34 – Like Water and Oil?
Blaise Zabini twirled a firewhisky glass in his hand, mentally berating himself as he was aware that the gesture would heat up his drink. Merlin knew that Blaise was flexible enough to adapt to different situations, but never to waste of good firewhisky.
He drank it all in one gulp and then passed the tip of his tongue across his lips to capture the last drop that dared to escape him - or perhaps it was to destabilise his interlocutors, he had not made up his mind on the matter yet. He smiled felinely at the other two present in his office, cataloguing all the information he could gather about them.
Information is power, he mentally repeated his mantra just out of habit. The idea was already so ingrained in him that he did not need any more reminders of it.
He had listened to the story they told him, absorbed every detail. Assessing exactly where they wanted to get to and why they had come to his house.
Even though the two other people did not know it yet, Blaise was aware that he had achieved another victory.
He always succeeded, after all.
However, it was not yet time to reap the laurels. For now, he would limit himself to officially sealing an agreement, and only then remain in his true comfort zone, outlining strategies, identifying pressure points, seeking advantages.
Miles and Isla Rosier sat in the seats opposite him and were as different of each other as two siblings had any right to be. He had delicate features, exuded a fragility that Blaise found almost irritating and had nervous gestures, as if he expected a tragedy every five minutes. She, in turn, was firm, had angular features and exuded pride in her confident movements. Aside from their dark hair and their desire to protect their family name, the siblings had nothing else in common.
Each was attractive in their own way, indeed, but it was not the differences between the two that Blaise was interested in, but rather their common goals. In this case, they were both deeply interested in getting rid of a girl whom their father - a discredited Death Eater with alcoholic tendencies - had been stupid enough to get pregnant.
Why do people insist on letting their hearts guide their decisions, Blaise had to restrain the urge to roll his eyes.
Obviously, they could get rid of the girl with their own hands and forget about the inconvenience that another heir – a Muggle heir – could cause in the Rosier clan.
They were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the last British families that were still 'truly pureblood', with ties to several other secular families; Draco's own maternal grandmother, if his memory served him correctly, was a Rosier who had become Black by marriage.
Yes, Blaise realised, they have the power to get rid of the girl.
Whether they would do so, however, was an entirely different matter.
There were certain...obstacles. First, under no circumstances could they raise suspicions and questions like "What is the Rosiers' interest in getting rid of a Muggle who has no idea that wizards exist?".
An investigation would bring to light the family patriarch's love affair with someone who meant less than scum to conservative purebloods. For starters, they would lose control of the Department of Magical Transportation – which the Rosiers controlled in its entirety. Then, their influence and prestige would cease, everyone would turn their back on them. And it would be the end of the family before Voldemort's eyes.
Second, no one dealt with these unwanted issues like Blaise Zabini. With subtlety, never brutally. With discretion, away from scandal. And, above all, efficiently.
"Consider your request granted." Blaise finally said to the siblings in his monotone tone and showed off his most generous smile. "It'll be a pleasure to help you."
Isla squinted at him as if measuring the veracity of his words, but it was Miles who spoke in his melodious voice.
"You need to understand the gravity of the situation and…" He swallowed nervously. "I wouldn't want any eventual dirt tarnishing our family name."
Right, no violent deaths or suspicious disappearances, Blaise restrained the urge to scoff at the need for such a guarantee. What do people think I am? A Death Eater?
He would simply be forced to invent a story in Rosier's name, perhaps use a couple of memory spells and 'suggest' - through an indecent amount of money - that the girl should start over in another place, preferably far away from England.
Without much effort, Blaise held back any emotion he might have expressed and stood up, clearly ending the conversation.
"There's no chance of your family being associated with this. Nor risk of losing your control over the Department of Magical Transportation due to... your father's actions." He approached Miles and, by way of farewell, held out his hand to the other man to shake. When he reciprocated, Blaise brushed his fingers against the insides of Miles' wrist, an almost imperceptible caress – subtle, as he had noticed Rosier liked. "You can trust me, Miles."
He felt Miles shiver at the touch – at the look – and he almost smiled when he confirmed his suspicions. One is already won over.
Isla got up, taking the cue to leave the office and headed towards the door, followed by her brother and Blaise. At the door, she turned to her host. "How can we repay you, Zabini?"
Blaise waited for Miles to walk past him and turn his back, to hold Isla's hand firmly – exactly the way she liked it – and place a soft kiss on her palm. "I will know how to demand from you at the right time, Isla. And it'll be a real pleasure."
At least for me, Blaise rationalised. That I'll have you both in my hands for any eventuality.
Isla's eyes widened in surprise, but then she seemed to visibly relax feeling the light pressure of Blaise's lips on her hand. She blushed and smiled shyly – the only subtle gesture Blaise had ever seen from her – and removed her hand, for the first time comfortable with the man in front of her.
Another one guaranteed. Blaise's smile – not the real one, but the one that enchanted wizards and witches – widened.
When Miles turned to look for his sister, Zabini was already escorting her to the door. They said goodbye politely and Blaise returned to his office, sitting at his desk.
The smile died on his face and gave way to his true expression, stoic, thoughtful, almost immutable.
Away from people, Blaise could be who he really was.
"Two little siblings came to play in the Boggart's hideout..." He reflected aloud, rhythmically drumming his fingers on the desk.
After a moment, he poured himself another shot of firewhisky, satisfied with the way things were going.
A sixth sense – one which Blaise rarely neglected – told him that, politically, the more help he had, the better he would be in the times to come.
Just as he was about to take a generous sip of his drink, an undefined silver shape burst through his window, abruptly pulling him out of his thoughts. Drops of firewhisky fell onto his suit, but for once, Blaise did not care about the imperfection in his elegant appearance.
A patronus?, Blaise squinted as he recognised the shape of an animal. Few people he had contact with could perform such a spell.
In the form of dragon...?
Before he could do anything - even move - a drawled voice he knew too well manifested through the materialization of the animal. Blaise was only able to be still and hear it.
And hear he did.
When the spell transmitted its message and vanished into thin air as if it had never been there, his hands were shaking. Blaise hated that feeling.
"Well, well, well." He sighed sadly, resting his chin on his hand. "If this isn't the situation that I tried to avoid the most during my life."
Then, getting up from the chair and stretching his legs as if he were going to do a routine physical exercise, Blaise prepared to contact the Rosier mansion through the fireplace. They had probably already apparated there.
Isla or Miles, Miles or Isla?, he asked himself mentally, thinking about who would be more susceptible to his charm and more easily manipulated according to his interests.
As he invoked his choice and a familiar face appeared in the fireplace, Blaise smiled as rapturously as he could – that meant something, after all – and spoke softly.
"Isla, my dear, your absence is already deeply felt in my home. I couldn't wait a minute longer to talk to you."
Isla, who was stronger, more direct and, most of the time, scarier than her brother, hid a fragility and a desire for attention to be adequately explored, Blaise could feel it.
"Oh," was all she could say at first, in a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. "What do you want from me?"
Blaise did not even blink.
"Retribution for what I'm going to do for your family." He stared at her, knowing that he had already said what he wanted and now needed to soften it. To convince. "And a promise, that we'll see each other as soon as it is convenient."
Isla Rosier smiled shyly once again. "How can I help you, Zabini?"
Blaise took a deep breath, his smile faltering for a millisecond in a gesture that would go unnoticed by anyone who had not known him for years.
"I need Portkeys completely out of Ministry records, untraceable even by your department."
"What makes you think I would have access to things that are strictly forbidden by the Dark Lord?" Isla asked in a more defensive tone.
Blaise rolled his eyes, hoping his expression was clear even through the fireplace.
"What makes me sure – not think – that you have access to what I want is simply the fact that I am who I am." He said seriously and introspectively, in a rare demonstration of his true nature.
There was no need to say anything more. It was commonly agreed that Blaise Zabini had information that no one else had and that it was best not to doubt it.
Isla sighed, half resigned and delighted. "How many?"
"As many as you can in the next few…" Blaise looked at the clock on the wall, making successive calculations in his mind. "five minutes."
"Such a hurry, I can only assume there's a woman involved…" Isla covered up a spark of jealousy with a joke she wasn't used to make. "Intending to save some damsel in distress or run away with her?"
"Let's say it's a little bit of both." He responded in the same light tone - internally counting the seconds - and smiled at the woman in the fireplace, already feeling the taste of the next lie on his tongue. "Nothing that shades you, Miss Rosier."
She nodded, returning the smile. "We'll speak again in ten minutes." And then the call was cut.
Blaise took a deep breath.
During this entire conversation, the only thing he could think in frustration was 'Why do I insist on letting my heart guide my decisions?'.
Ginny drifted pleasurably between consciousness and unconsciousness, in the state of those who are about to fall into a deep sleep. She was in the most comfortable living room in the Malfoy Manor, with Aries in the stroller next to her armchair and James playing with his toy wand at her feet, while Narcissa read quietly in next to them. The peaceful setting encouraged her state and she let her mind float as it pleased.
She was so peaceful with her head resting on a pillow and one foot nestled under one thigh while the other swayed rhythmically against the plush carpet, that sleep didn't take long to claim her.
Then she surrendered completely. And she dreamed.
She was back at Hogwarts, on the day of the Fatidic Battle. She was dirty and sore and scared, but not completely unprotected because… because Draco was there. And she wanted him to stay right where he belonged, with her. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, stay by his side.
It was as if the twenty-five year old Ginny was in the body and consciousness of the seventeen year old Ginny.
She felt like screaming at them to run away, but everything she said was a weak, pale representation of what she actually meant to say. "They can help you. Everyone can have a second chance. You just need to start again."
Draco had his back to her and it was horrible not being able to see his expression. Ginny felt an almost desperate urge to have something more concrete than the drawled voice, to reassure herself that he was really there, with her.
"I don't mingle with you and your ilk, Weasley. Both by my will and yours. Like water and oil, isn't it?"
Like water and oil, isn't it?
Water and oil?
Were they really that different, that unmixable?
The Ginny in the dream, the one who did not have the same conception of the world as the real Ginny and didn't understand the nuances and life's grey shades, rebelled with all her strength. "Why, Malfoy, I can't believe you really still value things so… so stupid! Even after this bloody war, after everything Voldemort's done to you and your family!"
And the real Ginny get sorrowful, for herself, for her ignorance at the time, for Draco, for their families and their losses.
Still on his back turned to her, dream Draco's chin lifted haughtily, just as the real Draco had done, so many years ago.
"These things, as you put so self-righteously, are the only ones I have left to believe in, Weasley. And it's for my family that I must believe them."
For my family.
Ginny was startled to wake up, agonized by her own intolerance and intransigence at the time. She had been blind to the fact that Draco had always been extremely faithful to his family, just as she was to hers. And somehow, that seemed important now. Very important.
But why?, she thought, frowning.
"Bad dreams, Ginevra?" Narcissa looked up from the book she was reading, drawing Ginny's attention to herself.
"Not exactly..." Ginny shook her head, waking up completely. "They were memories... Of situations that I couldn't fully understand at the time." She became thoughtful and ran her hand through her hair, as if she wanted to get rid of that uncomfortable feeling. "It seems that the past sends us messages through memories."
"The past is just a prologue." Narcissa commented casually, running her fingers lightly over the pages of the book. "It is up to us to take possession of the pen to write new chapters."
Ginny smiled softly, not knowing whether Draco's mother wanted to convince herself or her daughter-in-law to let go of the past and move forward. However, she couldn't disagree with the words: she had long since passed the stage where she let others write the chapters of her life.
Seeing that she had woken up, James approached Aries' stroller and gave the toy wand to his brother to hold. The baby, in turn, held the object in a pale, chubby hand, observing it with his typical silent curiosity.
"When is he going to start talking, mum?" James asked Ginny, pointing at his brother.
"In a few months, probably." Ginny responded by running her hand over the baby's face, who soon forgot James' wand to hold his mother's hand. "He's not even six months old yet, dear."
James looked frustrated. "He's always so quiet."
"To make up for the fact that you're a chatterbox," Ginny joked and pinched James' nose with her free hand, and James laughed at her.
"On a smaller scale, Draco was a bit like that too." Narcissa looked at the baby thoughtfully. "The power of blood is truly the only incorruptible one."
Ginny was ready to change the subject – she did not like conversations involving 'power' and 'blood' around her children - when she saw James furrow his dark eyebrow, visibly with an idea forming in the back of his mind.
Ginny's stomach tightened because one did not need to be very clever to deduce what was coming next. And she knew that the situation was even more critical since Harry's return. She hadn't heard from him since the encounter in her shop, but she was aware that sooner or later this would be a reality that she and Harry – and Draco – would have to face.
"James, how about-" She tried to distract the boy from the inevitable question.
"Aries is quiet, just like Mr. Malfoy." James did not let himself be interrupted, thinking out loud. "I'm energetic - Mrs Malfoy says I am." He looked at Narcissa for confirmation, but she only looked at him with a rare mix of sympathy and pity that did not escape James's astute eyes. "I'm energetic, just like..."
"Just like me, James." Ginny couldn't help her voice from sounding tired.
James opened his mouth to retort – he was getting tired of those evasive, nebulous answers. He was growing. And understanding that there was something wrong.
However, nothing came out of his mouth because, at that exact moment, Mr. Zabini burst out of the fireplace, startling his mother and making Mrs. Malfoy raise an eyebrow that James had learned to translate as "where are your manners, young man?"
"Blaise!" Ginny put her hand over her heart, torn between the shock of seeing Blaise so dishevelled and the relief of not having to proceed with that conversation with James.
"Thank Merlin you're all here." He paced the room like a feral, caged animal, thinking to himself and ignoring the astonished looks he was receiving. "I managed to get in, that's good."
Narcissa rested her book on her lap calmly.
"I was under the impression that the two facts wouldn't come as a surprise to you, given that we actually live here and Malfoy Manor has direct communication with your house." Narcissa said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "This does mean you don't need additional permissions to come in here."
"No, Mrs. Malfoy." Blaise replied distractedly, checking the pockets of his robe for the objects that would activate the Portkeys. He knew he must be putting on quite a show; seeing him nervous was the equivalent of seeing Draco reciting monologues about the colours that would be fashionable next season. "This means that the Protection Charms at Malfoy Manor have not been activated, that is, that no one dangerous to your family has approached here. Yet."
Narcissa opened her mouth to ask the question that was written all over her cold expression, but it was Ginny who spoke.
"Care to explain yourself, Blaise?" She crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture that Blaise knew she did when she was starting to get annoyed.
Finally pulling himself together, Blaise looked at the two women in the room, weighing his possibilities. He could not explain everything now, not when he himself did not know the details of what had happened. He would need to convince them.
However, it would not be like convincing other people. Narcissa Malfoy and Ginny Weasley were two forces of nature and would not be easily fooled by his charm or veiled threats.
He would have to play their game and, being two fiercely loyal women, Blaise could give them no less.
Zabini sighed, lowering all his reservations, all his masks."Ginny, do you trust me?"
"Yes." Ginny did not hesitate to reply, understanding the gravity of the situation when she heard her name uttered by Blaise.
"Then you know I'd never do anything to hurt you." He buried his gaze on her, making her understand everything he could not – must not - say with words.
Narcissa fidgeted uneasily in her armchair like a mother sensing danger for her child; whether it was because she had viewed Blaise as a threat to Draco's marriage or because his sudden appearance meant that there was something very wrong with her son, Zabini could not say.
"What do you need, Blaise?" Ginny asked determinedly
"I need you not only trust me, but trust what I say." This time his intense gaze passed over Narcissa and James too. "And I need you to leave this Mansion in three minutes."
Ginny rocked Aries in her arms as she stared in astonishment at the scene in front of her. The baby hid his face in her neck, clearly uncomfortable with the number of people around them staring at him with unrestrained curiosity.
She was at the Shell Cottage, comfortably sitting on a large sofa, facing practically all of her family and friends.
Merlin, she had dreamed about this so much and now... Now she could not even utter a word, looking at everyone and feeling cornered, out of her element.
Maybe it was the events of the night that left her that way, but the truth was that, no matter how coward it sounded, Ginny just wanted to go to her room at the Manor and lock herself there until she could understand what was happening.
It seemed that her arrival at the Resistance hideout had triggered some red alert sign and everyone was there now.
Waiting for what, she could not say...she was as in the dark as they were.
Her father, her mother, Bill, Fleur, Kingsley, George, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Angelina, Harry. Everyone there. And a few more that she did not know, which made her even more uneasy.
"Hey, everyone." She spoke somewhat shyly, as if she was greeting. "That's Aries," She tried to get the baby to turn towards the people, and when he looked up with his grey eyes, she could not help but notice how Harry and Ron wrinkled their noses, even though her parents had smiled affectionally at the baby. "And I believe you remember James." She added, gently placing a hand on the thick reddish brown hair of the boy sitting at her feet.
James!, she looked at him, unconsciously biting her lip.
She would have so much trouble explaining everything to her eldest son, who was looking at everyone between curious and scared, taking in everything around him. As if he had read her thoughts, he looked up at her and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, at that age he already had the need to protect her, the urge to make her feel better.
The response she got was shy nods, curious glances and more silence. Even George, positioned across from her, looked a little embarrassed.
To help her situation, on her left side was Narcissa Malfoy, as impenetrable as ever, moving only her searching eyes – in a gesture very similar to what Draco did – with an expression of disgust on her face and avoiding interacting with people.
On her right side, in turn, was Blaise Zabini, sitting relaxed as if the Shell Cottage was his vacation home and it was very natural for him to be there. After they got there, Blaise had returned to being himself, leaving all the nervous and thoughtless gestures behind. And if Blaise felt comfortable there, Ginny had to admit that there was no reason for her to feel so… out of the place.
"Hm, hm." Arthur Weasley cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself and breaking the awkward silence. "Ginny, my love, I want you to know that you'll always be welcome in your family's home and that seeing you is a balm for my heart," he smiled at her and Ginny felt a little warmer and more comfortable. "But I think some clarifications would be valid."
"Not that the words weren't true, Gingin." George chimed in without being able to contain himself for another minute. "But what dad meant was: how the hell did you get here?"
"George!" Molly Weasley scolded, but she could not say anything more when Ron gave his contribution to the conversation.
"Especially with such... pleasant company." He added from the corner of the room with a sullen expression and barely moved when Hermione discreetly elbowed him in the stomach. Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him and Ginny closed her eyes briefly, choosing to ignore George and Ron and answer her father's question directly.
"I- I don't know." She stuttered, but forced herself to continue reasoning. "Blaise simply showed up at the Mansion and took us out of there, without time to even talk and saying that our lives depended on it. From Portkey to Portkey we got here... Bill found us in the north of the Cottage and, well, we were brought here. You already know the rest."
All eyes then turned to Blaise, but he didn't bother to explain anything. His attention was fixed on someone else.
"Salazar's beard," Zabini exclaimed after a moment, not bothered by everyone's need for explanations. Blaise only did what he wanted when he wanted. "How many lives do you have, Potter?"
Harry - who was sitting in a chair next to Ron and Hermione - was watching James closely, however, when he heard Blaise's question, he looked away from the boy and smiled weakly at the Slytherin.
"As many as it takes to destroy a regime you appear to cooperate with, Zabini."
Blaise smiled splendidly, but was cut off before he could retort with any sharp comment.
"Let's get straight to the point, boys." Mrs. Weasley spoke frankly. "Mr. Zabini, can you explain to us what you are doing here and, most importantly, how you found us?"
"It's quite simple, actually." Blaise shrugged, focusing on Ginny's mother. "I was at my home dealing with some… bureaucratic problems when I received a message from Draco, asking me to go to Malfoy Manor, pick up the boys, Mrs. Malfoy and the other Mrs. Malfoy," He highlighted Ginny's status staring at Harry with an annoying and defiant smile on his lips. "He gave me the directions and required me to be as discreet as possible to bring them here and, voilà, here we are."
Ginny grew paler with each of Blaise's words and, discreetly, Narcissa gestured for her to pass the baby onto her lap.
"Why would Draco do such a thing?" Ginny asked nervously after Aries got comfortable on his grandmother's lap, still looking warily at the unfamiliar people around him.
Blaise only measured her with his eyes. There was a strange expression in the dark eyes, one that was almost... concerned.
"Only it?" Hermione asked Blaise with an appraising look. "And you didn't hesitate to obey?"
"Why would I?" Blaise stared at Hermione like she was an idiot. "The more I help people get what they want, the more they feel indebted to me. It puts me in an advantageous position, as you may have guessed."
Ginny brought her fingers up to her temples, massaging them to ward off an impending headache, just like Draco did. "Blaise, please."
She looked at him as if to say, 'I know you... stop pretending you don't care about anyone, at least right now.'
After holding her gaze for a few seconds, Blaise sighed defeated.
"Let's just say I've been doing little off-the-record jobs for Draco since we left school, the ones he can't trust his friends Death Eater with. He trusts me when it comes to being discreet. He usually doesn't ask for anything that could be compromising, but this time there was a tone of desperate urgency in his message that intrigued me. So when he told me where I should take his family, I assumed that something had gone very wrong regarding You-Know-Who."
This time Blaise turned completely towards Ginny, placing his hand gently over hers. "As I couldn't bear anything happening to Redhead here, I decided it was necessary to do exactly as Draco had asked without delay."
"What about my son, Blaise?" Narcissa's icy stance finally cracked due to worry.
Blaise looked at Narcissa and his tone changed from irreverent to one much more respectful for the woman he had known since he was in diapers and running around the garden of Malfoy Manor with Draco.
"Even if my assumption is right – as I truly think it is – Draco is well and alive. After all, he managed to send me the patronus. However, there's nothing left for him out there... He's got no allies, no access to money, no protection..."
"What are you getting at, Blaise?" Narcissa asked and Ginny was convinced she already knew the answer.
"I believe the only place he can turn to is here, Mrs. Malfoy."
Blaise's last sentence caused a tremendous uproar and Ginny did not even hear half of the shouted words, the mumbles, the excited exclamations. While Blaise seemed amused by the explosive reaction, she could only think about Draco, whether he was okay, whether he needed help.
"What, but-"
"This is absurd, it's dangerous and we've got children here-"
"I don't think he'd have the courage, after all-"
"As if he wanted to come here-" Ginny recognised Narcissa's haughty voice.
"He'd never have the nerve…" Ron was saying. "He'd be a dead ferret. He better find another place to hide and-"
"STOP IT!" Ginny jumped to her feet, silencing everyone around her.
She did not want to hear any more, she wanted to grab her cloak, her wand and go after Draco, make sure he would be safe.
"Is he going to have to look for another place to stay?" Ginny said, without looking at anyone specifically. "Excellent. Because his whole family goes with him, including James and me."
If she had said that Voldemort would be showing up for the afternoon tea shortly, she wouldn't have shocked her family any more. It was noticeable, due to the number of open mouths and wide eyes.
"Draco saved my life, James's and Aries's!" She added, looking one by one this time. "The least we can do is repay the kindness."
"Ginevra, calm down," Narcissa said dryly, cradling Aries who had been startled by Ginny's outburst. "We don't even know if he's really coming here and-"
At that moment, Anne came through the living room door with a loud bang, braking sharply and sliding across the wooden floor. "Someone apparated too close to us. The protection spells gave a pretty outrageous warning and, well, you weren't there, so I came to warn you." She said breathlessly, only then noticing the strange meeting in the middle of the night and Ginny's presence there. "Ah, hello Mrs. Malfoy! Long time no see!"
Ginny nodded hastily at her, pushing past the girl and heading for the door. She herself was going to check what – or who – had triggered the warning spells.
"Hang in there, Gin." Bill blocked her path. "We need to make sure it's him." He gestured to Ron, who snorted discreetly, moving out of the room and closely followed by George.
"Or make sure he didn't bring You-Know-Who and thousands of Death Eaters straight to our doorstep." Ron growled at George as they disappeared through the doorway.
Ginny crossed her arms belligerently and Bill gave her an embarrassed look at their brother's words, but didn't give in to his sister's determined expression. He was the only one who had never given in to that expression. "They're more accustomed to the procedure."
Ginny grudgingly returned to her chair, and in the silence that followed, she forced herself to wait, her head spinning and a knot of worry tightening in her chest.
More than one hour later - when the tension in the room was almost palpable - Ron entered the room, dragging Draco by a kind of conjured rope. The blonde man had a mischievous smile on his face and his pointy nose in the air, like a king who had the misfortune of bumping into a group of subjects infested with Spattergroit.
However, when he laid eyes on Ginny and his mother, she noticed that his body visibly relaxed and a wave of relief seemed to wash away all the hidden tension that had been on his face the moment before.
In the next instant, however, everything had been replaced by a mask of coldness that she was no longer used to.
With a sinking heart, Ginny realised that she still hadn't deciphered the reason why Draco was so aloof with her and the shadow of that lack of understanding between them weighed almost painfully on her shoulders.
"Merlin, Ron!" It was the first thing Ginny said, heading towards them. "Let him go now!"
"I'm fine, Ginevra." Draco replied coldly, but from that distance, she could hear that his voice had trembled a little. "Weasley and I are just socialising."
Ron ignored him. "Our house, our rules, Ginny. Firstly, we need to know what happened, if this isn't a trap, if he's not going to give the information about our coordinates to You-Know-Who."
Ginny didn't have time to protest at her brother's idiotic argument – if Draco had wanted to hand over the Resistance he wouldn't have sent his mother and son there, after all – because Malfoy snorted irritably.
"I've known where you guys have been for months, you stupid imbecile!" He drawled the words and rolled his eyes. "I captured one of the jackrabbits you call brother and got the information from him."
Bill, Ron and George looked at each other in amazement wondering which of them was the responsible and Draco forced himself to explain.
"The one who wears glasses. Of course, I had to erase his memory after getting the information I wanted."
Blaise whistled softly. "This is news even to me, as much as it pains me to admit it."
"Coming from you, that's a huge compliment." Draco smirked at Blaise.
"If you already knew where we were, Malfoy," Bill voiced everyone's doubt, drawing Draco's attention to himself. "Why haven't you attacked us already? Or, at the very least, why didn't you report us?"
Draco took a few seconds to respond and then made a face as if he was chewing something that tasted really bad.
"My reasons are what matters least now." He looked directly at Ginny, but she could not read anything in the empty expression. "And they are just mine."
How long had he known? And why hadn't he said anything to me? Ginny's mind was spinning.
"Quite the opposite, Malfoy. They matter considerably." Harry spoke up for the first time, stepping out of the shadows of the room. Ginny held her breath waiting for Draco's shock at the discovery that Harry was alive, but nothing appeared except a hard, hateful look. But there was no surprise in it.
Did Draco already know that Harry was alive? Ginny's head spun some more and a bitter taste reached her mouth. How many more secrets does he hide from me?
"Surely you, more than anyone else here, wouldn't like to hear them." Draco replied and a superior smile quickly crossed his lips, as if they were still teenagers and Draco had caught the golden snitch before Harry.
Ginny didn't want to think that she was the Snitch in question.
Men, pff, she thought and would have rolled her eyes if she had not been absurdly tense.
Ginny saw the grey gaze locked on the green one, so essentially similar to the gazes of her own children, and felt a knot in her stomach. No more words were needed to know that they were now fighting on different terms.
"Try your luck, Malfoy." Harry replied with a hint of challenge in his voice. "I bet I won't mind hearing what's already in the past."
Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously, but said nothing.
"Harry, please. I don't think this is the appropriate time." Arthur said, catching everyone's attention, adjusting his glasses and implying that the conversation was over for the night. "We'll leave Draco confined until we can confirm that Percy has indeed suffered a Memory Charm and ensure that he'll have no communication with anyone else."
"As for me..." Blaise stated casually and everyone turned to his slender figure, still sitting relaxed on the Resistance couch. "I did what I was supposed to do here." He nodded towards Draco, who in turn nodded almost imperceptibly in a gesture of gratitude that only the two of them could understand.
The implications of what Blaise had said and done hung in the air with that simple sentence. It wasn't much of a warning as such, but it was clear that Blaise knew – and would take advantage of it – that they could not keep him or treat him the way they did with Draco; he had not done anything wrong – quite the opposite – and he was not even a Death Eater.
Arthur sighed tiredly.
"If you exposed yourself this way to bring my daughter here, Mr. Zabini, I can only conclude that you think very highly of her. Am I right?"
Blaise looked at Draco, then at Harry, only then to land his eyes on Ginny, his expression revealing nothing. It was only noticeable that he was breathing due to the fact that his chest rose and fell occasionally, but it was still constant and smooth, like Blaise himself. Ginny made a mental note to investigate whether the art of hiding one's emotions like that was a secret subject at Hogwarts that only Slytherin students could take.
"Yes." Was all he replied.
"So I ask, in the name of Ginny's and her children's safety, that you stay only until we have assurances that we have the situation under control."
Nothing in the world would make Blaise stay in a place that could harm him, Ginny thought, anticipating her friend's response.
After a moment Blaise nodded thoughtfully and Ginny couldn't be more shocked.
"You've got one day." He said simply.
Was that night really happening? Ginny gasped.
Draco and their family in the Resistance lair, along with Harry. Blaise openly admitting that he cared about her and deciding to stay in the name of her safety. Her family around him, Harry and James, James and Harry. All under one roof.
She would go crazy.
However, before she freaked out once and for all, there were more pressing matters to be resolved. Draco, for starters.
"Dad," Ginny spoke in a weak voice. "Draco won't do anything to us. He can't do anything to us."
When all eyes fell curiously on her, Ginny swallowed hard, seeing Draco staring at her – blankly – and Blaise crossing his arms, as if he were watching an interesting spectacle. She looked around but avoided Narcissa and Harry; she didn't want to look specifically at them.
"He made an Unbreakable Vow that protects James. Handing over our position means handing over James and Draco would lose his life if he did that."
Arthur watched her with a curious and worried expression. "This is one of the issues that we'll also have to address, Ginny. But not today. Tomorrow we'll discuss all this further. He'll be treated well, like anyone else in this house. For now, I think it's best for everyone to get some rest." And his tone brooked no dispute.
Ginny sighed resignedly, bowing to the parent's natural authority.
In turn, as if he had not heard Ginny's father's words, Draco finally looked at James and a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.
Ron tried to pull him to the place where he would spend the night being watched, but Draco did not move in the direction Weasley wanted to. Instead, he approached James and crouched down in front of the boy.
Ginny noticed that her son looked confused, scared, with his eyes on Harry as if he had noticed something strange about the man's appearance.
"Hello, James." Draco said hesitantly, drawing the boy's attention to himself.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy!" The boy waved, giving a shy, shaky smile. "So much confusion, right?"
And Ginny realised that Draco was the only person who had bothered to speak directly to James that crazy night.
"A bit, yes…" Draco agreed and his cheeks turned slightly red. Ginny could not say where the embarrassment was coming from. "I want to ask you something: I need you to be strong right now, for your mother and your brother. Can you do it?"
The boy nodded briskly and Draco continued with a hint of warmth in his drawl that only Ginny, Narcissa and perhaps James could hear.
"Your elf asked me to say that you're a good boy, the best she'd ever met," James smiled and Draco wrinkled his nose, knowing that the elf's words weren't right – he wouldn't repeat the compliment to Potter in that situation even if threatened, but he consoled himself knowing that that had been the general idea.
"She…" He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "She's gone. She's gone trying to protect you."
After a few seconds, James' eyes filled with tears as he understood what Draco had meant. And Ginny's too, once she made all the connections; it must have been through Della that Voldemort had managed to reach them. She was a house-elf living with her family, but bound by tradition to other.
"No!" James shouted coming out of his stupor. "I don't believe it! She's an elf, she can fight against anyone. They're magical, they can do things, they can-" His little voice died little by little, along with the entire bellicose atmosphere in the room.
Not against that one, Ginny thought of Voldemort, trying desperately not to cry as she remembered her companion all those years. Della was much more than an elf, more than a friend. She was family, and for a long time, she was the only family Ginny and James had.
She fought back tears. She needed to be strong for James.
"James, dear-" She began to say, moving closer to Draco and her son.
"No, I don't want to know, she's alive, I know she is!" James exclaimed loudly and Ginny stopped where she was. The boy looked at Draco hopefully. "You must have seen it wrong, right, Mr. Malfoy?" James asked and Draco slowly shook his head, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.
"She was a good house-elf and died trying to protect you." That was all Draco managed to say. "She was under no obligation to protect you, she had no ties. And yet, she made her choice out of loyalty. She loved you deeply, James."
Draco wasn't good with words. He had already made peace with this idea many years ago. However, at that moment, he felt it was vitally important to try to make James understand that the elf's gesture – such an insignificant being – made a world of difference. Besides his parents, no one had ever wanted to protect Draco for any reason other than their obligation.
James should feel privileged to have spent some time with someone like that.
But, as expected, Draco was unable to command the words to obey him and, in order not to stutter something meaningless, he preferred to keep his mouth tightly closed, pressed into a thin line.
The boy stared at him looking for a denial, as if he wished Draco had played a bad joke on him, as he had done so long ago with the Boggart. He found nothing.
Still with his eyes on Draco, James sniffled to avoid crying in front of so many strange people watching him intently, but he couldn't resist for long. When the first tear rolled down his face, dozens of others followed compulsively. And, in a desperate gesture, he leaned forward and threw himself into Draco's arms, crying profusely into his black shirt.
Draco froze as if someone had placed the tip of a wand against his back. But then, even with his hands trapped by Ron's ropes, he wrapped his arms around the boy and held him close, resting his face against the top of his dark-haired head.
And they stayed in that position for a long time, where none of those in the room were able to interrupt.
Ginny felt absolutely empty of all things other than thoughts of Della, other than grief for her son.
And people seemed to share her emptiness.
The arrogant expression left Narcissa's face, the fake smile left Blaise's lips, the worried expression no longer accentuated the scars on Bill's face. There was no longer any weariness on Arthur and Molly Weasley's faces, nor a ready joke in George's mouth. There was no longer anger in Ron's every gesture. There was no distraction in Luna's expression, nor vivacity in Angelina's gestures. There was no longer seriousness in Kingsley's wrinkles or determination in Hermione's eyes.
There was only pain among them.
And added to the pain, a single gleam of jealousy that flickered in Harry's eyes.
However, lost in their own thoughts, everyone respected the pain of the boy in Draco's arms, feeling his first loss in the war.
Something that all of them, without exception, had already felt.