Author's Notes: Once again, if you'd like to stay updated or find some cookies for future chapters, you can check out my livejournal. My username on LJ is littlebit_liz.

Since it's been a while, I just wanted to remind everyone that this fic is compliant through HBP. I have tried to make it compliant with DH in small ways, as much as I can, but it really can't be fully compliant with DH, since the whole premise of this fic is based on the fact that Voldemort isn't dead yet. So I consider it compliant with DH up to a certain point.

________________________________________________________

Chapter Nine

***

A kind of gloom had wrapped itself around the Ministry, the darkness and the wreckage giving it the feel of an abandoned graveyard. Draco picked through the rubble warily, a chill prickling down his back. He was sure that, during the day, Ministry workers were doing everything they could to restore the place as soon as possible, but at night, it was empty and eerie.

He cursed as he tripped over a splintered table, a shock of pain burning through his ripped torso, which was still bandaged heavily beneath his robes. He grimaced as he straightened and continued down the corridor. Certainly the sixth level hadn't had much work done on it yet, which Draco found irritating and stupid, considering the sixth level ran Transport. Which was fairly important.

An incredulous part of his mind was berating him for his idiocy in leaving the hospital and coming down here in the first place, but as far as Draco was concerned, there was no other option. Lupin hadn't said as much, but besides the fact that his son—and Weasley—could be anywhere, in any condition, there was still the danger of the Death Eaters. If Weasley was to be believed (and as much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help but speculate), then his father was after Will, and by extension, possibly other Death Eaters were as well. And Draco had to get there before them.

Ignoring the sting of his father's betrayal (and the sting of his injuries), Draco turned his focus to his present task, as he reached the Portkey Office. He found the shelf holding Portkeys for St. Mungo's almost immediately. After quickly running his eyes over it, it seemed obvious that none of them were missing, not that he could tell just by looking, anyway. Which confirmed only what he already knew; Weasley had not gone to St. Mungo's. He turned, scouring the rest of the nearby shelves, which were incredibly dusty, considering that emergency Portkeys were almost never used. Thanks to the dust, it didn't take long for his eyes to fall upon an empty spot on one of the shelves, a space between two Portkeys that was not covered in dust. Indicating that, until a little while ago, it had held a Portkey as well.

Draco bent forward to read the plaque identifying the Portkey's destination. If Weasley had taken this one, then she'd gone to—

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Draco jumped a foot in the air, spinning around in shock. He froze when his eyes fell upon a dark figure in the doorway. The shadows shifted as the figure stepped forward, and a witch materialized out of the darkness, her hair askew, her clothes rumpled, and somewhat thinner than he remembered.

"Granger?" Draco heaved a deep sigh of relief, but threw a glare her way at the same time. "What do you think you're doing, sneaking around here at night? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Granger crossed her arms beneath her chest coolly. "I could ask you the same question, Malfoy. In fact, I think I just did."

Draco surveyed her appearance with undisguised contempt. The Mudblood looked as though she'd been living off the streets for a few weeks. Summoning a familiar smirk, he asked, "What happened to you?"

"Answer the question, Malfoy." Her tone was flat, dull. Unlike the incensed anger he usually got from her.

"Not that it's any of your business—" Draco sneered "—but I'm going after Weasley."

Granger's reaction was nothing he expected. Instead of being surprised or questioning his motives, she blanched considerably and sucked in a sharp breath. "You're what?" The demand came out like a strangled gasp.

"Ginny Weasley?" Draco said impatiently. Really, what was wrong with her? "I'm going to find her, and my son, and bring them back."

There was a long pause while Granger seemed to regain her composure, though Draco couldn't say why she'd lost it in the first place. "Why?" she asked finally, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Going after Ginny? What do you plan to do to her, Malfoy?"

"In case you'd forgotten, Granger," Draco said coldly, "I don't usually go around doing things to you people anymore. I didn't do anything to Weasley when she went all wonky and collapsed in my house, did I? Not to mention, I seem to recall saving your life just a few days ago."

"Only so you wouldn't be indebted to me."

Draco shrugged. "Saving is saving, isn't it?"

He expected an eye roll or some self-righteous comment, but for a moment, Granger said nothing, did nothing, but stared at him. Then, "I thought he was dead," Granger remarked, casually, as though talking about the weather. "Your baby."

"Everyone assumed he was dead," Draco said dismissively. "Having seen him myself, I happen to know better. Weasley found him and brought him to me. She was supposed to get him to safety after that, from here—" Draco grimaced, glancing back at the empty spot where a Portkey had been, "—but she took the wrong Portkey. Stupid bint," he muttered, more to himself than to Granger. "Can't she read?"

He almost jumped again when the Mudblood came forward suddenly, a frown on her face now. "Where did she go, then?" she asked, peering towards the shelf as well.

"The wizarding hospital in Paris." Draco sighed, straightening up. "At least, I think she did. There's a Portkey missing, anyway."

"Anyone could have taken that Portkey, Malfoy." Ah, there was the eye roll from Granger. "And I don't think you want to go harping off to France on the off-chance Ginny and your son might be there. France isn't exactly the safest place to be right now."

Draco froze. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

Granger shrugged. "Well, all we've got is rumors, but—"

"What do you mean, Granger?" Draco growled.

"You still haven't explained why you care to bring Ginny back," Granger pointed out, ignoring his demands. "How do I know that when you find her and your son, you won't just take him and leave her to die?"

"Tempting, Granger," Draco snarled, "but unfortunately, not really an option. You see, quite a lot of Death Eaters are after my blood right now."

"So?" Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Use your head, Granger. So leaving Weasley in a spot of trouble wouldn't go over well with your lot, would it?"

"And you don't want to alienate us, is that it, Malfoy?" Granger stared at him, not quite glaring, but certainly her look was one of disapproval. "If you don't have your Death Eater pals for protection, than you want to stay on our good side, is that it?" She shook her head. "So, as usual, it's all about yourself."

"What do my motives matter, Granger?" Draco asked harshly. Her words rang in his mind, conflicting with the words of a different witch—It was pretty decent of you—Draco shook his head, driving those thoughts from his mind.

For several long moments, Granger seemed to consider him. Finally, she said, "The records for the emergency Portkeys are in this office." She jerked her head back, indicating a door behind her. "If there's nothing on that Portkey to the hospital in Paris, then Ginny probably took it."

"How do you know?" Draco demanded, slightly taken aback by her sudden change in tack.

"We have to access them all the time, of course." She turned, taking out her wand to use on the locked door. "As Aurors."

Draco stepped up behind her, his eyes narrowing as she performed a complicated bit of spell work to unlock the door. Strange, that she wanted to help him all of a sudden, but then, he supposed, it wasn't really him she wanted to help, it was her pal the she-weasel.

"All right." Granger stepped inside the little office and immediately went for a file cabinet. Draco followed slowly, watching as she pulled out a few records and began flipping through them. She paused to shoot Draco a glare. "By all means, don't help."

Draco scowled. "You seem to be doing bloody fine on your own, thanks." He didn't like her helping him. It wasn't natural, and it made him feel uncomfortable. But then, his son was on the line. He couldn't really be choosy about allies.

"Well, it's right here, anyway." Granger pulled out a sheet of parchment and scanned it quickly. "There's no record of any Portkey to that hospital being used in the two days prior to the attack. Any earlier than that and it would have been replaced by now."

"Good. Then I'm going."

"Sure you're up to it?" Granger called after him. "You're looking a bit worse for wear."

"Looked in a mirror yourself lately, Mudblood?" Draco said, turning on her with a sneer.

"I'm just saying—" She cut off with a sigh. "Look, France is dangerous right now. The Death Eaters have a lot of power over there, much like they did here, when Voldemort was in power at the Ministry."

Repressing a flinch at the name of the Dark Lord, Draco retorted, "Well, I don't see what choice I have, Granger. I'm certainly not leaving my son in a country controlled by Death Eaters."

She stared at him pensively. "Do you have a wand?"

Draco shook his head mutely. Without a moment's hesitation, she reached back into her pocket and handed him a wand. Her wand.

Draco snorted mirthlessly, taking the wand from her. "I can't promise you'll get it back," he told her.

"That's all right," Granger murmured, quietly, so quietly that he wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "I won't be needing it."

"What?" His eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. "What did you say?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Go on, then."

Shaking his head, Draco turned to leave. He could feel her eyes on him as he left the little office and headed for the Portkeys, and it unnerved him. She certainly was acting utterly barmy, that was for sure. Still, it was hard to judge these nobles types. You never could tell what they were going to do. "Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered, reaching for a Portkey.

"Malfoy." Draco paused, turning back at his name. Granger looked at him unblinkingly. "You do realize you owe me again? After helping you here."

Draco scowled. "Don't worry, Mudblood. I'll pay you back." He paused, taking in her disheveled appearance one last time. "What did happen to you, Granger?" he demanded.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked tonelessly.

Malfoy shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Granger eyed him a moment longer. Then, "Fine. I'll tell you."

***

Ginny was roughly shaken awake late in the night, and she opened her eyes to find a frantic Gabrielle bending over her. "Ginny, Ginny," she whispered, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "You must wake up, 'urry, we must go now."

"Wh-what?" Ginny sat up sleepily, pushing her bedraggled hair out of her face. "Gabrielle, what are you—what's going on?" She snapped to attention suddenly, calling to mind everything that was at stake, here, in this hospital. "Is it Will? Did something happen to him? Or the Death Eaters, have they—"

Gabrielle cut in with a little moan of panic. "Ginny, please, I will tell you everyzing, but right now, we must go, yes? Zere is no time, zey know 'e is 'ere—"

"They know Will is here?" Ginny practically jumped out of her bed, following a beckoning Gabrielle to the door.

"No, no, Will eez safe," Gabrielle whispered, her tone distracted as she reached for the door handle. "But he will not be, I am theenking, if we don't—"

She went silent with a little gasp, falling back and motioning Ginny to silence. Ginny peered over her shoulder and spotted, through the crack in the door that Gabrielle had left open, the cause of her alarm. Ginny stifled her own panic when she saw Rabastan Lestrange, once again lurking in the corridor outside her room. He was speaking in rapid French with a Healer, a balding man who looked somewhat bewildered at whatever Lestrange was saying to him. After a moment, the Healer took off, but they weren't out of the woods yet. Holding their breath, Gabrielle and Ginny watched as another black-robed man—presumably another Death Eater—approached Lestrange. He was a shorter, squat sort of man, and he had a harried look on his face.

"Any sign of him?" Lestrange demanded.

"No, nothing." The squat Death Eater shook his head. "Damn it all, he just took off as soon as he laid eyes on me! If that's not confirmation of his betrayal—"

"Betrayal aside, we might have had him if you hadn't so recklessly approached him," Lestrange said coldly. "Find him. If Greyback gets word of this, and we don't have him, we'll all pay the price."

"What is he doing here, anyway?" the squat man said irritably. "What did he come here for?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Lestrange said grimly. He turned and started off down the corridor with the smaller man, the both of them still talking animatedly. Gabrielle eased the door open bit by bit, watching until they rounded the corner and were out of sight. Then she flung the door open fully.

"Quickly, quickly," she murmured, beckoning Ginny to follow her out into the corridor. "I told you, zey know 'e is 'ere—"

"Who, Gabrielle?" Ginny demanded in a whisper, keeping a lookout behind them as they hurried down the corridor. Her arm still felt on fire, but the obvious urgency of the situation propelled her on anyway. "Did someone come in response to your owl? But why would they come here; I thought you instructed them to meet at your place—"

"'e did not come because of 'ze owl," Gabrielle muttered, peering carefully around the corner before continuing on. "So I 'ope zat someone will, because ozerwise, I do not know 'ow to get you back to England and—'ere!" She stopped suddenly, opening the door to what seemed to be a small, dark supply closet. "Inside, quickly!"

"Gabrielle, what—?" Bewildered, Ginny allowed herself to be ushered inside. "I thought we were going to get Will!"

"I am going to get Will," Gabrielle said. She seemed to be trying to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Honestly, ze two of you, both so stubborn—eet will seem suspicious if you go for Will, yes? I can get 'im safely. Besides, ze patients, zey 'ave been confined to zeir rooms. You cannot be seen walking ze 'alls in your patient gown. Draco, 'e is bringing your robes 'ere, yes?"

Ginny's jaw dropped open. She thought she could actually feel the blood draining from her face. "D-Draco? Draco Malfoy?"

"I zink so." Gabrielle threw her a quick look. "'e is ze baby's father, yes? At first I was theenking 'e was after Will like ze Death Eaters, but 'e seemed—"

"No, no, he's—he's Will's father—but—Gabrielle, what is he doing here? How did he even know—"

"You will 'ave to ask 'im." Gabrielle glanced out into the corridor. "I must go, zere is no time. Stay 'ere, yes? I will be back, wiz Will."

"Gabrielle, wait, what—" But the door slammed shut as Gabrielle hurried out into the corridor, and Ginny was left alone, in darkness.

Ginny huffed a sigh, resisting the urge to run after Gabrielle. She didn't like being stuck here, unable to do anything, and with no wand to defend herself, for that matter. What's worse, she didn't understand what was happening at all. So Malfoy was here? Malfoy? And apparently he'd come for Will, but how did he even know Will was here? How did he even know about Will? And what were those Death Eaters on about, saying he'd betrayed them? Damn it, she'd only lost a day, and yet everything had, apparently, changed in that day. She'd ended up in this hospital with Malfoy's son, a son Malfoy apparently knew was born, even though he must have been born the very day, or the day before, she ended up in this hospital. What on earth happened during the attack on the Ministry?

The door swung open suddenly, and Ginny jumped, whirling around. She didn't hesitate for a second as she swung her arm around to hit the intruder in the face—

"Whoa, what—Weasley! What do you think you're doing?"

Ginny swore when her fist was caught in a tight grip, but then she blinked in the darkness, seeing, for the first time, who stood before her. "Malfoy? It is you!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, his grip still tight on her hand. "Of course it is," he snapped. "Who were you expecting?"

"Well, I thought you were a Death Eater, barging in like that!" Ginny hissed. "Would you let go of me, please?"

Malfoy started, dropping her hand suddenly as though it were one fire. He shut the door behind him, tossing a bundle into Ginny's arms as he did—her clothes, she realized. "Hurry up and get changed, Weasley. And where's that Delacour girl, anyhow? I thought she was getting Will!"

"She is." Now Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned away, hiding herself from him behind a large shelf stacked full of supplies. Her fingers fumbled with the gown's tie at her neck before she managed to get it off. "She brought me here first and—hang on." She froze in the act of buttoning up her jeans. "How did you know we've been calling him Will? Did Gabrielle tell you?"

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" Malfoy sounded irritated. "You told me his name is Will, right after he was born."

"What?" In spite of the dangerous situation, a rush of excitement flooded Ginny at the prospect of finding out what had happened, of finally getting the answers she couldn't remember. "Born where? When?"

"At the Ministry, of course, when the Death Eaters attacked."

Ginny jumped and spun around without thinking, his voice having come from much closer than it did before. He was peering around the shelf at her, though she couldn't make out the expression on his face in the darkness. In only her jeans and her bra, Ginny flushed, but then she realized he probably couldn't see much more than she could. Still, she turned her back on him and pulled on her shirt, hastening to button it up. "Why was he born there?" Ginny asked. "Why was Carina—"

"Damn it, Weasley, you know why, so stop acting like a—"

He broke off, jumping in time with Ginny when the door opened again, much more slowly and quietly this time. Ginny heard Malfoy echo her sigh of relief when Gabrielle poked her head inside before hurrying in, shutting the door behind her. Ginny was even more relieved to see that she had Will in her arms, though in the darkness, she couldn't tell if the baby was silent because he was sleeping or because he'd been Silenced.

Malfoy threw them a sharp look, as though to determine that Gabrielle had truly returned his son safely to him, but when his eyes fell on Will, a sort of tension seemed to go out of him. He relaxed even further when Gabrielle handed the baby to him.

Pulling on her robes over her clothes, Ginny squinted, trying to make out his expression in the darkness. Gabrielle stepped forward, opening her mouth to address them, but Ginny beat her to it. "So are you taking him now, Malfoy? I thought you were giving him up, to keep him safe."

Malfoy rounded on her, and now that her eyes had adjusted a bit, she could make out the impatient scowl on his face. "You're the one who bloody told me I was all he has left now, Weasley! Why are you acting so barmy? More barmy than usual, I mean," he added with a sneer.

Ginny stared at him, her reply forgotten. All he has left? What does that mean? What happened to… Her thoughts trailed off. No. He can't mean Carina—

"Ginny 'as lost 'er memory, Draco." Gabrielle imparted this news almost absently as she peered out the door. "She does not remember anyzing."

"What?" Malfoy's eyes widened, his gaze going from Gabrielle to Ginny. "Not anything?"

"I remember plenty of things, thank you," Ginny said crossly, stepping out from behind the shelf so that she could peer at Will as well. Surprisingly, she found him awake but not crying. He seemed to find the darkness comfortable. Or perhaps it was being held by Malfoy that he found comfortable. Weird. "I just don't remember that, that day that the Ministry was apparently attacked," she said, glancing up from Will to look at Malfoy.

Malfoy snorted. "Then you missed a lot."

"Apparently," Ginny said dryly. She hesitated then, dropping her eyes from Malfoy's face. "Malfoy, what—what did you mean when you said you were all Will has left?"

She forced her gaze up and found Malfoy watching her with the strangest expression on his face. He almost looked…regretful…for just a moment. But then his eyes grew dark again. "What do you think I meant, Weasley?" He turned away from her. "Do you think I'd be taking Will if Carina were…" He trailed off.

Ginny swallowed. If Carina were alive. Oh, Merlin, no. Ginny shut her eyes. She wasn't sure why, but she couldn't help feeling…responsible, almost. A strange surge of guilt rushed through her. Before she had time to think about that, Gabrielle turned to them.

"We should go now," she said breathlessly. "The corridor looks clear."

"Where exactly are we going?" Malfoy demanded, following her as she eased the door open. "And how are we going to get out of here?"

"You and Ginny—and Will, of course—will go to my flat," Gabrielle whispered, motioning for them to follow her. The three of them inched out into the empty corridor. "I 'ave already told Ginny 'ow to get zere. Someone will come for you zere. As for 'ow we will get out of 'ere, well…" She shrugged, throwing Malfoy a dubious glance.

Malfoy swore quietly. "Here, Weasley," he said, rounding on her suddenly. Ginny quickly held out her arms to take Will as he deposited the baby into her arms. Then he pulled out his wand from his robes, glancing around warily. "So basically, we're going to have to fight our way out," he said. His tone indicated that he did not relish the idea. With Will in her arms, Ginny didn't much either.

"'opefully, it will not come much to that," Gabrielle said quietly. "I will try to distract anyone we come up against, so you can get away."

"Gabrielle—" Ginny shook her head as they approached a corner up ahead. "This is too dangerous for you. If they find out you've helped us—"

"They won't," Gabrielle said confidently. "I 'ave gotten by just fine so far, 'aven't I?"

"Yeah, Weasley," Malfoy muttered. "Can't you just accept help when it's offered?"

"Oh, shut it," Ginny snapped at him.

At the corner, Gabrielle stopped short of turning into the much larger corridor. Malfoy peered around behind her and went pale. "Shit," he whispered. "Shit, shit, shit."

Ginny glanced around to see the source of his swearing. At the Healers' station, just on their left, two black-robed men stood, speaking roughly to the young trainee there. One of them was speaking in French and gesturing wildly down the opposite corridor.

Gabrielle licked her lips anxiously. "I theenk zey know ze baby eez gone."

"That's Mulciber," Malfoy said hoarsely. "And my uncle Rodolphus."

Ginny recognized them both; they had both been at the Department of Mysteries in her fourth year. "Rodolphus Lestrange?" she asked. "His brother is here, too."

"I know," Malfoy said grimly. "Let's just hope that doesn't mean my aunt is here as well."

Ginny nodded. She knew which aunt he was referring to.

Just then, one of the lifts clattered into view, and as it opened, a gaggle of Healers and trainees stepped out, heading towards the Healers' station. "Quickly, go," Gabrielle whispered, shoving Malfoy off towards the lift. "I will distract zem."

"Gabrielle—" Ginny began to object, but Malfoy seized her by the arm and pulled her out towards the lift. Wand at the ready in his other hand, he moved them past the crowd of Healers, past the Death Eaters, whose backs were turned to them, and towards the lift that had just opened up. As one last Healer, an older woman, stepped out of the lift, Ginny glanced back over her shoulder and found Mulciber staring after them, squinting through the group of Healers. Before she could look away, his gaze met hers, and his eyes widened. He let out a shout and started forward, pushing through the people.

"Malfoy, they've seen us!" Ginny said urgently. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, Malfoy practically threw Ginny and Will into the lift before hurtling in after them. As the lift door began to shut, Mulciber, pushing after them, raised his wand and shouted a curse that came springing towards them. Ginny heard the Healers screaming in alarm, and she found herself close to panic as well. Malfoy, however, was ready for the attack. He raised his own wand and cast a Shield Charm, and Mulciber's curse was deflected off as the lift doors shut before he could reach them.

The lift began its descent. Ginny looked to Malfoy, but he was shaking his head and muttering curses.

"They'll stop the lift," Ginny pointed out. "If they're running things here, they can do that."

"No, really?" Malfoy cut back, taking Will from her arms with no explanation. When she shot him a puzzled glance, he snapped, "You look like you're about to drop him, Weasley. What happened to your arm, anyway?"

Ginny shrugged. "Some curse." She was sure she wouldn't have dropped the baby, but her arm had been protesting with pain at having to hold him. At that moment, Will chose to open his mouth and start howling. Malfoy quickly Silenced him, managing to actually look apologetic as he did so, and then he hefted the baby boy into one arm, still holding his wand in the other. Ginny was about to ask that he give the wand over to her when the lift suddenly clattered to a halt.

"Oh, not again," Malfoy muttered. Before Ginny could ask him what he meant, the lift doors opened, and they found themselves on one of the lower floors. Looking surprised but relieved, Malfoy shoved past the three trainee Healers waiting to get inside the lift. Ginny followed, ignoring the trainees' confused glances and whispers.

At first, there didn't appear to be any Death Eaters in sight. Malfoy hurried past the Healers' station, not even slowing as he demanded of a trainee, "The stairs, where are the stairs?"

The trainee looked confused and Malfoy swore softly before speaking to her in French, presumably repeating his question. She answered him hesitantly, and Malfoy wasted no time. Ginny struggled to keep up with his long-legged pace, apparently unhindered by carrying his baby, as they sprinted through the double doors the trainee had pointed to, and down the stairs. They hadn't reached the middle landing when shouts from below alerted them to more trouble. Ginny glanced down: Death Eaters, three of them, running up the stairs towards them.

"Shit!" Malfoy swore. He spun around, shoving Ginny back up the steps with the back of his wand hand. Seeing this, the Death Eaters from below shot curses up at them. Dodging the jets of red and green light, Malfoy ran back through the double doors, pushing past Ginny again, his wand held at the ready. Ginny stumbled to keep up with him; her arm was burning with all the sudden movement.

Out in the open, they sprinted across the Healers' station, towards a similar pair of doors that, with luck, led to more stairs. When they were nearly there, Ginny heard commotion behind them—confused Healers screaming and more curses shouted their way. But Malfoy was relentless. He pushed through the double doors and all but leapt down the stairs. Ginny's newly-healed ribs were aching, her breath coming short, and her head pounding once again; Will's face, she noticed, was twisted in silent cries, but Malfoy kept going, down and down the stairs. His face was alight with sweat, his normally neat and tidy hair askew, and he looked as though he were fighting a limp.

They finally reached the bottom landing without any trouble, but just as Malfoy made as though to move through the double doors, a black-robed figure jumped out from the corner, wand pointed at them. Like all of the rest of the Death Eaters here, she wore no hood or cowl. Ginny recognized her immediately, and her heart plummeted. Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Going somewhere, Draco?" she asked, her face alight with hungry anticipation.

Malfoy backed up a few paces, his face pale. "Get out of the way," he ordered warily, but Ginny thought his hand shook a bit as he raised his wand. Ginny backed up with him, feeling entirely useless without a wand to defend or attack with.

"I don't think so, Draco," Bellatrix replied.

"Get out of my way!" Malfoy roared, his grip tightening on his wand and on his son.

"I must say, Draco, you've certainly become a bit nervier, after three years in prison." Bellatrix advanced on them, her eyes feverish as they looked from Draco, to Ginny, then back to Draco. Ginny repressed a shiver. "Quite a surprise. But then, I rather hoped you would have used that newfound courage to help us—" Her expression darkened "—rather than to turn against us."

"I haven't done any such thing," Malfoy spat.

"You fought against your fellow Death Eaters at the Ministry! Do not lie to me, Draco!"

"I didn't have much choice." Malfoy licked his lips. "Those Death Eaters would never have given me the chance to fight with them!"

"And whose fault is that?" Bellatrix snarled. "You're a failure, Draco. Your whole family is a failure! And the Dark Lord will see that you get what's coming to you once he's returned—"

"That's supposing he does return," Ginny snapped, unable to hold back.

Malfoy hissed at her to be quiet, but Bellatrix turned her gaze on her, a wicked smile on her face. "Aren't you a feisty one?" Her smile widened in a most unpleasant way. "Mark my words, the Dark Lord will return, girl. And all who have defied him will suffer at his hands." She turned back to Malfoy. "Which needn't be you, Draco. Just hand over the boy, and no one will get hurt." Her eyes flashed in Ginny's direction. "Well, almost no one," she purred.

"What do you want with him?" Malfoy asked warily. "He's no one—"

"He's your son," Bellatrix cut in. "Oh, yes, we've discovered your little deception, Draco. And he won't be harmed, so long as you hand him over quietly and just let—"

"Yeah, right." Ginny laughed mirthlessly, taking a reckless step forward. "He won't be harmed? What do you want him for, then? Going to be play at being his mum, are you? Because you don't really strike me as the maternal type."

"Nor do you," Bellatrix sneered. She indicated with her wand, directing Malfoy's attention to Ginny. "Hand the boy over, Draco, or this one will be tortured within an inch of her life. I have wanted to before, haven't I?" she said with relish, her eyes alighting on Ginny. "Yes, you were the same pretty little girl at the Department of Mysteries, weren't you? All those years ago. Of course, I didn't get the chance to play with you back then…to make you scream…"

"You won't get it now either," Ginny said defiantly, ignoring the prickle of alarm going down her spine.

"You think so? I could do it right now, right here. There's nothing stopping me from killing you, if I so please…" She smiled suddenly, an almost triumphant expression on her face, "…just as I saw that Zabini boy killed. It was you he was parading around in Hogsmeade that day, wasn't it?"

Ginny went cold. All the anger and audacity building within her seemed to deflate in an instant. "You…what?" she heard herself say, breathing in sharply.

Malfoy shot her an aggravated look. "Weasley—"

"Of course, it wasn't quite as quick as you probably think," Bellatrix went on, her words like a merciless onslaught. "He didn't die that day in the village. We took him and tortured him for hours. Days, even. He was begging for death by the time we were through with him."

Ginny thought Malfoy was saying something, but his words were distant, unable to pierce through the thick rush of horror and shock washing over her. Blaise. Blaise. No, no, they couldn't have done all that…he couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be, he had to be out there still…she had to believe that…but…

The reality of it all slammed into her, like a dull knife impaling her through her chest. She shut her eyes, tried to focus, and the present came back to her slowly. Bellatrix was talking, but not to her anymore.

"Don't think I won't do it," she snarled at Malfoy.

"I know you would," Malfoy said coldly, "and I'm telling you, I don't care. I came here for my son—you think a flea-bitten Weasley means anything to me? Do what you want to her."

Ginny gaped at him, still reeling from the shock of Bellatrix's words. Of course, she and Malfoy were hardly friends, but hearing this, after what she'd just been told, was like being doused with cold water.

Bellatrix's twisted smile widened. "Very well, then." Maliciously, she turned her wand on Ginny, foolishly taking her eyes off Malfoy. "Cruc-"

"Stupefy!" Malfoy bellowed. With a scream cut short, Bellatrix went sprawling back, falling in an unconscious heap at their feet. Malfoy, quite suddenly, shoved Will into Ginny's arms, before turning on his helpless aunt. Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen quite an expression on his face before: he looked furious, but his anger was mingled with desperation and maybe even fear. He swallowed as he trained his wand on the unconscious Bellatrix, his eyes a little wild.

Suddenly, Ginny realized what he was trying to make himself do. "Malfoy, don't." She rushed forward, trying to look him in the eye. "No. Don't do it."

"I have to," Malfoy said, his words coming out from between clenched teeth. He evaded her gaze, his eyes riveted on his fallen aunt. "If I don't kill her—"

"No, Malfoy." Ginny stepped between him and Bellatrix, fighting back a surge of fear as she placed herself in front of his wand. "You don't have to. You don't."

Hesitating, Malfoy took his gaze from Bellatrix and looked at Ginny. His wand hand wavered a little.

"Someone else will," Ginny said firmly. " Someone else. But not you."

Malfoy's chin trembled, though with anger or fear or panic, Ginny didn't know. She felt as though she were holding her breath in that moment, but then Malfoy stepped back, dropping his wand.

"Let's get out of here," he said hoarsely.

Ginny nodded and turned, leading him out through the double doors, out of the hospital, and into the black night. As they hurried through the streets of Paris, passing a person here, a person there, Ginny felt as though reality were draining away from her, the shock of hearing what had happened to Blaise muffling up her thoughts and her senses. She was vaguely aware of still holding Will in her arms, vaguely aware of leading Malfoy to Gabrielle's flat, following the directions her sister-in-law had given her.

"This is it." Ginny stopped breathlessly before the door to the small flat Gabrielle had instructed her to. She pushed through the front door and hurried up the winding steps to the third floor, where Gabrielle's flat was. They passed no one on the stairs or in the corridor, for which Ginny was grateful.

Once inside, Malfoy set several incantations over the door to ward it against any intruders. Ginny felt her knees buckling as soon as she reached the small loveseat sofa in the corner of the room, and she let herself collapse into it, setting Will in her lap. She suddenly felt close to tears; she couldn't help it. Now that they were here, now that they were safe, or at least as safe as they were going to be, she felt as though everything was crashing over her—the pain, the exhaustion, the panic. Blaise.

Suddenly, Malfoy was there, looming over her, and he took Will from her, after finally setting his wand aside. She expected him to turn away then, but he didn't. She had the strangest feeling that he was staring at her.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Weasley—about Zabini—"

"Forget it," Ginny cut in. Her voice was hollow to her own ears. "It's not like I really thought he might be alive." She laughed, or tried to. "How could he have been? What would they have kept him alive for?"

"Look, Weasley—"

"He'd betrayed them, as far as they were concerned," she said dully. "You heard her. Parading me around in Hogsmeade. She was right; he was. Because of me, of course. Because I wanted to sneak out there with him that day."

He didn't say anything this time, and Ginny dared to look up at him. Their eyes met, and Ginny was irresistibly reminded of the last time she'd been with him, or at least, the last time she remembered being with him. The last time she'd spoken of Blaise to him. Of course, she'd been pretty delusional that time, and that had led to…

Malfoy swallowed and blinked several times, and for a moment, Ginny thought he was thinking of the exact same thing she was. But then he looked away, a frown coming over his face. "We should sleep in turns," he said, "so one of us can keep guard until your bloody Order pals get here." Hr shrugged, shifting Will in his arms. "Nothing else to do, is there?"

Ginny settled back into the loveseat, her eyes already falling shut of their own accord, exhaustion stealing over her. "No," she murmured sleepily, "nothing."

She didn't dream about pain and violence this time. Instead, she dreamed of warm hands and soft lips on hers. The only problem was, she wasn't sure whose lips they were.

- - - - -