6

Hermione was no fool. She'd heard the whole bit about how Draco had known Ginny was alive for four years without telling anyone. But while she didn't quite understand the reasoning that made it okay, all-in-all, she was plain overjoyed to have her best friend back. Which meant she'd forgive the one who brought her back of just about anything. And she'd gladly keep their secret, if that was what it took for a happy reunion. Hermione even looked up an abandoned fortress that would serve as a more appropriate location for Ginny's lie.

But as such, no one knew why Hermione had asked Mrs. Weasley to call a meeting of the entire family at the Burrow. Charlie sent a letter saying he couldn't make it, but Hermione sent one right back saying that yes, he could. Whatever else it was, she guaranteed it wasn't important enough to keep him away.

So that Sunday, the Burrow was crammed to bursting with redheads, spouses, and rambunctious children.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley prodded once everyone was settled in the living room, "what was it you needed to tell us so urgently?"

Hermione looked around the room. Ron, angry at being left out, sulked next to Charlie, whose fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. Hermione just grinned. "Not everyone has arrived yet." She stuck her head out the front door. "Draco?"

He stepped into the room, beaming. An overwhelmed and nervous looking redhead adorned his arm.

A moment of stunned silence—then pandemonium exploded.

Mrs. Weasley fainted.

.                            .                            .

"So this is what you Rebels have been up to," a boy sneered. His brown hair lay limply against his forehead. An identical 'I.S.' badge gleamed from his robes.

The redheaded girl backed away from the Carrows' office door, terrified defiance playing across her face. Off in the distance, footsteps approached.

The brown-haired boy laughed. "You should be used to this by now. I'm sure Amycus will have plenty of pleasantries in store for you, after all that Order propaganda you permanently glued to his classroom." The footsteps sounded louder, at a run. The brown-haired boy grinned wickedly. "Deten—"

"Stupefy!"

The jet of light smashed into the brown-haired boy. He crumpled against the far wall.

Shocked, the redhead turned. The blond boy stood in the doorway, hands braced against his thighs as he panted, wand protruding from his hand. The girl and the boy stared at each other, neither sure which of them was more surprised.

"Detention," the blond boy said once he had his breath back and left as abruptly as he had entered.

.                            .                            .

Ginny was pulled out of a conversation with George by a tug on the hem of her robe. She turned to see a little girl about 7—the traditional red hair and freckles, but with bright blue eyes—staring up at her.

"And what's your name?" Ginny asked.

The girl grinned. "I'm Ginevra Hannah Weasley. Daddy says you're my aunt."

Ginny swallowed around a lump in her throat. "You're Charlie's girl?"

She nodded. "Yep! Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure. What?"

She motioned for Ginny to come closer, so Ginny crouched down until her ear was at the girl's level. "Uncle Dwaco's my favorite uncle. Out of all of them!"

Ginny laughed. "Well, good. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that."

Her niece let out an exasperated sigh. "I've already told him. I just wanna know how soon he'll be my real uncle, insteada my sorta-uncle."

"What do you mean?"

"Daddy said Uncle Dwaco an' Uncle Remus are sorta-uncles while Uncle Ron an' them are real uncles."

Ginny turned a puzzled look to George, who was still watching the exchange with amusement.

"You know you were engaged to Draco before you…uh…died, right?" George explained.

"I had no idea." Ginny shot a look at Draco, laughing with Charlie, both clutching butterbeers. "He never even mentioned it."

George chuckled. "I guess it's hilarious, looking back now. Both families nearly disowned you guys. After you died, we felt guilty, even if the Malfoys didn't. And your little Draco, well…" George sighed, looking surprisingly serious. "We missed you so much, Gin. And while Malfoy wasn't you, he loved you nearly as much as we did." George shrugged. "Mostly Mum felt sorry for him. And which of us was going to tell her 'no'?"

The last pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Engaged. To Draco Malfoy. Her bird, who had sat with her every day for the past four years. Engaged.

Draco caught her staring, grey eyes meeting hers across the room. Ginny waited for him to look away, but he kept drinking in the sight of her. She walked over, not breaking eye contact until she was next to him.

"You'll have to excuse me," Ginny turned to her family, "but re-meeting all of you has been exhausting and I need to lie down." She looked at her once-fiancé. "Draco? Could you take me home?"

He stood, offering her his arm. "Of course," he whispered.

.                            .                            .

The redheaded girl stood amidst a crowd of children her age, all gathered outside a door. A man with black robes and greasy black hair strode through their midst and the students milled behind him, preparing to enter.

"Professor!" The brown-haired boy from before called to the man. "Malfoy shot me when I was giving detention to Weasley! You can't let him get away with this!"

The man turned, raising an eyebrow. "Does she still have detention?"

"Yeah, but it's with Malfoy, not Amycus. He's mad. I—"

"Amycus's petty squabbles and Malfoy's apparent dislike of you are not my concern. I will take points if you bother me again, Nott."

Next to the redhead, a student raised an eyebrow at her. The redhead shrugged, trying to pretend she didn't know—as a smile twitched at her lips.