Draco never expected a Weasley gathering to be easy. He never expected to have things in common with them, other than Bill. The Weasleys grew up in a way he was completely unfamiliar with, rag-tag and hobbled together and 7 siblings falling over each other, in and out of lives and rooms and he never expected he could understand them. He never expected a lot of things.

He never expected to be disinherited, penniless, except for a small bequest from Uncle Vergil that could support him completely for about 6 months without an outside source of income.

He never expected to watch his classmates dying, not just one or two, a Death Eater here, a soldier of Dumbledore's there, blood a crisp red on the winter snow, but scores of them, his class, and the years above and below, emptied on the fields of Britain. Marcus Flint gutted by diffindo, Pansy avada-ed, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Millie, all gone, and with them Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, Gryffindors leading the way to bloodshed, with Dumbledore and McGonagall in front of them, and Flitwick, Vector, Sinistra, Trelawny who never saw her own death coming, Hooch and Sprout and Hagrid, the oaf with his brother, crushed by giants bigger and crueller than either of them, and Snape, Snape was the only one left, locked in a cell in Azkaban by a Minister who fled the country and spilled his life on foriegn soil.

And Weasleys, so many Weasleys, their hair bright against skin pale from bloodloss, Ron and both twins, Percy, Charlie, and Bill only had one sibling left, and a mother and father too stricken with grief to turn away an extra son, even if his last name was Malfoy.

His family is bigger now than he ever expected--Molly and Arthur, Ginny, Bill (always and forever, Bill) and with Bill the Gryffindors, young and brave and grief-stricken like the rest of the world. Potter, silent and grave on the Quidditch pitch. Remus Lupin, who takes his Wolfsbane with a tired smile and murmured thanks, eyes nearly as dead as Severus'. Luna Lovegood, who sees what Trelawny couldn't, and guides the Ravenclaws as wisely as Flitwick did once. Hermione, who offered to revert to her maiden name so there wouldn't be two Professor Weasleys, and keeps a small picture of Ron by her bedside, so she can keep him informed of her life. Zacharias who teaches Charms and guards his Hufflepuffs from dangers he once thought didn't exist. Malcolm, the first Slytherin to teach Herbology in 200 years, the job that should've gone to Neville if he were alive. Penelope, who watches the stars for signs. Dennis, who survived his brother and desperately tries to instill in the students an understanding of Muggles and a lack of prejudice. Viktor, not quite as adept at Transfigurations as McGonagall, but who makes a good Black Duck nonetheless. Argus and Irma, whom he detested as a student, and who guard the hallways and the books that young eyes should never see. Wilhelmina, who permanently took over for Hagrid only after seeing his dead body for herself. And of course, his Slytherins. His precious 33, up from 25 the year before (25, when he hadn't a single Seventh Year left, and now there are two of them, quiet as all war-orphans, and determined to make things better). It would be crass to call them his children, but he holds them close and helps them and worries over them and Severus gave them to him, Severus who is only surpassed in his heart by Bill. Severus, who watches them all with eyes that once saw the halls of Hogwarts overflowing, and now have seen too much of empty spaces.

Tomorrow is Ginny's wedding--a thing of joy, happiness, a stark contrast to the world he is used to--and then she too will be at Hogwarts, and perhaps will bring more people with her, if not tomorrow then in 9 months, or a year, little faces to fill the gaps and make them smile.

Remus is more than twice her age, but there was never a fuss. Love is too rare these days, and the Weasleys have lost too many sons to risk a daughter.

"Come to bed," Bill murmurs against his neck. "It's late."

He lets himself be led away from his musings and into Bill's arms, lets the peace he had once given up hope of finding roll over him.

Tomorrow is Ginny's wedding, and the rooms of the Burrow will be filled with people, friends and family and Draco never expected to belong in such a place.

He does.