Tracey states that we are to have dinner with her and Ian, no questions asked. She also states that it is nice to finally be able to use magic in front of me. Blaise put a rule that she was not to use magic on the days that I came over to their house for dinner and it would make cooking about three times as long. When I first began, Blaise went so far as taking her wand away so she wouldn't be tempted. Didn't matter that she lives in a non-magical, or Muggle as Granger calls it, community. She still did a few things with magic over the course of her regular days.

"Ian even has beginning to show signs of his own magic," Tracey beams proudly. "He is getting his favorite stuffed animals in his crib after I turn off the lights. Merlin help me when he gets older. I hope I can convince the headmaster to have him go to Hogwarts and not go to a school here. I want to see him off at King's Cross and take him shopping in Diagon Alley. I just wish Blaise could be there with me." A sniffle escapes her, but it doesn't sound right. "Now I guess I have no reason to stay in the States. I might just move back to England and take Ian. Right now, everything is still so fresh and the department still has Blaise's death under investigation. Until it is closed, I don't know if I should leave. It isn't like we won't be getting his death benefits in England as we are here."

Granger puts a comforting hand over hers, "I will be there if you need. If you want to stay here, I am sure Draco can help. Whatever you choose, we both support you. I could talk to Blaise's family at home if you would like. Let them know about Ian. It might be easier for you to come home if I did."

"You'd… you'd do that?" Her tears are now flowing freely, something that isn't comforting in the slightest for me. A crying dame is a pain.

"Of course I would. Madam Zabini would love to hear about Ian. Trust me. That little boy would be spoiled before you know it. She probably would insist you come home just so she could have a little Blaise to love and dote on."

The rest of dinner went on like this, these two chatting like sisters while I was left to my own ponderings.

"Granger, if these goons were sent out, why would they go after Blaise? Why wouldn't they go after me directly?" I ask after we leave Tracey's joint.

"Because Blaise let the Serpents down. The Serpents probably would have preferred you in their folds. Probably would try to convince you to return to England. Offing him would give them the opening to have you come to them, whether to find out what happened or to give you a reason to avenge him. They are known to give false information to manipulate people to get what they want. They would probably try to convince you that what you wanted was in England. That way they would have better control over you and your money. Word has it that your mum isn't letting anyone in on anything, even though Snape is a personal friend of hers." She paused in her tirade, looking down at her feet as we make our way down the dark sidewalk towards my office. "What Blaise didn't do, be it to save you or get out of the Serpents, doesn't matter anymore. He fell short. He upset the Serpents. And by doing so, he signed his own death certificate."

"How are we going to get these Serpents? I mean we aren't members; we can't just waltz into the Black Mermaid and take them all down," my snark returns with a vengeance as I ponder what we could do.

"We get Crabbe and Goyle. I need to submit your memories for the trial showing it was them that expelled the killing curse," her voice is taught but strong, like she is working through a thousand problems and Crabbe and Goyle are just one of them.

"I… how do I submit memories? Is it like giving a deposition?" I must look dumber than a broomstick with that question, but it just doesn't sound the same as to what I am used to in the non-magical world.

"Not really. It is a piece of magic that pulls the actual memory from your brain. Then other people can see it."

I nod, not fully understanding but thinking it might be something like a movie, "Okay, but I didn't get a good look at the guy who did it. I was blinded by a green light."

"Well we can walk around in the memory. Think of it as a movie that takes place all around you. We actually live what you saw. We are there in a way. It isn't the easiest to explain, but you did answer something without knowing it. That green light you saw, that was the killing curse," she says matter of factly, not like it actually was used to snuff the life out of someone close to both of us.

"So um, how do you get this memory?" I worry that it involves a lobotomy or something similar. I like my brains where they are and my platinum hair on my head.

"I can do it when we get to your office. I have a vial that I can store it with me." Her look goes distant again. "But I have an issue with Crabbe and Goyle though. If they were here to off you or, more likely, Blaise, they would not be hanging around. And they don't do anything without being told by someone else. Usually someone with authority in the Serpents chain of command. Something isn't sitting right and I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, let's sleep on it. Tomorrow we can wake with clear heads," because I know mine is foggy at the moment at the idea of pulling memories from me and who could be behind it all.

"Of course, that is brilliant. What time shall I see you tomorrow?" She turns her golden brown eyes on me and I feel myself getting lost in them forever.

"Tomorrow? I was thinking tonight?" I put on one of my more sly maneuvers as my arm slides around her waist. "This isn't the first night that we have been out together."

"Oh I didn't realize you considered this being out together. I considered it working the case," her naivete shows through.

"I could show you the town, and then maybe my place," although it isn't much to speak of, I wouldn't mind this night prolonged with her in my place.

"Oh I couldn't," she blushes. It is written over her face that she wants to as much as I. This flirting between us is leading somewhere, I just want that somewhere to be in my bed tonight. "I should get back to my hotel." We open the door to the office building, her foot not even on the first step as she turns to me.

"Don't-"

She cuts me off, "I'm sorry." And with a pop that I can only think is the way we have been getting around town today, disappears in front of me.

My head sinks to the banister of the stairs and I sigh, "Damn dames. They'll kill me."