I came to who knows how long after. I blinked slowly, mentally checking over my parts. As far as I could tell, they were all still there. Still there, but not moving very well. A second of panic, then I realized I was being held in place. Body-binding spell. A good one. Whoever had me knew what they were doing.
"Good morning, Miss Granger." A low voice from across the room.
"I see the maid hasn't been in," I said. I might not be able to see much but it smelled like a dragon's cave.
"Clever." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, though I couldn't immediately place it. "Though I'm afraid your legendary cleverness won't be of much use to you." I blinked a few more times, trying to adjust to the dim light. It didn't take long. One of the benefits of nocturnal living.
The room was empty except for a low-hanging shaded lamp. Hanging right over me. I was seated in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the place. Interrogation-style. The voice was in front of me, must've been coming from the dark shape lurking in the corner. No windows. Could've been morning, for all I knew. Most likely it was one of those pseudo-witty things the bad guys are always saying.
"What's this about?" I said, hard as I could. Might as well get off to a good start.
"No need to be defensive, Miss Granger. This is just a friendly chat."
"Oh yeah? That explains the Body-Bind. And the comfortable décor."
"I'm sorry if the accommodations are less than your usual standards. Though from what I've seen you should feel right at home."
"What are you talking about?" This guy had been in my flat. None of this was sounding good. Especially since it could be about anything.
"You have something of mine." The shape moved around the room, just out of the light. The voice was making me crazy. I ran down the list of people who might want to knock me out and bind me up. I stopped when I got to the G's. It would take more time than I figured I had to work my way through the entire alphabet.
"Oh yeah? What's that, your back issues of the Prophet? Or maybe you're after four crates of empty bottles." Being flip was never a good idea when you're trapped in a windowless room by an unseen bad guy. I was reminded of this by a sharp jolt of pain. "Easy there, pal," I groaned. "You're gonna hurt somebody."
"I was hoping not," the voice said, just behind me. I thought about trying to turn, trying to dredge up some of my old magical skills to break the spell, but the blunt pressure of a wand against the back of my head made me think again. "But that depends entirely on you, Miss Granger."
"Enough of this "miss" business. I haven't been a "miss" since Hogwarts."
"Fair enough."
"So what's this about? You say I've got something of yours. I hate to break it to you, but you've obviously been at my place. I don't even have something of mine."
A piece of parchment materialized in front of me. Malfoy's dossier.
"Malfoy?" I cried. "What the fuck?"
"Not Malfoy," the voice replied. Didn't sound like him anyway.
"So who, then? Come on, buddy, I've got plans later."
"Oh, I know." I hated it when the villain tried to outsmart me.
"So you think you could give me a hand? It's great that we get to play Baby's First Interrogation, but I can save you the trouble and just let you know all I've got on Pansy Malfoy is a little hearsay and a little gossip."
"I'm not in the least interested in Pansy Malfoy," the voice hissed.
"So . . . Draco, then? Sure he's a slimy fuck but I suppose he's not without his charms." The pain shot through me again. "All right, all right. Please kind sir, do enlighten me. I promise to be a very good girl and listen quiet as a church mouse."
"I don't recall that being your style, Granger."
So I did know him. Whoever he was. The voice. I racked my brain, trying to identify it. Problem was it only sounded half-familiar. Like they'd applied a transforming charm to it to fool me. If that was the case I was sunk. I'd have to try wit and charm. Unfortunately my stores of both had been pretty much exhausted over the years.
"So what is my style, then? I'd hope it's a little more subtle than yours."
"It's all a matter of degrees, Granger. A matter of experience."
"Yeah?"
"You're someone with a great deal more . . . experience than you let on. Very adept at hiding. At sneaking around. At not getting caught."
"That explains my present situation, then, doesn't it?" My captor didn't bother with a spell and whacked me hard upside the head with his wand. What I wouldn't give to rub that spot. Or to use a little rough stuff of my own.
"You're not the only one good at hiding. At sneaking around. At taking things without getting caught."
This guy was starting to get on my nerves. I didn't mind it when people threatened me. It made the day more interesting. But when they went to such lengths to be mysterious it always struck me as more than a little showy. "Enough small talk," I snapped. "I'm a busy girl."
"Oh yes. Very busy." It sounded like the bastard was smiling. Not smiling. Smirking. "Terribly sorry to interrupt your packed social schedule, but I'm sure Mrs. Potter won't mind waiting just a little."
My blood boiled. It was one thing to Stun me and stick me in a foul-smelling room. It wasn't the first time, Merlin knows. But to bring Ginny into it took it to a whole other level. "Stay away from her," I growled.
"I might advise you to do the same thing, Granger." He was pissed. And not like I wished I was. "I might advise you to stay just as far away from her as you can."
"Oh yeah?" This asshole was clearly looking for a fight. If I had only been able to move my fingers I would've shown him all the pain he wanted.
"Most definitely."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because she doesn't belong to you."
"Doesn't belong to me? Last time I checked, pal, she doesn't belong to anyone."
I must've said something he didn't like because there was a bright flash and then everything went dark.
When I awoke again I had a splitting headache. And my cheek was cold and damp. In fact, my entire body was cold and damp. And sore. And gritty. I twitched my fingers experimentally and felt what seemed to be wet pavement. I groaned and opened my eyes. Street level, judging from the proximity of the car barreling down the road straight for me.
I jerked hard and rolled out of its path. It barreled past me without slowing down. Close call.
I pushed myself up gingerly. Whatever the mysterious bastard had hit me with had left a lasting impression.
"I thought I told you not to come back," an amused voice sneered from behind me.
"Yeah, well, listening isn't one of my strengths," I grumbled. I turned around. Zabini was leaning against the door of his club, arms crossed, a thin smile slicing across his face.
"Clearly," he said.
"So you were just gonna let that car hit me?"
He shrugged. "Accidents happen."
"What about the old days, Blaise? All that inter-house camaraderie?" I needed a drink and how.
"The old days were a long time ago, Granger, and we were never friends."
"Don't have to tell me twice," I muttered. "So are you going to invite me in or what? I'm parched."
"Not open yet. Only four-thirty. So sorry."
"Come on, Zabini. I know you want to."
"You couldn't pay for it even if I did let you in." He had a point.
I couldn't believe I was about to say what I was about to say. "Please?" The hope of a drink made a person do crazy things.
He smirked. "Since you asked so nicely." He stepped into the dim Grotto, not bothering to hold the door. I caught it just before it latched shut. Pompous prick.
It was empty. I could still feel the malice in the air, though, and I reminded myself not to stick around too long. Didn't want to catch something. Zabini walked behind the bar and poured out a glass of scotch. Good stuff, too. The wages of sin bought some fancy drink. "Put it on my tab," I said and tossed half of it back.
"Don't worry about it," Zabini said, obviously forcing the words out. "This one's on Pansy."
Pansy?
I didn't know whether to ask Zabini about it or just finish the drink. The pain in my head urged the latter. As I threw it back Zabini sighed heavily. "I'm not staying long, pal. Obviously I got dumped in front of your dump for a reason." He stiffened. "And a very charming dump it is, too," I added hastily. "So why is Pansy Malfoy buying my drinks?"
"Don't ask me," he said. "I don't know why Pansy does half of what she does."
"But she's been around since . . . yesterday?"
"She was here yesterday, Granger, you idiot."
With Ginny. I didn't want to think too hard about it.
"So why the sudden largesse?" Sometimes I could fish a fancy word out from that brain of mine.
"I don't ask too many questions," he said. He looked nervous. It couldn't be. Zabini, proprietor of one of the shadiest of the many shady businesses on this side of town, nervous about a dame? "Last night she just said if you ever came back I should give you what you asked for."
"I didn't know you were in the business of taking orders from the wives of disgraced wizards." The comment cut deep. Zabini's eyes flashed.
"Malfoy's got more power than you know about, Granger," he snapped, then immediately clenched his fists. Not like he was going to hit me. I knew what that looked like. This looked like he was going to hit himself. For saying something he shouldn't have. I was about to open my mouth and probably say something I shouldn't have when the door swung open. Zabini jumped. It was the same bored-looking waitress from the night before. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked coldly. Zabini shook his head.
"Miss Granger was just on her way out."
"Cut it out with the "miss" stuff, Zabini. Do I look like a "miss" to you?"
He eyed me. "You look more like a "what" to me," he sneered. I didn't care. I knew his pride had been shaken. Always happy to help out a friend. I set my glass back down on the counter with a little pang of regret. It was good stuff, all right. Pansy Malfoy had my number. Must've gotten it from—
I shook my head and turned to leave. As I was going out the door Zabini called after me. I looked back at him.
"Pansy says you look good, Granger. Can't say as I agree with her, but we have very different tastes." So I was right about him.
"You tell Pansy she can tell me in person next time," I replied. "I usually don't go for her kind, but hey, I owe her one." Let the door swing closed behind me. Stood on the street for a minute rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head where it had had a friendly conversation with the goon's wand.
As I trudged back to my flat I mulled over the conversation I'd had with Zabini. Malfoy had more power than I thought. But how? He'd been practically in seclusion since the war. Hadn't started any businesses that I knew about, and I made it my business to know about those things. And Pansy. What was she doing in all of it? She was just Malfoy's arm candy. His cover. Never thought a Parkinson would lend anybody any respectability, but when you'd sunk as low as Malfoy I guessed you took what you could get. But she seemed to have a little power of her own, if she could make Zabini quiver. And Pansy would've know about my penchant for the good stuff from Ginny.
Ginny. Her face flashed through my brain and along with it a little pinch. She was mixed up in something, all right. I thought about the mysterious voice from earlier. Because she doesn't belong to you. But who did she belong to, then? Whoever it was who had whacked me upside the skull? It was somebody I knew. Why else would he hide in the dark and charm his voice?
Something started buzzing in the back of my brain. Where I kept what little sense I had left. I didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel good. Felt like Arithmancy, but all the numbers were jumbled up. Something about Harry's disappearance. About Malfoy. About Pansy. About Ginny.
I huffed up the stairs to my flat, not even noticing the landlady screeching at me from her doorway. I fit the key into the lock and realized a second later I shouldn't have bothered. The lock was broken. The door swung open to reveal a state of disarray not even I could've come up with. Papers were scattered everywhere, pulpy sludge tracked across the floor. My desk had been flipped, the drawers scattered around the room. The couch, where I'd found heaven only a few hours earlier, was shredded. I sighed, reached in my back pocket for my wand. Fortunately it hadn't been damaged as much as I had. Only a couple of minor scratches. I flicked the wand around the room and managed to clean up most of the mess. Not that it mattered that much anyway. I knew nothing was missing, except Malfoy's case file. I couldn't say how I knew, it was just a way I had.
I wondered briefly why whoever had done it had gone to so much trouble. Breaking the lock when they could've just used Alohomora. Making a point, I guessed. Point made. Didn't change my mind about going to Malfoy's party any. If anything, today had reaffirmed my decision even more. I'd have to be careful about Ginny, though. If she was mixed up in this it wouldn't be good to find myself in a compromising position. I thought about the previous night. I'd miss those compromising positions. But sacrifices had to be made.
I halfheartedly looked to see if my bottle of scotch had escaped unscathed, and was more than a little shocked to find it sitting intact on the windowsill. More than a little shocked, and more than a little grateful. The alcohol burned going down and made me miss the smoothness of Zabini's drink. Oh well. Hopefully I'd come out of this with a little money. Enough to buy a bottle. Hopefully I wouldn't come out of it dead.