"Honestly, Charlie, you really ought to keep the front door warded better! We could have been anyone!" Molly’s voice rang out, instantly filling the small space.

Charlie scrambled to his feet, shielding Rose behind him as his instinctual reflexes took over, but he froze when he realized who stood in the entryway. Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Fleur, and there three children were standing there, their traveling cloaks still damp from the outside air, looking entirely out of place in your cozy, remote living room.

The air in the room shifted instantly. The warmth of the afternoon was replaced by a sudden, heavy tension.

Molly had been in the middle of a complaint about the journey, but the words died in her throat the moment her eyes landed on the scene. She looked from Charlie, who was standing defensively with his wand half drawn, to you on the couch, and finally down to Rose, who was peering out from behind Charlie’s legs with wide, wary eyes.

Bill’s eyes narrowed, his gaze darting from the girl to you, and the recognition hit him like a physical blow. He remembered you from school. He remembered the headlines. His posture straightened, his hand going to his own wand, though his expression was less of an attack and more of a confused, protective shield.

"Charlie," Bill said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. "Is that a Malfoy?"

Charlie didn't lower his wand. He didn't stutter, and he didn't offer a half-hearted excuse. He stood his ground, his hand resting firmly on Rose's shoulder, his entire posture screaming that whoever crossed this threshold had to go through him first.

"She is my daughter," Charlie said, his voice cold and definitive. "And this is my home. You are welcome to stay, but you will treat them with respect, or you can turn around and leave right now."