatrix, and the more he saw of his mum.

Something about that made Draco ache with sadness. Yet he could not stop looking at her.

"Yes," Andromeda—his aunt, Andromeda—said. "It is a shame." She smiled. Draco smiled back tentatively.

"Draco, where's Will at?" Tonks asked suddenly.

"What?" Draco blinked at her. "Oh—he was out in the garden, I think. With Diana."

"I'll just go say hullo, then," Tonks said, and she was off, tripping over one of the terrace steps as she went.

Draco turned his attention back to Andromeda. She was looking him up and down, though she was more discreet about it than Muriel had been. "You look very like him," she said abruptly. "Like your father. Very like him, actually."

Draco swallowed. He wasn't sure, coming from her, that that was a compliment.

But then she smiled again. "But," she said, "you have a bit of Cissy in you, too. In your smile. Of course, Cissy rarely smiled. She was always very concerned with being a proper young lady, and I suppose proper ladies aren't to smile too much."

Draco decided he liked her.

A little while later, after his aunt Andromeda had gone to find Tonks, Draco ran into Charlie Weasley. Feeling that his luck with this party was finally going up, he and Charlie got a couple of cold Butterbeers and went to stand just outside the terrace, in the garden. From here, he could see Will, who was still playing with Victoire and James. Diana was nowhere to be seen, but Bill and Fleur were now watching over the children.

Charlie and Draco were in the midst of a discussion about Quidditch (the Falmouth Falcons were first in the league right now, which Draco was wasting no time bragging about), when they were joined, to Draco's horror, by Fred and George. They were upon them before Draco had seen them, so there was no way for him to escape.

"There you are, Draco, old sport," Fred said, in a voice with much false enthusiasm. "Haven't seen you all afternoon, wot?"

"Draco!" George clapped him on the back so hard he nearly spluttered up his Butterbeer. "Really corking to see you!"

"What're you up to, you two?' Charlie said, looking amused.

"Talking about Quidditch, weren't you?" George said innocently, helping himself to a Butterbeer.

"So what if we were?" Draco scowled.

"Well, we just thought, Draco," Fred said pleasantly, "that seeing as you're family now—"

"—an honorary Weasley, if you will—" George added, grinning viciously.

"—we ought to invite you over to the Burrow to play a spot of Quidditch with us," Fred said. An identical grin had spread over his face. Draco thought he looked a bit manic.

"Sounds like fun," Charlie said. "What do you say, Draco?"

Draco thought that, judging by the devious looks on the twins' faces, they probably had something horrible planned for him. But Charlie was smiling between the three of them, and he couldn't see how he could say no.

"Well," he said, "er—"

"How about," Charlie said, "Draco, Ginny, and me, against you two and Bill?"

So Charlie wasn't as thick as he looked, Draco thought with relief. He allowed himself a bit of a grin, too. "You're on."

Unfortunately, Charlie's addendum hadn't done anything to wipe the smiles off the twins' faces, which made Draco sure that he was still in for something nasty.

"Hello, Draco!"

Draco turned with a sinking feeling. And he'd thought his luck was turning? He now found himself utterly surrounded by Weasleys, as Ginny's mother and father both walked up to join them all. And Ginny was nowhere in sight. He wondered if he could pretend that he thought there was something wrong with Will and run off.

"Hello," Draco said, in a resigned tone, in response to Mrs. Weasley's greeting.

Arthur Weasley grunted something unintelligible, which might have been meant as a hello. His expression was stony, and Draco was momentarily glad that someone else was as miserable at this party as he was.

"We've just been having a chat with Remus and Kingsley in the sitting room," Molly Weasley said, fanning herself a bit. "I must say, this is a verynice house, Draco!"

"Mmm," Draco agreed.

"I haven't seen Will," Molly said. "I'll want to wish him a happy birthday! We left his gift over on the table in the tea room. I do hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will." Then, wanting to show the Weasley men that he could be perfectly courteous and even complimentary, he said, in the most pleasant voice he could muster, "He always enjoys your gifts, very much." He even smiled.

Molly Weasley beamed back at him. For some reason, this made Fred and George glower. Arthur Weasley's expression was halfway between a forced smile and a grimace.

Before anyone could say anything else, a flushed Pansy ran up to them. Draco stared; Pansy had saved him earlier, but he couldn't imagine her braving a crowd of Weasleys to join him now. He saw immediately, however, that she wore a grim expression on her face. "Draco," she said, sounding quite distressed, "you'll never believe who's here." She looked downright worried.

"What do you mean, who?" Draco asked frowning.

"Lillian Moon," Pansy said. She was dancing back and forth on her feet, watching him anxiously.

Draco was sure his face must have drained of all color. "What is shedoing here?' he asked in a low voice, his tone harsh. "How did she even get in?"

"Well, it's not like an Anti-Intruder Jinx would've kept her out," Pansy pointed out. "That only repels people who mean anyone in the house harm."

"Good to know," Fred muttered to George.

"But the house-elves!" Draco snapped. "They should be checking people!"

"I know, but I haven't seen Tasher, he was by the door earlier," Pansy said. "I don't know where he's gone now."

Before Draco could respond, he caught a glimpse of white hair through the doors into the sitting room, and, as an older man moved aside, he saw her—Lillian Moon. Carina's mother, Will's grandmother, though she had never claimed that particular title. Keeping his eyes on the stately woman as she moved through the sitting room, Draco snapped at Pansy, "Go find Ginny. Now."

Pansy nodded and darted off.

"Lillian Moon," Molly said, once Pansy had gone. She sounded uncertain. "But isn't that…Carina's mother?"

"Yes." Draco cast a sharp glance over his shoulder. Will was still playing under the care of Bill and Fleur some ten yards away. He tried to catch Fleur's eye so he could indicate that she keep Will there with her, but she was talking to Bill and didn't see him.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, still sounding confused, "isn't she Will's grandmother? Why shouldn't she be here?"

"Because the Moons have always followed You-Know-Who," Arthur Weasley said. Draco looked at him; he was watching Draco very astutely. "Though as far as I know, there have never been any actual Death Eaters in their family. I'm sure Draco has kept Will at a distance from her, haven't you, Draco?"

"She's never wanted anything to do with him," Draco said tersely. "She told me he was a mistake and the reason her daughter was dead."

Molly Weasley gasped. "But that's just awful! How could she?"

"I'm sure it was easy for her," Draco said bleakly. His eyes were still on Lillian, as she stepped out onto the terrace. She seemed to spot Draco immediately, and she smiled a very cold smile. Then she started towards him.

"Anyway, I haven't even seen her since I got back from France two and a half years ago," Draco said, distracted. "So it hasn't exactly been difficult to keep him away from her. But even if that wasn't her attitude, I wouldn't have been keen for her to be a part of his life."

"I don't blame you," Arthur said grimly. Draco barely had time to glance at Ginny's father in surprise before Lillian Moon stepped up to them, still smiling that icy smile. Her white hair was tied back in a sleek bun, and she wore expensive silk dress robes with lace gloves covering her hands.

"Hullo, Draco," she said. That smile exposed her white teeth like a growling wolf. "What a lovely party you've put on here. I can only assume that the owl carrying my invitation must have got lost somewhere." She gave a tinkling laugh and held out her gloved hand to him in greeting.

When he did not take it, she dropped her hand, and with it, her false smile. "Then again, perhaps not," she said, her voice frosty.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. He tried to keep his voice civil, but he didn't think he was succeeding. "But you haven't ever given me any reason to think you'd wantan invitation."

"Yes, well." Her piercing blue eyes left him and traveled over each of the Weasleys: Charlie, who stood on his left, Arthur and Molly, standing slightly behind him, and the twins, who were lounging again the terrace railing. Her mouth twisted in something like a sneer. "You're right about that. I'm not overlyfond of the company you keep these days, Draco."

Beside him, Charlie stiffened, and the twins straightened suddenly, their eyes flashing.

"If you don't like it," Draco said evenly, "then you can leave. Because thesepeople were actually invited."

It struck him as sort of an afterthought that he was, in a sense, defending the Weasleys. He was thinking about Ginny, really, when he said it, but it couldn't hurt to score a few points with her family, either. And he was, he realized with a start, pretty beyond caring what people like Lillian Moon thought of him.

For a moment, Lillian looked at him flatly. Then she smiled again, displaying those pristine white teeth. The smile, Draco noticed, did not reach her eyes. "Leave? No, I don't think so. Why, I've only just arrived."

"Yes," Draco said, standing his ground, "and you still haven't explained why."

Lillian Moon's blue eyes narrowed. Draco found staring into those eyes unnerving; they were exactly like Carina's, only Carina had never looked at him like that, with such contempt. "I should think that would be obvious," she said, her tone misleadingly light. "This is my grandson's birthday party, is it not?"

"And a wedding party for Draco and Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said bravely, her tone a little indignant.

Lillian spared her a single, cold glance. "That, I do not care about," she said dismissively.

"And you care about Will?" Draco gave a short, ugly laugh. "Yes, because you've made that perfectly clear, haven't you? Only, I recall you insisting you never wanted anything to do with him." He tightened his jaw resolutely. "Well, that's worked out just fine for the past three years. It doesn't need to change now."

"I have allowed you free reign these past few years, Draco," Lillian said sleekly. "But I think that—"

"Free reign?" Draco echoed incredulously. "You haven't allowed me anything, so far as Will is concerned. He's my son."

"And he's my grandson." Lillian's icy gaze left his face and swept over the garden beyond him. Draco didn't turn to look, but he knew when she had caught sight of Will: Her eyes locked on a point behind him. Readjusting her handbag, she took a step forward. "And I think I will see him now."

Draco wasn't sure what he was going to do—he had halfway lifted a hand to reach out and stop her—but there was a flurry of movement on either side of him. To his shock, Draco looked around and saw that the five Weasleys had closed in around him, as though forming ranks beside him, creating a solid wall of redheads to block Lillian Moon's path to Will. George actually had his wand out.

Lillian Moon stepped back, looking absolutely affronted. Her face twitched, as though she were suppressing an ugly sneer. "How dare you," she said, her tone icy. "This is none of your business."

"This is my daughter's house," Molly Weasley said. Her tone was unwavering. "And I don't think she'd like you here."

"And yet I haven't seen her," Lillian snapped.

But then, with perfect timing, Draco spotted a familiar face coming out the sitting room doors, and across the terrace. "Draco?" It was Ginny, looking confused at the scene before her. "What's going on?"

Lillian Moon turned. A moment of alarm flashed across Ginny's face when she saw her, but was quickly replaced with a look of flinty determination. She quickly took in the scene behind Lillian, of Draco standing with her family, and assessed the situation perfectly. "You're not welcome here," she said coolly.

Lillian, at least, seemed to know when she was defeated. She turned to give Draco one last, scathing glance, and then strode past Ginny without another word, back into the house. Draco saw Tasher scurrying after her, and he knew the house-elf would make sure she left.

Ginny blew out a huge breath when Lillian had gone, her hair whipping over her shoulder as she turned to look at Draco. Her expression was utterly baffled as her eyes traveled over her brothers and her parents, all of whom were still standing resolutely beside Draco. "What…happened?" she demanded.

Immediately, the Weasleys around him relaxed. The twins stepped off and returned to their casual poses, leaning against the terrace railing. Charlie took a deep drink of his Butterbeer.

"Lillian Moon," Draco said gravely. "That was her."

"I…I know," Ginny admitted. She looked a bit guilty. "I've met her."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, met her? When?"

"At St. Mungo's," Ginny confessed, "when I'd taken Will in for a check-up. We ran into her on our way out. She seemed to know who I was, and she knew who Will was."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco snapped.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Ginny said, but her tone was determined. "Maybe I should've told you, but I knew you'd react badly, and, well, frankly, she didn't seem the least bit interested in Will. She said—let's see, what was it?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. That he's the 'bastard son of a Malfoy, and the Malfoys are far from the respectable family they once were.'" She shook her head. "She was a piece of work, but she didn't seem, well—a threat."

Draco opened his mouth to berate her again, but he stopped himself, his jaw snapping shut. The fact was, he had always thought the same of Lillian Moon, that she wanted nothing to do with Will. The fact that she was now showing interest terrified him.

He swallowed, trying to shake himself out of the tense anxiety that had stolen over him. He turned from Ginny, and found all the Weasleys there watching him. Arthur Weasley's eyes were narrowed, as though assessing Draco; the twins were watching him surreptitiously out of the corner of their eyes.

A bitter feeling twisted Draco's gut, but he said, abruptly, "Thank you. All—all of you."

"Yes, well," Molly Weasley bustled. "She was rather rude."

"Yeah, we're not going to stand by and let her insult us," Charlie said with a brief smile.

Draco looked sideways at the twins. Fred shrugged uncomfortably, but George merely took a sip of his Butterbeer, looking nonchalant. "Well, we all like Will," he said pointedly. He could not have been clearer; he had not stood up to Lillian Moon for him at all, but only for Will. Draco really didn't care. That he hadstood up for his son was enough.

"It's strange, though, isn't it," Mr. Weasley said thoughtfully. Draco glanced over at him and saw that his gaze had finally left Draco, and drifted towards the sitting room doors, in the direction Lillian had gone. "What did she want?"

"Well, to see her grandson, of course," Molly said uneasily, "though how she could, after being so rude about him before—"

"Yes." Draco frowned. "But why now?" He exchanged a glance with Arthur—a very quick glance, which the two of them broke away from hastily—but he knew Ginny's father was thinking along the same lines he was—what was it now that had gotten Lillian Moon interested in her grandson?

Still trying to settle himself, he looked over at Will, as though to reassure himself that his son was all right. The little boy clearly hadn't noticed anything off at all. He was still playing in circles with James and Victoire, with Bill and Fleur looking on. As Draco watched, Will plucked a blade of grass from the ground and marched up to Victoire with it. As though it were a beautiful rose, he presented it to her, his little face solemn. Victoire, however, was not impressed; she reached out with her little arms and gave him a firm shove. Will fell back on his rear, looking quite stunned.

"Oi!" Draco said indignantly. Beside him, George snorted, and Draco shot him a glare.

Fleur was now taking Victoire to task for shoving Will. But as Draco and George both watched, James marched resolutely over to Will and reached a hand down to help the little boy up. Once Will was on his feet again, James—who was not yet five years old—gave Will a friendly pat on the shoulder. Then he took off running, and, laughing, Will ran off with him. Keeping them in sight, Bill trotted off after them, too.

Bemused, Draco exchanged a glance with George and saw that the twin looked as nonplussed as he did. Probably it was occurring to him, as it was now occurring to Draco, that their sons had somehow become best friends.

"Remind me why we are doing this again?" Ginny said dryly.

Draco opened his eyes innocently. "Because I was invited."

"By the twins."

"Yep." Draco nodded, casting a glance out at the sky overhead.

Ginny sighed and did the same, assessing the conditions. There was a slight wind, but nothing too strong. Otherwise, it was sunny and quite warm in the middle of June, here at the Burrow. Both she and Draco were standing out near the orchard, holding on to their broomsticks.

"You realize," Ginny said, trying to be patient with him, "that the twins probably have something horrible planned for you. I mean, more horrible than the usual Fred-and-George horrible. I mean," she added, a bit desperate, "they really wouldn't be very upset if something happened to kill you."

"Ginny," Draco said flatly. "I'm not an idiot."

Ginny snorted, but didn't tack on the obvious answer. The suspicious glare that Draco sent her, however, told her that he'd heard the unspoken comment.

"Look," Draco said, "I'm well aware the twins only invited me to play Quidditch so that they could do something horrible to me. But, well, they aren't the only ones here, are they? You're here, and Charlie—"

"And Bill," Ginny conceded. Then she frowned. "Though I'm not sure if he would side with me or the twins, when it comes to you."

"—and we got Pucey and Davis here too," Draco pointed out. He nodded towards the two old Slytherins, who were standing off, supposedly discussing tactics. Of course, what this really meant was that Adrian was giving Tracey some last-minute pointers on Quidditch, given that Tracey had only the barest understanding of the game and was only a fair flyer.

"Yes, but still," Ginny said, exasperated.

"And," Draco added, "Fleur is keeping an eye on things too, see?" He pointed towards the blonde woman, who was sitting some ways off with Will and Victoire. She wasn't much of a flyer, but had decided to come out and watch the game with the children.

"But why on earth would you agree to this when you knowthe twins are planning to do something to you?" Ginny burst out. "I would think your usual instincts for self-preservation would have kicked in here," she added crossly.

"Why are you objecting?" Draco countered. "You like playing Quidditch."

"Not when I can't keep track of the Quaffle because I'm so busy keeping an eye on my husband to make sure he doesn't get killed," Ginny grumbled. "And you still haven't answered my question!"

"Ginny," Draco said patiently, "yes, all right, the twins likely have something nasty planned for me. But, if they aren't able to pull it off—" His eyes gleamed with excitement "—then I'll have actually beaten them at Quidditch for once."

Ginny stared at him for a moment. Then she shut her eyes, willing herself not to hex him.

"All set?" Fred said brightly, as he trundled up with their old box, containing a Quaffle and a Snitch. Ginny supposed she should be grateful they weren't playing with Bludgers, at least; there weren't enough of them to include Beaters on each team.

Draco nodded, an oddly pleasant expression on his face. Ginny found it downright disturbing.

The teams assembled as Fred got the playing balls ready. Ginny, Draco, Charlie, and Tracey were playing on one team, with Draco as Seeker, Charlie keeping, and Ginny and Tracey as Chasers. Bill was playing Seeker on the other team, Adrian keeping, and the twins playing Chaser. Ginny was determined to keep the two of them busy enough with the Quaffle so that they wouldn't have a chance to hex Draco, or do whatever they were planning to do.

Once everything was ready, they kicked off. In spite of her concern and suspicion surrounding this "friendly little game," she couldn't help but enjoy the feel of the wind in her hair, the warmth of the sun on her face. She hadn't played Quidditch in ages, and it felt wonderful, to be in the air again, soaring through the sky.

The Quaffle was let out, and for a moment, Ginny forgot about everything else as she zoomed towards it. Tracey wasn't much help as her fellow Chaser, but Ginny didn't mind; she had set Tracey the task of keeping an eye on the twins, instead, since Ginny couldn't really keep track of more than one of them at once.

She spared a quick glance upwards, at Draco, who was above everyone else, circling the field, searching out the Snitch. Bill was doing the same. Content that everyone was all right for now, Ginny went to Fred, who was in possession of the Quaffle, heading towards Charlie to score—

A searing, burning pain laced through her, and Ginny completely lost sight of the Quaffle, of the pitch, of everyone else playing. For a moment, the pain was so powerful that she couldn't even have said where it was coming from; it was her whole body, on fire, bubbling over with heat from the inside out—

And then, as her hands slipped from her broom, as she lost control, she realized—her arm—the Mark—

She didn't even have time to scream. The pain intensified, and as Ginny slipped from her broom and hurtled towards the earth, all she saw was blackness.