Rose sat in her room, wand in hand, staring at the clock on her nightstand, ten more minutes till six. Ten minutes left till her aunt and uncle arrived for dinner and she had to Disapparate, had to meet Draco Malfoy and hope to God that he could talk her cousin out of packing her bags and leaving without a second thought.

She nervously tapped her wand against the palm of her hand, the tick tocking of her clock making her go mad. She tried to clear her head, to think of Travis who was proving to be better than ever. She flushed, thinking of how she introduced him to her cousin Albus, as her boyfriend. Travis had unwittingly broken character, his eyes flitting to hers in surprise, a hopeful question there. She had smiled faintly back at him, still quite careful with what she said so that Albus didn’t realize too much, though he was already ranting and raving and Rose needn’t have bothered.

Travis’ eyebrow rose in question, his ears faintly pink. Rose knew he didn’t want to ask. He knew this all was pretend, all him going out of his way to help her. Realizing all he had done for her and what fun she had had with him, Rose bit her lip, unable to keep from smiling up at him. “I just thought, after everything,” she swallowed, “That maybe we ought to make it official?” There was a question in her tone, asking him.

And he beamed back at her, taking it all in stride as he threw his arm around her shoulders, excitedly facing Albus, right back in character, which was now a reality. He introduced himself as her boyfriend and Rose flushed, smiling in happiness, holding fast to the one truly great accomplishment of her day, all other ventures paling in comparison to how happy she was knowing Travis was her boyfriend now and he would be for some time.

Rose smiled to herself until she was broken out of her reverie by two pops of Apparation. Jumping up from her bed and realizing she had no time left, Rose waved her wand, Disapparating with a soft pop.

*

Hermione Weasley walked briskly out of the kitchen, ready to greet Harry and Ginny when she suddenly froze in her tracks, blinking in surprise.

“Wow, Herm, that’s a lovely red dress!” Ginny enthused, shrugging off her purse and slipping out of her shoes the second she arrived.

Hermione faltered, taking in the sight of two pairs of muggle jeans, Harry grimacing in apology.

“Don’t you two look… comfy…” Hermione trailed off, attempting to keep a smile on her face.

Ginny grinned back at her, sighing contently as she wriggled her now freed toes on the carpet. “Much better,” she sighed happily.

Just then, Ron rounded the corner, his expression one of a whining child when he saw Harry in jeans and a simple button-up shirt. “Oh come on! Why can’t I wear something like that, Mione?”

Hermione pursed her lips, hands on hips and silent.

“Oh, go on Ron, go change into something like what Harry’s got on,” Ginny encouraged him. “No reason to be such a stuffed shirt when you don’t need to be, eh?”

Ron pumped his fist, looking eagerly to Hermione for permission.

“Harry, perhaps you could help him pick what to wear?” Hermione suggested lightly.

“Erm, Hermione, I’m really not comfortable with going through another man’s clothes, even if it is Ron… that’s just a little…”

“Harry?” Hermione called, a thin smile on her face.

“Y-yes?” he faltered.

“Please. Go with Ron.”

Harry glanced between his wife and Hermione, well aware that an argument was about to take place and he decided helping Ron shovel through a laundry basket searching for clean jeans was as good a way as any for occupying his time.

He headed down the hallway, leaving his all too cheery wife to face a very unhappy woman.

“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded as quietly as possible.

“Nothing, Mione, honest,” Ginny promised with false sincerity. “I just wanted everyone to be comfortable for a change, you know… that way nobody feels on edge.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Well I’m not changing, if you don’t mind. I’m comfortable as can be,” she promised, indicating her stylish red dress.

“I’m glad,” Ginny smiled. “I’d hate for any of these last minute changes to upset you.”

“I’m not upset at all. I’m perfectly not on edge,” she bit out.

“Lovely. Because I’ve been meaning to ask you, what do you think about eating out in the living room tonight? We could watch a quidditch game on the telly you rewired, have some beers…”

“Did I hear the word beer?” Ron asked excitedly, rejoining the girls in his Chudley Cannon’s jersey and a pair of worn jeans. “That’s a brilliant idea, Gin. Don’t know why we haven’t tried this before. Come on, Mione, I’ll help you with the dishes. We can put the china aside and use the Gladrags wear, toss the food on plates and catch the game.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled, her expression tight. “After all, if that would make everyone comfortable…”

And with that she re-entered the kitchen with Ron, leaving Ginny to smile at Harry, a satisfied gleam in her eyes as she plopped down on the couch and turned on the telly, the sound of the sportscaster allowing their conversation to go unnoticed.

Harry sat down next to her, his expression un-amused. “Why don’t you admit you’re just trying to make everything as uncomfortable as possible?” he sighed.

She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in challenge and a smirk on her lips. “Alright then, I admit it.” Grinning, she turned back to the television, loudly cheering that the game was starting and calling for Ron to hurry up and join them.

An hour later, well before Harry and Ginny would normally leave a dinner at Ron and Hermione’s, they were moving to disapparate, Ginny slowly slipping on her shoes and grabbing her purse. “Honestly, Herm, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she assured, trying not to laugh. “I honestly thought beer pong would be fun, you know, reliving our younger years, loosening up, getting a bit more…”

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY COMFORTABLE!” Hermione shrieked.

“Alright, alright,” Ginny relented. “I won’t say it. Have a lovely evening Ron, Hermione. I hope you can both relax and enjoy the rest of the game…”

“Get out!”

Ginny stumbled into Harry after they Disapparated, his hand automatically reaching out to steady her. “Well that was fun,” she declared, disentangling herself from him as the two walked up from the edge of their driveway.

“It most certainly was not,” he disagreed, fixing his wife with a pointed glare.

“Oh come on, Harry. She was ten times as bad to me at the station the other day and you didn’t even attempt to defend me,” she argued back, already heading up the long driveway.

“That is not my fault, Gin,” Harry argued, following after her. “I didn’t even know what she was mad about.”

“Oh please,” Ginny snapped, turning on him. “I told you everything that happened between Lily and Rose in the hospital wing that day and I told you Hermione would cause trouble. You knew exactly why she was in such a snit and didn’t do a thing to help me.”

“What was I supposed to do? Announce in the middle of King’s Cross that you lived with Malfoy for nearly a year and assure Hermione you weren’t cheating with him when I’m not so sure of that myself?” he shouted.

Ginny froze, glaring at him in cold fury. “You’re right, perhaps you should work on your own perceptions before correcting Hermione’s. You might convince her of more going on than even you believe.”

Harry groaned aloud as they moved through the dark to their cottage, trailing after his offended wife. “Gin, come on Ginny, slow down. Look, I’m sorry,” he called. “I shouldn’t have said…”

“No,” Ginny snapped. “You shouldn’t have even thought it.”

Harry followed her up the porch steps, as she was reaching out for the handle. “Look, Ginny, I’m sorry.” Ginny turned to face him and he could only see the reflection of her eyes in the darkness. “You’re right,” he sighed. “You’ve always been honest with me about the times you’ve gone to see him.”

“Time, Harry. I saw him once,” she corrected him, her face expressionless.

Harry nodded. “Right; at his office.”

Ginny turned the door handle, addressing Harry over her shoulder as she dug through her purse. “It’s not as if he’s sneaking around our house or anything…” she trailed off abruptly, falling utterly silent as Harry stiffened beside her. Ginny sucked in a breath at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing on the bottom stair, suddenly still. Ginny blinked and her purse fell from her slack hands, the sound of it hitting the floor barely registering with her.

“Draco…”

“Hello, Ginny…”

Ginny mouthed wordlessly, blinking against the tears coming unbidden. “W-what are you doing here?” she asked in a whisper.

Draco’s jaw clenched, forcing his eyes to stay open, to keep from showing any emotion at all, preferring to make them painfully dry than to shed tears.

“Well,” he inhaled sharply, his drawl returning to him with ease. “I do believe I’ve had my fill of talking with teenage girls for this evening. If you’d excuse me, Mrs. Potter, I’ll just be leaving now.”

He stepped off the last stair but Ginny moved to stand in front of him, struggling to find her voice. “I-I…” she shook her head, “I don’t understand… why you’re here…” Her large brown eyes were searching his, searching for any indication of why he was standing in her front hall. “Draco…”

Her husband’s hand was suddenly on her shoulder, gentle but firm and commanding. “Ginny… move aside so Malfoy can get out.” He bit out, his eyes flashing with something like fury at the other man but Draco didn’t react, still looking at Ginny.

“Please move,” he whispered and Ginny’s face fell. Her eyes flitted down full of confusion and embarrassment and from what Lily saw, that same pain she’d seen in Draco’s eyes only moments before.

She was openly crying now, her face crumbling as Draco Malfoy moved past her. He nodded once to Rose and reached for the door handle, his expression pained. He opened the door and stepped outside. Ginny suddenly choked out a tearful no, turning quickly and reaching for the door to rip it open and follow after him but Harry’s hand slammed flat against the door, barricading it shut.

“No,” he growled, his body tense with rage.

“Harry, please…” she cried.

“How do you expect me to trust you?” he yelled, pounding his fist back against the door once more, glaring down at her. “After this?”

“I d-didn’t know why he was here!” she cried. “If you’d let me speak to him…”

“NO!”

Angrily Ginny pulled at the door, her frustration quickly turning to incoherent crying as she struggled. She finally succeeded in forcing the door open, rushing outside in the dark only to falter, realizing he was already gone.

Rose watched her aunt shake, her hands trembling as she grasped bits of her hair, pulling at the strands and struggling not to cry aloud. She was barely a silhouette in the darkness, shaking like someone who’d just seen a ghost. Without realizing it, Rose felt tears on her cheeks, raising her eyes to see her uncle’s face, utterly expressionless. Snapping suddenly, he slammed the door shut so hard that the hallway shook, Harry stalking past Rose and away from the front hall, the front door swinging back open from the force of its impact. Rose heard glass breaking from inside the kitchen, wedding china no doubt being hurtled against the walls, and still there was her aunt, now sitting on the grass outside, crying brokenly.

Rose finally looked back up the stairs, wanting to see her younger cousin, to see if she was alright.

She was gone.

*

Draco fell against a brick wall in a dark alley when he apparated, his hands automatically scraping against the worn brick to hold himself up, his legs already given out from under him. Breathing shallowly he leaned against the wall until he was sitting on the hard pavement. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t recognize this place, especially not in the dark. But it was empty and silent and he leaned his back against the wall, staring upwards at the sky and gasping for breath.

He swallowed painfully, tears falling down his face like he’d never cried in his life before. He didn’t even have the strength to be embarrassed. “Oh, God… Oh God help me…” he croaked, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and crying. He bit down on his lip so hard he drew blood and he tasted salt from both that and his tears.

He was shaking, physically shaking like he was having a small seizure and he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop crying from the pain of that ripped-open hole in his chest, burning like salt in a wound.

“Help me… God, Help me…” he cried.

Everything was distorted past his tear-filled eyes, his vision blurring but he froze in sudden recognition of the place he was at. Slowly his eyes drifted upwards and round himself and his heart fell to his stomach like a stone.

Up above him, the window alight with a faint glow, was their old flat.