AN: Hello everyone and welcome to this latest chapter.


Chapter 7

The Burrow,

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, United Kingdom

"We can't just give him what we're working on," Fred Weasley began rehashing the discussion he and his twin brother had been having ever since Draco Malfoy had left them in the Leaky Cauldron after making his offer.

"Which means we can't tell mum or dad about it," George noted.

"Too true; knowing we have a way to maybe help Ginny and not using it would kill them – every bit as much as it's hurting us."

"If they thought about it rationally they'd agree."

"We'd be beholden to Malfoy forever."

"Blackmailed endlessly."

"Not to mention we'd be selling state secrets."

"With what we're working on that's possibly even treason - depending on what he wants it for."

"At the very least least Azkaban."

"We'd get Ginny's old cell," they concluded in unison; usually this resulted in broad smiles from the twins, not on this occasion though.

"Is there anything else we can do to help her out? If Malfoy has that sort of influence then surely somebody else does as well."

"Somebody with less of an agenda."

"What are you two plotting?" their mother, Molly, asked suspiciously. After a fraught few days the dam was always going to burst – and the twins were always going to be the recipients. "It's bad enough Ginny's in that place and Ron's in trouble without you two…" she broke off, put her hand over her face and broke into sobs again. Molly's rant, followed by tears, was always going to have her husband, Arthur, running to see what the problem was.

"Boys, what's going on?"

"We were just talking," Fred protested.

"Yes, something came up that has us troubled."

"Well whatever you do, please don't get into any bother over it," their father was almost begging. "Two Weasley children with legal problems is more than enough for one year."

"Ok dad," George answered with a resigned sigh; Arthur steered Molly back to the kitchen for a calming cup of tea.

"Well there we go," Fred observed. "Dad has just ordered us not to do anything to get into trouble. Looks like we have to decline Malfoy's generous offer."

"You're sounding just like our older brother," his twin complained.

"Imagine telling Percy," Fred sniggered.

"He tried to get you to do what?" George imitated the pompous Weasley's tone. "You must tell your Head of Department at once…"

The twins looked at one another as the penny dropped, along with their jaws.

"And who's smarter than Hermione?" Fred's voice now held some excitement and just a kernel of hope.

"Luna shares an office with her; she's no dumb blonde herself."

"As a Head of Department she might know someone who can help Ginny as well." It was a long-shot but the Weasley twins would clutch at any straw they could right now.

"I think, dear brother, we might just find a way out of this…"

Malfoy Manor,

Swindon

Draco stepped nervously out of the floo; his father had summoned him and that led the younger Malfoy to suspect he would be in a bad mood. Logically this meant he had learnt of Draco's ejection from the Ministry earlier.

"Master demands to see Young Master immediately," Dobby informed him as Draco put his cloak on the table; the elf picked it up to hang up. "Master is in his study." Dobby disappeared with a crack.

The blond swallowed nervously and made his way to where Lucius was waiting.

The door to the study was ajar; Draco knocked a couple of times before entering timidly. Lucius looked up and scowled. He pointed with his quill to one of the chairs in the room; his son sank into it and began studying his shoes while Lucius returned to whatever he was writing.

Seconds turned into a minute; the ticking of the clock sounded to Draco like a countdown to his doom. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he tried to subtly wipe them off on his sleeve. Finally, Lucius set his quill down and began to glare at his son, whose head was still bowed.

"Do you have any idea," the senior Malfoy began; Draco reluctantly looked up, "what your stupidity today has done? How much gold it cost me to stop the Minister from taking things further? What on earth were you thinking, publically insulting the Minister's wife like that?"

Draco sat quietly, hoping it was a rhetorical question. It wasn't.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself?"

"I went to the Granger bitch's department to track down the Weasel twins," he began, growing in confidence as he insulted those he thought to be the lowest of the low. "I asked Lovegood – at least she's a Pureblood so, naturally, she was the one I spoke to…" He paused, hoping his father would agree with him. He was disappointed when Lucius remained silent. "She told me to speak to the mudblood. I told her that sort of thing was beneath me and she asked me if I thought that way about all of them, even the Minister's wife. Of course I do," he snorted. "I hadn't realised Potter was stood behind me."

"That's all you said?" Lucius prompted; Draco remained silent so he continued, "You didn't threaten to rape her by any chance?"

"I never said that," the Malfoy scion defended himself.

"Potter clearly thought you meant it." Draco shrugged and Lucius closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I've told you before. There's nothing wrong with holding such eminently sensible views but you have to learn subtlety, Draco. You can't just go around saying such things in public – as you've found out they get you into trouble, a lot of trouble, especially when you don't know exactly who is listening." He then dropped the other part of the bombshell. "Potter has banned you from entering the Ministry for six months." Draco gasped. "Yes, you see that your usefulness has diminished drastically."

"I did manage to speak to the Weasels," Draco uttered desperately, hoping to improve his father's opinion of him.

"And..?"

"I made the offer: the gold for the Weaslette in exchange for what they're working on. I left it with them, secure in the knowledge that the offer wouldn't last too long."

"Good. Find them again tomorrow. Let them know the deal expires tomorrow night."

"Yes father."

"Now get out of my sight."

Draco scrambled to his feet and fled for the sanctuary of the drawing room where he found his mother. Unfortunately she was just getting ready to leave.

"Your father has a meeting with his associates tonight so I'm going out for the evening."

Draco bowed his head again. He called for Dobby, retrieved his cloak and flooed back to his flat.


Once his wife and son had left, Lucius made his own way to the drawing room. The floo crackled moments later and his allies made their way into the room. Macnair, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Babbock, Regulus Black and Crouch (Jr) were all assembled, along with one other, who seemed rather reluctant to be there and who spent most of his time trying to blend into the background.

"We all know why we're here," Malfoy began. "The government is moving ever further away from a sensible agenda and we need to get it back on track. To do that we need to remove the Minister and replace him with someone…" his eyes lingered on the younger Black brother, "more suitable: a believer in the purity of blood and in our right to run our world the way it should be run." The gathering nodded their agreement. "Wormtail!" the senior Malfoy called to the figure lurking in the shadows. "It's time for you to earn some of that retainer you get for being our man on the inside," he continued as the portly wizard shuffled his way into view. "I want to know what our delightful Minister is up to."

"You know, Lucius, that he sent his son to track down the Veela?" Pettigrew stuttered nervously, not liking being the centre of attention.

"A fool's errand," Macnair scoffed.

"He has found them," Pettigrew confirmed; the gathering looked at him in shock.

"Are you certain?" Malfoy asked.

"The Minister himself said so. His wife is also walking around with a new spring in her step; they spoke to the brat at the weekend."

"Intriguing. I suppose he is pursuing his insane dream of a treaty with these creatures?"

"That is correct. Harry has made the Ministry's case to their Queen and is awaiting her answer. But that's not all," Pettigrew continued as his benefactors spluttered in ire, "he has sent Lupin to France to seek the friendship of their werewolves."

"Potter's Magical Menagerie," Babbock quipped.

"When the Wizengamot hears this," Malfoy smiled murderously, "working behind a till in Diagon Alley will be the only job our esteemed Minister is capable of getting. I might just let my son see if Potter's mudblood is worthy of him after all, see if she can finally make a man of him."

Department of Magical Research,

Ministry of Magic,

London

Tuesday, 14th October 2003

Two nervous twins appeared in their boss's office shortly after Hermione arrived for work (Luna was already at her desk; Hermione sometimes wondered if she ever went home or just slept there – assuming the strange blonde did sleep; Hermione often thought she daydreamed through life and maybe that counted as sleep for her).

"Boss, could we speak to you please?" Fred asked. "It's a rather sensitive matter."

"I need to get a drink of water," Luna declared, getting to her feet.

"You don't have to," George said hurriedly; "we'd value your insight as well."

"That's the kindest thing anyone's said to me this month." The blonde smiled and sat down again, though from the look on her face one could only guess whether or not she was actually listening. The rooms other occupants shared an awkward look at her declaration.

"So what's the matter?" Hermione asked brusquely, seeing no need for preamble.

"Well, you know what's been going on with our family recently?" Fred prompted, knowing that mentioning Ron by name was rather a bad idea around Hermione.

"Yes, I heard what happened to your sister; everyone seems to think she was rather poorly treated."

"Right." George nodded gratefully. "Well, Draco Malfoy approached us in the Leaky Cauldron last night after work."

"Oh, he said he was looking for you yesterday," Luna piped up, "right before he insulted Minister Potter's wife and got thrown out of the Ministry."

The twins exchanged shocked looks at this revelation; only a questioning glance at their boss, which was answered by a small nod, convinced them the blonde hadn't either dreamed or imagined what she was saying.

"He insulted me too," Miss Granger recalled with a hint of anger in her voice. "So what did the ferret have to say?"

It was a measure of the seriousness of the situation that neither twin smiled at the ferret jibe. "He told us he could pull some strings and get our sister out of Azkaban." The two girls stared wide-eyed at the twins.

"Of course," Fred added darkly, "there would be a price to pay."

"How much?" Hermione asked. "He must know your family's er… circumstances." She gave them an apologetic look for bringing up the Weasleys' lack of wealth.

"He didn't want money – he wanted our technology. Samples of what we were working on and, we can only assume, us to make more items for him and his cronies."

"You didn't agree?" Hermione's tone was both horrified and accusatory.

"No, of course not," Fred shot that down instantly. "He left us to think about it."

"The only thing we were thinking about," his twin continued, "was how to help Ginny without getting into Malfoy's clutches."

"He'd start blackmailing us in an instant."

"Of course," Luna agreed, "letting it slip that you'd given Ministry secrets to people would see you in a lot of trouble."

"We know," Fred nodded, "but at the same time we wanted to help Ginny."

"Getting Malfoy into trouble over this would be nice too," Hermione was still smarting over his words from the previous day. "How do we do it though?"

"That's easy," Luna commented. "We tell the Minister."

"Luna," Hermione chuckled, "even as Head of this Department I don't have direct access to the Minister. He has to come to me and he doesn't pay me all that many visits."

"You know, Hermione, for such a genius I've always thought you incredibly one-dimensional in your thinking."

"You have a plan?" George asked hopefully.

"Of course," the blonde smiled.

Le Chateau Delacour,

Location Unknown

While there were precious few similarities between him and Malfoy, nervous was also an adjective that could be applied to Harry at the moment. The court's private deliberations seemed to be continuing endlessly and, while he was enjoying his time in the comfort of the castle, he really wanted an answer (provided, of course, it was a positive answer) for a number of reasons – chief among them, of course, was the concern over the rising power of the Empire in the east (his father had passed on word during their last floo chat about the annexation of Transylvania; they had yet to learn of the fall of Poland as well) but also from a career standpoint; successful negotiations would be a feather in his cap, help dispel any claims of nepotism getting him his assignment and set his future career up rather nicely (maybe, he thought, he could one day be in position for his dad's current job – if he wanted it). The last reason, he would have to admit to himself, was somewhat more primal; he was surrounded by beautiful women and having to be on his best behaviour – once the deal was completed he could maybe start talking nicely to one or two of them about some nocturnal companionship. Those thoughts had to be ruthlessly squashed as he was approached by a courtier; his presence was required in yet another meeting to clarify a few points.

Imps Stadium,

Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom

Neville apparated to a point just outside the stadium but inside the area contained by muggle-repelling spells. He had told colleagues he might need a slightly extended lunch (he hadn't told Amelia Bones; he may be a Gryffindor but he wasn't that brave – he'd deal with her on his return if needs be). The young Longbottom was asking himself what he was doing here as he looked around before he admitted it to himself: he couldn't stop thinking about Jen.

It was an odd thing; she was certainly not the first girl he'd slept with so he wasn't sure why their night (and following morning) together had had such a profound effect on him. Yes she was pretty but so had been almost all the others. He tried to tell himself that this was one of the things he was going to try and figure out when he saw her.

"Seeing her" didn't take long; after speaking to the manager and getting approval to be there (useful, he decided, to be both an Auror and a Longbottom sometimes) he walked out to the pitch and looked up to see her speeding through the sky. At the distance she was from him he couldn't see her face but her rapid movement and change of direction showed that she had seen the snitch and was in pursuit. He briefly looked away to see the team's chasers working on their drills with a Quaffle, while the keeper was defending shots being taken by others (he assumed them to be the team's reserve chasers) with the added complication of one beater sending a bludger at him (the other was firing the second bludger at Jen while she tried to catch the snitch; the heavy balls looked to have been charmed to return to the beater after a few seconds, ready to be fired again).

Turning back to the seeker, Neville raised a clenched fist and stifled a cheer as he saw Jen rise back up into the air, her own fist clenched; "her" beater had tucked his bat under his arm and was applauding her – at least until the bludger returned and he had to dodge it before it began to circle him dangerously. The two of them made their way cautiously down to the ground, the ball still tracking them.

A shout distracted Neville from watching them; he turned back to see the second bludger flying away from the keeper while he moved in the opposite direction – unfortunately that direction was down and without his broom. A quick Arresto Momentum from Neville slowed him; the coach casting the same spell meant he had a soft landing. The two of them raced over as the rest of the team landed around him.

"It ricocheted off his arm into his nose," one of the back-up chasers informed their coach.

"Looks to have broken both," a second added.

"Lucky you cast those spells," Jen noted, before seeing that it was Neville stood there. "Oh hi!" she smiled broadly at him; his smile in response was a lot more nervous.

"How is he?" the coach asked as the medic looked over the stricken keeper.

"As Hetherington said, those spells prevented serious injury – or worse. The breaks I can fix easily but he's likely to be concussed. We'll know more when he wakes but if so he won't play this weekend."

"Oh great," the coach buried his head in his hands. "Perfect timing, what with Weasley getting himself arrested and us sacking him as a result. We need a new keeper then. Looks like I need to call around and see if we can get someone on loan. Normally we'd call the Arrows but I think they're having to play their reserve this week." He sighed.

Jen, meanwhile, had walked to the side of the pitch with Neville, now she knew the keeper wasn't in serious danger and there was nothing she could do for him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came to see you," he admitted. "I… I really wanted to see you again."

"Really?" Her heart soared a little; as much as she'd enjoyed their time together and was secretly hoping for a repeat she wasn't expecting anything, given the boy's past reputation.

"Yeah, I was wondering… if there's an evening that you don't have anything better to do… whether maybe we could…" She silenced him with a kiss; pulling back she saw his shy, worried features had been replaced by a broad smile.

"How about tonight?"

"I'll pick you up at 8?" he asked. "That should be late enough that even if Madame Bones foists something on me this afternoon I can be done by then… I hope."

"Eight is fine," she chuckled. "If it's going to be later just floo call me?"

"Sure," he smiled in relief. "Well, I should get back to work… and let you get back to it too."

"Oh Neville?" she called as he turned to go; he stopped and looked back at her. "How would you like to come to the match on Saturday as my guest?"

"That would be great," he enthused.

"I'll make sure the ticket's at the office on Saturday," she promised. They kissed again before he left, a massive spring in his step.

"Right Hetherington," the coach had appeared behind her; she turned to look at him, smiling as broadly as Neville was. "Looks like you're going to have to play the game of your life this weekend. The only way we're going to win is if the chasers can keep hold of the Quaffle and keep it away from our goal and if you catch the snitch early enough." He finished with a playful jibe for his captain. "You wouldn't want to lose when your boyfriend's watching now, would you?"

She chuckled as she watched the Auror go. "No," she agreed, "that would never do."

Le Chateau Delacour,

Location Unknown

"It has been a long day," the Queen declared. Harry agreed wholeheartedly; when he'd been summoned he thought he'd be there for an hour or so at most, instead it was now early evening and he'd been fielding questions all day from various quarters (he was sure he'd answered some of them before and suspected the hostile elements were trying to either catch him out or play for time in their efforts to disrupt things). "We should adjourn until morning and will give our decision then." Harry nodded wearily and several members of the council also looked exhausted. "Go to your chambers," she advised him with a sympathetic smile, "someone will attend you soon with dinner."

He thanked her and trudged through the castle back to his room, greeting the few women he passed with tired nods and a handful of words when he couldn't avoid doing so.

Once in his room he flopped on his bed and closed his eyes. He felt sleep tantalisingly close when he was disturbed by a knock before the door opened.

"Emissary? May I enter?"

"Of course," he wriggled up the bed until he sat resting his back against the headboard. He smiled as the young girl who had served him the previous day entered holding a tray.

"I have your meal," she nodded at the tray, crossing the room and setting it down on the desk. "Would you like me to draw you a bath while you eat?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," he replied gratefully. Harry swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room to his desk while the girl disappeared into the bathroom.

"Your bath is ready," she declared, just as he was finishing his dinner; he walked into the bathroom, disrobed and sank into the hot water with a contented sigh.

"Would you like a massage?" His eyes snapped open as he heard the girl's voice from behind him; he assumed she'd have left him after preparing his bath. He wasn't about to turn down her offer though.

"That would be wonderful," he accepted wearily.

"Lean forwards," she urged him; his eyes widened but he did so, moving to the end of the bath and leaning against it. Moments later he heard a splash behind him and had to assume that the girl was joining him in the bath, something seemingly confirmed when he felt her hands on his shoulders.

Harry sighed again as her hands worked their magic; he felt the aches, pains and fatigue of the day disappear under her deft ministrations, trying not to think of her clear state of undress when he felt her chest contact with his back on occasion.

"Is this better, emissary?" she asked when she appeared to be finishing up.

"Yes, it was magnificent thank you; you are very talented," he replied, not looking round.

"The Queen says the same thing," she giggled, seizing his shoulders once more and working the muscles again.

"Oh, you're her personal masseuse?" he asked in surprise, not expecting that the holder of such a position would be assigned to be a mere servant to anyone, even a visiting dignitary.

The girl giggled again. "Not exactly," she replied, but didn't elaborate. Harry was disappointed when she let go of his shoulders, bringing the relaxing and enjoyable massage to an end; he heard her get out of the bath and gave her a little longer to get dressed again before lying back down and chancing a glance at her. The girl was wrapped in a towel with her uniform in her hands.

"What should I call you?" he asked, curiously.

"My name is Gabrielle, Emissary; my friends, though, call me Gabbi," she replied shyly.

"Well thank you Gabrielle," he smiled. With a small bow she left the bathroom; Harry heard the door of his suite open and close before he let out a sigh of relief; he enjoyed the rest of his bath, certain in the knowledge that the negotiations would not occupy his thoughts or his dreams tonight.

Department of Magical Law Enforcement,

Ministry of Magic,

London, United Kingdom

Neville was smiling as he returned. Not only did he have a date for the night (and probably another for Saturday) but he was also back at his desk well within an hour so Amelia Bones wouldn't be able to be upset with him (not for this anyway). So he was in a very good mood when a deputation of his former schoolmates arrived at his desk.

"Hermione?" He was surprised to see his old classmate. "Fred? George?" He spotted the twins then turned his eye to the fourth member of the group. "Oh, hi Luna," he knew her quite well from her time as Harry's girlfriend. "What can I do for you all?"

"We have a little problem and were wondering if you could pass on a message for us," the blonde began. "You see, the twins here have been approached regarding swapping secrets for Ginny's release." Neville's gaze immediately snapped to the two of them; as an Auror his stance on this was non-negotiable.

"Obviously we're going to say no to his generous offer," George added hurriedly.

"But we were wondering if we could use this to somehow make Draco suffer for this."

"Malfoy?" Neville perked up. "I'd certainly like to get something on him that his daddy can't get him out of. Especially after what happened yesterday. Dad says the Minister was seething."

"So we need a plan," Hermione observed. "Some way to get enough on Malfoy that he's stuffed and, ideally, a way to help Ginny too."

Neville looked decidedly less enthusiastic at the second part of the plan; while he could concede that Ginny had been harshly treated by the system, she was a criminal and he'd done his job. He kept this to himself but a raised, blonde eyebrow showed that Luna had noted his reticence. She contented herself with an enigmatic smile in his direction for now.

"Can we talk about this tonight?" Fred asked, energised by the hope the fledgling strategizing was giving him.

"I'm busy tonight," Neville said, "but I'll certainly pass on what Malfoy's been up to to my dad. I assume that's at least part of why you wanted me on board?"

Luna nodded. "We'll see you tomorrow then." As they filed out she called, "Enjoy your date." Neville's incredulous, questioning gaze was met by another of the blonde's enigmatic smiles.

The Leaky Cauldron,

Charing Cross Road

The twins were, again, in the dingy pub for a drink after work. This time they were hoping that Malfoy would show up, and they weren't disappointed. The smug blond put on his finest swagger, masking his own nervousness at having to deliver something to appease his father. Spying the redheads he went straight to their table and sat down.

"So," he began without pausing for niceties, "do we have a deal? Or does your sister have to stay in Azkaban?"

Fred looked to his brother, indicating he should speak for them. He put his hands in his lap, ostensibly to hide his nervousness but really to put the borrowed dictaquill on the parchment he had balanced on his knees. It might not yield anything admissible but he knew Neville would make good use of anything that was said. "It would have to be a very good deal," George told Malfoy, "because anything we give you is government property. If somebody found out…" He gave a very real shudder at the thought.

"The fearless Weasley twins?" Draco scoffed. "Worried about something like that while their baby sister sits in a cell?" He shook his head. "I expected better from you."

Fred pretended to bite. "Say we did give you something. What exactly would we get for it."

Malfoy glanced around before leaning forwards; he lowered his voice. "The gold for your sister's fine plus an… inducement to the review body of the Wizengamot; they would then be minded to release her early."

"Anything else? For us personally?" George pressed.

"The knowledge that you had secured her release," he said smugly before settling back into his seat, arms folded over his chest. "So, do we have a deal? This offer expires tonight. If I don't get a yes tonight, poor Ginny is beyond even my help."

The twins looked at one another with identical, troubled expressions. Malfoy stood. "I'll give you a few moments to consider your answer," and he headed to the bar.

Fred caught the dictaquill, preventing it from minuting their private discussion. "Looks like we're ready to go, George."

His twin agreed. "We'll get the what, the when and the where – and then we can prepare the trap."

Malfoy returned, his cocky swagger now genuine, especially when he saw the Weasleys' faces; he didn't see Fred release the dictaquill again. "So do we have a deal?"

They shared one more, reluctant glance. "We do," they agreed in unison.

"Excellent," Draco smiled, "here's what we'll do."

Le Chateau Delacour,

Location Unknown

Wednesday, 15th October 2003

Harry woke early and, having dressed in his last fresh set of robes in anticipation of the Queen's decision, he followed the aroma of food and found himself in a large dining hall.

"Emissary," one of the women he recognised from the court gave him a small, respectful bow, which he returned. "Please," she gestured to the tables; like on his previous experience of dining in this hall they were laden with food and empty, clean plates, "you may sit anywhere you wish, other than at the royal table of course," she gestured to the empty but sumptuously decorated table at the far end of the hall.

"Thank you," he smiled at her and walked to a table where two women around his age sat talking. "May I sit here?" he asked; the girls blushed slightly but nodded awkwardly. He thanked them and took a seat.

A couple of tables away, one of the courtiers who was less happy with his presence narrowed her eyes at the spectacle; she nodded to the woman sitting next to her – it was time to put their plan into action.

Harry left the table in high spirits; he had enjoyed his breakfast and liked talking to the girls. They had chatted freely about life in the enclave and given him some interesting titbits of information about the Veela race without even realising they were doing so. He spotted two of the women he'd met during the negotiations and made to greet them when four more stepped from the shadows, neatly surrounding him.

"It is time for you to leave," the ringleader, who he recognised as Marie, his chief antagonist in the whole process, declared.

"You, and all wizards, are not welcome here," another agreed

"Isn't that your Queen's decision to make?" he asked defiantly.

"She will thank us in time," the woman replied confidently.

"First, though, we must remove all trace of knowledge of us from your mind," Marie advanced on him.

Harry looked around at the angry courtiers. "Now, ladies," he began nervously, showing his empty hands. "I'm here to promote better relations between your people and mine. I'm not a threat."

"All wizards are a threat to us," Marie replied. "They want to either kill us or enslave us. That is what wizards mean to us and slavery is all that a wizard thinks we are good for. And a society with witches too? They will always be threatened by us. No, you have to go, and you have to forget all about meeting us."

She pulled out her wand and pointed between his eyes. "Obliviate!" she cried.