chapter 3
Ginny Weasley hugged her friends goodbye and looked about for where her family was. She doubted her mom would be there. Since her dad had become Minister of Magic, her mother was busy as could be, and often had the older boys go help out on family things. And, sure enough, over to one side, leaning against a column, was one of the twins. "Hey, Gin-gersnap," he said, "How was the trip?"
Close up, she could see it was George. "Oh, fine, George. Where's Mum?" Despite the fact that she'd not expected her to be there, she felt a little disappointed not to see her there.
George shook his head. "I'm not sure. I got a floo today asking me if one of us could come down and collect you off the train and see you to the Burrow. So I said I would....Fred had a meeting with one of our suppliers...and, here I am, at your service, fair maiden." And with a twinkle in his eye, he made her a lovely bow and tapped her trunk with his wand. It immediately shrunk, and he handed it to her to put in her pocket. She did, with a grin, and took his offered arm, accompanying him off the platform and over to the side, where they could Apparate home.
For all of George's complicity in truly horrifically amazing stunts over the years, he was very very careful on the things that mattered. Not surprisingly, he was the one who tended to work the bugs out of the inventions for their shop, and unlike his ten-minutes-older brother, he had passed his Apparation test the first time he tried. With a soft pop, they were standing outside the Burrow.
"Identification, please," said a tall, sunburnt young man in official robes.
"George...." Ginny said, looking at her brother.
But just as things began to look difficult, an older man came up. "Ah, brought Ginny home for the summer I see. Although I don't know which one you are," he said, with a kind twinkle. "Go on, dear," he said with a swish of his wand. She could very nearly see the wards opening up for her. "I'm sure you're tired after the trip down," he commented, and bent towards the younger man and delivered a furious lecture that was mostly unintelligable to George and Ginny. She shrugged, turned, and went on into the house...and stopped dead in her tracks.
Instead of the shabby but comfortable furniture that she was used to, the house shone with smart new pieces. There was new carpet down on the floor, and the kitchen had been redone too, with a shiny red Aga that bore the unmistakeable shimmer of enchanting. The staircase was, at least, in the same place, although it too had been redone and no longer creaked. She went up it, half dreading what she was going to find.
But the upstairs had only been partly done. The walls of the hall had been repainted, and the doors refinished, and she could see that the bathroom was redone. She smiled at that. That had needed redoing for years. Perhaps now the tub didn't leak. Although, she had happy memories of chatting with her mother while her mother reenchanted the tub for her bath. In its own way it had been "their" time, one on one. Her bedroom, at least, remained the same. Ginny was glad.
She said goodbye to George, un-shrunk her trunk, and put things away before shoving the trunk behind the door, and changing into shorts and a t-shirt. Or, at least, she thought she was going to.
"Honey, you really don't want to wear that out," the mirror said, and she stopped and looked. Oh, my. She HAD grown, hadn't she? Whoops. Better correct that. A few swishes and flicks altered the clothing to fit her, and she headed downstairs for a nice ramble around the Burrow's grounds, since her mom wasn't home.
Except, apparently, in the time she'd been upstairs, her mum had come in. "Ginny!" she said delightedly. "Oh, let me LOOK at you! You've grown so much, I hardly would have known you. Did George behave himself?"
"Yes, he did, Mum. Carried my trunk for me and all."
"Good," she said, looking her daughter over. "We have -got- to get you some new clothes."
"Today?!" Ginny yelped.
"Oh, not today, I don't have time. But we can go tomorrow, I think..." She checked a day planner, and nodded in satisfaction. "There, you're in. I have been so busy since your dad got elected, I just can't think straight. But you're home. Oh, and where's Ron?"
"I think he went home with Hermione for a bit," she said, "and Harry too. They were going to say goodbye in a more quiet way. You know she's going off for a summer internship at Stonehenge next week."
"Well, that's fine," Molly said. "Did he say when he was coming in?"
Ginny shook her head. Her mother sighed.
"Well, I'll catch him tomorrow. You two need location charms."
"Location charms?" Ginny's voice was incredulous.
"Well, now that you aren't at Hogwarts, you'll need protecting. With that, the Aurors on duty will know where you are and be able to see if you're in danger."
"Mum, I'm seventeen. Surely you don't need to have someone magically observing me, um, ALL the time..." she protested. Thoughts of unrelated male aurors knowing exactly what she was doing after lights out made her blush.
"Oh, come on, Mum," said Ron's voice, followed closely by Ron himself. He was wearing a Chudley Cannons t-shirt and jeans, and there was a trunk-shaped bulge in one pocket. "We're nearly grown. I have no intentions beyond going to work (he already had a job in Magical Artifacts lined up), coming home, and going down to the pub. I'll happily let you tag me for mortal peril, but anything more...no. I'm a big boy."
And he walked in and gave his mother a hug. Perhaps it was the fact that he was now four inches taller than his mum that did it, or the fact that his voice had turned out a good firm baritone. But she sighed, hugged him back, and said, "All right, luv. I trust you."
"And," he said, "give Gin -some- privacy, all right?"
"I'm sorry," his mother said firmly, "but as they told me, we have to give up some privacy for security. I'll see if there's someone on duty to set it."
Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. Gaah!
"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," said a voice. "I'll leave Marston here and come in and take care of it."
The voice was female, and the Auror who walked in was a rangy young woman in her mid-twenties or so, who looked competent and tough.
"I remember you, Ron," she said. "I graduated in your first year. Did you consider taking a job with us? Anyone who can take out a mountain troll at eleven is okay by me."
He shook her hand, and grinned. "It was a joint effort, actually, and we didn't know we shouldn't be able to do it, really."
"Pure dumb luck," she said, shaking her head. "I bet you've got a lot of stories."
Ginny found herself grinning as her brother began the first few steps of chatting up the Auror. Or had she started on him, first? Her mother shot Ron a look, and he said, "Um, look, let's meet down at the pub sometime when we both have time off."
"Well. Telltale for mortal peril, is it?" she said, and moved Ron out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, around the corner. There was a red glow, and then Ron came out, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Your turn, Gin," he said, and sat down and engaged their mother in conversation.
Ginny walked with leaden feet towards the end of the room where the Auror waited for her.
"Hey, Ginny," said the Auror. "I'm Susan. Now, I know what your mum says she wants."
"Yeah..." Ginny's voice was listless.
"But, you know, you strike me as a girl with good sense. So I'm going to put the same thing on you that I put on your brother. I think you understand that your dad's job means some yobbo might try to grab you, and not to take stupid risks."
Ginny could have kissed her. "Oh, I know that. I've been friends with Harry Potter, you know."
"There is that," the Auror said, and set the spell, then winked. "And not a word to your mum. I had a mum like that, too."
When Ginny finally headed out to her favorite spot, underneath a large tree in a grove that was invisible from the house, she traded grins with the Auror and enjoyed the feeling of quiet conspiracy. But the land at least was the same, and she dozed happily on the cool grass listening to the stream murmuring the same song it had every summer. Some things, at least, were still the same.
Draco Malfoy stood up from his chair with a sigh. He was bored. He had forgotten exactly how piercingly dull it could be at home. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew he was going to Paris in the fall (the fact that he spoke French fluently had tipped the balance there), or the fact that he was rather between phases of his life. It wasn't just the boredom...there was an inner restlessness. He searched in dreams. He found himself wandering the house, as if looking for something, but he didn't know what.
But he felt the boredom evaporate as his father walked into the room. Immediately, he felt alert. His father had sought him out, and his father wouldn't do that for no reason at all.
His father sat down across from him, crossing his legs and leaning back. A casual talk, then.
"Draco, you are undoubtedly aware of the tensions that exist between our family and the Ministry, are you not?"
"Father, it would take a dead man to be unaware...and I'll wager it would even reach them."
His father gave a brief laugh in answer. "We are hosting a reception for the ministry, at which I will proceed to donate money to a fund for training Aurors in techniques that counter dark magic. Enough money to set up a proper program, in fact. I know that it is a lack that our new Minister of Magic has been decrying for years."
Draco and his father both bore identical expressions on their face. With the defeat of Voldemort, Cornelius Fudge had been taken from the Ministry to Azkaban, and was now reposing miserably in a cell. As a gesture of housecleaning, Arthur Weasley had been elected in his place. However, what had started as a gesture had become a true purging of the various elements in the ministry, and this had posed a few problems for the Malfoy interests, which had a long history of owning a few well-placed people in the Ministry. A longstanding enmity between Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy didn't help matters.
"So....what do you want me to do?" Draco asked, turning his attentions to the practicalities.
His father smiled. "Be my heir. Young, handsome, up-and-coming. Your apprenticeship with Fouinon in Paris this fall and your NEWTS will speak well for you, as will your knowledge and wit."
"Ah, yes, I know the game," said Draco, nodding. "In that case, I need to go to Diagon Alley."
"I'll come with you," said his father. "Image isn't everything, but it's important. And I have an image I wish you to project. My normal image is the old blood. You are to show that old blood does not mean slow blood."
"My tastes?"
"Indulged, but remember the fact that the blood may run fast and hot but it is still old blood."
"I have some ideas," Draco said, smiling
the same smile that was on his father's lips.
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