Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

96. Chapter 96 - The Gala

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 96 is here! The Gala continues!

Please Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

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Fate

Chapter 96 - The Gala

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Late Evening)

"Do me a favor, and fetch the Headmaster," Ron told the waiter, who gave Ron a confused look.

They were currently making their way down to the Greeting Room, and Ron wanted to make an impression with the French Families right out of the gate. They need to understand that my age means nothing, and that I have powerful friends behind me. Two Headmasters of esteemed Magical Schools, and the British Minister for Magic to boot.

"The Minister asked only for you, Sir," the waiter said.

"And I'm asking you to fetch Albus Dumbledore," Ron said a bit too firmly. "The French will appreciate the gesture." The waiter looked a bit reluctant in disobeying the Minister, and Ron resisted the urge to berate him. "Think about it this way… The Greatest Wizard alive comes down to greet you at the door with a smile on his face, while the other guests throw you contemptuous looks. Which of the two things would you remember at the end of the night?"

"The Headmaster…" the waiter replied slowly, and Ron nodded. "I will go and find him, Sir." Good. Let Harry have some alone time with Horace, who is no doubt giving Harry some valuable information about his parents.

As the waiter departed in order to do as he was told, Ron overheard a displeased couple talking about the 'filthy Frenchman'.

"They have no right to be here," the man hissed, and Ron subtly looked him over. I think that's Thorfinn Rowle… Didn't he claim to be under the Imperius Curse at the end of the last war? I swear I read that somewhere during my research. "Fucking Half-Breeds in the Minister's very home, Agatha. Can you believe this?"

"Hush, love," the woman named Agatha, who Ron assumed to be Thorfinn's wife, said. "Let's just stay away from them. We can't be the ones to start a scene at such an event. Let's just find Lucius and Narcissa, and they can do something about this. Lucius has the Minister's ear." Ha! Good luck with that.

Ron made his way into the Greeting Room, and he was immediately spotted by the Minister, who walked over with a quickened pace.

"It's good that you are here," the Minister said, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I expected some form of animosity between the French and us, but things are spiraling out of control far too quickly."

Ron looked around the room, and he could smell the discontent of the Old British Families.

"Keep your nerve, Minister," Ron smiled at the portly man. "No one said that this was going to be easy. The French have promised Madame Maxime that they will behave, remember? We just need to keep the British from making a scene." People like the Rowle Family.

"Come, let's get them inside," the Minister said, but Ron stopped him.

"Not yet," Ron said, earning a confused look from the Minister. "I've asked a waiter to bring Headmaster Dumbledore here."

"Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, he didn't sound too pleased about that. "You and I are more than enough, I'd say." Is he comparing us to Dumbledore? Is he mental? No… He's grown far too arrogant because of his position, and his expensive Manor.

"The Headmaster is an old friend of Madame Maxime, and he is respected all over the Magical World," Ron said. "The French will appreciate the gesture, don't you think? Especially considering the reception that they're getting at the moment."

The Ministry stared at Ron, and then he nodded weakly to himself.

"One more happy face couldn't hurt, especially in the current climate," Fudge realized, and Ron nodded.

"This is your home, Minister, and they will no doubt speak of your hospitality to the other French Families," Ron said. "So we have to do this right, no matter what."

Ron then looked back to the French Families, and he could see Madame Maxime towering above everyone. Oddly enough, seeing her made Ron feel far more at ease. I'm not alone in this, I need to remember that. She's got my back, and I have hers.

"I will go over and introduce myself," Ron said to the Minister. "Join us once Headmaster Dumbledore shows up." I'd rather him talk to them instead of you.

"A united front," Fudge spoke to himself, but Ron ignored the man.

Without another word, Ron navigated past the confused and annoyed British guests, and Madame Maxime's black, liquid-like eyes landed on him. Ron shot her a pleasant smile, one that she returned immediately. All of our work is going to pay off tonight.

"Madame Maxime," Ron greeted with a wide smile, and she put her hand forward.

"Ronald, my young friend," she greeted back, while Ron kissed her knuckles. I think I'll steal Theo's line in order to appear more charming.

"Look at you," Ron said as looked her over, she was wearing a lovely black gown with opal jewelry. "Aphrodite herself would be jealous of you." And he sticks the landing.

"You are too kind," she laughed, she sounded quite pleased with his words. "You yourself look very handsome, if I might so say. I respect that you are wearing a suit instead of Wizarding Robes, it highlights your physique very nicely."

Ron gave her a polite nod, and then he looked to the French Families behind her. Most of the women are fair, with long, silver-blonde hair. Veelas.

"Is everyone here?" Ron asked Madame Maxime.

"We are still waiting for Gabriel and Pauline Bisset, and Emilia Travers," Madame Maxime replied. "Come, I'll introduce you to the others. Many of them are dying to meet you."

"Are they?" Ron chuckled as he began following her.

"Many of them wish to test the legend of Le fléau de Vélane," Madame Maxime replied, and Ron gave her a meaningful look. "Don't worry, they have given me their word. They will all behave, even the younger ones."

"The younger ones?" Ron asked.

"The Ancar, Beaumont, Couture, Delacour, and Lenoir Families have brought their eldest daughters," Madame Maxime replied. "They are young, but they will obey their parents' commands."

"I trust you," Ron said, and she gave him a grateful smile.

As they neared the French Families, who were all speaking to Madam Bones, Ron eyed the younger Veelas. There's Fleur Delacour, and she looks quite amazing, despite her bored demeanor. From just looking them over, Ron figured that Fleur was the youngest Veela in attendance. She's tried her allure on me multiple times, which isn't a good sign. If she tries it tonight, I'll have to tell Madame Maxime immediately.

"Once again, the British Ministry cannot thank you enough for your contributions to our worthy cause," Madam Bones was saying, and both Madame Maxime and Ron stopped behind her.

The French immediately turned their gazes to him, with most of them looking him over critically. Every single French witch smiled at him, and Ron smiled back as pleasantly as he could. Careful, Ron, remember what Amanda told you. Some of these Veelas are threatened by your ability to resist them.

"Ah, Ronald," Madam Bones looked back at him.

"Madam Bones," Ron gave her a polite nod, and she looked back to the French.

"Please, enjoy the Gala, and should you need anything, find either Mr. Weasley or myself," Madam Bones said. "I hope to speak to you all individually as the night progresses."

With that, Madam Bones left in the direction of her Aurors, who were all watching the French with sharp gazes. Is that Tonks? It is. And Madam Roberts too.

"My esteemed friends," Madame Maxime stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce you all to Ronald Bilius Weasley, my partner in this endeavor. It was Ronald who set this whole thing in motion, so please, treat him as if he were one of our own."

"Monsieur Weasley, it is an honor to finally meet you," one of the men stepped forward in order to shake his hand, and Ron tried to remember his name. C'mon, Ron… You spent all week putting their names to their faces. Think.

"My Lord Abadie," Ron smiled as he shook the man's hand, and Lord Abadie smiled in a pleased manner. "Welcome to Britain, we are honored to host you tonight."

"And we thank you for your hospitality," Lord Abadie said, while his wife walked up to his side. "This is my wife, Poppy Abadie."

"A pleasure," she smiled at Ron, her age did nothing to hinder her Veela beauty.

"Poppy, a beautiful flower," Ron smiled back, and then he kissed her knuckles. "A fitting name if I've ever seen one."

Ron couldn't help but notice that the French were almost lining up, and he figured that he was going to meet them all one by one. You prepared for this, Ron. Just remember Theo and Pansy's teachings. My focus tonight needs to be on them. They need to see that I respect them, and that I want them to be here.

"You are too kind," Lady Abadie laughed in a controlled manner. "I must admit, your height, and broad shoulders, have taken me by surprise. Are you truly thirteen?" Her husband has taken the backseat. Daphne mentioned that in Veela Families, it is the women who are in charge.

"I am," Ron replied, and something sparked behind her pale blue eyes. "Actually, I am closer to fourteen than thirteen."

"Remarkable," she smiled at Madame Maxime. "A perfect specimen of British Blood." What? "Tall, and of sturdy stock."

"Not to mention his mental fortitude," Madame Maxime added. "Even I cannot invade his mind, despite my many years of training in the Art of Legilimency." She's trying to talk me up? Fair enough, her name is now tethered to mine.

"I must admit, I am tempted to try my allure on him," Poppy looked back to Ron. "I am, after all, three-quarters Veela, and I have honed my allure for decades." Three-quarters Veela? Does that mean that her father was part-Veela, while her mother was full-Veela?

"Please do," Ron decided, much to Madame Maxime's surprise. "Just once won't hurt."

Poppy looked into his eyes, and then she smiled in an almost predatory manner. She looks like a hawk that has just spotted prey. Ron felt a dull ache in the back of his skull, but it was nothing compared to what he had gone through previously. Entity, don't get angry. This is all for our mission.

"Is it on?" Ron asked, despite knowing that it was.

"Astonishing," Lord Abadie muttered, while his wife blinked at Ron.

"You felt… nothing?" Lady Abadie asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Forgive me for asking, but are you not into women, Monsieur Weasley?" That didn't come across as arrogant at all…

"I am seeing the Heiress of the Greengrass Family," Ron told Lady Abadie, who nodded slowly. Yeah, she's not happy, even I can see that. Well, too bad. Daphne trumps all Veelas in my eyes.

"As I said, he has tremendous mental fortitude," Madame Maxime stepped in. "I would dare say that no other British wizard can compare to his willpower." Ease up, please. Don't make me sound so grand, I'll just disappoint them once they learn more about me.

"I see," Lady Abadie said, Madame Maxime's words eased her annoyance. "Please, come and find me during the night, Monsieur Weasley. I would love to continue our conversation."

"As would I," Ron smiled at her, and she stepped aside with her husband.

The Couture Family stepped forward, and Ron noticed their daughter looking him up and down. Apparently, the French Families don't understand that eyeballing someone is rude. At least be subtle about it.

"Lord and Lady Couture," Ron gave a polite bow, and then he kissed Lady Couture's knuckles. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to Britain."

"Thank you, Monsieur Weasley," Lady Couture smiled at him, she looked quite similar to Lady Abadie. The Veela traits always come through in their children, despite the father's appearance. That's quite neat, actually. No wonder they all look so appealing. "I couldn't help but overhear that you just now resisted Poppy Abadie… That is no small feat. Tell us, how do you do it?"

"It's quite simple, I just resist the urge to give into my need to please," Ron lied. I have an Old God in my head, and it despises Veelas. Actually, it despises everyone and everything.

"If only I had your gift," Lord Couture chuckled, and his wife joined him. Their daughter is staring at me.

Ron looked to their daughter, who looked to be around nineteen, or twenty, years old, and she stepped forward immediately.

"Christina Couture," she put her hand forward, and Ron kissed her knuckles. "Your… body… pleases me greatly." Pardon? "Are you attending this Gala alone?"

"Forgive my daughter's bluntness," Lady Couture gave her daughter an odd look.

"There's nothing to forgive," Ron assured them, and then he looked to Christina. "I have come here with my girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass." Christina looked bored immediately. "I will be sure to introduce her to you all once we're inside."

"Please… Do not trouble yourself," Christina said, while her parents looked a little annoyed with her. Are all Veelas so temperamental? Probably… I'm guessing that they're too used to men bending over backwards for them.

"Christina," Madame Maxime said, and Ron felt the temperature drop. Uh oh.

"She will behave herself, Olympe, I promise," Lord Couture said, while his wife whispered something in French to Christina.

One by one, Ron began meeting the other Families. They all had the same things to say to each other, and Ron noticed that even Families that weren't part-Veela tended to let the women do the talking. He found that to be an odd custom, and figured that this was another thing that he needed to learn about French Wizarding Culture.

After he finished speaking to the Beaumont Family, who had brought their daughter, Tanya, with them, Ron was approached by the Delacour Family. Now, if I remember correctly from my own victory Gala, the mother's name is Apolline Delacour. As for the husband, his name is… Oh, fuck… I don't remember. Shite! Just call him Lord Delacour.

"Lord and Lady Delacour," Ron smiled at them, and they both chuckled.

"Please, we are not counted amongst the Old Blood, despite our status as one of the most prominent Families in France," Monsieur Delacour said. Fucked it up, Ron… You damn idiot. "My name is Abraham Delacour, and this is my wife, Apolline Delacour." This is a bit embarrassing. Adapt, Ron.

"Forgive my blunder," Ron kissed Apolline's knuckles, while she just smiled at him. "Far too many Lords and Ladies in one place…" Didn't I refer to her, and her daughters, as Ladies the last time I spoke with them? Fuck, they were probably too kind to correct me in my state then.

"It is quite alright," Apolline excused him. "I myself sometimes forget who is who. It is good to see you again, Monsieur Weasley. I trust that you have fully recovered from your ordeal?" You mean when your kind fried my brain?

"I have indeed recovered," Ron assured them, while Madame Maxime became eerily quiet.

"You remember my daughter, Fleur, don't you?" Apolline asked, and Fleur Delacour stepped forward.

"Eet ees good to see you again, Monsieur Weasley," Fleur said, her accent was incredibly thick. I'm guessing that she hasn't trained herself in English like the others here. Oh well, I can't judge her, I don't speak a lick of French.

"Fleur insisted on attending this Gala in order to thank you, Ronald," Madame Maxime said, and Ron made sure to hide his surprise.

"Thank me?" Ron smiled at Fleur.

"Gabriella, my sœur," Fleur replied. "She said zat you were kind to her."

"Little Gabriella has been raving on about your 'Powers' for weeks," Abraham laughed. "My daughter, like most young Veelas, is positively infatuated with you." Oh, yeah… I showed the younger ones Wandless Magic, and Gabriella was there. "She was truly upset when she wasn't invited to come, but alas, she has trouble controlling her urges due to her young age."

"I understand completely," Ron kept his smile up. "And you are welcome, Fleur. Gabriella is a lovely girl." I say that, but I don't know a thing about her.

"Merci," Fleur smiled. "I am also sorree for my past…" she stopped.

"Behavior," Madame Maxime provided, and Fleur nodded immediately.

"Sorree," Fleur repeated, and Ron gave her a genuine smile.

"Water under the bridge," Ron assured her, and she looked confused.

Her mother whispered the meaning in French, and Fleur smiled and nodded at him.

"Merci, Monsieur Weasley," Fleur said, and then she reached into her purse and produced a letter. "From Amanda… A reply to your last letter."

"Thank you," Ron took the letter, and he stored it inside his coat pocket. I'll read it later. "Have you two become friends?"

"Friends," Fleur nodded. "I apologize to her too." She's clearly matured quite a lot.

"We shall meet you again inside, Monsieur Weasley," Apolline promised, and Ron gave her a polite nod.

As the Delacour Family began making their way towards Fudge and Dumbledore, who were speaking to the other French Families by the entrance to the Ballroom, Ron and Madame Maxime were approached by an odd young witch. Who is this?

The witch was wearing some form of foreign uniform, and after Ron noticed the silver-hilted Blade hanging from her belt, he knew who this was. Emilia Travers. She stood out immensely due to her short, black, combed-back hair, and her soldier like posture made Ron question whether or not she was a woman. If it weren't for her delicate facial features, and slightly wider hips, I'd have assumed that she was a slender man.

"Ronald, this is Emilia Travers," Madame Maxime introduced, her eyes traveling to Emilia's sheathed Oni-Blade.

"Mr. Weasley," Emilia shook Ron's hand, she had a rather firm grip.

Ron couldn't help but admire her white and red uniform, especially the short red cape that hung off of her left metallic pauldron. She looks so fucking cool. I want on one of those uniforms. Her uniform is almost like light armor, and she wear it extremely well.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Travers," Ron smiled, though her jet black eyes were a little intimidating. She has Lord Greengrass' dead-eyed look about her.

"You brought your sword," Madame Maxime pointed out, her voice losing some of its politeness.

"And?" Emilia said, her eyes fixed on Ron's.

"And… It's a concealed weapon," Madame Maxime said. "This is a party, Emilia."

"Mr. Weasley, do you have your wand on you?" Emilia asked, and Ron blinked at her.

"Of course," Ron replied.

"Does that answer your unspoken question?" Emilia looked to Madame Maxime, who said nothing in response. Yeah, this one isn't afraid of anyone, I can just tell. I like her. "Mr. Weasley, when you have the time, come and speak with me. I will thank you properly for your help."

Before Ron could say anything, Emilia walked past them and made her way towards Fudge and Dumbledore. Bloody hell… She's not one for small-talk, is she?

"Forgive her, Ronald, she is an uncouth barbarian," Madame Maxime frowned to herself.

"What was she wearing?" Ron asked.

"A ceremonial uniform given to Japanese wizards and witches once they get inducted into the Ronin Order," Madame Maxime replied, and Ron had no idea what she was on about. "I shouldn't have invited her, but she insisted."

"She wanted to come to Britain, no doubt," Ron said. "Madam Bones told me about her Family's past."

"Yes, her uncle shamed the Travers Name when he sided with the Dark Lord," Madame Maxime said. "Her Family sided with your Ministry, but after the Great War ended, the public only cared about Phillip Travers' actions. The Travers Family was chased out of Britain by the other Pure-Blood Families, and if the rumors are true, the British Ministry itself."

"The Ministry probably wanted to look competent, and the Travers Family were made scapegoats," Ron frowned a little. That's really unfair on the Travers Family. They no doubt lost their own in the Great War, and their reward for standing by the Ministry was excommunication. "Why didn't they fight back?"

"They tried, but Phillip Travers spent most of their wealth funding the Dark Lord's war," Madame Maxime replied. "The other Families began invading their properties, while the Daily Prophet butchered their reputation. They had no means of fighting back, and so they fled to France. The French Ministry only welcomed them because it made them look forgiving."

"They too were having trouble with the public," Ron figured. "The Great War destroyed so much."

"And now, we stand at the edge of another one," Madame Maxime shook her head, she still couldn't believe Ron's involvement in the Order.

"Why do you think that she wanted to be back in Britain so badly?" Ron asked.

"Only she knows the answer to that, Ronald," Madame Maxime replied. "Personally, I believe that she has come to restore her Family's Honor. Emilia Travers has a strange method of thinking, and she is completely ruthless. Rumor has it that she has sworn Blood Vengeance on those who murdered her father, and those who stole her Family's lands."

"Her father was murdered?" Ron asked.

"When she was very young," Madame Maxime replied. "It was at the beginning of the Great War, I believe. Come, let's join your Minister and Headmaster Dumbledore. All the others have begun making their way inside."

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Harry Potter's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Late Evening)

"Oh, and Lily was so gifted in Potions," Horace Slughorn went on, a nostalgic smile on his face.

Harry had been listening intently to every word, and as he did so, he painted mental portraits of what his mother and father were like at Hogwarts. Sadly, Sirius and Remus didn't like talking about James and Lily Potter that often, mostly because it made them long for simpler times, so Harry was truly grateful for this opportunity.

"My mother was gifted at Potions?" Harry asked, there was a lump in his throat.

"Incredibly so," Horace replied, even he could see the longing on Harry's face. "I personally invited her to my Slug Club, which consisted of all the top students in sixth and seventh years. She fit right in, I should add. Lily had a lovely air of familiarity around her, and her kind demeanor brought out the best in people."

Harry's heart was filled with pride at hearing that, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel horrible for never getting the chance to be with her. Everyone has memories of my parents, but I didn't even know what they looked like until Hagrid gave me that picture of them.

"Was my father in the Slug Club?" Harry asked.

"I invited him after he became Head Boy, but your father was never one for that sort of thing," Horace replied. "A real shame… I'd have loved the set." Set? "Actually… Lily did bring your father to one of my parties in seventh year, but that ended terribly."

"Why?" Harry blinked.

"Your father got into a fight with another guest," Horace Slughorn said. "Severus Snape."

Harry stilled at hearing that name, his father knew Snape?

"Professor Snape was in the Slug Club at the same time as my mother?" Harry asked, and Horace nodded.

"Brilliant boy, that Severus," Horace smiled to himself, but Harry was thoroughly put off. Wretched scum, more like. "He and your mother were inseparable as children, actually."

"Excuse me?" Harry cut in without thinking. "Snape knew my mother?" That's not possible… Why would she associate with someone like that?

"They were very close," Horace tried to remember. "But sadly, they had a falling out before joining my Club. I did spot Severus apologizing to Lily quite often about something, but she was cold to him… Which was quite unlike her." I'm really… confused… now. Snape was friends with my mother? And she was cold to him? "Anyway… Your father struck Severus quite hard, and I had to send him and Lily away."

"Why would my father hit Snape?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "What did Snape do?"

"Well, here's the thing…" Horace said reluctantly. "As far as I know, Severus attempted to apologize to Lily whilst being drunk, but before she could say anything, your father lashed out." What? "Your father and his friends were enemies of Severus from the very start of their schooling, actually."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I have no idea," Horace replied. "But I imagine that it was just school rivalry. You know how competitive Hogwarts can be, don't you?" Harry nodded slowly. "Anyhow, I wouldn't think too much on it. It's all in the past now, my boy." Right… It's in the past now.

Harry was going to question Sirius about this as soon as he got the chance.

"Merlin's beard," Horace suddenly went wide-eyed at something behind Harry, and Harry quickly turned around. "It's really true… He actually managed to bring the French here?"

Harry eyed the latest guests with a slightly confused look, why were so many people shocked to see them? Also, why are the women so beautiful? Silver-Blonde hair, and they seem to be glowing almost. Who are they?

"Sir, who are they?" Harry asked.

"The French, my boy," Horace eyed the Veelas, his walrus-like moustache twitching. "Veelas, to be more precise." Veelas? Like the ones that Ron got famous for resisting?

"Is it bad that they are here?" Harry asked, looking at the sneers being sent by the British.

"Not bad, just very strange," Horace replied, and then he looked to Harry. "Have you not been taught about politics?"

"Um, no," Harry replied. "I mean, Remus tried once, but I don't really like to think about such things." It's none of my business, I just want to be left alone with my friends.

"I… see," Horace said slowly. "Well, the French and the British have a lot of bad blood between them. It's been like that ever since the Great War, mind you, but over the last couple of years, it has gotten worse."

"Why?" Harry asked, though he wasn't really interested. I just want to know why the Pure-Bloods are so agitated all of a sudden.

"Land disputes, too much pride on both sides, and a failure to find common ground," Horace listed. "Not to mention the Veelas… You see, in French Culture, the women usually lead the Families. For a long time, this custom only existed in Veela households, but over time, most of the Old Families began practicing said custom. It really is quite odd, and the British Families look down on such a custom."

"Odd?" Harry asked, he saw nothing wrong with it.

"Well… What kind of man lets a woman make all the decisions?" Horace chuckled nervously, but Harry wasn't amused.

"I… I can't really comment on that," Harry decided to evade the question. The smartest person I know is a witch, and she's usually spot on with her thinking. "Who brought the French here?"

Horace gave Harry a bewildered look, much to Harry's own confusion.

"Your friend, Ronald Weasley," Horace replied, and Harry blinked at him. "He has powerful friends, and he pulled strings from the shadows to bring the French here without anyone's knowledge." What? He did that? "As far as I understand the situation, only the higher-ups in the Ministry knew about this. Well, them, and Ron, of course."

"Ron works for the Ministry?" Harry mumbled, what the hell was going on?

"He does now," Horace replied, a greedy glint in his eyes. "He has been made an International Diplomat to the French!" WHAT?! WHEN?! "You didn't know?"

"Ron… likes his secrets…" Harry all but whispered to himself, while Horace seemed pleased to hear that for some reason. Does his Family know about this? No… Ginny would've told us. "Wait… Is that why the Minister needed his help?"

"I imagine so," Horace nodded, his eyes traveling back to the Veela. "Pardon me, Harry, but I need to use a restroom to freshen up."

"Oh… Sure," Harry nodded.

"Can we continue our conversation later?" Horace asked, and Harry nodded dumbly. Ron is going to be an International Diplomat? But he's only thirteen. Is that even legal?

Horace left to make sure that he looked his best for the Veela guests, and Harry found himself drifting towards Neville and Ginny. Should I tell Ginny and Neville about Ron? I mean, they're going to find out eventually, right? Still… How did Ron manage something like this? Did Dumbledore help him?

Harry felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, but he buried it immediately. He had learned his lesson, but try as he might, he couldn't help but feel alienated because of Ron and Dumbledore's friendship. They really are friends, though, aren't they? Professor Dumbledore barely ever talks to me, whereas Ron and he even play Chess together.

"Harry, there you are," came Neville's voice, and Harry broke out of his thoughts. "Are you seeing this?"

"Yeah…" Harry replied, his eyes darting back to the French, who were now spreading out into the Ballroom.

"That's Lord and Lady Heroux," Neville said, his eyes scanning the French. "Gran has a partnership with them regarding fine silks. Oh, and that over there are the Donadieu Family! They own the biggest Gem Mine in France, and they have trade deals all over the World!"

"How do you know all this?" Ginny asked.

"My Gran taught me," Neville replied. "Actually, all Pure-Blood children are taught this sort of thing… Weren't you taught about the Old Families?"

"No, thank Merlin," Ginny pulled a face, and Harry smiled to himself. Good, I'm not the only one who doesn't care about such tripe. We're just kids, so who cares about this sort of stuff?

"This really is odd," Neville said. "Why are the French here? Who would even invite them? This is going to result in a massive brawl."

"Ron invited them," Harry spoke before thinking, and both Neville and Ginny looked to Harry.

"Pardon?" Neville asked.

"Ron invited them?" Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "How would Ron invite them?"

"Um… Well, Mr. Slughorn told me that Ron's been pulling strings, and that he has powerful friends," Harry replied lamely.

"Pulling strings?" Neville asked, while Ginny adorned a cold look. She's still angry with him. Is the ability to hold grudges a Family trait, or something?

"Yeah," Harry looked to Neville. "He invited them here somehow, and the Minister is in on it."

"Minister Fudge?" Ginny blinked, her cold look disappearing. "My brother is working with the Minister for Magic?"

"That's what I've been told," Harry replied, and Ginny looked as shocked as he was. "Yeah… It's kind of scary, right? Why is Ron even involved with such people?"

"He enjoys licking the proper boots," Ginny said, and even Harry didn't like her tone.

"He's your brother," Neville reminded her. "You shouldn't talk about him like that, Ginny."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ginny scoffed. "Any other manners to teach me, Neville?"

"No…" Neville sighed out, he had no business telling Ginny what to do. "What else did Mr. Slughorn tell you about this, Harry?"

"I don't know if I should tell you guys," Harry admitted. "You know how Ron is about his secrets…" Plus, I've done enough damage to our friendship. Friendship… Are we even friends? No, we're not. I ruined any chance of that when I outed his condition to Hermione and Neville by mistake. Damn, what was I thinking? Oh, I know, I wasn't thinking at all.

"Fair enough," Neville said, and then he looked over to his Gran. "I need to go speak with Gran about this."

"Why?" Harry asked, and Neville shrugged.

"She might have some expectation of me, and I don't want to disappoint her," Neville replied. "She's still struggling with what happened to my parents, and I want her to know that I'm there for her in every way possible." That's the Neville that I love.

"You should go, then," Harry encouraged with a smile.

"Thanks, mate," Neville smiled back. "I'll find you after."

With that, Neville left Harry and Ginny in order to speak with his Grandmother.

"So… What did Mr. Slughorn tell you about Ron?" Ginny looked to Harry.

"Ginny… I don't think that's wise…" Harry said, making sure to look away.

"Not wise?" Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Are you scared of him?" Yes, he beat me bloody, and then nearly got me expelled for it. "You are… Wow…"

"It's not like that," Harry sighed out. "Look, Ginny… I've done something terrible to Ron, and I don't want to make things worse. I know that you've noticed that we're fighting right now, and that he outright avoids Hermione and me."

"And it's your fault?" Ginny asked slowly.

"It is," Harry swallowed thickly. "I crossed a line…" Shut up, Harry.

"What line?" Ginny asked, her eyes trying to catch Harry's.

"I've said enough…" Harry looked around, and that's when he spotted Ron approaching Mr. and Mrs. Weasley not too far from them.

"Fine," Ginny said as she followed his gaze. "I'll go ask him myself."

Before Harry could say anything, Ginny marched off in her Family's direction. Should I follow her? No… I don't want to be near Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, despite Mrs. Weasley forgiving me for breaking their trust. Harry watched Ginny nearing her Family, who were now speaking to Ron. Don't do it, Harry, it's none of your business. And yet, he wasn't sure that he should let Ginny, his friend, confront her brother. She's got a temper, and it could cause her problems.

Harry groaned as he chased after her, and he managed to reach her just before she reached her Family.

"Ginny, don't start a fight," Harry managed to say before they reached the other Weasleys, and Ginny shot him a deadpan look.

"So I'll be bringing them over every now and then," Ron was saying as Ginny and Harry showed up.

"Ron, did you really bring the French here?" Ginny asked, and Ron shot a quick look back.

"Yeah, now don't interrupt," Ron said, and then he looked back to his parents. "Some of them have accents, and it's for the best that we don't comment on that. Also, Madame Maxime wishes to apologize to you both about-"

"You're working with the Minister?" Ginny interrupted.

"Ginny, your brother is trying to speak," Molly Weasley said, while Ron clearly didn't like being interrupted.

"Actually, why don't you join us?" Arthur suggested, and Ginny slowly moved over to her father's side. "Ron, go on."

"Right…" Ron said slowly, shooting a look back at Harry. "Do you mind?"

"Oh… Um… Yeah, I'll go," Harry said.

"Nonsense, Harry," Molly smiled at him. "Come over here, Ron has something to tell us." Um… What?

Harry's gut tensed, he knew that following Ginny was a mistake. But I did it anyway… I just can't help myself, can I?

"Whatever," Ron said, and then he pulled Harry to his side. Ow… That hurt. "Now, as I was saying…" Ron stopped once again, his eyes darting towards Percy, who was walking by. "Perce! Come over here!"

"What is it?" Percy asked as he approached his Family. "I was just about to speak to one of the French Families."

"Good on you, Perce," Ron said, he sounded incredibly pleased about that. God, I feel so out of place right now. "The French are eager to meet us Weasleys, which means that they'll come and find you in order to have a chat. We have to be on our best behavior, and whatever happens, smile. Make them feel welcome, ask them about their culture, tell them about Hogwarts, and just be pleasant."

"Why?" Ginny asked, and Ron pinched the bridge of his nose. "What? It's a genuine question! Don't be rude!"

"Ginny, lower your voice," Percy frowned, looking around at the slightly annoyed bystanders.

"Ginny, the French are your brother's guests," Molly explained. "They hold a great deal of respect for him, and if we don't treat them properly, they will lose respect for Ron."

"The French respect Ron?" Ginny asked, a dull look on her face. "Really? They clearly don't know him all that well." Seriously? She's taking things too far… I get that she's angry and hurt about the twins' situation, but Ron did ask them to stop.

"I'm going to have an aneurism," Ron rubbed his face, while his parents looked less than pleased with Ginny.

"What has gotten into you, Ginevra?" Molly demanded. "Why are you being so hostile tonight?" Yeah, I definitely shouldn't be here.

"Oh, maybe because he framed the twins in order to help Slytherin?" Ginny replied in a challenging voice, which only seemed to anger her mother. Skulk away, Harry. Do it nonchalantly, and then bolt as far as you can.

"Mum, keep her by your side, and make sure that she behaves," Ron said, while Harry tried to back away. "Harry, stay right here. I need to speak to you as well." What? Why? "Percy, do you remember our plan?"

"Plan? What plan?" Arthur looked between his sons.

"Ron offered to introduce me to Madam Bones," Percy perked up. "We're hoping to impress her with my accolades, and in doing so, maybe get me a job under her." Is it just me, or does it feel like Ron is calling all the shots?

"As an Auror?" Molly looked worried.

"No," Percy replied immediately, and Molly let out a held breath. "But a woman as busy as her could use my talents."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Arthur admitted, and Percy genuinely lit up. "Madam Bones is an honorable woman, and you're right, she could use a hard worker on her team."

"Thank you, father," Percy actually showed teeth, while Ron's own lips twitched upwards. "Ron, I'll meet you by the food table? I saw her speaking with one of the French Families near there."

"Alright, I'll see you there," Ron said, and Percy left without another word. Yeah, seeing him that excited is just unnerving. "Mum and dad, I'll bring Madame Maxime over to you in a bit. Please, accept her apology."

"That woman…" Molly frowned a little. "She nearly got you killed…"

"Mum, this is important to me," Ron said, and she gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, go and mingle. I need to speak to Harry alone."

"What is going on here?" Ginny looked utterly bewildered. "Mum… Dad… Why are you taking orders from him?" Yeah, even I'm curious about that. Who's the parent here?

"Enough, Ginny," Arthur returned his daughter's bewildered look. "I don't know what's happened between you two, but now is not the time to be divided. Most of these Families aren't happy about us being here, so we can't turn on each other."

"We're only here because of him," Ginny pointed to Ron, who looked incredibly bored.

"Then leave if you don't want to be here," Ron said coldly. "But I'm warning you, Ginny, if you embarrass this Family in front of our enemies, there will be consequences." Enemies? Like who? Wait… Aren't the Malfoys here? They must be.

"Ron, don't say things like that," Molly gave him a frown, and he drew in a deep breath.

"Please, just keep her in check," Ron sighed out. "I've worked extremely hard for this night."

"Ginny, you're to stay by my side," Molly said, and before Ginny could say anything, Molly shushed her. "No more arguing, young Lady. You will remember your manners, or I will know the reason why."

Arthur guided Ginny away from Harry and Ron, while Molly patted Ron's cheek before following after her husband and daughter. Ginny shot an annoyed look in Ron's direction, one that he completely ignored.

"Um…" Harry muttered, and Ron turned to face him. "What do you need from me?"

"One of the French Families asked if you were in attendance, and I told them that you were," Ron replied.

"Why would they want to know about me?" Harry asked, and Ron just stared at him. "Oh…" Get it together, Harry.

"I have told the French that you and I are close friends," Ron said, and Harry blinked at him. "If they ask you about me, I want you to tell them that I was telling the truth. Tell them that we study together often, and that you respect me."

"But… We're not friends…" Harry said slowly. "Right?"

Ron clenched his jaw, and then he stepped forward in order to tower over Harry.

"You listen to me, and you listen well," Ron whispered dangerously. "You owe me your life, Harry. Do you understand?"

Harry felt intimidated at first because of Ron's height and build, but then his Gryffindor courage kicked in.

"Don't speak to me like that," Harry met Ron's gaze. "We might be fighting because of my actions, but I won't be ordered around like your personal servant."

"You owe me," Ron said. "I'm not ordering you around, I'm asking you to honor your debt to me. I saved your life. I saved the lives of your best friends. I freed Sirius from Azkaban. I smuggled a Dragon out of Hogwarts for you, and then took the blame in order to spare you. I nearly died helping you save the Philosopher's Stone. After my coma, I broke the Law in order to rescue you from your cruel Muggle Family, and in doing so, helped Sirius gain custody of you. I let you sleep in my room, eat with my Family, and I even helped you with your homework. I treated you like a true friend, and you spat in my face at the first opportunity you saw. And then, after we forgave each other, you didn't even wait six months to betray me again."

Harry couldn't help but look down because of Ron's words, he had stopped thinking about Ron's actions prior to second year. He really did do all of that…

"Don't let me down tonight, Harry," Ron said. "Or I swear to Merlin… I. Will. Never. Forget." Ron then took a step back. "Tell Neville what I just told you, and make sure that you smile when you speak of me."

And just like that, Ron turned around and left. Harry stood rooted in his spot for a bit, his guilt creeping back into his mind. I can lie for one night… I owe him that much, at least.

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Late Evening)

"This is not good…" Cornelius muttered, the Minister was watching over the Ballroom with a slightly panicked look. "Albus… This is not good…"

"I find that a little tension does wonders for the soul," Albus smiled as he observed the whispering British. I expected worse, but unsurprisingly, none of them want to be the ones to start a scene.

"I'll let you know about the state of my soul once I've been chased out of my Office…" Cornelius sighed out. "None of our own are mingling with them."

"Then it falls to us to set the example, does it not?" Albus asked, and Cornelius swallowed thickly.

"What if they put me under their Spell?" Cornelius asked slowly. "A man of my standing can't afford to be a puppet, Albus… It would ruin this country." Yes, that would be utterly dreadful. We can't have a puppet Minister, now, can we?

"Cornelius," came an all too familiar voice, and both men turned to look at Lucius Malfoy. Ah, Cornelius' ventriloquist arrives. "Forgive my lateness, but I simply lost track of time."

"Lucius, I'm glad that you're here," Cornelius looked a little relieved, which served to vex Albus a little. "Are your wife and son not with you?"

"Narcissa has fallen ill," Lucius lied, while Albus just smiled at him in his usual manner. "As for Draco, he was thoroughly put off when he learned that his mother would not be attending."

"Shame," Cornelius said. "I hope Narcissa feels better soon."

"I will relay your wishes to her," Lucius said, and then he looked to Albus. "Headmaster."

"Lucius," Albus greeted back. "It has been far too long since we last spoke. How is everything at home?" Petty, Albus. You're being petty.

Albus used his Occlumency in order to find his center again, but some residual anger still lingered in the outskirts of his mind. This man had betrayed Severus to the Dark Lord, despite claiming to be his friend. Albus himself felt great guilt over Severus' current state, and he was wise enough to understand that he was simply projecting his negative emotions onto Lucius Malfoy. And yet, it feels good to blame someone other than myself.

"The Manor is still the same," Lucius lied, though there was a hint of coldness to his voice now. "Cornelius, I couldn't help but notice some of your guests…"

"Ah, yes," Cornelius sounded a little nervous. "Some of the French Families have stepped forward to donate to our cause… With their help, we can start healing our country."

"Our country," Lucius asked, his cold eyes lingering on Cornelius. "These… foreigners… have no right to be here."

"They are here to help," Albus spoke up.

"We don't need their help," Lucius told Albus.

"That argument would only hold weight if fine people such as yourself stepped forward to help the Ministry in these trying times," Albus smiled calmly. "Alas, that has yet to happen, so we must make peace with our neighbors."

"Then invite Wizarding-Kind, not…" Lucius looked to the French women. "Animals."

"Please, there's no need for that," Cornelius chuckled nervously. "Each French Family has promised to donate the maximum sum tonight, and they are our guests. We should prove to them that we're more open than they are, shouldn't we?"

"I suppose you are right," Lucius said dismissively. "Cornelius, I wish to speak to the Headmaster alone for a moment. I will meet you inside."

"Oh… Certainly," Cornelius nodded, and then he looked to Albus. "I hope we'll speak more inside, Albus."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Albus said, and the Minister entered the Ballroom.

Once the Minister had disappeared into the crowd, Lucius lost all pretense of politeness.

"Is my wife alive?" Lucius demanded in a cold whisper.

"She is," Albus replied. "I am not your Master, Lucius. I do not kill without hesitation." Albus then smiled in his kind manner once again. "How is Lord Voldemort? Is his vessel falling apart at the seams yet?"

"You dare speak his name?" Lucius sneered.

"I do, and rather easily, I might add," Albus replied calmly.

"You will pay for what you've done, old man," Lucius promised. "One day soon, justice will find you." Justice?

"Your wife said something similar," Albus remembered. "You sound just as foolish as her."

"Narcissa is not a part of the inner circle," Lucius hissed. "She serves no purpose as your hostage."

"Once again, you are mistaken," Albus told him. "She serves a great purpose."

Lucius blinked at him.

"I took your son to her," Albus said, and Lucius' mask of hatred cracked. "I showed Draco what you, and your Master, did to Severus."

Lucius said nothing, but his eyes revealed his trepidation at the prospect of his son witnessing such a thing.

"He is just a boy…" Lucius started.

"And Ginevra Weasley hadn't even started Hogwarts when you attempted to take her life," Albus lost his smile. "Justice found you, Lucius, and it shall do so again for your numerous crimes." Ronald will see to that, and nothing can change his mind. "As for Draco, you will never see him again."

"Don't be so sure, you old fool," Lucius all but spat out.

"Oh, but I am sure," Albus said, his voice perfectly calm. "Draco has renounced the Dark Lord in favor of his Godfather." Lucius stilled at that. "Yes, Lucius… If you ever do manage to bring your son to your Master, he will look into the boy's mind, and then, he will kill Draco on principle."

"You've signed his death warrant…" Lucius looked visibly shaken, when did Albus Dumbledore begin operating this way?

"I have saved him from your Master's cruelty, and although you might deny it, you are grateful," Albus said, his eyes fixed on Lucius'. "Draco will not be forced to fight for the Order, nor will he be punished for abstaining. He is quite shaken at the moment, but in time, he will learn to keep moving forward." Albus then turned to leave. "As for you, Lucius, you will die before you ever speak to him again."

With that, Albus made his way into the Ballroom.

Deep in Albus' bones, he knew that he had regressed as a person over the last few months. Power had always been his weakness, a lesson that he had learnt over the corpse of his beloved sister, and yet, he was beginning to learn a new lesson. We have failed four hundred and sixty three times, and I can't deny my part in that. I know that if I had done more in my past incarnations, Ronald would not be trapped in his everlasting damnation. This Cycle will succeed, even if I have to give up my soul.

"Headmaster," came Andromeda's voice, and Albus was pulled away from his thoughts.

"Andromeda," Albus looked to his left, and he was quickly approached by Edward and Andromeda Tonks. "And Edward as well. Are you both enjoying your evening?"

"Certainly," Edward smirked, while his wife looked far less entertained.

"Andromeda?" Albus looked to her, and she quickly schooled her features.

"Edward and I are thinking of going home," Andromeda told him. "It was foolish of me to want to be here…"

"You missed a small part of your past life," Albus said. "There's nothing foolish about that, my dear."

"Being here has reminded me why I chose to leave in the first place," Andromeda said. "These people are cruel, and full of hatred."

"Love, it really doesn't bother me," Edward said gently, while Albus looked between them.

"But it bothers me," Andromeda countered, and then she looked to Albus. "I just wanted to speak to you before we left."

"What about?" Albus asked.

"About Siri," Andromeda replied. "Headmaster, he's been acting very…" she stopped in order to think her words through. "Strange."

"Strange?" Albus asked, he too had noticed Sirius' inner conflict.

"Ever since the mission," Edward told Albus. "At first, he was awfully quiet."

"Even awkward," Andromeda added.

"But then he started drinking," Edward went on. "More than usual, that is. Nymphadora told us that he has been distant with the other Order members lately, including his partner, Sturgis. He also always has a drink in his hand now, and he even showed up here drunk."

"Really?" Albus asked. I asked him to keep an eye on Harry tonight. "Where is he right now?"

"We don't know," Andromeda replied, a hint of anger in her voice. "He left poor Harry alone out there, and we haven't seen him since."

"I see," Albus nodded slowly. "Forgive me for this, but I need you both to stay by Harry's side until I locate Sirius."

"We can do that," Edward said immediately, and his wife gave a reluctant nod. "If you do find him, Headmaster, please talk some sense into him. Harry needs a father-figure in his life, not a drunk."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Night)

"There you are," Percy shot him a frown. "I've been following her around for nearly twenty minutes, Ron."

"Sorry, brother," Ron smiled sheepishly. "I got ambushed by three different French Families on the way here." The way they look at me is starting to creep me the fuck out. "So, where is Madam Bones?"

"She's over there, by the crystal statue," Percy looked in her direction, and Ron followed his gaze. "Ron, I'm not too sure about this…"

"That's just the nerves talking," Ron patted Percy's back. "Once you're speaking with her, it'll come naturally." At least I hope so. "C'mon, let's go speak to her."

"You start, alright?" Percy suggested. "You already know her, and you can introduce me." I know how this works, mate.

"Sure, sounds like a plan," Ron decided to say.

As they neared the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who was currently admiring the crystal statue, Ron felt Percy slow down a little.

"Perce, don't lose your nerve," Ron whispered, and he gave a nod.

"I'm just thinking about what to say," Percy told him.

"You do that," Ron sniggered, and then, they were standing right behind her. "Madam Bones, how are you enjoying the party?"

"Ronald," Madam Bones turned around to face him, her eyes darting towards Percy for a moment. "Do you know how much this statue costs?" Huh?

"I'd say around fifteen hundred Galleons," Percy guessed, and Madam Bones looked at him properly.

"Quite right," Madam Bones said, and then she fixed her monocle into place. "Extraordinary, isn't it?"

"Maybe instead of spending fifteen hundred Galleons on a useless statue, Minister Fudge could have donated that money to a charity?" Ron frowned a little, why were most adults so damn greedy?

"Quite right," Madam Bones gave a short smile, while Percy held his tongue. "This statue costs more than my house, and it serves no function besides stroking the man's ego." Is she in a bad mood? She has never spoken out against Fudge so openly.

"I take it that you are not enjoying the Gala, Madam Bones," Percy said, and she looked him over.

"This is my older brother Percy," Ron introduced. "He's the one who mentored me before I started attending Hogwarts."

"So you're to blame for this monster?" Madam Bones cocked an eyebrow, while Ron grinned at her.

"Partly," Percy couldn't help but smile, he liked that Ron remembered his lessons. "I am sorry if he has given you any grief, Ron has a way of aggravating people."

"That he does," she said, her voice slightly less stern now. "Your father speaks very highly of you, Percy."

"He does?" Percy asked.

"I run into him at the Ministry often," Madam Bones replied. "He told me an extraordinary tale about your O. W. Ls."

"I see," Percy nodded slowly.

"You earned twelve O. W. Ls without the use of a Ministry provided Time-Turner," Madam Bones said, and Ron wondered about what a 'Time-Turner' was. "That is quite impressive."

"I created an efficient timetable, and I stuck with it regardless of circumstance," Percy straightened his back. "It wasn't easy, but I managed to pull it off."

"And you are Head Boy as well?" Madam Bones asked, while Ron felt the need to slink away. They don't need me here anymore. I should keep moving around.

"I am," Percy replied. "I was made Prefect in my fifth year, and the Headmaster himself promised me the position of Head Boy at the start of my sixth year."

"He did?" Madam Bones asked. Yeah, he did?

"I took it upon myself to fill the role of Head boy in my fifth year," Percy explained. "The Head Boy at the time was more interested in mucking about rather than doing his job, and so I took the lead. The other Prefects didn't mind, and neither did the Head Boy."

"A Curse-Breaker, a Dragon-Tamer, an academic genius, and Ronald…" Madam Bones looked between the two brothers. "A generation of high-achievers in a single Family." She missed the twins and Ginny. "Your parents must be the proudest couple around." Debatable.

"They are definitely the most stressed," Ron joked, deciding to jump in again.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Madam Bones gave a half-smile, and then she looked to Percy. "What are your plans after you Graduate, Mr. Weasley?" Ah, finally.

"I plan to start a career within the Ministry," Percy replied, and Madam Bones stared at him.

And then, she looked to Ron.

"This meeting is not by chance, I take it," she said, and Ron felt Percy tense a bit. Relax, old boy. Adapt.

"I like to think that Fate has brought us all together," Ron smiled at her, and her lips twitched upwards. "I mean, there is no doubt in my mind that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently besieged by a massive workload, and as it happens, the most diligent Weasley is looking to start a career within the Ministry."

"How fortunate I am," Madam Bones looked to Percy, who kept his features perfectly still. Relax, Percy… "Do you wish to work within my Department?"

"I believe that my work-ethic could be of great use to you, Madam Bones," Percy said, almost as if he was reciting a speech. Charisma is clearly not a word in Percy's vocabulary. "I have no desire to be an Auror, and unlike most, a desk job would suit me perfectly. I believe that I have also proven that I take the initiative, and that I can easily manage my time in order to accomplish my set goals."

"And what sort of desk job would you prefer?" Madam Bones asked, the boy's exemplary Hogwarts career earned him the right to make his case.

"I know that you don't have a personal assistant, unlike all the other Heads of Ministry Departments," Percy said, he had done his research on this woman. "I would like to work directly under you, and in doing so, learn from you. I believe that the Ministry is a vital part of the British Wizarding Community, and I'd like to help steer it into the Future."

"And what would you do for me?" Madam Bones asked.

"I'd act as your right hand man," Percy said resolutely. "I'd schedule your meetings, lower your workload, keep you in the loop, and even advise you, if you'll have my opinion."

"And are you as resourceful as your brother?" Madam Bones asked. Probably not.

"No, I am not," Percy admitted, though it pained him to do so. "But I am a fast learner, and I put my heart and soul into my work, regardless of its importance."

"And Percy is the one who taught me the value of hard work," Ron added for good measure. It is true, so why not tell her? "Despite his own hectic school schedule, Percy sat me down for hours on end to teach me the basics of Magic. Without him, I would not be who I am today." Ron then drew in a deep breath. "Trust me, Madam Bones, you could not ask for a finer right hand man."

Madam Bones looked Percy over, and then she fixed her monocle again. C'mon, you only benefit from this partnership. You don't even have to do anything, Percy will be the one helping you.

"When you near your Graduation, send me an owl," Madam Bones said, and both brothers smiled in relief. "If you still wish to be my personal assistant then, we'll work something out." Madam Bones then looked to one of her Aurors, who was currently speaking to a young Veela. "Excuse me, please, but I need to attend to something."

"Thank you for your time, Madam Bones," Ron said, and she gave him a nod before leaving.

Once she was gone, Percy let out a long breath and deflated on the spot. He did well, despite his lack of charisma.

"Good work, Perce," Ron put his arm around Percy, and then he gave his brother a comforting squeeze. "I told you that she'd appreciate someone like you."

"Thanks…" Percy managed a weak smile, his nerves had suddenly given out. "You really think she'll take my owl?"

"Of course," Ron replied. "She's not the sort of person who speaks without thought, and she probably understands that by hiring you, she only benefits."

"That went a little too smoothly though," Percy couldn't help but point out.

"Well, you have the perfect credentials, so that definitely helped," Ron smiled at Percy. "I didn't know that the Headmaster promised you the position of Head Boy in your sixth year."

"Yeah… I never told anyone," Percy said, and then he straightened his posture.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I… I didn't really have anyone to tell," Percy admitted, and Ron blinked at him. "I mean, no one would have cared much. If anything, I'd be made fun of. So I just kept it to myself."

"What about your girlfriend?" Ron asked, he didn't like that Percy felt this way. I guess I was a little too preoccupied with the Heir last year.

"Penelope's great… But…" Percy stopped with a sigh. "It doesn't matter, Ron, just enjoy the party. I'd rather not bore you with my personal life." He really means that?

Ron shot quick looks around them, and he noticed a few people that he wanted to speak to. They can wait, Ron. You owe Percy a great deal, and he's never asked for a thing in return.

"You say that you have no one to talk to, but I'm right here," Ron said, and Percy just stared at him. "C'mon, Perce… You can talk to me."

"The Gala-" Percy started.

"Can wait its turn," Ron interrupted, and then he let go of Percy. "Brothers talk to each other, Percy, so let me listen to you."

"You're a persistent one," Percy said, all the while hiding how shocked, and happy, he was. "Well… Things between Penelope and me are temporary."

"How so?" Ron asked.

"She wants to travel the World right after Hogwarts," Percy replied, and Ron nodded slowly. "Plus, she's in her sixth year right now… After I Graduate, I want to start working on my career immediately, but she'll still be at school. We talked about it, and I asked her if she wanted to… move in… with me after she finished school. She told me that she wanted to travel the World while she was still young, and we both realized that our relationship wasn't going to last. Neither of us want to change our life plans."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ron said genuinely.

"It's alright…" Percy shrugged, he had never really spoken to any of his Family members about his personal affairs before. "Things like this happen… I can't expect her to throw away her dreams for mine, because I know for a fact that I don't plan to do that for her. So… We decided to keep dating until I Graduate, and then part ways as friends."

"Maybe after she comes back from her travels, you two can meet up again?" Ron suggested.

"Maybe," Percy gave Ron a grateful smile. "Who knows what the Future holds, right?" I do. "Anyway… Enough about me, Ron."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Percy replied, and then he patted Ron's back. "Thanks for listening, I haven't told anyone about this yet. It feels good to talk about it with someone else."

"If you ever need an ear, Perce, you can always come find me," Ron said, and Percy gave him a nod.

"I'll… try and remember that," Percy said, and then someone approaching them caught his eye. "Who…?"

"Mr. Weasley," Emilia Travers greeted, her expression stone-like. "Do you mind having that chat now?"

"Lady Travers," Ron smiled at her, but she kept her mask of indifference. "This is my brother-"

"Percy Ignatius Weasley," Emilia cut him off. "Twelve O. W. Ls, Prefect turned Head Boy, studying twelve N. E. W. Ts."

Ron blinked at her, while Percy looked genuinely taken aback. She knows about Percy? How? Was she listening in? No… She just showed up from the other side of the Ballroom.

"Have we met?" Percy asked slowly.

"No," she replied, her black eyes fixed on Ron. "Mr. Weasley?"

"Percy, why don't you go and mingle?" Ron looked to his brother, who was looking at Emilia with a furrowed brow. "Perce…"

"I'll see you later, then," Percy said, and then he slowly parted ways from Ron.

Once he was out of sight, Ron looked to Emilia with a slightly suspicious look.

"You've done your research," Ron figured.

"Does that bother you?" Emilia asked, her eyes fixed on his.

"Yes," Ron admitted.

"Good, that means that you're not stupid," Emilia said, and then she gestured towards the back exit. "Accompany me to the Gardens, Mr. Weasley, I wish to speak in private." I'd rather stay near the public.

"The Gardens are closed," Ron told her.

"Then I will have them opened," Emilia said immediately after. "Come." There's no point in arguing with her, I can already tell.

Ron put on a smile as he turned to leave for the Gardens, and they began making their journey side-by-side. Her blade looks awesome! I want one of those!

"Can you tell me why you wish to have a private conversation?" Ron asked.

"I don't want the other guests to overhear us," Emilia replied. "Don't worry, Mr. Weasley, I mean you no harm. Yet." Yet?!

"That sounded an awful lot like a threat," Ron pointed out.

"Then it served its purpose," Emilia said, she had a rather blunt way of speaking. "I wish to see if you and I can work together, but if not, then you will be my enemy."

"Enemy?" Ron shot her a quick look, his amusement completely gone. "You have no enemies here, Lady Travers. This is a Charity Event for the Restoration of St. Mungo's Hospital."

"You are wrong," Emilia said a little too calmly. "All of my enemies are here." Alright, she's starting to get to me. What's her goal? Was Madame Maxime right about her swearing Blood Vengeance against certain British Families?

They began nearing the back exit, which was being guarded by Nymphadora Tonks and John Dawlish.

"Sorry, but the Gardens are closed for the time being," Dawlish stepped forward, while Tonks gave Ron a subtle wave. Hello, Tonks. Looking cute as a button, like always.

"I wish to speak to Mr. Weasley alone," Emilia said. "The Ballroom does not provide me with the privacy that I seek, so I wish to speak to him in the Gardens."

"We have orders," Dawlish said firmly. "No one is allowed outside."

"You can either step aside, or I can involve your superiors," Emilia told the man. "Whose side will Madam Bones take in this matter?"

"Then go and find her," Dawlish told Emilia. Wow, he's no doormat.

"Ease up there, John," Tonks rolled her eyes, and she smiled at Emilia. "He takes his job far too seriously."

"Tonks," Dawlish shot a frown in her direction.

"We're going to open the Gardens in twenty minutes anyway, so why not let them through?" Tonks asked in return. "It'll save Madam Bones a headache, and we can all stay friendly."

"She is right," Ron stepped in. "Madam Bones is currently running the entire event, so disturbing her will just cause problems. We won't take long, and no one has to know."

Dawlish eyeballed Emilia, who just stared back at him with an expressionless face.

"Fine, ten minutes," Dawlish stepped aside. "If you take longer than that, then I'll come looking for you."

"I understand," Emilia said, and then she looked to Tonks. "Thank you, Metamorphmagus."

"Um… How did you know…?" Tonks blinked.

"Your hair," Emilia replied. "No sane individual would support florescent pink, unless they were a Metamorphmagus, who are drawn to bright colors, and have a need to stand out." Is she a Dementor in human disguise? Also, she's got a sharp eye. Maybe Daphne was right, and this woman really is a Prodigy.

"Um… Thanks?" Tonks gave Ron a confused look, and he just smiled at her.

Tonks then opened the back door, and both Ron and Emilia stepped out into the cool night. Ron couldn't help but admire the marble terrace, and the far reaching Gardens, which were lit up with Christmas lights. It's almost as nice as the Greengrass Gardens, despite being much smaller. Oh, and I don't see any Fairies either. Ron and Emilia walked down the marble steps, and they began following one of the lit paths leading further into the Gardens.

"What do you think of this Manor, Mr. Weasley?" Emilia asked. "Please, tell the truth."

"I think… that the Minister should have a humbler home," Ron admitted, deciding to stay on her good side.

"Then we are of one mind," Emilia said, and Ron shot her a pleasant smile. "A Minister should serve his people, not himself. How do you think that he acquired such an extravagant Manor on a Minister's salary?"

"Bribes," Ron replied. "The Ministry is incredibly corrupt, and everyone knows it. Sure, there are a few good apples, but it hardly matters because even the barrel is rotten."

"The French Ministry is not so different," Emilia told Ron. "I personally blame Families like ours, Mr. Weasley."

"Really?"

"Far too many of us have become greedy, and so we constantly work to hold onto our wealth," Emilia replied.

"If you've researched me, then you know that my Family has no wealth to speak of," Ron said, and she gave him a nod.

"There was a time when we Wizards worshiped Magic, not Gold," Emilia said. "We were Pure, then, but now we are far too much like those wretched Goblins." Where is she going with this? "When this country was first settled by the Wizards of Old, Magic was a religion. It was Sacred. We learnt from the-"

"The Fae?" Ron looked to her, and she looked back at him.

"You know our History?" Emilia smirked.

"I know that we betrayed the Fae, and that we fashioned wands out of their Sacred Trees," Ron replied. "They gave us the gift of knowledge, and we used that very gift against them."

"Greed, Mr. Weasley," Emilia all but whispered. "That is our sin."

"Why have you brought me out here?" Ron stopped, they were far enough from the Manor now.

"I wish to know you," Emilia replied, and then she turned to face him.

"Know me?" Ron asked.

"I wish to see what lies in here," she said as she rested her hand over his heart. This witch is weird. "Are you greedy, Mr. Weasley?"

"No more than the next man," Ron replied. "I want to provide for my Family, and to do that, I need wealth and position. I wish to protect my loved ones, and to do that, I need to become more powerful. So in a way, I am greedy."

"That was a good answer," she said, not a hint of emotion on her face. "You are not like your fellow children, even a blind man could see that. What makes you different?"

"Circumstance," Ron replied, his eyes darting down to her hand.

"I can understand that," she said as she pulled her hand back. "I too was changed by circumstance. Have you heard about the Travers Family, Mr. Weasley?"

"Not until recently," Ron admitted.

"We were betrayed by my uncle, Philip Augustus Travers, who was driven mad by his greed for power and favor," Emilia said, and Ron listened quietly. "He cast our Name into the filth for his own gain, and our Family was torn apart as a result. My father, Caranthir Augustus Travers, was invited to dine with my uncle's friends when the war was still young. My father loved his older brother, and so he accepted the invitation in order to bring his wayward brother back into the fold. During the dinner, my uncle, and his friends, used the table knives to butcher my father for speaking out against the Dark Lord."

"I am sorry to hear that," Ron said, he was still trying to figure out her angle. "How old were you?"

"I was one year old when my father was murdered," Emilia replied. "When I turned seven, my mother told me the entire story on her deathbed, and I never forgot." Merlin, does this woman have any good memories?

That's when something clicked in Ron's head, and he looked down at her sword.

"All of your enemies are here…" Ron said slowly, and then he looked back at her face. She really did make an oath of Blood Vengeance, didn't she?

She looked even colder than before, and there was an unmistakable bloodlust behind her black eyes.

"We fought alongside the Ministry, we bled and mourned our loved ones, and in the end, we were betrayed by those we called our friends," Emilia whispered coldly. "The Longbottoms, the Fawleys, the Shafiqs, the Shacklebolts, the Abbots, the Macmillans, the Prewetts, and… the Weasleys. Not one of you stood for us when the British Ministry needed a scapegoat, and so we were exiled, despite our sacrifices."

"Why are you here now?" Ron asked, making sure to be ready for anything. If she tries anything, I'll use Cutis Terra to defend myself. At this distance, I can easily grab onto her. "Why come back to Britain after all this time?"

"I have come to restore my Family's tarnished honor," Emilia replied, she felt no need to hide her plans. "I have come to reclaim our lands. I have come to avenge my father's murder. I have come to reclaim my birthright."

"Your birthright?" Ron cocked an eyebrow. "Haven't you already reclaimed that?"

"You speak of my Great-Aunt," Emilia figured. "So… You've done your research as well." Hardly, my girlfriend did the research.

"You killed your own Blood," Ron said.

"I did," Emilia replied, her stare becoming intense. "Greed corrupted my Great-Aunt, and so I purged her filth from my Family forever." Fuck me dead. I won't lie, I'm a little scared right now.

"Greed?" Ron asked.

"She planned to sell our businesses to Cornelius Nott, who promised to make her a rich woman," Emilia replied. "I came back from my studies abroad, but instead of receiving a happy welcome, I found my Family divided by civil war. My Great-Aunt refused to listen, and her greedy son, my father's youngest cousin, was also blinded by his greed. The Family accounts were in her name, at least until I came of age, a Law which they refused to honor. So I killed her, and then I cut off her son's hands as repayment for their disloyalty. Do you disagree with my actions?" Fuck yes, you crazy bitch.

"Family has to come first," Ron replied, and she gave him a nod. "But your punishment was far too severe."

"And yet, I was named the Head of my Family without question right after," Emilia said.

"Because they feared you," Ron said.

"Good, they should fear me," Emilia told Ron. "Not one of them has stepped out of line since, and as long as I breathe, they will follow me into Hell itself. Now, to answer your earlier question… My birthright isn't being the Head of my Family, it is everything that was stolen from us. We Travers were one of the first settlers of Magical Britain, far older than even the Malfoys, and yet, we are forced to live away from our home, while men like Lucius Malfoy parade around in Diagon Alley."

"That cunt," Ron's mood soured at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy.

"You hate him?" Emilia asked, something flashing behind her eyes.

"Of course, he doesn't deserve to live, let alone sneer down at my Family," Ron replied.

Emilia took a step forward, and Ron immediately became alert.

"Seven men attended the dinner where my father was butchered," Emilia whispered, her eyes locked onto Ron's. "Lucius Malfoy, Cornelius Nott, Amycus Carrow, Augustus Rookwood, Bartholomew Goyle, Herbert Crabbe, and Philip Travers… I have vowed on my Magic that I will collect their heads, or at least live long enough to see them dead." Blood Vengeance. "I require powerful allies within Britain, and you have piqued my interest."

"You want my help in killing these men?" Ron asked, and she gave him a nod. "You understand that I'm just a thirteen year old, right?"

"I am showing you a great deal of respect, Mr. Weasley, but if you patronize me again, I will add your name to my list," Emilia warned. And I'll skin your Family alive, and make damn sure that you watch.

"Should I be afraid?" Ron smiled at her. "Don't threaten me, Lady Travers, you have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Is that so?" Emilia asked.

Emilia then began to stare into his eyes, and that's when Ron felt a dull ache in the back of his skull. Her eyes widened as she felt the Entity's presence, and Ron immediately knew what that meant. This bitch! She just used Legilimency on Us! Emilia's right hand moved towards her Blade through sheer instinct, but Ron grabbed her right arm just as his eyes became crimson and toad-like.

"We will eat you," Ron growled, and Emilia froze with a slightly horrified look on her face. "Never look into Our mind again, little human."

She just stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar. Ron could feel her arm trembling, and for a moment, he felt the urge to take a bite out of her throat. Fucking whore… Ron turned his head and cracked his neck, and then he let go of her arm. She immediately stepped back, but she didn't dare reach for her Blade.

"What… What are… you?" she managed, while Ron's eyes returned to normal.

"Champion… Use this woman…" the Entity growled in the back of his mind. "Channel her wrath towards the Lord of Serpents… She will shed blood in your name…"

"Answer me… De… Demon…" Emilia took another step back, her discipline shattered due to the Entity's voice and presence.

"Stop shaking," Ron said, a terrible calm washing over him. "If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have ripped your arm off just then."

A part of him was beginning to panic, he had just revealed the Entity in a fit of rage, but at the same time, he knew that he had the upper hand now. This woman, who was clearly his superior in everything, was trembling at the mere sight of him. Use her fear, and make her your ally. Think fast, Ron, or you'll be forced to put her down.

Ron took a step forward, and she immediately reached for her Blade.

"Don't," Ron said firmly, but it made no difference.

"You are not human…" Emilia tried to regain her focus, but the boy's monstrous voice began echoing in the back of her mind.

Emilia visibly shuddered, and she took another step away from him.

"Don't… come near me…" she warned, though her trembling voice made her sound like a frightened child. "Monster…"

"Listen to me," Ron raised his hands in surrender, his voice almost gently. "Those seven names… I can help you with them. I too want these men dead, starting with Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Nott."

She just stared at him, and Ron decided to take a step back.

"I mean you no harm," Ron promised. "You delved into my mind without permission, and it angered me. I'm sorry that you had to see something so frightening, but it was your own fault. Now… Relax, and take a deep breath." She slowly did as he asked, but her eyes never left him. "I have not brought the French here on a whim. I have plans for the Future of this country, and I see now that we are natural allies. I too want to kill the men on your list, and if we work together, we can achieve our common goal."

"What are you?" she asked once again, her voice strained. "Le fléau de Vélane…"

"That name means nothing to me," Ron told her. "A silly legend that the Veelas have associated with me, nothing more."

"But you are not human…" Emilia swallowed thickly, her mind doing its best to banish the Demonic voice.

"No," Ron admitted. "Not anymore, I think." Ron then drew in a deep breath. "Forgive my anger, Emilia Travers, it was not very worthy of me. I swear to you that I mean you no harm."

"Tell me what you are," she demanded, her fear feeding her anger.

"Something far worse than a Demon," Ron replied, which did little to calm her down. "I propose a partnership between us."

"Partnership…?" she asked slowly. "Why would I align myself to… whatever you are?"

"Because I understand your pain," Ron replied. "Or at least, a small part of it. What happened to your Family was nothing short of criminal, and it saddens me to know that my own Family did not speak out when you were all being cornered. I was not old enough to say anything at the time, of course, but allow me to apologize on their behalf. I am sorry."

She said nothing, and Ron could tell that she was still debating on what to do. C'mon, Ron, do something. And do it before she pulls that sword out and cuts your head off.

"The Dark Lord has returned," Ron told her, and she didn't seem fazed by that. I know why. "Madame Maxime told you, did she not? She reached out to the French Families, and asked them all to come here under pretense of donating to the Restoration of St. Mungo's. But the truth is that you are all here to sign up for the reignited Order of the Phoenix." Her eyes widened a little. "That's right, I brought you here. I brought you all here. Madame Maxime did as I asked of her."

"She is under your Spell?" Emilia asked.

"No," Ron replied. "She is my friend and ally, so I asked her for help without any tricks. I told her of my part in the Order, which is a closely guarded secret that only Albus Dumbledore knows of."

"You're telling me…" she pointed out, and then she tried to refocus her mind.

It didn't work.

"I am," Ron said. "I sense a kindred spirit in you."

"Do not compare me to yourself, demon," her expression darkened.

"I am trying to reach out to you," Ron told her. "Do not push me away, Emilia, it won't end well for you." Ron then relaxed his tensing body, and he tried to imagine himself on Stoatshead Hill. "War is coming, and both sides are preparing for the inevitable blood bath. I need people who are willing to kill our enemies, something that the Order frowns upon greatly, and you fit the bill. Just like me, you understand that corruption must be burned away. Lucius Malfoy, and the others like him, should have been locked away in Azkaban after the Great War, but unfortunately, they bribed their way out. I can now see why you detest the concept of greed so much… After all, the greed of others undid your Family's honor."

"If you are so powerful, then why don't you kill them yourself? Why are they still alive?" Emilia hissed. Firstly, I'm not that powerful. Secondly, I don't want to end up in Azkaban just yet.

"I plan to," Ron admitted. "But things are complicated right now. I am friends with the children of the people that we both loathe, and Albus Dumbledore has cautioned restraint."

"He knows what you are?" she asked.

"He does," Ron replied. "Only him, and now, you. Not even my Family knows, so if you ever mention my true nature to anyone, there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

Once again, she said nothing, but at least this time, she gave a hesitant nod.

"Look," Ron said, and then he pulled his left sleeve back.

Emilia eyed his scars, and for a moment, Ron saw shock written on her face.

"My entire body is covered in similar scars," Ron told her. "A gift from the Dark Lord himself."

"You have faced him?" she asked slowly.

"At the end of my first school year," Ron told her. "I barely survived our encounter, and like you, I have sworn Blood Vengeance against him." Not really, but it sounds better. "We are on the same side, Emilia Travers. Help me claim my vengeance, and I will do the same for you."

"Tell me what you are first," Emilia demanded. "Prove to me that you can be trusted."

"I have just given you plenty of proof," Ron was starting to get annoyed. Get a grip, woman. "You now know things about me that no one in the World does, not even my most cherished ones."

"And you say that Dumbledore knows everything?" Emilia asked.

"He does, but if you tell him what I told you, he will Obliviate you," Ron assured her.

"Convenient," Emilia said to herself.

"If you don't believe me, then by all means, go and find him," Ron stepped aside, and when she didn't move, Ron took a step towards her. Good, she didn't move back.

"Why have you told me all of this?" Emilia asked. "It can't just be because you want my help."

"I don't want to kill someone because I couldn't keep my true nature in check," Ron admitted, and she blinked at him. "So if I can't kill you, then I have to recruit you. The mysteries of my inner workings shouldn't matter to you in the first place, you should only care about your Magical Oath. With my help, you can get what you want… What we both want."

"Death-Eater blood," Emilia muttered under her breath, but Ron heard her.

"No loose ends this time," Ron said, his eyes digging into hers. "We either kill our enemies, or we lock them away forever. No more half-measures." Ron then put his gloved hand forward. "The Order won't follow me that far, but someone like you will. I have helped the Order as much as I can, but I understand that certain lines will need to be crossed in the Future. Join the Order, but keep faith with me, and me alone."

"And Albus Dumbledore?" Emilia asked.

"No, just me," Ron replied. "Albus Dumbledore is a good man, one who values each life, no matter how deplorable. He might take severe actions one day, but so far, he has shown me that there are many lines that he won't cross." And I hate that I'm changing him into someone else. I might never admit it, but I love him just as he is.

"What guarantee do I have that you won't kill me?" Emilia asked.

"The fact that you're still breathing should be guarantee enough," Ron replied, and she gave a slow nod. "Swear a Magical Oath to me, and I will do the same to you. We will be partners."

"An Unbreakable Vow?" Emilia asked, and Ron gave her a nod. I have no idea how to do one. The only reason why I even know about it is because the twins nearly killed me with one when I was little. "You'd go that far?"

"My only goal in life is to save my Family and friends from the coming war, and to do that, I have to do whatever it takes," Ron replied, and she seemed to relax a little because of his words. "I can't give you anymore assurances, Emilia. You'll have to take a leap of faith."

"We will need a third party for this Vow to work," Emilia said, and Ron pulled his hand back.

"Then we can't make an Unbreakable Vow," Ron told her. "No one can know of our conversation."

Emilia looked him over, and then she began to walk around him. She's scared of stepping too close to me.

"Give me time…" she said, and Ron watched her with sharp eyes.

"You have one day," Ron told her. "After that, I will you find you myself."

She gave a weak nod, and then she began heading for the Manor.

"Wait," Ron called, and she stopped immediately. "There is one more thing that I want from you."

"What?" she turned to face him.

"My girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass, wants to bring your Family's Milling Business to Britain," Ron told her, and she looked quite taken aback. "I know that this is an odd thing to say after the conversation that we just had, but listen to me. She will approach you later in the night, and you will accept her offer."

"Why? Does she know what you are?" Emilia asked.

"No, and if you tell her, I'll rip your heart out," Ron replied, his eyes blazing red for a moment.

Emilia stilled once again, while Ron drew in a deep breath. Stay calm, Ron, think of Stoatshead Hill.

"Accept her proposal, which will give you a genuine reason to stay in Britain," Ron said, and she nodded slowly. "And never speak of our conversation to anyone. If you do, I will find out."

Emilia said nothing, instead, she gave him a nod and left for the Manor. Ron could see that she was clutching onto the hilt of her Blade with such force that her entire right arm was trembling, a sight which made Ron want to smack himself.

"You did well…" the Entity hissed, and Ron felt his own body tense. "We can see her rage aiding your Cycle…"

"You shouldn't have shown your face," Ron thought, and the Entity growled.

"We didn't… You have changed, Champion… What she saw was your own vileness," the Entity told him, and Ron scoffed.

"Fuck off," Ron said, and he felt the Entity's presence vanish slowly. My own 'vileness'? Whatever… I wish that she didn't see the Entity, but wishing is for idiots. What's done is done, and if she does betray me, I'll kill her.

Ron waited around for a minute, and he let the cool breeze of the night wash over him. In the back of his mind, a fear was growing. She saw the Entity, and I let her leave… But what else was I supposed to do? She's done me no wrong, not counting her Legilimency attack, which isn't enough to warrant an execution.

Ron closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, and for a moment, he felt that he was standing at the top of Stoatshead Hill. His mind slowly realigned, and he felt the semblance of a 'wall' move to his forehead. A shield… A weak, useless shield, but still, I've started making progress. Focus on the wall, Ron. 'Put sturdier rocks into it'. His breathing became slow, and he felt the Sun shine down on him. There was true peace in his mind for a moment, and when Ron reopened his eyes, he knew what he had to do. There are many Families here that I still need to meet. I will start by getting some more food, and a cold drink. After that, I will find these Families.

Ron began making his way towards the Manor, his fear buried under the weight of his duty. The jug had been broken, and regret wasn't going to put it back together. I will ask Dumbledore to teach me the Art of Obliviation. I will make time for it, somehow. As Ron began nearing the Manor, he heard the sound of girls giggling from over the hedge. I know those voices.

"Astoria Greengrass, and Luna Lovegood," Ron said as he walked around the hedge, and he found the two girls sitting on a bench together.

Oddly enough, they were holding hands, and Astoria was flushed from laughter. What the…?

"Ron," Luna smiled at him, her right hand still holding Astoria's left. "Do you want to join us?"

"Join you?" Ron cocked an eyebrow as he walked up to them.

"Luna is reading my fortune," Astoria beamed at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Anything good?" Ron asked.

"Well, I am to be married to a very rich man," Astoria grinned, while Luna drew circles on her palm. "He'll love me more than anything in the World, and our children will all be Slytherins."

"Her husband won't like that very much, but he'll still love his Family," Luna added.

"I see," Ron laughed a little. "Where did you learn to read palms, Luna?"

"My friend Margaret taught me," Luna smiled proudly. "She told me that her Family is well known for their Fortune Shop in Diagon Alley, and that her own mother taught her." Luna then lit up. "Ron, let me read yours!"

"Yes!" Tori laughed in an unladylike manner, and then she quickly moved aside. "Ron, come over here!"

"Alright, alright," Ron said, and then he sat down between the two girls.

Tori immediately clung to his right arm, her chin resting on his shoulder as she waited for Luna to start. Luna took his left hand, and she began staring at his palm with a very serious look. Cute. I'm glad that they seem to be getting along.

"Well?" Tori asked impatiently.

"Don't rush me, Astoria," Luna hummed, and Tori mumbled an apology. "Ron…" What? Why does she sound so put off all of a sudden?

"Well, what do you see?" Ron asked, and she looked up at him with an odd look.

"Your palms are sweaty," Luna said, and Ron just blinked at her.

Unbeknownst to the three children, Emilia Travers was looking at them from a distance. If her recent conversation had left her jarred, then the sight of Ronald Weasley laughing with two little girls left her speechless. Whatever that creature was, it knew how to pass as human.

---

Sirius Black's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Night)

Sweet Circe, this witch knew what she was doing.

In all of Sirius' years, never had he been so absorbed in the act of shagging. She matched his thrusts with overwhelming vigor, she moaned his name with a sweet smile on her face, and the way she moved her hips made her look like an exotic dancer. He found himself enamored with the sweat that was rolling down her dark, ample bosom, and she clearly noticed him staring because she arched her back even more in order to give him a better view.

"You can finish in me," she moaned. "I have a Potion in my purse."

She bit his ear as she finished speaking, and Sirius felt a surge of greater ecstasy because of her words. With one swift motion, he grabbed the underside of her rear, and lifted her up against a nearby wall. She giggled in excitement, and then immediately adapted to her new position. As for Sirius, he put his entire body, soul, and mind into pleasing her.

His thrust became far more violent, and he nibbled at her neck as his hands felt her taut thighs. His mind, for the first time in a while, was focused on the task at hand. He felt young, unburdened, and completely free. The only thing that mattered to him right now was pleasing this witch, who, judging by her clenching muscles, was nearing her release.

"I'm nearly there," Sirius panted, and she pulled him into a deep kiss in response.

They both moaned into each other's mouths as Sirius reached his limit, and her muscles clamped down on his member so hard that he feared for his male anatomy. And then, they both collapsed onto the ground. Sirius held her to his chest as he tried to regain his mind, while she explored his mouth with slow, lethargic movements.

"Fucking hell…" Sirius said as he pulled back, and they gave each other lazy, proud smiles. "Well? Did I please?"

"Yes," Clementine giggled as she gave him a quick peck. "I should send Rita a gift basket for recommending you."

"Please, don't mention her," Sirius lost some of his mirth, and she kissed him again.

"Sorry, handsome," Clementine said, and then she reached down and pulled him out of herself. "Merlin… I'm almost out of breath." Almost? I'm completely tuckered out here.

"So you read the article, and decided to test me out?" Sirius asked again, and she gave him a naughty smile. Crazy witch. Maybe I should thank that bitch Skeeter as well?

"I wanted to see Sirius Orion Black for myself, and I think that we can both agree that I made the right decision," Clementine replied.

"Definitely," Sirius slowly rested his back against the floor, while Clementine got to her feet.

Sirius rubbed his face in order to break out of his post-coital bliss, while Clementine used her wand to clean herself up. One last look? Sirius looked to his right, and he saw her slip on her dress with the aid of her wand. That arse… Fucking outstanding. And those legs… Sirius let out a whistle, and she shot him a saucy wink.

"Throw me my purse," Clementine said, and Sirius reached to his left and tossed her the purse.

She quickly opened it, pulled out a pink Potion, and drank it down. Safe.

"You should put on your trousers," Clementine smirked, her eyes fixed on his wet member. "Not that I mind, of course."

"Cute," Sirius said, and then he stood up and stretched his back. Merlin, I feel born again.

While she eyed his bare arse, Sirius found his trousers discarded under a nearby table. As he put them on, Clementine walked up and kissed the back of his neck.

"Thanks for the lovely time, Lord Black," Clementine whispered in his ear. "I'll be taking my leave now." Taking her leave? Of the Gala?

"Really?" Sirius turned around, only to see her sauntering towards the exit. This witch turns even the art of walking into a seductive game. Look at her hips!

"Well, we can't stay in here forever, now, can we?" she asked without turning around.

Sirius looked around the room, and he was almost certain that this was the Minister's Study. Sorry, Cornelius, you fat prick. Consider this payback for the Ministry's terrible handling of my case.

"Are you leaving the Gala?" Sirius followed after her as he tucked in his robes.

"Yes," she replied as she opened the door. Wait… Didn't she come here with her son? What's that kid's name? Blaise Zabini, right? "I've already made my donation, and I want to take a nice hot bath. Nothing feels better than a bath after sex, don't you agree?"

"Sure…" Sirius replied slowly. "Is your son going home with you?"

She shot him a slightly bewildered look, and then she laughed into her right hand. Sirius blinked at her, he was actually quite jarred by her odd behavior.

"Coming home with me?" she asked him as they made their way down some stairs. "He'll be returning to Hogwarts, of course."

"Oh, right…" Sirius nodded slowly. "So you'll be saying goodbye, then?"

"Why? He knows his way home," Clementine smiled and shook her head. "My gem is an intelligent boy, and he doesn't need me holding his hand."

Sirius hid his shock at her words, he hadn't expected such a response from a mother. Even my own mother, despite her hatred of me, made the effort of checking up on me. Odd… I get the impression that she doesn't really care about much besides sex and parties. I mean, I've heard the rumors about her, of course, and I know that she's engaged to some decrepit old bastard in Italy, but she wasn't so cold while we were shagging.

"This is where we part ways, handsome," she said as they neared the Ballroom's entrance. "I had a lovely time, and you definitely made the trip down to Britain worth it. Maybe I'll see you at another one of these events?"

"Won't you be married off by then?" Sirius asked, and she just smiled at him.

Sirius didn't know why, but he suddenly felt his skin crawl. She looks… evil. The way her lips are curling up, it looks unnatural. Without another word, Clementine Zabini turned around and left for the fireplaces. Sirius watched her leave, and when she flooed away, he rubbed his forehead. Bloody hell… I need a drink.

Without hesitation, Sirius entered the Ballroom and began navigating past the other guests. The French were here, which meant that Ron had been telling the truth. The kid had pulled off another miracle somehow, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder what the kid's secret was. Maybe he uses the Imperius Curse, and no one's figured it out yet? Nah, I'm being stupid.

As he made his way over to the refreshment table, a dark-skinned boy caught his attention. Sirius looked straight at Blaise Zabini, who was making himself a plate of food. What's with that look on his face? Is he… being picky? Something in the back of Sirius' mind told him to grab a drink, and then to be on his way. And yet, he found himself staring at the boy. Does he know that his mother's left the Manor? No, how could he? She was with me.

"You're Blaise Zabini, right?" Sirius walked up to the kid, who shot Sirius a bored look.

"Lord Black," Blaise greeted, and then he looked back to the food.

"Not to your liking?" Sirius asked.

"It's very… basic," Blaise replied. "Nothing bad, but nothing brilliant either. Not a single risk taken for fear of judgement." What an odd lad.

"That is our Minister's motto, I fear," Sirius smirked, and Blaise's lips twitched upwards. Go on, give us a smile.

"I'm sorry for being unwelcoming," Blaise looked to Sirius, and then he put his right hand forward. "Zabini, Blaise Zabini."

"Black, Sirius Black," Sirius decided to entertain the Old Ways. Family Name first, just as mother taught me. "You're a close friend of Ron's, aren't you?"

"I have that honor," Blaise gave a nod. Honor? I like this kid.

"Then that makes us friends too," Sirius told him, and much to his surprise, the boy went dead still. Did I say something wrong? "Kid, you alright?"

Blaise just stared at Sirius, and then he drew in a deep breath. Did he just… sniff… me? Blaise's expression turned cold, and he let go of Sirius' hand.

"My mother found you, then," Blaise put the plate away, while Sirius blinked at him. What? "You're wearing her perfume… I know because she's worn the same perfume ever since I was a toddler." Wait… Did he say that 'she found me'?

A horrible realization began to dawn on him, and he found himself hoping that it wasn't true.

"What did you mean by 'My mother found you'?" Sirius asked slowly, and Blaise looked utterly indifferent. She wouldn't… Would she?

"She told me why she was really here," Blaise looked towards the other guests, not a hint of emotion in his voice. Fuck me… "I assume that she's retired for the evening?"

"Um…" Sirius swallowed thickly. "Yeah… She went home…"

"Right, and you got another notch on your wand," Blaise looked anywhere but at him. "Enjoy your evening, Lord Black."

With that, the boy left his plate of food, and Sirius, behind without another word. Sirius watched him move through the crowd, and when he was out of sight, Sirius was yanked back to reality. Fuck… Who tells their kid something like that? And he knew that she went home without him? No… He just assumed it, so it's happened before. Sirius couldn't help but regret his mind-blowing encounter with Clementine Zabini now, and he rubbed his face harshly. Nice going, Sirius, you moron.

Sirius then looked to the bowl of punch, and it suddenly inspired a feeling of disgust in him. Fuck it, I don't want a drink. Sirius turned around in order to look for Harry, and he immediately spotted Ron staring at him.

"Pup, you scared me," Sirius breathed out, but Ron just stared right through him. Wait… Did he overhear? "Ron? Is everything alright?"

"Oh, everything is just fine," Ron said coldly, his pale blue eyes digging into Sirius' grey ones.

Sirius didn't know why, but he felt the need to shrink away from Ron's cold glare. He's got Sebastian's dead-eyed glare down.

"How are you enjoying-" Sirius started.

"Where is Harry?" Ron asked, and Sirius blinked at him.

"Um… I don't know, I was just about to go look for him," Sirius replied.

"You. Don't. Know?" Ron's left eye twitched. "So you mean to tell me that you, Harry's lawful guardian, left him, the Boy-Who-Lived, unattended in a Ballroom filled with people who were allies of the Dark Lord during the Great War?"

Sirius blinked repeatedly, he honestly felt his throat clog up because of Ron's tone. And he's right… Fuck, I didn't even think of that.

"I… I was just about to go look-"

"He's with Edward and Andromeda Tonks, near the crystal statue," Ron said, and Sirius nodded slowly. "Why is it that I know where your Godson is, while you're too busy fucking around like always?" Sirius' eyes-widened a little. "Go. Go and find him."

"I… um…"

"Go and find him," Ron ordered, his jaw clenching. "And if you leave his side again, I will put my foot in your arse."

"I'm still your elder-"

"Don't pull that shite with me," Ron stepped into Sirius' face, taking Sirius by surprise again. "And stay away from Blaise."

"I…"

"Go," Ron ordered, and Sirius quickly moved past him. Fuck me… He's worse than Sebastian and his mother put together…

Sirius moved past a few guests, and then he shot a look back towards Ron, who was now clearly searching for his friend. Sirius felt even guiltier now than before, and he couldn't help but remember Blaise Zabini's words. Another notch on my wand, he said. Fuck… No kid should think like that. Sirius shook his head clear, and he spotted Harry laughing with Teddy. Near the crystal statue, just like Ron said. Shite, I don't know why that makes me feel worse.

"Harry," Sirius tried to smile, and Harry grinned at the sight of Sirius.

"There you are!" Harry sighed out in relief. "Honestly, we've been looking everywhere for you."

Sirius shot a quick look to his cousin, who looked less than pleased at the sight of him. You too?

"Where were you?" Harry asked. Making a massive mistake.

"I was mingling around," Sirius lied. "Everyone wanted to have a look at the ex-convict."

"Oh," Harry frowned. "Yeah, I know how you feel… Everyone keeps staring at me, and most of those stares aren't friendly."

Sirius throat tightened as a thought entered his mind. What if Clementine was just luring me away in order to let someone here poison Harry? Or to kidnap him? I mean, half of the people in this Ballroom are former Death-Eaters, right? And now that the Dark Lord is back, they might be working directly for him. Sirius felt his head spin, and his hand clenched into fists on their own.

"Sirius, are you listening?" Harry tugged at his robes, and Sirius was ripped out of his thoughts. "Can I go back to Hogwarts? I really don't like it here. Neville's Gran is making him mingle, and he can't do that while I'm hovering about. Ginny got taken away by her parents, so I can't even approach her. Can I go home?"

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, and Harry gave a reluctant nod. He thinks I'm disappointed?

"Alright, let's go," Sirius put on a smile, and Harry beamed.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry let out a relieved sigh, and then he looked to Andromeda and Teddy. "Thanks for keeping me company. I'm sorry if-"

"Hush," Andromeda pinched his cheek. "Silly boy."

"He's pouting," Teddy laughed at Harry, who pulled his face away from another pinch.

"I don't pout," Harry denied, and then he looked to Sirius.

"Let's go," Sirius said, and then he guided Harry around the crystal statue. "Did you enjoy your night? Even a little?"

"I suppose," Harry shrugged, while Andromeda and Teddy followed after them. "Actually… I met a man name Horace Slughorn, and he told me a lot about my parents." Slughorn? He's here?

"What did he tell you?" Sirius asked, and Harry shot a not-so subtle look back.

"He claimed that my mum was friends with Snape," Harry whispered, and Sirius' gut tightened. Snape…

And just like that, Sirius was once again besieged by conflicting emotions.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Is it true?"

"Um… Yeah, sort of," Sirius replied, and Harry looked visibly shaken. Shite. "They were friends for a while, but then they had a falling out. It wasn't pretty."

"What did he do?" Harry asked, his expression darkening.

"Um… He called her a filthy name," Sirius replied awkwardly.

"He called her that?" Harry all but whispered. "Wow… So he's always been scum… Mum was right to dismiss him, then. Why was she even friends with someone like that?"

Sirius could feel another headache coming on, and when he shot Harry a quick look, his hands clenched into fists.

"He's… He said it in anger, I think…" Sirius said. Why the fuck am I defending him?

"That doesn't excuse him," Harry scoffed. "I hope he's suffering in that Hospital in France… Bloody git."

"That's enough," Sirius heard himself say, and Harry blinked at him. "I mean… You shouldn't hope for something like that… It's not right, Harry." The pot calling the kettle black, eh?

"Are you alright?" Harry cocked an eyebrow. "You're defending him?"

"No, I'm just trying to tell you that you shouldn't think such things," Sirius replied quickly. "Wishing suffering on others, even your enemies, can lead to mistakes… Mistakes that you'll regret someday…" Like me.

"Is he alright?" Harry looked back to Andromeda.

"I believe that Siri is trying to teach you an important lesson, Harry," Andromeda smiled at the boy. "Like a father would."

"Love…" Teddy sighed out, while both Harry and Sirius looked straight ahead. She had to say that, didn't she?

After a minute of walking in silence, Harry suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Sirius looked to his Godson.

"There's Ginny," Harry said. "I should say goodbye to her, right?" Pardon?

"You should," Teddy patted Harry's back. "Let her know that you're heading off, just in case she tries looking for you later."

"That makes sense," Harry nodded to himself, and then he looked to Sirius. "I'll be right back."

And just like that, Harry made his way over to the Weasleys, who were currently speaking with Sebastian and Mary. That girl looks bored to death.

"So… Who was she?" Andromeda asked, and Sirius looked to her.

"Who was who?" Sirius asked.

"The woman you were with," Andromeda clarified. "I can smell her perfume from here."

"Love, leave it," Teddy said soothingly, while Sirius just stared at his cousin.

"He needs a father, Siri, not another friend," Andromeda said, and Sirius looked back to Harry, who was now talking to Ginny. "You should know better, especially considering recent events."

"Andromeda, enough," Teddy said, and she decided to back off. "Sirius, make your donation before Harry gets back."

"Right…" Sirius pulled out his Gringotts Money Voucher, and then he handed it to a passing waiter. "Get that into the donation box, will you?"

"Certainly, Sir," the waiter gave a firm nod, and then he left for the donation box immediately.

"How is Severus?" Teddy asked. "Has he left his bed yet?"

"I… I don't know…" Sirius admitted. "I don't go near his room."

Andromeda and Teddy exchanged looks, but neither of them said anything. I can't fucking look at him… If I do, I'll go insane. How did he withstand so much torture from the Dark Lord, and still spit in the monster's face? I couldn't have done that… Could I? What about James? Or Remus? Fuck, life was so much easier when Snape was still Snivellus. Now I'm trying to lecture Harry on how to be a good person, which makes me a massive hypocrite.

"He's bringing her with him," Teddy cocked an eyebrow, and Sirius looked to see Harry and Ginny walking towards them.

"Hello, Sirius," Ginny greeted, and Sirius smiled at her. "Is it alright if I join you?"

"Not enjoying yourself?" Sirius asked.

"Not really," Ginny admitted. "Did you know that Ron is being named an International Diplomat to the French tonight?"

"He is?" Andromeda and Teddy asked together, and Sirius gave Ginny a nod.

"So everyone knew?" Ginny frowned a little, while Harry took a step away from her. "Everyone but me…"

"Who told you?" Sirius asked.

"Mum…" Ginny said, her voice a little bitter. Oh, I see.

"Let's be off, then," Sirius said, and they all began heading out.

As they neared the fireplaces, Teddy and Andromeda bid them all goodnight, and left for a separate fireplace.

"Sirius…" Harry said, and Sirius looked to him.

"Yeah, kid?" Sirius asked.

"Ginny wanted to go to the Burrow first, and I promised to go with her," Harry said, and Sirius looked to Ginny.

"I… um… I want to see my brothers, the twins," Ginny told Sirius. "Pandora and Xeno are there as well, so it's perfectly safe." She's not wrong, but is it a smart idea? What if they're up to something?

"Why do you want to see the twins?" Sirius asked.

"Sirius…" Harry groaned, while Ginny looked a bit awkward.

"I want to give them something…" Ginny replied. "Please?"

"Fine," Sirius agreed. "But I'll prepare the floo, and I'll be asking Pandora and Xeno about this tomorrow. After you see the twins, you will both floo to the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. Am I clear?"

"Yes…" Harry said a little petulantly, almost like a teenager who was embarrassed by their overbearing parent. Merlin, Andromeda's gotten into my head.

Sirius prepared the floo to the Burrow, and after the fire had blazed green, he watched the two Gryffindors go through it. Alright, Harry's out of the woods. Time to go home myself. Sirius began preparing a floo to Grimmauld Place, and once it was ready, he stepped through the flames and into his home. He immediately spotted Kreacher fixing a portrait of Harry on the wall, which took him by surprise.

"Kreacher?" Sirius called, and the old Elf jumped from surprise.

"Master is home," Kreacher turned around and bowed, while Sirius stared at the oil painting of Harry.

"What is that?" Sirius asked.

"Oh… It is a portrait of young Master Harry," Kreacher croaked. "Kreacher had it made with his own salary."

"Why?" Sirius asked, sounding a little too suspicious.

"It is a Tradition of the House of Black to have Family portraits on the walls," Kreacher replied, and Sirius realized that he had gotten rid of his Family portraits when he had first moved back in. Remus was really pissed when I did that. He told me that I'd regret it one day. "Does the portrait not please Master?"

Sirius looked it over, and he had to admit, Harry looked quite nicely painted. And the backdrop is Gryffindor scarlet to boot.

"It's… It's very nice," Sirius admitted slowly, and Kreacher bowed deeply. "Wait… You paid for it?"

"Kreacher felt it necessary… Master does not like Black Family Traditions, so Kreacher decided to spend his own money in case Master decided to throw it away," Kreacher replied. "This way, the Black Vault is not harmed by Kreacher's actions."

Sirius looked back to the painting, and he looked back to Kreacher. There it is again. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can't speak them. Just thank him already, Sirius. He took a Curse to the ear, and Merlin knows where else, just to help the Order. He even saved your life from that demented Vampire.

"Kreacher…" Sirius started, and the Elf awaited a command. "From now on, just use the Black Vault if you need money. Don't spend your salary… I'll also pay you back for the portrait, which I really like." You fucking coward, Sirius.

"Kreacher understands," Kreacher croaked.

Sirius stared at the Elf, the same Elf that had tormented him throughout his childhood, and he felt doubt seep into his mind. Maybe I was to blame for some of his hatred. I mean, I used kick him around often. And I even spiked his food with Bowel Clearing Potion multiple times. Sirius went to thank Kreacher, but a sudden thud from upstairs stopped him. Snape?!

Kreacher Disapparated with a loud crack, and Sirius immediately flew into action. Before even he realized what he was doing, he was flying up the stairs with his wand brandished. Within seconds, he burst into Snape's room, only to find the man sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. Kreacher was standing not too far away, but he had clearly been ordered to not touch Snape.

"Black…" Snape looked in his direction, there was genuine hatred and malice in his voice. "Figures that you'd show up now of all times…"

Sirius found himself staring at Snape's right eye, the man was nearly unrecognizable without his long black, greasy hair. Not to mention the missing parts of him.

"What are you doing? Did you fall?" Sirius asked, and Snape spat on the floor.

"Rot…" Snape looked down at his right leg, and Sirius immediately realized that Snape was drunk. There's an empty bottle of Firewhiskey by his bedside table… Fuck, who gave that to him? "I can't even get off the bed…"

Sirius blinked at Snape, who suddenly slammed his stump down on his right leg.

"I can't even move!" Snape yelled, his voice nearly tearing from pain.

Sirius wasn't going to lie, Snape's sudden outburst had made his entire body tense. What do I do? Wait… He's trying to leave the bed, and he's been drinking. He needs to take a piss, doesn't he?

"I'm useless…" Snape muttered to himself, his face losing all of its color.

"Kreacher, go get some food for Snape," Sirius ordered, and the Elf happily Disapparated.

"Planning to poison me, Black?" Snape looked back up, there was something broken behind his right eye. "I won't even stop you…"

"C'mon, I'll take you to the loo," Sirius stepped forward, and Snape flinched away from him.

"Don't touch me…" Snape said, but instead of being venomous, his voice sounded like a plea. I wish it were venomous, because this is far worse.

Sirius kneeled down by Snape's side, and he tried to get his arm around Snape's back.

"Are you enjoying this?" Snape suddenly grabbed Sirius' collar with his left hand. Merlin, his breath stinks. "You are, aren't you? The mighty Snivellus… Brought low…"

Sirius cringed at Snape's words, but that didn't seem to register to the drunk Potions Master.

"Do I look like I'm enjoying this?" Sirius asked, and Snape gazed into his eyes.

"No…" Snape let go of his collar.

"Just let me help you," Sirius said, and then with all of his strength, he managed to pull Snape and himself up. Fuck me… My back…

"I heard yelling," Sturgis stepped into the room, he was wearing his nightgown.

"Give us a hand, will you?" Sirius asked, and Sturgis quickly moved to Snape's other side.

Together, they managed to relocate Snape to the nearby toilet. The Potions Master was eerily quiet, and judging by his blank expression, Sirius knew that Snape had hit rock bottom. Being forced to accept my help has done it. It was either me, or pissing himself in his bed. Fucking hell, I actually feel bad for the poor bastard. I don't know what I'd do in his shoes.

"Did you give him the bottle of Firewhiskey?" Sirius asked once Snape was behind a closed door.

"No," Sturgis replied, and then he seemed to realize something. "Mr. Fletcher… I asked him to look after Professor Snape while I ran an errand for Mad-Eye…"

"That old crook," Sirius rubbed his forehead. I'm going to slap him.

"I'm sorry," Sturgis rubbed the back of his head. "In hindsight, it wasn't a smart move on my part."

"It's alright," Sirius drew in a deep breath, he had come to a decision. "Tomorrow, we're tossing all the alcohol out of this House."

"Pardon?" Sturgis blinked at him. Harry doesn't need a drunk, he needs a father. Plus, I shouldn't be allowed near that stuff. Not anymore.

"No more booze," Sirius spoke to himself.

"Your House, your rules," Sturgis gave a smile. "Personally, I like the idea."

"Of course you do," Sirius smirked a bit. "You're far too straight, mate."

"Alcohol doesn't mix well with war veterans," Sturgis said, and Sirius couldn't help but note that Sturgis sounded like he was speaking from experience.

"The first one?" Sirius looked to him.

"Trying to cope with nightmares," Sturgis replied, and Sirius nodded slowly. "Made it worse."

"Yeah, it does that," Sirius sighed. "We'll toss that shite tomorrow, alright? Together."

"Together," Sturgis gave his back a pat.

That's when they heard the door open from behind them, and Snape tried to step out on shaking legs. Sirius immediately tried to catch him, but Snape raised his left hand in Sirius' face.

"Don't…" Snape grit out, his face showing the immense pain he was in.

"Professor Snape…" Sturgis started, but Snape shot him a malevolent look.

"Step aside…" Snape released a shaky breath, and Sirius slowly moved aside.

One small step at a time, Snape began moving forward. The man's face was turning purple, and the veins in his forehead were bulging, but he kept trying to move forward. At first, both Sturgis and Sirius felt the urge to make Snape stop, but as the Potions Master kept moving forward, they found themselves astonished. There were thick tears running down the right side of Snape's face, and his entire body was trembling, but he kept trying to move towards his room without aid. Fucking hell, how is he doing this?

And then, almost halfway there, Snape fell forward with a dull thud. Sirius and Sturgis were by his side in an instant, and as they lifted him up, Snape's head dangled due to exhaustion. He was barely awake, and his breathing was quite labored, but at the same time, he looked almost pleased with himself. This fucking madman.

"Next time, Professor Snape," Sturgis smiled at the man. "We'll try this again tomorrow."

"Shut up…" Snape muttered, but Sturgis still looked quite happy with him.

As for Sirius, he felt oddly proud of Snape's efforts. It was the most surreal feeling that Sirius had ever felt in his life, and in a way, he felt like he was betraying James and Lily by feeling this way. And yet, he couldn't deny that he had found himself respecting Snape. And not just now, but when we found him in that cell. When he thought that he was speaking to the Dark Lord, and he told the bastard to rot. He accepted death before betraying the Order, or giving up Harry. What would James think of that? What would Lily think?

Sirius and Sturgis helped Snape into his bed, and the exhausted man passed out immediately. While Sturgis tried to tuck Snape under the blanket, Sirius found himself staring at Kreacher, who was holding a tray of hot soup.

"Is that Molly's recipe?" Sirius asked the Elf, who gave a nod.

"Lady Weasley and Kreacher have been sharing recipes in order to hone our craft," Kreacher told Sirius, who just blinked at him.

"He's not eating anything tonight," Sturgis said, and Sirius looked to a passed out Snape. Yeah, he's done for the night.

"Kreacher will throw this away, then," Kreacher said.

"No…" Sirius said quickly. "I'll… I'll eat it."

"Of course, Kreacher will leave the tray in Master's room," Kreacher croaked, and then he began walking towards the exit. Sirius, do it.

"Kreacher…" Sirius called, and the old Elf turned to face him. "Thank you… For what you did during the battle, and… Just… Thank you." Not smooth, Sirius, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"Kreacher lives to serve the House of Black," Kreacher said, his old lips twitching upwards.

And just like that, he left for Sirius' room.

"Good on you, Sirius," Sturgis smiled at him, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You're a pain in the arse, you know that, right?" Sirius asked, and Sturgis simply shrugged.

"I'll see you at breakfast?" Sturgis asked.

"Yeah, at breakfast." No more sleeping in for me. I can do better than this, I know it.

---

Ginny Weasley's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Burrow – Night)

An International Diplomat to the French…

Even Ginny couldn't deny that she was impressed with her brother, who had once again proven himself to be a Generation Defining Wizard. At the tender age of thirteen, Ron had gone to France and brought back thousands of Galleons worth of aid in order to help heal Magical Britain. When her mother had told Ginny about this, the older witch had an almost puzzling look on her face. It was a look that only a mother could give, a mix of genuine concern and absolute pride.

Ginny had never earned that sort of look from Molly Weasley.

Ginny was proud of Ron, but at the same time, her insides had twisted so painfully that she had nearly succumbed to tears. How was she supposed to catch up to Ron now? She couldn't, and she knew it. Everyone knew it. As they were approached by a multitude of people, Ginny felt like she was completely invisible. Every single person had asked if Ron was nearby, all the while ignoring her presence. Sure, they gave pleasantries, but other than that, they were only interested in meeting Ron.

And her parents had done little to make Ginny feel visible. They had droned on and on about Ron's never ending list of accolades, and people had listened with rapt attention and quick compliments. She had thought about leaving several times in order to find her friends, but Ron had ordered their parents to keep Ginny by their side. And so, Ginny was just stuck in a pit of conflicting emotions.

She was proud of her brother, and she wanted to congratulate him properly. She was feeling worse than ever about herself, and her lack of any notable accolades. She was overjoyed to see that Ron's mentoring of the first years had brought tears to their parents' eyes. She felt disgusted with the fact that Ron had tossed Hermione and Harry away like old socks when he was done using them. She was happy to hear that Ron had done more for the Restoration of St. Mungo's than any other Wizarding Family, and in doing so, elevated the Weasley Name. She had wanted slap Ron again when he had started barking orders at her, Harry, and their parents.

But all of this didn't compare in the slightest against her need to itch her hidden scars, which was a filthy habit of hers that surfaced whenever she began feeling small… Whenever she began feeling like the girl who was possessed by the Darkest Wizard of all Time due to her chronic stupidity.

She had been so stupid in trusting Tom, but at the time, he had made her feel so special. When he was acting like her friend, Ginny didn't feel lonely at all. She would constantly check her book bag in order to see the Diary, and whenever she did see it, she would smile to herself. In a disturbing sort of way, she had developed feelings towards the kind and caring Tom Riddle, who always listened to her and gave her sound counsel.

What a fool she had been.

She should have known better, and because of her massive blunder, her hopes for Hogwarts had been dashed to pieces. She wasn't popular. She wasn't excelling academically. She didn't have that many friends. Her brothers were famous all throughout the school, while she was a shadow on the wall. The people who did approach her only did so in order to ask for her brothers. The teachers didn't particularly like her. Even Luna, a girl who Ginny had assumed would be avoided by many, was always surrounded by friends.

Ginny was all alone, and even she realized that it was all her fault.

"Ginny?" came Harry's voice, and then he nudged her.

Ginny looked to him, and he was smiling at her.

"The twins?" Harry asked, they were standing in the Burrow's Living Room. "Don't you want to go see them?"

"Of course, it's why we're here," Ginny replied.

"Then why are we just standing here?" Harry looked a little baffled, and Ginny shook her head clear. We're standing here because I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself.

"I'll be right back," Ginny promised, and Harry gave her a nod.

Ginny walked out of the Living Room, and into the Kitchen, where she found Pandora and Xeno drinking some tea. Xeno noticed her first, followed quickly by Pandora, whose sharp gaze always intimidated Ginny.

"Ginny?" Xeno blinked at her, while his wife looked equally surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to retire for the night, but I wanted to see the twins first," Ginny replied, and both Lovegoods just stared at her.

"Did you come here alone?" Pandora asked. "Does Molly know where you are?"

"She does," Ginny lied. "And I'm not here alone, Harry is in the Living Room."

"Hello," Harry walked into the Kitchen at that, he was clearly listening in. "Sirius prepared the floo for us, and I'll be escorting Ginny back to Hogwarts right after this. I promise."

Ginny felt a little hot in the face at Harry's words, they had come a long way since their first meeting. He's actually my friend now. I'm friends with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Why do you want to see the twins?" Pandora asked. "Your mother forbid any visitors." Does she know that I'm lying? Is that why she's looking into my very soul?

"Love, it's fine," Xeno suddenly smiled, he always was an odd fellow. "I'm sure they could use a visit from their sister right now."

"Has mum confined them to their room?" Ginny asked, and the Lovegoods said nothing. Damn you, Ron. How could you do this to them?

"I'll… um… Be in the Living Room," Harry said awkwardly, and then he quickly left the room. Wow… He really is terrible with emotionally supporting people, isn't he?

"Just a quick visit, and then you need to go back to Hogwarts," Pandora smiled at her, and Ginny managed a smile back before she quickly ran up the stairs.

She didn't know why, but she was just done with people for the night. Maybe it was because she didn't feel worthy of being looked at? Or maybe it was because she was afraid that if she lingered too long, people would start asking after Ron again? All I want is to take off this dress, put on my pajamas, and go to sleep. And then, when I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to fly around for the whole day.

As she neared the twins' room, she fixed up her dress and hair in order to look at least a little happier than she was. Once that was done, she knocked on their door and waited. She heard shuffling from behind the door, and then it creaked open a little. They always do that. It's like they hate letting people see the inside their room. Fred head popped out of the small gap, and upon seeing her, he opened the door completely.

"Ginny?" Fred blinked at her, and then he looked her over. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" Ginny asked, it was good to see them again. They don't look half as miserable as I thought they would.

"Let her in," George called, and Ginny spotted him lying down on his bed with his legs sprawled out over the walls.

Fred stepped aside, and Ginny quickly made her way in. As Fred shut the door, Ginny took the opportunity to look around the room. Much to her surprise, it was completely barren. There were no Quidditch posters, no curios, no designs of Prank-Items on the walls, nothing… It's plainer than even my room. I at least have some Quidditch posters up, and a couple of cut outs of Wizard Models. The twins have nothing but orange walls.

"Mum threw away our posters of scantily clad women," Fred sighed in an exaggerated manner. "Merlin, I miss Belladonna's massive tits…" Tits?!

"Ahem," Ginny cleared her throat, and her brothers both sniggered at her discomfort. They shouldn't talk to me about such things. I mean, I don't tell them that I like to drool over Viktor Krum's abs.

"What brings you here, little sister?" George slid out of his bed. Just do it, Ginny.

"I want to apologize," Ginny replied, and the twins cocked eyebrows. "I yelled at you two when I thought that you had broken your word to me, and I didn't listen to what you had to say."

"Wait… You believe that we're innocent?" Fred asked, and she gave him a nod.

"I know now that Ron was behind everything, and that he put that barrel of alcohol in your room," Ginny told them. "I'm sorry for screaming at you, and for calling you two liars. You did stop after I asked you to, and I should've listened."

"Yes, you should have," George said, and Ginny shuffled her feet. "But… It's alright."

"It is?" Ginny looked up.

"Ron got us," Fred shrugged. "We might not be happy…"

"We're quite livid, actually," George added.

"But he got us," Fred said. "We underestimated the bastard, and he outmaneuvered everyone. He butchered our Hourglass…"

"Got us kicked out of school in shame," George added.

"Got us locked up in here," Fred went on.

"We lost all of our products, and money," George said.

"Lee got taken down with us," Fred frowned.

"Our reputation has been sullied," George frowned as well. "You know what, fuck that arsehole."

"Complete bastard," Fred glowered. They're so weird.

"The Gryffindor Team misses you," Ginny said, and the twins let out angry groans. "They're playing against Hufflepuff next Saturday, and apparently, everything depends on Harry. The substitutes aren't very good, and it's thrown the entire Team off balance. Well, everyone but the Seeker, who is sort of like a lone ranger."

"Harry will come through," Fred said, though he sounded quite unsure. "I mean, he's the best Seeker in the school."

"Diggory's not so bad himself," George sighed.

"Diggory can't hold a candle to Harry," Fred argued, completely forgetting that Ginny was even here.

"Um… I'm right here," Ginny frowned at them, and they blinked at her.

"Ginny? What are you doing here?" the twins asked.

"Haha," Ginny rolled her eyes, while the twins seemed pleased by her reaction. "Anyway… I wanted to give you something."

"A present?" Fred's eyes gleamed.

"For us?" George hopped in front of her.

Ginny held her small purse in front of George, and she felt her stomach churn. It took me so long to save up this much … But I want the twins to be happy. They've been through hell over the last few days.

"A purse?" George smirked. "Does it come with a dress?"

"There's money in here," Ginny said, and George blinked at her. "Twelve Sickles and nine Knuts, to be exact… It's not much, but it's everything that I've ever collected. I want you two to have it…"

George just stared at her, and Ginny couldn't help but notice that even Fred had gone dead silent.

"Gin…" George whispered, his eyes darting down to the purse.

"I know that mum and dad don't give you any money, and now that you've lost all of your products, you can't tinker with Joke-Items for your business…" Ginny said a little awkwardly, a small part of her wanted to keep her money. "It's not much, but it'll help you get started, at least. Please, take it." I only needed three more sickles for that purse that I saw in Madam Malkin's store… Now I have to start all over again.

George slowly pushed her purse to her chest, and when Ginny gave him a confused look, he pulled her into a hug. Um… What's he doing? Ginny wasn't going to lie, she didn't like being touched ever since last year, but right now, she was too confused to push George away.

"You should keep your money, Gin," George gave her a squeeze.

"We do appreciate the thought, but we can't accept your gift on principle," Fred smiled at his siblings.

"On principle?" Ginny spoke into George's chest.

"Big brothers don't take money away from their little sisters," George said as he rubbed the back of her head in a loving manner.

"Especially when said little sisters are trying to save up for something," Fred walked over, and then he hugged Ginny from the side.

"I want to help you," Ginny mumbled.

"And you have," the twins said together.

"The thought is more than enough for us, Gin-Gin," Fred assured her.

"If anything, I'm almost teary eyed because of it," George chuckled.

"What will you two do, then?" Ginny asked them. "You'll be forced to work at the Ministry by mum and dad, which will ruin everything for you. You'll be miserable."

"Trust us, that'll never happen," George pulled back, and then he gave Fred a nod.

Ginny was taken aback by this odd behavior, while Fred quickly moved to the side of his bed. What's he doing? Fred kneeled down, and then he pulled one of the floorboards out. And then, another. And another.

"Fred…" Ginny hissed. "Mum will kill you!"

"Calm down, little sis," Fred sniggered, and then he reached into the hole and pulled out a brown sack.

"That is one of our secret stashes of goodies," George told Ginny, who went still at the mention of it. Really? So it's true… The twins really do have special locations around the Burrow where they store their goods.

"One of?" Ginny looked to George, and he shot her a wink.

"Don't count us out so quickly," George ruffled her hair. "Ronnie may have injured us quite badly, but we're well and truly alive."

"But Charlie and Bill told me that you two have been sulking about… That you've lost your spirits," Ginny muttered.

"If we don't act so mopey, then mum will know that we're still in business," Fred grinned, and then he tossed her a Chocolate Frog.

Ginny caught it with a bewildered look on her face, and Fred began hiding the brown sack away.

"We're definitely going to struggle from now on, and we'll have to be tight-arses with our money, but there's still hope," George patted her cheek. "Please, don't worry about us like that."

"We're supposed to worry about you," Fred stood up, and Ginny nodded dumbly.

"So you won't work at the Ministry?" Ginny asked them.

"Never," the twins grinned, and Ginny felt her mood elevate immediately. They'll be just fine, then.

"Good," Ginny hugged George tightly, and he let out a laugh. "I'm really glad to hear that."

"This goes without saying, but you can't tell anyone about this, alright?" George said, and then he kissed the top of her head.

"I won't say a word, I swear it," Ginny promised, and then she let go of George and smiled at him.

"You should get going before Pandora creeps up here," Fred advised, and she gave him a nod. "Oh, and act sad while you leave. If she asks, tell her that we weren't really in the mood to talk."

"I understand," Ginny couldn't help but laugh.

"And hide that Chocolate Frog," George smiled widely. "Now, go on. We'll see you when you come back for the Break."

---

Tracey Davis' POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Boys' Room – Night)

"Ugh…" Tracey groaned from Theo's bed, she was so bored.

Malfoy spared her a quick look, but he didn't say anything. Maybe I should've gone to the Gala with Daphne. I'm so bored. So far, the only good thing that's come out of staying behind is lying down in Theo's bed. It smells just like him. Hold on… Am I being creepy? Ah, who cares? Tracey rolled over to her side, and she smelled the pillow with a guilty smile. I'm such a freak! Merlin, I'm just as bad as Daphne now. She enjoys sniffing Ron's scent wherever she can find it, she's told me so herself.

An idea occurred to Tracey, and she quickly slid out of Theo's bed. Which one first? She looked to Ron's bed, and then she looked to Blaise's. I'll start with Blaise, and save Ron's for later. He always smells so nice! Tracey nonchalantly made her way over to Blaise's bed, and then she hopped onto it. Hmm, that's nice. Fresh sheets, but the pillow smells like Blaise's cologne. What is that scent? It's not flowers, or any type of fruit. Tracey drew in a deep breath through her nose, and she smiled. Blaise is definitely the most handsome boy in our group.

"Davis… What are you doing?" Malfoy broke his silence, and Tracey felt her body tense for a moment.

"Oh, so you can speak?" Tracey tossed over to her side, her eyes locking onto Malfoy's.

"I can," Malfoy replied coldly. "Now… What are you doing?"

"Theo's bed was getting warm," Tracey lied calmly. "I like to occupy cold sheets, it feels better." I must sniff Ron's bed! Hehe.

"Right… But what are you doing here?" Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "Why aren't you in your own room?"

"I told you already," Tracey sat up. "Crabbe and Goyle were eyeballing you during Dinner, so I'm here to even the odds. And no, it's because I care about you, which I don't. I'm here because if those two louts knock you around, Ron will get angry."

"Oh, we mustn't displease the Emperor…" Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Tracey glared at him. Prick.

"Tell me, what will happen if those two come after you?" Tracey asked, and Malfoy shrugged. "They'll beat the piss out of you, and Ron will lose his temper. What will happen to Crabbe and Goyle then?" Malfoy didn't say anything, but she saw his expression soften a little. "Yeah… I'm here to stop any form of fighting from starting."

With that, Tracey dropped back onto Blaise's bed. Now let me be a pervert in peace. Tracey shot a quick look towards Ron's bed, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. I hope he hasn't washed his sheets. I want to be enveloped in his scent.

"What's the matter with Weasley, anyway?" Malfoy suddenly asked, and Tracey shot him a bored look. "Why is he so violent?"

"He's got issues," Tracey shrugged, she wasn't going to answer something like that.

"So do the rest of us," Malfoy countered, and Tracey frowned a little.

"You're welcome to leave whenever you want, Malfoy," Tracey looked up at the ceiling. "No one is stopping you." I mean, honestly, all you do is complain, despite Ron busting his arse to keep you around. At least be a little grateful.

Both of them went silent, and she could feel Malfoy glaring at her. There he goes again. He thinks that just because he can eyeball people, they'll be afraid of him. Whatever, why am I spoiling my own mood? I have one more bed to sniff. Tracey began to slide out of Blaise's bed, but Malfoy's voice stopped her.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Malfoy asked icily.

"Pardon?" Tracey looked to him, and she found him staring at his book. We all know that you've read through that book… Just get a new one.

"I said that you'd love me to up and leave, wouldn't you?" Malfoy spoke to his book.

"I would," Tracey admitted, and Malfoy's expression darkened. "But Ron likes you, and he's my friend, so I'll tolerate you."

"Weasley doesn't like me," Malfoy scoffed, he hated that he actually liked the sound of her words.

"Sure…" Tracey said sarcastically. "You two banter with each other quite often, you seem to work well together in Herbology, he's always keeping his eye on you in the common room, and you only ever speak when he's around. I don't about you, but that's almost romantic to me."

"Romantic?!" Malfoy glared up at her, and she smirked.

"Touchy, touchy," Tracey sniggered, and then she hopped out of Blaise's bed.

Malfoy watched her strut up to Ron's bed, and as soon as she jumped onto it, she breathed in his sheets. Jasmine and Sandalwood… Good God, I could smell these sheets for days. Malfoy was too busy frowning at her to notice what she was up to, which suited her just fine. I bet he really does have a six-pack hidden under those pesky robes. Pansy's right, we need to get him to take his shirt off when he does his exercises.

"Tolerate me…" Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Tracey looked at him. Stop ruining this for me, you git. I need to memorize these scents for later.

"I don't need you to tolerate me," Malfoy sneered at her. "If you have something to say, Davis, then do so."

"Why are you trying to start a fight with me?" Tracey put herself on her elbows.

"I'm not," Malfoy said in almost bratty manner.

"Yeah, you are," Tracey frowned. "Why don't you keep reading that book, Malfoy? I'll even pretend like you haven't read it a hundred times."

Malfoy clenched his jaw, and he threw the book aside rather harshly. For a quick moment, Tracey felt a little scared of him. He's still a boy, and he's a better Duelist than me. Wait… He'd never dare touch me. Ron would eat his liver if he hurt me.

"Why don't you get out of my room?" Malfoy asked.

"Your room? This is Ron, Blaise, and Theo's room," Tracey countered. "You're only here because Ron pulled strings for you."

"Ron this, and Ron that!" Malfoy snapped. "You all just worship him, don't you?! Every third word out of your damn mouths is about Weasley, and I'm sick of it! Get out!" What's his fucking problem?!

"No!" Tracey snapped back, though even she knew that she was lowering herself to his level.

"No?!"

"Yeah, no!" Tracey shot off of the bed. "And stop yelling at me!"

"You're the one who's yelling!" Malfoy yelled.

"Because you started it!" Tracey accused angrily.

"Real mature…" Malfoy suddenly lowered his voice, something that took Tracey by surprise.

"That's rich coming from a brat like you," Tracey regained her footing. "Spoilt rotten down to your core, and completely blind to the problems you cause others."

"Fuck off," Malfoy hissed.

"I mean, look at yourself," Tracey sneered back at him. "I wasn't even talking to you, and you found the first opportunity you could to jump down my throat. And for what? You just wanted to get a rise out of me, right?"

"Fine, then," Malfoy said. "Stop talking to me… As usual."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tracey put her hands on her hips.

"You know what it means," Malfoy looked away from her. No, I fucking don't. Am I a mind-reader now?

"Malfoy, just say what you want to say," Tracey frowned. "I don't like cryptic brooding from anyone, so just say it."

"You said that I only talk when Weasley is around, but maybe that's because none of you even acknowledge my existence," Malfoy told her, his pale cheeks becoming flushed from anger.

Tracey blinked at him, and when she narrowed her eyes, Malfoy once again looked away from her. Is he serious?

"And why would we acknowledge your existence?" Tracey asked, and Malfoy looked back at her. "None of us like you, Malfoy. We might not say it around Ron, but we figured that you already knew that."

"I know," Malfoy said bitterly, making sure to hide his hurt.

"It bothers you that we don't like you?" Tracey asked, and Malfoy didn't say anything. Great, now he's ignoring me.

Tracey walked up to his bedside, and he quickly took on a guarded look.

"Do you like any of us?" Tracey asked him, and once again, he said nothing. "No… You don't, and yet, you expect us to like you."

"Are you done?" Malfoy asked.

"No, you wanted to fight, right?" Tracey asked. "Why would we like you? You called Daphne a Blood-Traitor's slag to her face, and when Pansy gave you a deserved slap, you bloody tattled on her to her bitch mother. Ever since I've known you, all you've done is harass and bully other people. Even six months ago, you were tormenting students from every House. You were calling Muggle-Borns 'Mud-Bloods' with a happy grin on your face, all the while parading around with your thugs. I saw you shoving first years around with people twice their size, and you didn't care one bit if they got hurt. So why should we like you?"

"I… I've…" Malfoy started, but then he stopped.

"You've changed?" Tracey provided, and Malfoy kept quiet. "Sure, I won't deny that you've been on your best behavior lately, but I'll also point out that if you weren't a pariah in this school, you'd still be an A-Grade bastard. Am I wrong?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied, but they both knew better. "You don't know a thing about me."

"I know quite a bit," Tracey assured him. "The other girls have told me plenty about you, and don't forget that I've known you since we were eight years old. Do you remember our first meeting?" Malfoy looked down at his lap. "You refused to shake my hand after I told you about my mum. You even joked about me 'befouling the air' with my existence. You've given all of us plenty of reasons to not like you, so don't sit there and bitch to me about how hard you have it. I don't fucking care. I'm not Ron, and I'll slap the shite out of you without a second thought."

With that, Tracey made her way back to Ron's bed, and she fell on it with a loud huff. He asked for it, Tracey. Don't feel guilty. Don't feel guilty at all.

---

Twenty Minutes Later

She was feeling guilty…

She was feeling really fucking guilty. Malfoy had a track record of being a tosser, but lately, even she couldn't deny that he was changing. He was far more subdued now, but also much more observant as a result. He didn't belittle people, nor did he constantly bring up his Family's status and wealth. He was still cold, and often snarky and rude, but he was tolerable now. And Ron seems to genuinely like his company. Ugh… Pesky conscience.

Tracey slowly slid out of Ron's bed, and she looked over to Malfoy, who was now lying down under his blanket. I can't really see his face from here. Damnit, Tracey, just go and apologize. You had no right to throw his old faults in his face, nor should you have threatened him. Tracey dragged her feet over to his bedside, his back facing her. Is he asleep?

"Malfoy," she nudged him. "Malfoy, are you awake?"

"What?" Malfoy asked without looking back at her.

"I'm sorry," Tracey apologized, and Malfoy looked back with an odd look. He looks pissed, and confused, at the same time.

"What?" Malfoy asked again, and Tracey fought the urge to frown at him. Don't make this even more awkward for me, you tosser.

"I am sorry," Tracey apologized again. "I shouldn't have been so… harsh… with you. You have changed, and I shouldn't claim to know what you'd be like if circumstances were different. I'm not a Seer."

Malfoy just stared at her, but some of the anger in his face was slowly vanishing. Right, I'll be on my way then. I don't even feel like taking advantage of the fact that the girls aren't here tonight. Shame… It's been ages since I had some alone time. Tracey was about to leave, but Malfoy suddenly sat up and began staring at her.

"Do you feel pity for me, is that it?" Malfoy demanded, and Tracey blinked at him. "You think your words got to me?"

"I have no earthly idea if they did," Tracey admitted. "But I felt bad for saying what I said, so I apologized. You don't have to accept my apology, but don't try and start another fight at least."

"You felt… bad…?" Malfoy asked slowly, and Tracey let out a long sigh.

"Yes, I felt bad," Tracey told him. "Normal people feel bad when they say cruel things, and my parents taught me to own up to my mistakes. So… I'm sorry."

"And it helps?" Malfoy asked, which actually threw her off balance. Wait… What?

"What are you on about?"

"Does apologizing make you feel less guilty?" Malfoy asked her, a sudden seriousness in his face. "Even if the other person doesn't accept it?"

"Well, yes," Tracey replied, trying her best to hide her bewilderment. What's going through his head right now? "The fact that you've made the effort of owning up has its own rewards… You don't have to accept my apology for me to know that I've done the right thing."

"Right," Malfoy muttered to himself, and Tracey decided to be on her way. His sudden change in demeanor is fucking scaring me.

Tracey turned around and began heading for the door, she did feel a little better now.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy called out, and she slowly turned back around. What?

"Excuse me?" Tracey stared at him.

"I'm sorry for… Well, I'm sorry for every time that I made you feel small, or alone," Malfoy apologized rather awkwardly, he wasn't even looking at her. Am I hearing things? "I'm also sorry for being less than civilized when we met. You came to my Manor because Greengrass told you that you'd find friends there, and I turned everyone against you. Oh, and I'm sorry that we made fun of you and threw things at you. I'm also sorry that I ordered Crabbe and Goyle to push you down those stairs when we were nine-"

"Are you going to apologize for every single thing that you're guilty of?" Tracey asked, and he shot her an embarrassed, and slightly angry, look. "You can just say that you're sorry… That's all." Wait a minute. "Malfoy…" No way. "Have you… never… apologized before?" It can't be.

"Of course I have," Malfoy spat out, and Tracey raised her hands in surrender. "It's just…" he trailed off.

"You've never meant it?" Tracey asked, and Malfoy looked down at his lap with a furrowed brow. WOW!

"How does someone go thirteen years without genuinely apologizing to someone?" Tracey walked back to his bedside, and Malfoy didn't seem to have an answer for that. "Wow…"

"Are you done turning me into a joke?" Malfoy glared up at her.

"Don't be so defensive…" Tracey said calmingly. "I'm just a little… shocked… That's all."

Tracey then sat down on the corner of his bed, something that made his tense immediately. Sadly for him, Tracey was too busy with her shock to really notice his discomfort.

"Well?" Tracey asked.

"Well, what?" Malfoy frowned at her.

"How have you never apologized to someone?" Tracey asked. "What about your parents?"

"I've apologized to them, but never really meant it," Malfoy replied very slowly. "It was just a way to get out of trouble…"

"You should write a book," Tracey said, and Malfoy gave her a deadpan look.

"Is everything a joke to you?" Malfoy asked.

"I'm just bewildered," Tracey shook her head. "Thirteen years, and not a single genuine apology. Wait… Does that mean that I'm your first?"

Malfoy blinked at her, and that's when she realized what she had just said.

"Not that way, pervert," she said quickly, and Malfoy looked at the bedpost behind her. "So… You're really sorry?"

"Yes," Malfoy all but whispered, making sure to not look at her.

"Why?" Tracey couldn't help but ask.

"You just said that if I feel guilty about something, then I should apologize," Malfoy reminded her.

"You feel guilty over… me?" Tracey asked, she needed to get a camera. "Why?"

"You're starting to annoy me," Malfoy looked her dead in the eyes.

"I just want to know," Tracey admitted, this was too interesting to let go.

"I… Weasley mentioned that my past behavior might have led some people to feel miserable, or lonely," Malfoy looked down at his lap. He really doesn't want to make eye contact, does he? "I know what that's like now…"

"Not fun, is it?" Tracey asked, and he didn't say anything in response. Yeah, he knows. Before he joined up with us, he was getting kicked around by the entire school.

"Did you feel like that?" Malfoy asked without looking up. "Because of me?"

"Yes…" Tracey admitted, despite feeling the urge to lie in order to save face. "I spent two days in tears after our first meeting…" Should I forgive him? I mean, I don't even think about those old days anymore. The group is so close and loving now that I don't feel miserable at all.

"I see…" Malfoy rubbed his arm awkwardly. "I'm sorry…"

"You really have changed," Tracey heard herself say, and Malfoy drew in a sharp breath. "I accept your apology." Malfoy looked at her. "But only if you accept mine. You can't be the only absolved one, which would be unfair."

Malfoy blinked at her, and then he nodded slowly.

"So we're both sorry, and we both accept each other's apologies?" Tracey asked, and Malfoy nodded again. "Peace?"

Tracey put her hand forward for a shake, and Malfoy stared at it.

"Peace," he said softly, and then he shook her hand. I'm shaking hands with a remorseful Draco Malfoy. The end times are upon us. "Now what?"

"Do you feel better?" Tracey asked him.

"Kind of," he looked her in the eyes. "I mean, not really…"

"Maybe some sleep will help?" Tracey suggested.

"Maybe," Malfoy whispered to himself. "Good night, Davis."

"Good night, Malfoy," Tracey got off of his bed, and then she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Don't do that," Malfoy sighed out.

"I am Draco Malfoy's first!" Tracey laughed, and Malfoy immediately curled up with his back towards her. "Hey! That was funny!"

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Night)

Blaise was a slippery little bastard.

Ron had overheard just enough to figure out that Sirius had done what Sirius does, and Ron also knew Blaise enough to know that his friend was quite bothered by his mother's actions. I mean, she's getting married soon, and yet, she only came here to sleep with Sirius. And Sirius actually went through with it? What the fuck? Did he not know that she is engaged? And poor Blaise… That comment about his mother being just another notch on Sirius' wand was quite hard to listen to.

Ron looked around the ballroom, but there were too many people, and too much noise, for him to make sense of anything. Did he slip out into the Gardens? Off in the distance, he spotted Theo and Millie having a chat with a French Family, and not too far away from them were Daphne and Pansy, who too were speaking to a French Family. No Blaise though. Maybe they saw him? Ron began walking towards them, but a familiar voice stopped him mid-stride.

"Ron!" John called out, and Ron looked to see the Fawleys approaching him. "Mum! Dad! This is Ronald Weasley, he's a mate of mine!"

"Johnathon, don't use the word 'mate'," his mother chuckled. "Call him your friend and ally, as is our custom."

"Oh, sorry," John smiled at Ron, who smiled back at the Fawleys.

Much like John, Lord Fawley was a lanky man with brown hair, while his wife was only slightly shorter than her husband, and rather skinny.

"Lord and Lady Fawley, it is an honor to meet you," Ron gave a polite nod. Now, please, help me find my wayward friend.

"The honor is all ours, Mr. Weasley," Lord Fawley shook Ron's hand firmly. "My son has sent us so many letters about you."

"He has?" Ron smiled at John, who looked rather annoyed with his father. Is that a blush?

"Ron, there you are," came his father's voice, and Ron looked back to see his parents approaching him. "Sebastian was looking for you, and he told us to send you to him if we found you." Lord Greengrass?

"Arthur, you're interrupting them," Molly gave a sorry smile to the Fawleys, who just smiled at the Weasleys.

"It's quite alright," Lady Fawley assured them. "We just wanted to thank Ronald for taking Johnathon under his wing in Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" Arthur looked at the Fawleys. "But aren't all Fawleys sorted into Hufflepuff? I mean, I heard that it was your Family's Tradition to-"

"Arthur," Molly smiled at her husband, though her tone was rather stern and cold.

"Oh… Right," Arthur blinked at John, who managed an awkward smile at best. Do all Weasleys enjoy the taste of their own feet? Is this like a Family Curse of some sort?

"I'm happy to mentor John, he's a great lad," Ron decided to take over. "He was a little shy early on, but he's really putting in his best effort lately. I'm very proud of him."

"Hear that, son?" Lord Fawley patted John's back, who looked almost bashful because of Ron's words. "He's been worried that he's not impressing you enough."

"Merlin… Dad, can you stop?" John frowned at his father, who just grinned at him. They're a close Family, even I can see that.

"He impresses me just fine," Ron chuckled. "Except for his Transfiguration grades…" Those make me cringe. But hey, at least he's not as bad as Astoria, who is intent on failing her subjects if I don't help her.

"I'm working on that," John defended himself.

"So Ron tutors you as well?" Molly asked John as she rubbed Ron's back. "A girl named Lysandra approached us before, and she was quite talkative. I didn't know that you mentored first years, Ron. You should've told us."

"I don't do much," Ron assured his mother. "I just point them in the right direction, that's all."

"And yell when we don't listen," John muttered under his breath.

"That happened once," Ron said, while his parents looked a little sorry. "And in my defense, casting Stupefy in a straight line isn't that hard."

"Well, we're really glad to finally meet you," Lady Fawley patted Ron's cheek, and Ron couldn't help but note that she had boney hands."I was overjoyed to hear that John wasn't alone in Slytherin, and that he has been making lots of friends."

"He's clever," Ron smiled at his first year. "That alone will get him far in Slytherin."

"That's good to hear," Lord Fawley admitted. "I was quite worried for him after his Sorting, but knowing that he's found his place is a soothing thought. I can't thank you enough, Mr. Weasley."

"Please, think nothing of-"

"Hem, hem!" came a sickly sweet voice from behind them, and Ron slowly turned around to see who had interrupted him.

A short, squat woman, who was wearing a blindingly pink cardigan, stood behind the Weasleys, her broad, flabby face split by a wide smile. In all honesty, she looked like a large, pale toad, and Ron felt weary of her because of her greedy, bulging eyes, which were fixed on him.

"Mr. Weasley," she spoke in a girlish, breathless voice. "I have been looking forward to meeting you. And here you are, at last."

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there it is! The Gala will continue on in the next chapter! I mean, we haven't had any dancing yet!

Oh, and Queen Bitch is here... Yay...

See you guys on next Thursday! (I know that it's a week, but I've got some big stuff happening right now in my life)