She was like a wave breaking on a rock. And like a wave when it broke upon a rock, it showered and sparkled like droplets of water in the sun. Yet beneath that dazzle was a hard rock fused with, in her case, unwavering principles, steadfast courage and a strong sense of duty.

He wouldn't have had her any other way.

.

·

It was another Sunday night. Draco had taken a break from playing the piano and grabbed a bottle of whisky from Owens, hustling Ginny to a secluded table behind the bar, away from the smoke and noise. They were discussing possible anchors—again.

Ginny took a sip of her water and rolled it along her tongue, swallowed, and picked up a pen. "I think we can narrow down the list."

"Oh yeah?" Draco held up his tumbler of whisky, balancing a cigarette between his fingers. "How's that?"

"Process of elimination, of course." She dipped her finger in her glass and flicked him in the face. "The anchor is likely to be something painted in the original scene."

Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand and glowered. "So you're saying it's in the ballroom somewhere?"

"I'm hoping so." Ginny sucked on her finger and hummed thoughtfully. "Do you remember much about the painting?"

"Nah, not really. It's kind of fuzzy." He took a healthy swig of his drink. "I sort of remember the piano and the dancers, but not much else."

Ginny sighed. "Yeah, same here."

She didn't remember much. Her memory was hazy at best. She wasn't sure if this was because it had been so long that she forgot or if it was part of the spell. To be honest, Ginny felt like her memory got a little muddled every day. It would explain why finding a way out of the painting was so difficult—you eventually forgot everything and lost interest.

"Still—" Draco shrugged "—it's a good place to start." He raised his drink to her in salutations. "Good work."

Ginny bobbed her head almost shyly, glancing up at Draco through her lashes. He was still looking at her with that hopeful expression that made her weak in the knees. For a brief second she had an amazingly strong urge to bolt, but then those eyes of his fixed on hers and she was caught. They were such striking grey eyes, under-tinted with an even lighter grey. They were like clouds drifting across a smoky sky.

She was undone.

"So what do we do?" Draco took a drag of his cigarette and pointed to the paper underneath Ginny's hand. "Write a list of everything we see in here?"

"Uh, yeah." She cleared her throat and looked away. "Pretty much."

Draco set down his drink and scooted in closer, his arm brushing hers. Ginny bit her lip and tried her best not to squirm. She felt like a silly teenager with a crush. It was frustrating.

Shrugging it off, she picked up her pen and was about to ask Draco what he wanted to add to the list when the room seemed to dim and the stage lights went up. They both turned and glanced up at the stage to see a man standing there in front of a microphone. He hadn't even said a word and the entire room erupted in applause. It was deafening.

"Who the hell is that?" Draco yelled to Ginny over the din. "They're acting like he's the bloody Prime Minister."

It was almost surreal, Ginny had to admit, and entirely new. Nothing like this had happened before, except when she arrived from the painting?

"Looks like someone else touched the painting," she said.

The applause was still going strong. A few even began to crowd around the stage. Ginny leaned as far out as she could, but she still couldn't see who it was. She and Draco were seated too far back and their view of the stage was partially obscured by the bar. Although Ginny was almost certain that she saw the captain up on the stage with the stranger. His bushy white eyebrows and moustache were dead giveaways.

Frustrated, Ginny finally scooted past Draco and stood up. It'd be easier to see who it was if she got a bit closer. Maybe it was Bill or Ron or even Harry. Someone must have come through to find her.

She tried to make her way through the packed crowd, but as small as Ginny was, she could find no leeway. Soon enough, Draco grabbed her hand and led in front, clearing a path for her.

When they got close enough, Ginny could immediately tell that the stranger on stage wasn't Bill or any of her brothers. The man was somewhat short but sturdy, with a build like Charlie's. He had dark, wavy hair streaked with silver along the temples, a dimpled chin and a thin white scar that cut diagonally across his right eyebrow.

Ginny's blood ran cold.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The captain grandly gestured to the other man on stage. "Lord Maxwell Higgins!"

The crowd erupted in an encore of thunderous applause and Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. Ginny answered his eyebrow language with a resounding,

"That son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill him!"

The redhead almost climbed over top of Draco to get to the aforementioned son of a bitch when the blond grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from the crowd. He pulled her back to their table and sat her down.

"Settle down," he ordered.

"Don't tell me to settle down!" She wrested her wrist from his grasp and pointed angrily at the stage. "That's the bastard who got us trapped in here in the first place!"

"I know that!" He sat down beside her and leaned in close. "But try not to be a Weasley for one second and keep a level head."

Ginny's eyes snapped up to meet his, wild with indignation. "Oh, this head of mine is level, mister."

"Hardly." He rolled his eyes. "Now c'mon, we need to play this smart."

"No, what I need is to go over there and start breaking bones until he tells us how to get out of here!"

"You know for a smart person, you can be rather stupid," Draco drawled. "He's not going to tell us how to get out of here, no matter what we do to him. What we need to do is watch him, cause if anyone knows how to get out of here, it's him."

Ginny took a deep breath. "So we watch him and see how he gets out of the painting?"

"Exactly," Draco said, touching his shoulder to hers. "We lie low and observe him from afar."

"All right, fine." Ginny's eyes travelled back up to the stage, narrowing as she watched people line up to shake Higgins's hand. "We do it your way... for now."

Maxwell Higgins was not impressed.

Everything had gone to pot the moment Davis brought that damn painting into the room. He thought he had the upper hand with Weasley. He thought he was being terribly clever. But then that idiot ginger ripped off the covering and Higgins found himself being sucked inside the bloody painting.

Now he was stuck on a ship and surrounded by a bunch of inbred dullards who wanted to shake his hand. Not that he didn't mind the ego-boost. However, he really didn't have time for any of this. He had to find the anchor and get the hell out of there.

He had spotted Ginny earlier; watched as she was dragged away from the crowd by a blond man who he could only assume was Draco Malfoy. They were keeping their distance and that was fine by him. Unfortunately, Higgins knew Ginny. Right now she was plotting and very likely scheming, trying to figure out a way to get a hold of him. She wanted out of the painting just like he did, but he wanted to keep her here. He wanted to keep them both here; but how?

"She quite the looker, ain't she?"

Higgins glanced over at the sailor standing beside him. "Who?"

"Miss Weasley over there." The sailor pointed back over at the table with a grin. "Pretty as a rose, she is."

"I suppose," Higgins drawled blithely, "if you're not especially discerning in your tastes."

The sailor ignored the slight, narrowing his eyes on the blond sitting next to the redhead. "It's a damn shame that she spends all her time with that lily-livered Malfoy. I dunno wot she sees in 'im. He's a coward and a spy, from wot I've heard."

"A spy?" Higgins's gaze went back to the duo and an ugly smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "Excuse me a moment."

He left the sailor and parted his way through the dwindling crowd. Most had gone back to their drinks and dancing. He found the captain conversing with a few guests, and so Higgins lightly tapped the elderly man on the shoulder.

"Captain, if I could have a moment of your time."

"Of course." The whiskers of his white moustache tickled his upper lip as he smiled genially. "What is it, Lord Higgins?"

"That man over there sitting with the redhead." He pointed to Draco. "Do you know him?"

The captain's bushy eyebrows creased in a frown. "I believe he's the pianist, sir. Uh, Draco Malfoy."

"So he's using his mother's maiden name," Higgins murmured loudly, stroking his chin for effect.

"Sir?"

"That man's real name is Draco Schröder," Higgins said gravely. "He's a German spy. Him and his wench, over there."

"Miss Weasley?" The captain shook his head. "No, not her."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

Higgins sighed pitifully with a shake of his head. He was putting on a good show, if he did say so himself.

"They're why I'm here, you see. I followed them onto the ship and was going to wait until we docked to arrest them, but I'm worried that they've recognised me with all this hullabaloo and will now try to escape." He exhaled a sigh. "Captain, I'd like them arrested and thrown into the brig."

"I—yes, of course, Lord Higgins."

The captain then ordered several of his men to approach the table. A moment later there was a loud uproar when one of the sailors grabbed Ginny by the arm and pulled her away.

The entire room went silent.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, using all of her strength to break free. "Let go!"

"Unhand her!" Draco bellowed, struggling forward as two sailors pinned his arms behind his back. "What's the meaning of this?"

"You're being detained," one of the sailors said.

"On whose authority?"

"Lord Maxwell Higgins's."

Ginny's head snapped back and forth as she searched the crowd, her red hair swishing in her face. Then her eyes met her former partner's and narrowed dangerously.

"You!" she seethed. "You bastard!"

Higgins kept his expression impassive, but a dark satisfaction rang through him as he watched the crew drag Draco and Ginny away.

"I will end you!" she screamed. "Do you hear me, Higgins? End you!"

He turned away, allowing himself a smile as Ginny's threats faded down the hall. With the two stooges finally subdued and detained, he'd have the freedom to search for the anchor. If he could only remember what it was...

Ginny angrily paced the length of her cell.

"That rat-face bastard!" She clenched her hands into fists, imagining she was crushing Higgins's windpipe. "If only I had my wand! Oh, how I'd show him! I'd show him good!"

"Weasley, focus!"

Draco voice rang out from across the room, snapping Ginny out of her rant, and she spun around to face him. The blond was pressed up against the cell, gripping tightly onto the bars. He was sporting a black eye, a cut on his cheek and a bloodied lip courtesy of a few zealous sailors.

"I need you to go to left corner of your cell."

She blinked at him curiously for a second before obeying.

"Your other left," he said dryly, when she went the wrong way. "Do you see a metal pin there on the ground?"

Ginny scanned the floor, eventually spotting something small and cylindrical. She bent down, her fingers brushing over a hard metallic surface. She smiled triumphantly and picked it up between her fingers.

"Yeah, I've got it!"

She proudly held it up for display and he nodded.

"Great. Now I'm going to need you to pick the lock."

She stared at him blankly and lowered her hand before realising what side of the room she was on. She was in the cell that they normally put Draco in—the one he always found a way to unlock.

"But I don't know how to do that without my wand!"

He rolled his eyes. "What kind of Curse-Breaker are you?"

"One that doesn't pick locks like some petty Muggle thief!"

He waved her off. "Whatever, it's fine. I'll walk you through it."

Ginny had discovered a lot of surprising things about Draco in the last twelve days she'd spent together with him. She'd learnt that he smoked too much, he drank too much and he actually had a sense of humour—albeit it was somewhat dry and dark. He was resilient and resourceful and braver than he'd admit. The one thing he wasn't, though, was a patient instructor.

He raised his voice more than once, called her an idiot one too many times and made her want to gnaw through the bars with her teeth after only an hour's instruction. Finally, after some exhaustive trial and error, the lock made that clicking sound that was absolute music to her ears. She gasped as the cell door swung open, and did a little dance as she stepped out.

"I did it!"

She spun around in circles, pumping her fists, and Draco couldn't help but smile.

"Congratulations. I'll bake you a cake later," he said. "It's time for phase two."

Ginny stopped dancing and took a deep breath, nodding seriously. She closed the door and walked over to Draco's cell, handing him the metal pin.

"Here."

He gave it a cursory look before slipping it into his pocket. "There's no time for that. We have to get the guard to come inside here so that he'll unlock the outside door."

"How do you normally do that?"

"See that two-by-four beside the door?"

He pointed to the piece of wood and Ginny glanced at him incredulously.

"You want me to hit him?"

"You'll need him unconscious to escape anyway."

Ginny walked over to the door and picked up the piece of wood. It was heavy, but light enough for her to wield it like a weapon. It was a weapon.

When an anxious look stole over her face, Draco's voice softened, "It won't take much force if you hit him behind the head." He touched the back of his own head to show her. "Right here, near the base of the skull."

She paused before nodding curtly. "Okay."

"When you're ready, scream for help and then hide behind the door," he instructed. "When the guard comes inside, he'll head to your cell first. When you see the back of his head, swing heavily but not wildly. Think of it like a Beater swinging at a Bludger."

Ginny nodded and took another deep breath before getting behind the door. She held the piece of wood up high, like a bat. When she shrieked for the guard, it only took him a few seconds to rush inside. Like Draco predicted, he went straight for Ginny's empty cell first, leaving his back exposed.

She stepped out and squared off, cocking the bat back like the twins had taught her. She imagined the guard's head was a Bludger and she swung. There was a loud crack and the man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Ginny kept a hold on the makeshift bat, just in case he got back up. When he didn't, she cautiously approached his prone form and dropped to her knees, letting the two-by-four fall out of her hands with a clatter. When she began searching through his pockets, Draco hissed at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the key to your cell."

"Forget about me and go!"

Like lightning on a sunny day, Ginny couldn't understand his request. "What?"

"I said, go!"

"No." She jumped to her feet. "No, I'm not going to leave here without you. All the way, remember?"

Draco shook his head. "Even if I went with you, I'd only be in your way. Everyone here wants me dead, but not you. They like you. You're the only one who can go up against Higgins. You can't let him win; you have to get the anchor."

"But I—what if something happens?" She wrapped her fingers around the bars of his cell. "What if I can't make it back in time? What if... What if I can't take you with me?"

"Then find another way and come back for me." He overlapped her fingers with his. The spaces in the bar were just wide enough that he could fit his head through, and he rested his forehead against hers. "I have faith in you, Ginny."

Ginny bit her lip and shook her head to stop herself from crying. "You're such an idiot."

"No I'm not." Draco smiled, sliding a hand out between the bars to cup the back of her neck. "But just in case I don't make it to wherever you're going..."

Then he captured her lips in a kiss.

Ginny was too stunned to react at first; plus the position was more than a little awkward. But then she felt his lips move against hers. They were so soft and warm and pliable, nudging hers to part. She eventually closed her eyes obeyed.

It was a gentle kiss, sweet and longing. Or maybe she was just longing for it, for him. His fingers traced along her jaw and she sighed into his mouth. He was a musician, all deft and gentle fingers on her strings. There was music in him and now in her; he transcribed it against her skin, her lips, as if she was something fleeting and fleeing from his embrace.

She wasn't sure who drew away first, but her eyes were still closed when she felt his lips leave hers; her mouth was still parted and swollen. When she finally opened her eyes, he was staring at her intently, as if he was trying to memorise her face.

"Now get out of here," he said, motioning to the door. "Go."

Ginny slowly stepped away.

"I'll come back for you."

He nodded. "I know you will."

After that Ginny didn't think; she just ran. She couldn't think about what she was doing, that she was leaving Draco behind.

When she finally made it to the ballroom, she was shocked to find it deserted. Except for Higgins, who was stacking chairs by the stage.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

Higgins exhaled an irritated sigh at the sight of her and stood up straight. "I asked them to leave. Apparently I should have asked them all to guard your cell." He scowled. "You're always squeezing your way out of messes, aren't you? Like a little weasel."

He took a step towards her and she shifted away between the tables. Without her wand, she couldn't take him head on. He was bigger and stronger than she was. She couldn't just rush him. She had to be smart about this.

"Where's your better half, Ginevra?" Higgins looked past her for Draco and saw that they were alone. The corners of his lip curled into a smirk. "Left him behind, did you?"

"You never mind about him."

"Ooh, touchy." He feigned offence. "You know, you don't have a wand, Ginevra. You can't beat me."

"I don't need a wand to beat you," she said. "I just need to get to the anchor before you do."

A flicker of panic crossed Higgins's features then and Ginny's eyes narrowed with dangerous intent. Like a lioness crouching low in the tall grass, she surveyed her prey, waiting for him to make a mistake. Without fail, he betrayed himself. His dark green eyes swept upwards and she followed them to the albatross hanging above the stage.

The anchor.

Higgins's gaze swung back to Ginny and he knew; he knew that she knew. He had already stacked a pile of chairs beneath the damn thing. He was so close. She would never make it to it in time.

When he bolted for the chairs, Ginny lifted off the balls of feet and broke into a sprint. Neither one got far before the ship suddenly heaved, tilting at a dangerously steep level. Everything started sliding to the right and Ginny managed to catch the edge of a bolted-down table while Higgins went tumbling into the band.

Well, this was new.

The ship began to slowly shift upright again with a groan and everything started sliding back to the other side of the room. The golden albatross went with it, falling down with a loud clang.

Higgins and Ginny were still rooted to their spots, still brutally held down by gravity. But the ship was already evening out and soon they'd be able to stand up again. When it happened, both scrambled to their feet.

Higgins was closer, but Ginny was faster.

Hand outstretched, Higgins's mouth widened into a triumphant grin as he roared, "With my crossbow I shot the—"

"Albatross!" Ginny cried as she dove.

Both grabbed a wing as the lower deck exploded with wood and fire. Gravity disappeared. The blast lifted them both in the air, but Ginny could feel the anchor tugging her forward by the navel, sucking her inside.

It was a Portkey.

A second later, Higgins and Ginny left the Princess Anne.

Ginny woke up face-down on a beach.

The wind was caressing her skin, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean. She could hear the roar of the waves behind her, crashing against the rocks. Seagulls cawed nearby, screeching as they fought for leftovers on the sandy beach.

She rolled over onto her back with a groan and opened her eyes, staring up and a bright blue sky. The sun was warm as it bathed her face with a golden glow. She breathed deeply and sighed.

Despite the warmth, Ginny felt heavy and damp. She held up her arm and saw that she was wearing her robes, the sleeves soaked through with salt water. Testing her body, she sat up, wincing with pain. She felt stiff and bruised, probably due to the tumble she had on the ship before catching a ride home with the albatross.

The albatross. She was out of the painting!

Ginny's body came alive then and she jumped to her feet, ignoring the shooting pain in her limbs. She fumbled for her wand and her fingers found purchase on the thin stretch of wood. She smiled before brandishing it and spun around, her eyes scanning the beach and moss-laden cliffs for signs of Higgins. She found no one.

She was alone.

Relaxing her guard, Ginny inhaled another deep breath of salty air and gazed out at the scene before her. The blue-green waters licked at the dark shore with frothy cataracts of foam, receding back into the ocean only to be churned and devoured and released back onto the shore again.

It was breath-taking.

However, when Ginny's gaze went beyond the shoreline, following the endless stretch of ocean, her heart suddenly felt heavy. She was finally out of the painting, but Draco wasn't. She had left him back on the Princess Anne.

Swallowing back her guilt, Ginny decided the first thing she needed to do was discover where she was and then find a way home. She glanced to her right where the beach ended with cliffs. On her left was a hilly area with what looked to be a house in the far distance.

She turned left and began walking along the beach towards the house. As she drew closer, she noticed another person walking towards her. It was an old woman in yellow dress. She was leisurely strolling towards the redhead; wisps of her long white hair had come undone from her bun and were caught high in the breeze.

"Another lost soul," she said to Ginny as the two met.

"Pardon me?"

"I saw you wash up on the shore earlier," the woman said. "You appeared out of nowhere. No boat in sight. What brought you here? You certainly weren't taking a swim in that."

She pointed to Ginny's soggy robes and the redhead floundered.

"Oh, well, I—"

"Nice twig you've got there." She pointed to Ginny's wand before taking out her own. "I have one, too."

"Wait! You're a witch?" Ginny asked, both relieved and confused.

The old woman nodded. "And you sound English. Tell me, is this a popular tourist spot for British wizards nowadays?"

Ginny frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You're the second English wizard, or witch in your case, that I've found washed up on my beach in the last month."

Ginny was suddenly on guard again. Had this woman seen Higgins?

"You saw another wizard? Where? Was it just a little while ago?"

The old woman looked at Ginny sceptically before shaking her head. "No, it was more than five weeks ago. The man was a bit loony, too. Your Ministry came here and picked him up."

"Oh." Ginny wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. "Do you know how I can get a hold of them—the Ministry, that is?"

"I have a fireplace," the woman said. "It isn't connected to the Floo Network across seas, but you can use it to make a fire-call and ask them for a Portkey. It's what I had to do the last time. It'll take a day for it to get here, but you can stay with me in the meantime."

Ginny smiled, relief flooding her body. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome."

The old woman, whose name was Cynthia Pike, took Ginny to her beach house where she directed the young witch to the fireplace. Ginny was able to get a hold of Bill at Shell Cottage. He was more than happy to see her.

"Where are Draco and Higgins?"

"Draco is still in the painting," Ginny said, swallowing back the painful lump in her throat. "As for Higgins, I have no idea where he is. He left with me, but he wasn't there when I woke up."

"I see... Well, we can talk more about this when you get back home."

"Speaking of which—can you send me a Portkey?"

Bill grinned. "Already on it. Tracey sent one to a... Mrs Pike?"

"But how did you know I'd be here with her?" Ginny asked.

"Well, Mrs Pike was the one who found Rogen, so Tracey and I took a gamble that she'd find you, too."

"Good gamble," Ginny said.

"Is there anything else?" Bill asked, and she paused.

"Yes... Do you still have the painting? Is it safe?"

"It's being kept at the Ministry, why?"

"I need you to bring it to my room at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow," she said. "I'm going back for Draco."

The Portkey had arrived that evening, and Ginny thanked Mrs Pike again for her hospitality before activating the device. She had made it to the Leaky Cauldron shortly before 10 PM. There she met with Bill, who had the painting with him.

The two exchanged hugs, glad to see one another, before Ginny hurried them up to her room.

"I hope you didn't tell Mum that I'd be back in London by tonight," she said, sticking her wand in her robes. "She's going to kill me if she found out I didn't come see her straight-away."

"Your secret's safe with me, little sister."

Ginny smiled and took off her robes. They were still dirty from lying on the beach. She was about to throw them on her bed when Bill held out his hand and took them for her, hanging them on the coat rack near the door. He then picked up the painting and set it on her desk.

"So did you want to do this now?"

Ginny rubbed her hands together and nodded. "Yes. I'd like to get him out of there as soon as possible." She smiled. "And now I know how."

Bill returned her smile and pulled out his wand.

Ginny stood back and took a deep breath, waiting. Her mind was spinning, thinking about how Draco was alone right now. Was he disappointed when she didn't come back for him right away? Did he hate her now?

She was so distracted with her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the fire. Her eyes widened at the sight of the painting going up in flames and she screamed. Panicking, she reached for the nearest thing, her blanket, and began to douse the flames. But it was too late.

"NOOO!"

Ginny pulled away the blackened blanket. The painting was a charred smear on her desk, still hot and smoking. She glanced up at Bill with tears in her eyes.

"Why? What have you done?"

Her brother only smirked at her, and she grew scared.

"Bill?"

"You failed, Ginevra."

Panic seized her like a vice, gripping her until she gasped, "Higgins!"

She dashed for her robes, to get her wand, but he had cast a Freezing Charm on her. She froze in place.

"Looking for this?" Higgins pulled her wand from out of his pocket and twirled it around. "A little sleight of hand magic I learnt from a Muggle."

"I believe they call it pick-pocketing," she said behind clenched teeth.

Higgins smiled then but it was no longer with Bill's face. The effects of the Polyjuice Potion were wearing off, changing his hair from red to black and silver.

"You know, there was a Portkey on that beach. You didn't have to trouble that old woman," he said, working out his jaw as it moulded back into its original shape. "I waited to see if you'd spot it, but you didn't. Then I overheard your discussion with your brother and thought I'd get the painting for you."

"But how?"

"Went into the Ministry disguised as your brother, of course." He ran a hand through his dark locks. "I'd nicked a hair off him during his interrogation. Sheds like a dog, that one. Must be the werewolf trait. As for the Polyjuice, I always have a batch of it on hand." He patted his breast pocket with a wink. "Just in case."

Higgins then glanced down at the burnt painting and shook his head with a dramatic sigh.

"Too bad about your boyfriend, though." He set Ginny's wand down on the table. "I'm afraid there's no saving him now. It's a pity, really."

Ginny began to tremble. A terrible sadness swam through her veins like glass, as if being pumped by a hummingbird's wings, hell-bent on destroying what was left of her heart.

"Why?" Her voice broke. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can, Ginevra." He smiled smugly. "Because I'm better than you."

Higgins Disapparated without warning, and Ginny was released from the charm. She fell to her knees in utter devastation. With the painting destroyed, the portal was inaccessible. Best-case scenario: Draco was dead. Worst-case scenario: he was doomed to die every day for eternity.

For the first time since Fred died, Ginny broke down and cried.