Fic: Children of Hope (3/4)
Title: Children of Hope (3/4)
Author: airmidm
Rating: R
Characters: Greg Goyle/Tracey Davis
A/N: Full header is on Ch.1. Ch.1 Ch.2
December 1998
Stone Walk, Rathlin Island, Northern Ireland
Standing on the balcony in the middle of the night, Greg couldn't deny that he was happy to be home despite the nightmares that home brought back. Nightmares that were the reason he was out here, freezing his arse off instead of being curled up with Maeve in his arms.
Before he'd used drugs and copious amounts of alcohol to keep them at bay.
As for now.
Well, now he couldn't- he wouldn't do so. Not now that Maeve's safety hinged on every last bit of cunning that he'd ever had. War was brewing - Purebloods versus Ministry. It was a battle as old as the Ministry itself but one that was ever changing, ever evolving. With the new sanctions against anyone and everyone Potter held a grudge for, the endless battle had morphed into something more, something deadlier and far more dangerous that Voldemort or Grindelwald could even imagine or hope to accomplish.
Something even the Purebloods planning the upcoming war had no idea of the outcome. Greg sure as hell knew that he'd lost hope long ago of ever winning against the Golden Boy and his lapdogs. All he could ask for was a reprieve, a decent compromise. One that would last until a generation could be raised to battle and win. His generation had been that generation- The Generation of Hope.
We failed miserably, he thought snidely.
"Val?"
He looked over his shoulder to see Maeve wrapped in a mink blanket, tousle-haired and clearly more asleep than awake as she stepped onto the balcony. Even in the middle of the night she's beautiful. "I couldn't sleep, love. You get back inside where it is warm and I'll be there in a minute."
Shaking her head, she joined him, wrapping her arms around his waist and setting her head on his chest. He smiled, tucking the blanket snugly around her before holding her close and kissing the top of her head. It was times like these that he wondered what the hell he would do without her. There was something about his Maeve, something that soothed him deep down, something that settled his frazzled nerves. He adored her, completely. There was nothing, and Greg meant nothing that he wouldn't do to keep her safe, happy, and in his arms.
"Val, will you come inside with me?" she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to break the peaceful silence.
Sighing, he nodded, sweeping her up into his arms. "I didn't mean to wake you, Mo Rós."
She leaned up to lightly kiss his jaw. "I know you didn't. But, talking about it has always helped before."
She was right and they both knew it. Rather than attempting to change the subject (which she wouldn't let him get away with anyway) or reassure her (which wouldn't work either), he walked back inside, kicking the door closed with his foot. Feeling the wards reset as he crossed the room towards the enormous bed. There had never been secrets between them, even the long years that they'd tried to keep up the façade that they were 'just friends' or 'best mates'. Hell, even when he'd been lost in the drugs and alcohol, she'd been right there holding him and bringing him out of the stupor.
He settled them in the bed, Maeve curled up at his side with her head laying over his heart. Tugging the blankets up he renewed the vow he'd first made when they were just children. Nothing will harm her, I'd rather die than allow that to happen. I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep Tracey safe and happy.
Tracey shifted, brushing the fringe from his face and then laying her hand on his cheek. "My broody Val, what's bothering you tonight?"
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, allowing it to calm him as the memories came flooding back. "I dreamt that I was back in Mykonos during those first few months," he explained, his voice breaking a little, as only he'd allow when it was the two of them. He knew showing weakness in front of her was all right. She'd never ever call him on it. It was here, with her, that he could be himself - no masks, no façade, no games. "I was stoned as hell and I could see you there, even though I couldn't move. You- you had tears flowing down your face and I knew that it was my fault-"
Tracey cut him off, covering his mouth with hers. She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to say, "I was sad for you, not because of you, Greg. I knew that all I could do was hold you and I wished I could do more, that I could be there for you as you have always been for me. You needed me and I didn't know what to do. That is my fault, my failing, not yours. Never yours."
He felt his chest tighten. Was this his fault? This doubt she had? Didn't she understand that he loved her just as she was, that in his eyes there was nothing wrong with her, that she had no failings - especially where he was concerned? Sliding his hand up her back and burying it in her hair, he brought her mouth to his again, pouring all his feelings for her into the kiss. When the need to breath overcame his need to continue the kiss, he pulled back just a hair. "I wish you wouldn't doubt yourself, Trace. I handled it badly, losing Mum and Vinnie all at once rattled me. Forgive me for being stupid about it?"
She nodded, tucking her face against his neck. He could feel her tears running down his neck. It cut him deep. His voice was low, but full of remorse when he finally said, "Tracey? Maeve? No tears, please. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"Why us? What did we do to anger whatever gods are out there? Are we doomed to always look over our shoulders, waiting and wondering when Potter will try to arrest or kill us? Will this ever end?"
He didn't know the answers, he wished he did. "I wish I knew, Trace. All we can do is fight until we can't fight any more and pray that it is enough. All I know is that I'll do whatever I have to in order for you to have even a small measure of peace."
Her tiny hands slid down his chest, pushing aside the blanket that separated them. "Then we should live for the moment, shouldn't we?" she asked huskily. "Make the most of the time we're given and all that?"
"Yes, yes we should," he responded, flipping them so that she was under him, clad in nothing but one of his button ups. Making short work of the buttons, he breathed deeply at the sight of her. Leaning back, his hands on his knees, he slowly raked his eyes down her body.
He was moving over her when Luthien appeared next to the bed, shaking and stuttering as she slapped a hand over her eyes. "Luthien is so very sorry, Master Val."
Exasperated, Greg quickly covered Maeve, rolling off the side of the bed and tugging on a pair of sleep pants. If the elf had barged in than there must be an emergency. If not, he'd behead her and toss her body off the cliff. "What is wrong, Luthien?"
"Mrs. Zabini is here with her Auror." The clearly terrified elf responded, just loud enough to be heard.
Tracey threw the blanket off, the button up already re-buttoned. As she clambered out of the bed, she asked, "Are they injured?"
Greg Accioed a pair of her own sleep pants and her robe, dropping them into her open arms, waiting for the answer.
"They's not alone, Mistress Maeve, and one they have with them is injured. I've already sent for Mistress' Astrid and Nicola to help."
Already moving towards the door, wand in hand, Greg held out his other hand for Maeve. "Where exactly are they?"
"The main parlour, Master Val."
Greg waved the elf off. "Go and help, Luthien. Merlin knows you cleaned up B, Maeve, Draco, and myself enough to be of assistance. Who is hurt, do you know?"
Luthien shook her head and disappeared with a small pop.
Greg pulled Maeve close, kissing her quickly but soundly. "We will be finishing that later, you realise."
Tracey snickered. "Yes, we will. Now why don't we see what the newest disaster is."
"Might as well," he replied, attempting a bit of humour. "We taking bets on the identity of Stone Walk's newest refugee?"
"A Weasley," Tracey said, tugging on his hand to get him moving down the corridor. "We've three here already, one more wouldn't surprise me in the least."
Conceding her point, he playfully tossed her over his shoulder and hurried down the corridor. "If you're correct, what do I owe you?"
Her response startled him, enough that he stumbled.
"A baby."
He would have turned and walked straight back into the bedroom to make her wish a reality, that was if an unearthly screech of outrage hadn't reverberated through the entirety of Stone Walk at that very moment.
"Oh ruddy hell," Tracey muttered as he set her on her feet and they took off at a dead run.
--**--
They slid into the main parlour side by side, only Greg's quick move to catch her stopping them from falling in a heap on the floor. They nearly fell over again once they got a good look at just which Weasley was laid out on the chaise being healed.
Tracey whirled, rushing across the room to where Ginny was still seething, her wand gripped in her white knuckled fist. "Ginny, George doesn't need you upset. Neither does the baby. What is Draco going to say when he finds out you're getting this upset?"
Greg left calming Ginny to Tracey, not particularly wanting his choicer bits hexed off, and instead joined Kingsley, Blaise, and Callista. He stopped short when he saw who was curled up on Blaise's lap, sobbing uncontrollably. "Lovegood?"
The tiny blonde peeked over Blaise's shoulder, her big blue eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Her tone still had that 'dreamy' quality long associated with her, but currently it was overlain with that flat, emotionless tone that warned him of imminent breakdown. "Why hello, Gregory. You will fix George, won't you? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Greg ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. He recognized the signs - having had them himself- and knew that what she needed was a warm bed and Sleeping Draught. He could question later just why she was comfortable enough with Blaise to be on his lap. "We'll do the best we can. Why don't you allow B to take you up to one of the guest suites? I'll send a house elf with some pajamas and a dose of Sleeping Draught."
Her eyes widened farther than he knew was possible. "I - I -" she stuttered, feebly pointing towards George. "George is hurt. They hurt him because of me."
Blaise murmured something that Greg couldn't quite hear, rubbing her back as he stood, cradling her against his chest. He caught Greg's eye over Luna's bent head, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation of his current mood. "I'll take her to my suite. I can handle calling and elf as well. You calm Ginny and see what the fuck happened."
Greg held up his hands in a surrendering sort of motion. He damn well knew better than to test Blaise when he was this cold and emotionless. It was at moments like this that one wrong word, no matter who you were or how important you were to Blaise, that you risked death by crossing him. Callista had indeed taught her son all the tricks in her repertoire. "You two go, I'll handle things here."
Once Blaise was out of the room, Greg turned to the group crowded around the injured man. "Someone tell me just what the fuck happened. Who the fuck is stupid enough to attack at," he paused, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting the time, "at three in the morning?"
"Harry," Ginny spat vehemently, taking a seat in the overstuffed armchair with Tracey's assistance. "He's completely insane."
"Even Potter isn't this stupid, is he?" Kingsley asked, passing what looked to be a bottle of Skele-Gro to Callista.
Ginny sneered, looking quite a bit like her fiancé in the process. "Luna knew what was between Draco and myself. She helped George sneak me away. I didn't have to be there to know that the little bastard ordered this 'arrest'. Taking Draco to Azkaban obviously wasn't enough punishment."
"Can I kill him now?" Greg asked no one in particular, meaning every bloody word. He and Blaise had been campaigning for the, admittedly rash though thoroughly justified, course of action since they'd returned from Greece. Granger and Weasel King wouldn't have a leg to stand on if their 'fearless leader' was dead and everyone knew it.
"No. As happy a thought as it is, we can't off Potter now."
"Why, Padma," Greg said, turning to the corner of the parlour hidden in shadows. He was nearly used to the former Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs that now seemed to appear in his home with little to no notice what so ever. "I didn't realise you were here. When did you arrive?"
She stepped from the shadows, her expression one of deep anger and disgust. "Long about the time Parv's owl arrived warning me that there were Aurors at her door and that I'd best run like hell."
Greg felt someone coming up behind him and a moment later, Callista laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've got a dozen more people at The Vale, Greg. It seems tonight Potter decided on raiding every known Pureblood household he could get his grubby little hands on the locations for."
Greg very nearly growled aloud. Potter was becoming a pest they needn't deal with any longer. His newest campaign was that all Purebloods were a 'risk' to the safety and security of the post-war Ministry and in turn the Wizarding World on a whole. "Now that Bill and Fleur Weasley are in hiding who does he have breaking the wards?"
"We don't know," Kingsley interjected tightly. "If I knew, I'd slit his or her throat for this. George was only watching out for Luna and he's laying here in a coma for it."
Greg shook his head. There was nothing more they could do- save for eliminating Potter, Granger, and Weasel King immediately - to rectify the current situation. Knowing that the women were doing all they could for George, he crossed the room, crouching down in front of Ginny, taking her ice cold hands in his. "Gin, you need sleep. Tracey will take you up to your room, all right?"
"Not until I know if George will make it or not," she whispered. "I've lost Fred and Draco, I can't lose anyone else, Greg."
He reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I know that, Pet. But, we can't have you and the little Malfoy become ill. Maeve will take you up and sit with you. Padma as well, I'm sure. Draco entrusted you and the wee one to us. Let me handle this and you rest. Just think about it, Gin, in five months you'll have a tiny little red-headed, grey-eyed baby to hold. Think of him, the future we're building so he doesn't have to go through what we have, please."
Padma joined them silently. Her training as an Unspeakable, while fortuitous to them, was slightly discerning to the Slytherins she liked to sneak up on- just to see if she could. "I'm tired, Ginny. I'll stay with you. Greg is correct, there is no need for you and the baby to be sick. Draco would find out, escape from Azkaban and go on a killing spree." She grinned evilly. "Not that I wouldn't pay good money to see that, but it wouldn't help our cause at the moment."
Greg stood, snickering lightly, and let Padma take over. No one, and he meant no one, could cajole like she could. He moved around the chair, leaning down to kiss the corner of Tracey's mouth. "I've got this, Love. Make sure Ginny doesn't do anything rash, please," he whispered in her ear before straightening and stepping back.
She nodded, waving him off.
He motioned for Kingsley to follow him out of the parlour so that they could discuss their next move. So many uncertainties were now apparent. But, the one thing Greg knew was that Potter had just royally screwed himself.
Tonight is the beginning of the end of Potter's reign of terror.
Author: airmidm
Rating: R
Characters: Greg Goyle/Tracey Davis
A/N: Full header is on Ch.1. Ch.1 Ch.2
December 1998
Stone Walk, Rathlin Island, Northern Ireland
Standing on the balcony in the middle of the night, Greg couldn't deny that he was happy to be home despite the nightmares that home brought back. Nightmares that were the reason he was out here, freezing his arse off instead of being curled up with Maeve in his arms.
Before he'd used drugs and copious amounts of alcohol to keep them at bay.
As for now.
Well, now he couldn't- he wouldn't do so. Not now that Maeve's safety hinged on every last bit of cunning that he'd ever had. War was brewing - Purebloods versus Ministry. It was a battle as old as the Ministry itself but one that was ever changing, ever evolving. With the new sanctions against anyone and everyone Potter held a grudge for, the endless battle had morphed into something more, something deadlier and far more dangerous that Voldemort or Grindelwald could even imagine or hope to accomplish.
Something even the Purebloods planning the upcoming war had no idea of the outcome. Greg sure as hell knew that he'd lost hope long ago of ever winning against the Golden Boy and his lapdogs. All he could ask for was a reprieve, a decent compromise. One that would last until a generation could be raised to battle and win. His generation had been that generation- The Generation of Hope.
We failed miserably, he thought snidely.
"Val?"
He looked over his shoulder to see Maeve wrapped in a mink blanket, tousle-haired and clearly more asleep than awake as she stepped onto the balcony. Even in the middle of the night she's beautiful. "I couldn't sleep, love. You get back inside where it is warm and I'll be there in a minute."
Shaking her head, she joined him, wrapping her arms around his waist and setting her head on his chest. He smiled, tucking the blanket snugly around her before holding her close and kissing the top of her head. It was times like these that he wondered what the hell he would do without her. There was something about his Maeve, something that soothed him deep down, something that settled his frazzled nerves. He adored her, completely. There was nothing, and Greg meant nothing that he wouldn't do to keep her safe, happy, and in his arms.
"Val, will you come inside with me?" she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to break the peaceful silence.
Sighing, he nodded, sweeping her up into his arms. "I didn't mean to wake you, Mo Rós."
She leaned up to lightly kiss his jaw. "I know you didn't. But, talking about it has always helped before."
She was right and they both knew it. Rather than attempting to change the subject (which she wouldn't let him get away with anyway) or reassure her (which wouldn't work either), he walked back inside, kicking the door closed with his foot. Feeling the wards reset as he crossed the room towards the enormous bed. There had never been secrets between them, even the long years that they'd tried to keep up the façade that they were 'just friends' or 'best mates'. Hell, even when he'd been lost in the drugs and alcohol, she'd been right there holding him and bringing him out of the stupor.
He settled them in the bed, Maeve curled up at his side with her head laying over his heart. Tugging the blankets up he renewed the vow he'd first made when they were just children. Nothing will harm her, I'd rather die than allow that to happen. I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep Tracey safe and happy.
Tracey shifted, brushing the fringe from his face and then laying her hand on his cheek. "My broody Val, what's bothering you tonight?"
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, allowing it to calm him as the memories came flooding back. "I dreamt that I was back in Mykonos during those first few months," he explained, his voice breaking a little, as only he'd allow when it was the two of them. He knew showing weakness in front of her was all right. She'd never ever call him on it. It was here, with her, that he could be himself - no masks, no façade, no games. "I was stoned as hell and I could see you there, even though I couldn't move. You- you had tears flowing down your face and I knew that it was my fault-"
Tracey cut him off, covering his mouth with hers. She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to say, "I was sad for you, not because of you, Greg. I knew that all I could do was hold you and I wished I could do more, that I could be there for you as you have always been for me. You needed me and I didn't know what to do. That is my fault, my failing, not yours. Never yours."
He felt his chest tighten. Was this his fault? This doubt she had? Didn't she understand that he loved her just as she was, that in his eyes there was nothing wrong with her, that she had no failings - especially where he was concerned? Sliding his hand up her back and burying it in her hair, he brought her mouth to his again, pouring all his feelings for her into the kiss. When the need to breath overcame his need to continue the kiss, he pulled back just a hair. "I wish you wouldn't doubt yourself, Trace. I handled it badly, losing Mum and Vinnie all at once rattled me. Forgive me for being stupid about it?"
She nodded, tucking her face against his neck. He could feel her tears running down his neck. It cut him deep. His voice was low, but full of remorse when he finally said, "Tracey? Maeve? No tears, please. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"Why us? What did we do to anger whatever gods are out there? Are we doomed to always look over our shoulders, waiting and wondering when Potter will try to arrest or kill us? Will this ever end?"
He didn't know the answers, he wished he did. "I wish I knew, Trace. All we can do is fight until we can't fight any more and pray that it is enough. All I know is that I'll do whatever I have to in order for you to have even a small measure of peace."
Her tiny hands slid down his chest, pushing aside the blanket that separated them. "Then we should live for the moment, shouldn't we?" she asked huskily. "Make the most of the time we're given and all that?"
"Yes, yes we should," he responded, flipping them so that she was under him, clad in nothing but one of his button ups. Making short work of the buttons, he breathed deeply at the sight of her. Leaning back, his hands on his knees, he slowly raked his eyes down her body.
He was moving over her when Luthien appeared next to the bed, shaking and stuttering as she slapped a hand over her eyes. "Luthien is so very sorry, Master Val."
Exasperated, Greg quickly covered Maeve, rolling off the side of the bed and tugging on a pair of sleep pants. If the elf had barged in than there must be an emergency. If not, he'd behead her and toss her body off the cliff. "What is wrong, Luthien?"
"Mrs. Zabini is here with her Auror." The clearly terrified elf responded, just loud enough to be heard.
Tracey threw the blanket off, the button up already re-buttoned. As she clambered out of the bed, she asked, "Are they injured?"
Greg Accioed a pair of her own sleep pants and her robe, dropping them into her open arms, waiting for the answer.
"They's not alone, Mistress Maeve, and one they have with them is injured. I've already sent for Mistress' Astrid and Nicola to help."
Already moving towards the door, wand in hand, Greg held out his other hand for Maeve. "Where exactly are they?"
"The main parlour, Master Val."
Greg waved the elf off. "Go and help, Luthien. Merlin knows you cleaned up B, Maeve, Draco, and myself enough to be of assistance. Who is hurt, do you know?"
Luthien shook her head and disappeared with a small pop.
Greg pulled Maeve close, kissing her quickly but soundly. "We will be finishing that later, you realise."
Tracey snickered. "Yes, we will. Now why don't we see what the newest disaster is."
"Might as well," he replied, attempting a bit of humour. "We taking bets on the identity of Stone Walk's newest refugee?"
"A Weasley," Tracey said, tugging on his hand to get him moving down the corridor. "We've three here already, one more wouldn't surprise me in the least."
Conceding her point, he playfully tossed her over his shoulder and hurried down the corridor. "If you're correct, what do I owe you?"
Her response startled him, enough that he stumbled.
"A baby."
He would have turned and walked straight back into the bedroom to make her wish a reality, that was if an unearthly screech of outrage hadn't reverberated through the entirety of Stone Walk at that very moment.
"Oh ruddy hell," Tracey muttered as he set her on her feet and they took off at a dead run.
--**--
They slid into the main parlour side by side, only Greg's quick move to catch her stopping them from falling in a heap on the floor. They nearly fell over again once they got a good look at just which Weasley was laid out on the chaise being healed.
Tracey whirled, rushing across the room to where Ginny was still seething, her wand gripped in her white knuckled fist. "Ginny, George doesn't need you upset. Neither does the baby. What is Draco going to say when he finds out you're getting this upset?"
Greg left calming Ginny to Tracey, not particularly wanting his choicer bits hexed off, and instead joined Kingsley, Blaise, and Callista. He stopped short when he saw who was curled up on Blaise's lap, sobbing uncontrollably. "Lovegood?"
The tiny blonde peeked over Blaise's shoulder, her big blue eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Her tone still had that 'dreamy' quality long associated with her, but currently it was overlain with that flat, emotionless tone that warned him of imminent breakdown. "Why hello, Gregory. You will fix George, won't you? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Greg ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. He recognized the signs - having had them himself- and knew that what she needed was a warm bed and Sleeping Draught. He could question later just why she was comfortable enough with Blaise to be on his lap. "We'll do the best we can. Why don't you allow B to take you up to one of the guest suites? I'll send a house elf with some pajamas and a dose of Sleeping Draught."
Her eyes widened farther than he knew was possible. "I - I -" she stuttered, feebly pointing towards George. "George is hurt. They hurt him because of me."
Blaise murmured something that Greg couldn't quite hear, rubbing her back as he stood, cradling her against his chest. He caught Greg's eye over Luna's bent head, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation of his current mood. "I'll take her to my suite. I can handle calling and elf as well. You calm Ginny and see what the fuck happened."
Greg held up his hands in a surrendering sort of motion. He damn well knew better than to test Blaise when he was this cold and emotionless. It was at moments like this that one wrong word, no matter who you were or how important you were to Blaise, that you risked death by crossing him. Callista had indeed taught her son all the tricks in her repertoire. "You two go, I'll handle things here."
Once Blaise was out of the room, Greg turned to the group crowded around the injured man. "Someone tell me just what the fuck happened. Who the fuck is stupid enough to attack at," he paused, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting the time, "at three in the morning?"
"Harry," Ginny spat vehemently, taking a seat in the overstuffed armchair with Tracey's assistance. "He's completely insane."
"Even Potter isn't this stupid, is he?" Kingsley asked, passing what looked to be a bottle of Skele-Gro to Callista.
Ginny sneered, looking quite a bit like her fiancé in the process. "Luna knew what was between Draco and myself. She helped George sneak me away. I didn't have to be there to know that the little bastard ordered this 'arrest'. Taking Draco to Azkaban obviously wasn't enough punishment."
"Can I kill him now?" Greg asked no one in particular, meaning every bloody word. He and Blaise had been campaigning for the, admittedly rash though thoroughly justified, course of action since they'd returned from Greece. Granger and Weasel King wouldn't have a leg to stand on if their 'fearless leader' was dead and everyone knew it.
"No. As happy a thought as it is, we can't off Potter now."
"Why, Padma," Greg said, turning to the corner of the parlour hidden in shadows. He was nearly used to the former Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs that now seemed to appear in his home with little to no notice what so ever. "I didn't realise you were here. When did you arrive?"
She stepped from the shadows, her expression one of deep anger and disgust. "Long about the time Parv's owl arrived warning me that there were Aurors at her door and that I'd best run like hell."
Greg felt someone coming up behind him and a moment later, Callista laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've got a dozen more people at The Vale, Greg. It seems tonight Potter decided on raiding every known Pureblood household he could get his grubby little hands on the locations for."
Greg very nearly growled aloud. Potter was becoming a pest they needn't deal with any longer. His newest campaign was that all Purebloods were a 'risk' to the safety and security of the post-war Ministry and in turn the Wizarding World on a whole. "Now that Bill and Fleur Weasley are in hiding who does he have breaking the wards?"
"We don't know," Kingsley interjected tightly. "If I knew, I'd slit his or her throat for this. George was only watching out for Luna and he's laying here in a coma for it."
Greg shook his head. There was nothing more they could do- save for eliminating Potter, Granger, and Weasel King immediately - to rectify the current situation. Knowing that the women were doing all they could for George, he crossed the room, crouching down in front of Ginny, taking her ice cold hands in his. "Gin, you need sleep. Tracey will take you up to your room, all right?"
"Not until I know if George will make it or not," she whispered. "I've lost Fred and Draco, I can't lose anyone else, Greg."
He reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I know that, Pet. But, we can't have you and the little Malfoy become ill. Maeve will take you up and sit with you. Padma as well, I'm sure. Draco entrusted you and the wee one to us. Let me handle this and you rest. Just think about it, Gin, in five months you'll have a tiny little red-headed, grey-eyed baby to hold. Think of him, the future we're building so he doesn't have to go through what we have, please."
Padma joined them silently. Her training as an Unspeakable, while fortuitous to them, was slightly discerning to the Slytherins she liked to sneak up on- just to see if she could. "I'm tired, Ginny. I'll stay with you. Greg is correct, there is no need for you and the baby to be sick. Draco would find out, escape from Azkaban and go on a killing spree." She grinned evilly. "Not that I wouldn't pay good money to see that, but it wouldn't help our cause at the moment."
Greg stood, snickering lightly, and let Padma take over. No one, and he meant no one, could cajole like she could. He moved around the chair, leaning down to kiss the corner of Tracey's mouth. "I've got this, Love. Make sure Ginny doesn't do anything rash, please," he whispered in her ear before straightening and stepping back.
She nodded, waving him off.
He motioned for Kingsley to follow him out of the parlour so that they could discuss their next move. So many uncertainties were now apparent. But, the one thing Greg knew was that Potter had just royally screwed himself.
Tonight is the beginning of the end of Potter's reign of terror.