The beautifully decorated little parlour had always been Ginny's favorite room in the large house. It was warm and cozy, with comfortable velvet chairs and a thick rug that she fondly remembered her children and grandchildren had loved when they were small.

She glanced about the room, seeing echoes of her children and grandchildren as they played, laughed and fought with each other, and her thoughts turned back to her own childhood. Placing her reading glasses aside, she glanced up at the old clock that sat in the far corner of the room and a knot of sadness gripped her heart.

She'd never understood why her parents had chosen to give her the Weasley family heirloom as a wedding gift. The thought had puzzled her for decades.

The clock was the only thing of true value that her parents had owned and, with all the lavish furnishings that her husband's wealth had brought to her marriage, she certainly had no need for the item. Nevertheless, her parents had insisted, and she'd felt enormous guilt accepting the gift. She found herself pondering their logic almost every time that she looked at the beloved piece that had defined her family. It was a Weasley heirloom, and she felt it should have gone to one of her brothers so that it could remain with the Weasley family name.

Its one purpose was to show the location of each family member, and indeed it had. She couldn't help but to think of her family every time that she looked at the ancient timepiece. But, as much as she cherished the beautiful connection with her family, she'd also come to dread looking at it.

She placed her book aside and walked over to the item that now vexed her, studying it sadly. She'd never added her own family's names to the clock. Somehow, it had never seemed to be the right thing to do. This clock had been the center of her parents' home and it had been a fixture during her childhood. It had been a beacon that had proudly stated every bit of activity her large family undertook during her youth and, as she grew up, she remembered her mother constantly watching the clock, and how the Weasley matriarch had never failed to smile when she caught sight of one of the hands moving toward the comforting position of “home”.

A tear leaked out of Ginny's eyes at the memory.

Her mother was long gone from this world and, now, only four hands remained on the once crowded face. Now, one of those last remaining four hands was slowly inching toward the most dreaded position on the clock. Soon, it would join the other hands that had fallen off, and she knew her heart would break for all eternity.

The hand that was steadily moving toward death belonged to her brother Ron.

She looked away, tears blurring her vision and running down her face. She wiped them away furiously.

Of course, she had expected that, as time passed, members of her family would grow old and die. It was the way of life. But, as a stark reminder of that morbid fact, the clock, once a source of comfort, had become a dreaded reminder of the stark reality of life. She'd grown to hate it over the years, and had even left it covered for a while after her parents had passed. It had been too painful to look at it, knowing that her mother's and father's smiling faces would never sit at the familiar location of “home” ever again.

It was her small grandson, Ben, when he was only five or so, who had brought her to look at the clock again. She gave a sad, gentle smile at the memory. She had been watching the boy and his smaller sister for the afternoon, staying indoors due to the rainy weather, and he'd started exploring every cabinet and trinket that his small hands could find. Of course, it didn't take long for his attention to be drawn to the item that lay covered and hidden in the far corner of the room.

“Grandmother, what is this?” he'd asked, lifting a corner of the lacy fabric and peering underneath.

She remembered walking over, gathering her courage to uncover the item. It had contained six hands at the time, and she'd put aside her heartache to explain.

“This is an heirloom from my parents. It has the hands for all my brothers on it, and me, see?” She pointed to each hand. “It shows where they are. Bill is at work, I'm home, and Ron is...” Her voice caught at the mention of her estranged brother. “Ron is traveling.”

“I remember meeting Uncle George at Christmas,” the boy said, pointing to another hand on the clock. Ginny smiled. Her grandson had met several of her brothers and members of their families at the party, but it made sense that George had stood out among the crowd. He always did. Ginny remembered her daughter-in-law complaining for weeks about the joke candies that he'd handed out to the Malfoy grandchildren.

It was rare that the family got together anymore. With children and grandchildren and marriages along the way, there were many family obligations. However, now that her children were grown, Ginny managed to find time to visit her brothers and their wives, well, most of them, anyway.

“Go someplace, Grandmother, so I can watch your hand move!” the young boy peeped eagerly.

She laughed. “I can't do that. I have to stay here to take care of you and your sister this afternoon.”

He pouted, looking much like his father did at the same age and Ginny smiled fondly. “If you watch long enough, I'm sure that someone will move soon. I used to love watching the clock when I was your age. I always loved seeing when my father's hand moved so I knew he was coming home.”

“Is there a hand for Grandfather?” the child asked, apparently realizing that if his grandmother's hand was there, it would only make sense that her husband's would be there as well.

“No,” she replied. “I probably could have added a hand for him, but I never got around to it.”

The boy watched the clock with fascination, waiting for one of the hands to move to a new location, eventually being rewarded. “Look, that one is going to 'traveling'!”

They watched as the hand for her brother Charlie moved along some mundane path and Ginny smiled, deciding to leave the clock uncovered.

It was a fond memory of the clock, and Ginny smiled again as she thought of her small grandson who was now full-grown and expecting a child of his own.

Ginny walked over and fingered the old book of photographs that she'd been perusing all afternoon. The page was open to show her entire family at Bill's wedding. It was the last picture of the full Weasley clan together, before the first of the hands had fallen from the clock.

Perhaps that was why her parents had given the clock to her, because they couldn't look at it without the constant reminder of the piece that was no longer there. Perhaps that was why she couldn't bring herself to add her husband and children to that clock, because she knew she couldn't bear seeing it change if anything truly bad happened to any of them.

She looked down at the picture of the Weasely family again, remembering that happy moment, so very, very long ago.

Looking at the clock again, she saw Ron's hand move ever so slightly closer toward his death. Involuntarily, her hand covered her mouth and she choked back a sob.

A knock sounded on the door to the parlour.

“Grandmother?” a deep voice inquired.

She turned to the doorway, seeing her eldest grandson smiling at her. He was tall, slender, blond, and looked very much like his father and grandfather before him. He was handsome and good-hearted and her favorite of her grandchildren, although she would never admit that sentiment out loud to anyone.

“Has your grandfather finished with you already?”

The young man smiled with affection. “Yes, Ma'am,” he replied, abashedly. “Well, for the moment, anyway. I'm sure I'm going to receive more lectures in the future.”

“He only wants you to be a good father. Humor him.”

“I will.”

She saw the open book again, remembering what had occupied her thoughts all morning. She needed to go, or she'd never have another opportunity. Time was running out. She looked at her favorite grandchild.

“Ben, I need to go visit someone. I'd like for you to accompany me.”

He looked confused, but then she glanced at the clock, and he noticed the hand that was inching ever closer toward its final destination.

“But shouldn't Grandfather go with you?”

She shook her head. “Not for this.”

The handsome young man nodded seriously, and Ginny had a flash of memory, an echo of how he looked when he was only five.

The pair arrived at the house where her brother had lived for the past fifty years or so, and as they walked closer to the door, she found herself shaking. She stopped, staring at the door with an uncharacteristic fear. Then, she felt the warmth of a hand on her elbow, steadying her both physically and emotionally.

She was grateful she'd decided to not come alone.

The door opened to reveal a younger woman, Ginny presumed it was one of Ron's grandchildren, since she had the telltale red hair that was so indicative of the Weasely family.

“May I help you,” the woman asked.

“I've come to see Ron Weasley. I'm his sister,” she responded softly.

The girl's eyes opened wide in shock and recognition. “I've seen your picture. I'm... I'm not sure...”

Ginny hadn't expected the welcome to be warm. Very few in Ron's family had interacted with her over the years. They'd met briefly at some of the larger family functions, but Ron had always kept his distance, and his family had done the same, since it was likely easier to avoid her than deal with Ron's temper.

“I promise, I'm not here to cause trouble. I know he's dying. I need to see him.” The girl's eyes softened and Ginny pressed with the only word she could, “Please.”

The girl nodded unsteadily, and opened the door, allowing the pair inside. She motioned toward the stairs, and Ginny presumed that it was where Ron was currently located. She turned to the girl, gratefully. “Thank you.”

Ben nodded to the girl also, saying nothing, and followed his grandmother up the stairs. The bedroom where Ron was located wasn't difficult to locate. The door was open, and Ron's wife, Hermione, was keeping vigil in the room.

The grey-haired witch looked up, and upon recognizing the visitor, she sucked in a shocked breath, got up from her seat and met them at the door.

“Hello, Hermione,” Ginny said, walking slowly into the room.

Hermione's face scrunched in worry. “Ginny, he's very weak. You know how he gets. This could kill him.”

Ben placed a comforting hand on Ginny's shoulder, and, once again, she was grateful she'd asked the young man to come with her; it gave her the courage to speak. “He's going to be leaving us soon. It's time for us to put our differences aside.”

Hermione sighed with resignation and motioned toward the bed, stepping aside to let her sister-in-law pass. Ginny drew on her courage, and walked toward the brother that she loved most of all, the brother she hadn't spoken to in decades.

Sitting by the bed, she looked at its occupant. He bore little resemblance to the tall, broad, strong man she once knew. She took his frail hand.

“Ron...”

He opened his eyes, and they flashed with a moment of anger, mixed with sorrow. If he wasn't ready to make amends now, he never would be.

“I love you, Ron,” she said softly.

He grasped her hand in return, with more strength than he appeared to be capable of having. “Gin?”

She smiled at him, feeling better than she had in years. “Yes, it's me.”

His eyes clouded in sadness. “I've missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she said, attempting to keep from crying. “It's been a while.”

He nodded. “Fifty years. A bit too long. How have you been?”

In that instant, it was as if they'd only been apart for a week. The brother she'd loved was back, and the bitterness was gone. Her aching heart was soothed by a balm that she hadn't even been aware that she'd needed. Her eyes filled with happy tears. “I've been good.”

“You're happy, Gin?” he asked earnestly. “Really? Have you been happy?”

She nodded, holding her brother's hand with a firmness that reaffirmed her statement. “I'm very happy, Ron. I'm going to be a great-grandmother, you know.”

“And he's never treated you badly?”

She shook her head, smiling sadly. “He still loves me. He tells me so every day.”

Ron closed his eyes, and Ginny drew closer to him with worry. He was so very frail, so very different from the tall, strong brother she once knew. She worried that her very presence could be enough to finish him.

But, after a few moments he opened his eyes again. “I guess I was wrong then.”

“I should have tried harder to try to talk to you.”

He shook his head. “You know how stubborn I am, and how stubborn you are.”

A noise by the entrance of the door drew their attention. A small girl of maybe four or five had gone running past, giggling.

“Adelaide, I told you not to run upstairs! Granpy is trying to rest!” a voice came from down the hall.

Ron smiled up at his sister. “My first great-grandchild. I beat you to it,” he said with a hint of pride.

Ginny lightly smacked his arm. “Always the competitor, aren't you,” she replied. “I still haven't forgiven you for breaking my arm during that backyard Quidditch game with the twins.”

“That was sixty years ago, Gin.”

“So I guess that means I can hold a grudge longer than you,” she said fondly.

The sound of the little girl giggling came from the doorway again, and, out of habit borne from years of watching their families grow, both siblings looked over to check on the child. The girl was smiling and tugging at the edge of Ben's coat. He was looking down at her, a gentle grin on his face.

Ron grumbled irritably. “Malfoy?”

Ginny looked down at her brother, shaking her head in irritation. Ron might have forgiven her, but his grudge toward her husband still remained. “That's my grandson, Ron. His name is Ben.”

“You brought a Malfoy into my house, Ginny,” he stated flatly.

“I needed some moral support. And, for the record...”

“You are going to remind me that your name is Malfoy, aren't you?” he said, although there was not so much as an echo of the old anger, the old argument. Instead, he sounded tired and resigned.

“Ben is a wonderful young man,” she said softly, pride in her voice. “He's so much like George that I was worried he'd go into the joke business for a while. But he's a love. He cares so much for everyone around him. You'd like him, Ron.”

Ron sniffed in annoyance, but nodded. Looking out into the hallway, he saw the young man holding the little girl's hands and swinging her back and forth as she continued to giggle.

“Well, he's keeping that little bundle of energy occupied,” Ron groused. “Can't keep her still and goodness knows, Hermione tries.”

Ginny laughed. “She lives with you?”

“Yes, she and her mother - my granddaughter - moved in a few months ago. She left a bad marriage. If I was any younger, I'd go and beat the wanker to a pulp for hurting her.”

“I presume that your granddaughter was the young lady who let us in?”

Ron nodded. “She always reminded me of you.”

Ginny wondered if the similarity with Ron's granddaughter might have finally softened his stance on herself and her marriage to Draco. Ron had finally seen what an unhappy marriage truly was, and finally understood that his assumptions about Ginny's marriage being bad were unfounded.

Another giggle sounded from the hallway, and Ginny was grateful that the cheerful sounds in the background seemed to help keep the mood of their conversation light.

Ron lifted himself up, and Ginny found herself helping him, propping pillows behind him to keep him comfortable. Once he was up, he called toward the door, “Adelaide, stop tiring out our visitor.”

The child turned and gave him a pout, unsure if the old man was serious or teasing her. “But, Granpy, we're just having fun!”

“I know, but I want to speak with him. I'll let you have him back in a few minutes.”

Releasing her hold on Ben, the girl looked up at the blond man seriously. “Promise me you'll come back to play?”

Ben nodded, and gave her a wicked grin and a wink.

“Good God, Gin, he does remind me of George.”

Ginny laughed, her heart feeling ever lighter.

Ben entered the room and approached the older man cautiously, with a respect that Ginny recognized easily. Ben had always been a good boy, despite his hints of mischief.

“Yes, Sir?” he asked.

“You're a Malfoy.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ben confirmed.

Ron studied the young man closely, his eyes narrowed with suspicion and failing eyesight. “You know that you're part Weasley, right?”

A hint of amusement came into Ben's eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

Ron turned to Ginny. “Not much of a vocabulary with this one, Ginny.”

Before Ginny could respond, Ben spoke with his usual hint of humor. “I assure you, Sir, that I can speak in full sentences. I'm even potty trained now. I just wasn't quite sure where to begin.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, unsure of which one to chastise.

Ben's remark had simply been part of his character and hadn't been malicious, but he had little idea of the depth of the bitter feelings that Ron held toward the Malfoys. Ron could easily take the innocent joke badly. Ginny waited nervously, wondering if Ron would simply let his temper fly.

Ron looked at Ben again, his expression stern, as if he was thinking about what the boy had just said to him, and deciding how to react. Then, he looked at the young man, and probably for the first time in his life, he smiled at a Malfoy.

X – X – X

Two weeks later, Ben's son was born and Ginny proudly held her first great-grandchild. It was one of the happiest days of her life.

Better still, Ron's hand remained on the clock. It had even moved back slightly. Ron was still nearing the end of his life, but something had sparked in him, and Ginny had been grateful for having just a little more time to spend with her brother while she could. She visited him nearly every day, talking endlessly, trying to catch up on the years they'd spent apart.

Ron had taken a liking to Ben, although part of if was a force of will. Ron seemed quite annoyed by the fact that her good-hearted grandson looked so much like his grandfather, the man that had irked Ron his entire life. Nevertheless, Ron had made the effort.

A few days after that, at Ron's request, Ben brought his newborn son to visit his great-great Uncle. Upon seeing the child, Ron let out a laugh that was so loud and long that Hermione came running into the room in obvious distress.

Tears running down his face in mirth, Ron simply informed his wife, “Malfoy must be pitching a fit right now,” as he gently stroked the baby's bright ginger head of hair.

Ginny smiled at the thought. If anything, she knew that Ben had enjoyed the joke also.

- X – X – X -

Later that evening, Ginny sat in her parlour and looked over to her clock in the corner. It would be leaving her home in the morning. Ben had always loved the clock, and now he was growing a family of his own. Ginny had decided to give the clock as a gift to honor his son's arrival. It was time for the heirloom to once again become crowded with hands faithfully doing their job of tracking a busy family. When she'd told Ron about giving the clock to her grandson, he'd approved. Ben was a Weasley, if not in name, certainly in heart, and he deserved this item as a reminder of his heritage. Even Ron had recognized the connection.

Perhaps that was why her parents gave her the clock; to remind her of her connection to her family, even though her name had changed. Perhaps they knew that one day, the clock would help her to heal the long, ragged rift between her and her brother. Whatever the reason, the heirloom had completed its task for her. It was now time to let it go.

Walking over to the clock, she watched Bill's hand slowly move from traveling to home. All four hands now pointing to the same position. All was right in the world, at least for the moment.

Smiling, she dimmed the lights and left the room. With one problem solved, she now had to move onto the next. She had a husband who was in need of being soothed. He'd been grumbling incessantly for the past several days about his youngest heir having ginger-colored hair.