Sweet Bondage

Chapter 18: Truths 101

Draco fell into step with Ginny, his eyes only for the woman beside him. She was being extra careful not to touch any part of his body as they walked to where the twins were, and it galled him to the core the way she was treating him, as though he was something infectious, malignant, as though she wanted nothing to do with him. And deep inside him it hurt, much more than he ever thought it possible to hurt. He wanted to just grab her, and shake her, and make her see that she couldn't possibly mean the words she'd said to him earlier. She'd told him she loved him before, surely she wasn't so fickle that she would easily change her mind about that? She just couldn't!

And why shouldn't she? Draco Jr. goaded, his tone bored. You certainly haven't shown her any reason not to rethink whatever it was she felt for you before. Don't you remember? You laughed when she told you what she felt for you. If you'd only been honest with her then, maybe you wouldn't be so hard up now. But as the case now stands? Regret is such a mean bedfellow, ain't it?

Draco briefly closed his eyes as he cursed the pestilence that resided in his head. Draco Jr. had always had bad timing, always, but he couldn't have picked a better time to intrude on his concentration than that moment. He needed to keep all his wits about him; if he suddenly started arguing with himself in front of Ginny and his children, that was a sure fire way of getting the boot out of their lives without a by-your-leave. Who would want a man with a schizophrenic predisposition for a father anyway? They'd managed so far without one and they'd probably be thanking their lucky stars he hadn't been around if they thought he was not quite right in the head.

That's quite a dilemma, I agree with you there. It would be really interesting to see what Ginny's reaction would be, once you started talking to yourself. My experience over the years have not been pretty, I can tell you that much. Funny, but not pretty.

Draco put all concentration on putting his foot in front of the other, and on not looking grim as he contemplated on how best to extract his revenge on his 'voice of reason'.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Have you forgotten I don't have a corporeal form, my boy? My, my, and this so early in the game. However will you survive the next several days? Or weeks? Or dare I say it - months! Even years! Someone should just put you out of your misery, that way you won't be prolonging your agony and be done with it already.

"I swear - !" Draco stopped and gritted his teeth, staring straight ahead. He could feel Ginny's curious stare and he wanted to snap at her. It was the first time Draco Jr. had goaded him to the point of talking out loud with other people within hearing distance, and worse, Ginny was looking at him as though he had gone mental all of a sudden, which he probably had.

"What? You swear what? Are you all right?" Ginny asked hesitantly, edging inconspicuously a few inches more away from him. And that made him finally snap.

Perversely, he breached her personal space, caught the arm she raised to ward him off and linked it through the crook of his elbows. As if not satisfied with what he had done, he moved his face down close to hers and spoke clearly into her indignant face:

"I don't have a disease you can catch simply by holding my arm. And if you even think of moving away from me, I swear on Merlin's grave I'll kiss you in front of all these people, gossip be damned. Got it? Good." He didn't wait for her reply and motioned for her to resume walking, arching one arrogant brow as though daring her to prove he hadn't been making idle threats.

Ginny bit her tongue; narrowing her eyes at him, she did as bidden. She knew very well the trouble Draco promised was not a threat, and though the very idea of being that close to him again was exhilarating, she also knew that giving in to his charms once again would only be perpetuating a cycle of never ending abuse between the two of them. And that was something she was not prepared to subject Luke and Nicole to.

Draco could not believe how right it felt to have Ginny in his arms. She was beautiful, yes, that was already a given, but beauty all by itself could get boring. There was more to her than just her looks, and from the not so discreet admiring glances she was getting from the other men around the cavernous ballroom, they were more than eager to find out what that something was, if he'd only step aside and make himself scarce. Yes, it was more than just her physical package; in fact, he would even go so far as to say that she was meant only for him, freckles and all. She was his complete antithesis, and yet, somehow, they fit.

Admittedly, he had been with many women, all of them undoubtedly beautiful - sadly, all of them also thought it was their ingrained right to be worshipped and have the world laid down at their feet. At best he was an indifferent lover, most of the time playing on the women's vanities, letting them think she was Cleopatra to his Anthony, his Juliet to his Romeo. They preened, they stuck their noses in the air, they gloated, thinking that they had managed to triumph where so many others had failed so miserably before them. And he had let them think it. He had let them think that no other had suited him better than she was, and he was glib enough to pull it off time and time again.

Some of the women he'd been with thought he was perverse, beastly, rotten to the core, but his defense had always been that what he did with them was nothing they didn't know beforehand, nothing they hadn't gone through with other like-minded men. He told them what they wanted to hear, spun tales only the vainest could possibly believe, and if they fell for it hook, line and sinker, who was he not to take advantage of the opportunity presented? He didn't go out of his way to fool any of them; they were the ones who came to him thinking they were the one woman destined to institute change on the unattainable Draco Malfoy. Not one of them thought for a second that their quest was doomed to fail even before they'd begun, for Draco Malfoy, the only heir to the vast Malfoy fortune, had unknowingly shut the doors to that possibility a long time ago. He may have to marry one day, but like everything else in his life, his approach to that particular chore wasn't going to be guided by silly little prerequisites like emotions and all the baggage that went along with it. Not even Dianne had managed to make him change his mind, though he'd thought about it.

He had only really seriously toyed with the idea of marrying for reasons other than apathy, just once, and that only recently; he'd ultimately decided he didn't like the complication it could bring to his well-ordered life. In fact, only Ginny had made him question his decision, and look what that had brought him? He was now forever being harassed by a ghost in his head, and try as he might, there was no dislodging Draco Jr. from his position of comfort.

Then again, if he was to be honest with himself, it wasn't altogether unpleasant the way Ginny made him feel. It made him uncomfortable, yes, and he was actively looking for ways to put an end to the way he felt for her, but of all the women he'd been with, Ginny Weasley was the exception that made up the rule. For the first time he felt as though he truly belonged. With her, he didn't have to pretend; with her, he could be himself, and he wouldn't be found wanting.

Oh, boo-hoo! Getting sappy there, aren't we, Draco? Draco Jr. interrupted his thoughts, pretending to gag. I never thought the day would come when the aloof and arrogant Draco Malfoy would one day yield to an emotion he had once called spurious and a total waste of time. I seem to remember you laughing your head off at the idea of soul mates, love at first sights and destinies. Singing a different tune, are we?

Shut your gob! Draco thought harshly, doing his best not to show the tension he was under on his body. You should be happy I'm finally doing something you've been haranguing me to do since day one. Don't ruin this for me now!

I think you're doing that just fine all by your lonesome, Draco Jr. scoffed. And I've never told you to blackmail Ginny into staying with you; that's the lowest form of coercion in my book. I say, if the lady doesn't want you, cut your losses and go. It's very bad form to suddenly be interested in anybody just because she had finally decided you weren't worth the time of day. Very bad sport.

I don't care what you think! If I have to tie Ginny to my side to keep her there, then that's just what I'll do.

Let me know how that works out for you. Oh, wait, silly me! Draco Jr. chuckled, I know beforehand how that'll work out for you. Good luck, my boy. I see you'll be needing lots of it in the future.

Draco waited, then heaved a sigh of relief when he felt Draco Jr's. presence recede; he didn't know how long he would be able to withstand his heckling before he lost control of what little patience he had, a patience that he badly needed if he had to deal with Ginny's refusal of his plea.

"Now I know something's really wrong!" Ginny suddenly said, whirling around to face him. "What is wrong with you? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were in pain! If you've suddenly decided you don't want to go through with this, then by all means, speak up! I am not going to force my children on you so you don't have to martyr yourself in your efforts to do the right thing!"

Draco looked at the irate woman before him, and right then and there decided he'd had enough of keeping his inclinations at bay. It had not escaped his notice that they had reached a semi-secluded area a few feet from the room they previously were in, and so he didn't hesitate in taking advantage of the situation.

Ginny didn't have enough time to escape him, and found herself pushed up against the wall, his large body practically nailing her against the cold concrete. And if that wasn't bad enough, he then wrapped his left arm around her waist and slowly, purposely, fitted his body against hers. She tried to avert her eyes but with great deliberation, he tipped her chin up, his aristocratic fingers languorously stroking her face, from her brows to her chin, then back again.

Ginny closed her eyes; she was finding it hard to breathe properly. The way Draco felt, so close to her was pure torture. She wanted to yell at him, to demand that he stop manipulating her in this manner, but she didn't have enough will power to do so. She should have known asking Blaise to go ahead of them was a bad idea, but she had foolishly thought that Draco understood what she felt for him now; she hadn't taken into account that he wasn't one to just give up, especially when it came to something as important as his children. She had a feeling he would be as tenacious as Lucius, and she was not happy to be proven right. That, or somewhere inside herself, this was what she had hoped would happen when they were left alone.

Ginny banished the thought the minute it crossed her mind; that way lay disaster, and if she never learned anything in her life again, at least she learned that the hard way.

"What do you think you're doing?" She was relieved to hear that her voice sounded normal enough.

"Come on, Ginny," Draco said huskily, his breath fanning her cheeks, "why don't we forget about all that happened before and start over? You know you want to." He dropped a lingering kiss on the side of her mouth. "And I want to."

Ginny balled her fists and gritted her teeth; he was doing it again! He was using her physical response to him to get his way, and she wanted so much to wipe the smug look from his face with her fist. The only thing keeping her from doing so was the thought of her children; she didn't want their first proper introduction to their father with the latter's face all bloodied up.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him thinly. "That's just too bad, then. It's about time you worked hard for something for once in your life. I'm way past the stage where you can use my body to get what you want." With strength she didn't know she possessed, she pushed him off of her and glared at him. "Now if you're quite through with your intimidation tactics, there are people waiting for us." She forged ahead and halted before a door. Raising her brow in a perfect imitation of his more notable affectations, she looked back at him, her hand on the knob. "Coming?"

Draco forced himself to get over his shock and nodded. It was the first time his brand of coercion had failed him and he didn't quite know whether he should feel angry or irritated or proud of Ginny for putting him in his place. Seduction had been his tried and tested method of getting his own back almost half his life, and the one time he wanted it to work badly, it didn't. Strange that he wasn't decisive about how he should feel about that.

Without waiting for him to reach her side first, Ginny opened and sailed through the door. Bracing himself, Draco followed and faced the occupants of the room. With an ominous thud, he closed the door behind him and faced the greatest hurdle of his life.

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

"Do you think it's wise, leaving them together like that?"

Blaise looked down at Hermione and smirked. "Hell no! It's never wise to give Draco that kind of opening. Which is precisely why Ginny didn't have to twist my arm when she asked me to go - I want them to get together, and for that to happen, it's never a good idea for my delicious self to be anywhere nearby."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what, I liked you better in Hogwarts. I prefer your brooding side to this Cassanova image you like to project. At least then, I knew when to take you seriously or not."

"That's good to know." Harry handed her a glass full of orange liquid. "Here you go." Having done so, he possessively wrapped an around her waist and cocked a brow at Blaise. "What were you just talking about?"

"Oh, nothing much," Blaise answered, putting on a sad face. "Hermione was just telling me how much she loved me back in Hogwarts, and that if you hadn't acted like a madman and swore you'd kill yourself if she didn't break it off with me, she and I would have made a lovely couple. She didn't have a choice then since you had yet to kill Voldemort, and there was really no one else who could do it. So she sacrificed her happiness and became your muse. Sad, really."

Harry merely grinned. "That was quite a mouthful, Zabini, really inventive. Considering Voldemort died in our sixth year, yeah sure, whatever you say. But if you ever opt for an early retirement, I'm sure the Daily Prophet would be more than happy to engage your services. That was fantastic story telling, right up there with Rita Skeeter's, I'm sure."

"Sure, sure, mock me now, but one day I'll have the last laugh." He brandished a fist in the air to emphasize his point. "I, Blaise Zabini, will win in the end!"

"You're such a drama queen, Zabini," a new voice interrupted Blaise's monologue.

Blaise scowled at Ginny's best friend. "No one asked your opinion, Creevey."

Colin ignored him and turned to Harry and Hermione, who were openly laughing at the disgruntled Blaise. "I was looking for Ginny. Do you know where she's off to?"

Hermione grinned and nodded. "She's introducing Draco to the twins. Why?"

Colin sighed. "I was afraid of that. It's just that I got a call from Sarah; apparently, she's in London, and was getting quite frantic when she couldn't locate Ginny anywhere. A friend of mine at the police station called me up and warned me that she had filed a Missing Person's report when nobody could tell her where our favorite redhead was."

Harry's interest was immediately piqued. "Who's Sarah? And you never mentioned you were acquainted with any muggle officers."

Colin looked at Harry and promptly forgot what it was he was talking about. Hermione's giggle and the hard punch to the shoulder blades Zabini threw at him brought him back to earth.

"You're pathetic, Creevey, d'you know that? After all this years, you're still hung up on scarface?" Blaise smirked. "Get a life, man!"

Both Harry and Colin turned red in the face. Only Hermione's amusement saved the moment from turning into a total disaster.

"Leave him alone, Blaise. You're just jealous my husband gets more attention than you." She winked at Colin, who smiled at her gratefully.

"The day I become jealous of Potter is the day I decide to come out of the closet, my dearest Hermione."

"Shut up, you," Harry told him off, but there was no rancor in his tone of voice. "You talk far too much. You were saying, Colin?"

Colin cleared his throat and glared at Blaise. "Right. As I was saying, Sarah's a friend of ours back in New York. I don't know what she's doing here, as she was supposed to be hiding out in her parent's place somewhere in the States. Fortunately, the report she filed was given to Detective Michaels, who recognized Ginny's name and promptly called me, who then gave my contact number to Sarah once I told her it was okay for her to do so."

"Ah." Harry's forehead creased in bewilderment. "Then what's the problem? It sounds as though this Sarah is not a dangerous person."

Colin sighed. "The problem is is that Sarah wanted to take up Ginny's offer to host her visit here in London."

"And?"

"Sarah's a Muggle."

"Oh." Silence reigned for a minute before Hermione spoke up. "You mean a Muggle Muggle, or a Muggleborn?"

Colin ignored Blaise's casual comment about the two being the same. "Let's just say if she saw one broom flying around, she's liable to admit herself to an asylum for lunatics."

"That is a problem," Hermione remarked, looking deep in thought.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Harry asked casually, taking a sip of his own drink.

Colin sighed again. "I was hoping to catch Ginny before the Big Confrontation, but since that's out of the question now, I'll have to try and deal with this situation myself."

"Just wait for Ginny to finish up with the Malfoys," Harry suggested.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"She's already at my apartment. That's why I disappeared for a few minutes, had to pick her up at her hotel. She didn't want to wait another minute and insisted on seeing me right away. Apparently, she's been here for three days. And before you ask, I can't leave her alone in there for long, who knows what she might discover. And I can't just take her over to the Manor either, especially with Ginny not there."

"Why not? I'm sure Ginny wouldn't mind. If this Sarah person is a good friend of hers, there's plenty of room in the manor; one more occupied space wouldn't cramp that monstrosity."

"Are you kidding me? I couldn't possibly!" Colin said fervently, horror etched plainly on his face. "With Lucius always underfoot, who knows what could happen!"

They were silent again for a short while. Colin was essentially justified in his apprehension; even if Lucius had seemed to develop a high tolerance for the other side of the fence, so to speak, it was still everyone's guess what he would do when thrust into the company of Muggles for more than an hour at a time. Then Blaise threw in his suggestion.

"She could always come and stay with me."

Colin's worry was immediately replaced with suspicion and disbelief. "Ha! I don't think so, Zabini. Sarah is in a bad place right now, and the last thing she needs is an oversexed stallion rearing to go. Ginny would kill me if I let you get within an inch of our friend."

Blaise scoffed. "Oh please! I do have taste you know; I don't just take any woman into my bed. This Sarah person would have to be one of a kind for you to worry about her virtue. And stop laughing, Potter, before I hex your bits off!"

"If you see Sarah, believe me, you'll want her in your bed," Colin declared prophetically, ignoring the dark scowl on the Italian's face. "Anyway, I'll just go and check on her for a minute. It's a good thing I had a fireplace installed in my bedroom; if she had to see me coming out of one, well, you know what I mean. If I don't get back and you see Ginny, will you tell her where I'm off to?" he asked Hermione. "I really should go."

"We'll tell her," Hermione promised. "See you, Colin." They watched the blond man weave through the throng of people until they couldn't see him anymore.

"I can't believe he doesn't trust me with a Muggle," Blaise stated wonderingly. "I ought to feel insulted."

Harry snorted. "I wouldn't trust you around a female elf, Zabini, now what does that say about you?"

"That you may have weird kinks, Potter, but I assure you I am not so inclined," Blaise said haughtily, the Zabini pride oozing out of him in waves.

"Shut up, both of you," Hermione said mildly. "Since you two are now off guard detail, let's go eat; I'm quite hungry all of a sudden."

Harry immediately laid a gentle hand over Hermione's growing abdomen. "Right. Let's go feed my baby, shall we? Oh, and Zabini, if you're wanting to come with us, don't hog the buffet this time. I have two people to feed, you know; you pigging out gives my wife the urge to puke."

"I resent that!" Blaise complained loudly as he followed the couple. He didn't pig out, truly he didn't. Just because he had an appreciation for the finer things in life, from the bedroom to the dining room, and wasn't afraid to show it didn't mean he pigged out. And was it his fault Hermione was pregnant and was constantly throwing up all over the place? That was all Potter's fault; if it was otherwise his fault, he doubted he would have been able to see the light of day the minute that was established.

Really, some people just don't think with the head above their shoulders, Blaise thought morosely, as he trailed behind his partner and his ex-girlfriend.

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

"Mum, I think it's time I go see about Ginny," Bill whispered quietly, keeping his face averted from the rabid press.

Molly Weasley smiled and nodded at her eldest. "I think that would be best. I'd go with you, but - " she gestured faintly at the crush surrounding her husband, " - I don't think your father will thank me for abandoning him for this. Tell Ginny we'll try to see her before they have to go, but if we don't get there, we'll just see her later at the Manor. And make sure you keep your head on you; we don't need Philippe running in fright at the sight of his father, now do we?"

Bill nodded grimly and maneuvered his way from the crowd. No one tried to intercept him - the expression on his face wasn't exactly welcoming - and so it only took him a few minutes to reach his destination. He had excellent timing; right when he'd rounded the corner towards the room he'd left his son in with an impromptu nanny, he saw her sister and Malfoy entering the room themselves. He did not particularly relish this part of the night's program, but it had to be done. He so wanted to roast the younger Malfoy over a roaring fire, but his mother had told him that that would be counterproductive; he knew doing that wouldn't solve anything, but at least some of the hostility he had hoarded up against the younger man would be appeased. Pity.

Reaching the closed door, he fixed the most menacing expression he could summon on his face then turned the knob of the door and entered.

" - not mine!" Draco asserted vehemently, shaking his head as though to emphasize his point.

Bill surveyed the spacious sitting room, noting Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were seated together, with Luke and Nicole and his son playing by their feet. Or they were playing. At the moment they were staring up at the determined looking man standing a few feet from them. He didn't understand what had occurred between the time Draco had entered and his arrival, but whatever it was, it looked as though Draco was about to burst a vein. Curious, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe; no one acknowledged his presence, and that suited him just fine.

"I swear, Ginny, he's not mine. You've got to believe me!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic, Draco. Of course he's not yours. You didn't give me time to introduce him before you started getting red in the face." She turned her back on him and opened her arms to Luke and Nicole, who went to her eagerly.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Luke asked quietly, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck.

"Yes, baby. I told you I'd be fine, didn't I? Did you behave yourself with your Grandpa and Grandma?"

Luke looked timidly up at the pale man looking down at them before nodding and hiding her face on the side of his mother's neck.

Ginny chuckled. "What this? Not getting shy, are you? Not my brave little monster!"

Nicole tugged at her mother's dress. "Is it true, Mommy?" she asked quietly. "Is he our Daddy?"

Ginny smiled at her daughter. "Yes, honey. Would you like to meet him?"

Nicole stared at her mother and started worrying her lip.

Ginny watched her daughter's eyes closely, seeing the conflict there. She didn't know what Lucius and Narcissa had told her and her brother while she and Draco had not been around, but at least some of the wariness in her eyes was gone. There was still indecision there, and Draco would have to tread cautiously around that, but at least most of his daughter's suspicions about him had been tempered. By how much she didn't know yet. Only time would tell.

"I guess," Nicole said finally, looking up at her father. "Grandpa Lucius said he's his boy."

Ginny nodded. "He was, several years ago, just as you and your brother are my own little girl and boy." She dropped a kiss on her forehead and after urging Luke to stand beside his sister, stood up and faced Draco. With a hand on each of their shoulder and an encouraging smile on her face, she commenced with the introductions.

"Luke, Nicky, I'd like you meet your father, Draco." Turning her eyes to the pale man standing before them, she raised her chin proudly and introduced her children. "Draco, this is Luke Ian and Nicole Adrianne, my - your children."

Luke shuffled his feet, refusing to look up at his father; he had a fistful of Ginny's dress clutched in his little hand. Nicole wasn't as shy as her brother; she was staring up at her father with a curious expression on her face.

Draco was dangerously close to following Luke's lead; this was the most uncomfortable situation he had ever found himself in, and he didn't know what to do with himself. Should he go down on his haunches and open his arms to them? Should he talk to them? What should he talk to them about? How does one go about acting like a father, anyway, for Merlin's sake?

Draco was about ready to bolt, he was that unsure of himself, when Nicole stepped forward and tilted her head at him.

"You look just like my brother," she observed, her gray eyes narrowed.

Draco swallowed his tongue. Unable to say anything, he just nodded, looking down at her, then past her to her brother. He jerked back to attention when she resumed talking.

"Where have you been?"

Forget swallowed tongues; Draco felt his gut being wrenched out and knotted before his very eyes. How the hell could he answer this girl's seemingly innocent question without sounding like a complete ass?

He looked up at Ginny; she found the painting hanging by the left side of the room suddenly interesting. Right, no help from that quarter, obviously. He didn't need to look at his parents to know none was forthcoming there as well. He was all alone in this ordeal.

He cleared his throat. "Well, um, what you have to understand, Nicole, is that - "

"Nicky."

Draco blinked. "Pardon?"

Nicole thrust out her chin. "My name is Nicky."

Draco blinked again. "Oh. I thought your mother said it was Nicole Adrianne?"

"Noooo," Nicole dragged out, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Only my teachers ever call me Nicole Adrianne. And Mommy, when she's trying to be mean."

Draco was at a loss; on the one hand, it was good that his daughter wanted him to call her by her nickname, but on the other hand, she hadn't actually told him he could use the preferred name himself. Completely lost, he drew a deep breath and risked it.

"Well, Nicky, I - what were we just talking about?"

The expression on her face now was not in the least encouraging; she looked as though she had made up her mind about him already!

"I asked where you've been?" she repeated impatiently. She had her arms crossed in front of her frilly dress now, and she didn't look too impressed with his seeming lack of attention to her question.

Draco shrugged helplessly. "Not here, I guess," he said simply. When it looked as though she was waiting for more explanation, he wracked his brain for an explanation that would not leave him hanging out to dry. "I was in France," he finally blurted out. "It's very far away from here; your grandfather sent me there to take care of some business, and there I've been for the last four years." Unconsciously, he raked a hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. "I didn't know about you and your brother; I guess France was really too far away for news about you two to reach me." He glared at Lucius to make it clear as to whom he held accountable for that great oversight.

"I've been to France," Nicole stated simply. "Mommy took us there many times. It's not very far away."

Yeah, but when one evil bastard is making sure you're left clueless, France can be light years away from England, he thought bitterly, the vein in his neck throbbing dangerously.

"I never meant to stay away so long, and I don't know what I can say that'll convince you of that," he said quietly, looking earnestly down at his daughter. "But if I had known, I promise you, I wouldn't have let a day go by without trying to see you."

Nicole was quiet for a few minutes, silently contemplating the earnest adult standing before her. She looked back at her mother, her face thoughtful.

"I heard Uncle Ron talk about a Draco turning into a ferret, Mommy. It's him, isn't he," Nicole asked innocently, unaware of the air of danger emanating from her father, his expected reaction when reminded of that embarrassing episode of his youth.

Ginny bit her lip, hard, to keep from smiling. She knew how much Draco must have hated being reminded about that bit of transfiguration he had been subjected to, but it was just too good a moment to pass up.

"Yes, honey, that's him."

Draco glared at Ginny; he had tried to put that particular memory as far back into his subconscious as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was a reminder of it courtesy of a little girl a third his size, and the redheaded witch who had just turned his life upside down inside of an hour.

"Can I see it then?"

The request sounded innocent enough, but when Draco saw the sly look his daughter was giving him under lowered lashes, and the slight upward movement of one side of her mouth, he didn't even think about moderating his language.

"Hell, no! When I'm dead and buried, maybe; then again, maybe not! But I will not hear of any talk about turning anyone into a ferret when I'm around. Least of all me!"

"Draco! Mind your tongue, young man!" Narcissa rose from her seat majestically and stood beside Ginny, glaring at her son.

"She smirked at me!" Draco complained, gesturing at Nicole. "If she can do that then she can do a lot of other things."

Ginny looked at the mutinous look on the older woman's face and bit her tongue; not saying anything to negate what Draco had said was prudent under such circumstances. She had no problem believing what he accused her - their - daughter of doing. Nicole, with her seemingly sweet and nice temperament, was in truth as wily as any future Slytherin came. No one had come and outright told her that her daughter was scary; all of those who have had the pleasure of being in Nicole's company have all commented on how well-behaved she was and how much they wished their own little girl were like her. If their little girls or boys complained otherwise, they merely chalked it up to simple rivalry. If only they knew.

It wasn't that her daughter was evil, oh no! Far from it, in fact. Nicole was a very friendly little girl; she had no problems sharing her toys or anything else she had with her friends. But she was just too much like her father; at such an early age she was already showing signs of being an elitist, and proud of it too. Ginny had been doing her best to try and curb that undesirable trait in her daughter, but she was having slow to little success, even with the unwitting help of her son. What made her efforts so difficult was that, more often than not, Nicole was almost always right; she had the uncanny way of weeding out the people who had ulterior motives against her or her family. How do you go about telling your daughter that she should be nice when her gut instinct told her she shouldn't?

Which was why she was so afraid of Nicole's response to Draco. It wouldn't take very long for Nicole to sense the kind of man her father was, and her being a mere four-year-old, she just might jump to conclusions where Draco was concerned, no questions asked. Granted, any conclusion Nicole might come up with may not be too far off the mark, but it had nothing to do with her personally and everything to do with how her father had been brought up.

It was just that Nicole was at an age where everything was cut and dried; she was becoming increasingly aware of who it was that comprised the core group of her family, and any outsider was highly suspect. It didn't help at all that she had a pair of uncles that delighted in turning her into a mischievous, highly creative little girl (to put a polite name to what Nicole was, anyway); coupled with her natural unquenchable thirst for the unknown, there was no knowing exactly to what depths she might go to express herself.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Draco!" Narcissa admonished her son, bringing Ginny up short. "It doesn't become a full grown man like you to whine. Really, blaming your own daughter like that. I never!"

"I wasn't whining!" Draco denied hotly, his faced flushed. "I was just pointing out what I saw."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "You are not endearing yourself to your children at all, Draco Malfoy."

Draco shut his mouth; he could never win in a situation like this. If he opened his mouth he would only be worsening his case. He knew he wasn't exactly acting like the contrite absentee father, but who would under such gross provocation? He sneaked a look at Ginny, and was further irritated when he saw she was grinning. Grinning! She was positively gloating at the way he was sinking in a pit he couldn't seem to stop digging for himself.

Ginny immediately wiped the smile from her face when she saw Draco looking at her, and produced one of gravest solemnity. She might have overdone it a bit though, when Draco's scowl turned even blacker.

"If you can't even be civil, Draco, I don't see the need for this meeting to go on any further," Narcissa threatened.

"NO!" Draco hurriedly interjected, panicking at the thought of being asked to leave. "Mother, I need this time. Can't you give me a break? I don't exactly know my way around this."

Narcissa glanced at the quiet witch beside her, then at Nicole, who didn't seem to have been affected by her father's loose tongue. She was at a loss on what to do; she wanted the twins to like Draco, but at the rate he was going, the opposite was bound to happen. Then there was Ginny; she hadn't expected to like the mother of her grandchildren so much, but the few minutes they had talked, she had decided that she couldn't have picked a better woman for her son if she'd tried. She knew Draco was intractable, and few people ever found that part of his personality to be admirable; she didn't want Ginny to suddenly decide she'd made a horrendous mistake and not give Draco a chance. The very thought of that happening was just unthinkable.

Seeing the agony of indecision on Narcissa's face, Ginny lay a comforting hand on her arms; she hadn't expected the older woman to show this much concern for her and her children, and silently berated herself. If Lucius, who was a certifiably cold bastard, could act like the most devoted parent over the twins, she shouldn't have expected less from Narcissa. From everything that she had heard about the blonde woman, she had half-formed a picture of a woman who was, if not physically similar to Molly Weasley, was nevertheless as equally dedicated to her family. And Luke and Nicole were her family, which made her, as the twins' mother, a part of that family as well, if only by default.

"It's okay, Narcissa, I can take this from here." She glanced briefly at the now stoic Draco, before flashing her a smile that was full of confidence. "Why don't you give us a moment with Draco? We'll be fine."

Before Narcissa could protest, Lucius was already beside her and had wrapped both arms around her, moving them both slowly towards the doors.

"You'll see them tomorrow, Cissa," Lucius reassured his wife softly. "It's time for us to go and finish supervising the elves; we still have a lot of things to pack."

"But surely not right now, Lucius!" Narcissa complained, looking back over at her grandchildren. "Doing that won't take long; why don't you go and do that while I stay here and keep the twins company?"

"No, Cissa," Lucius said firmly. "You'll have plenty of time to do that once we've moved. Trust me, you'll soon be complaining of constantly having those two around. Let's give this time to Draco; he's right, he needs this time with them." Lucius nodded at Bill, who had moved aside to let them pass. "William." Lucius nodded at Bill before opening the door.

Narcissa twisted around in her husband's arms and looked back at her grandchildren. "I'll see you soon, darlings." She smiled tremulously at the couple of 'goodbye, Grandmas' she received from the twins, and allowed her husband to guide her out the door.

Draco had stiffened upon hearing that the bane of his childhood was standing behind him. For how long, he didn't know; all he knew was that he didn't like it. Deciding to just ignore Ginny's brother for the time being, his eyes landed on the other boy whose parentage was still up for discussion.

"What about him?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the boy sitting Indian-style on the floor, playing with what looked to be a rather oddly angled man-doll.

Bill's hackles immediately rose. "What about him?" he demanded aggressively, coming forward and obstructing Draco's view of his son.

Draco ignored him. "Who is that boy, Ginny?"

Ginny sighed; she didn't know why Draco was so antagonistic towards her brother. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with what his father had felt toward her brother; that was ages ago!

"That's Philippe." She smiled at the boy when he looked up on hearing his name. "He's my brother's son."

One eyebrow rose. "Which one?"

Ginny wanted so much to say 'Duh! Which one is currently looking at you with murder in his eyes?' Instead, she simply answered him, "Bill."

"Really?" Draco drawled irritatingly. "Who was stupid enough to get it on with him?" He wasn't in the mood to be pleasant, and it provided him greater pleasure to know he was bugging the hell out of his father's perfect example of a son.

Ginny immediately put herself in between her brother and Draco; Draco wasn't thinking straight at the moment, and she feared what Bill might do to him under such blatant provocation. Draco might have grown into a big man, but Bill was still bigger, and no matter how much Draco might deserve a good thrashing, it didn't mean she wanted that to happen, especially with the children around to witness it all.

"Bill, get a hold yourself!" she snapped, pushing her brother back. "And you!" She rounded on Draco and pushed him back as well. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but I don't want to hear another derogatory word out of that mouth of yours, or so help me God, I'll make you sorry you ever spoke a word out of turn. Is that clear?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fascinated looks Philippe was giving Draco and his father, and she was sorely tempted to give each wizard a whack on the head. Inconsiderate Neanderthals!

She took a calming breath and turned to her brother. "Now. Why don't you take Philippe back home?" she suggested. "I'm sure Fleur must be getting worried right now. And you still have to talk to her," she reminded him sternly, ignoring the surprised sound Draco made. "If I were you, I'd try to do that as soon as possible, before this thing between you two gets any more complicated."

"What about him?" Bill said grimly, nodding his head at Draco.

"Don't worry about him; worry about how you'll convince your son to go with you." She extended her hand to the boy. "Philippe?"

"Oui, TANTE Ginny?" Philippe replied immediately, his eyes still riveted on the two large males facing off. At least, he had not put up a fuss when Ginny had asked him to call her aunt.

"Je veux que vous soyez allé avec votre père, Philippe," Ginny said gently, smiling at the little boy.

Philippe's eyes immediately became wary. "Pourquoi?"

"Il prendra vous soutient à votre Maman."

Philippe shook his head. "Je ne veux pas aller avec lui; il a fait mon cri de Maman."

"Il n'a pas signifié à."

"Que s'il me blesse-t-il?"

"Bien sûr il ne vous blessera pas, il est votre père," Ginny said softly, trying to pacify the little boy.

"Je ne vous blesserai pas!" Bill denied, looking down at his son with sad, pleading eyes; Philippe didn't even look at him.

"Aller sur, Philippe, aller avec votre père," Ginny cajoled, ruffling the little boy's hair.

"Fais-je vraiment doit? Pourquoi vous ne pouvez pas me prendre?" Philippe asked dejectedly.

"Parce que je ne peux pas maintenant."

"Je veux rester avec Luke et Nicky," he pouted, looking up at Ginny with big, blue eyes.

"Vous pouvez jouer avec eux encore plus tard. Vous pouvez dormir même dans la pièce pareille encore. Comment aimeriez-vous cela?" If bribing the little boy was going to get him to go with his father, then Ginny wasn't above doing that.

Philippe sighed a little. "Bien, bien alors. Il me prendra à la Maman?"

"Oui, il fera. Et nous vous verrons plus tard, bien? Il y a un bon garçon."

Philippe nodded dejectedly. "Accord. Au revoir."

Ginny watched as father and son walked out of the room, Bill hesitantly laying a hand on his son's shoulder. It was really too bad that they had gotten off to such a bad start; Philippe was a truly wonderful boy, and there was no doubt that Bill would be proud to call him son. She was certain Bill was already regretting his behavior that paved the way for the coldness his son was currently treating him.

"Doesn't he speak any English at all?" Draco asked as soon as the door closed behind the departing pair.

Ginny shook her head. "No. We only knew about him yesterday, and all this time, he's been with his mother. As she's French, it stands to reason that her son would be speaking the language."

Draco looked at her oddly. "And since when have you spoken French like a native?"

Ginny gave him a dirty look. "You'd be surprised at what I am now capable of doing, Draco. Four years is a long time, and I'm not known for being idle."

He visibly stiffened. There were too many implications behind her words and he was cautious of jumping to conclusions once again; he'd already put his foot in his mouth one time too many, and he didn't particularly like that exercise. Instead, he merely shook his head and figured to stay on a relatively safer topic. "So. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour, huh? How did that happen? I know the Delacours, and they would never approve of a Weasley."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "How did you think you and I happened? Grow up, Draco, not everything is measured by social standing anymore, you know." She placed a hand on Nicole's shoulder and steered her, together with her brother, over to the sofa.

Draco grew quiet as he watched them settle down, but only for a few seconds. "There's a big difference between you and I from your brother and Fleur. I know Germaine very well; I know he would never bend his beliefs just because his daughter forced the issue. You, on the other hand," he emphasized, his eyes narrowing, "are a different story. My father has been pushing me towards you ever since you graduated from Hogwarts. I don't know why he's so fixated with you, and until now he has never seen fit to enlighten me about it. But he wants you for me." He crossed his arms smugly. "So, as you can see, there can be no parallel between our relationship and those two. At all."

"Whatever," Ginny said dismissively, ignoring Draco's comment about his father. She knew why Lucius was so adamant about the two of them getting together, but Draco didn't need that kind of ammunition in his roster; he had too much of those against her already.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?" She smoothed away an unruly lock of hair that fell over Luke's eyes.

With one wary eye locked on his father, Luke whispered, rather loudly, "Are we gonna keep him?" Him, of course, being his father.

Draco waited, with baited breath, for Ginny's answer. It was killing him, the way she seemed to be taking quite a long time to answer the boy's question.

Ginny gave Draco a furtive glance before clearing her throat self-consciously. "Well, honey, I'm not really sure yet." She spared a glance at her daughter, and was hard-put not to grimace at the way the little girl was cheekily smirking at her father. "What do you think we should do?"

Luke gave the impression of thinking about his answer seriously, his lips pursed in concentration. "If we keep him, what about Uncle Harry and Uncle Blaise? I don't want them to go away."

Draco tamped down his irritation at hearing his worst enemy and his ex-best friend coming off as being more important to his son than he was. He really shouldn't be surprised; from the way Luke had earlier greeted Blaise, it was obvious that the little boy was very close to the Italian. And he would not put it past Potter to act all father-like towards any child Ginny might have, either; it wasn't so long ago that she was head over heels in love with the four-eyed freak, the same freak her mother wouldn't mind claiming as her own son.

"Of course Uncle Blaise and Uncle Harry won't go away," Ginny said soothingly to the clearly worried boy. "I would never allow that to happen."

"He wasn't very nice to Grandpa and Uncle Blaise," Nicole stated bluntly, her eyes straying to her mother. "Why is that?"

Ginny suppressed the urge to groan; the why questions were already beginning. With a defeated air, she looked at Draco and gestured over to the nearest chair. "You'd better sit down; this is going to take a while."

Draco took the proffered chair and settled in. He wasn't sure why Ginny had such a resigned look about her, but he was glad that at least he wasn't being left out of the loop this time, and more importantly, he wasn't getting the boot either. He didn't care how long it would take, he didn't mind how painful it could be, he was going to try and see this to the very end. Even if it killed him, there was no force on earth that was going to keep him away from his family. Not this time. And should anyone try, whoever she/he was, they were going to find out firsthand just how ruthless he could be. Potter might be the Wizarding World's golden boy, but the unfortunate Death Eater's who had crossed his path in battle knew whom it was they should fear more.

Which should have been quite ironic, had he thought about it. He was not afraid of blood thirsty criminals, but he was scared out of his mind by a pair of two four-year-olds and what they could do to him.

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

The ball was still in full swing, but Bill had had no choice but to call it a night. His parents had understood the need for him to go, and had bid their new grandson goodbye.

It was really quite unnerving, the way his son made him feel so awkward. When he made to pull him closer to him as they flooed back to the Burrow, Philippe had looked so reluctant to be that close to him that it just tore him apart. He adored children, he'd grown up with six of them after all; heck, Fred and George had a tendency to act like a pair of two-year-olds on occasion still. Then this? He really had no idea where to start mending the rift between him and his son.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Philippe immediately started calling out for his mother, running up the stairs, the toy robot Luke had given him dangling from his left hand. He followed more sedately behind his son, dreading the inevitable confrontation with Fleur.

On the second floor landing he saw Philippe dash into his mother's arms, talking a mile a minute. He talked about what he did with Luke and Nicole, the sitting room he had stayed in when the twins had to step out for a few minutes, how Lucius and Narcissa treated him really nicely, and about the large man who had appeared all of a sudden and almost had a fight with the man who was supposed to be his father.

Fleur listened as her son rattled off, painfully aware of Bill looking on not too far away. It was getting extremely difficult keeping a smile on her face while her ex-lover was in such close proximity.

Finally, unable to stand it anymore, she pressed a gentle finger on Philippe's lips, shutting him up. The elf, Tippy, was already waiting to take charge of Philippe, and she could no longer avoid that talk with Bill.

"Le miel, je veux que vous soyez allé avec Tippy, l'accord? J'ai besoin de parler avec la Bill." Fleur kissed her son's forehead and gave him an encouraging smile.

It didn't work. "Que? Non! Que s'il vous blesse-t-il encore?" Philippe said worriedly, gripping his mother's arms fearfully.

"J'irai très bien. Je serai par plus tard vous plisser dans, approuvez?" She gave him another kiss on the head before nodding to the elf, who immediately started fussing over the boy.

Left without a choice (the little elf was surprisingly strong), Philippe nodded and called to her mother that he would wait up for her. Fleur watched as her son disappeared through a door, the doubts assailing her once again. She could feel the waves of emotions emanating from Bill, and it scared her to the very depths of her soul.

"Let's get this over with," she heard behind her, and closed her eyes against the coldness of Bill's voice. She nodded, without turning around. "Where do you want to talk?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the man who had meant the world to her before he gave her her son.

Bill clenched his jaw. "The only way to keep this private is if we talked in my room," he said grimly, looking at the frail woman standing before him dispassionately. He couldn't afford to let her know how much she was affecting him; he wanted to still have some respect for himself in the morning, and he wouldn't have that if he allowed her to run roughshod over him.

He watched her nod briefly and walked past him and entered his room, the room they had inadvertently shared last night. The memory of it made his anger simmer some more; the alcohol he had consumed the other night was enough to muddle his mind, and he had no clear recollection of what exactly took place in his bed. If his mother was right, and they'd done more than sleep, he didn't know where to place the blame on. He sure wasn't taking all of it for himself; he was drunk after all! What he wanted to know was what Fleur's excuse was for waking up naked beside him.

When he finally entered his room, he saw that she had taken the seat near the door. Ignoring the implications of such an obvious choice, he shut the door then seated himself by the side of his bed, his hands clasped in between his legs. He was leaning slightly forward, and to the neutral observer, he might look as though he was greatly interested in whatever it was that the witch seated before him was going to say. But the deceptively innocent posture was deliberate; he wanted to keep himself from touching her, because if he did, he couldn't give assurance that it wouldn't be because either he was shaking her, or strangling her.

He had thought about their situation a lot. After his talk with Ginny, he had grudgingly admitted to himself that he was partly to blame for what went wrong in their relationship. But he had also decided that no matter the sins they had committed against each other, it still doesn't excuse the fact that Fleur had knowingly kept the knowledge of his son from him. And if she'd had her way, if the accidental meeting with his sister hadn't taken place, he might never have known he'd fathered a child at all. That was what hurt him the most; how could he be so wrong about the only woman he had ever loved? Had he been blinded by what he felt for Fleur that he had overlooked this selfish part of her? He would have never credited her with such cruelty before, but now, he couldn't trust himself around her anymore.

Fleur tried to look as dignified as she could. It was hard, especially knowing that she was wearing clothes that were not her own. She felt like a pauper, an interloper, in a place where she had never thought she would be made to feel that way. She was a proud woman, a scion from one of the oldest and most prominent families in the Wizarding World. Yet now she felt worse than nothing, and the reason was sitting in front of her, looking at her with such loathing that she just wanted to close her eyes and never open them again.

"Well?" Bill finally broke the tense silence. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

It was hard, so hard, to keep her feelings bottled up inside. But she had to do it. She could not allow Bill to see how little of her previous self was left inside her.

"What do you want me to say?" she answered calmly, meeting Bill's eyes without flinching.

"Why don't you start with Pierre Devereaux?" he bit out, the tension in his body doubling up.

Fleur shrugged. "What about Pierre? He's my friend. He was there when I needed him."

"He was more than just your friend!" Bill snapped, his eyes blazing.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, sincerely bewildered by his hatred for her best friend.

Bill rose abruptly and pointed an accusing finger at her. "I saw you! I saw you with him that night! You can't deny what I saw with my own eyes!"

Fleur also stood up, angered at his insinuations. "What? What did you see?" she demanded, her face daring him to say out loud what it was that he was accusing her of.

"You had your arms around each other!" he spat distastefully. "Obviously you had already finished up your business in our bedroom, you decided the living room would do just as well! I saw him kiss you, and you were enjoying it!"

"What!" Fleur choked out. "Are you out of your mind? When did this supposedly happen?"

"Don't play coy with me, Fleur." Bill crossed his arms across his chest. "You can't deny that I saw what I saw."

"When. Did. You. See. Us. Like. That?" Fleur bit out forcefully.

"The day I moved out. Why do you think I left? It was one thing having to deal with your father and his disapproval of our relationship, it was quite another to have you flaunting your lover before my eyes."

Fleur stared at Bill in shock. But not for long. "The day you moved out? The only time I recall Pierre and I together that day was when I asked him to take me to St. Mungos. I had just found out I was pregnant and was out of my mind with worry about how you'd react." She was trying very hard to recall that day, but what was crystal clear to her was what happened later on that very same day. "I was very upset, and I asked him to come with me for a check-up." Then something clicked in her mind; she looked straight at Bill and tried to gauge whether what she was about to say was what could have made Bill leave. "Pierre hugged me to try and assure me that everything would work out just fine. He'd said that whatever our problems were, you were sure to be happy about the baby. Is that what you saw?" When Bill didn't answer, she knew for a fact that she had hit the crux of their problem.

"You accused me of betraying you just because I was being comforted by a friend?" Fleur asked incredulously, her anger starting to build up. She laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. "How dare you?" she hissed furiously. "How dare you accuse me of having an affair when it was you who was screwing around! Yes, I knew about Heather!" She let all the roiling emotions within her surface, all the anger, the resentment, the frustrations of six years duration. "I knew all about the late night assignments you were supposedly sent on, all the extra hours you spent on the field. Did you really think you could hide it all from me?" She started pacing, breathing evenly to try and keep up with her fury.

"Why Bill?" She stopped in front of the quiet man and closed the distance between them. "Did it make you feel good, blaming your sins on me? Did you like thinking you had reason to cheat in the first place, because I was doing it too?" Her accent was getting heavier and heavier, a situation that always happened whenever she was upset, but she ignored it. "I was preparing myself, you know. I thought it would be prudent to try and brace myself for the day when you eventually came to me and tell me it was over between the two of us, but it never occurred to me that it would happen because of something that I supposedly did!"

Bill could not say anything to defend himself. She was talking about matters that he was guilty of, and he had no excuse for his behavior then. But he was not prepared to believe that he had really been wrong all this time, that he had wasted years he could have better spent watching his son grow up. And from the gist of what she was talking about, it seemed that she believed he was merely projecting his sins on her to try and ease the guilt of what he had done himself.

"I've always wondered why you left, you know," Fleur said in a hollow voice. "I used to stay up late at night, trying to understand what it was that angered you enough to leave like that, until I finally decided it wouldn't do me any good to waste away my life on a man who obviously was just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. I told myself it was probably better I never got a chance to tell you about the baby, at least you had a clean break from us. I convinced myself that had you been aware of my condition, you'd probably stay with me and be miserable." She heaved a long breath and swiped furiously at the tears in her eyes. "Not once did it occur to me that you left because you thought I was fucking another man."

Bill flinched; he didn't much like hearing Fleur talk like that. He didn't like the way it made him feel, but most importantly, he didn't like how much she made sense, and he didn't. Because if she wasn't lying, he wouldn't blame her for hating him now. Because if she wasn't lying, she had every right to turn her back on him and take his son with her.

"Then swear to me now," Bill said quietly, keeping his desperation from creeping in his voice, "swear to me that you never betrayed me. I need to hear you say it."

"You know what, Bill," Fleur said tiredly, "think what you want. I don't care anymore." She started backing away from him, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

She was already turning away from him! "Don't run away from this! How can we resolve our problem if we don't face it together?"

Fleur's smile was self-deprecating. "I never had a problem, Bill," she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "You, on the other hand? I think it's high time you think about what your problem with me really is." Then she walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Bill would have felt better had she slammed the door; the calm way she acted, as though she could care less enough to lose her temper, screamed a bleakness for their future together that made him want to pound something. He sat back down on his bed, despair weighing his shoulders down, as he caught his head in his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs. He'd made such a mess of everything. He had taken the best thing that ever happened to him and thrown it all away, and all for what? His pride?

He lay on his back on the bed, his legs hanging over the sides. There was nothing he could do about the past anymore, he'd royally screwed that up already. But he was damned if he would let Fleur walk out of his life now that he had her back in it. She was going to give him another chance whether she liked it or not, and he knew just the right person to help him.

"Hate me all you want, but I won't let you leave me, Fleur. I won't let you leave me" His quiet promise to the room rang with determination and verve; his only reply was the silent whistling of the winds outside, and the distinct banging sound made by the ghoul in the attic.

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

"Cissa."

"Don't talk to me, Lucius."

"Come on, Cissa, you know I would never hurt you."

"Ha!"

"You are being childish, my dear."

"Childish, am I!" Expensive black silk dressing robe went sailing out of the connecting doorway.

"What's this?"

"Guess!" The slamming of the door was more than enough explanation.

"Open the door, Narcissa."

"No."

"You know you can't keep me out by simply locking the door."

"I have your wand, so guess again, my dear!"

"You can't throw me out of my own room!"

Silence. Lucius knew his wife had only just realized that she was in his room, and vice versa. Except for the times he'd been called away, he and his wife hadn't actually slept apart since that night he admitted his feelings for her; the rooms were for appearances' sake. More than half of high-born society couples slept apart, and should it be known that the Malfoy couple actually enjoyed each other in the privacy of their bedroom, there was no telling what society would make of their unusual set up.

"You can sleep in my room then," Narcissa finally decided, although there was a lot less heat in her tone of voice.

"Can't we act like adults about this, my dear?"

"I am angry, Lucius, and I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning to find that I had murdered you in your sleep."

Lucius sighed and turned his back on the connecting door. "Fine," he said to the room at large. "I'll see you in the morning then." He didn't know if he could fall asleep without Narcissa by his side, but he didn't have a choice in the matter now.

Several minutes later, as he was tossing and turning on the bed, unable to find just the right comfortable spot to sleep on, he heard his wife faintly through the door separating them.

"Goodnight, Lucius."

And Lucius fell right to sleep like a baby.

He didn't know what woke him, nor what time it was, but something refused to let him get back to sleep. He got out of bed, donned his bed robe and quit his room. The manor was dangerously still, and a stranger would have thought twice about wandering the halls; for that matter, no one with a modicum of sense would ever think of setting foot in Malfoy Manor day or night.

Lucius' instinct took him to the library. It was a vast room, one of the largest in the manor, and contrary to Draco's belief, the dungeons were not his favorite part of his ancestral home, the library was. There was just something about the musty smell of centuries old books and the fresher, cleaner scent of newer tomes that called out to him.

Like the rest of the manor, the library was silent as though asleep. It took him a moment to notice that there was a light coming from the furthest end of the room.

Draco lay sprawled on the large leather chair behind his father's oakwood desk, now his desk. A bottle of brandy sat in front of him, and ice clinked against the full glass of liquor that he was currently swirling around indolently in his hands. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a devil-may-care young man blessed with too much good looks, too much money, and too much charm than was good for him. As he concentrated on the amber liquid in his hand, it seemed as though he hadn't a care in the world, and maybe that was fundamentally the kind of man he was. Which was why he was now so ill equipped in dealing with the crisis he had suddenly found himself thrust into.

Draco brought the glass to his lips and took a long sip. He had been drinking the potent liquid since he got back from the Ministry gala some two hours ago, and no matter how much he tried to make sense of everything, he couldn't quite point a finger as to when it was his life had started going down the hill. He couldn't get the picture of Ginny and his children out of his mind, and it was slowly making him lose his mind. He didn't know whether he should feel anger towards her for keeping such a momentous event from him, or anger towards his father for deliberately concealing his fatherhood from him.

He took another sip of his drink, welcoming the burning sensation as the brandy seared his throat. His talk with Ginny and the twins after his parents had gone didn't go too well; there were certain concessions Ginny had given him with regard to their children, but that hadn't been what he'd wanted. He didn't want visitation rights, damn it! He wanted to stay close to them. He was afraid that any length of time spent away from her and the twins, no matter how short, would be enough for extraneous forces to influence her decision, and he would not be able to bear it if she suddenly up and changed her mind about allowing him to spend time with his children. He had no illusion whatsoever about what her family might feel towards him, seeing as from their point of view it might look as though he'd flown the coop when the hen started laying. Why he never thought of this very situation happening when he'd slept with Ginny all those years ago he would never understand. He had acted irresponsibly, and though he could never wish that Luke and Nicole didn't happen, the fact of the matter was, they did. And now he would have to settle for what little scrap of time Ginny thought of throwing his way.

"Fuck it!" he yelled, hurling his glass across the room, the contents spilling over his table and on the carpeted floor. The glass hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling harmlessly under an inlaid marquetry side table. He didn't mind the mess he'd made, he was too deep in his misery to care.

What was he to do? He had never had to face this kind of problem before, and he didn't know where to begin to start fixing it. He had a lot to lose, and losing was just not an option, not this time; he wasn't merely facing a simple game of quidditch that he could make up for during the next match should he fuck it up the first time out; this was his life that was on the line.

His eyes burned, and he stubbornly refused to let the tears that were threatening to fall. Malfoys never cry; they don't let others see they were in pain, they don't beg, they don't show excessive emotion, they don't lose. He had already violated those rules at one point or another in the past, but tonight he'd taken it a step further; tonight he'd managed to break all but one of those rules in one fell swoop. He would not compound it by crying.

Grabbing his head and raking his fingers through his hair, the one thought that kept passing through his mind was 'I have to fix this.' He didn't even know when he'd started voicing the thought out loud, he just heard himself saying, over and over again: "I have to fix this, I have to fix this."

"Didn't you use all your newly acquired money to get what you want, Draco?"

He slowly raised his head; he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone in the library, and that the last person he wanted to see was suddenly there, looking at him calmly.

"You. This is all your fault," he whispered harshly, his eyes twin pairs of icy hatred all directed at the man who had made his life hell from the day he was born.

Lucius shook his head. "Surely you're mistaken, Draco. I gave you every opportunity to correct your mistake, asked you repeatedly to reconsider your relationships, but did you ever listen to me?" Ignoring the palpable danger he was in, he strolled further into the room until he was only a few feet from where his son was now sitting up straight. "Short of telling you the reason why, which I was not at liberty to divulge, I did all that is humanly possible to bring you and Ginny together. Don't blame me if you've suddenly found yourself paddling upstream with a leaking boat and no oars in hand."

"You bastard!" Draco roared, standing up and gripping the edge of the desk. "You did this deliberately! You've fucking ruined my life!"

Lucius shook his head sadly. "No, Draco, that is one sin you can't pin on me."

Draco itched to draw out his wand and hex the living daylights out of this sorry excuse for a father he had. "Why didn't you just tell me! I came to you! I asked you about Ginny, and you told me there was nothing for me to worry about! Why didn't you just tell me?!"

Lucius' eyes turned glacial. "Because no matter how hard you try to deny it, you are me, Draco. We are cut from the same cloth. I could not let you do to Ginevra what I did to your mother and if I am being a selfish bastard by taking that choice away from you, then so be it."

"Leave Mother out of this. This has nothing to do with what you did to her and everything to do with you and me. " Draco's growl was full of menace.

"Why? You've never forgiven me for the way I treated you and your mother all those years ago. Don't you think I know what goes on inside that head of yours? Yes, I know all that you've been doing; I know you've been biding your time before you try and get back at me for all my transgressions. I must have really thrown you for a loop when I just handed Malfoy Holdings and all its subsidiaries without batting an eye; after all, haven't you been trying to take over the company a little at a time?" He smirked. "You seem surprised? Don't you know nothing ever gets past me without my noticing it? You might think you know everything, Draco, but you can never get the better of me."

Draco barely managed to keep his surprise from showing. "Why did you never say anything then?"

Lucius shrugged. "You were taking something that was bound to be yours someday anyway. Why bother? It might behoove you to know, though, that money is not always the answer to everything. You might have all the galleons in the world, but sometimes you can never get enough of it to get what you want." He strode over to a case and picked out a leather bound book. He started flipping through the pages; not turning to look at his son, he spoke as though merely talking to himself. "No man is ever rich enough to buy back his past."

Shutting the book, he began walking out of the library, leaving a fuming Draco still bracing himself on the desk. Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned. "Incidentally," he said, as though a thought had just occurred to him. "I know it hasn't been two days yet, but I wanted to ask you: How does it feel to have everything in the world money can buy?"

Father and son stared at each for several minutes; when it became obvious that Draco had no answer for him, Lucius left him to continue with his pity party.

Draco was literally shaking in fury; he was so stiff he didn't know if his muscles would ever relax again. He tried taking deep breaths to try and control his anger; when that didn't work, he tried imagery to pacify his bloodlust. When that failed as well, he did the only thing available to him.

The brandy bottle shattered as it unerringly hit a space between the bookshelves. Draco started panting, as he watched the amber liquid drip down to the floor, broken shards of glass everywhere. But it still wasn't enough to appease his anger.

Temper, temper, Draco.

It was the absolute worst time for the pest to start talking. "Leave me the fuck alone!" Draco howled, banging his fist down on the table savagely.

Letting your anger rule your head never solves anything, Draco, Draco Jr. said philosophically. It can lead to a lot of things, as you've probably already found out, but it never gives you the answers to your problems.

Draco closed his eyes and slumped back down on his seat. "Why me?" he asked despairingly. "Is it too much to ask of everyone to just leave me alone?"

Since you asked so nicely, being left alone is also not an answer to your problem. It's past time you buck up and deal with the consequences of your actions, Draco. If you do the crime, then you'd better be prepared to pay the fine. I'm sure if you'll just show Ginny how much you regret being such a bastard on three separate occasions, she might just forgive you. Of course, if you'd only listened to me in the first place, you might not be facing all this crap now.

"Stop telling me things I already know," he gritted out, giving the table's leg nearest him a good kick.

You're only hurting yourself, you know. Throwing a hissy fit because of what you found out tonight should be the last thing on your mind. Instead, you should be thinking of ways of getting Ginny back.

"How can I think when you're constantly interrupting my thoughts?"

Well, excuse me. A body tries to be helpful and what does he get? Really, Draco, you have serious issues that need solving.

Draco massaged his head. When will this nightmare end?

Come on, focus here, Draco, Draco Jr. went on. We should strategize; think about Ginny's weakness so you'd know where to strike first.

"I can't believe I'm going to be scheming with myself, I really am losing it."

No, you're not. Now, get with the program, mate. The sooner I get you two together, the sooner I can look forward to a nice long vacation, away from all the drama of your life. I have at least 20 years assured vacation time due me, before I make another appearance, and I am almost packed and ready to go.

"Merlin help me," Draco said to himself. He sat up straight and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. "Before I let you drag me into this, explain something to me first."

Shoot.

"Why are you helping me? Now I'm not questioning your altruism, but I got the distinct impression from before that you've decided to leave me to my own devices. Why the change of heart?"

Well, Draco Jr. hesitated. You know how it is sometimes when you get frustrated, especially when your charge just refuses to listen to sound advice. I just wanted to scare you a little, you know, to make you toe the line. Not that it did you any good, mind you; you're still as muleheaded as before. But like I said, I want that vacation, and I can't get to it unless I help you fix your mess. If I have to resort to handing you over to Ginny gift wrapped and programmed to her specifications, I won't hesitate to do it. And don't tell me I can't manage it either; you don't know how good I am at mind-altering shenanigans. I'd give you my references, but then again I'm not supposed to do that, something to do with confidentiality clauses and some such nonsense.

Draco's spine straightened even more as a glimmer of hope grew inside of him. "Then you'll do whatever it takes to help me?"

What have I been saying for the past 5 minutes? How can you not be listening? I reside in your head, I pass for your thoughts; there's no way on earth what I've been saying just flew over you!

"There's no need for sarcasm," Draco grumbled. "I merely wanted to ensure we haven't got our signals crossed."

My signals are never crossed, it's you that's always mucking it all up. Now, enough talk. Tell me what it is you think Ginny's weakness might be.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, I wish I knew. If I did I'd probably not be needing your help at all."

Ah, if wishes were horses, Draco. But since it's not, think man. Think back to all your encounters. How come you've managed to convince her to sleep with you? Twice! What is it that you have that she couldn't seem to say no to?

"I thought it was just me, but when I tried to seduce her earlier, you saw what happened."

Stop whining, man! Malfoys don't whine.

"I wasn't whining; I was merely pointing out that seduction seems to have run its course. She's no longer susceptible."

Draco Jr. chuckled. I know more than you do, remember? Your seduction techniques were working, all right, she's just decided that you manipulating her with your body is not going to cut it this time. She's pretty protective of those brats of hers, and she'd cut your balls off if you broke their heart just like you broke hers.

"Hey! Those are my children you're calling brats!"

Oh please! They're brats and you know it. They're just like you, especially that Nicole. Ohhh, she's going to be a handful, that one! I'm so proud of that little imp, I'd burst a seam right now if I were wearing clothes. She's going to do the Malfoy name proud, I tell you.

"Stop calling my children brats!" Draco demanded, ignoring the rest of what he heard; really, he didn't need to have visuals of a naked voice in his head.

Fine. They're not brats. Just behaviorally challenged. Okay, back to basics. First order of business: Seduction. Not your type of seduction either, it won't work anymore as you've just found out. Let's try to be a little more subtle this time around. A little nudge here and there can go a long way, believe you me. Second would be the little tykes. Now no need to tell me that they're not exactly over the moon for you; I was there and was witness to every painful minute of it all. Third would be Lucius. Now don't kill the messenger, but I have to tell you, mate, those spawn of yours love your old man. If you want them to warm up to you, pretend to at least be civil around Lucius? I think it would go a long way to smoothing your path with them.

"What if I don't want to? Be civil to Lucius, I mean?"

Well you'd better, or you can kiss the twins goodbye. It's time you try and mend this rift you have with your father, Draco. It's been going on for far too long already; it's not healthy for a person to harbor so much hate inside him.

"He doesn't exactly make it easier for me to like him, you know," he pointed out.

What do you expect? He's a Malfoy! Malfoys live to be difficult. Just remember that he's not out to make your life miserable, and go from there. How difficult could that be?

"Easier words have never been spoken; it's the doing that's the problem. A few minutes in his company and I practically itch in my desire to hex him or something."

Just ignore him then, pretend that he's an apple tree or something. That should get you through a day. You have to remember that you have more at stake now, and is it really worth it, antagonizing your father just for the hell of it?

Draco sighed. "I don't like where this conversation is going. Next you'll be telling me I should act more like the son I never was to him; I'm warning you now, I'm not in the mood to hear that kind of shit."

You're never in the mood to hear that kind of shit - that's the problem! That's why you and Ginny are like night and day; your family life leaves a lot to be desired while hers is disgustingly successful. She's the way she is because of her family, and you, well, you're you I guess.

"Thanks, I'm sure you meant that as a compliment," Draco drawled sarcastically, looking at the broken brandy bottle longingly; his eyes strayed to the liquor cabinet his father kept well stocked and debated whether to open another bottle of expensive French poison.

Don't even think about it. You already have enough problems without adding hangover in the list. And ditto on the sarcasm by the way; if you can somehow find a way of shelving that undesirable habit of yours for a few ticks, the faster we could finish this conversation. In case you hadn't noticed, it's well past your bedtime, sonny.

With a last longing look at the cabinet, he gave his full attention to Draco Jr. "Fine. Get on with it then."

Okay. We've already identified the three points where you need to work on to get you Ginny and the twins. Now I'm going to itemize the steps you need to take in order for this plan of ours to be fool proof. But before anything else, I have a burning question I need to ask.

"What?"

What do you intend to do about Dianne?

Draco cursed rather fluently and slapped his forehead. "Oh shit! I forgot about Dianne!"

Newsflash, Draco. You didn't just forget about Dianne, you didn't even remember you were supposed to be acting the doting fiancée tonight and left her at the Ministry! If I didn't know any better, Draco Jr. goaded, I'd say you didn't care. Do you?

He really was screwed up, and the sooner he get his life back on track, the healthier it would be for everybody around him. He sighed.

"All right. I'll take care of Dianne, you concentrate on Ginny. Merlin knows I couldn't be in any more shit than I already am."

So you'll talk to Dianne tomorrow?

"I'll talk to Dianne today. The sooner I tie up all the loose ends, the sooner I can start breathing normally again." He only hoped Dianne remained true to form; he didn't much like emotional females, and though he had yet to see a sign that his fiancée was a part of that statistic, the prospect of confronting her with such news as a broken betrothal the day after she'd been effectively deserted at the Ministry didn't bode well for him.

Think of it this way, mate; if she hexed your bits off, at least you already got yourself an heir.

Draco cursed again as Draco Jr. cackled maniacally. Yes, the sooner he and Ginny get back together, the sooner he could be free from the plague in his head.

--------------

Quotes:

No man is ever rich enough to buy back his past = no idea who said this, but I came across this quote and thought wow that's deep.

Translations:

Oui, tante Ginny ? = Yes, Aunt Ginny?
Je veux que ailles avec ton père, Philippe = I want you to go with your father, Philippe
Why? = Pourquoi?
Il va te raccompagner chez ta Maman = He'll take you back to your Mommy.
Je ne veux pas y aller avec lui ; il a fait pleurer ma maman = I don't want to go with him; he made my Mommy cry
Il ne le voulait pas vraiment. = He didn't mean to.
Et si jamais il me fait mal ? = What if he hurts me?
Mais non, il ne te fera aucun mal, c'est ton père. = Of course he won't hurt you, he's your father.
Je ne te ferai pas de mal. = I won't hurt you!
Allez Philippe, va avec ton père. = Go on, Philippe, go with your father.
Je dois vraiment y aller ? Pourquoi tu ne peux pas m'emmener toi ? = Do I really have to? Why can't you take me?
Parce que maintenant je ne peux pas. = Because I can't right now
Je veux rester avec Luke et Nicky. = I want to stay with Luke and Nicky.
Tu pourras jouer avec eux un peu plus tard. Vous pourrez même dormir dans la même chambre encore une fois. Ca te
plairait ça ? = You can play with them some more later. You can even sleep in the same room again. How would you like that?
Bon, alors c'est d'accord. Il va me ramener à Maman ? = Well, all right then. Will he take me to Mommy?
Oui, il va te ramener. Et on te retrouvera plus tard, d'accord ? C'est bien, bon petit. = Yes, he will. And we'll see you later, all right? There's a good boy.
D'accord, au revoir. = Okay. Bye.

Mon chéri, je veux que tu suives Tippy, d'accord ? Je dois parler avec Bill. = Honey, I want you to go with Tippy, okay? I need to talk with Bill.

Quoi ? Non ! Et si jamais il te faisais encore mal ? = What? No! What if he hurts you again?
Ca se passera bien. Je passerai tout à l'heure pour te border, d'accord? = I'll be all right. I'll be by later to tuck you in, okay?