Ginny had wanted to go with Draco to the cemetery, but he had demurred. It wasn't even a visibility concern, though he was somewhat concerned about that. He didn't want to put her into a position where others would whisper about her, where she would be the object of everyone's stares. It was a horrid feeling, and he inwardly cringed whenever he thought about how he had treated other people that hadn't been in his year at school. He hadn't been any better than the nameless faces in the crowds, but at least he was trying. At least he cared enough to try.
He had a basket with yellow and white roses. There was really only one Wizarding cemetery in all of England, and the older families had their reserved plots or mausoleums. Very few had them on the grounds of their home, though some of the truly ancient Malfoys were in the crypt at the farthest edge of the Manor property. The old crypts were unsafe and crumbling, and sometime in the 1700s it had become a mark of distinction to try to have the gaudiest and most ostentatious mausoleum at the cemetery. In true Malfoy style, theirs was the largest and most easily recognizable one. The Blacks ran a very close second.
Draco stopped by the Crabbe plot. Vincent had been a friend, at least until the Malfoy name had stopped being as influential in Death Eater ranks. Vincent might have stuck with him anyway if he hadn't been a self absorbed prat, if he had tried harder to actually listen to him. Vincent's mother had approached him at his trials, a tiny, sickly wraith of a woman. Draco had thought that she would have condemned Draco for making Vincent join the Death Eaters with him. But the woman had clasped his hand and wished him luck. "I'm just glad you were there with him at the end," she had said. "It's a relief that he didn't die alone."
Vincent's tombstone was marked with a large X over the top of it. Even in death, the Ministry had gotten to him. Even in death, he couldn't simply lie in peace like everyone else. Draco placed a white rose down in front of the stone. "I'm sorry," he murmured, tracing the letters of Vincent's name.
The grass was cold beneath his knees, and the edges of the carved letters were sharp beneath his fingertips. Not enough time had passed to wear away the edges. The large X at the top of the stone was a deep, angry gouge, an ugly reminder that Vincent wasn't acceptable to the current regime.
Draco rose stiffly, leaning on the stone beside Vincent's for balance. He recoiled when he saw that it was Vincent's mother. She had died mere months later, no reason left to go on. She was buried beside her son, next to her husband.
A large circle was carved into the top of her headstone.
Hands shaking with anger, he traced the gouged circle. She had been a sweet woman, a tiny Hufflepuff that had fallen for the charms of Vincent's father. Draco remembered joking with Vincent that he had none of his father's charm and all of his mother's devotion to details and family. He remembered how Vincent flushed with anger at first, until Draco had covered himself and said it was a compliment. Vincent's mother had always included him in her care packages, including a kind word and a tin of homemade biscuits for being one of Vincent's friends.
If he had eaten anything that morning, Draco would have been sick.
Draco put a yellow rose at her headstone, and one for Vincent's father. His X wasn't a shock; he had been a follower in the first war against Voldemort. Vincent had some misguided idea he had to avenge his father's death at the hands of an Order member, and Draco had encouraged it so he wouldn't be alone in his tasks.
He stalked through the rows of headstones at the cemetery, bile and anger rising in equal measure within him. If Ginny stayed with him, if she insisted on being seen with him, this would happen to her someday. The Ministry would gouge a circle onto her headstone, would mark her for future generations to think she was unworthy in some way. He couldn't allow that to happen to her.
It was no surprise to see the X for Bellatrix Lestrange, for the other Lestranges, for Regulus Black. He shouldn't have been surprised by the circles carved into other headstones of vague relations he dimly remembered from the family tapestry. Draco dropped roses wherever he went, yellow and white and some with blood covered thorns where he had clutched them too tightly in his fist. His grandmother had been marked with a circle, even though she was long since dead and had nothing to do with the current war. It looked as though the Ministry had combed through family trees, had gone back at least three generations for every confirmed Death Eater.
Circles and X's gouged into crumbling stone, fresh edges sharp and more easily discernible than the names themselves.
Draco came to a stop in front of the headstone for the Lupins, Remus and Nymphadora - the name "Tonks" carved underneath, set in quotation marks to show it'd been the name she was called. She had been his cousin, not that they had ever spoken.
He hadn't even been aware of her existence until he was fourteen years old and had gone through the Manor attics. Some of his mother's old correspondence was there, and she had been looking through things while searching for something Bellatrix had wanted. She had apparently stopped to read old letters, and that was when Draco had found the letter from Andromeda Tonks telling Narcissa about her baby girl. Draco had never heard his mother mention it before.
After that, he had devoured whatever mention of her he could find, hoping to find out more about the family he had never known about. She was an Auror, and after a while he had been able to figure out she had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix as well. He had seen her talking to Harry Potter once, and it had all clicked into place.
A circle had been carved into the headstone she shared with Remus Lupin.
Cold rage flooded Draco then. This was too much. His cousin was a fucking hero for the other side, dying to serve the Order and their cause, and they still marked her as if she was a common criminal. She had given more than anyone could possibly give, and it meant nothing.
He deposited the rest of his flowers on their graves, his palms riddled with scratches. He left the cemetery, seething.
Something would have to be done. He didn't know what yet, but this could not be borne.
***
Draco's distaste for Harry Potter was easily overcome by his utter loathing for the Ministry and its bureaucratic bullshit. Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he owled Harry and requested a meeting. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to read in between constantly checking to see if he'd gotten a reply and cursing Harry Potter for being an ill-mannered cretin. Even if the answer was no, etiquette demanded some form of response.
Business hours drew to a close and Draco scowled, resigning himself to waiting at least another day. He was pouring himself a drink when Ginny apparated in, dressed more elegantly than he had seen her. "So? How do I look? And why aren't you ready?"
"Ready for what?" he asked, his heart frozen in his chest as he waited in dread for her response.
"I thought Harry was going to owl you – I guess he got caught up in things once he got back to work." Ginny shrugged, which did nothing to reassure him. "He'd gotten your note just as I delivered some flowers from Luna. We agreed to meet up for dinner, to talk about everything and plan what happens next."
"What in Salazar's name are you talking about?" Draco asked, his voice harsh. "You're not going," he said flatly. He'd risk Potter and even Lovegood, but not Ginny. Never Ginny.
"Of course I'm going," she said, looking at him with surprise. "You're acting as if you're ashamed of me. It's past time you actually took me out somewhere, instead of us always staying home."
"I'm a former fucking Death Eater," Draco replied with his jaw clenched. "People will hate you just for associating with me. You're not going."
"Emphasis on former," Ginny replied, taking hold of his right hand. Her fingers covered the glaring X on the back of his hand easily. "And if they would hate me for that, they're not worth knowing anyway."
Draco pulled his hand away from her. "No. You're not going to destroy your life like this."
"Draco, you're being unreasonable..."
"Stop it," he snarled, lip curling the way it used to when he teased her or her brother at school. "You don't understand what it's going to be like for you. Your business will die. You won't have any friends. You'll be isolated and stared at and mocked. You're going to be marked, you're going to be shunned, and you have no fucking idea what that's like, no clue what you're getting into."
He was shaking her by now, his grip bruising her shoulders until she broke away from him. "You're being a self centered arse! Has it ever occurred to you that I know all this? That I can make choices of my own?"
"You won't be reasonable about this," he said, feeling a sick despair rising in his throat. "You're going to be a fucking Gryffindor and turn this into some kind of crusade."
"So? You're worth that."
"You're not listening!" Draco rubbed his hands over his face, trying to calm down. "Why are you the only one who can make choices? Why can't I say anything about what I want and have you pay attention?"
Poking him in the chest, she said, "I'd listen to you if you talked sense. I'm a capable witch in my own right, I fought in the war, and—"
"And you're too fucking stubborn to live!" He shook her again, practically nose to nose as he glared at her. "What's so bloody hard to understand about my wanting to protect the woman I love from paying for my fucking crimes?"
Ginny had opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as his words sank in. "Draco?"
They were both silent for a moment, his words hanging in the air between them, and he felt the fire of anger ebbing, leaving him empty and cold. "I couldn't bear it if you hated me because of what they will do to you if they know I love you."
"You love me?" she asked, looking stunned. She stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him with a tender expression. She smiled suddenly, as if everything made sense. "I love you, too, Draco. That's why I want to do this. Not just because it's the right thing to do, but because I want to be able to go out and do things with you. I don't want you acting as if you're ashamed of me, as if we have to hide what this is."
He closed a hand over one of hers. "I don't want you hurt," he murmured. "They're vicious and cruel and they want to break everyone. If anything happened to you, I don't know how I'd recover. I've only been able to get this far because of you."
"But this isn't your choice," Ginny said firmly. "This is mine. You can't take it away from me. That's just as demeaning as those marks are."
Draco sighed and cupped her face with his hand. "I don't want this to be something you'll regret," he told her softly.
"Never," she told him with a smile. She pressed her palm against his cheek. "We'll work this out together. I promise, it's going to be all right."
"I'm holding you to it," Draco said, pulling her tight against him. He bent down and kissed her, hoping this was the right thing. He had to take the chance that she really wouldn't have regrets, that she really was strong enough to hold up under the strain it would produce. "Let's go to dinner."
The restaurant was posh, the maitre d' haughty, the waitstaff fidgety and the food delicious. Potter was somewhat awkward, less an impossibly important or lofty figure and more a young man caught up in things outside of his control. Draco couldn't help but wince when he mangled the pronunciation of the wine he peremptorily ordered for the table, and seized hold of his dinner fork to eat his salad. Draco tried to point out the obvious, but Luna merely smiled at Harry and picked up the same fork on her own place setting.
"Why bow to convention?" Luna asked sweetly. "I never did understand the fuss about what kind of fork to use with which part of the meal. The food all goes to the same place, after all, and forks don't alter your enjoyment of the meal. It would be a great deal of difference in which part of a whittled blacksnake you want to eat, but even then I'm sure it wouldn't matter overmuch."
With his usual lack of grace, Harry started talking over the entree. "So what did you want to talk about when you owled me?" he asked.
Draco sighed. There was no point in subtlety with this one, he supposed. He simply had never learned it and didn't know any better, and everyone around him was indulging him. "These marks," he began slowly, reaching out to grasp his wine glass. The wine didn't match his entree at all, and it didn't have very good legs. Still, it wasn't a completely shoddy wine choice. "They're in the cemetery, on the headstones."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Have you visited the cemetery at all?" Draco asked him, gaze sharp. The other man shook his head, confused. "They put these marks on the graves of the dead. Everyone, three generations back, more in some places. They're not always accurate, either."
Harry had gone very, very still with Draco's words. "I wasn't aware of that," he said finally.
"The memorial for Sirius Black has one," Draco told him. He watched Harry flinch without any degree of pleasure. He would have cheerfully throttled someone back at Hogwarts to be able to do this to Harry, but now it was hollow. It meant nothing, and it only caused the other man pain. "They need to be stopped," Draco said simply.
"I should tell them," Harry said, nodding his head decisively. "They'll listen to me, I'm sure. They listen better now than before."
Without the house rivalry and the continual feelings of rejection and frustration, Draco could see that Harry was an average sort of bloke. He wasn't particularly nasty or special or even all that bright, and Draco felt as though some of his old hate simply drained away. What was there to hate? Harry seemed genuinely happy with Luna Lovegood, pleased with his work as an Unspeakable and frustrated with his attempts to make the Ministry a better place. He was still somewhat idealistic, despite knowing full well how twisted the Ministry employees could be.
"Potter," Draco began, making sure his voice carried no trace of the derision he felt toward the Ministry. "That isn't going to work."
"Why not?" he asked, getting defensive. "It's not as bad as it was five years ago. I wouldn't work for them if it was."
"No offense, but you're the fucking Boy Who Lived. You saved their collective asses more times than you should have. Of course they'd be nice to you! Someone like me, someone with this kind of a mark, and all I'd get is hatred. They're getting revenge, Potter. They're trying to isolate us, have us kill ourselves off, something. They don't want us about, they don't want us mixing in with the rest of the unsullied masses. That's what they want, and it's never going to be some kind of ideal world you think it should be."
"No ideal world would be a place I want to live in," Luna replied when Harry was unable to speak. "Being afraid to love someone isn't ideal, and neither is being afraid to lose. That's the way of things." She looked at Draco, her gaze frighteningly sharp for a moment. "So what are you going to do about this?"
Draco could feel Ginny's hand on his knee, and she gave him a soft squeeze of support. He dropped his hand to cover hers, fingers on top of his. She made her choice to be with him. They both knew what that meant, and he had to rise to the occasion. "We need to prove that they're wrong. We need to change them from the inside out."
"How far are they going with friendships and relations?" Harry asked, brows knit in thought. He was absently rubbing the side of his hand, looking more disturbed than Draco thought possible.
"Judging by the cemetery? Three or four generations of relations, any known close associates, all extended family." He paused. "Didn't you see what they did to Lupin's stone? Weren't you close with him?"
Harry startled almost violently. "They did what?"
"They marked it with a circle. Nymphadora was my cousin; she had several aunts and uncles as Death Eaters." Draco took in Harry's expression, focused on something distant and unseen. "What are you thinking, Potter?"
"Most of the Wizarding World is all intermarried."
"Especially if you look at Pureblood families," Ginny murmured, finally getting into the conversation. "There are even Prewetts and Malfoys or Blacks intermarrying several generations back."
"So where does it end?" Harry asked.
"That's rather why I asked to discuss the topic, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry blinked at the sound of his voice, and for a moment Draco thought he would have to be on the lookout for Ron Weasley to try to throw a punch. But the only ginger at the table was Ginny, and she was smirking at the comment right along with Draco.
"It has to stop. Someone's gone nutters with the marking, and it's going to ruin us all." Ginny finished off her entree with a flourish. Draco was pleased to notice that she had used the correct cutlery all throughout dinner so far, and hadn't guzzled the wine, either. "They ignore petitions if they're not popular causes. I don't think that's the way to go."
"Do you have any friends in the legislature?" Draco asked Harry.
He seemed stymied for a moment, but Luna smiled. "I have many friends and associates. I am, after all, the one of the Undersecretaries to the Minister of Magic. I can get you an audience with Minister Hopkirk, if you'd like. He's quite reasonable."
"Of course he is," Draco replied, managing to keep a straight face. "He employs you, doesn't he?"
Luna smiled at him and turned to Harry. "See? Perfectly reasonable fellow. Nothing to worry about at all."
Ginny managed to cover her snicker with a cough. Harry shot her a look, but nodded at Luna. "But I don't see how meeting Hopkirk would help you in the long run. If we all show up and refuse to take the mark..."
"They'd expect that kind of thing," Ginny told Harry. "And they wouldn't give it to us anyway. How would it look for their hero to be associating with Death Eaters to the point of taking a mark on his hand?"
Draco smiled. "I think you should take it, Potter. Show them that even their great hero consorts with the enemy."
Luna snorted before Harry could even open his mouth to protest. "I'm the only one he consorts with, and there's no need to add a third to our relationship right now. I keep Harry very satisfied, thank you."
The table fell silent. Luna was smiling and Harry was mortified. Ginny and Draco looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing. They couldn't help it. "What I meant," Draco began when he got his breath back, "was that he thinks Death Eaters can still be worthy of friendship."
"Of course they are!" Luna replied, just as Harry glowered at Draco and said "I'm starting to rethink that idea..."
"It's a wonderful idea," Ginny said with a nod. "And I'll help you look up Hopkirk's family tree." She grinned at Draco's start of surprise. "If a Prewett and a Black can marry, I wonder who married a Hopkirk."
It turned out to be a Rookwood that had married a Hopkirk, exactly three generations past, though the current Minister Hopkirk wasn't a descendant of that marriage. Augustus Rookwood was, however, and that made Augustus Rookwood and the current Minister Hopkirk were cousins, and he therefore was closely related enough to have to take the circle curse mark.
Luna had arranged for Draco to show up to a public meeting that Minister Hopkirk was holding with various community leaders. They talked about Muggleborns not appropriately holding the old parks in high enough reverence, graffiti along Knockturn Alley and then the conversation circled to the former Death Eaters actually trying to obtain jobs to comply with their parole requirements. Draco had initially been surprised to hear that there were others who had been released after five years, and still more slated to be released in another five to ten years. One of the community center owners lamented about the number of marked individuals coming into his center every day.
"This isn't a terribly fair practice, is it?" Draco pointed out to the group politely, interrupting the Minister's reply. Heads turned, taking in who had spoken. Some of the crowd edged away from him, not wanting to sit next to the former Death Eater in their midst.
"What are you doing here?" the Minister replied, face pale. Did the man think that Draco was going to do something untoward there?
"I'm part of the community," Draco replied, looking at him with a placid expression. "I'm concerned about this practice of marking all the relatives and associates of former Death Eaters, however."
"Of course you would be--" someone began to say nastily.
"I was paying my respects to the dead, and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin and her husband Remus Lupin were marked," Draco said, talking over the other man. "They were Order members. They gave their lives to protect everyone in this room, and they're marked as if they had done something horrible."
The Minister looked uncomfortable. "Now, see here, there are reasons for these practices..."
"I realize that you can't exactly repeal this practice on your own. But I'm sure that other such alliances, however unintentional, also exist. I'm concerned about that."
Minister Hopkirk looked vaguely ill. "I'm sorry, young man. You seem to mistaken," he said firmly, shaking his head.
"Isn't Augustus Rookwood your cousin?" Draco asked politely.
Minister Hopkirk sputtered uselessly, and some of the crowd began to yell. They seemed to be divided on the matter, but all seemed to agree that they thought Draco Malfoy was a rabble rouser and a dirty Death Eater that should return to Azkaban. Minister Hopkirk looked to his bodyguards, and they moved at once. Draco was seized by two of them, and the third held a wand right in front of his nose. He lofted an eyebrow at that third bodyguard; what could he do with both arms firmly grasped at his side? "Is something the matter?" he asked calmly, though his heart hammered in his chest. Azkaban was the last place he wanted to go to. Five years had been more than enough.
He was dragged out of the meeting room, and there was so much yelling he couldn't tell what upset everyone the most-- his veiled accusations or the unceremonious arrest without provocation. The bodyguards threw him into a holding cell, and it was all too familiar. His head spun and he thought he was going to be sick. Not again! he thought, feeling the walls of the cell closing in. I won't go to Azkaban!
He didn't have a good sense of time, so he had no idea how long he was in the tiny holding cell. There was the noise of the outer door opening, and the voice of one of the Aurors saying "Right this way, ma'am. He's in the last cell on the left."
Draco stared at the brunette standing on the other side of the bars, familiar and strange all at once. She looked so similar to Bellatrix, but with brown hair and softer lines on her face. Draco leapt to his feet, immediately recognizing who was standing in front of him. "Aunt Andromeda?"
She smiled at him and nodded. "I was listening to the wireless this morning," she began with a laugh. "It seems as though you didn't quite plan for this eventuality."
He should have been upset that she was laughing at him, but couldn't quite care. "Are you all right?"
Shaking her head, she smiled again, and suddenly Draco wished he had known her growing up. That smile was so much like his mother's, the kind of smile that said Draco was being an idiot but she loved him anyway. Ginny had her own version of that smile, too. Just thinking of her was an ache. Had Ginny heard about the incident over the wireless?
Andromeda grasped the bars of the cell, and Draco saw clearly that neither of her palms were marked with a circle. She was the grandmother of Harry Potter's godson, sister to one of the most fanatical Death Eaters and relative to a slew more.
But it made perfect sense, too. If she was marked, if Teddy Lupin was marked, then Harry would have known about how far the Ministry was going. It would have been more than enough to touch off his savior complex. The Ministry couldn't have that.
"I've posted bail. They charged you with disturbing the peace and creating a riot as well as threatening Minister Hopkirk."
"But I did no such--"
"I know, Draco," Andromeda told him soothingly. "That's why I'm getting you out of here."
"Well, my plan was ruined," Draco said dryly. They paused as an Auror came to unlock the bars, and Draco waited until he was outside of the Ministry jailhouse. "So now what?"
"Now, you go home to your mother and your incredible girlfriend." Andromeda laughed at Draco's startle. "Oh, she and I had a lovely talk this morning after you were seized and no one would say where you were taken. Quite the spitfire you found for yourself."
Draco smiled, thinking of Ginny. "Yeah. She is. She's more than I ever expected to have in life."
Andromeda gave him a hug. "Apparate home, Draco. We're all going to be okay. You'll see."
Draco wished he had her confidence.
***
After the debacle at the public community meeting, the Ministry vowed to make the Marking and Registration efforts more public. That way, they could prove that there was no favoritism in their actions, and that they truly had the best intentions for public safety. Death Eaters were dangerous, the Ministry representatives insisted. They were dangerous and their associates were dangerous. The public was at risk every time a Death Eater was released from Azkaban, every time they were allowed to assemble with their associates. They had to be marked and monitored, registered and followed. They had to be restricted and regulated for the safety of the public.
The next Marking and Registration was scheduled for the following week. Draco intended to attend the public meeting. Ginny had dinner with him and Narcissa every night that week, and she spent the entire weekend with Draco. As much as he had been tempted, he had actually been a gentleman. Ginny had her own guest bedroom, and they never got farther than heavy petting. He complained about the mind numbing inventory work at Flint and Locke's, and she told him about the silly customers that came into the shop. Draco pulled her into his lap, fingers threaded through her hair as she wound her arms around him. He had nothing to offer her, but she didn't seem to care about that. "Things will change," she assured him. "Those charges won't stick, Draco. The Minister obviously wanted to get rid of you."
"I want to see that meeting for myself," Draco told her. "I want to see for myself that they're not doing anything underhanded. I need to see that they're not destroying anyone's lives."
"You think they are," Ginny pointed out. "You all but implied it at that meeting." She couldn't help but grin at Draco. "You got a lot of people talking about this. They never really did before."
"Don't go," Draco murmured. "Please don't. Not yet."
She merely smirked at him. "Think I can't handle a few nasty comments?"
Draco shook his head and let his fingers trail down her spine. "I don't know how the marking goes yet. I haven't asked Flint or Bell or Blaise and his family what it was like, and I wouldn't hurt them by asking. I don't know if it's painful, if it would hurt you. I don't want you hurt any more than necessary for this."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not as delicate as all that, Draco..."
"Just... Let me do something for you." He cupped her face in his hands. "This has to be done right, Ginny. I won't screw things up between us. The time for mistakes is over."
"On that, I absolutely agree," she said with a grin, leaning down for a kiss.
Somehow, it didn't surprise him that she showed up anyway.
There were three men slated to take their curse marks, none of them well known. They were dirty and scarred in places, with rough accents. They had been caught running goods from Knockturn Alley to known Death Eaters or supporters, and were just the type of character that the Ministry had warned the public about. Draco sat in the back of the room, feeling as though he was being gutted. The men were handled roughly, arms grabbed and pinned in place by burly guards so that the curse marks could be applied. They all grimaced, as if it was a painful procedure, and he didn't want to imagine Ginny squirming in pain.
Almost as if he had conjured her, Ginny went forward as the Ministry employees were starting to pack up their things. "I've come forward to be marked," she said in a loud and clear voice.
The employees were confused, not sure what to do. They looked amongst themselves as Ginny extended her right hand, palm up. "Er... Miss Weasley, you're not on the list," one of them offered. The members of the press in the back of the room seemed to perk up; they knew a story was in the making.
"Well, list or no list, I should be marked," Ginny replied easily. "After all, my fiancee is a former Death Eater."
A hush fell over the room. The Ministry employees were startled at the admission, and looked between themselves to try to figure out what to do. In the stillness, the sound of the hall doors swinging open was startlingly loud.
In walked Andromeda Tonks. She was holding Teddy Lupin by the hand; though Draco had never seen the boy before, he didn't imagine that the boy could be anyone else. He had bright turquoise colored hair and amber eyes, and he had a grin that looked like every photograph of Nymphadora Tonks that Draco had seen. "Ah, Ginevra," she said warmly, a smile on her face. Her voice was loud in the quiet room. "Are you here, too? Teddy and I are going to see if they'll allow us to take our marks today, too."
"This is highly irregular," the Ministry employee offered, shaking his head. "You're not on the list to be marked today..."
The door to the room banged open. Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass walked into the room. Neville was a known hero for the Order, and was currently the head of one of the largest herbology research firms. Daphne's older brother had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, but for the wrong side. "We're here to be marked, too," Neville said. Daphne looked around the room and caught Draco's eye. She actually grinned and waved at him. Stunned, he waved back. Marcus Flint and Katie Bell were behind them, and they slipped into the back of the room to observe the proceedings. Marcus smirked at Draco's stunned expression, and Katie gave a stiff nod in his direction.
As if this wasn't strange enough, Ron Weasley walked in next. He held the door open and smiled encouragingly at the person on the other side of the door. Ron extended his hand, and Pansy Parkinson walked in, visibly pregnant. They both nodded at Draco and stood at the back of the queue forming to be marked by unwilling Ministry employees. "Good to see you, Neville," Ron said. "You know, I meant to owl you about work things. Think I would be able to stop by tomorrow at three?"
Neville nodded. "Sounds good." He watched as Daphne and Pansy greeted each other warmly. "Pansy, it looks like you're ready to go any day now."
Pansy nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears. "Oh, yes. And we'll have to come back after the baby's born to get the mark, of course."
Draco merely stared. It was completely bizarre. He had to pinch himself to be sure he was actually awake.
He decided that he must have had a hallucinogen slipped into his breakfast tea. More people made their way into the room, greeting each other as if it was a perfectly ordinary event. Some of them had been part of Dumbledore's Army at school, some had formally joined the Order of the Phoenix. Others were strangers to him but willing to stand in line. Even Mrs. Hopkirk and her five children were standing in line to be marked with the circle curse mark.
Ginny winked at Draco and grinned sweetly at the beleaugered Ministry employee. "I think you need to grab a few friends to get through this line before lunch today. Better get to work," she told him brightly.
Minister Hopkirk arrived about twenty minutes after his wife and children did. "Hester!" he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Mrs. Hopkirk merely gave him a stern look. "Our civic duty, Lawrence. Which you have apparently forgotten."
He grasped her arm. "Hester..."
She shook her head and looked down at the children, ranging in age from five to twelve. "Think of the example you're setting. It's unworthy of you."
Minister Hopkirk was uncomfortable with the comment, especially when it was obvious that the reporters in the room were taking it down word for word. "Hester, we'll discuss it when you get home. I insist that you do so at once."
"I am quite comfortable where I am." She nodded at Ginny. "Can you imagine the future she'll have endure? Or the children from those other young married couples? Oh, no, Lawrence. We'll remain right here." Mrs. Hopkirk gave him an uncomfortable smile. "You may join us. It is, after all, your cousin who is the Death Eater in Azkaban."
Minister Hopkirk blanched, and Draco suppressed the urge to snicker at the beaten look on his face. He remained where he was with his family, however, and Draco thought perhaps it would be poor form to start betting stakes with the reporters whether or not he would actually take the mark. He simply sat back in his seat, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest to enjoy the show.
The uproar was heightened further when Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood came into the room. "Oh dear," Luna remarked looking at the long queue in front of them. "So much for getting the mark on our lunch break. I had no idea the line would be so long."
"I brought lunch today," Harry told her, patting her hand on his arm. "We'll just eat while we wait."
Draco rolled his eyes. It was a showcase opportunity, and Harry missed it. He was so banal, with no sense of style whatsoever. No wonder Ginny didn't want him back.
The crowd grew restless when nothing else was happening in the room. No further Ministry employees coming, and the ones present refusing to mark anyone not on their list. Finally, the Deputy Minister in Charge for the Registry Department arrived. "What's this?" he sputtered, looking around the room. "What's the meaning of this?"
"We're all waiting to receive our curse marks," Ginny told the Minister sweetly. "The man here isn't doing his job. We've been waiting here quite a long time to receive our marks, and there's children and even pregnant women here waiting."
The Minister looked over the crowd again, and noted the reporters taking avid notes. "Well, we're obviously not prepared to do this today. I suggest everyone in the room go home."
"Will there be an emergency session scheduled for tomorrow, then?" Draco called out from his lounging position in the back of the room. "Because it really isn't fair to leave all these good people unmarked. It makes criminals of them under the law as it now stands."
The reporters in the room took this as their cue to begin peppering the Minister with questions. Most leapt to their feet and had their Quick Notes Quills poised to take down every word the Minister said. This whole event was unscripted, so they were sure they would score a few gems for the Wireless programmes or newspapers. Discomfited, the Minister dismissed the entire assembly.
Draco came up to Ginny and pulled her into an embrace. "Fiancee, hm?"
"Did I assume too much?"
"Not at all." He cupped her face in his hands. "I was planning to use my grandmother's ring to propose with."
"I'm sure the plan would have been lovely," Ginny said, grinning at him. "How about we go celebrate the occasion?"
"Is there something to celebrate?"
"Our engagement, impending birth of a new niece or nephew... Pick something."
Draco smiled and slid his arms down her arms until they came to rest at her waist. "Just the two of us, dinner tonight. I'll officially propose then."
Ginny shook her head fondly at him. "Where's the surprise in that?"
"The surprise will be whose bed the evening ends in."
She laughed. "Finally."
Draco found that he really didn't care what would happen with the curse mark legislation. They would likely get rid of it, but even if they didn't, he couldn't be arsed to care. He had Ginny in his life, he was repairing his friendships and he was gainfully employed at a post that would allow him to keep up estate taxes on the Manor. This might not have been the life he had imagined for himself when he had joined the Death Eaters, but it was infinitely better.
And this time around, he was mature enough to enjoy it.
He had a basket with yellow and white roses. There was really only one Wizarding cemetery in all of England, and the older families had their reserved plots or mausoleums. Very few had them on the grounds of their home, though some of the truly ancient Malfoys were in the crypt at the farthest edge of the Manor property. The old crypts were unsafe and crumbling, and sometime in the 1700s it had become a mark of distinction to try to have the gaudiest and most ostentatious mausoleum at the cemetery. In true Malfoy style, theirs was the largest and most easily recognizable one. The Blacks ran a very close second.
Draco stopped by the Crabbe plot. Vincent had been a friend, at least until the Malfoy name had stopped being as influential in Death Eater ranks. Vincent might have stuck with him anyway if he hadn't been a self absorbed prat, if he had tried harder to actually listen to him. Vincent's mother had approached him at his trials, a tiny, sickly wraith of a woman. Draco had thought that she would have condemned Draco for making Vincent join the Death Eaters with him. But the woman had clasped his hand and wished him luck. "I'm just glad you were there with him at the end," she had said. "It's a relief that he didn't die alone."
Vincent's tombstone was marked with a large X over the top of it. Even in death, the Ministry had gotten to him. Even in death, he couldn't simply lie in peace like everyone else. Draco placed a white rose down in front of the stone. "I'm sorry," he murmured, tracing the letters of Vincent's name.
The grass was cold beneath his knees, and the edges of the carved letters were sharp beneath his fingertips. Not enough time had passed to wear away the edges. The large X at the top of the stone was a deep, angry gouge, an ugly reminder that Vincent wasn't acceptable to the current regime.
Draco rose stiffly, leaning on the stone beside Vincent's for balance. He recoiled when he saw that it was Vincent's mother. She had died mere months later, no reason left to go on. She was buried beside her son, next to her husband.
A large circle was carved into the top of her headstone.
Hands shaking with anger, he traced the gouged circle. She had been a sweet woman, a tiny Hufflepuff that had fallen for the charms of Vincent's father. Draco remembered joking with Vincent that he had none of his father's charm and all of his mother's devotion to details and family. He remembered how Vincent flushed with anger at first, until Draco had covered himself and said it was a compliment. Vincent's mother had always included him in her care packages, including a kind word and a tin of homemade biscuits for being one of Vincent's friends.
If he had eaten anything that morning, Draco would have been sick.
Draco put a yellow rose at her headstone, and one for Vincent's father. His X wasn't a shock; he had been a follower in the first war against Voldemort. Vincent had some misguided idea he had to avenge his father's death at the hands of an Order member, and Draco had encouraged it so he wouldn't be alone in his tasks.
He stalked through the rows of headstones at the cemetery, bile and anger rising in equal measure within him. If Ginny stayed with him, if she insisted on being seen with him, this would happen to her someday. The Ministry would gouge a circle onto her headstone, would mark her for future generations to think she was unworthy in some way. He couldn't allow that to happen to her.
It was no surprise to see the X for Bellatrix Lestrange, for the other Lestranges, for Regulus Black. He shouldn't have been surprised by the circles carved into other headstones of vague relations he dimly remembered from the family tapestry. Draco dropped roses wherever he went, yellow and white and some with blood covered thorns where he had clutched them too tightly in his fist. His grandmother had been marked with a circle, even though she was long since dead and had nothing to do with the current war. It looked as though the Ministry had combed through family trees, had gone back at least three generations for every confirmed Death Eater.
Circles and X's gouged into crumbling stone, fresh edges sharp and more easily discernible than the names themselves.
Draco came to a stop in front of the headstone for the Lupins, Remus and Nymphadora - the name "Tonks" carved underneath, set in quotation marks to show it'd been the name she was called. She had been his cousin, not that they had ever spoken.
He hadn't even been aware of her existence until he was fourteen years old and had gone through the Manor attics. Some of his mother's old correspondence was there, and she had been looking through things while searching for something Bellatrix had wanted. She had apparently stopped to read old letters, and that was when Draco had found the letter from Andromeda Tonks telling Narcissa about her baby girl. Draco had never heard his mother mention it before.
After that, he had devoured whatever mention of her he could find, hoping to find out more about the family he had never known about. She was an Auror, and after a while he had been able to figure out she had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix as well. He had seen her talking to Harry Potter once, and it had all clicked into place.
A circle had been carved into the headstone she shared with Remus Lupin.
Cold rage flooded Draco then. This was too much. His cousin was a fucking hero for the other side, dying to serve the Order and their cause, and they still marked her as if she was a common criminal. She had given more than anyone could possibly give, and it meant nothing.
He deposited the rest of his flowers on their graves, his palms riddled with scratches. He left the cemetery, seething.
Something would have to be done. He didn't know what yet, but this could not be borne.
Draco's distaste for Harry Potter was easily overcome by his utter loathing for the Ministry and its bureaucratic bullshit. Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he owled Harry and requested a meeting. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to read in between constantly checking to see if he'd gotten a reply and cursing Harry Potter for being an ill-mannered cretin. Even if the answer was no, etiquette demanded some form of response.
Business hours drew to a close and Draco scowled, resigning himself to waiting at least another day. He was pouring himself a drink when Ginny apparated in, dressed more elegantly than he had seen her. "So? How do I look? And why aren't you ready?"
"Ready for what?" he asked, his heart frozen in his chest as he waited in dread for her response.
"I thought Harry was going to owl you – I guess he got caught up in things once he got back to work." Ginny shrugged, which did nothing to reassure him. "He'd gotten your note just as I delivered some flowers from Luna. We agreed to meet up for dinner, to talk about everything and plan what happens next."
"What in Salazar's name are you talking about?" Draco asked, his voice harsh. "You're not going," he said flatly. He'd risk Potter and even Lovegood, but not Ginny. Never Ginny.
"Of course I'm going," she said, looking at him with surprise. "You're acting as if you're ashamed of me. It's past time you actually took me out somewhere, instead of us always staying home."
"I'm a former fucking Death Eater," Draco replied with his jaw clenched. "People will hate you just for associating with me. You're not going."
"Emphasis on former," Ginny replied, taking hold of his right hand. Her fingers covered the glaring X on the back of his hand easily. "And if they would hate me for that, they're not worth knowing anyway."
Draco pulled his hand away from her. "No. You're not going to destroy your life like this."
"Draco, you're being unreasonable..."
"Stop it," he snarled, lip curling the way it used to when he teased her or her brother at school. "You don't understand what it's going to be like for you. Your business will die. You won't have any friends. You'll be isolated and stared at and mocked. You're going to be marked, you're going to be shunned, and you have no fucking idea what that's like, no clue what you're getting into."
He was shaking her by now, his grip bruising her shoulders until she broke away from him. "You're being a self centered arse! Has it ever occurred to you that I know all this? That I can make choices of my own?"
"You won't be reasonable about this," he said, feeling a sick despair rising in his throat. "You're going to be a fucking Gryffindor and turn this into some kind of crusade."
"So? You're worth that."
"You're not listening!" Draco rubbed his hands over his face, trying to calm down. "Why are you the only one who can make choices? Why can't I say anything about what I want and have you pay attention?"
Poking him in the chest, she said, "I'd listen to you if you talked sense. I'm a capable witch in my own right, I fought in the war, and—"
"And you're too fucking stubborn to live!" He shook her again, practically nose to nose as he glared at her. "What's so bloody hard to understand about my wanting to protect the woman I love from paying for my fucking crimes?"
Ginny had opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as his words sank in. "Draco?"
They were both silent for a moment, his words hanging in the air between them, and he felt the fire of anger ebbing, leaving him empty and cold. "I couldn't bear it if you hated me because of what they will do to you if they know I love you."
"You love me?" she asked, looking stunned. She stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him with a tender expression. She smiled suddenly, as if everything made sense. "I love you, too, Draco. That's why I want to do this. Not just because it's the right thing to do, but because I want to be able to go out and do things with you. I don't want you acting as if you're ashamed of me, as if we have to hide what this is."
He closed a hand over one of hers. "I don't want you hurt," he murmured. "They're vicious and cruel and they want to break everyone. If anything happened to you, I don't know how I'd recover. I've only been able to get this far because of you."
"But this isn't your choice," Ginny said firmly. "This is mine. You can't take it away from me. That's just as demeaning as those marks are."
Draco sighed and cupped her face with his hand. "I don't want this to be something you'll regret," he told her softly.
"Never," she told him with a smile. She pressed her palm against his cheek. "We'll work this out together. I promise, it's going to be all right."
"I'm holding you to it," Draco said, pulling her tight against him. He bent down and kissed her, hoping this was the right thing. He had to take the chance that she really wouldn't have regrets, that she really was strong enough to hold up under the strain it would produce. "Let's go to dinner."
The restaurant was posh, the maitre d' haughty, the waitstaff fidgety and the food delicious. Potter was somewhat awkward, less an impossibly important or lofty figure and more a young man caught up in things outside of his control. Draco couldn't help but wince when he mangled the pronunciation of the wine he peremptorily ordered for the table, and seized hold of his dinner fork to eat his salad. Draco tried to point out the obvious, but Luna merely smiled at Harry and picked up the same fork on her own place setting.
"Why bow to convention?" Luna asked sweetly. "I never did understand the fuss about what kind of fork to use with which part of the meal. The food all goes to the same place, after all, and forks don't alter your enjoyment of the meal. It would be a great deal of difference in which part of a whittled blacksnake you want to eat, but even then I'm sure it wouldn't matter overmuch."
With his usual lack of grace, Harry started talking over the entree. "So what did you want to talk about when you owled me?" he asked.
Draco sighed. There was no point in subtlety with this one, he supposed. He simply had never learned it and didn't know any better, and everyone around him was indulging him. "These marks," he began slowly, reaching out to grasp his wine glass. The wine didn't match his entree at all, and it didn't have very good legs. Still, it wasn't a completely shoddy wine choice. "They're in the cemetery, on the headstones."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Have you visited the cemetery at all?" Draco asked him, gaze sharp. The other man shook his head, confused. "They put these marks on the graves of the dead. Everyone, three generations back, more in some places. They're not always accurate, either."
Harry had gone very, very still with Draco's words. "I wasn't aware of that," he said finally.
"The memorial for Sirius Black has one," Draco told him. He watched Harry flinch without any degree of pleasure. He would have cheerfully throttled someone back at Hogwarts to be able to do this to Harry, but now it was hollow. It meant nothing, and it only caused the other man pain. "They need to be stopped," Draco said simply.
"I should tell them," Harry said, nodding his head decisively. "They'll listen to me, I'm sure. They listen better now than before."
Without the house rivalry and the continual feelings of rejection and frustration, Draco could see that Harry was an average sort of bloke. He wasn't particularly nasty or special or even all that bright, and Draco felt as though some of his old hate simply drained away. What was there to hate? Harry seemed genuinely happy with Luna Lovegood, pleased with his work as an Unspeakable and frustrated with his attempts to make the Ministry a better place. He was still somewhat idealistic, despite knowing full well how twisted the Ministry employees could be.
"Potter," Draco began, making sure his voice carried no trace of the derision he felt toward the Ministry. "That isn't going to work."
"Why not?" he asked, getting defensive. "It's not as bad as it was five years ago. I wouldn't work for them if it was."
"No offense, but you're the fucking Boy Who Lived. You saved their collective asses more times than you should have. Of course they'd be nice to you! Someone like me, someone with this kind of a mark, and all I'd get is hatred. They're getting revenge, Potter. They're trying to isolate us, have us kill ourselves off, something. They don't want us about, they don't want us mixing in with the rest of the unsullied masses. That's what they want, and it's never going to be some kind of ideal world you think it should be."
"No ideal world would be a place I want to live in," Luna replied when Harry was unable to speak. "Being afraid to love someone isn't ideal, and neither is being afraid to lose. That's the way of things." She looked at Draco, her gaze frighteningly sharp for a moment. "So what are you going to do about this?"
Draco could feel Ginny's hand on his knee, and she gave him a soft squeeze of support. He dropped his hand to cover hers, fingers on top of his. She made her choice to be with him. They both knew what that meant, and he had to rise to the occasion. "We need to prove that they're wrong. We need to change them from the inside out."
"How far are they going with friendships and relations?" Harry asked, brows knit in thought. He was absently rubbing the side of his hand, looking more disturbed than Draco thought possible.
"Judging by the cemetery? Three or four generations of relations, any known close associates, all extended family." He paused. "Didn't you see what they did to Lupin's stone? Weren't you close with him?"
Harry startled almost violently. "They did what?"
"They marked it with a circle. Nymphadora was my cousin; she had several aunts and uncles as Death Eaters." Draco took in Harry's expression, focused on something distant and unseen. "What are you thinking, Potter?"
"Most of the Wizarding World is all intermarried."
"Especially if you look at Pureblood families," Ginny murmured, finally getting into the conversation. "There are even Prewetts and Malfoys or Blacks intermarrying several generations back."
"So where does it end?" Harry asked.
"That's rather why I asked to discuss the topic, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry blinked at the sound of his voice, and for a moment Draco thought he would have to be on the lookout for Ron Weasley to try to throw a punch. But the only ginger at the table was Ginny, and she was smirking at the comment right along with Draco.
"It has to stop. Someone's gone nutters with the marking, and it's going to ruin us all." Ginny finished off her entree with a flourish. Draco was pleased to notice that she had used the correct cutlery all throughout dinner so far, and hadn't guzzled the wine, either. "They ignore petitions if they're not popular causes. I don't think that's the way to go."
"Do you have any friends in the legislature?" Draco asked Harry.
He seemed stymied for a moment, but Luna smiled. "I have many friends and associates. I am, after all, the one of the Undersecretaries to the Minister of Magic. I can get you an audience with Minister Hopkirk, if you'd like. He's quite reasonable."
"Of course he is," Draco replied, managing to keep a straight face. "He employs you, doesn't he?"
Luna smiled at him and turned to Harry. "See? Perfectly reasonable fellow. Nothing to worry about at all."
Ginny managed to cover her snicker with a cough. Harry shot her a look, but nodded at Luna. "But I don't see how meeting Hopkirk would help you in the long run. If we all show up and refuse to take the mark..."
"They'd expect that kind of thing," Ginny told Harry. "And they wouldn't give it to us anyway. How would it look for their hero to be associating with Death Eaters to the point of taking a mark on his hand?"
Draco smiled. "I think you should take it, Potter. Show them that even their great hero consorts with the enemy."
Luna snorted before Harry could even open his mouth to protest. "I'm the only one he consorts with, and there's no need to add a third to our relationship right now. I keep Harry very satisfied, thank you."
The table fell silent. Luna was smiling and Harry was mortified. Ginny and Draco looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing. They couldn't help it. "What I meant," Draco began when he got his breath back, "was that he thinks Death Eaters can still be worthy of friendship."
"Of course they are!" Luna replied, just as Harry glowered at Draco and said "I'm starting to rethink that idea..."
"It's a wonderful idea," Ginny said with a nod. "And I'll help you look up Hopkirk's family tree." She grinned at Draco's start of surprise. "If a Prewett and a Black can marry, I wonder who married a Hopkirk."
It turned out to be a Rookwood that had married a Hopkirk, exactly three generations past, though the current Minister Hopkirk wasn't a descendant of that marriage. Augustus Rookwood was, however, and that made Augustus Rookwood and the current Minister Hopkirk were cousins, and he therefore was closely related enough to have to take the circle curse mark.
Luna had arranged for Draco to show up to a public meeting that Minister Hopkirk was holding with various community leaders. They talked about Muggleborns not appropriately holding the old parks in high enough reverence, graffiti along Knockturn Alley and then the conversation circled to the former Death Eaters actually trying to obtain jobs to comply with their parole requirements. Draco had initially been surprised to hear that there were others who had been released after five years, and still more slated to be released in another five to ten years. One of the community center owners lamented about the number of marked individuals coming into his center every day.
"This isn't a terribly fair practice, is it?" Draco pointed out to the group politely, interrupting the Minister's reply. Heads turned, taking in who had spoken. Some of the crowd edged away from him, not wanting to sit next to the former Death Eater in their midst.
"What are you doing here?" the Minister replied, face pale. Did the man think that Draco was going to do something untoward there?
"I'm part of the community," Draco replied, looking at him with a placid expression. "I'm concerned about this practice of marking all the relatives and associates of former Death Eaters, however."
"Of course you would be--" someone began to say nastily.
"I was paying my respects to the dead, and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin and her husband Remus Lupin were marked," Draco said, talking over the other man. "They were Order members. They gave their lives to protect everyone in this room, and they're marked as if they had done something horrible."
The Minister looked uncomfortable. "Now, see here, there are reasons for these practices..."
"I realize that you can't exactly repeal this practice on your own. But I'm sure that other such alliances, however unintentional, also exist. I'm concerned about that."
Minister Hopkirk looked vaguely ill. "I'm sorry, young man. You seem to mistaken," he said firmly, shaking his head.
"Isn't Augustus Rookwood your cousin?" Draco asked politely.
Minister Hopkirk sputtered uselessly, and some of the crowd began to yell. They seemed to be divided on the matter, but all seemed to agree that they thought Draco Malfoy was a rabble rouser and a dirty Death Eater that should return to Azkaban. Minister Hopkirk looked to his bodyguards, and they moved at once. Draco was seized by two of them, and the third held a wand right in front of his nose. He lofted an eyebrow at that third bodyguard; what could he do with both arms firmly grasped at his side? "Is something the matter?" he asked calmly, though his heart hammered in his chest. Azkaban was the last place he wanted to go to. Five years had been more than enough.
He was dragged out of the meeting room, and there was so much yelling he couldn't tell what upset everyone the most-- his veiled accusations or the unceremonious arrest without provocation. The bodyguards threw him into a holding cell, and it was all too familiar. His head spun and he thought he was going to be sick. Not again! he thought, feeling the walls of the cell closing in. I won't go to Azkaban!
He didn't have a good sense of time, so he had no idea how long he was in the tiny holding cell. There was the noise of the outer door opening, and the voice of one of the Aurors saying "Right this way, ma'am. He's in the last cell on the left."
Draco stared at the brunette standing on the other side of the bars, familiar and strange all at once. She looked so similar to Bellatrix, but with brown hair and softer lines on her face. Draco leapt to his feet, immediately recognizing who was standing in front of him. "Aunt Andromeda?"
She smiled at him and nodded. "I was listening to the wireless this morning," she began with a laugh. "It seems as though you didn't quite plan for this eventuality."
He should have been upset that she was laughing at him, but couldn't quite care. "Are you all right?"
Shaking her head, she smiled again, and suddenly Draco wished he had known her growing up. That smile was so much like his mother's, the kind of smile that said Draco was being an idiot but she loved him anyway. Ginny had her own version of that smile, too. Just thinking of her was an ache. Had Ginny heard about the incident over the wireless?
Andromeda grasped the bars of the cell, and Draco saw clearly that neither of her palms were marked with a circle. She was the grandmother of Harry Potter's godson, sister to one of the most fanatical Death Eaters and relative to a slew more.
But it made perfect sense, too. If she was marked, if Teddy Lupin was marked, then Harry would have known about how far the Ministry was going. It would have been more than enough to touch off his savior complex. The Ministry couldn't have that.
"I've posted bail. They charged you with disturbing the peace and creating a riot as well as threatening Minister Hopkirk."
"But I did no such--"
"I know, Draco," Andromeda told him soothingly. "That's why I'm getting you out of here."
"Well, my plan was ruined," Draco said dryly. They paused as an Auror came to unlock the bars, and Draco waited until he was outside of the Ministry jailhouse. "So now what?"
"Now, you go home to your mother and your incredible girlfriend." Andromeda laughed at Draco's startle. "Oh, she and I had a lovely talk this morning after you were seized and no one would say where you were taken. Quite the spitfire you found for yourself."
Draco smiled, thinking of Ginny. "Yeah. She is. She's more than I ever expected to have in life."
Andromeda gave him a hug. "Apparate home, Draco. We're all going to be okay. You'll see."
Draco wished he had her confidence.
After the debacle at the public community meeting, the Ministry vowed to make the Marking and Registration efforts more public. That way, they could prove that there was no favoritism in their actions, and that they truly had the best intentions for public safety. Death Eaters were dangerous, the Ministry representatives insisted. They were dangerous and their associates were dangerous. The public was at risk every time a Death Eater was released from Azkaban, every time they were allowed to assemble with their associates. They had to be marked and monitored, registered and followed. They had to be restricted and regulated for the safety of the public.
The next Marking and Registration was scheduled for the following week. Draco intended to attend the public meeting. Ginny had dinner with him and Narcissa every night that week, and she spent the entire weekend with Draco. As much as he had been tempted, he had actually been a gentleman. Ginny had her own guest bedroom, and they never got farther than heavy petting. He complained about the mind numbing inventory work at Flint and Locke's, and she told him about the silly customers that came into the shop. Draco pulled her into his lap, fingers threaded through her hair as she wound her arms around him. He had nothing to offer her, but she didn't seem to care about that. "Things will change," she assured him. "Those charges won't stick, Draco. The Minister obviously wanted to get rid of you."
"I want to see that meeting for myself," Draco told her. "I want to see for myself that they're not doing anything underhanded. I need to see that they're not destroying anyone's lives."
"You think they are," Ginny pointed out. "You all but implied it at that meeting." She couldn't help but grin at Draco. "You got a lot of people talking about this. They never really did before."
"Don't go," Draco murmured. "Please don't. Not yet."
She merely smirked at him. "Think I can't handle a few nasty comments?"
Draco shook his head and let his fingers trail down her spine. "I don't know how the marking goes yet. I haven't asked Flint or Bell or Blaise and his family what it was like, and I wouldn't hurt them by asking. I don't know if it's painful, if it would hurt you. I don't want you hurt any more than necessary for this."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not as delicate as all that, Draco..."
"Just... Let me do something for you." He cupped her face in his hands. "This has to be done right, Ginny. I won't screw things up between us. The time for mistakes is over."
"On that, I absolutely agree," she said with a grin, leaning down for a kiss.
Somehow, it didn't surprise him that she showed up anyway.
There were three men slated to take their curse marks, none of them well known. They were dirty and scarred in places, with rough accents. They had been caught running goods from Knockturn Alley to known Death Eaters or supporters, and were just the type of character that the Ministry had warned the public about. Draco sat in the back of the room, feeling as though he was being gutted. The men were handled roughly, arms grabbed and pinned in place by burly guards so that the curse marks could be applied. They all grimaced, as if it was a painful procedure, and he didn't want to imagine Ginny squirming in pain.
Almost as if he had conjured her, Ginny went forward as the Ministry employees were starting to pack up their things. "I've come forward to be marked," she said in a loud and clear voice.
The employees were confused, not sure what to do. They looked amongst themselves as Ginny extended her right hand, palm up. "Er... Miss Weasley, you're not on the list," one of them offered. The members of the press in the back of the room seemed to perk up; they knew a story was in the making.
"Well, list or no list, I should be marked," Ginny replied easily. "After all, my fiancee is a former Death Eater."
A hush fell over the room. The Ministry employees were startled at the admission, and looked between themselves to try to figure out what to do. In the stillness, the sound of the hall doors swinging open was startlingly loud.
In walked Andromeda Tonks. She was holding Teddy Lupin by the hand; though Draco had never seen the boy before, he didn't imagine that the boy could be anyone else. He had bright turquoise colored hair and amber eyes, and he had a grin that looked like every photograph of Nymphadora Tonks that Draco had seen. "Ah, Ginevra," she said warmly, a smile on her face. Her voice was loud in the quiet room. "Are you here, too? Teddy and I are going to see if they'll allow us to take our marks today, too."
"This is highly irregular," the Ministry employee offered, shaking his head. "You're not on the list to be marked today..."
The door to the room banged open. Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass walked into the room. Neville was a known hero for the Order, and was currently the head of one of the largest herbology research firms. Daphne's older brother had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, but for the wrong side. "We're here to be marked, too," Neville said. Daphne looked around the room and caught Draco's eye. She actually grinned and waved at him. Stunned, he waved back. Marcus Flint and Katie Bell were behind them, and they slipped into the back of the room to observe the proceedings. Marcus smirked at Draco's stunned expression, and Katie gave a stiff nod in his direction.
As if this wasn't strange enough, Ron Weasley walked in next. He held the door open and smiled encouragingly at the person on the other side of the door. Ron extended his hand, and Pansy Parkinson walked in, visibly pregnant. They both nodded at Draco and stood at the back of the queue forming to be marked by unwilling Ministry employees. "Good to see you, Neville," Ron said. "You know, I meant to owl you about work things. Think I would be able to stop by tomorrow at three?"
Neville nodded. "Sounds good." He watched as Daphne and Pansy greeted each other warmly. "Pansy, it looks like you're ready to go any day now."
Pansy nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears. "Oh, yes. And we'll have to come back after the baby's born to get the mark, of course."
Draco merely stared. It was completely bizarre. He had to pinch himself to be sure he was actually awake.
He decided that he must have had a hallucinogen slipped into his breakfast tea. More people made their way into the room, greeting each other as if it was a perfectly ordinary event. Some of them had been part of Dumbledore's Army at school, some had formally joined the Order of the Phoenix. Others were strangers to him but willing to stand in line. Even Mrs. Hopkirk and her five children were standing in line to be marked with the circle curse mark.
Ginny winked at Draco and grinned sweetly at the beleaugered Ministry employee. "I think you need to grab a few friends to get through this line before lunch today. Better get to work," she told him brightly.
Minister Hopkirk arrived about twenty minutes after his wife and children did. "Hester!" he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Mrs. Hopkirk merely gave him a stern look. "Our civic duty, Lawrence. Which you have apparently forgotten."
He grasped her arm. "Hester..."
She shook her head and looked down at the children, ranging in age from five to twelve. "Think of the example you're setting. It's unworthy of you."
Minister Hopkirk was uncomfortable with the comment, especially when it was obvious that the reporters in the room were taking it down word for word. "Hester, we'll discuss it when you get home. I insist that you do so at once."
"I am quite comfortable where I am." She nodded at Ginny. "Can you imagine the future she'll have endure? Or the children from those other young married couples? Oh, no, Lawrence. We'll remain right here." Mrs. Hopkirk gave him an uncomfortable smile. "You may join us. It is, after all, your cousin who is the Death Eater in Azkaban."
Minister Hopkirk blanched, and Draco suppressed the urge to snicker at the beaten look on his face. He remained where he was with his family, however, and Draco thought perhaps it would be poor form to start betting stakes with the reporters whether or not he would actually take the mark. He simply sat back in his seat, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest to enjoy the show.
The uproar was heightened further when Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood came into the room. "Oh dear," Luna remarked looking at the long queue in front of them. "So much for getting the mark on our lunch break. I had no idea the line would be so long."
"I brought lunch today," Harry told her, patting her hand on his arm. "We'll just eat while we wait."
Draco rolled his eyes. It was a showcase opportunity, and Harry missed it. He was so banal, with no sense of style whatsoever. No wonder Ginny didn't want him back.
The crowd grew restless when nothing else was happening in the room. No further Ministry employees coming, and the ones present refusing to mark anyone not on their list. Finally, the Deputy Minister in Charge for the Registry Department arrived. "What's this?" he sputtered, looking around the room. "What's the meaning of this?"
"We're all waiting to receive our curse marks," Ginny told the Minister sweetly. "The man here isn't doing his job. We've been waiting here quite a long time to receive our marks, and there's children and even pregnant women here waiting."
The Minister looked over the crowd again, and noted the reporters taking avid notes. "Well, we're obviously not prepared to do this today. I suggest everyone in the room go home."
"Will there be an emergency session scheduled for tomorrow, then?" Draco called out from his lounging position in the back of the room. "Because it really isn't fair to leave all these good people unmarked. It makes criminals of them under the law as it now stands."
The reporters in the room took this as their cue to begin peppering the Minister with questions. Most leapt to their feet and had their Quick Notes Quills poised to take down every word the Minister said. This whole event was unscripted, so they were sure they would score a few gems for the Wireless programmes or newspapers. Discomfited, the Minister dismissed the entire assembly.
Draco came up to Ginny and pulled her into an embrace. "Fiancee, hm?"
"Did I assume too much?"
"Not at all." He cupped her face in his hands. "I was planning to use my grandmother's ring to propose with."
"I'm sure the plan would have been lovely," Ginny said, grinning at him. "How about we go celebrate the occasion?"
"Is there something to celebrate?"
"Our engagement, impending birth of a new niece or nephew... Pick something."
Draco smiled and slid his arms down her arms until they came to rest at her waist. "Just the two of us, dinner tonight. I'll officially propose then."
Ginny shook her head fondly at him. "Where's the surprise in that?"
"The surprise will be whose bed the evening ends in."
She laughed. "Finally."
Draco found that he really didn't care what would happen with the curse mark legislation. They would likely get rid of it, but even if they didn't, he couldn't be arsed to care. He had Ginny in his life, he was repairing his friendships and he was gainfully employed at a post that would allow him to keep up estate taxes on the Manor. This might not have been the life he had imagined for himself when he had joined the Death Eaters, but it was infinitely better.
And this time around, he was mature enough to enjoy it.
The End.
Eustacia Vye is the author of 37 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 16 members. Members who liked Sharing Penance also liked 650 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 16 members. Members who liked Sharing Penance also liked 650 other stories.
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