Chapter 9: Pale Memories
The sun had already made steady progress past its zenith, but Harry remained seated on the smooth outcropping of rock, gazing out over the water. The spot he chose was peaceful and located below the footpath along the cliff so there was no chance of anyone within Shell Cottage noticing his presence.
The ocean breeze blew lazily across his face, and Harry allowed his mind to wander unrestrained as he picked up a small rock and absentmindedly tossed it into the churning waves below. Memories of the quiet times he had shared with Ginny on this very spot began to push their way to the forefront of his mind and, closing his eyes, he let them come. He had loved the way Ginny's hair always reflected the sunlight so each strand seemed to glow with a fire of its own; he remembered feeling content to simply hold her hand, as they both gazed out at the ocean; he remembered Ginny's touch along his arm… the pleasure of her soft lips caressing his and then parting to allow his tongue access to play with hers… her body pressing intimately against him, setting his own body on fire…
He mentally shook himself and opened his eyes without seeing the panorama before him. He only tortured himself by allowing his mind to travel down such paths, but the memories were all that was left. The future he had fought against all odds to make possible was lost, leaving little within him but a driving need to track down the man behind the golden mask and his followers.
Harry's frustration and fury rose like an angered dragon when his thoughts shifted to Golden Mask. He could not help feeling that he had to be overlooking some vital clue that would help him discover the man's identity.
Dingo had said that Hermione was in several of the photos that he took for Golden Mask and she was his second target. Anyone who read the numerous unauthorized biographies of Harry's life, or the books and articles published about the war, would know about his long friendship with Hermione, as well as the role both she and Ron played in helping him. Harry had refused to read any of it, but he heard enough to know that some publications either alluded to, or blatantly reported that, his and Hermione's relationship went far beyond friendship. Someone need not have studied Divination to conclude that Hermione's death would hit Harry nearly as hard as Ginny's. So, was it more likely that Golden Mask was a complete stranger or was he someone Harry actually knew? Like perhaps Ben?
Harry shook his head as though answering his own question. The fact that he and Ben didn't get along very well was true. But even so, Harry had a hard time believing him capable of taking part in a murder plot, no matter what Alicia and Ron thought. Harry had believed Ben at the time when he insisted that the death of the Death Eater they found in the raid several months ago was an accident. But was he wrong to believe him?
Not long after Harry met him, he overheard Ben making vicious remarks about Muggleborns. Harry's anger had gotten the better of him and he confronted Ben, admittedly perhaps too publicly, but he never heard Ben make similar comments again. A dislike of Muggleborns did not necessarily make him a Death Eater; nor could Harry imagine that that particular encounter could push Ben to the point of taking revenge by murdering the people Harry cared about the most.
Harry had reviewed Ben's file and background right after he was assigned to his team; he had also reviewed Kevin's as well as Seamus's and Alicia's for that matter. There was nothing in Ben's records linking him to Death Eaters, nor to anyone with Death Eater sympathies. In addition, every Auror had to submit to interrogation under Veritaserum as a final requirement to join the department. If there was any question regarding Ben's background or sympathies, surely it would have been uncovered then.
If experience had taught Harry anything, it was that circumstantial evidence can be extremely misleading; Severus Snape, case in point. Therefore, until presented with hard evidence, Harry was determined to maintain as open a mind as possible, lest he be lead in the wrong direction and away from discovering who the true culprit was.
"Hermione thought this is where you'd be," Ron said, interrupting Harry's solitude and sitting down beside him.
"So she sent you out to check on me?" He was not in the mood for company, not even Ron's, and he suddenly felt somewhat resentful towards both Ron and Hermione for not understanding his need to be alone.
"She's just concerned, 's all," Ron replied. Harry saw Ron glace at him quickly and then look away. "You know how she can get. She wanted me to make sure you're alright."
Harry looked back at the ocean. "So now you can go back and tell her that I'm fine."
Ron refused to take the hint, so they sat in silence for a while until Harry finally said, "Honestly, Ron, you don't have to stay and watch after me. I'm not planning to jump off the cliff or to do something else just as stupid."
"I know…" Ron answered, distractedly but he still made no move to get up and leave.
Awkward silence dragged on for several long moments until Ron finally said in a rush, "I want to join the Auror Department."
"You do?" Harry replied, surprised by Ron's shift in topic.
"Um, yeah, what do you think?"
"I told you when I first joined up that I thought you'd make a good Auror," Harry replied. "So you don't want to work with George at the shop anymore?"
"To be honest, I don't think running a business is really for me," Ron answered. "All the worrying about inventory and keeping up with what's selling and what's not and everything. It's downright boring, I tell you. What I'd rather do is work on the investigation with you. On your team, I mean."
"You don't think you're a bit close the situation?" Harry asked.
"And you're not?" Ron demanded, turning on Harry heatedly. "You can't tell me that you didn't twist a few arms to get assigned to the case! Ginny was my sister! And if you didn't notice, it was my wife they just tried to kill! I want that bastard caught! And I want more to be done than just sitting around, waiting for them to try something again!"
"Is that what you think we're doing?" Harry demanded indignantly. "Sitting around and waiting for them to try to kill someone else?"
"That's not what—" Ron started defensively.
"It certainly sounded like it!" Harry shouted, glaring at him.
"Come on, Harry, you know that's not what I meant!" Ron shot back at him. "I felt so useless waiting in that hospital room for Hermione to wake up! I know you're doing everything you can to track them down. To be honest, I've wanted to ask you about this for a while. I want to do whatever I can to help you get them, that's all I meant."
He did know what Ron really meant and Harry's anger drained out of him when he saw the look of hope and determination on his friend's face.
"I know," he said, conciliatorily; he knew he should not be taking his anger and frustration out on Ron. "Sorry for yelling. I think it will be brilliant to have you join the department and my team."
"You do?" Ron looked relieved.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Harry answered.
"Alright then!" Ron exclaimed suddenly looking happier. "When can I start?"
"As soon as you want, I guess." Harry couldn't help smiling at Ron's enthusiasm and he continued, "I'll talk to Kingsley and Candlehard. You'll still have to officially apply and go through all the background checks, but that would really just be a formality for you. You'll have to complete the eight months of basic training courses, though."
Ron's face fell and he said, "But that means it's going to take forever before I can start working on the case with you."
"Not necessarily," Harry replied. "Field work is a big part of the last three months of training, but maybe I can ask to have you assigned early as a trainee on my team. You can attend classes and still work with us on the case. It will be a lot of work though, doing both."
"I don't care!" Ron declared. "At least I'll be doing something to help get to the bottom of it all. Do you think they'll all go for it? Letting me work on the case right away, I mean."
"I don't think it should take too much convincing," Harry replied. "The only favor I've ever asked of the Ministry was to head up the investigation into the attack on Shell Cottage. The-Boy-Who-Lived should be allowed one more, right? And you helped put an end to the war just as much as I did, so why wouldn't they agree to grant you a favor as well?"
"And your team?" Ron asked, "Do you recon they'll be okay with it?"
"Seamus and Alicia already know you," Harry answered. "And they've both asked me a couple of times why you went to work with George rather than join the department. Kevin is pretty easygoing, so I'm sure he'll be fine. And Ben… well, he'll just have to deal with it. But what about Hermione? Is she okay with you becoming an Auror?"
Ron said, "She's a little nervous about it, but she knows it's what I want to do."
"I guess that settles it then," Harry said, reaching out his hand. "Let me be the first to welcome you aboard."
"Thanks!" Ron answered, shaking Harry's hand and looking happier than he had in months. "But like you said, I still have to apply and we have to get everyone to agree."
They sat in companionable silence for a while until Ron asked, "So, um… how about coming back to the hospital with me?"
"No, thanks," Harry answered. "I want to stay here for a while."
"Dad and Mum are planning to spend the evening there with Hermione and me," Ron persisted. "Bill and Fleur, and George and Percy will be coming by, too. Hermione insisted that the family get together, so Mum will have everyone around her tonight, you know, since it's Ginny's birthday and all."
"Ron," Harry sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, "no offense, but I'd rather be by myself tonight. I know Hermione means well, but I don't think I'd be very good company, anyway."
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," Ron replied, "but I overheard Hermione and Mum talking. They're really worried about you and about you being alone… Plus, Hermione made me promise that I'd do my best to get you to come back with me."
"And you can tell her that you did." Why couldn't everyone understand that really did want to be by himself?
"You're sure?" Ron asked.
"I'm sure. Thank everyone for understanding for me, will you?" Harry said.
"'Kay," Ron said as he stood up. But instead of leaving immediately, he added quietly, "I know… I mean, I think I know how hard it's been for you… Sometimes I feel like there was something more I could have done, that I should have been able to do something to save Ginny that night. It sometimes feels like it'll tear me apart inside when I think about it. And it was like that the whole time I was waiting for Hermione to wake up. I was scared, Harry. I mean really scared."
Harry glanced up at him, and Ron continued, "I was so afraid that I was going to lose her, and that made me realize just how much I love her. And how much I need her… I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I really do understand how it's been for you, and you know, if you ever need anything..."
"I know, thanks," Harry said so quietly that Ron barely heard him. Unable to find anything more to say, Harry drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and rested his forehead on his knees.
Ron cleared his throat, "I'd better get going, then. We'll be at the hospital most of the night, if you change your mind and feel like coming by."
The sun had nearly set by the time Harry decided it was time for him to leave and, taking one last look at the darkening western sky, he whispered, "Happy Birthday, Gin," and then he turned to head home to his empty cottage.
*********
Ginny's eyes slowly fluttered open and a frown creased her brow when she saw Martha. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry to utter a sound. Recognizing the symptoms, Martha quickly poured a glass of water from the pitcher sitting on the nearby table and brought it back to her.
Ginny's eyes had closed again, but they reopened when Martha gently helped her to hold her head up so she could take a few small sips of the cool water.
"Easy," Martha said. "Just a taste to wet the tongue for now."
"Thank you," Ginny replied in a hoarse whisper and she rested her head back on the pillow.
He moved his hand slowly toward his wand as he took in the scene without any outward sign of emotion. He knew she had a fiery temper and it was likely she would start causing some kind of commotion once she saw him. He was not in the mood to put up with it and he was fully prepared to bind or stun her if that was the only way to keep her quiet.
"Where am I?" Ginny asked softly.
Martha knew it was best to allow him to answer the girl's questions, and she looked back at him. Keeping his wand hidden at his side, but ready to use, he stepped forward.
"You are in my home, Miss Weasley," he answered, watching her carefully.
When he stepped from the shadows and into the lamp light, Ginny's eyes flew to his face and a surprised gasp escaped her lips. She sat up quickly, pressing her back up against the headboard of the bed.
"Wh-who are you?" Ginny demanded.
Startled by her question, he asked, "You don't know who I am?"
"No… for a moment I thought…"
Something in the deep recesses of her memory was telling her that the features of the man standing before her were all wrong, and that he was not the one who should be there beside her. In her mind, an entirely different visage was forming, but before it became clear enough for her recognize, she was suddenly overcome by an intense feeling of fear and… grief? Then the image was completely gone, swirling and dissipating, like the smoke from an extinguished flame.
Ginny's eyes locked with his a few moments before she answered more certainly, "No, I don't know who you are."
He moved closer to the bed to ensure Ginny could get a good look at his face and said, "You're saying that you really don't remember me?"
"No..." Ginny replied, eying him warily. "Should I?"
"My name is Draco Malfoy," he answered slowly. "We… ah… we went to school together… at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Ginny repeated, furrowing her brow. "I'm sorry. It doesn't sound familiar."
Draco frowned, wondering what she was playing at and he asked, "Can I assume you know that your name is Ginny Weasley?"
Ginny stared at him blankly for a moment and then he saw a shadow of fear cross her face. Here it comes, Draco thought to himself and he tightened his grip on his wand.
Instead of springing off the bed to attack him like he expected she might, Ginny only looked away and brought her hands up to massage her temples.
"I… I don't know… I can't seem to recall whether that's my name or not," Ginny said shakily.
Draco exchanged a shocked look with Martha, who was watching Ginny with growing concern.
"It's alright, lamb," Martha said gently, "take things slowly."
She sat in the chair next to the bed and took Ginny's hand into hers. "Can you tell us if you remember anything... or anyone?" She just barely caught herself from adding 'like Harry Potter.'
Ginny pulled her hand away from Martha and brought her knees up to hug them close to her chest. What was wrong with her? These people seemed to know her, but she would swear that she had never seen either one of them before in her life. She knew she was a witch because several spells and charms came readily to her mind. She also briefly wondered where her wand could be since she did not see one on the nightstand next to the bed. But when she tried to think of people or of anyone she might know, there was nothing. It was like a wall had been erected to encase that part of her memory.
"No… I can't seem to recall anyone…" Ginny said fearfully to Martha. "What happened to me?"
Ginny looked back at Draco who was still watching her carefully. He seemed more relaxed now, and the coldness she thought she had seen in his eyes was gone. In her fear and confusion, had she only imagined it?
"Would you give us some privacy?" Draco asked, startling Martha. The tone of his voice was more pleasant than he ever used when addressing her before. She was further astounded when he added, "Please?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, of course," Martha replied and she quickly stood and went to the door. She turned back with some concern as she watched Draco take the seat beside Ginny that she just vacated.
Without looking toward her, Draco said, "I will call you if we need anything, Mrs. Pondergrass."
"Yes, sir," Martha replied and she left the room, wondering what Draco planned to tell the girl.
Draco smiled warmly at Ginny, "Other than your loss of memory, how are you feeling?"
"A bit stiff and sore," Ginny answered. "And a bit tired."
"That's understandable," Draco replied reassuringly. "You were badly hurt and you have been unconscious for a while."
"I have?" Ginny asked in surprise. "For how long?"
"Almost two months," Draco answered.
"Two months!" Ginny's eyes widened in shock. "What happened to me? How did I get hurt?"
Draco looked at her hesitantly and she pleaded, "Please tell me. I think I have the right to know."
"You were caught in an attack," Draco answered carefully. He watched her face for any sign that she remembered, or that her loss of memory was actually a ruse.
Seeing her react with shocked surprise, Draco dared to tell her more; "You were attending a… party… it was being held at a cottage on a cliff overlooking the ocean. You were near the edge of the cliff when they attacked and you were hit by a curse. I think you must have hit an outcropping of rock when you fell, but, luckily, I was able to catch you."
"I fell from a cliff?" She asked in wonder. "And you caught me?"
"Let's just say that I was in the right place at the right time," Draco answered. "I had my broom and I was able to fly out and catch you just before you hit the water. Then I brought you here. I tended your major wounds but when you would not wake up, I hired a nurse, Mrs. Pondergrass, to help care for you."
Ginny asked, "But why did you hire a nurse instead of taking me to a hospital?"
Draco answered truthfully, "I wanted to be certain the people from the attack would not find you."
"Does anyone know that I'm here?"
Draco replied, "Only Mrs. Pondergrass and me."
"But don't I have family or friends who could have helped to take care of me?" Ginny asked. If she had been attending a party when the attack happened, wouldn't someone be wondering where she was?
Draco answered, "You'll have to trust me when I say that I believed the only way to completely ensure your safety was to keep your whereabouts secret from everyone until you regained consciousness. Otherwise the people who led the attack may have come looking for you."
"So the attack was aimed at me?" Ginny asked, trying to swallow the fear she was starting to feel, while trying to make sense of what he was telling her.
"You, among others," Draco replied.
"They were after other people I was with, too? Who were the attackers?" Ginny asked. "Why did they attack?"
Instead of answering her questions, Draco decided to find out once and for all whether she truly had lost her memory. He asked, "Does the name 'Harry Potter' mean anything to you?"
"Harry Potter?" Ginny repeated the name, but she displayed no reaction. Draco let out a breath he had not realized he was holding; she must truly not remember, because he did not think she could be that good of an actress.
"No," Ginny continued, shaking her head; she had detected a definite sneer in Draco's voice when he said the name. "Was he responsible for the attack?"
Draco was about to answer in the negative but he caught himself and he said, "I think we should hold that for another time."
Ginny thought she saw something flicker in Draco's expression when she asked the last question, but she was not sure what it meant.
Draco continued, "After all, you just regained consciousness and I don't want do anything that could affect your healing."
"But—" Ginny started to protest.
"Later, I promise," Draco assured her and smiled. "I'd hate for Mrs. Pondergrass to get cross with me because I bothered you with too much too soon."
Draco could not be swayed to answer any more questions and Ginny had no choice but to settle back down in the bed. He gave her hand a squeeze, "Rest for now and we'll talk more later."
When he left Ginny's room, he closed the door quietly behind him and he nearly bumped into Mrs. Pondergrass hovering in the hallway.
"What's wrong with her?" The coldness was back in his voice when he addressed her. "Why can't she remember anything?"
"I'm not sure, sir," Martha replied. "It could be the curse she was struck with or a result of the injuries from the fall. I have also heard of a few cases of memory loss that resulted from emotional trauma the victim suffered."
"Will her memory come back?" Draco asked.
"I'm afraid I cannot say, sir," Martha answered. "Perhaps with time, or after she is told about her past, or about her family and friends, it may."
Draco contemplated her answer for a moment and then he said, "You are to tell her nothing; you will leave all explanations to me. Tell her nothing about her life or about the attack and most especially, do not tell her anything about Harry Potter."
"But why?" Martha asked in surprise. "He's her fiancé!"
"I have my reasons, which are none of your concern!" Draco answered. "I remind you of what I told you when you agreed to take this job. Your life, as well as hers, depends on your discretion."
Martha looked away from him and she wrung her hands nervously.
"You will say nothing!" Draco repeated in a frightening hiss. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Martha answered in a small voice.
"You had better!" Draco said and he walked away, leaving Martha to stare after him with mounting anxiety.
