December, 2010
"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives."
- C.S. Lewis
~*~
He was running late, again.
Draco took the Library steps two at a time, sliding neatly around the gaggle of teenage witches hovering near the doors, and stepped inside. He paused in the foyer to catch his breath, dust the snowflakes off the shoulders of his jacket and run a quick hand through his hair. He had foregone his normal suit and neat ponytail in favour of jeans and a heavy sweater under a leather winter jacket; he was well aware that he didn't exactly blend in with the crowds of wizards in woolen robes and winter-weight cloaks, but didn't much care. Draco strode past Ms. Phillips at her desk and up the long aisle to the staircase. Dumbledore winked at him as he went past, and Draco couldn't help but smile slightly at the twinkle in the old man's painted eye. He paused at the top of the stairs and glanced around the mezzanine, searching for a telltale flash of red hair. He finally spotted it, tucked in a corner near the back.
He smiled again, and headed toward the table Ginny had taken over. She was wearing deep blue robes today, with trim black pants underneath. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, and shone in the light from the windows above like fire as she bent over the table, writing furiously. She paused occasionally to chew on the end of her quill, tilting her head and furrowing her forehead in concentration in a way that Draco privately thought was adorable. He stopped directly behind her and slid his hands up her arms and over her shoulders, letting her curls slide over his fingers like silk.
"Hello," he murmured, lowering his head so that his lips were inches from her ear. Ginny jumped slightly, then turned her head toward him and rested her cheek against his.
"Hello," she whispered back. She pulled her head back far enough so she could look into his eyes. "You're late."
Draco looked sheepish. "I know, sorry." He straightened up and sank into the chair beside her, capturing her left hand and twining his fingers with hers. "Got caught in traffic, and it took me longer to get here than I thought it would."
"Excuses, excuses," Ginny grinned. "Actually, it's alright. To be honest, I got caught up and didn't notice."
Draco eyed the piles of books and paper with interest. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"Research. I'm working on a story for Witch Weekly, and this - " she waved her free hand at the mess on the table " - is background material."
"What's the story on?" he asked, tilting one of the books toward him.
"Recent advances in medical magic. Did you know, they're beginning to do research on curing things like leukemia and blood-transmitted viruses with magic? There's a huge debate going on right now over whether wizards have the moral obligation to share our advances with Muggles if anything comes of the research being done now."
Draco nodded. "Interesting."
Ginny shot him a sidelong glance and freed her hand so that she could gather up her papers. "Yes, you sound interested," she said wryly.
"Well, I'm a cop. I only arrest people, I don't heal them."
"It falls into the realm of public service, doesn't it? As a policeman or a doctor, you're still doing good for your community. All the same sort of thing."
Draco snorted. "More or less. Bit less than more, lately."
"Work trouble?"
"Work frustration. It's horribly disconcerting to know I'm being constantly outsmarted by a couple of teenage thugs."
"What are they doing, anyway?" Ginny asked with curiosity. She began busily packing her books and papers into her shoulder bag (It seemed to have the same charm on it as the backpack she took grocery shopping, because she was fitting an alarming amount of paper in it and it didn't seem to be getting any fuller). "You keep saying you're following people, but not why."
"There's two of them, and they're robbing banks."
"What?" Ginny stopped to gape at Draco. "You can't rob Gringott's! It's not possible!"
"Not wizard banks, Muggle banks," Draco said. "It'd make my life much easier if they did take a crack at Gringott's. No, these boys know their limits and are sticking to people who can't fight back. They go in, use Imperious and an amusing array of other Dark spells on the tellers, steal the money, Memory Charm anyone within reach and leave. Use magic to take out the security cameras, disarm electrical security systems, make bank guards look the other way, leave no fingerprints, no magical traces, no real patterns...I don't even know what the one looks like. All we've got so far is a small pendant with a charm on it we can't identify. They're actually rather clever about it. I'm honestly surprised no one's thought of it before." Draco looked at Ginny seriously. "And you don't know any of this, by the way. I'm only telling you because I doubt you'll try to use any of their ideas."
"Good to know you trust me," Ginny said with asperity. "Next time I rob a bank, I'll be sure not to mention your name."
"See that you don't, you'll ruin my reputation," Draco smirked. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, gathering up her cloak, which had been draped over one of the chairs.
"Well, I'd hate to do that, but if you're still willing to be seen with me, I'll let you take me for lunch." She smiled up at him and he grinned back and reached out to brush a stray curl off her cheek.
"I would be delighted," Draco said softly. Then he cleared his throat and looked around. "But not around here, if you don't mind."
"Oh! Oh, of course not," Ginny said quickly. She turned to make her way to the stair, talking over her shoulder. "I even wore something I could get away with wearing in Muggle London, because I thought that would be where we'd go." She twirled around on the landing, showing off her robes, which were cut like a duster, split up the front to her hips, then buttoned up to her throat with a mandarin collar. "It's not quite robes, and not quite a dress, so I thought it'd do for either."
Draco made a show of leaning back and sizing her up. "I suppose it'll do," he said dubiously, and she hit him lightly on the arm. "Ow!" Draco laughed as he backed out of range. "If you hit me, I won't take you anywhere."
Ginny laughed and winked at him. "Just trying to keep you in line," she said. Draco made innocent noises as he followed Ginny the rest of the way down the stairs and out to the front door of the library.
They made their way up to the Leaky Cauldron and out to Charing Cross Road. Draco paused, looking up the street. "Well, we could go find my car and drive, or just walk and see if we find an interesting place to eat."
"Let's walk. It's not too cold to be outside, and I've been stuck in the Library all morning," Ginny said. "We can be leisurely and stroll around and look at Christmas decorations. Or do you have to be somewhere this afternoon?"
"Not really. Neville said he'd call me if he heard anything interesting, but he's got other things to work on this afternoon, so I'm pretty much free," Draco replied. He took her hand as they started walking up the road, stopping occasionally to admire the decorations in the store windows.
"I love Christmas," Ginny sighed happily. "It's so cozy. All trees and presents and Christmas carols and spending time with family... Oh, and speaking of family, I meant to ask you what you were doing for the holidays." She looked up at Draco anxiously. "Because if you're not going anywhere, you're welcome to come to my parents' for dinner. They wouldn't mind...we're all always bringing people over; Neville's coming this year, and they'd be happy to have you."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Of course," Ginny replied. "It's Christmas, they wouldn't mind at all. And Harry wouldn't be there, if that's what you're worried about. He spends Christmas Eve with Sirius."
Ah," Draco said. "Well, thank you, but actually, I'm going home for Christmas."
"Home?" Ginny looked at him inquiringly.
"To Calgary. Well, Fort Macleod, actually."
"Oh." Ginny walked along thoughtfully for a minute. "Where's-"
Draco laughed. "Southern Alberta, about 3 hours south of Calgary. I really am going to buy you an atlas for Christmas."
"Actually, I'd prefer a new cloak, if you don't mind. Mine's getting rather ragged, you know." Ginny grinned at him, winking to let him know she was teasing.
"I'll bear that in mind. But yes, I am going back to Alberta for the holidays. Not long though, just for a few days."
"Ah." Ginny nodded, then said nothing, scuffing her feet on the sidewalk as they strolled. She was biting at her bottom lip, as if she were thinking about something very hard.
Draco squeezed her hand. "You want to ask me something, don't you?" he asked gently.
Ginny blushed. "No...it's just a bit strange to think of you having a home anywhere but here. You never seem to talk about it."
"It never occurs to me to bring it up, actually." Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "I know everyone, and what they're like, and just between you and me, they're really rather boring." He smiled slightly.
"'They'?" Ginny asked interestedly, then stopped awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."
"I don't mind, really," Draco said. "Half the time it never even occurs to me to mention things. And I feel sort of silly, talking about my life now. Not talking about home, exactly, just having to explain what it means to me. I can never think of a way to without having it sound...trite. You know, 'this is the family I've chosen' and all that greeting-card sap. Hate that."
Ginny laughed. "That doesn't mean you can't tell me about them. I promise not to think of you in rhyming couplets or two line platitudes."
Draco smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, I think. You really want to know?"
His smile deepened as Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "All right." He frowned thoughtfully. "It's a long story, though."
Ginny laughed. "We do have time."
"All right then." He paused consideringly. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. I ended up in Toronto in June of '98, and started making my way west for lack of anything better to do. I ran out of money in Winnipeg, and was hitchhiking and sort of scraping by, still heading more or less west, more because it seemed like the thing to do than out of any desire to see the West Coast. At the time, I knew about as much about Canadian geography as you do." He smiled and tugged at her hand.
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll petition to have them add it to the Hogwarts curriculum," she said.
"Hey, it would have been useful to me. Anyway, there's not much there but grass and more grass, it sort of feels like you have to keep moving just to be doing something. So I kept hitching west, spent a little while in Swift Current - which is in Saskatchewan - but not long. By October, I'd made it as far as Lethbridge, which is also in Southern Alberta, before you ask, and a man named Ed MacDouglas stopped and picked me up on the highway. He offered to take me as far as Fort Macleod, and I fell asleep in his truck, to my everlasting shame. It was freezing out, and he didn't want to dump me in town in the cold in the middle of the night, so he took me to his house instead. He and his wife Anne have a ranch southwest of town, and they let me stay with them for a while. They have three sons, and they used to be foster parents."
He stopped at Ginny's confused look. "It's a Muggle thing. They take in children whose own families can't or won't care for them, and the government pays them money for doing it. Anyway, they have 3 sons of their own, although by that time, Keith had moved into his own house, and Jay had moved to Calgary, so only Mark was still at home, and 2 or 3 official foster kids still around when I met them, and probably 2 or 3 kids, like me, who were there just because we didn't have any place else to go. 'Strays', Anne used to call us. It was usually a pretty crowded place. So I stayed there for a while, helped out on the ranch for the first few months, learned that I will never, ever be a cowboy, no matter how hard I try - " Draco stopped walking as Ginny burst out laughing. "What? It's true, I won't."
"I'm just trying to picture you as a cowboy," she said between giggles.
Draco tugged at her hand again. "It's not that funny," he grumbled. "And it was only because I'm not actually all that good with farm animals that I am a cop and not a ranch hand," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster with Ginny hanging off his hand and tittering. "Stop that. Do you want to hear this or not?"
"I'm sorry, carry on," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. "Though I think you'd look quite dashing in a cowboy hat."
"I'm sure I have a picture somewhere," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "If it amuses you so much, I'll find one and give it to you. Anyway..." He glared at Ginny, who had started giggling again. "While I was there, I met John, who was one of the official foster kids...one of their first, in fact. He's a lawyer now, though he was still in university at the time, and we became quite good friends. I moved to Calgary with him the year after I arrived there, when I finally admitted that my career as a ranch-hand was doomed to be a short one." He stopped to scowl at Ginny again, who was trying to muffle her snickering. "If you don't stop, I won't tell you the rest."
"Sorry, sorry." Ginny took several deep breaths and managed to get her laughter under control. "Go on."
"Now I can't remember what I was going to say," Draco grumbled.
"Something about John," Ginny reminded him. "See? I'm paying attention."
"Right. John." He paused again, collecting his thoughts, then continued. "John is directly responsible for changing a lot of the things I thought about the world. He's a big guy, and he's native, so people tend to see him and think, "big dumb Indian", and assume he's not too bright. Usually to their detriment, because he is the smartest person I have ever met," Draco said with a laugh. "He taught me a great deal about the dangers of stereotyping. Not overnight, mind you. He likes to remind me constantly that I was rather insufferable when I first arrived in Canada." He laughed softly. "If I am a changed man, it's largely his doing. He's a good person. And patient. And bigger than me...he used to take great pleasure in pounding on me if he thought I was being a git. If someone who is six feet six and weighs 250 pounds takes exception to your behaviour...well, I learned fast."
Ginny had to laugh at that. "He sounds like a nice guy. Is he the one who - "
"Wanted me to join the RCMP, yes. Against Anne's wishes; she didn't want me to. But I did anyway, in the spring of 2000, and got transferred back to Calgary after I did my training. John and I actually own a house together, and he has threatened me with dire consequences if I don't go back for Christmas. I'm his surprise for Anne; we've been telling her I was staying here so that we could surprise the hell out of her when I get there."
"You own a house?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed.
Draco nodded. "I do. Not a big house, mind you, just a little one. It's basically a little box." Draco gestured a square with one hand. "It's got two small bedrooms upstairs, and a little living room and a tiny kitchen, and we developed the basement, so there's another bedroom down there, and a sort of den. All told, it's probably smaller than your apartment. Big yard though."
"Oh," Ginny said softly. Draco glanced at her; she looked pensive and vaguely worried. He stopped suddenly and turned to her, holding onto her hand so that she spun to face him. Ginny gasped in astonishment as he pulled her against his chest. "What?" she said uncertainly.
"I'll show it to you someday, if you want," Draco said softly, smiling down at her.
"I'd like that," Ginny smiled. "So have you given any thought to what you'll do when you finish your case?"
Draco sighed. "If we finish it...I have the sinking feeling that the only way we're going to catch them is if they screw up. As it is, I've done one or two things for Scotland Yard , and I'm helping Neville with a few other things here and there. Nothing much, but it's work. Gives me something to do while we wait. His boss is a bit overbearing, I must say."
Ginny had sat through Neville's ranting more than once, when Cecil Dobbins was being particularly demanding, and she grinned at Draco's understatement. "He's a good Auror, though."
"Who, Neville, or Cecil?"
"Cecil."
"Yes. Loud, but good. Smart man," Draco nodded.
"Have you decided what you'll do, though? After you finish?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Not really. Cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose. Neville keeps reminding me that Cecil would love to offer me a job, but I do already have one."
"I expect you've got lots of reasons to stay in Canada," Ginny said quietly. "It sounds like you're quite happy there."
"There are reasons to stay here, too," he said softly, and leaned sideways to brush his lips against her forehead. Then he stopped, wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her up a few inches, so that she was at eye level, then spun her in a small circle. Ginny shrieked and clutched at his shoulders, laughing. "What are you doing?"
Draco stopped, but didn't put her down. "Nothing," he said, still smiling, and kissed her.
She tangled her hands in his hair and melted against him, smiling against his mouth. They stayed there, in the middle of the sidewalk kissing, until a group of teenage boys strode past and around them, hooting and yelling, "Get a room!". Draco set Ginny back on her feet as they broke apart, laughing. Ginny slipped her arm around his waist and leaned against his side as they started walking again.
They were halfway to Trafalger before they found a quiet restaurant to have lunch in.They spent a leisurely hour over sandwiches and tea before wandering back up the other side of the street toward the Leaky Cauldron. They stopped on the street corner before the entrance to the pub, and Draco took Ginny's hands in his. "Will I see you before Christmas?" Draco asked.
Ginny frowned. "I'm not sure. I've got the article to finish, and Mum can't take the kids again before Christmas, so all my free time will be spent watching them. We can try, though. Weekend after next is Harry's so I'll be child-free for a bit."
"All right. I'll call you, then. Have a good day." He smiled down at her then leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye," she whispered back, and dropped his hands reluctantly before turning to go into the Cauldron and back to the Library.
~*~
Christmas Eve, 2010
Neville arrived at Ginny's flat around mid-afternoon and let himself in. "Hullo," he called, walking into the kitchen. William was sitting on the kitchen floor, amusing himself by banging a wooden spoon against the linoleum.
"Have you talked to Draco?" Neville asked as Ginny rushed past him.
"Not since the beginning of the month...he's been busy and I was swamped with research, and Harry decided to leave the kids with me on his weekend again, and it's just been too crazy," she called over her shoulder. "And he left for Canada this morning. Be a dear and grab Willie for me, can you?"
Neville obliged, wandering further into the kitchen and scooping up William. "What time are we supposed to be at your parents?"
Ginny appeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen, Jamie in tow. "Sometime in the afternoon, was all Mum said. Once I get the monsters organized, we can go." She rushed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a large casserole dish. "Will you carry this for me? I'll take William."
They switched, Ginny collected Sarah and Jamie, and soon they spilled into the living room of the Burrow in a shower of ash and soot. Ginny dusted Sarah and Jamie off and sent them in search of their myriad cousins, and held desperately on to William as he tried to make an escape for the floor. "Willie, stop that, I'll put you down in a minute. Neville, get the door?"
Neville rushed to open the door to the hall, juggling Ginny's casserole in one hand while she wrestled with Willie. Finally she gave up and set him on the ground, where he immediately made a beeline for the staircase. Ginny sighed and started after him. "Willie, get back here! God help us all when he's old enough to fly."
George's wife Natalie, a tiny, sweet-faced woman who had been two years behind Ginny in Gryffindor, appeared in the hall and scooped William up before he could make it to the stairs. "Hullo, Ginny, Neville! I'm just helping Angelina tidy some things...the boys are all in the kitchen. Want me to keep an eye on Wills here?"
"If you could, Nat, that would be darling, thanks. I'll come collect him once we get everything away." Ginny waved gratefully as Natalie disappeared with William, then led Neville the other way down the hall to the kitchen.
The small kitchen hadn't got noticeably bigger over the years; it was still too small to fit more than 8 people comfortably at the table, so most family dinners (with all the Weasleys, wives, children, friends and various other visitors) were usually a communal affair, with people helping themselves to food and finding a perch wherever they could in the living room to eat. At Hermione's suggestion, dinner had also become a sort of potluck as well, so that Molly and Arthur wouldn't bear sole expense for the feeding of anywhere from 16 to 30 mouths. The scrubbed wooden table that dominated the low room currently held Fred and George at chairs, and Charlie propped against one end and chatting with the twins. They all looked up and greeted Ginny and Neville as they came in.
"Where is everyone?" Ginny asked, setting the casserole dish down on the counter.
"Two of your monsters just made a mad dash through here to the outdoors, Percy's out there too, being Percy-ish at the rest of the ankle-biters, and Mum is rummaging in the attic looking for Dad's old boots," Charlie told her. "Dad's still at work, Angelina and Natalie are off doing some sort of cleaning thing for Mum, and I haven't the foggiest where Penelope's gone off to. Probably outside trying to stop Percy from spoiling all the fun. Ron and Hermione and the young twins are spending tonight with Harry and Sirius and Remus over at Sirius' place, so they won't be here."
"Ah," Ginny said. She eyed her casserole dish. "I guess I didn't need to make quite so much, then."
George craned his neck. "Is that your bean casserole? If it is, don't worry, it'll get eaten."
Ginny beamed at him. "Well, thank you. Always nice to see my cooking is appreciated."
Fred gasped at his twin. "Dammit, George, now she's gonna expect us to actually eat the stuff! Good going!"
"Fred!" Ginny brandished her fist at him. "You're such a git."
He snickered and hid behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. "No attacking the man with the news! You'll wreck the paper and I'm not done reading it."
"Reading the comics section that is," Charlie said. "Never let it be said that news is your first priority."
"Hah! I am too reading the news!" Fred flipped the paper around so he could scan the front page. "I'm reading it right now, see? Well, would you look at this," Fred said suddenly. He cleared his throat and read: "From Riches to More Riches: Malfoy Manor is Up For Sale."
"What's that?" George asked. He and Charlie moved closer to Fred to see what he was reading. Ginny looked inquiringly at Neville, who shook his head in bewilderment.
"That's the headline," Fred replied, showing the paper to his brothers. "See?"
"I thought all the Malfoys were dead," Charlie said, craning his neck to read over Fred's shoulder.
"I thought they were too." Fred scanned the page again. "It just says here that the lawyers aren't commenting except to say that it's for sale. Maybe they got sick of having to keep it up, decided to liquidate it. Must be easier just to look after money than look after property."
"All the Malfoys aren't dead," George interjected. "Natalie said she was talking to Katie last week, and Katie says that Draco Malfoy is in the Ministry all the time. She says he works there."
"Draco Malfoy? Wasn't he the scrawny little git who hated Harry's guts at Hogwarts? Pale, washed out little bigot with the nasty attitude?" Fred asked.
"That was him...I thought he died after the war, though. Oi, Neville! You work with Katie, don't you? Have you seen Draco 'round the Ministry?" George looked over Fred's shoulder at Neville, who gulped and shot an agonized glance at Ginny. She was glaring at him and trying to shake her head 'no' without looking like she was doing it.
"I - "
"Here, Fred, let us have a read." Charlie interrupted, as he reached over and tried to wrestle the paper from Fred's grip. Fred yelled, distracted.
"Piss off and find your own paper, or wait 'til I'm done," Fred said belligerently, trying to duck away from Charlie and from George, who was leaning over the other side of his chair. Neville shifted closer to Ginny and watched the ensuing scuffle as George and Charlie jumped on top of Fred.
"Argh! Get away!" Fred batted at his brothers furiously. "I had it first!"
"Read it aloud, then!" George gave Fred's throat an extra squeeze before unwrapping his arm from around his brother's neck. He stepped away and sat down in the chair next to his twin, tapping his foot impatiently.
"I would if you'd bloody leave me alone." Fred glared at Charlie until he went and sat down beside George, then straightened the paper out and cleared his throat. "Right, then. 'Malfoy Manor was listed for sale by the law firm responsible for handling the Malfoy estate, this reporter learned yesterday.' Who's this reporter? Oh...Colin Creevey." Fred looked up at Ginny. "Wasn't Colin Creevey the little runtling in your year who worshipped the ground Harry walked on?
"Yes," Ginny said shortly. "You going to read that thing or not?"
"I'm reading, I'm reading. 'The Gringott's representative for the Malfoy estate refused to comment, except to say that the home was determined to be unsuitable for the current owner, and that the decision was made to open the house for sale to interested persons. The Manor, long the ancestral home of the Malfoy family, has lain vacant for the last twelve years. After the end of the war, it was thoroughly examined and cleansed of magic by the Ministry. Malfoy Manor is unplottable but is rumoured to be set on a sizeable portion of land in the country near Bristol. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy fought for Voldemort in the war, and both were killed in The Battle of Hogwarts.' Best thing Harry ever did, next to offing Voldemort, was killing that bastard," Fred interjected, smiling fondly. "Anyway. 'Their son, Draco was seen on the field at the Battle but vanished soon afterwards and has not been seen nor heard of since, although rumours have come to light that he has recently been spotted at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the younger Malfoy was recently cleared of involvement in the Dark Arts by the Ministry of Magic, the long history tying the Malfoy name to the practice of Dark Magic cannot be ignored.' And there's another article about Lucius and Narcissa, and a big picture of the house, and another couple of the Malfoys. Cor, but Draco's an ugly little bugger."
Neville made a choked sound and covered his mouth with his hand. Ginny smacked him on the shoulder and hissed at him to shut up as Fred leaned over and showed the pictures to Charlie, who winced exaggeratedly and nodded. The picture of Draco was from the start of his seventh year, and he did rather resemble a half-starved rat, scowling ferociously at the camera.
"What a gossip rag," George said disgustedly. "Look, the whole front page is covered with stories about them. Trash like that on the front page at Christmas time. Who wants to read about dead Death Eaters at a time like this?"
"Nothing like a little human interest story for the holidays." Fred grinned. "Warms the cockles of your heart to know that no matter how bad your Christmas seems, it could always be worse. Could be spending it with someone who looks like that." He tapped the photo of Draco, which snarled at him.
It was Ginny's turn to be suddenly overcome with a violent coughing fit. "I think I need some air," she gasped, and fled for the back porch, Neville on her heels. Charlie and the twins watched them go bemusedly.
Ginny collapsed on the small bench outside the back door, hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Neville sat beside her and watched as she giggled, gasping for breath. "Did you know he was selling the Manor?" he asked once she'd got control of herself.
"No...he didn't mention it. Did he tell you?" Ginny wiped at her eyes and glanced inquiringly at Neville.
"No, but then, he wouldn't. I didn't even know he'd stopped going out to Bath." Neville sighed and leaned back on the bench, watching the children tearing around in the garden. There were currently 11 children outside, George and Natalie's daughter, Marjorie and Ginny's William being the sole exceptions; at 3 and 2 respectively, they were really too young to be out in the cold for too long. The children appeared to be gnome-hunting under Percy's supervision, although Neville privately thought that any gnome with sense would have fled from the unstoppable horde of Weasley grandchildren long ago. He watched as Calliope, Fred and Angelina's oldest, scooped up a handful of slushy snow, lobbed it at Percy's head and then fled to join her younger brothers, Timothy and Zachary, behind the old chicken coop. She had her mother's aim; the snowball hit Percy squarely on the back of the head, and he whipped around with a yell, slush dripping off his hair.
"I didn't even know he was staying there in the first place," Ginny said, wiping at her eyes. She glanced at the yard, where Percy had spun around again as Jamie popped up from the other side of the yard and clipped Percy's arm with another slush-ball. "Oh, for - kids!" She stood up suddenly and pulled out her wand, sending a shower of heated sparks toward the third airborne snowball, launched by Timothy this time. It melted in mid-air before it could hit Percy, much to the children's disappointment. "You know what will happen to you if you go dragging muck all over the house! No snowball fights!"
A chorus of groans rose from the yard, even, Neville was amused to notice, from Percy's own children. Apparently picking on their dad was something of a past-time. Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Not that yelling at them is going to help. Pity the poor teachers, when the rest of them are old enough for Hogwarts."
"Who's there now?" Neville asked idly.
"Pelagia and Calliope; Calliope is in Gryffindor, of course, and Pelagia is in Ravenclaw, which is no surprise. She's the spitting image of Penelope. Pembroke starts next year, and he will also be in Ravenclaw, no question. All he ever does is read." She leaned back and sighed. "None of which has anything to do with our conversation. I wonder why he didn't tell anyone he was selling the Manor."
Neville shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want anyone to know. He's like that."
Ginny made a faint disgruntled noise. "I wish he weren't so secretive. Why do I always go for the men who don't talk? Do I have a hidden complex for emotionally unavailable men? Some sort of strong, silent type thing?"
"I talk to you," Neville protested.
"You don't count, we're not dating. And as I recall, not long after we did date, you decided that you were gay."
"You spoiled me for other women." Neville grinned cheekily. "And maybe our Hogwarts romance worked the same way for you, ruined you for anyone else. One dose of the Longbottom mojo and you're spoilt for life."
Ginny sputtered, but Molly appeared on the front step before she could formulate a reply. "Children! Inside, please, dinner is almost ready!" She bustled over to give Neville and Ginny quick hugs. "Didn't see you two come in. Come get washed up!"
"Longbottom mojo?" Ginny hissed at him. "Please!" Neville grinned evilly at her and followed Molly inside to help with dinner, while Ginny went to help a rather relieved looking Percy herd the grandchildren into the house to be washed.
~*~
After supper had been finished and the dishes piled in the sink to be magicked clean later, everyone crowded into the living room, grabbing seats wherever they could. Charlie staked out his portion of the floor, then took the opportunity to head out to the kitchen for refills, collecting glasses from Neville and Angelina on his way by.
"Alright, children...pick your presents," Arthur said, standing by the Christmas tree. Every Christmas Eve, everyone was allowed one present to open in front of Molly and Arthur. The main present-opening would happen at each of their homes on Christmas morning, but Molly didn't want to be deprived of the excitement of watching the children tear into wrapping paper. A small pile of presents appeared by Arthur's chair, and he smiled at his impatiently bouncing grandchildren. "Who wants to go first?"
A chorus of "me, me, me!" was interrupted by Charlie. "Ginny can," he said, coming out from the kitchen holding a paper-wrapped package. "The biggest owl I've ever seen just left this on the porch. Got your name on it."
"Really?" Ginny said in surprise. "How odd. I wasn't expecting anything." Charlie leaned across Fred's lap to hand it to her, and the family watched with interest (and varying degrees of disgruntlement amongst the children) as she unwrapped it carefully. Underneath the brown paper was a package wrapped in gold, tied with a thin silver ribbon. Ginny slowly removed the paper to reveal a box containing a long blue cloak and a large book. The cloak slipped slightly, and Ginny made a grab for it, the soft material sliding across her lap.
"Oh!" Natalie gasped. "Oh, it's beautiful!" She caught a corner of the cloak and held it out. The material was a deep rich blue, made of a soft, felt-like fibre that was smooth and warm to the touch and shone faintly in the glow of the lamps. Ginny stood up to shake out the full length and drape it over her shoulders. It fell to her ankles in shimmering folds, and the hood was lined with soft fur.
Ginny stepped to the centre of the room and spun around, to appreciative murmurs from everyone else. "It's gorgeous!"
"What is that fabric?" asked Angelina, leaning forward to feel the edge of the cloak. Ginny unclasped it and looked at the tag.
"It says it's a blend of alpaca, silk and wool, specially charmed to repel water and store heat. There's a warming charm in the hood, too, I can feel it." She swung it back over her shoulders. "It's lined with silk, I think. Oh, and there's pockets on the inside!"
Natalie sighed jealously. "That must have cost a fortune...who's it from?"
Ginny froze suddenly. "It's...um." She stopped and flushed as Natalie and Angelina watched her with interest. She glanced nervously at Neville, who blinked and shrugged at her. "I - "
"What's the book, Gin?" Fred interrupted loudly. "And who the heck is sending you books anyway? That's more a 'Mione thing, isn't it?"
"Oh, I forgot." Ginny shrugged the cloak off carefully and sat back down, pulling the book from beside the couch cushion, where it had slipped. It was a large book, and heavy, bound in brown leather. She read the cover quickly, then started laughing. "Oh, my God he actually did!"
"What is it?" The whole family was craning their heads, trying to read the cover of the book. Ginny held it up so that they could read the gold embossed lettering, which read Atlas of Canada in curly letters. Neville started laughing uproariously as the rest of the family looked bewildered.
Charlie blinked. "Somebody sent you an atlas of Canada?"
"Is it some sort of joke?" asked George.
"Why is this funny?" Fred demanded of Neville. "I don't get it."
Ginny wiped at her eyes. "He was threatening to get me one, and he really did! I don't believe it!"
"Who?" came a chorus of voices.
Ginny took a deep breath and tried to stop giggling. She glanced up and flushed. "Um...the person I'm seeing."
There was a beat of dead silence before the room exploded with voices.
"What?"
"You're seeing someone?"
"Who?"
"Is he rich?"
"How long has this been going on?"
"Who?"
"Is he Canadian?"
"Who is it?"
Ginny waved her hands, trying to fend off the questions. "One at a time! One at a time! Mum..."
"Now, now, calm down," Molly said, taking charge. She waited until everyone had more or less quieted down before rounding on her daughter angrily. "You're seeing someone?"
"Yes," Ginny said meekly.
"Who?"
Ginny held the book in front of her protectively and said, very quietly, "Draco Malfoy."
There was another absolute silence, then Percy cleared his throat and blinked owlishly. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I could have sworn you just said you were seeing Draco Malfoy."
"That's what I did say," Ginny replied defensively. "We've been dating for two months or so."
There was another moment of shocked silence before the room was engulfed in a flurry of angry voices. It was difficult to make out anything distinct in the roars of outrage; Molly was shaking her finger at her daughter, the twins were on their feet, Arthur was trying to speak over Molly about the dangers of Malfoys in general, and Percy was in full lecture-mode, while the children looked on with interest and Charlie rolled his eyes. Even Angelina and Natalie were talking loudly. Ginny sat rigidly, her book clutched to her chest and waited, her lips pressed tightly together.
"OI!" Neville stood up from his seat on the end of the couch and roared at the top of his lungs, startling everyone into silence. "Leave Ginny alone!" He glared at the collection of Weasleys and extended family, most of whom were red in the face from yelling.
There was a small pause while the adults got over the shock of seeing quiet, retiring Neville shout at them. Then Molly sank back in her chair and moaned. "My only daughter, consorting with a Death Eater!" She sat up straight and glared at Ginny. "Ginny, how could you? What did I do wrong? How can I show my face in Diagon Alley ever again? My own flesh and blood! I can't believe -"
"Now look, Mrs. Weasley, he's not a Death Eater," Neville interrupted firmly. "He's working with me on a case. He's been cleared by the Ministry and he's helping the Department now, which they wouldn't have let him do if they suspected he was a Death Eater. You know that." He looked at Arthur for confirmation, who nodded reluctantly.
"That's true, dear, very particular, are those Aurors. Wouldn't let him in if there were the slightest doubt," Arthur conceded. He still didn't look happy, but he nodded at Neville. "If the Department is willing to let him work for them, he can't be a Death Eater. They're very careful nowadays."
"That's not the point!" Molly wailed. "He's a Malfoy! They're all rotten, the lot of them-"
"Now, Molly, dear, be reasonable - " Arthur attempted, although from the occasional glance he was giving Ginny, he didn't look as though he really wanted to be reasonable himself.
" - probably out casting Dark spells right now in that awful house - "
"Well, you know that's not true, right? He's selling the house," Charlie interrupted cheerfully.
"And anyway, he's gone to Canada for the holidays," said Ginny sharply. "Honestly, Mother, I'm not marrying him, we're just dating."
Molly sat up sharply. "And Harry! What does Harry think of this whole thing, the poor boy? Have you thought of that?"
Nine heads swiveled between Ginny, who had gone white, and Molly as though watching a tennis match. Charlie groaned softly. Ginny sat up a bit straighter and glared at her mother. "Harry does not have a say in the matter," she said stiffly. "And I don't much care what he thinks."
"Well and that's quite obvious, now, isn't it?" Molly shot back.
Ginny gritted her teeth. "We are not having this argument again, Mother."
"All I'm saying is that - "
"Now, Mum, let's not go into this again, please?" George said, leaning forward on his elbows so that he was blocking Ginny partially from Molly's sight. "It's Christmas, aye? We don't need to cover this again. Angie, toss us another present."
Angelina complied, grabbing the closest one she could find and tossing it at George, who read the tag and lobbed it at Percy, hitting him on the forehead and knocking his glasses askew. "Open that up, eh, Perce?"
Percy glared and grumbled, but complied, revealing one of Molly's now-famous jumpers. Arthur caught on and passed a present to Perpetua, Percy and Penelope's youngest daughter, effectively reigniting the present-frenzy among the children. Once Molly had been sufficiently distracted, Ginny rose quietly and escaped to the kitchen, closely followed by Natalie and Neville. Ginny sank into a chair and folded her arms on the table, burying her head in them. "Why does she have to bring that up at every single family function?"
Natalie sat beside her and patted Ginny awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, love, I imagine she's just getting used to the whole idea yet."
"What's to get used to? We've been divorced for over a year!" Ginny moaned.
"Yes, but Molly has always felt like Harry's one of her own, hasn't she?" Natalie said reasonably. Despite being the newest of the Weasley daughters-in-law, with her calm demeanor and quiet cheer, Natalie had quickly become one of the people that everyone seemed to confide in. She had also become, in a family full of people with volatile tempers, a sort of mediator by default. "I suppose she still feels that way."
"But he's not one of her own," Ginny said, her voice rather muffled by her arms. "And I don't care how she thinks of him, she needn't bring it up at every single dinner." She raised her head long enough to clap one hand in front of her chest and lift her voice in an uncanny impression of her mother. "'Oh, I don't know why you left him, the poor boy'." She dropped her hands and growled in disgust. "Not like she ever had to live with Perfect Harry Potter."
Natalie looked at Neville, who shrugged and looked away. He'd heard it all before. "I don't think Molly means it that way," Natalie began tentatively.
"I don't understand why she can't just let it go. Harry and I have managed to...it's been an amicable split, we get along, we're perfectly civil to each other. It's her who seems to want to make an issue of it." Ginny leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.
"I suppose she just doesn't understand why you split up."
"Why?" Ginny lifted her head and glared at Natalie. "Because I wasn't happy, is why. Because he's bloody impossible to live with, is why. Because he was driving me mad and it was either leave or kill him, is why. Because he's Harry fucking Potter, is why. Because he's a - " She clamped her mouth shut suddenly, then took a deep breath. "She never had to live with him. And it's none of her bloody business. I had my reasons."
Natalie leaned back, surprised by Ginny's vehemence. She started to say something, then stopped, obviously trying to formulate some sort of reply, when Fred and George came piling into the room, with Angelina right behind them.
"Molly's calmed down a bit...she's playing with the kids, so I dragged these two reprobates in here to do cleanup," Angelina explained. The twins ignored the dishes in favour of flopping down into chairs, George beside Natalie, and Fred across from Ginny, who transferred her glare to her brothers.
"What do you want now?" Ginny demanded grumpily. "It's bad enough I've got Mum on my back, without you two pulling anything."
"Didn't want much-" George began.
Fred leaned forward. "We were just wondering - "
"Why Malfoy?" they said in unison.
"Oh, honestly. Did it cross your mind that perhaps it's just because I like him?" Ginny asked in exasperation.
"You like him? How can you like Malfoy? Isn't there some sort of law against that?" George asked. "He was a God-awful little monster in school."
"Well he's not anymore. Surprisingly enough, he's changed a fair bit in the twelve whole years since then," Ginny said.
"Still, Gin, you must have known it'd give Mum fits," George said reasonably. "I mean, honestly. Is it some sort of mid-life crisis, sort of thing? Misplaced rebellion you didn't get out of your system when you were sixteen?"
"No, it is not, and I resent that the only reason I would be dating Draco is because I'm trying to piss people off. Believe it or not, my mother's opinion on who I chose to spend time with is not high of my list of considerations when deciding who I will and will not date," Ginny said haughtily, looking down her nose at her brothers. "We met up and he was quite pleasant, and seemed to have changed and he invited me out and now we're dating. All perfectly reasonable."
Fred and George glanced at each other like they didn't quite believe this. "He's nice, is he? A reformed character? Given up on the whole Dark Arts, Death Eating thing?"
"Yes, he is, and yes he has and I'll thank you not to badmouth him in front of me," Ginny said indignantly.
"But Gin, he's not even cute!" Fred protested. "If you were going to pick a Death Eater to give Mum fits, couldn't you at least find an attractive one?"
Ginny's eyes flickered to Neville, who was suddenly rather red in the face. She looked back at Fred and blinked innocently. "I'm sorry...I'll do better next time."
"Next time..." George said in mock horror. "Next time it'll be - " he stopped. "You know, I can't think of anyone who'd be worse than Malfoy."
"Oh, knock it off." Ginny reached over Natalie and whacked George on the shoulder. "He's not all that bad, you know. And don't you have dishes to do, instead of harassing your little sister?"
"She's got a point," Angelina said. "C'mon, you. Get to work."
"Harassment? How is protecting our little sister's virtue harassment? I don't have to take this sort of abuse!" Fred protested, as Angelina pulled him to his feet and gave him a shove toward the sink. "Ange, cut that out."
"How about you start doing what you're supposed to be doing and leave Ginny alone?" Angelina asked, as she drew her wand and looked meaningfully at the sink. "Dishes. They won't do themselves."
Amidst much grumbling and prodding, the twins attacked the mountain of dishes in the sink, tossing plates and cups around the room with magic, while Angelina and Natalie made tea and tried to keep breakage to a minimum.
"Well," George finally said, whisking the last plate into a cupboard. "On the plus side, in ten years we can look back on this and laugh.. It'll give us a story to tell the grandkids. The Christmas Auntie Ginny Dated A Death Eater."
"He's not a Death Eater!" Ginny protested. "George -!"
"Say, if you include the bits about Harry and Neville, you could call the whole story Auntie Ginny Gets Around." Fred said, and made a frantic dash for the door to avoid the flurry of dishtowels and crockery aimed at his head.
~*~
Draco's plane was almost half an hour late, which was typical of trying to travel at Christmas. He sighed and waited as patiently as he could while the passengers were shunted through the security systems, collected their baggage, went through customs and through yet another security check, before making it to the doors leading out to the main terminal. He scanned the crowd waiting beyond the dividers and quickly spotted John, towering head and shoulders over most of the other people, long black hair in braids over his shoulders.
"Oki Ni-kso-ko-wa," John greeted him after Draco made his way through the crowds of travelers to the other man's side. "Long time no see, Ksik-kihk-ini. How was the flight?"
"Long, boring, and uncomfortable. And I'd seen the movie." Draco shifted his bag and gave John a one-armed hug. "How're you doing, big guy?"
"Good, good. Fending Annie off at the moment. She's called me 3 times on my cell, wondering where I am and why I'm not at the ranch yet. I had to turn it off. Mind if we drive straight down? I told her I'd be there by 10, and it's almost 1."
Draco stretched and nodded. "Sure, but only if we stop somewhere for food. I'm starving. Oh, and I have an errand to run before we leave town."
An hour later, they were on the highway headed south, Draco munching happily on McDonalds fries, the heater blasting. The radio in John's car was broken, so Draco amused himself by singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs all the way from Calgary to Cardston (where John had a fit and bought a portable stereo and batteries so he wouldn't have to listen to him anymore.) They pulled into Fort Macleod at five o'clock, and finally got to the ranch house at quarter to six. "Anne is gonna kill me," John said as he parked behind Jay's minivan and Keith's battered pickup and shut off the engine. "I was supposed to be here 8 hours ago."
"No she won't. I'll distract her," Draco grinned. "We'll bury her in presents and good cheer, she'll forget all about it."
"Not likely," John snorted as they trudged up the front porch stairs. The front door of the ranch house was unlocked and standing slightly ajar, so John pushed the door open. "Stay behind me," he said to Draco, who grinned and nodded.
Anne came around the corner from the kitchen as soon as John opened the door; she was a short, plain woman with light brown hair mostly gone to grey, done up in a bun to keep it off her face. "You!" she cried furiously, pointing one small hand at John. "You were supposed to have been here hours ago! I have been worried sick about you! Call if you are going to go traipsing about before you come down, so I don't wear myself to death wondering if you're dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Sorry, Anne," John said sheepishly. "But I had to stop and pick a few things up. You know, presents, buns, salad, Draco..."
On cue, Draco stepped out from behind John and grinned down at Anne. She gasped, torn between amusement and anger. "You...!" Laughter won out, and she stepped forward to give Draco a hug. "I thought you were staying in England!"
Draco smiled and hugged her back. "I lied," he said unrepentantly.
"I can see that, you brat. Did you two plan this?" she demanded. She kept one arm around Draco's waist, and poked John in the stomach with her other hand, glaring up at him.
"We may have," John admitted. "Merry Christmas."
"Well, you could have planned it better. You're still late, and don't think this lets you off the hook!" She jabbed him again. "C'mon in to the kitchen, that's where everyone is. Except Ed, he ran into town for ice."
John and Draco followed her through the living room and into the large kitchen, which full of people, both in the kitchen itself and the small den that led off the left side. A fire was roaring in the big fieldstone fireplace in the den, and the room was full of warmth and the smell of mincemeat pies and roast turkey. A chorus of voices greeted Draco's appearance, and he spent several minutes being hugged and clapped on the back by everyone. Keith and his wife Stacy had come up from their small house at the other end of the property, with their three children. Mark, who was a slight, painfully shy young man, had driven in from Fort Macleod, where he worked as a mechanic. Where Mark took after Keith and Jay were both the spitting image of Ed, tall and barrel-chested, although Jay had put on weight and didn't have the same weather-beaten look as his father and older brother. Jay was a production engineer for Shell Canada, and tried not to come home, or even go outside the city, if he could possibly avoid it.
Jay's wife, Rhonda, was standing in the archway to the den, wineglass in hand, looking bored and over-dressed in a tailored black suit. She was a tall, stick-thin blonde who worked as an executive assistant for the CEO of one of the larger oil companies in Calgary; she hated coming to the ranch, and didn't bother to hide it, turning her nose up at the food, at the house, at what the other women were wearing, at the quality of the wine. She was currently looking down her nose at Stacy, who was wearing an old plaid shirt and faded blue jeans, bustling around the kitchen helping Anne with the cooking. Rhonda sniffed and nodded slightly at Draco when he glanced at her; she loathed Draco with intensity, and he hated her right back.
John's friend Deloraine was there too, sitting at the kitchen table chopping carrots, her light auburn hair tucked behind her ears. "How did you get here?" John asked her, and she pointed her paring knife at Mark with a grin.
"I took the Greyhound down to Fort Macleod and made him pick me up," she said. "Hey, Dray, c'mere and tell me about England."
"You can ask him about his girlfriend," John grinned, slapping Draco on the shoulder.
"Ooooh! You have a girlfriend?" Del asked gleefully. "What's her name?"
Draco groaned and glared at John. "You're a big help, you know that?"
"I try."
Draco leaned over to steal a carrot slice from Del's pile of veggies. "Would it be futile to try and change the subject by asking what's for dinner?"
"Probably." Del pushed a chair out for him with her foot, and Draco flopped into it. "Wanna help me make salad?"
Keith leaned over and tapped John on the shoulder. "We're going to go take a look at the new horses. You comin?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly at both John and Draco. Draco shook his head, but John nodded and stood up.
"Sure," he said, following Keith out the back door to the covered porch. Jay and Mark followed them out, and Rhonda vanished off into the back of the house in a cloud of perfume.
Del raised her eyebrows at Draco. "You're not going?"
"Nah." Draco reached over and stole another carrot before Del could stop him. "Too bloody cold out. I'll just stay here, thank you."
"Trust him to stay where all the girls are," Stacy said over her shoulder, provoking a shout of laughter from Del.
"Hey, speaking of girls..." she began.
Draco stood up rapidly. "You know, maybe I will go out and see the horses - "
"Not so fast!" Anne reached over and tapped him on the shoulder with her wooden spoon, leaving a smear of flour on his shirt. Draco dusted at it, glaring at her. "Sit down, you, and tell us all about her."
Draco sighed and sank back down. "Damn."
"Curses, foiled again," Del said with a grin. "You're getting slow and feeble in your old age."
"Look who's talking. Least I don't have gray hair," Draco retorted.
Del let out an angry yell and tossed a carrot at him. "Bastard!" In truth, Del was two years younger than he was, although she did have gray hair. She had started going grey before she'd met John, in university, and Draco privately suspected that she'd been dying it so long she didn't remember what colour it really was. Del and John had been friends ever since they'd shared a class on the history of English civil law, in the summer of 1999, John for his law degree, and Del for her major in Medieval history. Draco had hated her with a passion when they first met, although his dislike had faded over the years; now she was like the obnoxious little sister Draco had never had.
Anne sighed. "Would you two cut that out? Del, stop teasing him. Dray, leave her alone. I swear, they never grow up," she said to Stacy. Draco obligingly moved his chair farther away from Del, and she went back to slicing her vegetables. "C'mon, honey, you were gonna tell us about your girlfriend."
"I was?" Draco said wryly.
"You sure were," Stacy said with a grin, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes with one damp hand.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Everything," Del said promptly. "What's she look like, is she nice, what does she do, where'd you meet her, is she good in bed..."
"Del!" Stacy straightened up from where she'd been rummaging in the fridge and glared at the other woman. "You can't ask him things like that!"
"Sure I can. I just did." Del paused thoughtfully. "Of course, I can't make you tell me, but I can ask."
"I hadn't planned to." Draco folded his arms and scowled at Del.
"That's alright, if you don't want Anne to know, you can just tell me later. So what's she like?" She slid the pile of sliced carrots into the bowl Anne handed to her, and passed it across the table to Draco, who took it and handed it to Stacy.
"She's tall, she's got red hair, she's divorced and has three children - do you mind?" he glared at Del, who was making retching noises. "Just because you don't like them, doesn't mean other people can't have them. I went to school with her, way back when. Met her in a supermarket last September, and we started seeing each other."
"Is she pretty?" Anne asked.
Draco chuckled. "Yes, she's pretty. Of course she's pretty."
Anne shrugged. "Thought I'd ask. You gonna marry her?"
"Anne!" he protested. "I've only been seeing her for 3 months. If that."
"So? That's enough time to know" Anne peered at him, and Draco coughed slightly and looked away. "Time you got married, anyway. You've been alone for far too long."
"Anne, don't," he said warningly.
"I mean it. You've moped around without ever having a serious relationship since Laura died. It's time and past time you got over her, found a nice girl and settled down." Anne reached over and patted his shoulder. "I don't like seeing you unhappy dear, and she's been gone for nearly ten years now. Not that it's any use talking to you about it," she said with a sigh as he stood up, scowling. "Sit back down."
"I don't want to talk about it," Draco said shortly.
"You never do," said Del in annoyance. "Anyone so much as mentions Laura's name and you're off like a shot. C'mon and sit down."
Draco folded his arms and glared at both Del and Anne. "I have had this conversation before, and I would really rather not have it again."
Anne matched him glare for glare. "I said sit. You haven't had this conversation with me yet, and if you think you are leaving this room before you do, you've got another thing coming." She waited until he sank back into his chair, looking mutinous. Stacy was standing in front of the oven, worriedly clutching a thermometer, and even Del was looking serious for once. Anne leaned casually against the back of one of the other chairs. "Now. Tell me about her. What was her name again?"
"Ginny," Draco said grouchily, poking at the tabletop. The problem with having people you considered family, he thought to himself, was that they always seemed to feel like they had the right to pry into things.
"And she's got three kids? Boys or girls?"
"One girl, two boys."
"How old are they?"
"Six, four and two."
Anne let out a low whistle. "How old is she?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Poor girl. And she's divorced?"
"Yes."
"You planning on giving me better than one word answers any time soon?"
"No."
Anne sighed. "Have I ever told you how incredibly frustrating you are?"
"Yes."
Anne sighed again and started to drum her fingers on the edge of the chair. Del had quietly gone back to making salad, having clearly decided to let Anne handle him. Draco scowled again. He hated being handled as much as he hated having his life pried into. And it was ten times worse when he knew they were doing it. Stacy and Del were working quietly, unwilling to interrupt, and Anne was just standing there, not doing anything, just...waiting. She could have given Voldemort tips on extracting information from people.
"It's not going to work," Draco finally said in irritation.
"What's that, dear?" Anne said idly, glancing at him. "Mind you watch how big you make those pieces of lettuce, dear," she said to Del.
He waved his hand at her. "What you're doing. Standing around and waiting for me to talk. It won't work."
"What makes you think that's what I'm doing?" Anne asked innocently.
"I am a trained police officer. I can recognize an interrogation technique when I see one."
Anne pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling. "Right. So, when do you go back to England?" she asked casually.
Draco groaned. "You're going to bug me about this all week, aren't you?"
Del grinned. "Better you than me," she said.
"Don't tell me you've found a boyfriend?" Draco looked over at Del, who cleared her throat and studiously avoided looking at him. "Have you?"
She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the men back from the barn. "Just in time to set the table," Stacy said happily, and sent them off to wash their hands.
Ed arrived back from the store, and the topic of conversation mercifully changed from Draco's love life to other things as they settled down to eat. After dinner was over and the dishes cleared away from the dining room table, everyone retired to the den for coffee and dessert. Draco was sitting on the edge of the couch, close to the kitchen door, with Del on the floor in front of him and John beside her, watching as the children played card games and the adults chattered. After an hour or so of watching Rhonda sneer and the brothers argue, Del leaned over and elbowed John in the ribs. "I'm gonna go crazy if I have to deal with this any longer. Let's go for a walk."
"Sure," John nodded and looked up inquiringly at Draco. "You coming?"
Draco winced as one of the children shrieked particularly loud. "Right behind you."
One by one, they slipped out to the kitchen and managed to make it out to the enclosed part of the back porch without being seen by Anne. They paused to bundle up against the cold, piling on sweaters and scarves against the chill. Once outside, the three of them made their way across the yard and through the gate in the back fence, following the path that lead into the small ravine where the creek flowed in summer, footsteps crunching on the faint dusting of snow. It was bone dry, and almost unbearably cold, and the air was like crystal, marred only by the ghostly clouds of their breath.
They walked in silence down the ravine, until it flattened out and snaked around one of the long foothills. The path bent and followed the creek, but the three of them veered off to climb to the top of the hill, the brittle grass snapping and rustling underfoot. An almost-full moon bathed the prairie in eerie blue light as it stretched out all around them. They stood in silence for a long time, the wind whispering through the grass the only sound.
"I forgot how cold it gets," Draco said finally, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
"It warmer in England?" Del asked, equally quiet.
"Yes. Damp, so it feels cold...but not this cold." He curled his fingers into his gloves and pulled his coat sleeves down over his hands. His hands were starting to go numb. "It's got to be minus 40 out here."
"It was chinooking just last week. We saved up the weather special, just for you." Del shuffled her feet in the grass and huffed against her hands. "We knew you was comin'"
"Figures."
"So how is England, anyway?" John asked.
"English," Draco snorted. "Same as always." He could feel Del and John exchanging glances behind his back
"So?" Del asked.
"So?" Draco repeated, sounding amused.
"So...what's the story behind your new girlfriend?" Del huffed again, her breath billowing in silvery clouds on the still air.
"You've already heard it all." Draco hid his smile and winked at John over Del's head. John grinned back; Draco had told him all about Ginny in the car on the way down.
"Oh, bullshit. There is more to the story than what you told Anne earlier." Del glared from one man to the other. "And if you two are pulling some guy thing and holding out on me there will be hell to pay in so many words. Don't try be all inscrutable with me, Dray. It's not mysterious, it's just annoying."
Draco laughed at that, and turned around in a circle, staring up at the stars. "I'm serious. There's nothing else to tell."
"She's just pretty and has kids? Does she have potential?"
"Potential?" Draco asked.
"You know, long term relationship potential. Or are you just stringing this pretty single mother along?" Del stamped her feet in the grass, blowing on her hands again.
Draco sighed. "No, I am not stringing her along...but as for potential, I don't know. It depends, I guess."
"On what?"
"On if he decides to stay in England and make the attempt, despite everything he'd have to face up to and doesn't want to, or if he decides to not bother and just moves back here after his case finishes up," John said quietly. "Or so I'd assume."
Draco shot him a wry grin and nodded faintly. Del raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Stay in England for this woman?"
Draco thought about it for a long, long moment. "I don't know. Maybe. I think...I just don't know yet."
They stood in silence, looking up at the stars. Finally, Draco shifted his feet and shivered. "We should head back, before we freeze out here."
He and Del turned to go but John held up a hand. "Wait," he said softly. "Listen."
They paused, looking out across the prairie. The first howl sounded from the south, so faint it was almost drowned out by the wind in the grass. The lonely sound was picked up, closer, then again from the southwest and west; wailing yips and cries echoing through the clear air in wave after wave, spreading from south to west to north until finally fading back into stillness.
"I'taamomahkat Oyiiksistsikomi," John whispered softly, after the last echoes had died. "Merry Christmas."
They turned and walked silently back to the house.
~*~
NB: A Chinook is a warm, dry wind that descends from the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains and flows across the prairie, causing a rapid rise in temperature, and usually resulting in snowmelt, lots of slush, terrible roads, and migraines for the lucky few from the pressure changes. 'Chinooking' is a local term used to describe the weather when a Chinook is occurring (as in "I've got a splitting headache; it must be chinooking"). They occur frequently throughout the winter in Southern Alberta.
The language being spoken by John is Blackfoot, and a rough translation of the phrases follows. (But don't expect a pronunciation guide, because I have no idea!):
Ksik-kihk-ini - bald eagle (literally, white head, which is why John calls Draco this)
Oki Ni-kso-ko-wa - Hello, my relative
I'taamomahkat Oyiiksistsikomi - Merry Christmas (literally, happy big holy day)
I made use of The Blackfoot Dictionary of Stems, Roots, and Affixes by D. G. Frantz and N. J. Russell (University of Toronto Press, 1989, ISBN 0-8020-2691-5), and some Blackfoot phrases can be found online at http://www.blackfootelders.com Any mistakes in spelling, grammar and syntax are my own.
"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives."
- C.S. Lewis
~*~
He was running late, again.
Draco took the Library steps two at a time, sliding neatly around the gaggle of teenage witches hovering near the doors, and stepped inside. He paused in the foyer to catch his breath, dust the snowflakes off the shoulders of his jacket and run a quick hand through his hair. He had foregone his normal suit and neat ponytail in favour of jeans and a heavy sweater under a leather winter jacket; he was well aware that he didn't exactly blend in with the crowds of wizards in woolen robes and winter-weight cloaks, but didn't much care. Draco strode past Ms. Phillips at her desk and up the long aisle to the staircase. Dumbledore winked at him as he went past, and Draco couldn't help but smile slightly at the twinkle in the old man's painted eye. He paused at the top of the stairs and glanced around the mezzanine, searching for a telltale flash of red hair. He finally spotted it, tucked in a corner near the back.
He smiled again, and headed toward the table Ginny had taken over. She was wearing deep blue robes today, with trim black pants underneath. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, and shone in the light from the windows above like fire as she bent over the table, writing furiously. She paused occasionally to chew on the end of her quill, tilting her head and furrowing her forehead in concentration in a way that Draco privately thought was adorable. He stopped directly behind her and slid his hands up her arms and over her shoulders, letting her curls slide over his fingers like silk.
"Hello," he murmured, lowering his head so that his lips were inches from her ear. Ginny jumped slightly, then turned her head toward him and rested her cheek against his.
"Hello," she whispered back. She pulled her head back far enough so she could look into his eyes. "You're late."
Draco looked sheepish. "I know, sorry." He straightened up and sank into the chair beside her, capturing her left hand and twining his fingers with hers. "Got caught in traffic, and it took me longer to get here than I thought it would."
"Excuses, excuses," Ginny grinned. "Actually, it's alright. To be honest, I got caught up and didn't notice."
Draco eyed the piles of books and paper with interest. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"Research. I'm working on a story for Witch Weekly, and this - " she waved her free hand at the mess on the table " - is background material."
"What's the story on?" he asked, tilting one of the books toward him.
"Recent advances in medical magic. Did you know, they're beginning to do research on curing things like leukemia and blood-transmitted viruses with magic? There's a huge debate going on right now over whether wizards have the moral obligation to share our advances with Muggles if anything comes of the research being done now."
Draco nodded. "Interesting."
Ginny shot him a sidelong glance and freed her hand so that she could gather up her papers. "Yes, you sound interested," she said wryly.
"Well, I'm a cop. I only arrest people, I don't heal them."
"It falls into the realm of public service, doesn't it? As a policeman or a doctor, you're still doing good for your community. All the same sort of thing."
Draco snorted. "More or less. Bit less than more, lately."
"Work trouble?"
"Work frustration. It's horribly disconcerting to know I'm being constantly outsmarted by a couple of teenage thugs."
"What are they doing, anyway?" Ginny asked with curiosity. She began busily packing her books and papers into her shoulder bag (It seemed to have the same charm on it as the backpack she took grocery shopping, because she was fitting an alarming amount of paper in it and it didn't seem to be getting any fuller). "You keep saying you're following people, but not why."
"There's two of them, and they're robbing banks."
"What?" Ginny stopped to gape at Draco. "You can't rob Gringott's! It's not possible!"
"Not wizard banks, Muggle banks," Draco said. "It'd make my life much easier if they did take a crack at Gringott's. No, these boys know their limits and are sticking to people who can't fight back. They go in, use Imperious and an amusing array of other Dark spells on the tellers, steal the money, Memory Charm anyone within reach and leave. Use magic to take out the security cameras, disarm electrical security systems, make bank guards look the other way, leave no fingerprints, no magical traces, no real patterns...I don't even know what the one looks like. All we've got so far is a small pendant with a charm on it we can't identify. They're actually rather clever about it. I'm honestly surprised no one's thought of it before." Draco looked at Ginny seriously. "And you don't know any of this, by the way. I'm only telling you because I doubt you'll try to use any of their ideas."
"Good to know you trust me," Ginny said with asperity. "Next time I rob a bank, I'll be sure not to mention your name."
"See that you don't, you'll ruin my reputation," Draco smirked. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, gathering up her cloak, which had been draped over one of the chairs.
"Well, I'd hate to do that, but if you're still willing to be seen with me, I'll let you take me for lunch." She smiled up at him and he grinned back and reached out to brush a stray curl off her cheek.
"I would be delighted," Draco said softly. Then he cleared his throat and looked around. "But not around here, if you don't mind."
"Oh! Oh, of course not," Ginny said quickly. She turned to make her way to the stair, talking over her shoulder. "I even wore something I could get away with wearing in Muggle London, because I thought that would be where we'd go." She twirled around on the landing, showing off her robes, which were cut like a duster, split up the front to her hips, then buttoned up to her throat with a mandarin collar. "It's not quite robes, and not quite a dress, so I thought it'd do for either."
Draco made a show of leaning back and sizing her up. "I suppose it'll do," he said dubiously, and she hit him lightly on the arm. "Ow!" Draco laughed as he backed out of range. "If you hit me, I won't take you anywhere."
Ginny laughed and winked at him. "Just trying to keep you in line," she said. Draco made innocent noises as he followed Ginny the rest of the way down the stairs and out to the front door of the library.
They made their way up to the Leaky Cauldron and out to Charing Cross Road. Draco paused, looking up the street. "Well, we could go find my car and drive, or just walk and see if we find an interesting place to eat."
"Let's walk. It's not too cold to be outside, and I've been stuck in the Library all morning," Ginny said. "We can be leisurely and stroll around and look at Christmas decorations. Or do you have to be somewhere this afternoon?"
"Not really. Neville said he'd call me if he heard anything interesting, but he's got other things to work on this afternoon, so I'm pretty much free," Draco replied. He took her hand as they started walking up the road, stopping occasionally to admire the decorations in the store windows.
"I love Christmas," Ginny sighed happily. "It's so cozy. All trees and presents and Christmas carols and spending time with family... Oh, and speaking of family, I meant to ask you what you were doing for the holidays." She looked up at Draco anxiously. "Because if you're not going anywhere, you're welcome to come to my parents' for dinner. They wouldn't mind...we're all always bringing people over; Neville's coming this year, and they'd be happy to have you."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Of course," Ginny replied. "It's Christmas, they wouldn't mind at all. And Harry wouldn't be there, if that's what you're worried about. He spends Christmas Eve with Sirius."
Ah," Draco said. "Well, thank you, but actually, I'm going home for Christmas."
"Home?" Ginny looked at him inquiringly.
"To Calgary. Well, Fort Macleod, actually."
"Oh." Ginny walked along thoughtfully for a minute. "Where's-"
Draco laughed. "Southern Alberta, about 3 hours south of Calgary. I really am going to buy you an atlas for Christmas."
"Actually, I'd prefer a new cloak, if you don't mind. Mine's getting rather ragged, you know." Ginny grinned at him, winking to let him know she was teasing.
"I'll bear that in mind. But yes, I am going back to Alberta for the holidays. Not long though, just for a few days."
"Ah." Ginny nodded, then said nothing, scuffing her feet on the sidewalk as they strolled. She was biting at her bottom lip, as if she were thinking about something very hard.
Draco squeezed her hand. "You want to ask me something, don't you?" he asked gently.
Ginny blushed. "No...it's just a bit strange to think of you having a home anywhere but here. You never seem to talk about it."
"It never occurs to me to bring it up, actually." Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "I know everyone, and what they're like, and just between you and me, they're really rather boring." He smiled slightly.
"'They'?" Ginny asked interestedly, then stopped awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."
"I don't mind, really," Draco said. "Half the time it never even occurs to me to mention things. And I feel sort of silly, talking about my life now. Not talking about home, exactly, just having to explain what it means to me. I can never think of a way to without having it sound...trite. You know, 'this is the family I've chosen' and all that greeting-card sap. Hate that."
Ginny laughed. "That doesn't mean you can't tell me about them. I promise not to think of you in rhyming couplets or two line platitudes."
Draco smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, I think. You really want to know?"
His smile deepened as Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "All right." He frowned thoughtfully. "It's a long story, though."
Ginny laughed. "We do have time."
"All right then." He paused consideringly. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. I ended up in Toronto in June of '98, and started making my way west for lack of anything better to do. I ran out of money in Winnipeg, and was hitchhiking and sort of scraping by, still heading more or less west, more because it seemed like the thing to do than out of any desire to see the West Coast. At the time, I knew about as much about Canadian geography as you do." He smiled and tugged at her hand.
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll petition to have them add it to the Hogwarts curriculum," she said.
"Hey, it would have been useful to me. Anyway, there's not much there but grass and more grass, it sort of feels like you have to keep moving just to be doing something. So I kept hitching west, spent a little while in Swift Current - which is in Saskatchewan - but not long. By October, I'd made it as far as Lethbridge, which is also in Southern Alberta, before you ask, and a man named Ed MacDouglas stopped and picked me up on the highway. He offered to take me as far as Fort Macleod, and I fell asleep in his truck, to my everlasting shame. It was freezing out, and he didn't want to dump me in town in the cold in the middle of the night, so he took me to his house instead. He and his wife Anne have a ranch southwest of town, and they let me stay with them for a while. They have three sons, and they used to be foster parents."
He stopped at Ginny's confused look. "It's a Muggle thing. They take in children whose own families can't or won't care for them, and the government pays them money for doing it. Anyway, they have 3 sons of their own, although by that time, Keith had moved into his own house, and Jay had moved to Calgary, so only Mark was still at home, and 2 or 3 official foster kids still around when I met them, and probably 2 or 3 kids, like me, who were there just because we didn't have any place else to go. 'Strays', Anne used to call us. It was usually a pretty crowded place. So I stayed there for a while, helped out on the ranch for the first few months, learned that I will never, ever be a cowboy, no matter how hard I try - " Draco stopped walking as Ginny burst out laughing. "What? It's true, I won't."
"I'm just trying to picture you as a cowboy," she said between giggles.
Draco tugged at her hand again. "It's not that funny," he grumbled. "And it was only because I'm not actually all that good with farm animals that I am a cop and not a ranch hand," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster with Ginny hanging off his hand and tittering. "Stop that. Do you want to hear this or not?"
"I'm sorry, carry on," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. "Though I think you'd look quite dashing in a cowboy hat."
"I'm sure I have a picture somewhere," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "If it amuses you so much, I'll find one and give it to you. Anyway..." He glared at Ginny, who had started giggling again. "While I was there, I met John, who was one of the official foster kids...one of their first, in fact. He's a lawyer now, though he was still in university at the time, and we became quite good friends. I moved to Calgary with him the year after I arrived there, when I finally admitted that my career as a ranch-hand was doomed to be a short one." He stopped to scowl at Ginny again, who was trying to muffle her snickering. "If you don't stop, I won't tell you the rest."
"Sorry, sorry." Ginny took several deep breaths and managed to get her laughter under control. "Go on."
"Now I can't remember what I was going to say," Draco grumbled.
"Something about John," Ginny reminded him. "See? I'm paying attention."
"Right. John." He paused again, collecting his thoughts, then continued. "John is directly responsible for changing a lot of the things I thought about the world. He's a big guy, and he's native, so people tend to see him and think, "big dumb Indian", and assume he's not too bright. Usually to their detriment, because he is the smartest person I have ever met," Draco said with a laugh. "He taught me a great deal about the dangers of stereotyping. Not overnight, mind you. He likes to remind me constantly that I was rather insufferable when I first arrived in Canada." He laughed softly. "If I am a changed man, it's largely his doing. He's a good person. And patient. And bigger than me...he used to take great pleasure in pounding on me if he thought I was being a git. If someone who is six feet six and weighs 250 pounds takes exception to your behaviour...well, I learned fast."
Ginny had to laugh at that. "He sounds like a nice guy. Is he the one who - "
"Wanted me to join the RCMP, yes. Against Anne's wishes; she didn't want me to. But I did anyway, in the spring of 2000, and got transferred back to Calgary after I did my training. John and I actually own a house together, and he has threatened me with dire consequences if I don't go back for Christmas. I'm his surprise for Anne; we've been telling her I was staying here so that we could surprise the hell out of her when I get there."
"You own a house?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed.
Draco nodded. "I do. Not a big house, mind you, just a little one. It's basically a little box." Draco gestured a square with one hand. "It's got two small bedrooms upstairs, and a little living room and a tiny kitchen, and we developed the basement, so there's another bedroom down there, and a sort of den. All told, it's probably smaller than your apartment. Big yard though."
"Oh," Ginny said softly. Draco glanced at her; she looked pensive and vaguely worried. He stopped suddenly and turned to her, holding onto her hand so that she spun to face him. Ginny gasped in astonishment as he pulled her against his chest. "What?" she said uncertainly.
"I'll show it to you someday, if you want," Draco said softly, smiling down at her.
"I'd like that," Ginny smiled. "So have you given any thought to what you'll do when you finish your case?"
Draco sighed. "If we finish it...I have the sinking feeling that the only way we're going to catch them is if they screw up. As it is, I've done one or two things for Scotland Yard , and I'm helping Neville with a few other things here and there. Nothing much, but it's work. Gives me something to do while we wait. His boss is a bit overbearing, I must say."
Ginny had sat through Neville's ranting more than once, when Cecil Dobbins was being particularly demanding, and she grinned at Draco's understatement. "He's a good Auror, though."
"Who, Neville, or Cecil?"
"Cecil."
"Yes. Loud, but good. Smart man," Draco nodded.
"Have you decided what you'll do, though? After you finish?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Not really. Cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose. Neville keeps reminding me that Cecil would love to offer me a job, but I do already have one."
"I expect you've got lots of reasons to stay in Canada," Ginny said quietly. "It sounds like you're quite happy there."
"There are reasons to stay here, too," he said softly, and leaned sideways to brush his lips against her forehead. Then he stopped, wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her up a few inches, so that she was at eye level, then spun her in a small circle. Ginny shrieked and clutched at his shoulders, laughing. "What are you doing?"
Draco stopped, but didn't put her down. "Nothing," he said, still smiling, and kissed her.
She tangled her hands in his hair and melted against him, smiling against his mouth. They stayed there, in the middle of the sidewalk kissing, until a group of teenage boys strode past and around them, hooting and yelling, "Get a room!". Draco set Ginny back on her feet as they broke apart, laughing. Ginny slipped her arm around his waist and leaned against his side as they started walking again.
They were halfway to Trafalger before they found a quiet restaurant to have lunch in.They spent a leisurely hour over sandwiches and tea before wandering back up the other side of the street toward the Leaky Cauldron. They stopped on the street corner before the entrance to the pub, and Draco took Ginny's hands in his. "Will I see you before Christmas?" Draco asked.
Ginny frowned. "I'm not sure. I've got the article to finish, and Mum can't take the kids again before Christmas, so all my free time will be spent watching them. We can try, though. Weekend after next is Harry's so I'll be child-free for a bit."
"All right. I'll call you, then. Have a good day." He smiled down at her then leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye," she whispered back, and dropped his hands reluctantly before turning to go into the Cauldron and back to the Library.
~*~
Christmas Eve, 2010
Neville arrived at Ginny's flat around mid-afternoon and let himself in. "Hullo," he called, walking into the kitchen. William was sitting on the kitchen floor, amusing himself by banging a wooden spoon against the linoleum.
"Have you talked to Draco?" Neville asked as Ginny rushed past him.
"Not since the beginning of the month...he's been busy and I was swamped with research, and Harry decided to leave the kids with me on his weekend again, and it's just been too crazy," she called over her shoulder. "And he left for Canada this morning. Be a dear and grab Willie for me, can you?"
Neville obliged, wandering further into the kitchen and scooping up William. "What time are we supposed to be at your parents?"
Ginny appeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen, Jamie in tow. "Sometime in the afternoon, was all Mum said. Once I get the monsters organized, we can go." She rushed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a large casserole dish. "Will you carry this for me? I'll take William."
They switched, Ginny collected Sarah and Jamie, and soon they spilled into the living room of the Burrow in a shower of ash and soot. Ginny dusted Sarah and Jamie off and sent them in search of their myriad cousins, and held desperately on to William as he tried to make an escape for the floor. "Willie, stop that, I'll put you down in a minute. Neville, get the door?"
Neville rushed to open the door to the hall, juggling Ginny's casserole in one hand while she wrestled with Willie. Finally she gave up and set him on the ground, where he immediately made a beeline for the staircase. Ginny sighed and started after him. "Willie, get back here! God help us all when he's old enough to fly."
George's wife Natalie, a tiny, sweet-faced woman who had been two years behind Ginny in Gryffindor, appeared in the hall and scooped William up before he could make it to the stairs. "Hullo, Ginny, Neville! I'm just helping Angelina tidy some things...the boys are all in the kitchen. Want me to keep an eye on Wills here?"
"If you could, Nat, that would be darling, thanks. I'll come collect him once we get everything away." Ginny waved gratefully as Natalie disappeared with William, then led Neville the other way down the hall to the kitchen.
The small kitchen hadn't got noticeably bigger over the years; it was still too small to fit more than 8 people comfortably at the table, so most family dinners (with all the Weasleys, wives, children, friends and various other visitors) were usually a communal affair, with people helping themselves to food and finding a perch wherever they could in the living room to eat. At Hermione's suggestion, dinner had also become a sort of potluck as well, so that Molly and Arthur wouldn't bear sole expense for the feeding of anywhere from 16 to 30 mouths. The scrubbed wooden table that dominated the low room currently held Fred and George at chairs, and Charlie propped against one end and chatting with the twins. They all looked up and greeted Ginny and Neville as they came in.
"Where is everyone?" Ginny asked, setting the casserole dish down on the counter.
"Two of your monsters just made a mad dash through here to the outdoors, Percy's out there too, being Percy-ish at the rest of the ankle-biters, and Mum is rummaging in the attic looking for Dad's old boots," Charlie told her. "Dad's still at work, Angelina and Natalie are off doing some sort of cleaning thing for Mum, and I haven't the foggiest where Penelope's gone off to. Probably outside trying to stop Percy from spoiling all the fun. Ron and Hermione and the young twins are spending tonight with Harry and Sirius and Remus over at Sirius' place, so they won't be here."
"Ah," Ginny said. She eyed her casserole dish. "I guess I didn't need to make quite so much, then."
George craned his neck. "Is that your bean casserole? If it is, don't worry, it'll get eaten."
Ginny beamed at him. "Well, thank you. Always nice to see my cooking is appreciated."
Fred gasped at his twin. "Dammit, George, now she's gonna expect us to actually eat the stuff! Good going!"
"Fred!" Ginny brandished her fist at him. "You're such a git."
He snickered and hid behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. "No attacking the man with the news! You'll wreck the paper and I'm not done reading it."
"Reading the comics section that is," Charlie said. "Never let it be said that news is your first priority."
"Hah! I am too reading the news!" Fred flipped the paper around so he could scan the front page. "I'm reading it right now, see? Well, would you look at this," Fred said suddenly. He cleared his throat and read: "From Riches to More Riches: Malfoy Manor is Up For Sale."
"What's that?" George asked. He and Charlie moved closer to Fred to see what he was reading. Ginny looked inquiringly at Neville, who shook his head in bewilderment.
"That's the headline," Fred replied, showing the paper to his brothers. "See?"
"I thought all the Malfoys were dead," Charlie said, craning his neck to read over Fred's shoulder.
"I thought they were too." Fred scanned the page again. "It just says here that the lawyers aren't commenting except to say that it's for sale. Maybe they got sick of having to keep it up, decided to liquidate it. Must be easier just to look after money than look after property."
"All the Malfoys aren't dead," George interjected. "Natalie said she was talking to Katie last week, and Katie says that Draco Malfoy is in the Ministry all the time. She says he works there."
"Draco Malfoy? Wasn't he the scrawny little git who hated Harry's guts at Hogwarts? Pale, washed out little bigot with the nasty attitude?" Fred asked.
"That was him...I thought he died after the war, though. Oi, Neville! You work with Katie, don't you? Have you seen Draco 'round the Ministry?" George looked over Fred's shoulder at Neville, who gulped and shot an agonized glance at Ginny. She was glaring at him and trying to shake her head 'no' without looking like she was doing it.
"I - "
"Here, Fred, let us have a read." Charlie interrupted, as he reached over and tried to wrestle the paper from Fred's grip. Fred yelled, distracted.
"Piss off and find your own paper, or wait 'til I'm done," Fred said belligerently, trying to duck away from Charlie and from George, who was leaning over the other side of his chair. Neville shifted closer to Ginny and watched the ensuing scuffle as George and Charlie jumped on top of Fred.
"Argh! Get away!" Fred batted at his brothers furiously. "I had it first!"
"Read it aloud, then!" George gave Fred's throat an extra squeeze before unwrapping his arm from around his brother's neck. He stepped away and sat down in the chair next to his twin, tapping his foot impatiently.
"I would if you'd bloody leave me alone." Fred glared at Charlie until he went and sat down beside George, then straightened the paper out and cleared his throat. "Right, then. 'Malfoy Manor was listed for sale by the law firm responsible for handling the Malfoy estate, this reporter learned yesterday.' Who's this reporter? Oh...Colin Creevey." Fred looked up at Ginny. "Wasn't Colin Creevey the little runtling in your year who worshipped the ground Harry walked on?
"Yes," Ginny said shortly. "You going to read that thing or not?"
"I'm reading, I'm reading. 'The Gringott's representative for the Malfoy estate refused to comment, except to say that the home was determined to be unsuitable for the current owner, and that the decision was made to open the house for sale to interested persons. The Manor, long the ancestral home of the Malfoy family, has lain vacant for the last twelve years. After the end of the war, it was thoroughly examined and cleansed of magic by the Ministry. Malfoy Manor is unplottable but is rumoured to be set on a sizeable portion of land in the country near Bristol. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy fought for Voldemort in the war, and both were killed in The Battle of Hogwarts.' Best thing Harry ever did, next to offing Voldemort, was killing that bastard," Fred interjected, smiling fondly. "Anyway. 'Their son, Draco was seen on the field at the Battle but vanished soon afterwards and has not been seen nor heard of since, although rumours have come to light that he has recently been spotted at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the younger Malfoy was recently cleared of involvement in the Dark Arts by the Ministry of Magic, the long history tying the Malfoy name to the practice of Dark Magic cannot be ignored.' And there's another article about Lucius and Narcissa, and a big picture of the house, and another couple of the Malfoys. Cor, but Draco's an ugly little bugger."
Neville made a choked sound and covered his mouth with his hand. Ginny smacked him on the shoulder and hissed at him to shut up as Fred leaned over and showed the pictures to Charlie, who winced exaggeratedly and nodded. The picture of Draco was from the start of his seventh year, and he did rather resemble a half-starved rat, scowling ferociously at the camera.
"What a gossip rag," George said disgustedly. "Look, the whole front page is covered with stories about them. Trash like that on the front page at Christmas time. Who wants to read about dead Death Eaters at a time like this?"
"Nothing like a little human interest story for the holidays." Fred grinned. "Warms the cockles of your heart to know that no matter how bad your Christmas seems, it could always be worse. Could be spending it with someone who looks like that." He tapped the photo of Draco, which snarled at him.
It was Ginny's turn to be suddenly overcome with a violent coughing fit. "I think I need some air," she gasped, and fled for the back porch, Neville on her heels. Charlie and the twins watched them go bemusedly.
Ginny collapsed on the small bench outside the back door, hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Neville sat beside her and watched as she giggled, gasping for breath. "Did you know he was selling the Manor?" he asked once she'd got control of herself.
"No...he didn't mention it. Did he tell you?" Ginny wiped at her eyes and glanced inquiringly at Neville.
"No, but then, he wouldn't. I didn't even know he'd stopped going out to Bath." Neville sighed and leaned back on the bench, watching the children tearing around in the garden. There were currently 11 children outside, George and Natalie's daughter, Marjorie and Ginny's William being the sole exceptions; at 3 and 2 respectively, they were really too young to be out in the cold for too long. The children appeared to be gnome-hunting under Percy's supervision, although Neville privately thought that any gnome with sense would have fled from the unstoppable horde of Weasley grandchildren long ago. He watched as Calliope, Fred and Angelina's oldest, scooped up a handful of slushy snow, lobbed it at Percy's head and then fled to join her younger brothers, Timothy and Zachary, behind the old chicken coop. She had her mother's aim; the snowball hit Percy squarely on the back of the head, and he whipped around with a yell, slush dripping off his hair.
"I didn't even know he was staying there in the first place," Ginny said, wiping at her eyes. She glanced at the yard, where Percy had spun around again as Jamie popped up from the other side of the yard and clipped Percy's arm with another slush-ball. "Oh, for - kids!" She stood up suddenly and pulled out her wand, sending a shower of heated sparks toward the third airborne snowball, launched by Timothy this time. It melted in mid-air before it could hit Percy, much to the children's disappointment. "You know what will happen to you if you go dragging muck all over the house! No snowball fights!"
A chorus of groans rose from the yard, even, Neville was amused to notice, from Percy's own children. Apparently picking on their dad was something of a past-time. Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Not that yelling at them is going to help. Pity the poor teachers, when the rest of them are old enough for Hogwarts."
"Who's there now?" Neville asked idly.
"Pelagia and Calliope; Calliope is in Gryffindor, of course, and Pelagia is in Ravenclaw, which is no surprise. She's the spitting image of Penelope. Pembroke starts next year, and he will also be in Ravenclaw, no question. All he ever does is read." She leaned back and sighed. "None of which has anything to do with our conversation. I wonder why he didn't tell anyone he was selling the Manor."
Neville shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want anyone to know. He's like that."
Ginny made a faint disgruntled noise. "I wish he weren't so secretive. Why do I always go for the men who don't talk? Do I have a hidden complex for emotionally unavailable men? Some sort of strong, silent type thing?"
"I talk to you," Neville protested.
"You don't count, we're not dating. And as I recall, not long after we did date, you decided that you were gay."
"You spoiled me for other women." Neville grinned cheekily. "And maybe our Hogwarts romance worked the same way for you, ruined you for anyone else. One dose of the Longbottom mojo and you're spoilt for life."
Ginny sputtered, but Molly appeared on the front step before she could formulate a reply. "Children! Inside, please, dinner is almost ready!" She bustled over to give Neville and Ginny quick hugs. "Didn't see you two come in. Come get washed up!"
"Longbottom mojo?" Ginny hissed at him. "Please!" Neville grinned evilly at her and followed Molly inside to help with dinner, while Ginny went to help a rather relieved looking Percy herd the grandchildren into the house to be washed.
~*~
After supper had been finished and the dishes piled in the sink to be magicked clean later, everyone crowded into the living room, grabbing seats wherever they could. Charlie staked out his portion of the floor, then took the opportunity to head out to the kitchen for refills, collecting glasses from Neville and Angelina on his way by.
"Alright, children...pick your presents," Arthur said, standing by the Christmas tree. Every Christmas Eve, everyone was allowed one present to open in front of Molly and Arthur. The main present-opening would happen at each of their homes on Christmas morning, but Molly didn't want to be deprived of the excitement of watching the children tear into wrapping paper. A small pile of presents appeared by Arthur's chair, and he smiled at his impatiently bouncing grandchildren. "Who wants to go first?"
A chorus of "me, me, me!" was interrupted by Charlie. "Ginny can," he said, coming out from the kitchen holding a paper-wrapped package. "The biggest owl I've ever seen just left this on the porch. Got your name on it."
"Really?" Ginny said in surprise. "How odd. I wasn't expecting anything." Charlie leaned across Fred's lap to hand it to her, and the family watched with interest (and varying degrees of disgruntlement amongst the children) as she unwrapped it carefully. Underneath the brown paper was a package wrapped in gold, tied with a thin silver ribbon. Ginny slowly removed the paper to reveal a box containing a long blue cloak and a large book. The cloak slipped slightly, and Ginny made a grab for it, the soft material sliding across her lap.
"Oh!" Natalie gasped. "Oh, it's beautiful!" She caught a corner of the cloak and held it out. The material was a deep rich blue, made of a soft, felt-like fibre that was smooth and warm to the touch and shone faintly in the glow of the lamps. Ginny stood up to shake out the full length and drape it over her shoulders. It fell to her ankles in shimmering folds, and the hood was lined with soft fur.
Ginny stepped to the centre of the room and spun around, to appreciative murmurs from everyone else. "It's gorgeous!"
"What is that fabric?" asked Angelina, leaning forward to feel the edge of the cloak. Ginny unclasped it and looked at the tag.
"It says it's a blend of alpaca, silk and wool, specially charmed to repel water and store heat. There's a warming charm in the hood, too, I can feel it." She swung it back over her shoulders. "It's lined with silk, I think. Oh, and there's pockets on the inside!"
Natalie sighed jealously. "That must have cost a fortune...who's it from?"
Ginny froze suddenly. "It's...um." She stopped and flushed as Natalie and Angelina watched her with interest. She glanced nervously at Neville, who blinked and shrugged at her. "I - "
"What's the book, Gin?" Fred interrupted loudly. "And who the heck is sending you books anyway? That's more a 'Mione thing, isn't it?"
"Oh, I forgot." Ginny shrugged the cloak off carefully and sat back down, pulling the book from beside the couch cushion, where it had slipped. It was a large book, and heavy, bound in brown leather. She read the cover quickly, then started laughing. "Oh, my God he actually did!"
"What is it?" The whole family was craning their heads, trying to read the cover of the book. Ginny held it up so that they could read the gold embossed lettering, which read Atlas of Canada in curly letters. Neville started laughing uproariously as the rest of the family looked bewildered.
Charlie blinked. "Somebody sent you an atlas of Canada?"
"Is it some sort of joke?" asked George.
"Why is this funny?" Fred demanded of Neville. "I don't get it."
Ginny wiped at her eyes. "He was threatening to get me one, and he really did! I don't believe it!"
"Who?" came a chorus of voices.
Ginny took a deep breath and tried to stop giggling. She glanced up and flushed. "Um...the person I'm seeing."
There was a beat of dead silence before the room exploded with voices.
"What?"
"You're seeing someone?"
"Who?"
"Is he rich?"
"How long has this been going on?"
"Who?"
"Is he Canadian?"
"Who is it?"
Ginny waved her hands, trying to fend off the questions. "One at a time! One at a time! Mum..."
"Now, now, calm down," Molly said, taking charge. She waited until everyone had more or less quieted down before rounding on her daughter angrily. "You're seeing someone?"
"Yes," Ginny said meekly.
"Who?"
Ginny held the book in front of her protectively and said, very quietly, "Draco Malfoy."
There was another absolute silence, then Percy cleared his throat and blinked owlishly. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I could have sworn you just said you were seeing Draco Malfoy."
"That's what I did say," Ginny replied defensively. "We've been dating for two months or so."
There was another moment of shocked silence before the room was engulfed in a flurry of angry voices. It was difficult to make out anything distinct in the roars of outrage; Molly was shaking her finger at her daughter, the twins were on their feet, Arthur was trying to speak over Molly about the dangers of Malfoys in general, and Percy was in full lecture-mode, while the children looked on with interest and Charlie rolled his eyes. Even Angelina and Natalie were talking loudly. Ginny sat rigidly, her book clutched to her chest and waited, her lips pressed tightly together.
"OI!" Neville stood up from his seat on the end of the couch and roared at the top of his lungs, startling everyone into silence. "Leave Ginny alone!" He glared at the collection of Weasleys and extended family, most of whom were red in the face from yelling.
There was a small pause while the adults got over the shock of seeing quiet, retiring Neville shout at them. Then Molly sank back in her chair and moaned. "My only daughter, consorting with a Death Eater!" She sat up straight and glared at Ginny. "Ginny, how could you? What did I do wrong? How can I show my face in Diagon Alley ever again? My own flesh and blood! I can't believe -"
"Now look, Mrs. Weasley, he's not a Death Eater," Neville interrupted firmly. "He's working with me on a case. He's been cleared by the Ministry and he's helping the Department now, which they wouldn't have let him do if they suspected he was a Death Eater. You know that." He looked at Arthur for confirmation, who nodded reluctantly.
"That's true, dear, very particular, are those Aurors. Wouldn't let him in if there were the slightest doubt," Arthur conceded. He still didn't look happy, but he nodded at Neville. "If the Department is willing to let him work for them, he can't be a Death Eater. They're very careful nowadays."
"That's not the point!" Molly wailed. "He's a Malfoy! They're all rotten, the lot of them-"
"Now, Molly, dear, be reasonable - " Arthur attempted, although from the occasional glance he was giving Ginny, he didn't look as though he really wanted to be reasonable himself.
" - probably out casting Dark spells right now in that awful house - "
"Well, you know that's not true, right? He's selling the house," Charlie interrupted cheerfully.
"And anyway, he's gone to Canada for the holidays," said Ginny sharply. "Honestly, Mother, I'm not marrying him, we're just dating."
Molly sat up sharply. "And Harry! What does Harry think of this whole thing, the poor boy? Have you thought of that?"
Nine heads swiveled between Ginny, who had gone white, and Molly as though watching a tennis match. Charlie groaned softly. Ginny sat up a bit straighter and glared at her mother. "Harry does not have a say in the matter," she said stiffly. "And I don't much care what he thinks."
"Well and that's quite obvious, now, isn't it?" Molly shot back.
Ginny gritted her teeth. "We are not having this argument again, Mother."
"All I'm saying is that - "
"Now, Mum, let's not go into this again, please?" George said, leaning forward on his elbows so that he was blocking Ginny partially from Molly's sight. "It's Christmas, aye? We don't need to cover this again. Angie, toss us another present."
Angelina complied, grabbing the closest one she could find and tossing it at George, who read the tag and lobbed it at Percy, hitting him on the forehead and knocking his glasses askew. "Open that up, eh, Perce?"
Percy glared and grumbled, but complied, revealing one of Molly's now-famous jumpers. Arthur caught on and passed a present to Perpetua, Percy and Penelope's youngest daughter, effectively reigniting the present-frenzy among the children. Once Molly had been sufficiently distracted, Ginny rose quietly and escaped to the kitchen, closely followed by Natalie and Neville. Ginny sank into a chair and folded her arms on the table, burying her head in them. "Why does she have to bring that up at every single family function?"
Natalie sat beside her and patted Ginny awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, love, I imagine she's just getting used to the whole idea yet."
"What's to get used to? We've been divorced for over a year!" Ginny moaned.
"Yes, but Molly has always felt like Harry's one of her own, hasn't she?" Natalie said reasonably. Despite being the newest of the Weasley daughters-in-law, with her calm demeanor and quiet cheer, Natalie had quickly become one of the people that everyone seemed to confide in. She had also become, in a family full of people with volatile tempers, a sort of mediator by default. "I suppose she still feels that way."
"But he's not one of her own," Ginny said, her voice rather muffled by her arms. "And I don't care how she thinks of him, she needn't bring it up at every single dinner." She raised her head long enough to clap one hand in front of her chest and lift her voice in an uncanny impression of her mother. "'Oh, I don't know why you left him, the poor boy'." She dropped her hands and growled in disgust. "Not like she ever had to live with Perfect Harry Potter."
Natalie looked at Neville, who shrugged and looked away. He'd heard it all before. "I don't think Molly means it that way," Natalie began tentatively.
"I don't understand why she can't just let it go. Harry and I have managed to...it's been an amicable split, we get along, we're perfectly civil to each other. It's her who seems to want to make an issue of it." Ginny leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.
"I suppose she just doesn't understand why you split up."
"Why?" Ginny lifted her head and glared at Natalie. "Because I wasn't happy, is why. Because he's bloody impossible to live with, is why. Because he was driving me mad and it was either leave or kill him, is why. Because he's Harry fucking Potter, is why. Because he's a - " She clamped her mouth shut suddenly, then took a deep breath. "She never had to live with him. And it's none of her bloody business. I had my reasons."
Natalie leaned back, surprised by Ginny's vehemence. She started to say something, then stopped, obviously trying to formulate some sort of reply, when Fred and George came piling into the room, with Angelina right behind them.
"Molly's calmed down a bit...she's playing with the kids, so I dragged these two reprobates in here to do cleanup," Angelina explained. The twins ignored the dishes in favour of flopping down into chairs, George beside Natalie, and Fred across from Ginny, who transferred her glare to her brothers.
"What do you want now?" Ginny demanded grumpily. "It's bad enough I've got Mum on my back, without you two pulling anything."
"Didn't want much-" George began.
Fred leaned forward. "We were just wondering - "
"Why Malfoy?" they said in unison.
"Oh, honestly. Did it cross your mind that perhaps it's just because I like him?" Ginny asked in exasperation.
"You like him? How can you like Malfoy? Isn't there some sort of law against that?" George asked. "He was a God-awful little monster in school."
"Well he's not anymore. Surprisingly enough, he's changed a fair bit in the twelve whole years since then," Ginny said.
"Still, Gin, you must have known it'd give Mum fits," George said reasonably. "I mean, honestly. Is it some sort of mid-life crisis, sort of thing? Misplaced rebellion you didn't get out of your system when you were sixteen?"
"No, it is not, and I resent that the only reason I would be dating Draco is because I'm trying to piss people off. Believe it or not, my mother's opinion on who I chose to spend time with is not high of my list of considerations when deciding who I will and will not date," Ginny said haughtily, looking down her nose at her brothers. "We met up and he was quite pleasant, and seemed to have changed and he invited me out and now we're dating. All perfectly reasonable."
Fred and George glanced at each other like they didn't quite believe this. "He's nice, is he? A reformed character? Given up on the whole Dark Arts, Death Eating thing?"
"Yes, he is, and yes he has and I'll thank you not to badmouth him in front of me," Ginny said indignantly.
"But Gin, he's not even cute!" Fred protested. "If you were going to pick a Death Eater to give Mum fits, couldn't you at least find an attractive one?"
Ginny's eyes flickered to Neville, who was suddenly rather red in the face. She looked back at Fred and blinked innocently. "I'm sorry...I'll do better next time."
"Next time..." George said in mock horror. "Next time it'll be - " he stopped. "You know, I can't think of anyone who'd be worse than Malfoy."
"Oh, knock it off." Ginny reached over Natalie and whacked George on the shoulder. "He's not all that bad, you know. And don't you have dishes to do, instead of harassing your little sister?"
"She's got a point," Angelina said. "C'mon, you. Get to work."
"Harassment? How is protecting our little sister's virtue harassment? I don't have to take this sort of abuse!" Fred protested, as Angelina pulled him to his feet and gave him a shove toward the sink. "Ange, cut that out."
"How about you start doing what you're supposed to be doing and leave Ginny alone?" Angelina asked, as she drew her wand and looked meaningfully at the sink. "Dishes. They won't do themselves."
Amidst much grumbling and prodding, the twins attacked the mountain of dishes in the sink, tossing plates and cups around the room with magic, while Angelina and Natalie made tea and tried to keep breakage to a minimum.
"Well," George finally said, whisking the last plate into a cupboard. "On the plus side, in ten years we can look back on this and laugh.. It'll give us a story to tell the grandkids. The Christmas Auntie Ginny Dated A Death Eater."
"He's not a Death Eater!" Ginny protested. "George -!"
"Say, if you include the bits about Harry and Neville, you could call the whole story Auntie Ginny Gets Around." Fred said, and made a frantic dash for the door to avoid the flurry of dishtowels and crockery aimed at his head.
~*~
Draco's plane was almost half an hour late, which was typical of trying to travel at Christmas. He sighed and waited as patiently as he could while the passengers were shunted through the security systems, collected their baggage, went through customs and through yet another security check, before making it to the doors leading out to the main terminal. He scanned the crowd waiting beyond the dividers and quickly spotted John, towering head and shoulders over most of the other people, long black hair in braids over his shoulders.
"Oki Ni-kso-ko-wa," John greeted him after Draco made his way through the crowds of travelers to the other man's side. "Long time no see, Ksik-kihk-ini. How was the flight?"
"Long, boring, and uncomfortable. And I'd seen the movie." Draco shifted his bag and gave John a one-armed hug. "How're you doing, big guy?"
"Good, good. Fending Annie off at the moment. She's called me 3 times on my cell, wondering where I am and why I'm not at the ranch yet. I had to turn it off. Mind if we drive straight down? I told her I'd be there by 10, and it's almost 1."
Draco stretched and nodded. "Sure, but only if we stop somewhere for food. I'm starving. Oh, and I have an errand to run before we leave town."
An hour later, they were on the highway headed south, Draco munching happily on McDonalds fries, the heater blasting. The radio in John's car was broken, so Draco amused himself by singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs all the way from Calgary to Cardston (where John had a fit and bought a portable stereo and batteries so he wouldn't have to listen to him anymore.) They pulled into Fort Macleod at five o'clock, and finally got to the ranch house at quarter to six. "Anne is gonna kill me," John said as he parked behind Jay's minivan and Keith's battered pickup and shut off the engine. "I was supposed to be here 8 hours ago."
"No she won't. I'll distract her," Draco grinned. "We'll bury her in presents and good cheer, she'll forget all about it."
"Not likely," John snorted as they trudged up the front porch stairs. The front door of the ranch house was unlocked and standing slightly ajar, so John pushed the door open. "Stay behind me," he said to Draco, who grinned and nodded.
Anne came around the corner from the kitchen as soon as John opened the door; she was a short, plain woman with light brown hair mostly gone to grey, done up in a bun to keep it off her face. "You!" she cried furiously, pointing one small hand at John. "You were supposed to have been here hours ago! I have been worried sick about you! Call if you are going to go traipsing about before you come down, so I don't wear myself to death wondering if you're dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Sorry, Anne," John said sheepishly. "But I had to stop and pick a few things up. You know, presents, buns, salad, Draco..."
On cue, Draco stepped out from behind John and grinned down at Anne. She gasped, torn between amusement and anger. "You...!" Laughter won out, and she stepped forward to give Draco a hug. "I thought you were staying in England!"
Draco smiled and hugged her back. "I lied," he said unrepentantly.
"I can see that, you brat. Did you two plan this?" she demanded. She kept one arm around Draco's waist, and poked John in the stomach with her other hand, glaring up at him.
"We may have," John admitted. "Merry Christmas."
"Well, you could have planned it better. You're still late, and don't think this lets you off the hook!" She jabbed him again. "C'mon in to the kitchen, that's where everyone is. Except Ed, he ran into town for ice."
John and Draco followed her through the living room and into the large kitchen, which full of people, both in the kitchen itself and the small den that led off the left side. A fire was roaring in the big fieldstone fireplace in the den, and the room was full of warmth and the smell of mincemeat pies and roast turkey. A chorus of voices greeted Draco's appearance, and he spent several minutes being hugged and clapped on the back by everyone. Keith and his wife Stacy had come up from their small house at the other end of the property, with their three children. Mark, who was a slight, painfully shy young man, had driven in from Fort Macleod, where he worked as a mechanic. Where Mark took after Keith and Jay were both the spitting image of Ed, tall and barrel-chested, although Jay had put on weight and didn't have the same weather-beaten look as his father and older brother. Jay was a production engineer for Shell Canada, and tried not to come home, or even go outside the city, if he could possibly avoid it.
Jay's wife, Rhonda, was standing in the archway to the den, wineglass in hand, looking bored and over-dressed in a tailored black suit. She was a tall, stick-thin blonde who worked as an executive assistant for the CEO of one of the larger oil companies in Calgary; she hated coming to the ranch, and didn't bother to hide it, turning her nose up at the food, at the house, at what the other women were wearing, at the quality of the wine. She was currently looking down her nose at Stacy, who was wearing an old plaid shirt and faded blue jeans, bustling around the kitchen helping Anne with the cooking. Rhonda sniffed and nodded slightly at Draco when he glanced at her; she loathed Draco with intensity, and he hated her right back.
John's friend Deloraine was there too, sitting at the kitchen table chopping carrots, her light auburn hair tucked behind her ears. "How did you get here?" John asked her, and she pointed her paring knife at Mark with a grin.
"I took the Greyhound down to Fort Macleod and made him pick me up," she said. "Hey, Dray, c'mere and tell me about England."
"You can ask him about his girlfriend," John grinned, slapping Draco on the shoulder.
"Ooooh! You have a girlfriend?" Del asked gleefully. "What's her name?"
Draco groaned and glared at John. "You're a big help, you know that?"
"I try."
Draco leaned over to steal a carrot slice from Del's pile of veggies. "Would it be futile to try and change the subject by asking what's for dinner?"
"Probably." Del pushed a chair out for him with her foot, and Draco flopped into it. "Wanna help me make salad?"
Keith leaned over and tapped John on the shoulder. "We're going to go take a look at the new horses. You comin?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly at both John and Draco. Draco shook his head, but John nodded and stood up.
"Sure," he said, following Keith out the back door to the covered porch. Jay and Mark followed them out, and Rhonda vanished off into the back of the house in a cloud of perfume.
Del raised her eyebrows at Draco. "You're not going?"
"Nah." Draco reached over and stole another carrot before Del could stop him. "Too bloody cold out. I'll just stay here, thank you."
"Trust him to stay where all the girls are," Stacy said over her shoulder, provoking a shout of laughter from Del.
"Hey, speaking of girls..." she began.
Draco stood up rapidly. "You know, maybe I will go out and see the horses - "
"Not so fast!" Anne reached over and tapped him on the shoulder with her wooden spoon, leaving a smear of flour on his shirt. Draco dusted at it, glaring at her. "Sit down, you, and tell us all about her."
Draco sighed and sank back down. "Damn."
"Curses, foiled again," Del said with a grin. "You're getting slow and feeble in your old age."
"Look who's talking. Least I don't have gray hair," Draco retorted.
Del let out an angry yell and tossed a carrot at him. "Bastard!" In truth, Del was two years younger than he was, although she did have gray hair. She had started going grey before she'd met John, in university, and Draco privately suspected that she'd been dying it so long she didn't remember what colour it really was. Del and John had been friends ever since they'd shared a class on the history of English civil law, in the summer of 1999, John for his law degree, and Del for her major in Medieval history. Draco had hated her with a passion when they first met, although his dislike had faded over the years; now she was like the obnoxious little sister Draco had never had.
Anne sighed. "Would you two cut that out? Del, stop teasing him. Dray, leave her alone. I swear, they never grow up," she said to Stacy. Draco obligingly moved his chair farther away from Del, and she went back to slicing her vegetables. "C'mon, honey, you were gonna tell us about your girlfriend."
"I was?" Draco said wryly.
"You sure were," Stacy said with a grin, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes with one damp hand.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Everything," Del said promptly. "What's she look like, is she nice, what does she do, where'd you meet her, is she good in bed..."
"Del!" Stacy straightened up from where she'd been rummaging in the fridge and glared at the other woman. "You can't ask him things like that!"
"Sure I can. I just did." Del paused thoughtfully. "Of course, I can't make you tell me, but I can ask."
"I hadn't planned to." Draco folded his arms and scowled at Del.
"That's alright, if you don't want Anne to know, you can just tell me later. So what's she like?" She slid the pile of sliced carrots into the bowl Anne handed to her, and passed it across the table to Draco, who took it and handed it to Stacy.
"She's tall, she's got red hair, she's divorced and has three children - do you mind?" he glared at Del, who was making retching noises. "Just because you don't like them, doesn't mean other people can't have them. I went to school with her, way back when. Met her in a supermarket last September, and we started seeing each other."
"Is she pretty?" Anne asked.
Draco chuckled. "Yes, she's pretty. Of course she's pretty."
Anne shrugged. "Thought I'd ask. You gonna marry her?"
"Anne!" he protested. "I've only been seeing her for 3 months. If that."
"So? That's enough time to know" Anne peered at him, and Draco coughed slightly and looked away. "Time you got married, anyway. You've been alone for far too long."
"Anne, don't," he said warningly.
"I mean it. You've moped around without ever having a serious relationship since Laura died. It's time and past time you got over her, found a nice girl and settled down." Anne reached over and patted his shoulder. "I don't like seeing you unhappy dear, and she's been gone for nearly ten years now. Not that it's any use talking to you about it," she said with a sigh as he stood up, scowling. "Sit back down."
"I don't want to talk about it," Draco said shortly.
"You never do," said Del in annoyance. "Anyone so much as mentions Laura's name and you're off like a shot. C'mon and sit down."
Draco folded his arms and glared at both Del and Anne. "I have had this conversation before, and I would really rather not have it again."
Anne matched him glare for glare. "I said sit. You haven't had this conversation with me yet, and if you think you are leaving this room before you do, you've got another thing coming." She waited until he sank back into his chair, looking mutinous. Stacy was standing in front of the oven, worriedly clutching a thermometer, and even Del was looking serious for once. Anne leaned casually against the back of one of the other chairs. "Now. Tell me about her. What was her name again?"
"Ginny," Draco said grouchily, poking at the tabletop. The problem with having people you considered family, he thought to himself, was that they always seemed to feel like they had the right to pry into things.
"And she's got three kids? Boys or girls?"
"One girl, two boys."
"How old are they?"
"Six, four and two."
Anne let out a low whistle. "How old is she?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Poor girl. And she's divorced?"
"Yes."
"You planning on giving me better than one word answers any time soon?"
"No."
Anne sighed. "Have I ever told you how incredibly frustrating you are?"
"Yes."
Anne sighed again and started to drum her fingers on the edge of the chair. Del had quietly gone back to making salad, having clearly decided to let Anne handle him. Draco scowled again. He hated being handled as much as he hated having his life pried into. And it was ten times worse when he knew they were doing it. Stacy and Del were working quietly, unwilling to interrupt, and Anne was just standing there, not doing anything, just...waiting. She could have given Voldemort tips on extracting information from people.
"It's not going to work," Draco finally said in irritation.
"What's that, dear?" Anne said idly, glancing at him. "Mind you watch how big you make those pieces of lettuce, dear," she said to Del.
He waved his hand at her. "What you're doing. Standing around and waiting for me to talk. It won't work."
"What makes you think that's what I'm doing?" Anne asked innocently.
"I am a trained police officer. I can recognize an interrogation technique when I see one."
Anne pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling. "Right. So, when do you go back to England?" she asked casually.
Draco groaned. "You're going to bug me about this all week, aren't you?"
Del grinned. "Better you than me," she said.
"Don't tell me you've found a boyfriend?" Draco looked over at Del, who cleared her throat and studiously avoided looking at him. "Have you?"
She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the men back from the barn. "Just in time to set the table," Stacy said happily, and sent them off to wash their hands.
Ed arrived back from the store, and the topic of conversation mercifully changed from Draco's love life to other things as they settled down to eat. After dinner was over and the dishes cleared away from the dining room table, everyone retired to the den for coffee and dessert. Draco was sitting on the edge of the couch, close to the kitchen door, with Del on the floor in front of him and John beside her, watching as the children played card games and the adults chattered. After an hour or so of watching Rhonda sneer and the brothers argue, Del leaned over and elbowed John in the ribs. "I'm gonna go crazy if I have to deal with this any longer. Let's go for a walk."
"Sure," John nodded and looked up inquiringly at Draco. "You coming?"
Draco winced as one of the children shrieked particularly loud. "Right behind you."
One by one, they slipped out to the kitchen and managed to make it out to the enclosed part of the back porch without being seen by Anne. They paused to bundle up against the cold, piling on sweaters and scarves against the chill. Once outside, the three of them made their way across the yard and through the gate in the back fence, following the path that lead into the small ravine where the creek flowed in summer, footsteps crunching on the faint dusting of snow. It was bone dry, and almost unbearably cold, and the air was like crystal, marred only by the ghostly clouds of their breath.
They walked in silence down the ravine, until it flattened out and snaked around one of the long foothills. The path bent and followed the creek, but the three of them veered off to climb to the top of the hill, the brittle grass snapping and rustling underfoot. An almost-full moon bathed the prairie in eerie blue light as it stretched out all around them. They stood in silence for a long time, the wind whispering through the grass the only sound.
"I forgot how cold it gets," Draco said finally, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
"It warmer in England?" Del asked, equally quiet.
"Yes. Damp, so it feels cold...but not this cold." He curled his fingers into his gloves and pulled his coat sleeves down over his hands. His hands were starting to go numb. "It's got to be minus 40 out here."
"It was chinooking just last week. We saved up the weather special, just for you." Del shuffled her feet in the grass and huffed against her hands. "We knew you was comin'"
"Figures."
"So how is England, anyway?" John asked.
"English," Draco snorted. "Same as always." He could feel Del and John exchanging glances behind his back
"So?" Del asked.
"So?" Draco repeated, sounding amused.
"So...what's the story behind your new girlfriend?" Del huffed again, her breath billowing in silvery clouds on the still air.
"You've already heard it all." Draco hid his smile and winked at John over Del's head. John grinned back; Draco had told him all about Ginny in the car on the way down.
"Oh, bullshit. There is more to the story than what you told Anne earlier." Del glared from one man to the other. "And if you two are pulling some guy thing and holding out on me there will be hell to pay in so many words. Don't try be all inscrutable with me, Dray. It's not mysterious, it's just annoying."
Draco laughed at that, and turned around in a circle, staring up at the stars. "I'm serious. There's nothing else to tell."
"She's just pretty and has kids? Does she have potential?"
"Potential?" Draco asked.
"You know, long term relationship potential. Or are you just stringing this pretty single mother along?" Del stamped her feet in the grass, blowing on her hands again.
Draco sighed. "No, I am not stringing her along...but as for potential, I don't know. It depends, I guess."
"On what?"
"On if he decides to stay in England and make the attempt, despite everything he'd have to face up to and doesn't want to, or if he decides to not bother and just moves back here after his case finishes up," John said quietly. "Or so I'd assume."
Draco shot him a wry grin and nodded faintly. Del raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Stay in England for this woman?"
Draco thought about it for a long, long moment. "I don't know. Maybe. I think...I just don't know yet."
They stood in silence, looking up at the stars. Finally, Draco shifted his feet and shivered. "We should head back, before we freeze out here."
He and Del turned to go but John held up a hand. "Wait," he said softly. "Listen."
They paused, looking out across the prairie. The first howl sounded from the south, so faint it was almost drowned out by the wind in the grass. The lonely sound was picked up, closer, then again from the southwest and west; wailing yips and cries echoing through the clear air in wave after wave, spreading from south to west to north until finally fading back into stillness.
"I'taamomahkat Oyiiksistsikomi," John whispered softly, after the last echoes had died. "Merry Christmas."
They turned and walked silently back to the house.
~*~
NB: A Chinook is a warm, dry wind that descends from the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains and flows across the prairie, causing a rapid rise in temperature, and usually resulting in snowmelt, lots of slush, terrible roads, and migraines for the lucky few from the pressure changes. 'Chinooking' is a local term used to describe the weather when a Chinook is occurring (as in "I've got a splitting headache; it must be chinooking"). They occur frequently throughout the winter in Southern Alberta.
The language being spoken by John is Blackfoot, and a rough translation of the phrases follows. (But don't expect a pronunciation guide, because I have no idea!):
Ksik-kihk-ini - bald eagle (literally, white head, which is why John calls Draco this)
Oki Ni-kso-ko-wa - Hello, my relative
I'taamomahkat Oyiiksistsikomi - Merry Christmas (literally, happy big holy day)
I made use of The Blackfoot Dictionary of Stems, Roots, and Affixes by D. G. Frantz and N. J. Russell (University of Toronto Press, 1989, ISBN 0-8020-2691-5), and some Blackfoot phrases can be found online at http://www.blackfootelders.com Any mistakes in spelling, grammar and syntax are my own.
Leave a Review