Sweet Bondage

Chapter 15: A Prelude to an End

The drive back to her home was the longest Ginny had ever taken in her life. She had thankfully been able to escape from the hotel without too many prying eyes following her movements. There were probably speculations as to what she was still doing in the hotel, but the hotel staff would never think of coming up to her and asking her to her face, which suited her just fine. It was a good thing she was retiring from the public eye; she had nothing to give anymore, she felt dead inside and if she stayed a minute longer in this world of make believe, she would probably turn into an emotional zombie, like so many others like her who have been to hell and back.

She promised herself never again; she felt like a fool for letting him use her like that again. All the way back to the place she had called home for more than four years, she promised herself that never again would Draco Malfoy get the opportunity to hurt her as much as he had. There was only so much pain she could endure, and this time around, it wasn't only herself she had to consider. Luke and Nicole came first, and would be damned if Draco would get the chance to cut them as well with his viperous tongue. They didn't need him; they had all the father they would ever need from her brothers, Harry, Blaise and Lucius, not to mention Colin, who would probably prefer the title 'aunt' much more than a glorified father figure or uncle. There was no room for Draco in their lives, and since the four-year-olds didn't even know anything about their father, what was there to miss?

As for herself, she would move heaven and earth to sever her ties with him. She was considered the brightest witch of her year, and it wasn't only academically she had excelled in; even if she had to dedicate her life to finding the right spell to free herself from Draco, she would have considered it time well spent. To hell with the Book of Malfoy's, it will have to change it facts again; it hadn't warranted on Draco's determination on hating and making a fool out of all Weasleys and she was frankly tired of feeling like a martyr in a bad soap opera. It just wasn't her style, being a martyr or figuring in cheesy soap operas.

"We're here, Ma'am."

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts and saw that they had, indeed, arrived. Mumbling her gratitude to the limo driver, she stepped onto the curb and as quickly as she could, walked the few steps towards safety and solace. She fished her keys out and let herself into the quiet building, wearily leaning her weight against the closed door panel, closing her eyes momentarily. The quietness was to be expected since she had sent Luke and Nicole ahead to London with their nannies and several other servants and bodyguards, but the silence was too damning and it took everything in her to keep from screaming. Colin was still around, he had said he would be accompanying her back to England, and he would worry about her if she acted all crazy again. She didn't want him to know about what she did, what she let happen again. She didn't want him to know the cadence of Stupid, Stupid ringing inside her head; he wouldn't blame her for it, and that she could not take. She was guilty; she was to blame. And now it was up to her to see that she never make that mistake again.

She started to walk on leaded feet towards the living room, and mindful of all the aches and pains of her body, slowly lowered herself into an old-fashioned chaise lounge, her favorite seat in the house, stretching her tall form guardedly, her head resting on the back. She had only just closed her eyes again to try and settle her nerves when the unmistakable sound of Colin's approach penetrated her weary senses. She mentally girded herself for the lecture she was sure Colin had been preparing overnight; she rarely ever stayed out late, and if she did, she always called him up if he wasn't with her. She had stayed out all night last night, and thoughts of Colin never once entered her mind while she was screwing Draco. Even in her book, that deserved a major talking to.

And Colin didn't disappoint.

"Where were you? Do you know what time it is? Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn't come home last night? Why didn't you call? You have a cell phone for a reason, young lady, don't tell me you forgot to use it?"

Ginny could hear Colin pacing by her side, but she didn't bother opening her eyes. She could well imagine the worry on her friend's face; she didn't need to actually see it and heap more guilt over the ones crowding her head already. She listened to his rant and let her resolve strengthen.

" - and can you imagine my surprise when George told me you'd left the party before him? Yes, I called him up," Colin said, nodding at Ginny's wide-eyed, disbelieving stare, "and he very definitely told me you'd gone out with that friend of yours, Sarah. So I called her up too. Do you know what she told me?"

Ginny groaned aloud and closed her eyes again, pressing her face against the padded back seat. "That I was still at the party?" she mumbled, her voice muffled by the cushions.

"You were still at the party!" he exclaimed. "Imagine that! Somehow, you were lost somewhere in between. If you had brought your wand with you, I might not have thought much about you disappearing like that. But since I knew you didn't bring your wand, that left me with a lot of room for speculation. Interested in hearing them?"

Ginny groaned again. "No, but you'll probably tell me anyway," she said wearily.

"Too right I will! I was afraid you'd been kidnapped! I had pictured you dragged somewhere and being violated! I was fretting about how I would break the news to your family and the twins. Not to mention Lucius." He shuddered. "He's the last person I'd want to break news like that to, I can tell you that; he scares the shit out of me. And I will kill you if you make me do something like that." He started pacing again. "The only thing I could be certain of that you weren't doing last night was having sex; at least I didn't have that to worry about."

Ginny inwardly cringed. I wouldn't bet my life's savings on that, she thought cynically.

"So the question remains, where did you go off to last night through the morning?"

Ginny was thankful for the fact that Colin was not a Legilimens; the whooping lie she was about to tell him was necessary, if not to prevent Colin from feeling sorry for her, then to ensure that she was the only one who knew of her fall from grace. Again.

Dragging her aching body to a sitting position, she ran her hands through her hair. "I stayed in the hotel; I was too upset about Sarah and Mark's situation to come home straight away. Sarah's hurt was too familiar, too close to home, and I knew that if I came here after being made to see what a pathetic mess my life was before, I would be missing out on the chance to finally come to grips with what I have to do, what I should have done a long time ago." She put all her talent into keeping how she felt inside from showing in her eyes as she looked at her friend. "I'm ready to go back, Colin, it's time I end this once and for all. No more hiding for me." There; at least, what she said weren't all lies.

Colin frowned. He was uneasy about something Ginny said, but he wasn't sure why he should be. "I don't understand. We are going back to England, and Draco will finally be told he's a father. Or were you thinking of changing your mind after all?"

Ginny shook her head and stood up. "Never mind, it's not important anymore." She looked down at her severely wrinkled dress. "I have to freshen up; I don't only feel a mess, I look a mess. Are you ready to go?" she asked, one brow raised inquiringly.

Colin nodded, his pique forgotten for the moment as he tried to check for anything unusual about Ginny's physical appearance. "Since last night. I dispatched most of the Muggle staff but for Mrs. Buxley; she was amenable to coming in and cleaning the place once a week. And Weatherby informed me about your arrangement regarding W Ventures."

Ginny nodded. "Michael will come through for me." She turned and started for the stairs. "Give me an hour, then we can be on our way."

Colin watched Ginny go with narrowed eyes. Something was off with the redhead and she was keeping it from him. They'd been very occupied with their preparation for the inevitable return to England and hadn't had any contact with anybody from home for the past three weeks. He had his studio to take care of, and the arrangements he had to put in place regarding the artistic side of Ginny's business interests was more complicated than he had at first thought. He hadn't had time to so much as read a newspaper for a month now, and that, for him, truly signified the sorry state of his affairs. He had taken it upon himself to be the one to apprise Ginny of the newest gossips, whether Wizarding or Muggle, weeding out the false rumors and confirming the noteworthy ones, and being unable to do that left him disoriented and terribly out of his element, a feeling he didn't like one bit.

As soon as possible, once they were settled back in England, he would make it his number one priority to catch up with the latest on dits.

An hour later, Ginny rejoined him in the living room, dressed in a black halter top and low slung, form-fitting denim jeans, with comfortable thong sandals on her feet. She halted a few feet from where Colin was sitting, whipping out a scrunchy from her back pockets and bound her hair to a high ponytail, the burnished tresses swinging at her back like a horse's tail as she whipped it this way and that, uncaring of the heartache she would bring any hairdresser at the torture she was subjecting her hair into.

"C'mon, get up off your butt and let's go," Ginny said cheerily as she finished with her hair.

Colin's brow rose. "Where's your wand?" As she promptly produced her wand from her other back pocket, Colin shook his head. "Didn't you listen to Moody at all? It's dangerous, putting your wand in such a delicate place."

"Don't whine," Ginny said dismissively. "Accidents will happen if it's fated to happen, there's no stopping it."

"I agree," Colin replied matter-of-factly, "but it will help a lot if you don't court disaster to happen. Prevention is a whole lot better than cure, you know, especially since in some instances, there's no cure to some accidents."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Believe me, Colin, I know." There was a whole lot of meaning into her implied knowledge, and Colin didn't miss it as a slight flush suffused his cheeks. Ginny only flashed him an evil grin, letting him plainly see that she enjoyed embarrassing him. "Now, let's go! You can go into lecture mode as soon as we get to England."

Colin shook his head again as he watched Ginny walk towards the library, the only place cleared for Apparation in the townhouse. As he followed on her heels, he could not help but be amazed at how truly young the redhead was when she let her mask down. She was still young in years, yes, but it was more than that. He had been used to seeing her as a young mother to two kids, responsibilities heaped on her shoulders on both the parenting and business fronts. To be given occasional glimpses of the girl inside, a girl that was never given a chance to play the way other girls her age were, was disturbing. In a way, he could be held accountable for part of her burden; he knew very well the only reason she modeled for him was to help him out and he had shamefully used her devotion as his friend so she would continue to do so. That she had come to enjoy the profession was irrelevant. He had tried to make up for it by assuming all the financial aspects of their arrangement, but he knew that wouldn't be enough balm to soothe his guilt. Then Draco happened, and all chance of Ginny's youth to emerge had to be shelved in preparation for the even greater responsibility of parenthood.

Everything seemed to happen too fast in Ginny's world; she became famous even before her face was revealed to the public, she became a parent too early, she got rich too quickly. He shuddered to think what it was that would happen next, and hoped her luck would hold out the way it had these past years.

He was by the door to the library when Ginny threw her a little salute and disapparated. He looked at the empty space his friend left behind for a moment, then took a deep, resolute breath.

"I'll take care of you if it doesn't, Gin," he promised quietly, to himself and to the woman who meant the world to him, before he, too, disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Better to allow people to think you're a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

Those words, uttered in contempt, had been ringing in Draco's head the moment he'd left Ginny. Draco Jr. had been in his element as he called him ten kinds of fool, in languages that made the words more inventive than the last. Maybe he was a fool, doing what he did in writing that damnable note; he didn't even understand what made him do it in the first place.

At first, he had convinced himself it was expected of him, a Malfoy putting a Weasley in her place. But on closer inspection, he had to admit that the compulsion to hurt Ginny stemmed from someplace inside himself that he did not know, had no control over. It was also the same place that had been obsessed with the redhead for six years.

He didn't know how Ginny would treat his little note, whether she'd be angry or hurt or insulted. He didn't really know her, after all; his knowledge of her was only in the biblical sense, not much for him to go on, and somehow, it bothered him to admit that now. He never bothered to find out anything about Ginny the person, and ordinarily, that was enough for him. Sex was all the talk that need happen between a man and a woman was his belief. He didn't know when that belief changed.

When he had collected Dianne from the party after leaving Ginny sleeping like a baby, she had taken one look at him and realized right away what he'd been doing, and had then told him that he should have waited until later for such activities. Outwardly, his façade had been firmly held in place, but inside, he had frowned. Dianne was a few years older than him, but that difference in years surely was not significant enough for her to be so openly accepting of his tendency to stray. Granted, she had been in a few other relationships before, and had even been engaged once, but did that automatically mean she would be willing to share her spouse with any other woman as long as said spouse was reasonably discreet? And did the same apply to her as well? Would she also engage in adultery and expect her spouse to take her infidelity in stride as long as she was discreet?

The thought turned his blood cold, and unbidden, a vision of his parent's marriage as they were when he was a young boy flashed through his mind. The only difference there would be that Dianne wouldn't care at all if he took innumerable mistresses, whereas his mother had been deeply hurt by his father's infidelity.

The vision wouldn't go away as a question emerged out of the whole amoral dilemma: Was he marrying himself? Or more accurately, was he prepared to live through life fleeting from one bed to another, while his wife did the same?

As Draco Jr. had pointed out, Dianne was a wonderful woman, kind, giving, openly caring. But he had missed the mark when he said she loved him; she was fond of him, certainly, and he made her look good beside him, but love him? He had finally acknowledged that Dianne's devotion to him for the year they'd been together was not because she loved him, but because she considered him one of her causes, a work in progress, so to speak. A goal to be achieved. He seriously doubted Dianne knew herself enough to love another person without reservation the way Narcissa Malfoy had loved Lucius.

It had suited his purposes well to believe that what Dianne felt for him was love, and had even entertained the idea of returning the feeling, as much as a man like him could, that is. He had asked himself how hard could it be, to try and conjure up the same emotion Ginny aroused in him? That sense of desperation that always left him feeling oddly deprived every time she looked at him with contempt in her eyes, the inability to think intelligently wherever and whenever she was within arms reach. He'd thought it easy, doing that; he didn't much like it when, after months of trying to force himself to feel even a modicum of that emotion, he'd been wholly unsuccessful to feel anything more than fondness for the petite brunette.

He'd started to feel a bit uncomfortable, in light of Dianne's openly affectionate ways, until he realized that, like him, she considered him to be a pretty ornament, like a trophy used to brag to her circle of friends. He was like a canvas to her, one she could mould into whatever form she fancied. It just wasn't in her, to feel that intense emotion his mother felt for his father, which, at first, was what he thought he wanted, what he preferred. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Which left him with what, exactly?

The life he'd chosen, Draco Jr. had been quick to answer. He was even quicker to point out that what made humans different from animals was their choices in life. Then he'd qualified that statement by saying that Draco had evened the equation by being born human, yet choosing to be an animal. He didn't have a good enough come back for that; it was true, after all, and he didn't know if he could still go back and change some of his choices. The question was no longer whether he wanted to or needed to; the question was whether the reason for him to consider changing his more unpopular choices would still be there, waiting for him? What lay outside of the circle of emotional isolation he had imposed upon himself?

He looked at the clock above the fireplace; it was 2'o'clock. Twelve hours had passed since he'd left Ginny.

He had decided to go ahead to Malfoy Manor and face his father before Dianne would join him. He might be having more than second thoughts about his relationship with her, but that didn't mean he'd let Lucius treat her any less than she deserved. He knew his father would probably try to tear him apart for ignoring his summons, letters and howlers ever since the announcement of his engagement more than a week ago, and he wanted that out of the way before Dianne joined him.

He waited for ten more minutes before he stood up and prepared to apparate. No sense prolonging the inevitable, he thought, and with a crack, he disappeared and materialized inside Malfoy Manor's library, the familiar smell of centuries old books lining the walls from floor to ceiling of the massive room assailing his senses, bringing back memories of times long ago spent inside the room. It gave him a good feeling, being back inside one of his favorite places in the Manor, his haven of sorts, according him the quiet he often needed to try and push back from his consciousness his father's blatant neglect. And disapproval.

"Draco."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius sat back, a picture of a relaxed aristocrat with the world at his feet, at his beck and call. There was nothing in his posture to indicate he was bothered by anything more mundane than what to wear next for dinner or where to spend his limitless funds on. It would take someone who knew him really well to note that the glint in his eyes bode ill for whoever it was he was fixated on, the deliberate synchronicity of the tapping of his index fingers against the padded arm of his chair with the steady tapping beat of his left foot, and his slow, deep breathing meant that he was teetering on the edge of violence. In fact, Lucius Malfoy had been champing at the bit for twelve days, eight hours, and, last he checked, thirty-three minutes. He was not a patient man, he abhorred being made to wait for something he wanted ten minutes ago, and he was usually very expressive in his displeasure. Was it any wonder that every ounce of his imposing frame was about to implode because of his son's sheer audacity at making him wait for their confrontation?

For the first time in more years Lucius cared to remember, he had been excited at the prospect of finally being free to acknowledge to the Wizarding world the existence of his grandchildren. He had waited four years, had exercised what little patience he had in waiting for the right time to tell his son. He was the one who had deliberately set that limitation, but that didn't mean he had to like it, or that he would grow to feel so strongly for two innocent children with Weasley blood in them.

For four years he had to be content with spending an hour or two every other day with Luke and Nicole, and all the while he had to sneak around to do it just so Narcissa would not find out. It was frustrating in the extreme, for a man who had fallen more in love with his grandchildren the more time he spent with them, to have that time with them be so limited. He was used to having anything he desired before he even knew he wanted it; to be denied something now at this point in his life, especially since that something was as significant as his grandchildren, two individuals he never expected to grab at his heart and not let go even before they were born; well, it was truly a miracle he had stayed sane all these years.

To wit, he had almost told Narcissa about them twice; only the fear of the events that would inevitably follow stopped him from doing so. Instead, he had taken comfort in the fact that, if he was waging a personal battle with his limited time with the twins, Arthur Weasley spent even less time with them, what with his increasingly demanding political career taking up most of his time and energy. But he wanted all the sneaking around to end now, yesterday, four years ago! He was impatient for the Ministry's inaugural ball to commence so that all could finally be revealed.

Then Draco just had to announce his engagement in the Daily Prophet twelve days ago.

Lucius' jaw clenched as he recalled the chaos that little announcement wrought amongst the Weasleys. Arthur had demanded an explanation, but what could he tell him? That, as his father, Draco thought so highly of him he decided to forego telling him that worthwhile news prior to making it known to the public. Draco hadn't bothered to reply to his letters and summons, and it didn't look like he had any intention to until the very last minute.

Molly had looked very disappointed but didn't say anything, which made him extremely wary and uncomfortable; it was never a good sign when someone with Molly's temperament stayed silent in the face of something as monumental as her daughter getting screwed over by any man.

Charles had looked fit to spit fire in his anger, and Percival had shaken his head and started clucking like a chicken; Fred and George plotted on how best to retaliate in kind, and Ronald had run the gamut of I-told-you-so's to bad apples not falling far from the tree idioms.

But it was William that really made Lucius see red; he had quietly declared that he would string Draco up by his prick, and if that wouldn't be enough to pacify him afterwards, he was going to make sure Draco never get the chance to be with Luke and Nicole.

Lucius knew William meant every word he said and he saw no way out of the hole Draco had dug for himself this time around. He wasn't so much worried about Draco losing his manhood, Merlin knows the brat needed his indiscriminate liaisons severely curtailed; if only the stubborn brat had spoken to him first before taking that irrevocable step, he might have been able to avert disaster. Again. As the situation now stood, Draco was in for a rude awakening.

His eyes snapped up immediately after a loud crack heralded the arrival of his errant son. Draco hadn't seen him yet as he had made sure to sit in a darkened corner of the massive room. He knew this would be the first place his son would think of Apparating in, and he had spent days waiting for him to show his hide, the threads of his patience getting thinner and thinner as the days passed and no Draco showed up in answer to his summons.

With his presence yet unknown to the younger man, Lucius took the time to briefly study the man he had sired. He had to admit that, bias aside, Draco was a fine specimen of manhood. He was as tall as himself, broad-shouldered and reeked of an air of authority, wealth and power, so much power. He could see why any woman would fall over themselves to get him naked and on his back, and where before he would probably feel smug about that aspect of his son's virility, he could now see the problems such qualities would bring him. He had come to know Ginevra very well over the years, and he didn't think she would appreciate Draco's attractiveness to the fairer sex, nor his weakness to the wiles of a beautiful woman and the pleasures to be had between her legs. That is, if Ginevra Weasley hadn't as yet decided Draco Malfoy was a hopeless case and actively start to find ways and means to terminate any and all ties there was between them. She was a brilliant witch; it wouldn't be hard for her to realize that the solution to her problem lay squarely at his feet, and he knew very well he wouldn't be able to refuse her in the end. Luke and Nicole were secure in their place in the Malfoy hierarchy; their parents getting together wasn't a prerequisite to seal the deal. It would have been quite a boon if Draco also found the other half of his soul in the process, but after what he did, that eventuality was growing increasingly dim.

He schooled his face to show none of the anger he felt inside before he made his presence known to his son.

"Draco."

Draco stiffened. He inwardly cursed his brief lapse of concentration; ordinarily, his senses were always attuned to his surroundings and any and all forms of threat it posed. His vigilance had saved him more times than he cared to count, during the second war against Voldemort and among the stiff competition in the business arena, not to mention the immediate threat to his civil status by females looking for a leg up in the world. To have so let his guard down enough to not sense the presence of his father in the library was a fatal mistake; Lucius Malfoy was danger personified and only someone lacking sense would leave himself open to his form of threat.

Poker-faced, he turned in the direction of his father's voice and watched an older version of himself emerge from the shadows, like a specter of doom about to deliver him his just desserts. "Father."

Lucius languidly strolled forward, his robes billowing around his long limbs. In contrast, Draco was dressed entirely in a Muggle business suit, something that would have usually provoked his anger before, and probably the reason why Draco had worn it in the first place. But being constantly exposed to Muggles, Ginevra's staff composed mainly of them, he had learned to tolerate them to the point where he'd moderated the use of the word Mudblood. He wasn't completely over his prejudice with them, but he was no longer wishing them to perdition beneath his breath all the time.

Now he looked at his son as he stood there, so sure of himself, and he wondered whether the past four years were worth all the sacrifices he would never otherwise make.

"I have been trying to contact you for almost two weeks now, Draco. I presume you failed to receive my messages?" One brow rose challengingly, daring him to lie.

"Mmm, must be," Draco smoothly intoned, looking his father straight in the eye.

Lucius inwardly seethed at the bald-faced lie. "No matter, you're here now. Sit." He motioned to the armchairs arranged around a gleaming rosewood coffee table in the middle of the room. "There's something important we have to discuss."

"Oh?" Draco's voice was laced with curiosity. "What about?"

Lucius kept silent, waiting for Draco to sit before settling down himself, opposite him. "You know precisely what about." He kept his voice deceptively soft as he sat back, regarding his son with a pointed look.

Draco wasn't fooled in the least by his father's seemingly calm demeanor. "There's only one major change in my life since last we spoke, so I assume it's my engagement you wanted to talk about?"

Lucius nodded curtly. "Tell me, Draco, was it really necessary for you to keep this news from us? As your parents, did we merit the same regard as, oh say, the book attendant at Flourish and Blotts?"

Draco kept his expression bland. "Of course not, but as hope I am old enough to know my own mind, I didn't think I had to go running to you and mother for every little thing that happens in my life. And if I remember correctly, you told me I could be with whomever I like so long as it's not Pansy." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not marrying Parkinson, I'm marrying Dianne Winters." He forego mentioning his second thoughts about the whole thing; Lucius didn't need to know about that.

Lucius bristled in suppressed fury. "You know damn well who I meant when I said that! You deliberately chose to misunderstand me, and that I find inexcusable. What possessed you to do this, Draco? Do you know the problems you have caused because of your thoughtlessness?" His eyes flashed, his breath hitched at the defiance he saw in his son's face. "You have no idea what you've done."

The anger emanating from either of them was palpable in the quiet room, but if anybody were to look in and see them, they would probably think nothing of their rigid postures as father and son sat opposite each other. Draco was growing angrier by the minute, and Lucius was no longer bothering to conceal what he thought of his son's latest attempt at rebellion.

"I think I have a pretty good idea, father," Draco replied scathingly. "I can see that after all these years, you still think you could control me, could still tell me what I can and cannot do. While everyone else around you grew up and moved on, you have staunchly stayed the same: An autocratic, prejudiced bastard who thinks the world revolves around him. You refuse to see that I'm no longer the boy you can intimidate into doing and being what you want. I grew up a long time ago, and there is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about what I intend to do with my life."

As Lucius listened to Draco speak, he was surprised to feel his anger slowly ebbing, to be replaced with the uncomfortable feeling of defeat. The feeling was so foreign, so unfamiliar; not even his failure as Voldemort's right-hand man had left him with such a profound sense of loss. And it wasn't even his loss to grieve over.

"My whole life I have had to live by what it was you wanted, never mind if what you wanted wasn't necessarily something I'd wanted for myself," Draco continued pouring out his bile. "You keep harping on about how I have to uphold the glory of the Malfoy name, how it is my duty to ensure that the Malfoy name be revered." He crossed his arms in front of him, the only sign of his belligerence; otherwise, there was no change in their respective positions.

"What glory? What name? You yourself single-handedly destroyed the name you put so much stock on! But did that fact even register inside that organ residing in your head? No, of course not! Why should it? You're Lucius Malfoy after all, you can never do wrong! Well, guess what, father? The only thing you did right was marrying my mother, and even that you almost screwed up."

A very real calm had come over Lucius even before Draco finished speaking. Draco wasn't saying anything he hadn't realized for himself long before, and he wasn't surprised now by the way his son was throwing his past mistakes at his face. This was long overdue, the airing of his grievances; what really saddened him was everything Draco stood to lose because of his inability to get past his resentment of him, his father. Draco was convinced that no good could ever come from anything Lucius wanted for him and because of that, there was no hope he would realize that his father had been working towards securing his happiness. And that, more than anything, weighed heavily on Lucius' shoulders.

Lucius looked at the young man before him, so full of anger; Draco glared back at him. "I see," he said mildly, rising slowly. "There is nothing for us to talk about then. It's clear to me that you've chosen your own path, and nothing I say will make you change your mind." He drew his gloves from his pockets and methodically started putting them on. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, not after everything that's passed between you and me. Pity." He shook his head, finished with putting on his gloves. He looked up to lock eyes with his son. "You don't know what you've just lost, Draco. It's really such a pity." He started for the doors of the library; Draco's next comment halted him in midstep.

"Disinheritance again?" Draco scoffed. "When are you going to stop holding that over my head? I don't need your money, father, not anymore."

Lucius stood still for a few seconds, his back to his son, before slowly turning back and eyed Draco stoically before speaking. "On the contrary." He looked over Draco's shoulder, finding it difficult to say what he had prepared himself to say just in case their confrontation went down this route. "I'll arrange for you to receive the bulk of your inheritance by the end of the day. As you've said, you're old enough now." He spread his arms wide. "I'm giving you everything, Draco. Before the day ends, the Malfoy Estate is yours to do with as you please." His arms dropped down his sides. "I've made arrangements for Narcissa and myself; it's time I give you free reign, time I step down. And with your upcoming marriage, you need the Manor for your wife and family." He executed a small bow before he delivered his final words.

"Materially, you're now the richest man in the Wizarding world. I only have one favor to ask before I hand over complete control to you." He waited for Draco to nod before he continued. "I'd really like for you to come to me, two days from now, and tell me how it feels to have everything in the world you could ever want. I'm sure you have enough money to be able to buy all your heart's desire by then."

Draco was chilled to the bone by what his father asked of him, and he didn't like his emphasis on everything. It was almost as though Lucius was hinting at something important, something he knew Draco would want to have but couldn't. But there was no menace behind his father's eyes; he'd meant what he'd said about giving him everything, and his inquiry might just be mere curiosity on his part.

He watched Lucius quit the room, the doors closing soundlessly behind him on well-oiled hinges. Something was in the air, but he didn't know what. He was surprised at the way their conversation had ended, but he wouldn't dwell on it; there was a lot he had to prepare for once the legalities of the transfer of the Estate's ownership were finalized, the least of which was now he had the excuse to refuse setting a date for his walk down the aisle with Dianne. Taking over from his father would need all his attention, and marriage was not going to be at the foremost of his to-do list. He didn't think Dianne would mind; nevertheless, it was always better to come prepared for the battle than to engage in one unarmed. He would think about Lucius later. Much later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucius warily listened for any suspicious sound. After his talk with Draco, he had opted to seek out the two people in the world who were capable of making him feel better without even trying. But the place he had Apparated into was not the same one he had been used to; it was too quiet, the air too still. He was afraid to speculate on what it could possibly mean, more than half convinced it had something to do with a certain redhead.

"What is you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius swiftly turned around and looked down at Dobby, who looked back at him without a hint of fear on his pinched face. He reigned in the urge to sneer at the elf, knowing the trouble he could get into if it was known he was showing his displeasure at the insubordinate critter; Ginevra was oddly attached to the thing, and to his horror, Luke and Nicole were also very partial to the elf.

"What's happened? Where are Luke and Nicole? Why does it sound like the Manor's deserted?"

Dobby sniffed. "The little master and mistress are sleeping, they are. Miss Ginny is in her study, but you is not to bother her. She has said she was not seeing anyone."

Lucius immediately started for Ginny's study, ignoring the scrambling elf yapping at his heels.

"Go away," he demanded tersely, pulling his robes from the elfs grasp, "I wish to speak with Ginevra. Make yourself useful and bring her tea," he ordered imperiously, not bothering to look down at the distressed elf.

Dobby was indeed having a dilemma; he had his orders from Ginny herself, but he also knew that he could not do anything to keep Lucius Malfoy from seeing his Mistress. He was capable enough of using magic to prevent him from intruding on his Mistress, but he knew very well that she wouldn't really mind seeing him, especially right now. And then there were refreshments to think of. The mark of a good house-elf was his ability to anticipate his Master or Mistress' needs, and therein lay his problem. What to do?

Lucius made his decision for him when he arrived at his destination, Ginny's study, and entered without bothering to knock, taking great pleasure in shutting the door in Dobby's face. Dobby sniffed again in indignation, before disappearing to fetch the tea for his Mistress and one unwanted, and undesirable, guest.

Ginny looked up from her study of an enormous book, slightly annoyed at being interrupted after she had specifically asked not to be disturbed. She had arrived at Welsh Manor earlier that day, and after spending all morning with her rambunctious offspring, right after her conference with her father and brothers, she had retired to her personal domain so she could begin her work on unraveling the ties that bound her to one Draco Malfoy. Colin had immediately set out after the twins had finally wound down and taken a nap, saying he had some people to meet and would not be back until late in the afternoon. He hadn't asked what it was she was doing, and she hadn't volunteered the information as well; it was better that way.

Her annoyance cleared right away when she saw who it was that dared enter her sanctuary.

"Lucius." She moved the glasses perched on her nose to the top of her head, and sat back on her chair, waiting for him to reach her before standing up and offering her hands out to him, which he took and raised to his lips. "Should I ask what brought you here, or shall I hazard a guess?"

Lucius dropped her hands and inclined his head at her. "No need, you've yet to miss on your guesses. I doubt this day would be an exception." He waited for her to sit down before taking the seat across from her, the huge desk she insisted on having for her study separating them.

Ginny regarded her children's grandfather with a wry grin. "It doesn't take a genius to guess what's on your mind, Lucius. You're as transparent as crystal."

Lucius frowned. "You're the only person who can say that about me and get away with it." He shook his head. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here."

Ginny sighed feelingly. "Why do you bother, Lucius? He doesn't deserve it."

"He's my son," he said simply. "I might not like him at the moment, but he's still my son. I have to at least try."

Ginny picked up a quill from her desk and idly started playing with its feather.

If anybody were to tell her four years ago that she'd be sitting amicably in a room with Lucius Malfoy, she would have called that somebody a certifiable nut case. If that same somebody were to tell her in the same breath that she would be sitting across from the same wizard feeling sorry for him, she would have probably laughed herself silly. But here she was now, four years down the road, sitting across from Lucius Malfoy, feeling, if not sorry for him, then deeply empathetic.

"Isn't it amazing," she murmured, her fingers trailing down the side of the quill feather, "the amount of hurt we, as a race, are capable of inflicting on another. What's even more amazing, is how much hurt we are capable of enduring." She threw the quill back on her desk, looking up and letting Lucius know with her eyes how she felt inside. "I don't know about you, Lucius, but I, for one, have reached my quota where Draco is concerned. I'm not holding out for hope anymore; it's getting to be tedious and highly pathetic, the way I keep putting my life on hold for him. Enough's enough."

Lucius sat rigidly on his seat, incapable of finding any argument to defend his son, or even slightly mollify Ginny's feelings. From the quiet resolution in her voice, there was no need.

He nodded. "So. What happened when you got back?"

Ginny stood up and walked over to the wide windows with the curtains drawn, showing a breathtaking vista of the gardens, her favorite part of the home she had made for her small family. She wrapped her arms around herself, slowly rubbing away the chill from her body as she contemplated the scene she had faced the moment she set foot in England.

"It was not exactly the homecoming I had expected," she began. "I only knew about Draco's engagement a few hours before my return, then to be literally thrust into a situation where I was so ill prepared for..." She trailed off and shook her head sadly, then looked over her shoulder at the still seated wizard. "I didn't know what to say; even Colin was blissfully ignorant about all of it." She turned to look back out the window. "So I told them what only hours before I'd decided I would do."

"Which is?"

Ginny wasn't surprised to find Lucius suddenly standing behind her; he was one of only a few people who could sneak up on her successfully. "I think you know precisely what it is I intend doing." She inclined her head at the book on her desk. "It's what I should have done years ago; four, to be precise. It's time."

She waited for him to plead his son's case, asking for clemency and more time for Draco to accept the path that had been laid out for him; instead, Lucius surprised her.

"I know," he said simply. He clasped his hands behind his back, staring out at the perfectly landscaped gardens. He was conscious of Ginny's eyes on him, and he could not find the courage to meet them with his. "I spoke with Draco just a few minutes ago; it didn't go too well. There was a lot he needed to get off his chest, and for the first time, I realized that no amount of planning on my part could take away the fact that he is a grown man, with his will intact and on a collision course with mine." His jaw clenched as he was forced to say what he thought, hoped, he'd never say. "I've given him control of the Malfoy Estate, Ginevra. I didn't want to be around to see how he will react when he realizes he won't be gaining anything, but losing the one thing he will never be able to replace."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "I know. Bill was very vocal in his opinion about that." She sighed. "He tried so hard to be logical; in the end, he just couldn't. There was just too much history for him to succeed at it, I guess. I knew my brother was passionate, but the way he was was an eye opener for me." She looked up at Lucius. "I presume you were subjected to the same?"

Lucius nodded jerkily. "All of your brothers were rather enthusiastic about their opinions," he said dryly.

Ginny's cheeks twitched a bit in her effort to stop herself from smirking. "I used to think their protectiveness was a nuisance, but I have to face the fact that they care for me and think nothing of putting their noses in my business."

"There's such a thing as too much family interference, you know," Lucius murmured resentfully.

Ginny didn't bother controlling the smirk from blossoming on her lips. "Isn't that a bit like calling the kettle black? You can't help from interfering in my life any more than they can, either."

He didn't miss Ginny's deliberate association of himself as part of her family. "Well," he said, chest puffing out in mock indignation, "at least I don't turn red in the face when I make my point."

"No," Ginny conceded, "you turn pale, instead, then start to bluster like an irate mother hen with her chicks." She started laughing at the disgusted expression on Lucius' face. "Oh, stop, I shouldn't be laughing like this when my life has just gone down the drain." She was bent over from the middle, one arm holding on to Lucius' forearm for support as she kept on laughing.

"Glad I could be of great service to you," Lucius said wryly, torn between feeling indignant at being made a source of hilarity for her, and relieved that she seemed to have stopped dwelling on the problem that was his son, even for just a few minutes. "You're certainly taking all of this a lot better than I thought."

"Oh, I needed that," Ginny said after a while, taking several deep breaths. She took off the glasses now precariously perched on her head, tossing it on her desk. "It was a choice of wallowing in self-pity or moving on," she said nonchalantly, in reply to his observation, flicking her hair behind her shoulders. "Moving on sounded far better than the former, and I guess I have Draco to thank for making the choice easier for me. If he hadn't made it clear that I could never be good enough for him, good enough to call his wife I mean, maybe I would have gone on hoping for something that will never be."

Lucius stayed silent while Ginny talked, her every word hitting the heart of the matter.

"I've never been more grateful of the way you stepped in and kept Draco from knowing about the twins," she continued. "I have to say that I never really trusted your motives before, what with the war being so fresh in our minds and everything that went before that. But if you hadn't taken the reins then, I don't think I would have had the same opportunities offered to me. If you hadn't made sure Draco never found out about Luke and Nicole, who knows what would have happened to us, to me?" She smiled at him brightly. "I have shed my last tears for Draco. But don't you feel guilty for what your son did. You've done more than enough for us and I can never thank you enough for it."

Lucius felt like a fraud; he had done what he did for purely selfish reasons: He wanted his grandchildren, wanted to give them their rightful place in the order of things, and since Draco was sure to make a muck of things, he was cut from the same cloth as his father after all, he took it upon himself to ensure he got what he wanted on that belief. That he grew to care for the mother of his grandchildren along the way as though she were his own daughter was wholly incidental, and entirely uncomfortable to admit.

"Now." She clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side to better contemplate the quiet man before her. "You're no longer the head honcho. Do I take that to mean that you're out of a house and home as well?"

The change in the direction in their conversation was very much welcomed. "You could say that, as far as the Manor is concerned, anyway. Of course, my wife and I are not totally destitute; I have several other properties we could move into day after tomorrow. 'Course, none of them are as attractive as the possibility of staying within shouting range of the twins."

Her brows rose teasingly. "Don't hint, Lucius, you're as bad as Colin at it." She went over to a side table, poured a generous amount of brandy in a glass and brought it to Lucius, which he took with a slight nod to the head to signify his gratitude; it was a habit they'd formed throughout the years, her offering him a drink without asking if he wanted one, and him accepting with a slight gesture of acknowledgment, like a nod or a slight toast. "I take it to mean that you've decided to accept my offer?" At his nod, her smile brightened. "Excellent! I was told that your rooms have been ready for a few days already; all you have to do is pack up and move in. I know of two imps who have been trespassing in there almost every day, every time they manage to elude their nannies."

Lucius now smirked, setting aside the burden of his son's decisions and focused on the more pleasant thoughts of Luke and Nicole. "Those two are going to be Slytherins, you mark my words," he stated proudly, his thought on the distant future.

Ginny didn't bother arguing with him; she, too, felt that there was no other house fitting for the next generation of Malfoys, albeit they were half Weasleys. There were just too many hints of Slytherin tendencies in the two for them to be sorted anywhere else.

"And I can see you're extremely pleased about that," she said dryly, grudging acceptance in her voice. Her answer was the further widening of the blond wizard's smirk.

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Whatever. I have to get back and try to sort out this messy mate thing. Not to mention that I promised the twins I would take them for a short stint in Diagon Alley after their nap, and you know they never forget about promises made to them. If you'll excuse me?" She started for her desk; Lucius halted her with a firm grasp of her arm.

"There's no information you will find about severing your ties from a Veela in any book, Ginevra," Lucius said firmly. "Let it be. You'll know it when your bond is broken." With his other arm, he tossed his glass down in one.

Ginny's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know that for sure? Do you know how to break the bond?"

Lucius looked into her eyes, deigning not to answer her with a yes or a no, vanishing his empty glass instead. "Trust me, Ginevra. You'll know when your bond is broken."

Ginny would not be deterred. "How? When? Are you sure? Or will there be another loophole in the end? Tell me!"

Lucius let go of her arm and started for the door. He had it opened, ready to leave her presence. With his back to her he stopped, his knuckles clenching on the knob. He was very tense, his whole body screaming his indecision whether to relieve Ginny's mind of one more burden. How it was that their moods always shifted from light to heavy in the blink of an eye was an enigma to him, but it was always so with her.

Finally, the grudging fondness he felt for her that had grown over time won out.

"The day Draco marries another," his voice carried over to Ginny loud and clear, "will be the day you will be freed of your bond with him." He looked back at her. "Take heed, Ginevra, and weigh your options well; from this moment on, all outcomes of your bond with Draco will rest solely on your shoulders. If your decision to end it all is final, then I will abide by it and Draco won't be able to do anything about it. Think about your options and choose wisely." His hand poised on the knob again, he looked back once more. "And I took the liberty of ordering tea for you, by the way. That elf should be about ready with it by now. I have to go to the office for a bit and settle everything there, then I'll come back later in the evening, after your Diagon Alley stint." And with that, he left, leaving Ginny blinking bemusedly in the middle of her study, unable to decide how to take the bomb he had just dropped in her lap. Again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny was still thinking about Lucius' revelation 2 hours later as she and the twins leisurely traversed the crowded lanes and shops in Diagon Alley. She should have been taking in all the new shops and the development of the small village in the four years she'd been away, but her mind was too full of what her not-quite father-in-law had reluctantly told her.

Was it really that simple?

She'd asked herself that question several times, after Lucius had left, afraid to believe and cling on to the hope that her freedom was so very near at hand. Of course, that was supposing Draco would soon be taking that final step towards completely throwing away his right to the twins; with him, the only certainty was to have everything down on paper, signed, sealed and, if she had her way, magically laminated, so there was no way of destroying the evidence of his choice.

It was the only option she left open for herself. She didn't delude herself into believing that she was over him; she wasn't, it would probably be a long time before she could reach that point where the sight of him wouldn't leave her feeling winded and empty, but she was going to get to that point, no matter the cost to herself. The future was exactly that, after all, far away, and she was going to let it take care of itself.

Of Luke and Nicole, she didn't doubt that once they were older, they would discover for themselves the circumstances surrounding their births. They were growing up to be unusually smart kids, far more advanced than any other child their age, a fact that made her proud and uneasy at the same time. The pranks that they'd engaged in had made her question what they were capable of doing later on, when they were a bit older, if they were already so adept at it at the age of three. Fred and George had walked around barrel-chested for two days after their nephew and niece had pranked them, they were that proud of them. It wasn't really a complicated prank, but considering they were only three, it was a big deal to them all. Later, when she found out it was Nicole who thought of the prank, quiet, demure, and shy Nicole, she really started to worry. She didn't want to add with good reason, but it nevertheless hung in the air. Of the two, Nicole was more devious and cunning, and though she didn't want to admit it, more like Draco than Luke could ever be.

"Mommy, where's Nicky?"

Ginny looked down at Luke's anxious face. It took a few seconds before what he said registered, then fear like she'd never felt before blossomed in her chest.

"What do you mean? Weren't you with Annie out back being fitted?" They were at Little Witches and Wizards, a new children clothes store which also boasts the added benefit of a mini playground for bored kids waiting for their turn for the fitting, or for those that refused to be fitted.

Luke shuffled his feet, pulling at his Marvin the Martian shirt restlessly. "I didn't want to stay in there, it was stupid. They keep sticking needles at me," he complained, his face pinched in disgust.

Ginny started to panic, which would never do; she didn't want to make her son feel guilty for leaving his sister to deal with the fussy attentions of the dressmaker, something which she knew was the kind of fussy attention he hated. "Think, Luke, how long ago did you sneak away from there? Are you sure you didn't just overlook?"

Luke shook his head firmly. "Nuh-uh! I looked and looked, she wasn't there. I had to run when that lady saw me. She weren't in there."

On cue, the harassed looking Annie came out, looking fit to pull out her hair in aggravation. "Ms. Weasley, really, your children are more than I can take. That one had the gall to transfigure my needles into jelly sticks," she pointed accusingly at Luke, who had quickly hidden himself behind his mother's legs, sticking out his tongue at the red-faced woman, "and now the other has managed to disappear on me! It's too much!"

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously; it was clear that the dressmaker thought her the kid's nanny instead of their mother. She wasn't usually so touchy about that kind of mistake, many others had made the same after all; the twins were just so different from her coloring that it was easy to assume they were somebody elses. And her feet wasn't so far off the ground that she would be offended at being mistaken for Luke and Nicole's nanny, a role that she had sometimes played out when traveling incognito. But for somebody to criticize her children, especially since they were acting like children, that she would not take sitting down.

"Mrs. Wimburne, I don't see how your inefficiency is in any way a reflection of my children's manners. I fail to see how you could justify working in an industry working solely with children when you have so little understanding of their natures. And now you've even managed to lose my daughter!" She took a deep breath, the menace in her eyes not escaping the proprietor's notice. "If anything should happen to my daughter, I will make sure you never work in this industry, or anywhere else, ever again."

By the widening of the other woman's eyes, Ginny knew she understood it was a promise she issued, not a threat. She didn't realize that she had sounded very much like a certain elitist blond wizard, a man who could put the shivers in even the bravest, or foolhardy, man without so much as saying Boo!

Giving the dressmaker a frosty glare, she took Luke's arm. "Let's go find your sister, Luke."

They marched out of the store, full of haughty disdain, but inwardly, Ginny was quaking. Where could her daughter be? This was the first time she'd done something this thoughtless, and Nicole was never thoughtless. There must have been something powerful enough to make her go off without her mother's knowledge.

She walked briskly up and down the crowded Alley, her grip on Luke not abating. But her son's too short legs weres limiting her movements to a bare minimum, so, with fear for her daughter's safety as her driving force, she picked up the quiet boy before resuming her search. It shouldn't be too difficult locating the little girl if she had merely wandered off, not too many had hair as fair as her after all. She kept repeating that litany to herself; it was the only hope she had after all.

Fifteen minutes later, she felt her heart leap when she saw a familiar head of hair inside one of the shops. But she was having quite a difficult time believing that of all places to go to, this would be the one her daughter would have wandered to.

Luke started squirming when he saw where they were. "Lemme down, Mommy, lemme down!"

As soon as Ginny complied, the little boy dashed inside Quality Quidditch Supplies; she followed sedately behind, her eyes locked on her daughter, who looked to be speaking with somebody hidden behind a rack. She could hear Luke's excited voice above the din of the shop, oohing and ahhing over the different brooms and quidditch supplies offered by the shop, but her eyes were on Nicole.

With hands on her hips, she looked down at her daughter's arrested face, ignoring whoever it was she was talking to.

"Nicole Adrianne Weasley Malfoy! What the devil do you mean by disappearing on me and your brother like that? You almost gave me a heart attack, young lady!"

Nicole had jumped in fright when Ginny started her rant, then when she saw it was only her mother, she smiled that sweet smile that never failed to make anyone who saw it say 'Awww!'

Ginny refused to let that smile affect her. "Don't you smile at me, young lady! I ought to take a stick to your bottom!" she threatened, her eyes narrowed. She wouldn't, of course, she didn't believe in that kind of punishment, but she needed to say it if only to impress to her daughter the kind of risk she took, and that it wasn't acceptable for her just to go wandering off anytime she liked.

Nicole's smile never wavered. "But Mommy, I met someone!" she said excitedly.

Ginny's brows rose, intrigued despite herself. Her hard-to-impress little girl wandered off because she met someone? Taking a deep breath, she kept her hands on her hips. "Very well; who is this someone that got you so excited you forgot you're not supposed to lose sight of us?"

Nicole beamed and pulled at somebody behind the rack. "Him!" she declared excitedly, gesticulating wildly at the person she was clutching, in danger of poking out an eye in her excitement.

Ginny's brows rose even higher. The boy, for he was only a boy, was about six years old, and if she thought her kids had white hair, they couldn't hold a candle to him. He had hair so white it was almost like snow, and the odd thing was, he looked very familiar, as though he was someone she'd met years ago, which was crazy thinking; the boy would only have been a speck of tadpole about to meet its mate several years ago, she couldn't have met him before.

"Hello?" she greeted guardedly, her arms falling on her sides. "What's your name?" The boy just looked at her, as though she was somebody he couldn't quite comprehend. Ginny tried again.

"Where're your parents?" Nothing. "Are you lost?" More silence.

"He doesn't talk," Nicole confided, her hold on the boy's hands not lessening. "I've been trying to talk to him for forever, but he just looks at me. Why is that, Mommy?" She turned wide, trusting eyes at her mother, her expression clearly stating that her mother would be the one person who could clarify something she couldn't quite understand.

Ginny eyed the boy closely, the feeling that he looked familiar not leaving her. "May he's just shy, honey, lots of kids are taught not to talk to strangers. I did tell you not to talk to strangers, too, didn't I?"

Nicole pouted. "But I'm not a stranger, I'm a girl."

Ginny didn't even want to touch on that one. She kneeled in front of the quiet boy, who didn't look to be the shy type if his stance was anything to judge by. "Why do I get the feeling that I should know you?" she murmured quietly, her eyes roving over the boy's face.

"Mommy! Mommy! I got to have this, Mommy! Please, please, please!" Luke barreled into their quiet threesome, clutching at a miniature model of the newest broom in the Quidditch League, a Lightning Bolt 3000. He opened his mouth, about to resume his pleading for the prized broom, when he saw who it was they had with them. "Oh!" he said, curiosity on his face as he looked at the older boy.

Ginny started to remind Luke not to dash about like that, especially in a place where dangerous items were strewn about, when a familiar voice calling out a name made the boy react.

"Philippe! Philippe!" Then followed mutterings in a language that she had learned under duress while living as Moira Welsh. She was startled to hear the boy respond, the French spewing from his mouth as he called to the woman calling out for Philippe.

Not ten seconds later, she came face to face with the woman who had broken her brother's heart.

Fleur's eyes were only for the boy as she scolded him for disappearing on her, her busy hands checking him over for any hurt he might have incurred while out of her sight. Finally satisfied that the boy was all right, she straightened, a smile on her lips as she looked at the woman who had found her son. Her smile froze when she saw who it was she had thought of thanking for finding her errant boy.

Ginny finally understood why the boy had looked so familiar; he looked exactly as her brother had at that age in the photo album her mother always bandied about, and which never failed to embarrass Bill. Except for the hair, which was all Fleur's, there was no question as to the boy's father.

She looked up from the boy and inclined her head at the stunned, and caught look in Fleur's eyes. "Fleur."

"Ginny," Fleur breathed out fearfully, her hold on her son tightening, making the little boy squirm.

"I suppose you have an explanation for this," she said mildly, though her thoughts were far from being mild.

Fleur visibly swallowed. "Yes, but it's not important, it doesn't matter."

Ginny frowned. "Of course it matters! Why didn't you tell my brother he had a son?" She knew how hypocritical she sounded, demanding that from Fleur when she herself was in the same boat, but somehow, it felt entirely different when it was your family denied the knowledge of a child they would have happily welcomed.

Fleur's chin rose in defiance. "Your brother hates me, he believes that I slept around, cheated on him. Who's to say he wouldn't think Philippe was somebody else's? I couldn't take the chance, didn't want to take the chance." She looked down at Philippe, who didn't understand a word of what they were saying. "He is all I've got now, I have no family anymore. When I got pregnant, my parents disowned me and I've been alone since."

"But why didn't you tell Bill?" Ginny demanded.

Fleur's smile was brittle. "Why? Bill can have any woman he wants, I was just one of many. I loved him, I gave him everything, but he was only amused by me, by what I felt for him." She placed her hands on her son's shoulders. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my son and I need to go home."

Ginny's jaw clenched; Fleur greatly underestimated her if she thought she could just waltz out of there and hide Philippe for many years again. She looked at her own children, who were looking at Philippe expectantly; she had never tried it before, she was always afraid of what might happen if she encouraged the twins to keep on doing it, but now there was no choice now.

"Luke, Nicky," she called their attention, taking Nicole's hand. Luke understood right away, and with his other arm still clutching the broom lovingly, grabbed hold of his sister's hand. Fleur was just passing them, intent of going their way. Ginny grabbed hold of Philippe's left hand as he passed, and with a loud 'The Burrow! NOW!', she felt the world shift at her feet for all of two seconds.

When she felt the ground stop moving beneath her feet, she was thankful that she was still whole.

"Grandma, Grandma, I got a new broom!"

Ginny slapped her right hand on her forehead; the day was just getting better and better.

They had appeared in the Burrow's living room where her parents and brothers, minus Ron and Charlie, were gathered looking stunned at the way they had appeared. That their shock may have something to do with who the youngest Weasley had appeared with didn't escape her notice.

"What's going on, Gin? What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bill's tone suggested she explain herself right away.

"Bill! There's children around, mind your language," Molly admonished.

"How dare you! This is kidnapping!" Fleur accused, glaring at Ginny and clutching Philippe against her stomach, effectively hiding his face from the assembled redheads.

Bill stood up and towered over Fleur, letting her see what he thought of her. "Nobody's keeping you here. We have enough trash around without adding more to the pile."

Fleur sucked in a breath. Ginny could see the trouble she was having, keeping the tears at bay, and she wanted to smack her brother.

"Thank you, William. If you would kindly remind your sister not to bother me in the future, maybe we could avoid this unpleasantness altogether. If you'll excuse me." Keeping her son's face pressed against her side, she stuck her chin in the air and started for the door.

Ginny was having none of that, and from the look on her daughter's face, she felt the same way too. Advancing on the retreating duo, Nicole planted herself on their path while Ginny gently pulled Philippe away from the protesting Fleur.

"Mum, Dad," her voice lowered, "Bill." She presented Philippe. "I'd like you to meet your son."