Harry Potter and the Denique Tutanem

Darkness thicker than molasses devoured the foreboding Krakshi Forest of Romania. The wind whistled through the trees, chilling the normally humid summer night. A great horned owl swooped through the dense forest, its claws piercing the flesh of a scurrying field mouse as it carried the meal back to its nest. The only light that penetrated the darkness was that emitted from the wand of one of the three cloaked figures that silently made their way down the rough gravel road.

The smallest of the three figures stumbled over the root of an ancient pine that towered at least one hundred feet tall. He quickly scampered up and rushed forward to join his companions, whom had paused to wait for him, ignoring the blood that welled up on the heels of his hands. The one of the right gripped his arm tightly and held him close as they continued forward.

It was not long after, precisely twenty minutes, that the trio approached a clearing. Standing tall and proud, in the center of the Krakshi Forest, was an archaic mansion. It was made of dark grey stone and stretched up four stories. The house itself was two acres long, with countless windows trimmed in gold that ran in methodical lines. Along the sides of the house were four balconies, each with a one hundred foot circumference. Deep olive ivy ran up the mansion in a tamed fashion, and shadowy creatures roamed about the roof, some of which had stopped and stared at the visitors. Their eyes glittered like diamonds in the suffocating blackness, and one stretched its wings, a low growl emitting from its throat. Before he could acquire a proper look of the creature, the smallest figure was hurried forward by his two companions.

They approached the front entrance, which was two mahogany wooden doors with vertical bars in place of doorknobs. The tallest of the three raised a pale white fist and firmly pounded on the entrance. Glancing nervously back, the smallest was surprised to find that the gravel path had disappeared. Before he could speak on the matter, the doors swung open on their own accord to reveal a balding, transparent man. He glowed silver in the torchlight that surrounded him, and everything about his attire was immaculate, from the wrinkle-free black vest that rested over a white button up shirt, to the tailcoats that ran to the back of his knees. He was thin and stood at least six feet tall. He bowed his head at the trio and introduced himself.

"I am Jasper Stravinsky, servant of Krakshi Manor for over two centuries. My mistress is waiting for you in the study. You may follow me."

The smallest figure followed his partners and the noble ghost, but couldn't help but admire his surroundings. The foyer was beautifully decorated with tapestries woven in deep azure and trimmed with gold. Each seemed to tell its own tale; one of which depicted a green-scaled dragon with red horns being ridden by a pale man with dark hair who was dressed in a crimson wizarding robe. His wand jutted forward and his face was contorted in a cry of battle.

Passing the two staircases, which began on opposite sides and met on the founding of the second floor, the party continued down a dark hallway whose torches seemed to light magically as the ghost swept past them. Pictures of wizards and witches from every era lined the wall, each sitting or standing unnervingly still. At last, they reached a wooden door with a golden handle and the ghost waved his hand over the knob, which immediately turned and swung open.

Inside was a room with a much warmer atmosphere than would have been expected. The far right wall contained an immense fireplace whose flames flickered brightly, lighting the room. A mahogany desk lined the adjacent wall, the straight back chair behind it cushioned with red velvet. Various papers were strewn across the desk and an eagle-feathered quill sat in a glass inkwell that was obviously well used. The wall opposite the fireplace was lined with a fair number of books, most of them in English, though some written in Romanian, Latin, and other languages that were unrecognizable. In front of the fireplace there was a sizable crimson velvet couch and two matching chairs that sat on either side. Sitting on the couch, with perfect posture and swirling a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, was a woman.

Her hair, which was a red so dark it nearly appeared brown, veiled two green eyes and a pale face, giving her an ethereal appearance. She stood as soon as the troupe entered the room and her frame barely reached five feet six inches. Around her neck hung a silver dragon pendant with opals for eyes on a black velvet chain. The pendant rested on a deep blue robe that opened to reveal leather trousers and a leather corset, which was trimmed with silver lining.

The three-cloaked figures lowered their hoods and the woman stepped forward, setting her wine glass on the wooden table in front of the couch, and embraced the only other woman in the room. Her auburn hair clashed greatly with the platinum blonde locks of her old friend, but that seemed to strangely unite them, each the perfect antithesis of the other.

"Narcissa," the woman breathed, as if releasing a breath she'd been holding for quite sometime.

Narcissa Malfoy tightened her hold on the woman before her and squeezed her eyes shut, for one moment letting all the worry slip from her mind as she found herself comforted by her once dear friend that she had feared would harbor only feelings of resentment towards her.

"Celeste," she finally replied, releasing her friend and stepping back. "I was afraid you'd still be angry with me."

The corners of Celeste's mouth tipped up slightly, and she grabbed Narcissa's right hand, giving it a light squeeze before dropping it. "Seventeen years is an awful long time to hold a grudge."

A discreet cough from behind shook the two out of their reverie and both Celeste and Narcissa turned to face Severus Snape and Narcissa's son, Draco. Severus looked particularly pale in the firelight, his hooked nose casting strange shadows on his sallow face. He swept a curtain of greasy hair back with one hand and nodded respectfully at Celeste.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us."

Celeste raised her head, one eyebrow quirked. "I would never leave Narcissa and her son defenseless against such forces."

Celeste turned her attention to the last of the trio, whose aristocratic features were beautifully lined by the flickering light. His grey eyes were speckled with blue and his platinum hair, so much like his mother's, glistened beautifully. A soft smile touched her lips as Celeste gazed upon the young man who looked exactly like the male version of his mother.

"And you must be Draco. My name is Celestria Vanderbilt. But please, call me Celeste. Its wonderful to finally meet you."

Draco took the outstretched hand and noticed that, unlike his mother's small and delicate frame, Celeste was well-toned and not a stranger to a hard day's labor, as was obvious from her slightly rough hands and firm grip.

Draco bowed his head respectfully and kissed the top of her hand as his father had taught him. Even under dire circumstances, bad manners were never acceptable. Celeste stepped back and motioned for the trio to seat themselves along the velvet couch and chairs. With a flick of the wand she took from her pocket, Celeste conjured three more glasses of wine, which floated to the three other occupants. Snape merely swished his around impatiently, while Narcissa and Draco politely sipped theirs. Finally, Snape set his down alongside Celeste's and turned his head, eyeing the ghost as he spoke.

"Perhaps its would be best if we spoke in private."

Jasper jerked back in surprise and his eyes narrowed. "I have been a faithful servant of the Vanderbilt family for over two centuries- if you are questioning my loyalty, sir,"

"Of course he's not, Jasper," Celeste interrupted quickly, shooting Snape a glare. "Severus wouldn't dare offer me such an offense in my own home."

Draco watched the two suspiciously as they silently battled for power. Celeste stood tall and unwavering, daring Snape to challenge her words, while he in turn kept clenching his jaw in tight pulses.

"He may stay, if that's what you want," Snape finally conceded in a mumble.

Celeste nodded and picked up her wine glass, draining the rest of its contents. "Good. I know you can't stay long Severus. What is it that you require?"

It was Narcissa that stood, and Draco watched his mother carefully, increasingly aware that it was his fault that they had found themselves in this precarious position, running from the Dark Lord and seeking refuge from whomever would dare stand against him. If only he'd been brave enough to kill Dumbledore that night. However, he realized with much chagrin, the old fool had been right. Draco didn't have it in him to kill anyone, let alone a fellow wizard. True, he taunted the Mudbloods as often as possible and adamantly despised anything Muggle, but it wasn't enough. His weakness had forced him and his mother to flee to Romania, to seek salvation from the only person who could help them now that Dumbledore was dead.

"My family is no longer safe, Celeste. The Dark Lord planned vengeance for Lucius' mishap at the Ministry of Magic by assigning Draco to murder Dumbledore."

At this Narcissa paused and glanced timidly up at Celeste. However, Celeste's face was devoid of all emotion, apathetically listening to Narcissa's tale. Swallowing hard, the elder Malfoy nodded and continued.

"But Draco found he couldn't complete the task. He wasn't made for such a life, something I should have foreseen long ago. Now that the Dark Lord is aware of this, Draco's life is at stake." Narcissa choked back a sob and tried to calm her trembling hands. "Lucius is in Azkaban and I know he wouldn't approve, but we've no where else to go. I... I can't leave my only son to be killed at the Dark Lord's hands."

Tears glistened in Narcissa's eyes and she shakily sank back down onto the couch, her hands fearfully clutching Draco's. After a moment's hesitation, Celeste swept over to Narcissa and knelt in front of her and Draco, placing a gentle hand over their clasped ones.

"You know you can stay as long as you need. You'll be safe here, and I've already sent some of my people to look after Lucius for as long as his sentence is in Azkaban. When he's free, they'll bring him here. I swear, for as long as I live, no harm will come to any of you. But if you choose to stay, there are certain rules that must be upheld. You know the laws of my people."

Narcissa nodded and her light blue eyes locked onto Celeste's. She knew that seeking Celeste's protection came with a price, but it was one she was willing to pay if it meant the safety of her family was ensured. Celeste smiled and offered Draco a wink before standing.

"Besides, I invited you here, I know why you came. My question was directed towards Severus." At this, Celeste turned to face the man in question, her hands lazily placed on her hips and her expression skeptical.

"Me?" Snape asked, sitting straighter in the velvet chair. "There is nothing I require."

"Then perhaps I should see you out."

Snape stood abruptly and Draco watched the two, confused by the obvious anger that sparked in Celeste's eyes. Snape's lips pressed together in a thin line as he brushed past Celeste and made his way over to Narcissa and Draco, who both stood as well. Narcissa grasped Snape's right hand briefly and the right corner of his mouth twitched up just a bit as he placed his left hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Be safe," he said, his voice tight with apprehension.

With a curt nod to the two of them, Severus Snape followed Celeste out of the study, leaving Narcissa and Draco alone with Jasper.

"Milady has requested that I show you to your room, Madam Malfoy. If you would follow me?"

Jasper gestured with his arm toward the door and Narcissa offered Draco a fleeting smile before trailing after the old ghost, heading deeper into the heart of the ancient structure.

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

They had reached the great mahogany doors and Snape whirled around, abruptly facing Celeste. She cocked an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms across her leather-clad chest.

"Yes?"

"I hope you know the danger you're putting yourself in."

Celeste's emerald eyes narrowed and she raised her head a fraction of an inch, though this barely helped. Severus Snape was a good three inches taller than her, even in heels. Nothing she could do, aside from drinking a bottle of Skele-Gro, would ever stop her from having to look up to him.

"I'm well aware of the dangers, Severus. You aren't the only spy within Voldemort's ranks."

Snape shivered involuntarily as his dark eyes blazed. "Don't say his name," he hissed.

"Speaking of old Voldy," Celeste replied with a smirk, "how'd you think he'd feel if he knew his most trusted Death Eater was helping the traitors sneak away in the middle of the night?"

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously and he stepped closer to Celeste, her small chest nearly touching his own. His nostrils flared and he clenched his fists, but, at best, Celeste looked slightly amused.

"He'll never find out so long as you keep your big mouth shut."

"Oh, that one hurt, Snivellus."

"Don't call me that," Snape gritted out.

The two stared at each other unblinkingly for at least two minutes before Celeste rolled her eyes and shoved past Snape. Her cream colored hand closed around the right iron bar, but she paused. Her head turned as she glanced back at Snape.

"You're never to return here, under any circumstances. Tomorrow morning you won't even remember the path back, but should you be able to overcome those particular enchantments, should you remember, I offer you one warning. Venture into this forest without my protection, on your own or with a thousand Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, and you'll die. There will be no escape from the monsters that lie within. No owls either, no communication of any sort. To you and the rest of the world, Narcissa and Draco are dead. Do you understand Snape?"

Snape nodded curtly. Celeste turned back around and opened the entrance doors. Stepping outside, she used her wand to send a shower of golden sparks shooting through the sky. Although it had been quiet before, the Krakshi Forest was suddenly deathly silent. Celeste turned back to Snape and jerked her head towards the forest.

"You've got one hour. I would say it's been nice seeing you, but we both know how I hate to lie."

Without a word, Snape walked past Celeste and headed towards the gravel road that had suddenly appeared and would lead him back to civilization. Celeste bit her bottom lip, her brow furrowed. Before Snape could disappear into the depths of the woods, she took a step forward, her right arm slightly extended.

"Snape!" He turned around, agitated and annoyed. "I... thank you, for helping them."

Severus Snape locked his dark eyes with Celeste's lighter ones and, for a moment, the two perfectly understood each other. There was no smoldering anger, no barely repressed hatred, just two people with a mutual affection. But Severus tore his eyes away and the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and he disappeared into the night.

Celeste watched as the gravel road dissolved into the ground and the trees swallowed up the hole in the clearing. A loud howling above her caused her to smile and Celeste turned, her eyes catching sight of the winged creatures that guarded her home. The moonlight reflected off their scales, casting plum and jade shadows against the stone mansion. Winking up at them, Celeste made her way back into the building and down the hall, towards the study where she knew Draco was waiting.

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

"Bewitching Hour," Draco read off the spine of the aged book.

The black leather bindings were extremely worn, though the gold title stood out quite clearly. A brief glance showed the parchment pages to be ragged as well, as they were now musty and yellow. Draco's agile fingers moved to open the front cover, but were halted by the voice behind him.

"Bewitching Hour. An interesting read, to be sure. Though that's merely a translation done centuries ago by one of my ancestors."

Draco jerked around quickly, shocked that Celeste had been able to enter the room without his knowledge. His stormy eyes watched her with curiosity as she strolled over to the bookshelf and grabbed another book. Draco recognized the language as Latin. He'd never really been interested in studying Latin before, though his parents had insisted he be fluent in at least two other languages aside from English. Naturally he'd chosen French, which was part of his father's heritage, and later, Italian. Celeste handed him the second book, which was even more dilapidated than the first, with its bindings in shambles and the parchment remarkably fragile.

"Be careful with that," Celeste said. "It's the original Bewitching Hour written by Morgaine Bidot."

Draco's mouth dropped, his hands subconsciously gripping the book a bit tighter. "Morgaine Bidot?"

Celeste nodded and her lips curved into a small smile. "Yes. Actually, she wrote it two years prior to her death, if I'm not mistaken."

Draco's eyes widened as he glanced down at the relic in his grasp. Not only was the book probably worth at least a million Galleons, but it was nearly eight hundred years old as well. Draco ignored the twitch in his fingers that urged him to open the book and looked back up at Celeste.

"What's it say?"

"That book lists every curse Morgaine ever invented, describes how to cast them, what they do, and the only known cures."

"Every curse she invented? But, that's impossible."

"And why do you say that," Celeste replied with a knowing smirk.

"Because Morgaine Bidot is the inventor of all three Unforgivable Curses. And I know there's ways to throw off the Imperious, but the Cruciatus and the Avada Kedavra..."

"So says your Ministry. But the real truth is that every curse, every hex, has a cure. Or at the very least there are measures of prevention one can take."

"What are they?"

Celeste smiled sadly. "You're going to be bored enough inside these walls without me spoiling the few surprises I can offer."

Celeste held her hand out and Draco reluctantly placed the two books in her waiting palms. She carefully put them back on the shelves and whispered a few inaudible words under her breath. Almost immediately, a force field of some sort sprang up, swallowing the bookshelf in a light blue mist. Celeste turned around.

"Sorry," she said. "I usually don't let anyone read these books. They're so old that even brief contact can destroy them. And most of the authors have placed anti-enchantment spells on them because they're all originals. Tell you what- you learn to read Latin and I'll let you have a go at anything you see here that tickles your fancy, all right?"

Draco nodded and Celeste motioned with her hand that he should have a seat on the couch. He did so and noticed that all the golden goblets had mysteriously disappeared, which was just as well. The wine had merely increased his aching for water. Swallowing, Draco tried to ignore the parched state of his throat.

Celeste sat in the velvet chair to his right and took a deep breath. "I wanted to speak with you privately, which is why I had Jasper show your mother to her room. I think it only fair that you know the truth about who I am, what I do, and why your mother saw it fit to entrust both of your lives to a woman you've never even heard of."

Draco nodded, for he had been wondering why, if his mother trusted and cared for Celeste so much, he had never heard of the woman. Earlier, Celeste had said it'd been seventeen years. Then why, after such a long silence between the two, was it Celeste that Narcissa turned to for help? An even better question, how had Narcissa known how to contact her? The forests of Romania were known to contain things far worse than just your typical wolf or common cougar. There was no way a domesticated owl would be able to make it through the forests alive, especially the Krakshi Forest. Very few wizards dared to travel into the forest's depths and those who did rarely returned unscathed.

"I'm going to tell you a story and I expect you'll have many questions. Please don't hesitate to ask them. I doubt you'll like all I have to say, but you need to know. You need to know why your mother came to me, why we haven't spoken in seventeen years, and, most importantly, why Albus Dumbledore was not the only wizard Voldemort ever feared."

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

It was nearly noon when Draco Malfoy finally awoke, which was a rarity for the Slytherin Prince. Normally, it was impossible for Draco to sleep past nine, but last night had kept him up until almost four in the morning. When he'd finally poured himself into bed, exhausted and disorientated, he hadn't taken any notice of his surroundings. But now that he was awake and the sun was shining into his rather large room, Draco couldn't help but stare.

This room was nearly as large as his own back at Malfoy Manor, which was saying quite a bit. The bed he slept in was covered in green sheets of satin, a thousand-thread count from the feel of them. The comforter was a black, goose-down one. There were black and green plush pillows as well, and Draco had to force himself to lift his head off of them. The bed frame was made of deep oak, and a glance around showed him that seemed to be a common theme throughout the room.

There was a fireplace across from the bed and a door with a silver handle to the right of the fireplace. A jar of Floo powder was set conveniently to the left on a stand. An oak desk and chair set was situated against the adjacent wall to his left, complete with a quill, an inkwell set, and plenty of parchment, though that seemed rather pointless to Draco, as he knew there would be no contact with the outside world during his stay. To the right of the dresser were two glass French doors that opened up onto a large stone balcony overlooking the West side of the Krakshi Forest.

The right adjacent wall held a considerable wardrobe, and to its left was a bureau complete with a square shaped mirror. The handles of the dresser and wardrobe were both silver serpents and Draco smirked appreciatively.

Gracefully tossing the sheets back, Draco climbed out of the king-sized bed and padded over to the door by the fireplace. Opening it, he was not surprised to find a marble floored bathroom, complete with a bathtub big enough to fit at least three people and a sizeable shower stall. Both spigots on the bathtub and shower were what appeared to be silver dragon mouths. White towels with a golden V encrusted on the bottom right corner hung neatly on the towel rack to the right of the shower. On the left wall was a marble sink with an oval mirror sitting next to a white commode.

Draco, never one who favored baths, bypassed the tub and turned on the shower until it was the perfect temperature, lukewarm in feel, and stripped himself of the black boxers he'd been wearing. Draco stood in the shower for at least ten minutes, allowing the water to cascade down his back, before he began to wash away the grime that was lightly caked on his body. He hissed when the palms of his hands brushed against the soap, but swallowed the pain and scrubbed away.

When he finally turned off the water and his pale, nimble fingers wrapped the white towel around his waist, Draco stepped out from the shower and strode into his bedroom. His feet padded silently across the black carpeting and out onto the balcony. The stone was cool beneath his feet, the scorching sun blocked slightly by the large forest that loomed only a few feet away. But the heated breeze trailed lightly over his skin, drying the water that was still dripping from his body.

This is my home now. His chest tightened as the need to escape arose within him. Draco had always hated boundaries and rules, having been taught that he lived above them. And now that he had to follow them, now that both his life and his mother's relied on their obedience, it seemed to him that everything was caving in around him. Closing his eyes, Draco concentrated on stilling his breathing. It could always be worse. You could be living in one of those hovels the townspeople called homes.

A soft rustle behind him drew him from his thoughts and Draco whirled around, silently cursing himself for leaving his wand on the mahogany desk. His grey eyes quickly scanned the shadows of the balcony before they were slowly pulled upwards. There, in the shade of the stone manor, perched on the side of the wall, was one of the shadow creatures Draco had seen the previous night.

The beast had a round head, shaped similarly to a cat's, though a fair bit larger, and two black, stubby horns, about six inches in length, rose from the top of its head. The creature's pointed ears rested on the side of its head and its wings were tucked into its jade and scaled body. One look into the beast's onyx orbs and Draco knew exactly what he was staring at. A gargoyle.

The gargoyle, a male from the look of it, as females were often purple in color, lazily stretched its wings and descended to the balcony. Draco stumbled back, his face frozen in panic. After all, gargoyles were known for their fierce loyalty and protective ways. If this one thought him an intruder... there wouldn't be much hope for him. The beast opened his mouth in what could have been a yawn and Draco got a lovely look at a two rows of fatally sharp teeth. Its clawed feet, shaped much like hands, carried it closer to Draco, who found that he was quickly running out of balcony.

When his back pressed up against the railing, Draco considered his chances. Should he jump and try his luck with a three-story fall, or face the gargoyle's wrath? Fortunately, his deliberations were halted when the green-scaled creature kneeled before him in an obvious act of cordiality. Surprise registered on Draco's face. Was this creature assigned to his protection? It was not unheard of, especially in dark places like Romania. Warily, Draco removed a hand from the banister and offered it palm up to the gargoyle, who in turn flicked its snake-like tongue against his waxen skin.

Relief flooded his body as the creature receded, and Draco eyed it inquisitively as it then proceeded to saunter into his room, its tail flicking back and forth. When Draco made his way back into his bedroom, he was surprised to see the gargoyle resting contently on a large velvet pillow that had appeared by the hearth. The creature's eyes cracked open and watched Draco carefully. Sighing, Draco sat himself on the bed, his hands resting lightly on his knees.

"I guess I've no choice but to name you. How's Alec sound?"

The gargoyle swished his tail in response and resumed his resting state while Draco merely rolled his eyes. Tossing himself back, Draco rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and ran his fingers through his silvery-blonde strands. After a moment, he rolled up and headed towards the wardrobe, dropping his towel in the process.

As soon as he'd grabbed a suitable outfit from the wardrobe, which turned out to be hiding a rather large room containing all his clothing, Draco headed towards the door. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick charm that immediately dried and styled his hair, Draco moved to exit the room. Alec raised his head and let out a small grunt, slowly lifting his body from the velvet cushion. Draco tossed him a smirk and shook his head.

"You stay here. I'll be back."

Alec eyed him carefully, but lowered his body anyway. His tail flicked impatiently, almost as if to tell Draco to return soon. Draco turned the silver handle and walked out into the lengthy hallway, intent on investigating his new dwelling, and any secrets he might find within.

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

Ginny Weasley allowed her eyes to scan the figure staring back at her in the mirror, her brow furrowed and the left half of her nose scrunched up. What was Fleur thinking? With a sigh, she composed herself, ridding her face of its agitated look.

Might as well make the best of it, she thought. Honestly, the dress wasn't that bad. In fact, it fit Ginny quite nicely. The strapless dress had a simple A-line cut with a white ribbon tied at the waist of the princess bodice. It flowed gently down to her knees, where it cut off with a lace trim. But, and this is what truly vexed the redhead, it was powder blue, a light pastel color that never failed to completely wash her out.

Shaking her head, Ginny turned away from the mirror and walked across her bedroom, flopping down on her twin-sized bed. She buried her head in her pillow and closed her eyes, wishing more than anything that she could just drift off to sleep. However, she didn't think her mother, or anybody really, would be too happy with her if she slept through the ceremony. Turning her head on its side, Ginny's brown eyes caught a glimpse of the small, silver object resting on her nightstand. The corners of her mouth tipped up in a small smile as she recalled her latest shopping trip to Diagon Alley.

Glancing down at her watch, Ginny was a bit annoyed to find she still had an hour left before she had to meet her mother in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. She sighed heavily and looked around, trying to find something she could do. Ginny had never cared much for shopping. Growing up with six brothers and a tight budget had most assuredly sucked all the fun out of such an experience. With nothing else to do, Ginny readjusted the wedding present she'd bought for Bill and Fleur, a set of his and her bathrobes she'd found that would be perfect for the soon-to-be newlyweds, and headed towards Flourish and Blotts.

Her brown eyes lazily swept the display cases of the various stores, her gaze lingering a bit when she passed the latest broomstick, the Skylark, and then she stopped moving altogether. Sitting between the Apothecary and Eeylops Owl Emporium was a shop Ginny had never seen before. The wooden sign read Nora's Nook and from first glance Ginny could see the little shop held everything from beautiful glass ballerinas to hand-stitched quilts. Curious, for she had never seen a shop like this in Diagon Alley, Ginny stepped inside.

The moment her foot touched the welcome mat, a soft bell chimed daintily and a short, plump witch appeared from the back of the store. Her hair was a soft grey, piled on top of her head with chopsticks, and her face was slightly wrinkled, though her warm blue eyes shined brightly. She was dressed in a simple turquoise wizarding robe, with copper buttons running down the front. The woman smiled warmly at Ginny.

"Welcome dear. My name is Nora, is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

Ginny shook her head and smiled. "Just thought I'd take a look around. How long have you been here?"

"Just moved in this May, actually."

Ginny stared at the woman curiously. Ever since Voldemort had made his presence known to the wizarding world, few people dared keep their stores open. Ginny couldn't imagine what had possessed Nora to open her shop in such dismal times. Business couldn't be very good. As if sensing Ginny's thoughts, Nora smiled and leaned forward.

"You can't let fear rule your life. I've been planning this for years and no power hungry, crazed snake of a man is going to keep me from opening up shop."

The old woman winked at Ginny and walked to her office, leaving a wide-eyed redhead in her wake. A wide grin slowly appeared on Ginny's face and she wandered around the small store. Nora was definitely not your average woman, and Ginny couldn't help but like her. Gazing around at the intricate trinkets, Ginny was amazed at the craftsmanship that must have gone into each and every design. The ballerinas danced around with perfect grace, their toes pointed with poise, and the butterflies woven onto the quilts floated about the cloth as if they were alive, each wing stitched with such obvious precision.

When she finally made her way to the back of the store, Ginny saw a counter full of antique jewelry. Rings encrusted with precious gems and silver charm bracelets bearing swimming dolphins and soaring eagles gleamed brightly in the afternoon light. Glancing at the far right corner of the glass display, Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat.

It was obviously an antique, but it was beautiful all the same. The snowflake shaped brooch twinkled even in the shadows, each point decorated with a tiny blue gem. Ginny fingered the glass above the brooch and she yearned to hold it, though she knew she'd never be able to afford it.

Biting her lower lip, Ginny forced herself to turn away from the delicate item, and nearly ran straight into Nora. The old woman merely smiled softly and glanced over Ginny's shoulder at the display case.

"Something catch your eye, dear?"

"Its nothing," Ginny said, returning the smile half-heartedly.

"Nonsense," Nora replied, grabbing Ginny's arm and turning her back around. Quickly she made her way to the other side of the counter and opened the door to the case. "Now, which one was it?"

"The brooch," Ginny answered.

Nora nodded and her frail hands grasped the antique. She placed it delicately on the glass counter. Hesitantly, Ginny set her boxes down and reached out to touch the snowflake brooch. What harm could it do? she thought.

Her hands traced over the brooch and immediately Ginny regretted her decision. It was perfect. The light blue stones winked merrily at her and the metal felt cool and wonderful against her fingers.

"How much?" she asked, dreading Nora's reply.

"Well, normally I'd charge seven galleons for it," at this Ginny felt her shoulders slump as she began to reluctantly place the item back on the counter, "but," Nora continued, "I'll give it to you for three Galleons and seven Sickles. How does that sound?"

Ginny's eyes jerked up at this. Nora was offering to take half the price off! "But, why?"

Nora's hand reached out and squeezed Ginny's, her blue eyes filled with a warm glow. "Because I like you. I doubt I'll be getting much business these days anyway and besides, brooches are hardly in style anymore. I'd much rather sell it for a discount to someone who'll take care of it than full price to someone who won't appreciate it."

"Is it special to you?"

Nora shook her head. "No, no. I bought it years ago from a fellow in Scotland, actually. I just happen to think all beautiful treasures should be treated with care. So how about it dear? Sound like a fair deal to you?"

Ginny knew that she still had three Galleons, ten Sickles, and four Knuts left over from the money she'd taken out of her savings to afford Bill's gift. But, while she desperately wanted the antique in her hands, she couldn't help but feel that Nora deserved more for her generosity.

"More than fair," she said. "Are you sure there's nothing more you want? I could come work for you at your shop, to help pay,"

"Nonsense," Nora interrupted and then hesitated. "But, if you really want to make it up... then write to me. With my dear husband passed on and my daughter living in America with her own family, I do get awfully lonely at times."

Ginny's face broke out in a wide smile. "Done."

Nora smiled back and gave Ginny's hands another squeeze. "Excellent. Just send the owl to Blackpool. I'm the only Nora Hudgins in the area."

A quick glance at her watch and Ginny knew she had to leave, or risk her mother's wrath and worry. So, after paying for the brooch and leaving Nora with a fond farewell and promises to write soon, Ginny grabbed her packages and ran out of the shop and down the streets of Diagon Alley to meet her mother.

Rolling up, Ginny picked the brooch off the table and ran her hands over the cool metal. Ginny had planned on hanging the snowflake on a silver chain, but hadn't found the time. She stood up to dig through her jewelry box for an appropriate necklace when she heard a soft knocking on her door.

"Come in!"

The door opened slowly to reveal Charlie Weasley. He looked dashing in his powder blue robe with bronze buttons down the front. His was trimmed in white as well and, Ginny noted with a roll of her eyes, Charlie's tan skin actually pulled off the light blue color quite well. He smiled at her, his right hand running through his short, spiked hair.

"You look great, Gin."

Walking forward Charlie wrapped her in a hug, which Ginny heartily returned. Though she loved all her brothers equally (well, maybe not Percy she thought), Ginny had to admit that she'd always had a special connection with Charlie. He always seemed to understand just how she felt, even when she couldn't find the words to express herself.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she answered.

"Thanks," he said, the left corner of his lips tipping up slightly. "Mum sent me up to get you, its almost time."

"I know."

Not that Ginny wasn't thrilled Bill had finally met someone who made him happy, but did it have to be Fleur? True, Fleur had stuck by Bill in the aftermath of his Fenrir attack, which earned her major brownie points, but she still had that flighty, sometimes fake air about her that never ceased to grate Ginny's nerves. Nevertheless, if Bill was happy, she'd just have to deal with Phlegm.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Charlie asked, and Ginny knew he wasn't talking about the wedding.

She smiled sadly. "It hurts, you know? But there's not much I can do about it. I mean, how selfish would it be to ask him to stay with me? 'Sorry Harry, you can't go save the world from the worst wizard ever known, you've got to stay at Hogwarts and be my boyfriend.'"

Charlie didn't say anything. He just stared at her for a moment and Ginny wondered what he was thinking about, his blue eyes lined with a twinge of sadness. Before she could ask, he cupped her cheek with his palm and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "You're braver than I would be," he whispered.

Glancing down at her hand, Charlie grabbed the brooch and placed it over the ribbon that tied her hair in a low, side ponytail. Muttering a few words Ginny didn't recognize, he attached the small brooch to her ribbon. Ginny glanced in the mirror and smiled. It looked lovely, even if it was at least ninety degrees outside and the snowflake would seem a bit out of place.

Ginny flashed Charlie a wide smile and he merely winked in return. He held out his hand and bowed playfully. "My lady?"

Ginny giggled and curtsied. "Good sir," she replied. The two made their way, arm in arm, down the rickety staircase of the Burrow and outside, where the wedding party awaited.