Of course she should have realized that the striking blond was Draco’s son. No two people on the planet could look that similar. She vaguely remembered the birth announcement in the Prophet, rejoicing over the birth of the newest heir to the Malfoy fortune. The Witch’s Mouth seemed to closely resemble a Malfoy family album during those first years, publishing every little accomplishment of the young child from his first steps to his first autograph. While Harry and Ginny had always relentlessly fought the press regarding their children, Draco and his silent wife seemed intent on keeping their son directly in that media spotlight. This continued until the scandal about Mrs. Astoria Malfoy was uncovered. Astoria’s crime was the involvement in an intense muggle torturing project right after He fell, an attempt to reunite the scattered Death Eaters. Ginny was surprised she had eluded capture as long as she had. But then again, now it seemed that everyone over the age of thirty-five had a past that they wanted to hide. With this discovery, the focus shifted from the golden child to his mother. Astoria, unable to handle the stress, took to her bed almost immediately. Four months later, she was dead. The official story attributed this to her history of poor health. Ginny suspected that her departure from this world had been hastened by her husband, but her suspicions went unmentioned in The Prophet as well as the cheap tabloids like The Witch’s Mouth.

Ginny sighed and rolled over, tracing the patterns on the faded blue comforter. It was pointless to contemplate the Malfoy family history. The chances that she was going to run into that family again were about the same as her being mauled by an over-emotional hippogiff. It just was not going to happen. Ginny yawned widely. The bed felt so comfortable; it was hard to focus her thoughts. Swiftly, without bothering to undress or even pull back the covers, Ginny fell asleep, her hand resting on the light blue fleur-de-lis it had been tracing.

Darkness. Screams.

Her friends were falling, dying. She couldn’t help them.

She heard a voice yell her name, but it was impossible to see who.

She tried to respond but when she opened her mouth all that came out was cruel, high-pitched laughter.

Ginny awoke to complete darkness, drenched. Her sweater stuck uncomfortably to her back while beads of sweat condensed on her face. A dream, she told herself firmly. Just a dream. Just another dream. It wasn’t anything new; she had experienced similar nightmares on occasion since her first year. The nightmares grew more frequent after the battle at Hogwarts and had continued to plague her as she matured. She was accustomed to waking up in sweat-soaked pajamas, a silent scream on her lips, but that didn’t lessen the shaky feeling she experienced after waking from one.

Shaking her head slightly, as if the simple action would be able to shake out some of the screams, Ginny got up from the bed and made way for the bathroom at the end of the hall. Thankfully, it was unoccupied and Ginny rushed gratefully inside. Ginny splashed the freezing water onto her face, washing away the sweat. It felt wonderful, as it always did. The trembling in her hands had stopped, at least. Deciding that was good enough for the present, Ginny made her way back to her room. Upon entering, she glanced to her right. The clock on the dresser stated it was six twenty. Ginny assumed it was in the AM hours due to the soft orange light that was beginning to glow behind the pulled curtains. Apparently, she had been more tired than she thought. Sleeping for twelve hours straight was not exactly her normal routine. Deciding that was more than enough rest, Ginny threw on some clean clothes and made her way down to the pub, hoping breakfast was better than the hasty dinner she had eaten prior to getting her room the previous day.

The Yodeling Dwarf was full of the busy morning commuters, all talking rapidly about business deals or with their noses stuck in the Daily Prophet. Ginny took a place at a small table in the corner, hoping she would be able to eat her breakfast in peace.

She was debating on what to order when a smooth voice interrupted her talking to the waitress.

“Might I suggest the vegetable omelet?” Looking up from the breakfast menu, Ginny couldn’t even be annoyed at the disruption and smiled slightly.

“Scorpius Malfoy, correct?” she said, extending her hand to the man who had taken a seat opposite her.

“How kind of you to remember, Mrs. Potter,” the young man replied, taking her hand warmly in his own.

“Please. Call me Ginny.”

Scorpius smiled, showing unnaturally white, even teeth. “Ginny it is then,” he continued. “I was hoping to find you here this morning.”

“Oh? Why is that?’

“I must be allowed to apologize on behalf of my father. He was very rude to you yesterday in a way that was most unlike him.” If Scorpius heard Ginny’s snort, he chose to ignore it. “I’m he is not always the most tolerant person. I do hope though, that he will not prohibit you from speaking with me.”

”Of course not!” Even if he is a complete git, Ginny added mentally. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“First of all,” He started with the calm aura of someone who is used to asking questions, “How do you know my father?”

Ginny was surprised Draco Malfoy had not ranted to his son about the Weasley family, considering how much he had hated them in school. “Well, we are… acquaintances from Hogwarts.” She thought that was a fair response. It would have been a lie to say they were friends, but saying they absolutely detested each other seemed a bit harsh.

“So you were in school during the Dark Lord’s rise to power?”

“Yes,” Ginny responded, slightly uneasy at Scorpius’s use of the same term the Death Eaters had used.

“Were you there during the final battle?” The blue tinted eyes seemed to glow with the excitement his tone did not portray.

Ginny was saved from answering his question, however, by the arrival of her food. The omelet did not smell as delicious as her mother’s cooking, but it was certainly edible. Hoping that Scorpius had been distracted from his interrogation, Ginny looked up and laughed, all uneasiness vanished immediately.

The look on Scorpius’s face was such an utter display of revulsion that Ginny thought her omelet had transformed into the entrails of some strange animal.

“I thought you recommended this?” Ginny said, taking a bite.

“Well yes,” Scorpius said, recovering his composure slightly. “Simply because it is the only thing on the menu that even resembles edible food.”

Ginny swallowed. It wasn’t that bad.

“I must be going,” Scorpius said suddenly. Ginny wondered if it was because he was going to be sick over the sight of her eating the omelet. “But please, can we speak again soon?”

“Of course. Any time you wish.”

“Tomorrow evening then.”

“Agreed.”

With a quick smile and nod, Scorpius Malfoy rushed out the back door leaving a confused but smiling Ginny alone at the table in the corner, halfheartedly eating her omelet.