The Radiant

---


By the time Lucius got to the holding cell at the Ministry, it was past three o’clock in the morning.

Ginny was sitting on the bench in the room, her legs folded up underneath her lithe body, her head tilted forward, her arms crossed. She looked petulant and yet also angry, and mainly she looked tired. As Lucius watched, she tilted her neck from side to side, reaching creamy fingers up, feeling along the cords of her muscles, wincing.

When he was let in, the bars clinking, her head raised up completely.

“Lucius.” Ginny’s voice was breathless and exhausted. He looked as she felt—his hair tousled and tangled, his mouth heavy with tiredness, his eyes smudged underneath with deep blue. He sighed heavily, opening his arms to her, and she smiled a watery smile.

“Ginevra,” he breathed back, and he drew her up off of the bench into a soft hold, his hands drifting light on either side of her face. “What on earth happened?” She could see that he was searching her, checking her over for hurts, bumps, bruises, cuts, deeper cuts—his pupils flicked like a metronome, motions from a time long past.

She pulled back slightly, her cheeks a hot pink.

“I cursed—”

Arm raised so delicately, the wrist loose and yet still held tautly, the wand heavy and luscious between the ivory fingers, the energy just thrumming through her, thrumming angrily and yet happily, happy to be let out, happy that she could be at the eye of the storm, happy to be defending her mate, happy to be inflicting pain—

“—an Auror.”

She refused to look down.

Lucius stared back at her, his eyebrows raised in a look of surprise, his mouth only just slightly ajar.

“She cursed one of our intermediate Aurors.”

The voice came from behind them, and Lucius turned carefully.

Gawain Robards was framed in the doorway, his eyes calm and cautious, his arms crossed over his chest, his body squared towards them.

Ginny felt as Lucius immediately straightened—his spine extending, his head thrown back slightly—and she realised that they were squaring off, ever so slightly, but squaring off nonetheless. She darted glances between the two men, nothing the way that Lucius narrowed his eyes. She understood his anger—this man was the head of the Auror department, head of the people that had been harassing him for the past while. Lucius ground his teeth.

“Robards.”

“Malfoy.” The sterile head nod was returned, and the two men looked at each other for a moment. Ginny knew that Lucius wouldn’t bend, and instead waited for Robards to—

Robards shook his head suddenly, his arms going lax and his hands going into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry about my team.” Ginny watched Lucius’ face as Robards talked, noting the slight movements of his blond eyebrows, the muscles twitching around his mouth. “I just realised that they had been taking it upon themselves to—patrol—what I deemed unnecessary.” Ginny didn’t know if Robards was lying, or if he was being truthful, but either way Lucius’ lips relaxed just a mite of a centimetre, and she felt relaxed in turn.

“Apology accepted.”

Lucius let it go so easily, and the tension in the room loosened just a bit.

“And Miss Weasley is here because she sent a particularly nasty hex at an Auror who also took it upon himself to call her an unflattering nickname.”

Ginny extricated herself from Lucius. “He called me the ‘Death Eater whore’. That’s a little worse than unflattering.” She faced Robards testily, her hair coming out of the bun she had pulled it into, her arms on her hips, her muscles tensed. She raised her eyebrows.

Lucius stood back, watching, his arms crossed loosely.

Robards inclined his head. “He has been suspended for a month. You should be getting a written apology from him. I apologise for locking you up, but it was necessary—standard procedure for attacking an Auror.”

Ginny nodded brusquely, her arms coming down from their perch. “I understand.”

“Although I was impressed by the hex you sent his way. It was—repulsive.”

Lucius darted a look at her. “Ginevra—good lord, was it your Bat hex?”

“Bat Bogey Hex.” She frowned at Lucius. “I know it sounds childish, but it’s awful.” Suddenly, she smiled. “I practiced on my brothers.”

Robards stifled a sound that sounded like a laugh.

“Can I go?”

“You can, if you promise to keep your curses away from my Aurors in the future.”

Ginny pursed her lips, looking as though she wished to argue with him, but Robards raised his eyebrows at her, and Lucius had placed a large, warm hand in the centre of her back, so Ginny jerked her head again, sticking out her hand. Robards shook it firmly, and she turned to walk out of the cell.

“Oh—Ms. Weasley.”

Ginny turned back.

“You should talk with your brother.”

“Which one, Auror Robards?” Here voice was strong. “There are quite a few of them, as I recall.”

“The Auror one.” Robards narrowed his eyes. “He might be able to tell you why your new boyfriend’s house is always being searched. Or maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I think you should talk with him about it either way.”

Ginny clenched her jaw, feeing the grit of her teeth grind into each other. Lucius’s face had become immobile and stony.

She nodded.

“I’ll do that.”

And with that statement hanging heavily in the air of the holding cell, Ginny and Lucius left, his hand across her back, her jaw tight.

---

As soon as they were outside and settled in the plush benches of his carriage, Lucius turned to her.

“What the hell happened?”

Ginny winced, running a hand through her hair. He seemed irritated, but mainly he seemed tired, his eyes half-closed as the coach took off—through the air—back to the Manor.

“I’m sorry, Lucius. I just got so angry.” His eyes had slipped closed. “They were back at the Manor, ready to terrorize, and when that one blockhead called me ‘the whore’—” She sighed. “I lost my temper.”

“Hm.” He hummed a low response, his eyes still shut. “And you slung a Bat Bogey Hex at him?”

Ginny nodded, and then realised that he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

“And they took you into custody?”

“Yes. It’s standard protocol for anyone who attacks an Auror. Robards, luckily, levelled the charges because of the insult.” Ginny lowered her head. “I got so angry that they were back at the Manor, trying to terrorize you again. I just kept thinking how dare they, and I hadn’t duelled in so long, Lucius. So long.”

— the waving flair of the hand, fluid on top of the wrist, the bellow of energy that travels through the body when the aim is set in motion, the absolute power —

“I’m sorry.” She spoke softly.

Lucius sighed and replied, his eyes still closed. “The media is going to have a field day with this.”

“I know. I know that irritates you—I know it’s your least favourite thing, the media. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m mainly glad that you’re safe. Coming home to the Manor at three in the morning—with Balius in such a state—and you not there. I was—I was worried.”

“You were scared,” Ginny said, feeling a thousand times more awful. “I didn’t even think what it would be like for you. I just acted on my impulses—my anger.”

“Which is part of the reason why I adore being with you so much.” A slight smile was around his mouth, his eyes still closed. “I may be an old stick-in-the-mud now, but I was young and vital once too. I remember how pleasurable duelling was—the power that one felt while doing it—I remember what it felt like to give into anger. Wonderful. Come here.” He extended his arm out, and Ginny slid along the seat, leaning into him, turning her face in to his travelling cloak, smelling smoke and salt and spice. “Just be careful about how much anger you act on.” He breathed. “But I’m thinking that you should talk to your brother.” He said the word brother as one would say an expletive—heavy and as though the word tasted foul and sharp.

Ginny could feel his chest tense and angry under her hands.

“I sure as hell will,” she muttered. “I don’t even—I haven’t talked to him since the night I told the entire family. This might explain some things. I really, truly hope he isn’t behind this. Ron is—Ron was my closest friend in the family. He was closest to me in age, and he protected me—too much at times, but protected me nonetheless.” Ginny winced. “God, I hope he isn’t behind this. But if he is—if he is—I’ll kill him.”


---


Lucius hadn’t even removed his clothing. He had simply fallen face-first onto the bed—on top of the bedclothes, his travelling gloves still on. Ginny had taken his shoes off, and had struggled with his cloak before giving up and just lying down beside him, still in her dress from lunch, her legs curled up under her, an arm thrown across his back.


---


“Good morning.” Ginny was sitting at the dressing table, brushing out her hair and starting to plait it.

Lucius cracked an eye open.

“You’re going to have sleep-lines all over your face from the coverlet.” She turned to him. “I tried to get you under the covers but you’re too heavy for me. And I was afraid that if I rolled you, you would roll off the bed.”

He raised his head. “What time is it?” His voice sounded smudged.

“Ten o’clock. Here are the papers.” She held up the Daily Prophet. “I didn’t make the front page on this one, thank god. Cuffe owled me this morning to reprimand me thoroughly for my ‘reprehensible behaviour’, but then amended that since my ‘antics’ are selling more papers, he can’t fire me. Charming.” She set the Prophet down and picked up The Quibbler. “I’m the front page on this one, but the article seems to take my side. Bless the influence of Luna. Witch Weekly, however, is the worst. The writers seem to agree that I am, in fact, a whore.” She set all of the papers all down on the loveseat beside her, her eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Annoying.”

Lucius blinked twice and made a grunting sound.

“Sorry—you haven’t woken up properly yet.” Ginny high-stepped over to the bed, and sat beside him. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

There was an unintelligible noise from beside her.

“Come on. Take your outerwear off and I’ll work the kinks out from your shoulders.” She struggled with his cloak, only managing it when he partially lifted his torso. “Shirt too.” He mumbled something but undid the buttons, letting her pull it out from under him.

Ginny straddled his naked waist, a pale calf pressing into his bare sides, his ribs, and she began to knead at his trapezius muscles. “You’re tight.” Lucius responded by groaning into the mattress. She continued. “Was the meeting that stressful?”

“No,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the linens. “Not so much. We worked it out. The travelling took it out of me, though. And I had odd dreams last night. And—I was worried about you until I knew where you were.”

She bent to kiss him at the back of his neck. He shifted underneath her.

“I don’t care about the papers,” he said.

“Me neither.”

She dug her thumbs into the thick muscles of his back, relishing the jump of his skin underneath her hands. He made a moaning sound, and burrowed his head farther into the linens.

“I have to work these knots out,” she murmured, flexing her fingers against him, feeling the cords of muscle yield under her hands. His skin was so hot—scorching, really—and it warmed her from her thighs, her calves, beneath her nightgown, along her forearms.

Ginny slid forward along his body, resting her head on the broadest part of his naked back, between his shoulder blades, her entire body resting along his. She sighed, and kissed his skin again, turning her head and settling her cheek on his back. Her hands trailed up and down his sides absentmindedly.

Lucius hummed in pleasure beneath her.

“Did you get rid of your birth control potion?”

When he spoke, her entire body buzzed with it.

“Yes,” she breathed, biting his ear lightly.

There was another beat of silence until Ginny spoke again.

“How’s your bum?”

He actually burst out laughing at her comment, and only answered when Ginny reached down and pinched him.

“Uncomfortable. Why do you think I’m sleeping on my front? Now your heavy body is on top of it—all my poor bruises. The salt miners thought I was insane—I stood through all of the meetings”

She flicked his ear. “Don’t be rude.”

He turned under her, setting her in the same straddling position on his lower torso.

“Two nights ago was wonderful, Ginevra. Thank you. I’m thrilled that we mesh so well together when it comes to the more alternative side of sex. I haven’t been whipped like that in ages. It was delicious.” He pulled her down to his face, kissing her deeply, thrusting his tongue inside of her mouth and holding her face in place with a broad palm on each side of her jaw. Ginny whimpered softly against him, immobile against his onslaught.

He released her face, running his hands up along the silk of her sleepwear, tugging and pulling the nightgown off of her. He threw it to the side, letting it flutter down to the floor beside the bed, and lifted his hips obligingly as she undid his pants and slid them off, re-settling into her position from before. Lucius kissed her again, his hands settling on her waist.

“Ride me,” he murmured, and she used her hands to slide him inside of her, gasping as he used his feet—flattened out on the bed— as leverage to push up farther into her—so far it was nearly uncomfortable, nearly painful, but not quite, not yet.

Ginny leaned forward, letting him wrap his arms around her back and tangle his hands in her hair, and let him dictate the thrusts. He used his legs to power into her waiting body, her mouth becoming lost in his hair, trailing along his ears and neck, his own lips across her jaw.

They moved together silently, the only sounds punctuating the deep quiet being Lucius’ slight exhales and soft grunts and the light catches of Ginny’s voice along her throat. She was content to let him dictate the pace and the thrusts, and Lucius was relishing in having his hands all over her skin after being away from her.

On a particularly hard thrust, Ginny cried out into his ear, and Lucius came alive below her, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, slowing her movements, lifting her off of his length, his spine straight. Ginny sat back, legs askew, between his thighs, looking at him quizzically, the flesh between her legs pink and moist and unsatisfied.

“Lie back,” he said, and she complied wordlessly, settling back on the bed between the vee of his outstretched legs. He took her calves and set them on his shoulders, and pulled at her hips, moving her closer to him, he still sitting upright and she supine between his thighs.

Lucius spat copiously into his hand and rubbed it along his cock, mixing the saliva with her arousal.

Ginny waited, breathless.

When he lined himself up against her anus and began to rock his hips forward, Ginny cried out.

“Relax,” he soothed, a thumb circling down along her mons and across her clitoris. She closed her eyes and tried to release her tensed muscles as he prodded against her, one hand gripping her hips tightly, the other hand teasing her.

“I’m relaxed,” she breathed back, a hand coming down to grip at the arm that was holding her still.

As she suddenly released her muscles and bore out against him, he surged his pelvis forward, and suddenly they melted together, Lucius sliding all the way into her, deep and hot, pushing past her querulous muscles, his hips against her buttocks and his grip tightening on her flesh.

Ginny opened and closed her mouth again and again, soundless at the feeling of him so deep inside of her. Her head was tossed back, her neck forming an arch along the bed sheets.

Lucius closed his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through his nose, and when he opened his eyes, he looked down between their bodies.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and began to rock his hips forward, his hands trailing up to grip at her thighs.

Ginny made an intensely guttural sound as Lucius pulled out nearly all the way, bending his head forward to spit on his length again, using the tips of his fingers to spread it around. When he pushed back in, she cried out, grabbing at his knees, feeling the tensed muscles there.

He started slow but his thrusts became deep and jarring, each withdrawal leaving Ginny gasping and each plunge back in moving her across the sheets, her breasts bouncing, his eyes tacked to her nipples.

She drew a hand down between her legs and began to circle her clitoris.

“Jesus, Lucius—” Her voice was hoarse and her fingers fast.

“How does it feel?” He sounded nearly desperate, his head dropping forward. “God, I’m going to come soon. I’m not going to last. I’m not going to last. You’re so tight—so hot—your ass is so goddamned tight.”

“So deep—it’s almost too deep—I don’t know—it’s good and it’s painful, both at the same time—” Ginny’s eyes were on him, and his fingers tightened, digging into her flesh. “You’re the only man I’ve ever let do this to me—”

Lucius grunted and withdrew, turning her over so quickly she didn’t have time to react, putting her on her hands and knees, rearing up on his own knees, and thrusting back inside of her so rapidly that the breath was knocked out of her.

His thrusts were hard and aggressive, one of his hands wrapped in her hair, forcing her head back and up, the grip so tight that she couldn’t even turn to watch him. She realised that this was his way of taking out his anger and fear about the Aurors—if he couldn’t establish his supremacy over them, if he couldn’t sway them into bending to his will, if he had to just bear their onslaught quietly, then he was going to use her to boost his ego and his pride. And she was just fine with that.

“Oh god, fuck me. Fuck me,” she hissed, and her fingers dug into the bedspread as his other hand slid between her legs, rubbing mercilessly. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.” She was chanting, now, and suddenly he straightened behind her, his hips jerking gracelessly, and then she felt him come inside of her, nearly stinging her. His hand continued its ministrations even through his orgasm, and she came just after him, her back arching up as a cat might, her anal muscles contracting and releasing so viciously that he actually cried out in near pain behind her.

Lucius slid out of her heavily, biting the top of her buttocks lightly, blowing lightly on her reddened entrance, and Ginny made a tortured sound, falling forward.

“Now we’ll both have trouble sitting,” he mumbled, licking across her skin where her buttocks met her thighs.

“Bad man,” she murmured weakly, turning to face him, still on her back. He lowered himself to her, rubbing his softening length against her mons shamelessly. “No chance for a baby this time, though.”

“We’ll try again.”

---

She winced as she sat down in the chair for dinner.

When she heard something that sounded suspiciously like a chortle coming from opposite her, she looked up. Lucius was grinning at her from across the table.

“If that was just a game of tit-for-tat, it was the most perverted one I’ve ever played,” she said.

“Oh,” he said suddenly. “Did you talk with Ms. Granger?”

Ginny looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “Yes, actually. But firstly—were you kind to her when she Floo called?”

Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“Lucius.”

“I was cordial, albeit somewhat cool.”

“What did you say? She said you were fine to her, but—”

“She did?” His face relaxed into an interesting mix of partial revulsion, partial pride. “I was mainly impressed that she had the bravery to call the Manor. That took a great deal of courage, I thought. More courage than she even displayed in our drawing room, here—that night.” Ginny shivered. “I simply told her that you were still asleep.”

“I’m assuming that you alluded to our activities the night before.” Ginny arched an eyebrow at him.

Lucius smirked. “Not the exact activities, but yes, I’m sure she had an inkling of why you were still asleep at ten-thirty in the morning. It didn’t seem to shake her, though.”

“She’s not as much of a prude as you might have thought she is.” Ginny took another spoonful of her soup.

“She could always join us.”

Ginny spat her soup out into her bowl, looking up at her smiling partner. “All right, Lucius. Why don’t you ask a Muggleborn to share your bed? Not bloody likely.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to be around her more than necessary.”

Ginny tilted her head at him. “Don’t be so rude. You’re going to have to see her quite a bit, especially if I’m going to be carrying your child.”

He sighed. “I know that you’re right. I’m working against decades of rearing, here, and I’m trying. I realise that she is one of your closest female friends, and I appreciate her efforts to be civil to me and to accept our relationship.” He wiped his mouth.

“She won’t take any of your shit, you realise. She smacked your son across the face when she was only thirteen. Apparently he nearly cried. And she reclaimed the term ‘Mudblood.’ Because she never really knew about the word before coming to Hogwarts, it doesn’t hold as much weight for her.”

“I don’t blame her for hitting Draco. He was insufferable at that age.”

Ginny snorted. “He was insufferable from age eleven through to seventeen. And probably beyond.”

“True.” Lucius exhaled. “I won’t try to bait her.”

“You will, regardless.”

“Yes, but I won’t try.”

Ginny shook her head. “If it comes down to it, you just might have to absent when she visits.”

Lucius’ face turned a bit pale at the thought of Hermione Granger being back in the Manor. “We’ll play it by ear. I was civil to her when we spoke.”

“Yes, she seemed rather surprised at that.”

“It’s going to take me a while, Ginevra.” His face was honest, now. “I will do everything I can to keep you in my life and to keep you happy, but I know that this will take me a while to cope with.”

“I know,” she sighed. “That’s why I’m unsure if my family will ever come around to me—with you—they are considerably more short-tempered than Hermione. And Harry—”

Lucius made a sound of revulsion in his throat.

Ginny scowled. “What?”

“Potter.”

“Potter is, so far, the person who best accepts our relationship. I cannot afford to picky, here.” Ginny dropped her head forward into her heads, scrubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms. “And I cannot disregard him just because you hate him.”

“I dislike him far more than Miss Granger. And that carries weight, because Potter has a better birth status than she does.” Lucius frowned, his mouth turning down. “I hate him because he—”

“—Had me first.” Ginny met his eyes. “And don’t lie. That’s the goddamned reason.”

“Partly,” he replied stiltedly. “I hate him because he was better than Draco, and because he was better than me, and because he caused so much grief for the family—”

“You caused your own grief!” Ginny stood up, her voice elevating to a shriek as she unwittingly upset her soup bowl, the bisque spreading out in a red stain across the tablecloth. Lucius stared at her, his face impassive. “You caused your own grief, Lucius Malfoy. And now I’m sick of talking to you about this, because you clearly can’t even fathom blaming yourself, which surprises me considering all of the things you told me that one night—in the bath, in the bed.”

She strode out of the dining room, her eyes glittering hard with tears.

He toyed with the silverware.


---


She heard him as he came into the bedroom, the sliver of pale hallway light falling across the carpeted floor. She didn’t turn to look at him, still on her side as though she were sleeping. Ginny heard him freeze as he entered the room, as though he weren’t expecting her to be in their bed.

He took his time disrobing, shutting doors slowly, carefully, walking softly as though not to wake her, although she was sure that he knew she was not asleep—he had senses like someone supernatural.

The bed depressed behind her, the warm, deep scent of him enveloping her body.

Ginny sighed. He ran a warm palm down the curving side length of her body, then slipped that arm around her waist.

She remained turned away from him.

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken into her ear, and she sighed again. “I can never seem to apologize to you by the light of day. It’s always by night. By dark. I suppose that makes me cowardly in some way.”

“At least you apologize,” she murmured.

He pressed his body against hers. “I’ll try harder.”

“Your pride, Lucius. It will be your downfall.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice low, his arm tightening around her waist, his hands turning her toward him. “You shouldn’t cry because of me.” His rough thumbs brushed away her tears.

“I don’t mean to. I don’t cry very often, anyway.” She exhaled shakily and let herself be pliable for him. He tucked her head in beneath his chin, kissing her hair.

“Don’t leave me.” His words were whispered but she caught them.

“I don’t think I can.”

It wasn’t a definite no, and Lucius could hear the warning underneath her softly spoken words, but for the moment, she was accepting his shortcomings, and he drew her back into him, cradling her buttocks with the sharp angles of his pelvis and hips, kneading a hand through her hair, listening to her breathing until she fell asleep.

---


The next day, Ginny showed up at the Auror Academy.

When Rob ambled out of the offices onto the training field, her breath caught in her throat. It had been a while since she had seen him, and he had changed—or maybe he hadn’t, but he looked different, taller, more burnished, more vibrant. He was laughing at something that one of his colleagues was saying, and he looked good. He looked well. Ginny was simultaneously saddened by the loss of her brother in her life, and happy for his new gains, his new career, his new life.

When he saw her, he stopped short.

“Hi,” Ginny murmured.

His colleagues melted away tactfully, mumbling excuses, and the two of them were left facing each other on the training field, Ron’s soft, short hair moving in the breeze, her long curls whipping around her face.

He said nothing, but his lower lip shook slightly, and Ginny ached to see it.

“I’m here—” She cleared her throat and started again. “I’m here to ask you about the recent Auror raids on the Manor, Ron.”

He was still impassive, staring back at her.

“Robards told me to ask you about them, and I wanted to know if you had anything to do with them, or—or—anything” She finished lamely and found that she couldn’t look him in the face—she had to stare at the earth.

“Yes,” he said, his voice somehow lower than she remembered, gruffer, more like a man—

“Yes?” She lifted her head, her eyes stinging.

“Partially,” he mumbled.

“Why?” Her voice sounded tortured and fraught, and even he winced to hear it.

“Because I hate him,” he suddenly yelled at her, and Ginny started, her eyes widening at his tone. “I hate him—” and his voice was lowered to a hissing level, and there were tears in his eyes, maybe, and Ginny reached out to touch his face, and he jerked away. “Don’t—don’t do that.”

“Ron,” she began, but he shook his head so quickly he was almost a blur. “Ron. You can’t do that. Do you know that they came last night?”

He nodded tersely.

“And do you know that I ended up in a Ministry holding cell because I hexed one?” Her voice was rising, frantic and loud. “Because I hexed one! Because he called me a whore, Ron. Because they all laughed at me, and I was alone, on the doorstep, surrounded by men who I didn’t know. And why? Because you sent them? Because you tipped them off to the Manor, told them to come? To harass Lucius and therefore also harass me? I don’t—I can’t—” She shook her head, tears tracking down her face. “You may think I’m a whore too, but no one can say that. Nobody can say that.”

Ron winced.

“I miss you so much,” she whispered. “But I’m not leaving Lucius either. And it’s not going away, so you have to deal with it, or you have to leave me alone forever. Forever.” She straightened her spine and wiped roughly at her tears. “And I refuse to cry over this anymore. I’ve done too much of that since mum slapped me.”

He flinched again, and then spoke quietly. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I just think that I’ve lost my sister.”

“I was lost when I was eleven, Ron. No, I was lost when Harry came into the picture. Or I was lost even when I was born. Youngest sibling, all boys, only girl, older brother one of the Golden Trio, friend of Harry Potter, ex-girlfriend of Harry Potter—I was always lost. Can’t you see that?”

When he didn’t answer, she sighed.

“Please don’t send the Aurors anymore. Please. And—and—you know that I’m only an owl away. Really. I miss you.” She grabbed at his hand and held it, hard, for a split second before dropping it.

Her hair blew wildly as she walked away, billowing out behind her in red whorls, and Ron could catch the scent of her on the air. When he blinked, the tears came.

---