All That You Leave Behind

Apologies for the huge delay - RL has bitten us both on the ass. That, combined with the biggest block of writer's block of all time has meant ATYLB has been on hiatus! Thanks to all of you for your patience, and to everyone who reviewed last time. Please do it again this time! And, on a happy note, as Q will soon be on nearly 3 weeks of break, you can look forward to, barring another block of writer's block, more timely updates in the near future! Yay! (Q is crying quietly in the corner, but just ignore her! Or, better yet, encourage her!) See? We give to you, now you give to us! That means reviews, folks. After all, tis the season!


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Chapter 66


Lucius peered into the mirror, carefully smoothing the material of his shirt. Behind him, his wife smiled indulgently.

“Is this function entirely necessary?” she enquired with an aristocratic tilt of her fine head.

He turned to face her, grey eyes shining in the candle-light. “As little as I enjoy the idea of it, my dear, it is. If we are to free ourselves of past associations and move forward, this function is entirely necessary.”

She moved over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He stared at the slender wrists, wondering anew how this fragile looking creature could have such a core of inner strength.

“Then allow me to stand at your side, Lucius, we are both Malfoys. I am not disgraced by my name.”

He rested his head against her arm, allowing his eyes to close for a moment.” Nothing would please me more,” he began, “however, the night promises to be dull and lengthy. Why not stay here and decide upon on next holiday destination? I know we have hardly been able to enjoy much time with each other without other things interfering, but I am sure that will soon change.”

His grey eyes met her blue ones, and she inclined her head regally. “Of course, Lucius.” She smiled and turned away.

As she left she said gently, “Do not allow those ‘other things’ to interfere with your relationship with your son.”

Left alone, Lucius’ jaw worked as he considered the evening ahead.


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The large function room that served that night as the ballroom at the Ministry of Magic was beautifully decorated. No hint of the day’s earlier troubles were discernible. Indeed, some of the problematic water had been frozen and was now making a fetching effect over the walls.

He strode across the slippery floor, feet sure as he made his way to the Minister for Magic. He reached the other wizard and bowed stiffly in formal greeting.

“Ah, Lucius,” the Minister said, “I imagine you know most people here already.”

The blond recognised the subtle dig but ignored it. Instead he put on his most charming smile and responded, “But of course, Minister. Only I knew them before they became the giants of our world that you have made them.”

After a few more moments of desultory and dull conversation, he moved off to a quiet, hidden corner, before moving once again into the full glare of the officials’ animosity.


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Hermione sat at a table outside Florean Fortescue’s, looking tired and bedraggled. Ron, beside her, was holding a sleeping James. She glanced up and smiled in welcome as Ginny approached their table. Her exhaustion showed all too clearly in her smile.

“Thank you for the ‘loan’,” she began, stifling a yawn.

Ginny nodded , “You're welcome. It freed me up for my Friday meeting, so it worked for everyone, but should you even be up? I know how tiring this stage of the pregnancy is. You could have just dropped James back off at the Shack you know.” She peered intensely into Hermione’s face, concerned at the greyness there. The elder witch seemed almost at the end of her tether.

“We wanted to thank you properly for lending us James. It was very instructive.” Again Hermione yawned and Ginny sighed in annoyance.

“That’s it! Ron, you give me James, and then take your wife home and look after her!” Her tone of voice brooked no arguments and her brother nodded sheepishly as he passed the child, his basket, and then the bags of various necessary articles across the table.

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Hermione murmured, head sagging, “I wanted to have a girlie natter.”

The red-head smiled wanly. She would have enjoyed that too, but knew that it could wait one more day. “You have a good rest, and we’ll go out for lunch soon, ok?”

With more apologies and promises to meet up, the youngest Weasley couple disapparated.

Left alone, Ginny made a careful examination of James and changed his nappy. She acknowledged that there was nothing wrong with the one he had on, but it wasn’t quite done in the way she would have fastened it, and so she changed it. Once satisfied with him, she settled him back in his basket and idly glanced at the menu, wondering whether she should grab a bite to eat or head home.

It was as she was looking in the window to see the specials that it happened.

One moment everything was as normal; the street was bustling. The next it was eerily quiet.

Spinning upright, she threw a glance down to her son, peacefully hidden by the table, and, in the same movement, brought out her wand to point at the hooded and robed figure standing just behind her.

Face hidden behind the grotesque mask, he grabbed hold of her arm tightly before she could use her wand or grasp James. She felt her heart lurch, the deathly quiet of the Alley unsettling her.

A line of more Death Eaters blocked anyone from possibly lending her any help.

Panic began to bubble inside her. The panic of a mother for her child. Within the panic anger began to bloom. How dare they? How dare they attack now, when everything was going right in her life?

Fury made her tighten the grip on her wand. The wood caught in her sleeve, and she shook the material away in irritation. As she did, the charm bracelet clinked gently.

A hissing indrawn breath made her look up.

She was surrounded by black-cloaked figures. The parade of masks sickened her, and in some disassociated corner of her mind made her wonder how so many Death Eaters had escaped justice.

A voice that seemed vaguely familiar spoke, “Do not be stupid. You cannot possibly escape.”

The Death Eaters shifted closer, still keeping the crowd of horrified onlookers at bay.

Ginny, knowing that the ominous words were true, nonetheless looked about desperately. Her heart sunk at the quiet pops of disapparation from the silent, horrified crowd, and knew that no help was forthcoming.

Ginny’s jaw clenched as her mind raced.

Harry.

This was all about Harry.

She remembered the sudden intake of breath when her bracelet had been revealed. Could whoever this was know about that? Want her to use it to summon her husband into this trap?

She swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear and panic, and mustered all the courage she possessed. She had to save her baby. "Let my son go at least," she said in what she hoped was a commanding voice. "Let me send him to safety and I'll go with you."

"I have no interest in your spawn," the voice behind the mask growled, and Ginny breathed an inward sigh of relief. Her breath caught again, however, as the Death Eater gripped her arm even more tightly, nodded to one of his comrades, and she saw her brother George being dragged forward.

"Take it," the Death Eater snapped at George, pointing toward James' basket with his wand.

Ginny's heart stuttered to a stop as she watched George come forward for the basket. As he bent down to grab it, he sent a hard, determined look toward her, which she returned, her eyes pleading with him to not try anything, with a sharp shake of her head. Her heart returned to beating with the full force of her panic when George snatched up the basket and hurried off toward his shop with the precious bundle, unimpeded by the Death Eaters.

Ginny felt her vision swim before her momentarily, but took a breath and steeled herself. Inside, she battled with herself; should she activate the bracelet and alert Harry? Could she allow her husband to fall into this trap? Wouldn't he anyway? George, or somebody, was bound to alert the Aurors at any moment.

Wouldn't they?


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Harry was jolted from sleep, and the warmth of Severus' arms, by Kingsley Shacklebolt's magically enhanced booming voice shouting frantically from his living room's floo. He bolted upright, throwing a guilty and terrified look at Severus, scrambled off the bed and began throwing on his clothing, nearly tripping and falling as he struggled into his jeans.

He stumbled clumsily out to his living room, hastily zipping his trousers and trying to flatten his horrifically mussed hair as he went. He tried to calm his slamming heart, swallow around his dry throat, and calm his guiltily screaming mind as he fell to his knees in front of the massive fireplace. "K-Kingsley," he croaked, "what....."

"There's no time, Harry," Kingsley boomed in a rush, "Death Eaters, in Diagon Alley....."

"Death Eaters?" Harry said in confusion. Hadn't they caught them all? "Are you sure, Kingsley?" he asked, "sure it isn't..."

"No time to argue, Harry!" the Head Auror shouted agitatedly, "we're sure. The report came from George Weasley himself, and as the Ministry is closed, hard telling how long it took the message to be relayed to me! Death Eaters, in Diagon Alley, and they've got a captive."

Harry drew in a sharp breath, and then his heart stopped completely at the big man's next words.

"It's Ginny."


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*sings* "All we want for Christmas are lots of nice reviews!"