A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers!
Ginny walked through the sterile white corridors of St. Mungo's, flanked by Hermione and Luna on either side, wondering if she ought to make a break for it. No. She was already hopelessly lost by now. So was Hermione, apparently. She stopped to ask someone for directions, and Ginny scanned the hall, making one last attempt to figure out where they were. Should I try to get Luna to help me? Her friend kept giving her miserable looks and pressing her hand in odd ways. She winked and grimaced, wiggled her shoulders around, and made strange signs with her fingers, but somehow none of it seemed very helpful. As Luna herself would undoubtedly say, it might all only be due to a sudden attack by the Frabjous Bandersnatch. A tall, thin, dark-skinned young man in a lab coat walked by them.
"Dean!" Ginny exclaimed without thinking.
He turned, and his face lit up with genuine pleasure when he saw her. "Ginny, whatever are you doing here?"
"Uh—" Oh, dear gods, what to say now? She'd seen Dean a few times since Hogwarts and she would have loved for them to become friends, but she'd always been uncomfortably aware that she'd treated him very badly when she'd thrown him over for Harry during her fifth year. Ginny had always hoped that she hadn't used him as coldly as she was afraid she had done, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, when she woke up from restless nightmares and propped her head up on her hands and stared out the window and felt very empty and cold, she wasn't so sure.
Hermione turned to him. "Dean, where's Examination Room 101?"
"To the left, but, uh… is it for…"
"Me," said Ginny suddenly. "And Dean, I want you to do the Imperius test."
He looked at her, his face reflecting all the shock she was sure he felt. "Me? But… Ginny… you can't really mean… it's not…Padma's around somewhere, I think, let me find her-"
"I don't want Padma Patil. I want you to do it, Dean. And I know what my rights are," she said, and she did. She remembered everything that had happened that summer when she was eleven years old with a terrible clarity, and she knew that it was her right to request a medical personnel of her choice to perform that test. She knew why they were all so shocked, too. Female mediwitches always did that test for a girl or woman. But she was going to break protocol, and even though she wasn't sure quite yet how it might help her, she had a feeling that it could. When the opportunity comes, she thought,I'll know.
Ginny sat on the little table in the brightly lit, boxlike room, resolutely ignoring Hermione. Luna stood in a corner, intently examining a remarkably uninteresting painting of a dreary landscape. Ginny wondered just how much longer they were all going to be stuck in there together. It was rather difficult to pretend they didn't notice one another's presence when the room was about eight feet square. How long could it take Dean to run those test results?
Hermione cleared her throat so loudly that Luna jumped, and a cow in the painting mooed and started running towards the horizon. "How have you been, Ginny?" she asked.
"None of your business," said Ginny. Well. So much for the small talk.
"I certainly know that you don't want to be here-" began Hermione.
"That's the understatement of the year!"
"But it really is necessary, Ginny. You did agree to go through with it."
"I'd rather agree than be dragged here in chains," said Ginny.
"Honestly, Ginny," sighed Hermione. "We weren't going to do anything like that."
Ginny remembered the chains fixed to the arms and legs of the chairs for defendants at the Wizengamot. Oh, you weren't, were you? "Fine," she snapped. "Let's get the explanation over with.
"I know you're convinced that Draco Malfoy couldn't have possibly put you under an Imperius curse—"
"Yes, I certainly am!"
"But I'd like you to understand why we think he really might have done, because we're just rather worried about your becoming associated with him in any way just now. The Department of Mysteries doesn't do things like this for arbitrary reasons. Ginny, he really could be involved with renewed Death Eater activity."
"I'd have a much easier time believing that," said Ginny, "if the Ministry actually had anything resembling proof. It doesn't sound like you have it yet."
"Not exactly, but…" Hermione hesitated. "There's something else. I've sifted through the evidence collected by the Aurors from the estate near Lyme last night, and I believe that some of it shows the magical trace of Malfoy activity, not just the actions of any former Death Eater. Draco Malfoy's the only one left, because his father and mother are both dead, of course. Harry doesn't know anything about this part yet, partly because nobody else at the Department of Mysteries agrees with me about it—yet—but they're going to see it my way, Ginny. And if I'm right, then—"
"Then you can explain how this photograph was taken," Ginny said dismissively, pointing to the copy of the Daily Prophet. Photo-Ginny made an alarmingly rude gesture at Hermione, who blanched back.
"I will," Hermione said earnestly. "I just don't know what the explanation is yet. Draco Malfoy could have easily lied to you about his involvement with whatever might be going on down in Dorset, even if it was only by omission, by simply not telling you. Couldn't he have hidden it from you? How well do you really know him, Ginny?"
Maybe…just possibly… just in theory, mind you… Hermione had just asked a question that had crossed Ginny's own mind a time or two. As unwelcome as the thought was, the deep vein of honesty in Ginny was making her squirm inwardly now. She didn't know him very well. She didn't know him at all, really, except that he was beautiful and charming and sexy, and that he made her laugh, and whenever she was around him, she wanted to lean in and sniff deeply and then start licking and tasting and nibbling and delving deeper and deeper into Draco Malfoy to find out just how deeply the taste of him really went. The flash of that other Draco she had seen that morning had frightened her, in a way. But whatever it meant, how she felt about it or what she thought was none of the Ministry's damn business. She glared back at Hermione without saying a word.
The door opened, and oh, thank all the gods!, it was Dean, holding a flat metal tablet. "The results are in." He put the tablet up on the wall and tapped it with his wand, and lines lit up." "Draco Malfoy didn't… ah… engage in any actual sexual activity with you last night, consensual or otherwise. That's all we can tell from that test, of course."
"What?" demanded Ginny. "This was only supposed to be the Imperius test!"
Dean cleared his throat. "I received orders to run the other one as well. That's what took so long."
Ginny turned on Hermione. "Why? Harry said he believed me when I told him that Malfoy hadn't done anything to me in that way!"
"It was a standard precaution in these sorts of cases, Ginny," said Hermione. "We had to be sure, and now we know."
"What sorts of cases?"
"Dean, what about the Imperius test?" asked Hermione.
"I'm getting to that," said Dean, looking unhappily at Ginny. "Hermione, was it really necessary to put Ginny through this? She clearly didn't want—"
"I've tried to be reasonable. But this is my job, Dean, and I've got to do it. I swore an oath. The results? Please?"
"Those were negative as well."
"Negative? Are you sure? Couldn't there have been a mistake?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, I'm sure, and no, there couldn't have been a mistake," said Dean. "Draco Malfoy did not put Ginny under an Imperius curse."
"Could he have done something else to her?"
"Hermione, I don't know, but that's not what you asked me to test for, and frankly, we can't do anything resembling a reliable test for anything else. He didn't force himself on her physically, and he didn't put her under Imperius. You can't convict him of anything along those lines. Give it up."
"No," snapped Hermione. "Dean, I need you to keep her here."
"We're done with the test," said Dean. "There's no reason to do that."
"There's a very good reason to do that," said Hermione.
Dean crossed his arms. "Then you'd better tell me what it is, Hermione."
"The Department of Mysteries doesn't need to explain—"
"Yeah, well, I don't work for the Department of Mysteries, even though they're interfering with hospital business," said Dean, "and I certainly don't work under you."
"That's as may be," said Hermione, "but you can't interfere with Ministry business. Although I suppose that under law, you do have the right to know what steps we're going to take. Harry sent out Aurors to bring Malfoy in on suspicion of putting you under Imperius, Ginny. We have reasonable cause to arrest him now, based on that suspicion. We can get him in on that and then get proof for all the rest. We'll send Aurors down to that Malfoy estate in Dorset, the one near Lyme Regis—"
"You planned this!" gasped Ginny. "Harry never cared about my being put under Imperius, and you certainly don't, Hermione. All either of you cares about is that you can use it to hold Draco Malfoy on trumped-up charges for this shite about Death Eaters!"
"It's all perfectly legal," snapped Hermione. "And anyway, Malfoy did it, Ginny, you know he did."
"Did what?"
"I—well—" Hermione looked confused for a moment. "I don't know all of the exact details, nobody does; but there's some sort of new Death Eater activity, and Malfoy's behind it. We've simply got to do something, and we're going to. I'm the one who's worked out the plan to catch him-"
"I'll just bet you have! But you don't know what really happened, any more than Harry does! You're both inventing things out of your own sick minds so that you can get Draco put away in Azkaban, where he'll die or go mad in a month, you just want to destroy him any way you can, I never want anything to do with either of you, ever again!" The bushy-haired girl was swimming before Ginny's eyes through a haze of red, and then all that Ginny could seem to see was handfuls and handfuls of that hair all over the floor, she'd tear out every bit of it herself by the roots-
Her own hands were stretching out towards the back of Hermione's head as the other woman turned to say something to Dean. Ginny watched her fingers curl into claws.
Then another pair of hands were clamping onto hers, dragging them down into her lap.
"Ginny's awfully upset," said Luna's apologetic voice. "I do think it would help if I could just take her to the loo for a bit, Hermione. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, yes," said Hermione, looking distinctly relieved. "Go on and take her."
'I'm so dreadfully sorry about this entire thing." Ginny could hear Luna's voice over the water running from the cold water tap in the little bathroom. She splashed it on her face and dried herself with a towel.
Ginny looked down at the countertop. She still had the copy of the Daily Prophet, and photo- Ginny and photo-Draco were sitting on a bench in the corner of the picture, talking intently about something. They were holding hands.
"You can make up for it now, Luna," she said.
"Whatever do you mean- oh. Do you think that toilet tank's sturdy enough?"
"I don't know," said Ginny, climbing on the back of it and up towards the small window. "There's only one way to find out."
"I can't just let you escape, you know," said Luna.
"Oh, I think you'll find that you can." Ginny drew her wand and pointed it straight at Luna's chest.
"That's not very nice," Luna observed mildly.
"Not telling me about Draco Malfoy being under investigation wasn't very nice either," said Ginny, hoisting one leg up over the windowsill.
"But I couldn't. I certainly wanted to, because I saw how happy and shiny you looked after every single time you saw him, but I just couldn't do it. I wanted to tell you about Hermione too, but we're required to sign that Secrecy Oath on the day we're hired and shown where our cubicles are, you see. We don't need to sign it in blood exactly, although I think I did prick my finger on the quill a bit, but it does keep us from telling anybody anything important about what's going in the Department of Mysteries. I feel ever so bad about that. And Hermione's been so horribly bossy ever since she started desperately trying to date Hakgfjaheitohjhj, so I wanted to tell you about that as well—oh, bother, I can't even say his name—"
"Malfoy said that he thought you were with a boyfriend on Saturday night, when he came back to our flat to try to drop me off," interrupted Ginny as a thought struck her. "But he was wrong. Harry was the one who was there, wasn't he? He was waiting for Malfoy to bring me back so that he could catch him? Just stomp on the floor once with your foot if I'm right, twice if I'm wrong."
Stomp.
"I knew it," muttered Ginny. "They probably just framed Malfoy from beginning to end. Well, I'm going back home."
Stomp. Stomp.
"I shouldn't go back home? But why? Oh… you can only answer yes or no questions. Because it's dangerous?"
Stomp.
"Don't tell me, let me guess! Of course, I suppose you must do anyway. The Department of Mysteries bloody well has our flat staked out?"
Stomp.
"I'm getting out of here right now, and then I'll figure out where to go," said Ginny, performing a Fracturing hex on the glass.
"You do seem rather determined," said Luna. "Could I ask you for one favor, then?"
"I'm not feeling very favorably inclined right now," said Ginny.
"Just Stun me and leave me lying on the floor, if you wouldn't mind," said Luna. "Otherwise, it'll cause ever so much bother, because they'll say I let you escape."
"All right," said Ginny. "But it's only because of our deep friendship, understand."
"Thanks awfully," said Luna, arranging herself neatly on the floor in preparation.
Tappity. Tappity. Tap tap tap!
Ginny scratched frantically with the tip of her wand at the door of the flat in Clapham. She had a very uneasy feeling about whether or not her Illusionment charm would actually succeed in hiding her from the Department of Mysteries for even one minute longer. That cat on the front step gave me a very strange look. Maybe it was a Kneazle. I hadn't heard the Ministry was using them as spies, but I didn't know they were forcing Imperius tests on people, either. At this point, I'd believe anything! Bill had sworn the charm worked beautifully against mummies in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, but how much of a recommendation was that, really? And why isn't anybody answering? Oh, fuck, what if he isn't home; then what do I do? I'll just have to risk it. Ginny drew her fist back.
Bang. Bang! bBang!/b
The door opened. Blaise Zabini winced and dodged out of the way of Ginny's fist.
"Oof! What's this all about, then? It's not that I'm against beautiful women beating me up in theory, understand, but my day for experiment along those lines is every other Thursday. And it's Sunday today, isn't it?" He blinked blearily at the clock on the wall. Its hands stood at Get Out of Bed, You Lazy Wanker. "What in Hermaphrodite's name are you doing at my door at the ungodly hour of five o'clock in the afternoon, Ginny Weasley? This had better be important."
"It is," said Ginny in a low voice. "It's rather desperate."
"Really?" Blaise leered at her. "Looking for an afternoon delight, then?"
"No!"
"Shall we shag now, or shag later?"
"We'll shag never, Zabini! Will you just listen to reason?"
He put a hand to his ear. "I'm listening. Hmm. All I hear is a voice saying, 'Shag, shag, shag, shag, shag, wonderful shag—'"
"Zabini! I'm a fugitive on the run from the law and the Ministry is after me right now because of Draco Malfoy!" burst out Ginny. "Just let me in."
", why didn't you say so in the first place?" Blaise swung the door wide.
"Thanks." Ginny darted in, standing on the threshold and looking about a bit suspiciously. "What was that about all the shagging, though?"
He laughed. "Just taking the mickey out of you a bit, Gin-gin. Care for some espresso?"
"So," said Blaise a few minutes later, when they were both seated at his kitchen table with cups of espresso. "Care to elaborate on what brings you to see the Great Zabini on such a lovely Sunday afternoon, when everyone should be either asleep or shagging? I mean, everyone should be shagging me, of course, but because there's only so much of me to go around, you'll all have to share. You'd be first in line, of course, because you're already here."
"I thought you were going to drop it about the shagging," said Ginny.
"I can't," admitted Blaise. "I'm constitutionally unable to not talk about it. I've tried therapy."
"Right," said Ginny. "Well…" She turned the little cup round and round in her hands, wondering exactly where to begin. She also rather wondered if she'd been gripped by temporary insanity to enter Blaise Zabini's lair in the first place, no matter what sort of desperation drove her. It was hard to tell where to put the cup down, because the surface of the table was carved to resemble a naked woman, and Ginny was seated just above the nipples. The ceiling above the table was mirrored, which seemed rather pointless, she thought, because she couldn't imagine anyone wanting to actually lie naked on the knobbly surface. It wasn't just the woman, either, as she'd thought at first; there was also a man, and there was another woman, and another man, oh, it was an entire orgy, and was that actually a goat? Ginny looked away from the table, sneaked a peek at Blaise's bedroom through the half-open door, and groaned inwardly. Sure enough, red shag carpet, a heart-shaped bed, and black velvet paintings on the walls. Was that a stripper pole? And now he'd caught her looking!
"Yes," he said.
"Yes what?"
"Yes to whatever you're wondering. Yes, it revolves. Yes, it vibrates. Yes, it glows in the dark. Yes, a full ninety-eight point nine percent of my partners have told me those odd tickly rubbery bits feel amazing when they're firmly rubbed against—"
Clearly, it was time to take the entire situation in hand. "Blaise, did Malfoy ever tell you about the time I cast the Bat-Bogey hex on him at the end of my fifth year?"
"Y…yes," Blaise said rather cautiously.
"And did you know that it can also be cast on rather intimate areas of one's person?"
"No…"
"Well, now you do," Ginny said sweetly.
Blaise gulped. "All right, then. How about if we get right to the explanation?"
"The Ministry is investigating Malfoy again," said Ginny. "Actually, they never really stopped."
"I was afraid of that, but I can't say I'm surprised. He ought to just pay a visit to old Beneficium at the Wizengamot, drop a nice big bribe on the floor, say oops, bend over to get it whilst wearing those really, really tight dragon-hide trousers, and then—"
"It's a lot worse than that. The investigation's being run by the Department of Mysteries, and supposedly, they found out that there was some sort of…" Ginny hesitated. Blaise had always held himself aloof from anything resembling Death Eater activity at Hogwarts, and his family had been completely cleared of involvement with Voldemort. She'd just have to trust him. "Well, they're not really sure what," she finished rather lamely, "but some kind of former Death Eater activity around the Malfoy estate in Dorset, near Lyme Regis. They're convinced Draco Malfoy had something to do with it. They think he was there. And I don't see how he could have been, Blaise." Ginny handed him the Daily Prophet. "I suppose you haven't seen this yet."
"No, of course not, I was asleep, as any sane person should be on a Sunday afternoon. What could possibly be so very interesting- oh." A huge grin spread across Blaise's face. "Hands off it is, then. Draco and I have a very strict policy when it comes to each other's girls. And boys, except that where he's concerned, of course, he couldn't care less about my boys, and he doesn't have any boys. So now that you're his girlfriend—"
"I am not his girlfriend!"
"Funny, that's not what Draco's photograph just told me," said Blaise. "Also, if you don't want to give that impression, Ginny, you might want to tell your photograph to not moan quite so loudly as he plays with your breasts. Very nice. 38C, I'm guessing? Just as a sort of scientific observation, of course. Mmm, let me see…" He leaned closer in towards the paper. A tiny black and white hand flashed out and punched him in the nose. "Ow!" He winced. "He was bloody serious. Mate, I promise, I won't touch her. You've got a wicked right jab even when you're only three inches tall."
Ginny blushed. He pushed the paper back at her. "Gin, I see your point, of course. Draco couldn't have been gallivanting around Lyme with Death Eaters through the wee hours if he was feeling you up against his Mercedes. The Ministry's got no case." Blaise shook his head. "Who's mad enough to dream up that sort of shite anyway?"
"Somebody new is running the case now," sighed Ginny.
"Do tell."
"Harry Potter."
Blaise gave a long, low whistle. "Your ex, of course. Shite. Ginny, the Department of Mysteries is never going to get off of Draco's perfect arse again as long as he lives, or Potter does. How about if we arrange an accident?"
"It's very tempting," said Ginny. "But Blaise, it's still even worse than you think. Harry's working with Hermione Granger now, so he's actually got some brains behind him—"
"They were always behind him, seeing as how they were always in his arse," said Blaise.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. She's the one coming up with all the plans to try to get Malfoy."
"This doesn't sound good," said Blaise. "Is Draco in any additional trouble I don't know about yet?"
"Loads," Ginny said grimly, and she told him.
By the end, Blaise's eyebrows were hitting his hairline. "Let me get this straight," he said shakily. "The Department of Mysteries, Imperius tests, Potter, the Chosen One, half of the wizarding world's got their heads so far up his arse they'll never be able to pull them out again—oh, and is it true what I've heard about the size of his Quidditch set, by the way?"
Ginny thought about this for a second. Did she really hate Harry this much by now? "Blaise, can you keep a secret?"
"No."
"Then I'm not going to tell you."
"That's all you had to say. Anyway, to go on with the list…Potter and Granger between them may not have everybody believing them now, but they will, so the power of the Ministry will be on their side and against Draco, they'd love to start a vicious smear campaign, they'll probably manufacture evidence if they don't find any, they're going to try to railroad him into Azkaban and round up a stray Dementor to suck out his soul and turn him into one of the legion of the undead, and you know what they all say that does to your tennis game. And worst of all— splergh!"
A large barn owl with barred wings flew directly into Blaise's face. Ginny's heart sank. She recognized it as Splenda, the new Weasley owl. With a self-important look, it fluttered back slightly and extended one claw to Ginny. A blood-red letter was in it.
"Fuck," she muttered. "This is not good."
"You're telling me. I just spent five galleons on my custom eyebrow wax and that bloody owl ruined the job completely!" spluttered Blaise.
"Sorry." Ginny steeled herself and opened the envelope.
'GINEVRA WEASLEY!" the Howler trumpeted. "I hope you're proud of yourself, that's all I can say! I just hope you're satisfied. I will never be able to hold my head up in front of any of neighbors ever again, as long as I live, now that everyone knows you've been prancing about London, behaving like a wanton tart! Margaret Murgatroyd was very quick to show me the Daily Prophet this afternoon, and I have never been so embarrassed in all my life as I was by that story about you and that horrible Draco Malfoy. But your whorish behavior is the least of the problem, Ginevra."
Ginny closed her eyes briefly. Whorish behavior! And Mum called me 'Ginevra' twice! Oh, this is bad,this is really bad.
"Harry and Hermione were kind enough to tell me all about the Ministry investigation into Malfoy's activities, and while they tried not to distress me with the full story of your lack of cooperation, I could read between the lines well enough. Are you turning your back on all the values we've ever taught you so that you can gallivant about with criminals and former Death Eaters who may be turning to their old ways again? Did we raise you to abandon all shame? Do you want to break your mother's heart? And…" The screechy voice caught. "Hermione's told me a few other things as well. Ginny, please don't be so very foolish. I don't know what's gone on between you and Malfoy, and I don't wish to know, but he's engaged to marry Astoria Greengrass."
The Howler's tone softened even more. "Harry's so very sad over the way you've treated him, but he'll forgive you if you only start to act decently, Ginny. Go and apologize to him, and tell him everything you know about Malfoy. Then come home and stay for a nice long visit. We do miss you so. I worry about you in the city, heaven knows, and I suppose I've always known that something as dreadful as this would happen. But I'm always your dear Mum, and if you'll just come to your senses, this entire thing will be forgotten."
Ginny stared at the letter as it sizzled to ash. "What were you going to say, Blaise?'
"Er—that was rather loud, wasn't it?" Blaise asked awkwardly. "Wouldn't you like some more espresso? How about—"
"Just tell me."
Blaise cleared his throat. "I was going to say that on top of everything else, Draco managed to get Astoria Greengrass royally brassed off at him. She's an unholy bitch."
"Is it true?" asked Ginny, still staring at the ashes of the Howler. "Was he really engaged to her?"
"It's a bit complicated—"
"Just tell me."
"Yes. Yes, he has been. Was. I really don't know. For over a year." He looked at her shrewdly. "Maybe it's good that you know, Ginny. My best mate's got himself in a world of trouble, but there's something that I don't think has occurred to you, and it's that you have, too. You're a witness, so the Ministry did have the right to force you to take that test, and you escaped from them. You Stunned an official and left her lying on the floor—yes, I know it was only Luna Lovegood, but still. If you do anything to help Draco, they might even be able to get you for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal. You need to decide just how deep you want to get in here."
"Look, I have to warn Malfoy—" said Ginny.
"But you could send him an owl. There are untraceable ways to do it."
"All right, I have to find out what's really going on," she admitted.
"You could give up on that. On needing to know."
Ginny laughed. "No, I can't. I've never been able to do that."
"Even if it hurts you?" Blaise looked at her with unexpectedly serious eyes. "And even if you don't know what you really mean to him? Because I can't tell you the answer to that question, Gin. I've been his best mate since we were both three years old, but I don't know him well enough to tell you that. Nobody does."
"I suppose that giving up is what you're going to do," snapped Ginny.
"No," said Blaise. "We're best mates. I'll find a way. But think about what you want to risk for him, Ginny. Don't just go off on a hair-trigger. Really think. What the hell's that?" He frowned at the tap on a living room window. "Just a minute, Gin."
Ginny was left staring at an empty cup of espresso grounds next to the copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. Photograph-Ginny was sitting in the back seat of the shiny black Mercedes now, crooking her finger at photograph-Draco. He was climbing in with a smile; not a smirk, Ginny thought, but a real smile. Now he was putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back, almost laying her out underneath him on the back seat. The extremely large back seat. He'd clearly used some sort of charm on it, because it had turned into a kind of roomy low bed with space for a mini-bar and little glowing witchlights stuck into the walls. In fact, it was almost the size of a small hotel room. Now he was closing the car door on her!
"What are you doing?" demanded Ginny.
You can't come in, said photograph-Ginny.
No, you can't. I'm not the least bit interested in a threesome, real-Ginny, said photograph-Draco, even though it's you. Oh, I know they're supposed to be every man's dream, and I went through a bit of a phase when I was nineteen years old, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything, but I really don't care for them. He kissed photograph-Ginny. All I want is you.
Mm, Draco… moaned photograph-Ginny. She raised her little head. So it's really none of your business, she told Ginny.
"It's very much my business! Draco's about to have sex with you- with me, I mean!"
No, Draco's going to have sex with bme/b, said photograph-Ginny, putting an arm round photograph-Draco.
"But you are me—oh, this is the most surreal conversation I've ever had," groaned Ginny.
Could you two Ginnys get on with it? called photograph-Draco. This isn't exactly my idea of foreplay.
"This doesn't make any sense," said Ginny. "Does it somehow mean that I actually did have sex with the real Draco in the backseat of his Mercedes last night after all?"
No, it most certainly does not, said photograph-Draco, sounding insulted. I may be ruthless and cunning and less than completely honest at times, real-Ginny, but I'd never do that to anyone, much less you. You were drunk off your beautiful arse. You wouldn't have even known what was going on, and you couldn't have begun to appreciate my amazing skills. He kissed photograph-Ginny. Now you, on the other hand…
"Oh, then what about her? Isn't she drunk as well?" She glared at photograph-Ginny, who was throwing her head back and making little noises of pleasure as Draco nibbled on her neck.
Wizarding photographs can't get drunk. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Do I ever, said photograph-Ginny, winking. And I can't wait to do it.
"I'm sure you can't, you slag," snapped Ginny.
Photograph-Ginny looked very hurt. That's not true. I'm a virgin, because you are, she said. So this will be my first time. Because it would have been yours, too.
"You mean that my photograph can break the no-sex curse, but I can't?" gasped Ginny.
You're perfectly aware that that's hardly the truth, either, said photograph-Draco. You certainly can. Photograph-Ginny has made her choice, and you're just as free to make yours.
Ginny shook her head, blinking back sudden, fierce tears. "It's not like that. It's not that simple. It's not as if you know… unless… do you know, somehow?"
Photograph-Draco shrugged. I'm not a Magic-8 Ball. I was always dreadful at Divination. But you're going to see a lot of strange things coming up in your near future, Ginny Weasley.
"You do know something, then!"
Let's just say that it's amazing how much wizarding photographs know, photograph-Draco said evasively. Also paintings… statues… mosaics… drawings… portraits of authors on the dust jackets of books, even. Portraits more than anything else, though. We can't lie, Ginny. No Immortal can lie, and all images are immortal. You're an artist. You know that. You really ought to go to Florence and sign up for a private witches' showing of the Sistine Chapel someday; Adam and Eve have loads of dirt to dish about God. Why do you think all of Michelangelo's paintings always have such strategically placed folds of drapery?
"But then that means that you can't lie," said Ginny excitedly. "What does real-Draco actually think about Astoria Greengrass, or what does he feel, I suppose- what does she mean to him? And what about Marie? He said the name 'Marie'. I heard him, that night when I—" She blushed. "Well, never mind about that."
I know exactly what you did that night in that cottage, said photograph-Draco, smirking. I have all of real-Draco's memories, remember?
"Oh, dear gods," groaned Ginny. "Anyway, you've got to answer me, you've just got to. I have to know. Who's Marie? Is she connected with Astoria somehow? Is 'Marie' some sort of nickname for her? Does he love Astoria? I mean, I can't believe he does, but—and me, what about me?" The last question came out in a rush, the insane, impossible question, the one that she knew she would never, ever have asked the real Draco. Could never ask. "What does Draco feel for me?" she blurted.
But the photograph-Draco was already shaking his head. It's not going to be that easy, real-Ginny, he said.
"You said you couldn't lie! You have to tell me."
No, I don't, said photograph-Draco. I can't lie, but I am still Draco Malfoy, and all I can say is what he could and would have said to you, real-Ginny. And no matter how much he might want to, he couldn't answer the question you just asked. Not to mention that no Malfoy anywhere has ever been able to tell the complete truth.
Ginny let out a long sigh. "I think I knew all that," she admitted. "But I still want to find him. I'm on the run from the Ministry, after all; I might as well make it worth my while. All right—if you're somehow really Draco, where do you think he'd be?"
You say that I told you to wait for me?
Ginny nodded.
And it was right after Potter dared to lay hands on you? He scowled.
Photograph-Ginny hugged him. I'll bet he let go pretty fast.
"Oh, he did," said Ginny.
Photograph-Draco grinned. I suppose that I became all dark and broody and mysterious and lethal-looking. Dead-sexy, wasn't I?
"Yes," Ginny confessed. "But you almost frightened me a bit. You certainly did everyone else."
Not you, said photograph-Draco, speaking to her, holding and kissing photograph-Ginny. Never you. Then he put his head on one side, considering. I can't be sure exactly where I'd go. But if I expected you to have some idea of what I was talking about, it would have to be someplace that I knew the Ministry couldn't find, but that you'd have to figure out if you thought about long enough. My best guess is a place that's magically shielded in some way.
"I can't think of anywhere like that," said Ginny.
Perhaps someplace connected with an institution that hides things, Ginny, and keeps them safe, said photograph-Draco. I can't make it too easy for you, remember? He winked at her. Keep thinking. It'll come to you. But get there quick, because even though the Aurors can't get in, they might still surround it. Now I have one more thing to tell you. Lean down. Come very close.
Ginny brought her face almost to the paper, then gasped in surprise. Photograph-Draco had jumped up and given her a tiny, passionate kiss. She touched her lips. They throbbed with newsprint.
"What did you do that for?" she asked, astonished.
I had to find out what it was like to kiss you. Rather overwhelming, but I find that I don't envy real-Draco. I've got my own girl, and she's waiting for me. You're going to find your own Draco, real-Ginny. If you search for him hard enough, you'll find him, and he'll find you.
Goodbye, said photograph-Ginny , waving as she rolled up a window.
"Have a nice time," said Ginny stiffly.
Oh, I will. I'm quite, quire sure that I'm about to have really astonishing sex with Draco Malfoy, preceded by loads of delicious foreplay.
You will, murmured photograph-Draco's voice from behind her. I promise at least fifteen orgasms that will make you see the entire pantheon of forgotten Norwegian gods of Valhalla.
Oh, I'm bso/b glad that things didn't work out with Michael or Colin or Blaise, said Ginny, leaning back so that he could caress her neck and shoulders.
"So am I," admitted Ginny. "Er… have you had a chance to actually see what's under those evil trousers of his yet? Only I can't help wondering if my guesses were accurate."
No, but even when he's three inches high, the proportions seem as if they're going to be rather bloody amazing , said Ginny, shuddering voluptuously. I can't wait.
Neither can I. But I have to, and she doesn't! I'll be waiting forever, for all I know. Ginny's friendly feelings for her photographed self died considerably. "Good for you," she snapped. "But if that's all you want, then why don't you just go and work as a companion at the Crystal Palace? I certainly never knew I had the potential to be such a whore."
That's not fair, and you know it, photograph-Ginny said softly. Ginny, if you want real-Draco, you can have him as well. Not just the sex, but everything, everything that he has, everything that he is. Just trust him. Believe in him. Take the risk. That's what I did. I'll never regret it. Neither will you.
"Wait," exclaimed Ginny. "How do you know? You can't be sure. You just can't. Hold on, you've got to explain—"
The little car door slammed. The Mercedes zoomed off, out of the picture.
"'Trust Draco Malfoy'," muttered Ginny. "That's all very easy to say when you're a two-dimensional photograph!" And, her unruly, aching heart added, when he's all alone with you, in your arms, and there doesn't seem to be anyone else in the world. That doesn't really seem to be the situation just now, does it?
No, decided Ginny, it didn't. Especially not when Luna was hurtling in through the window and crashing into Blaise's arms, and they were both toppling over backwards across the living room floor.
"Er… how about a nice shag, Lovegood?" Blaise asked rather feebly, in a shell-shocked sort of way.
"Not right this moment, I don't think," Luna said matter-of-factly, "but later, perhaps. Maybe for hours and hours and hours. What an interesting cabinet that is. I've never seen examples of latex molded into so very many shapes. Were they all molded directly from life? It looks like those were all from your penis, Blaise. It's a very nice one. I did get a peek once during sixth year when the door to the Slytherin changing rooms wasn't entirely closed, and I just happened to be strolling by at the time."
"A girl after my own heart," said Blaise, dusting himself off and offering a hand to Luna.
"Thanks awfully," said Luna, scrambling up. "By the way, I thought I'd just come and tell both of you that a team of crack Aurors from the Department of Mysteries is on its way in search of Draco Malfoy, and that they may very well be licensed to kill, or at least to do all sorts of un-nice things. You might want to step out for coffee or something similar." She beamed at them both. "Aren't you glad that they fired me, so that I can come and tell you all that?"
Next chapter: Guess who we're going to see again? Could it be...