Author's Notes: Okay, first off, brownie points to my personal Golden Trio for all your great input and edits. Much obliged, as always. Now for the rest of you readers, the only thing I'll say about this chapter is that it is the first one where I have absolutely no idea how anyone is going to react to it and that freaks me out and fires me up in equal measure. Either way, please drop me a line and let me know. Enjoy!
The Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks
"Miss Weasley? Miss Weasley, are you alright?"
Without looking towards the pesky voice, Ginny shut her eyes and gave herself a smart slap to her cheek, ignoring the gasp in her left ear. When she blinked again, the headline of the newspaper was unchanged: Lionel's carefree smirk and a calculated wink looked back at her from the page.
Why? Why aren't I awake yet? What kind of nightmare is this? Ginny thought desperately, unable to ignore the sting in her cheek. This…This isn't happening.
"Miss Weasley, do you need to sit down? You look like you've seen a ghost."
No, not a ghost. Just the vile man who fathered her child. A man who had made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with Ginny or her son, going as far to blackmail her into keeping his identity a secret from the world, including her own family and friends.
He had taken such pains to sever his ties to the baby. Lionel was a man of immense wealth and prominence and he had used that to his advantage, trapping Ginny into signing that blasted contract that exempted him from all legal and financial obligations. Not that Ginny would have wanted him involved in any way. When Lionel had shown his true colors, Ginny was grateful in a way that the piece of parchment she signed assured that Lionel would have no influence on her boy, no way to taint the Snitch with the cold venom that ran through his veins; there had been nothing about Lionel's demeanor in New York, as she sat across from him putting her signature on the contract, which had left any inkling of doubt that he had been serious when he said he didn't want to be anyone's father.
Except that now, apparently, he had changed his bloody mind.
That monster! What is he playing at? He can't do this!
"Ah, if it isn't our newest star," the nasally voice of Wilhelmina Rutherford came from behind Ginny. She turned, still clutching the newspaper in her hands, to see the assistant editor of the newspaper walking towards her, wearing six-inch high heels and an alarming amount of glittery make-up for someone was not a twelve years old girl. The wings of the lavender butterfly hair clips fluttered a small breeze through her springy blonde curls. Without looking to anyone else in the room, Wilhelmina took Ginny's slack face in her hands and gave both cheeks an airy kiss. "How wonderful to see you out and about! Do you know that there were these nasty rumors that you had actually died at that Christmas ball, and that your body was being kept hidden while your distraught parents were trying to bring you back to life? Oh, the scoundrels we have in this fair business of ours."
"What…?" Ginny fumbled, distracted by both the paper she was holding and the ungodly amount of perfume now assaulting her senses, the scent lingering on her maroon jumper and black linen pants.
"Now I have strict orders from Barney Cuffe himself that we are to take excellent care of you while you prepare your scintillating articles for us. He's on holiday, you see, and I am responsible for all…Oh dear!" Wilhelmina glanced down at the day's morning edition in Ginny's shaking hands. Her lips pursed in a pout. "That must have been the last thing you expected to see today, wasn't it? Let's go into my office for a spot of tea. Sort the whole thing out between us girls?"
Under the watchful gazes of the employees of the Prophet, Ginny let herself be lead into Wilhelmina's office, a veritable shrine to flowers and femininity; even the fabric of the armchair Ginny sank into was lilac and dotted with roses. The air was a suffocating mix of several potpourris, making it difficult to breathe. She put her hand to her chest, wincing at the tenderness of her bosom.
Her thoughts immediately came to a screeching halt. "I…I can't stay," Ginny said. Whatever Lionel's agenda, it involved the baby. The unyielding urge to protect her child that had been hampered by her shock dissipated at once and she shot up from the chair, driven by the urge to feel her child nestled safely in her arms. "I have to go."
"But we haven't even had our tea yet," Wilhelmina bemoaned.
"I'll reschedule my meeting."
"There's a wonderful trick in my family for the perfect cup of tea."
"Wilhelmina, I really can't do this now."
"The secret is-"
"I don't give a flying fuck about tea!" Ginny shouted, her control finally snapping. "I don't care about this paper or you or anything else in this bleeding world! I just need to get home to my son!"
Instead of recoiling at Ginny's outburst, Wilhelmina only snickered from behind her desk, twirling a quill in her hand and leaning back in her chair. "Mr. Dresden did say you had quite a temper. I didn't think it would take this long to come out, though, given your reputation."
Blinking, Ginny glanced at the byline of the article in her hand:
Wilhelmina Rutherford
Assistant Editor
"This was your interview?" Ginny asked, stunned. "You put this out for the whole world to see? W-Why?"
"Because," Wilhelmina shrugged, "when one of the most powerful, wealthiest, and dare I say sexiest wizards in the world Floos and offers you an exclusive interview on the story of the year—that would be your filthy offspring, by the way—you don't quibble with questions of morality or decency. You Apparate your behind to wherever he says with a Quick-Quills Quote and a smile." She propped her shapely legs onto the desk, beaming in triumph.
Ginny raged inside at the revolting woman's references to her son. This pathetic excuse for a witch was endangering her son's welfare for…for what? A headline? A chance to be in the same room as Lionel? A rise in ranks at the paper? At the rate she was going, all Willie was going to get was a Killing Curse straight between her eyes, courtesy of the mother she was antagonizing.
"I have no idea," Ginny ground out, laying both hands on the desk and leaning in, "what on Earth you're getting out of this, but-"
"Revenge," Wilhelmina cut in.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." The grin slipped off Wilhelmina's face as she stood level with Ginny, towering slightly in her shoes. She picked up a photograph from the desk and smiled down at it. "It took some time and little luck to pull off, considering how you have Barnabas Cuffe wrapped around your pinky, but once he left me in charge of this fine publication, I finally did to you what you did to my best friend: I ruined your life for all the public to see." Turning the frame around, Ginny saw two teenage girls in matching Hogwart's uniforms. One was a younger Wilhelmina, and though she had never met the other in person, Ginny knew who she was.
"Pressley Edgecombe," she murmured to herself.
"Yes, Pressley Edgecombe. I'm grateful you know her name, given all you did to destroy her. Just a few hours after your little call-in to Beeter's Breakdown, she was without a job. Eight years of hard work-"
"Probably spent on her back," Ginny spat out, seeing red.
"-washed down the drain because a fat, useless former Quidditch player got bored and decided to be cute on the radio," Wilhelmina continued unabated. "She was besieged all the time: death threats, Howlers, rotten vegetables thrown at her when she walked down the street. There was no other paper that would dare hire the witch precious Ginny Weasley had branded Undesirable Number One. Her money is all but gone. She's been sacked out on my sofa since she lost her apartment. All the poor dear ever talks about nowadays around a glass of Firewhiskey is how much she hates you." Wilhelmina smiled smugly. "Press is my dearest friend in the world. I heard her plea, and I did what needed to be done." Her blonde curls started shaking as she succumbed to laughter. "With Dresden's money, if he so desired, he could probably buy off any judge in the world to make sure you never see your little bastard again."
Ginny was grateful she was born among so many children for many reasons, but never more so than at that precise moment because of the valuable lesson she learned from them as a small girl:
If you're going to wear your hair long, you better be prepared to defend it against all attacks.
The esteemed Ms. Rutherford apparently didn't have any siblings.
Ginny's hand shot out and grasped a handful of Wilhelmina's hair, tugging her forward until she was almost laying across the desk, her shrieks echoing throughout the walls. Ginny quickly cast a Silencing Charm on the room to avoid unwanted attention.
"Listen to me and listen to me carefully, you bitch," Ginny hissed over the other witch's whimpering. "After the Battle of Hogwarts—a fight I don't recall seeing you at—I saw the wizard who killed my brother lying on a cot in the courtyard outside. He was injured and wrapped in chains to prevent his escape. The guards watching him had their backs to me. Every part of me screamed out to take my wand and inflict on him the same punishment that Fred had received. But I couldn't do it. You see, I was only a girl then. Even though I loved my brother so much, and even though I had just fought in a war and watched men and women die, I still had some of my innocence left. Enough that made killing someone in cold blood too horrific to imagine." Ginny yanked harder until Wilhelmina's ear was at her lips. "I am not that innocent anymore. Especially when it involves my son."
"Please! Please don't!" The frightened woman croaked out. "I-I'm so…sorry! Please let me…AH!" Ginny shoved her back harshly. Wilhelmina fell to floor and Ginny rounded the desk to loom over her.
"Where. Is. Lionel?" Ginny asked, hovering over the trembling mass of purple and tear-stained glitter. "Tell me where to find him."
"H-He was in Geneva. Switzerland. Some kind of…of conference. Said he'd be there through the week."
The Trolleri, Ginny instantly thought, straightening up. That's the hotel where he always stayed.
"He found me, contacted me. I had no idea he was your son's fath-"
Ginny smacked the side of the desk with all her might and Wilhelmina jumped, cowering further into a ball. The ache ran up from Ginny's hand all the way to her shoulder. "Don't call him that," she said, trying to collect herself and glaring down at Wilhelmina. "If I ever see you again, it will not end well for you." Ginny closed her eyes and focused on the lobby of the Swiss hotel.
It was still early when she arrived at the Trolleri, not even nine in the morning. The richly lush lobby, with its navy carpeting and dark wood-paneled walls lined with moving oil paintings, was nearly empty as Ginny made her way up to the front desk. The clerk looked down past his wire-rimmed glasses and raised an eyebrow to her disheveled appearance and lack of expensive clothes or jewelry.
"How can I help you?" It seemed a struggle for him to hold back a sneer. "Are you in need of directions somewhere? I'm afraid we do not sell maps of any kind."
Ginny paid no mind to the man. She had no time for such things. "I need to speak with a guest here, Lionel Dresden. Please tell him…tell him that Ginevra Weasley needs to speak with him at once."
The clerk shook his head at her. "There is no guest here by that name, and from the latest reports, the real Ginevra Weasley was lying on a beach somewhere in Crete, avoiding the public as much as humanly possible." He turned away to shuffle a pile of useless papers, putting his back to her.
Ginny wracked her brain to think of some of Lionel's old aliases that he had used when staying at the hotels where they would rendezvous, some way to let the man understand that she actually know who Lionel was and wasn't trying to just get a Portkey up to his room. "Then try Bill Sikes."
"No."
"Robert Lovelace."
"No."
"Claudius Iago."
"No."
"Moriarty James."
He finally turned around, a scowl of irritation "Miss, I do not know nor do I care who you really are. All I know is that you are standing in the lobby of this fine establishment and upsetting my delicate sensibilities with whatever ghastly brew of fragrance you are wearing. Now, if you would please-"
"Papa, look! It's Ginny Weasley!" The excited burst from the doorway distracted them, and they both looked to see a little girl in pigtails being ushered quickly out of the hotel by her father, a copy of The Daily Prophet tucked under his arm. "She throws the Quaffle ball in the hoops…" The girl's voice trailed awayout into the crisp Swiss morning, leaving Ginny and the clerk staring each other down once more.
It was almost admirable the way the man was able to hold himself together in the face of being humiliated by a five year-old. A slight tremor in his hand as he raised his wand was his only concession of defeat. The wispy figure of a mink emerged from the wand and darted straight through the ceiling above.
It only took a moment for Lionel to respond. The familiar sight of his Patronous, a shark, came down promptly. "Send her up," his Southern drawl commanded.
The clerk immediately handed her a Portkey. "Mr. Aaron Moor is staying on the top floor," he told her with as much dignity as he could muster. "Penthouse suite. Will you be needing anything else, miss?"
"No," Ginny said, snatching the key. It was true enough; she didn't need anything from this man.
Upon her arrival, she hardly felt the dizziness and confusion that typically accompanied this type of travel. Her thoughts were only on her child and what the man on the other side of the door wanted with him. He made no bones about his desire to cast aside the Snitch when Ginny was barely pregnant; what did he gain besides more fame and notoriety (which he had an abundance of) by coming forward?
Did he have some sort of hidden gift of Sight? Did Lionel know that everything in Ginny's world was finally coming together so he decided to turn it upside down and sideways? Did he know what a delight from above it was to her to watch her little boy kick out his little arms and legs in the excitement of an upcoming feeding? Did he somehow see how much she could laugh at the nonsense of her friends at the Falcon? Did he hear her heartbeat quicken whenever Harry took her hand and…?
Ginny swallowed and slumped against the wall next to the door. Surely, Harry would have seen the morning's paper by now. He had been standing in the kitchen with the baby on his shoulder as he prepared a cup of tea, watching and yawning as she ran all over the house, trying to be ready for an eight-thirty meeting when she had woken up at eight-ten. The last image she had of him as she turned to Apparate had been of him easing the baby into the bouncy seat on the kitchen counter, pretending to bite off the Snitch's feet. Now that he had smiled for the first time, Harry was determined to get a laugh out of him. The paper may have even been flying into the house by owl post as she left; he may have opened it the second she vanished. And even if he hadn't read the Prophet this morning, what were the odds that Ron or Bart or anyone else hadn't informed him of it straightaway?
Harry would know she had lied to his face; that she had spent all these months with him and deceived him after he had asked her outright more than a few times if Lionel was her baby's father. Every denial had been for Harry's benefit, for his safety and his happiness. It made the transgressions livable in Ginny's eyes, but she couldn't know if he'd see it the same way when she tried to explain it to him.
If he even let her to begin with. Maybe he'd found someone to mind the baby and had already left. He could be a world or two away from Hastom at this very moment, burrowed deep in some secret Auror hidey-hole. And in the darkest, gloomiest part of her mind she imagined that maybe before he left, he had stopped in his study and picked up the Persem diamond ring hidden in his desk drawer, intent on seeking the forgiveness of the woman it had been meant for. Meredith would probably welcome him back with open arms with the specter of Ginny firmly eradicated from his heart and mind. The two of them could…
She was nearly sick right there on the spot. How very much she wanted to go back to Hastom and take Harry's face in her hands, to make him understand all that she had done, every lie she had told was out of love for him. But she couldn't.
The baby, Ginny thought, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He comes before Harry now. You have to protect him first or none of the rest matters.
Locking her fear down as deep as she could, she lifted her hand to knock only to have the door open from the other side. A dark-skinned woman with grey eyes was bunching up her hair into a knot. Her blue dress clung tightly to her thin figure, ending high above her knees and cut low down to almost her navel. She smiled politely at Ginny, who only stared in surprise.
"Come on in. He's just cleaning himself up," she told Ginny. Grabbing a clutch purse from the side table, she squeezed past Ginny in the doorway, seamlessly taking the Portkey for herself. "There's a breakfast cart if you're hungry. He said to help yourself to anything."
"Where are you…? Should I tell him…?"
"Don't worry on it. Just tell him my boss will send him the bill later today." The Portkey activated and Ginny was just left fuming with anger. If Lionel thought a greeting from his "guest" was enough to flummox her, then maybe he didn't know her as well.
Maybe she stood a fighting chance against whatever was coming her way.
Lionel kept her waiting. It was a game. He liked his games. He wanted to see how long it would take to her to lose control. She wouldn't stoop to his level, though. Not yet. Not until she knew what he was truly after. Ginny took the time to pace around the spacious living area of the suite. Much like his apartment in London, this room was a mixture of dark and light. Sharp black tables, chairs, and sofas set against a backdrop of brilliant beige. The room was all power and business, no semblance of warmth to be found anywhere.
His pictures were there, though. Lionel always traveled with a gallery full of pictures of himself to hang in the rooms. Much like Ginny never felt like a place was home without her Arcus Violets, Lionel never seemed to be comfortable in a hotel unless he was surrounded by his glory. He was everywhere across the walls: laughing with politicians, athletes, authors, and scores of famous wizards and witches.
All through her pacing, Ginny tried to keep her focus on the task at hand. She had to know what Lionel wanted with her son, and remain steadfastly logical as she sought the information. Getting emotional and angry would only to play into Lionel's hand, something she could not afford. This was maybe the most important moment of her son's life, the one where his future would trace back to its origins. She would not fail him. She would keep him safe, away from the man who she owed her child's very existence to. And with the anger churning and boiling as far below the surface as Ginny could manage, it occurred to her suddenly, with more than tremble of panic, that if protecting her baby involved the use of the Killing Curse…well, it would not be an issue today.
He came into the room behind her. She cocked her head in profile when she heard his footsteps on the parquet floor.
Focus. Stay focused. Don't let him rile you up. You have everything in the world to lose.
"Hello, sweetheart." His voice curdled her blood. She forced her body to turn and face him fully. He wore sweatpants and nothing else, save for a towel around his neck. His blonde hair was still wet from the shower and the water dripped down the well-defined valleys of his arms and chest. But it was his smile—the same smile that used to turn her brain off and melt her insides—that infuriated her the most.
STAY! FOCUSED!
"Do us a favor and call me by my proper name," she said in greeting. "I won't be treated as your pet any longer."
His smile only deepened and he walked to the breakfast cart, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I always liked that about you, the feistiness. Some redheads don't live up to their billing, but not you." He took a sip and winked. "Ginny."
She tried not to let it show how much she hated him, tried with every cell in her body. Nothing good could come of setting him off right out of the gate.
"Would you like anything to eat? I do hope that Mari told you that you were welcome to anything."
"She did. She also told me to tell you the bill for her services would arrive later," she replied, unable to keep the retort to herself.
Lionel only smiled around his coffee cup. "Well, it would be ungentlemanly of me to say anything except that she was worth every penny of it." He set down his cup and folded himself onto one of the sofas. "Kind of like you, I suppose."
Ginny followed his lead, sitting on the armchair opposite him, and reminding herself with every step she took that Lionel's murder was only the last of all possible last resorts. No need to jump the gun on it so early.
"As my money was useless in our…relationship," she said, "I'm sorry I can't say the same."
"That is true. Though if you think about it, you were the one that really came out the winner in this whole thing."
"How do you figure that?"
"Your bouncing baby boy, of course. Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. Our bouncing baby boy." He reached behind him to grab a bagel from the cart, eating it in pieces as he continued. "Does he have a name yet? My sources hadn't heard anything yet. If you're stuck, the Dresdens have many fine, proud names to choose from. We have Thaddeus, Marshall, Jackson. Jackson is my personal favorite; lots of nicknames to choose from with that one. Or we could follow family tradition and name him after his father."
"He doesn't have a name and he will most certainly not be taking it from anyone associated with you when he gets it." Her temper flared at the mere thought of anyone calling her little Snitch by the name Lionel.
"Now, now," Lionel placated. "No need to lose your cool just yet. We've got business to discuss and I imagine you have some questions for me."
"I do, actually. Most of them just start one way: Why? Why did you come forward? Why did you give that interview in my paper?"
"That was a nice touch, wasn't it? Shitting in your own backyard, so to speak. The reporter is a first-class moron, but the piece actually came out quite nice. 'I will work with everything inside me to build a life with Ginny and our child'. That was my favorite quote."
"We had a contract," Ginny said through clenched teeth. "You blackmailed me into signing away my right to name you my child's father in exchange for you never using the memories you stole from me against the people I loved!"
His hand barely moved from the back of the sofa and a few items flew in from the other room, landing in front of them on the coffee table. One of them was a rolled up parchment and the other was vial of swirling misty material, almost invisible. Lionel snatched them both up before she could move. He held up the parchment first.
"This," he began, "is the contract that you signed." He tossed it and she caught it with both hands, unfurling it as he kept talking. "Everything in there is accurate and all of the consequences for breaking it that we spoke of in New York hold true. Or would have. If you had bothered to read the fine print at the bottom."
Ginny instantly began scanning the document until her eyes caught the miniscule passage under the signature line that Lionel was referring to. Her heart hammered as she read:
All provisions of this agreement are hereby deemed unenforceable by law unless both parties and/or signatories of said agreement present themselves jointly before a member of the judicial branch of the North American Continental Magical Republic held in good standing to verify on the record the provisions of the agreement. Such presentation must be made no later than thirty days after signature or…
Ginny felt the useless paper flutter out of her hands to the floor. "It was all a lie."
"Essentially, yes."
"My family was never in any danger," she continued, dumbfounded. "You never could have hurt them if I told anyone you were the one that got me pregnant. I-I lied to everyone for nothing."
"Family…Family is a curious thing," Lionel mused. Ginny hardly heard him over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "They can bless you with unbelievable strength. Yours sure did. But they can also curse you with weakness. The more you love in this life, the more vulnerable you make yourself and you, Miss Weasley, have a lot of love in your life."
"Why did you even go to the trouble of drawing up the damn thing if it was nothing?"
"Because I needed a way, as full-proof way as possible, to guarantee your silence without actually doing anything. Your family and the people you're close are not ones that I was interested in making enemies of. They could have made my international work here in Europe and beyond very, very difficult if I was ever suspected of threatening you in any way. So to use them as my bargaining chip made the most sense. How could they hurt me if you were too afraid to go to them? Besides, if the thing had actually been filed, then some judge or a paper pusher with a pencil up his ass would have something they could use as a chip to cash in a favor from me; if I'm giving something away, I except to be paid with more than silence.
"It was still risky to have you so out in the open, though. Despite my best efforts, we'd been seen and photographed together. When you started to get fat, people would make assumptions. I just had to trust that you loved your family enough to let the whole world believe the worst of you if you were ever asked who the father was. But then you went ahead and answered my prayers." He drained the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. "Well, the prayers I would've said if I believed in them. Going off to Hastom…I didn't think you had it in you to face that place, let alone stay there. Especially when you found out who took up residence there a few years ago. You always seem to surprise me."
Ginny rubbed a hand over her face, trying to come to terms with the last few minutes; trying to comprehend that if she had just forced herself to read through a few more lines of that contract, this could have all been avoided, and the fact that the fear that had been settled deep in the pit of her belly for all those months had been for naught.
"All of this reasoning of yours," she spit out, "only tells me what a complete monster you are. It still doesn't answer why you came forward after all you did."
Lionel nodded in agreement. "Well, here's where the irony kicks in: family. The answer to your 'why' is family, specifically my mother, the redoubtable Angelique Bedford-Dresden. The finest witch Louisiana has ever produced and overjoyed to tears that her only child has blessed her with a grandson."
"How does she know…?" Ginny closed her eyes and answered her own question. "The Quidditch ball. All of the press afterwards."
"She was vacationing in Rome when you became the most famous mother in our world. Poor woman almost had a heart attack when she saw the pictures of you lying on that ballroom floor. We had been caught so many times in the press during our little affair that I had to tell her about you. About how in love I was with you and that even though it crushed me, you were so dedicated to your career that you didn't want to be confirmed as my great love. Too much of a hassle for you to be the witch who snared Lionel Dresden. Also, you were never really impressed by her status and didn't want to take the time to meet her. Boy, it really stuffed her goat to see how upset I was when you ended things with me." He chuckled to himself before sighing. "She's a crafty old bird, though. Instead of coming to me, she went to my people. They squealed like pigs at the slaughterhouse, whiney little cowards. Confirmed the timeline of our break-up happened before you conceived and that was all she wrote. She's been on me ever since to meet with you and get things squared away so she can start spoiling her grandbaby rotten. He's enrolled in preschool already in New Orleans and the nursery is just waiting for him."
Ginny's head shot up. "What are you talking about? Do you…Do you honestly think we would go with you anywhere?"
Lionel leaned forward and took the vial from the table, holding it in between his thumb and forefinger. "Now before we go any further, I have a proposition for you." Ginny scoffed and got up from the couch, hardly believing his words. "I know, I know. I must think you're two sandwiches shy of a picnic if I'm throwing that phrase out there again. But I don't, I truly don't and I'd like you to hear me out." Her silence was all she'd give him so he continued. "You marry me and you and our son come home with me to New Orleans. Your son wants for nothing for the rest of his life. You have every comfort known to Wizardry at your beck and call. My momma gets to shower her grandson with kisses and I get to brand myself as a family man. My marketing director tells me that it could quadruple my sales next quarter. Then, in six months or six years, whenever my mother shuffles off this mortal coil, we can quietly divorce. You never have anything to do with me again and you are paid very, very handsomely for as long as you live. In exchange for all that, I offer you this." He held up the vial for her inspection. She stopped short as she realized what it was:
Her memories.
"You can have these back. Your family can be safe and sound while we write our version of happily ever after. Personally, I think you come out of this deal looking pretty good, and we both know I'm not what is known as a generous negotiator." He gave the vial in his hand a tiny shake. "So what do you say?"
It surprised Ginny how easy the decision was, much like it had been in another hotel, only in New York. There was no hesitation then because there had been no choice. Just like now.
"If my family has to endure public humiliation, and perhaps even legal difficulties, to ensure that you never go near my son," she told Lionel, "then I'll have to hope my parents and my brothers can forgive me someday for being stupid enough to let you get as close to me as you did." Ginny pulled herself up to her full height, her words quiet but with the power of a forge fire behind them. "You will never know what my son looks like. You will never know his scent and you will never, ever lay a hand on him. I would rather let them brand a Dark Mark on me than have your wedding ring on my finger. Mark my words, if I have to, I will fight every hour of every day to keep you out of our lives."
Lionel raised his eyebrow when she was done. "That sounds definitive."
"Because it is. No deals this time."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I can't say that I'm truly shocked by your answer, but I am disappointed. I had at least hoped we could come to an understanding that suited both of our needs." Looking down at the small container, he shrugged his shoulders a little. "Oh well," he said and promptly tossed the vial straight at Ginny.
This catch she fumbled with. When the vial was eventually secured in her grasp, all she could do was blink at him. "What is this?" Ginny finally asked.
"Uh, your memories. Man, they are right. Women really do lose about twenty percent of their brain capacity when they give birth."
"But why…why would you give them back for nothing?" Taking no chances, she immediately placed the vial in her pocket. A horrible thought occurred to her. "You have copies, don't you? Hidden somewhere and ready to-"
"Memories, despite the best efforts of many wizards before me, cannot be duplicated. They can be sold, stolen, and screwed with seven ways from Sunday, but they cannot be copied. If you don't believe me—which I doubt you do—you can have it verified by someone you actually trust." Lionel stood and tossed the towel onto the couch, keeping several feet of distance between them. "They're more of a hindrance to me now than anything so they're yours."
Nothing about this seemed right. Lionel had just willingly given away his biggest card to play. That was as natural to him as fish living on land. Something else was going on.
"Why did you give them back to me?" Ginny asked him warily.
"Because, technically, what I did to you was a little less than legal. I needed to get rid of the evidence of it since I have to appear the most upright of citizens when I go to court to get sole custody of my son."
He could have been talking about the weather or a restaurant he had just eaten at. His tone, his posture, the look in his eyes—the life of Ginny's son meant next to nothing to him.
"You can't do that," Ginny heard herself say, amazed at the calmness of her voice considering the rage erupting inside her.
"Actually I can. My paternal rights, as we've discovered today, have never been severed. Any court in the land will tell you I have just as much right to be with our son as you do." Ginny bristled at him calling the Snitch their son. "And more often than not, when the mother is proved to be unfit or a danger to the child in any way, custody will be awarded to the child's father."
She laughed scornfully. "I dare you to go into any courtroom and try to prove I am unfit. I have been with that little boy every single day of his life and he is beautiful, healthy, and happy!" Her emotions began to creep up from her body, spewing out with her words. "I am a good mother!"
"That is something I have no doubt of," Lionel agreed gently, crossing his arms in front of him. "However, you are also a mother with a history of mental illness that required you to be under supervised care." Ginny gasped and stepped back, as if stung by his hand. "You have a history of harming yourself-"
"I have not…not in years, Lionel! I haven't thought that way in years!"
"-not to mention, your behavior has not always exactly been what one might call 'virginal' by our standards. How many men were there before me? After me? During your time with me?"
"And you, what about you? How many different ones this month? This week? I bet you have one booked for tonight already!"
"It won't matter what I've done. I have the money, sweetheart. Not the kind you're playing with now that you're a little star. The kind that employs tens of thousands of people. The kind that unlocks every door of every building of every country in the world. The kind makes a world leader or tears one down, whichever one I'm feeling like doing when I wake up in the morning. To put it in the simplest of terms for you, the kind of money that buys the power to do whatever the hell I want!" Lionel's face darkened until his eyes were almost back before he smiled maliciously, stalking her as she tried to step away. "All I'll have to do to win is walk into that courtroom with a clean suit, watching with a smile as my lawyer tears you to shreds. And just in case you were counting on your newfound citizenship to save you, think again. Hastom doesn't harbor criminals. If you're compelled by law to turn my son over to me, they won't stop it from happening." He grabbed her wrists and tugged her forward until she was pressed against his chest, too stunned to do anything but stare up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "My offer is still on the table. You chose to do things the hard way the last time we were at an impasse. That's just how you're molded. The hard way is your nature. But if you want to see your baby grow up, maybe you want to try things the easy way this time."
He shoved Ginny away and she stumbled back against the couch. Breathing heavily, her tears dried as soon as the thought that had been horrifying to her before today was the only thing she saw. Summoning every fiber of anger flowing through her veins as she stared up at Lionel and understanding her mother in a way she never had before, Ginny reached into her bag for her wand, prepared to go to the very edge of extreme to protect her child.
Except the wand wasn't there.
Her heart caught in her throat as she groped around through papers, loose Knuts, and make-up, but there was no wood in the bag.
"Mari nicked it from you on her way out." Lionel shook his head, unable to hide his snicker. "Figured you might lower yourself to violence. It's waiting for you at the front desk. That fruit bowl by the door is the spare Portkey, it'll take you down. You won't get back up here, though. My lawyers are filing in court as we speak so you should be getting some paperwork pretty soon. I don't think you'll have a problem paying for a lawyer with all of that bank you're making now." He held a hand up in goodbye and strode away. "If I don't hear from you about the proposal, I'll see you in court." She hadn't even managed to climb up from the floor when he spoke again. "Oh, and Ginny? I hope you and the dashing Mr. Potter don't have any notions of trying to hide my son from me because you won't be able to. All you'll do is piss me the hell off." With that, he disappeared back into his lair.
She didn't feel her legs when she could finally stand or the tears that flowed down her cheeks, though she tasted the salt on her lips. Sight she still had. It registered when she walked haltingly to the Portkey and glanced at the clock on the wall. It read just after ten-thirty.
Two hours. Two hours for my entire life to fall apart. That's a new record for me.
Even the first time she had entered Harry's house, she hadn't been this nervous. Back then, her biggest fear was seeing some photo or keepsake of Meredith's lying in plain view. Now as she walked up to the backdoor from the Apparition point, her fear was the unknown. She had no idea what she'd find in the house, or rather who. Maybe Harry was still there, maybe he had left. If he was gone, the Snitch was probably gone as well, being minded by someone. Ginny didn't know which idea caused her more unease. She needed both of them now, in equal measures, more than she ever had before.
The door creaked something awful as she opened it. Quietly and slowly, she made her way through the messy kitchen into the living room on tiptoes, afraid if she even took in too large a breath disaster would strike once more. What was left of her stomach dropped to the floor when she saw the copy of The Daily Prophet sitting haphazardly on the couch. She sank down next to it with a small whimper, more certain than ever that Harry had already left.
Well, she thought in misery, at least the last time I saw him he was happy.
The footsteps from the floor above startled her. With her retrieved wand raised, Ginny could only watch in awe as Harry descended down the stairs.
"Oh Godric, it's you," she moaned, a sense of hope filling her and rejuvenating her. He was still here. He hadn't vanished. Surely that meant…
"Why do you have your wand out?" Harry asked in a low voice.
There was no anger in his eyes, but there was no happiness in them either at the sight of her. Not like last night, or even this morning. There was nothing in them as he looked down at her, one hand gripping the banister so tightly, his knuckles were white.
Coldness swept over her once more as she put her wand on the table. "I-I was frightened. I didn't know if you were still here."
"I was just upstairs with the baby." He held up an empty bottle. "He got hungry and you weren't back yet."
"I…I had to go see Li-," Harry flinched. "Um, him. You fed the baby?" Ginny asked quickly to cover her stumble.
If he had been at all warring with his emotions, one had finally emerged victorious. His eyes narrowed to almost nothing behind his glasses and Ginny swore she saw the wooden bar he was holding start shaking.
"Did you think I wouldn't take care of a helpless child just because even thinking about his mother turns my stomach? My last name is not Dursley, Ginny." He set off down the stairs and headed to the kitchen.
With her heart collapsing inside her, Ginny knew it would be so easy to let him walk away. He had every right and reason to not want to listen to her voice after what he had learned about her. It would be easier for the coming fight ahead with Lionel if she wasn't distracted by anything, and the ever-changing nature of her relationship with Harry would definitely consume her time and her thoughts. It would be easier for all of them probably if she could let him go now. But Lionel had been right about one thing today:
Doing the hard thing was her nature. And if the hard thing was getting Harry to even look at her, then she wouldn't run away from it. Not after the promise of what the last two nights meant to her.
She didn't approach him straightaway when she stepped into the kitchen. Ginny made sure he could have his space. Already, bent over the sink and scrubbing something, Harry's back was rigid beneath his shirt.
"Please let me explain." He didn't acknowledge her, but he didn't Apparate away either. "I should have told you," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the water. "A million times I should have had the decency to tell you."
He turned the faucet off but kept his back to her. "So why didn't you? Why did I find out from a newspaper when we've seen each other almost every day for over six months?"
"Because Lionel took memories from me without my knowledge when we together. Terrible things about my brothers and…and about you from just after the war. About things your counselor had you tell me. The things you had nightmare about. H-He said he'd release them to the public if I ever told anyone that he was…" Harry hadn't moved an inch so she continued. "Nell was the only one who knew the truth and she was bound by oath not to say anything. I never thought L-Lionel would come forward. After I told him I was pregnant, he wanted me to have an abortion. When I didn't go through with it, he blackmailed me. In New York, right before I saw you. After that everything just got so out of hand, with moving to Hastom and starting over here. All I wanted was to forget about him. Just have my beautiful child and…and try to find my way with you again." Ginny inched forward, desperately needing some contact between them, until she was right behind him, close enough to hear his harsh breathing, and slowly raised her hand to touch his shoulder. "I never meant to hurt you. The only thing I wanted was to keep you from being vilified; I didn't care what happened to me. Harry, I am so sorry for-"
Harry whirled around, knocking a stack of dirty cups from the counter as he did. She jumped back in fright when she saw his face. The look he was giving her…Harry had been facing away from Ginny when he'd killed Voldemort so she hadn't seen what had probably been years of rage and torment fixed along his jaw and his eyes. But she was getting a taste of it now.
"You don't know what that word means!" Harry screamed at her, walking towards her. She backed up steadily into the living room as he kept pace. "You're supposed to stop doing the things you have to apologize for or it doesn't mean anything! Not do them all over again and expect that things will be okay this time!"
"I know I lied, but-"
"For…for him! For Dresden!"
"No!"
"Of course you did! He told you to so you did!"
"I was trying to pro-"
"STOP SAYING THAT!" Harry roared. He cast a quick glance up the stairs and backed away from her, running his fingers violently through his hair. "I swear I will lose my mind if you say that again!"
"Harry, please listen to me!" Ginny begged tearfully, following him this lap around the room. "We can't…We have to…sort all this out later. He-He's going to try to take him! Lionel...he's going to try to take the Snitch away! He'll say that I'm-I'm unfit as a mother in a court and he might actually-"
Harry stopped so suddenly that she collided with him. Her touch seemed to burn him, though, because he walked straight to the fireplace on the other side of the room. "Maybe the esteemed Mr. Dresden is right," he said, staring down into the grate.
"W-What?" Ginny asked, rooted with shock. Any notion she'd had that resolving things between her and Harry was manageable began to fade away.
"You were going to kill him." He pointed up to the ceiling. "You were going to kill your child because Dresden told you to. You said it yourself."
Her despair morphed into anger at his sickening presumption. "I didn't say that!"
"You told him you were pregnant, he told you to get an abortion that you didn't go through with. Those were your words, not five minutes ago!"
"So? I didn't-"
"That means that you had made an appointment that you didn't go through with, Ginny. It means that a part of you actually considered…" He groaned in disgust rather than say the words.
"You," she countered, balling up her hands in fists, "were not there! You have no idea what I was thinking or feeling that day in that healer's office! Ask Nell. She was on call that day; she spoke to me and saw how much just being in that room was destroying me! After I talked to her, everything made sense and I have spent every waking moment since then trying to make it up to my son for one instant of weakness!"
Harry sniffed and wiped his hand over his face before looking at her again. "Let's say she hadn't been there that day," he said. Ginny looked away. It was a question she never liked asking herself. "What would've happened if it was some other healer who had come into the room, tired and overworked; someone who didn't look to see if you were upset or not? Would you have drunk down the potion they brewed for you? Gone home to your lord and master whose will you yielded to? Stayed with him? Been his little whore for now and ever after?"
Wandless magic had never come naturally to Ginny, so she was quite shocked with how easily the Blasting Curse flew from her hand straight at Harry's head. He ducked only just in time and the spell blew a huge, earth-shattering hole into the wall behind him. The whole house shook for a few seconds. Harry hadn't even started to rise when the Snitch's wails reached them downstairs.
Ginny turned and fled blindly up the stairs, sure she would be sick with grief and anger. How could Harry say those things to her, think those things about her when only hours ago he had been holding as they slept, his hand curled in hers?
Maybe he's a psychic. Maybe he knows deep down that you ask those questions of yourself from time to time. You just never wait to hear the answer.
Ginny pressed her hands to her ears to stifle her thoughts. "Shut up! Shut up!" She whispered as she tracked her son's cries. She nearly fell into the nursery in her haste to get to him. Harry must have placed him in his crib. It was the first time he had slept in there. The baby was screaming ferociously, arms and legs flailing about, the color of his hair changing as fast as the spin of a fortune wheel at a fair.
"Shhh," Ginny soothed raggedly, picking him up with shaking hands. His sleeper became moist with her own tears as she tucked his head under her chin and she hated herself anew. "It's okay, sweet boy. Mummy's here. I'm sorry the loud noises scared you. You're safe; she'll keep you safe and sound. You don't need to cry." She patted his back and hummed as best she could, dropping kisses all over his head as his cries continued unabated, every one a twisted serrated knife to her heart. Her pain had become her child's pain, the cardinal sin of any parent. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear.
"That's good," Ginny heard Harry say loudly from behind her; rather than turn to face him, she focused her eyes on the elegant script of the letter "P" that marked the crib's headboard. "That's good that you're starting to apologize to him already. It's probably best that he gets used to hearing that from you."
Ginny forced her hands not to grip the baby's warm body against hers too tightly, lest she break him over the viciousness resonating from Harry's voice. The poor boy was already screaming his head off from being disturbed by a nasty row; she couldn't imagine what he'd sound like with broken bones.
"I mean, just think of all the things you'll have to apologize for as he grows up with you." He didn't scream or shout, but his words were weighted down by pain and anger "Someday you'll tell him, 'I'm sorry we don't see your uncles and your grandparents more often; I fucked up my life so much I had to move to a world they can only visit once month.' Then another time you can say, 'Mummy is sorry you didn't make any professional rosters in the Quidditch League; I don't know when and how to keep my trap shut when I talk about the sport so I just end up pissing everyone off in my column and you get to bear the brunt of it.' Maybe you'll even be lucky enough to be able to say, 'Son, Mummy wishes you could keep seeing that lovely witch, but you see what happened was years ago, I was a complete and utter slag and I screwed her father until her mother walked in on us. Christmas supper would just be too awkward, right?' That'll be nice, won't it?"
"Shhh," Ginny murmured again to the Snitch, trying to block out Harry's hateful words that were loud enough to be heard over the baby's crying. How dare he? Did he think it was funny? Did he not understand that Ginny had nightmares about someday having to actually say things like that, and a hundred other versions, to her son? Loving her Snitch and being his mother was the one pure thing she had in this world, free from any type of regret or shame, the one thing that was hers and no one else's. Her control fought against its leash, teeth gnashing and growling.
If he said one more thing…
"But maybe you'll be selfish and just keep the boy locked away in Hastom, away from the world you ran from! He'll get to hide out here forever with his coward mother and never get the chance to-"
The leash snapped and so did she.
"YOU'RE NOT HIS FATHER!" Ginny turned and screamed at him. Harry stood stock still, his eyes wide and lifeless. "HE'S NOT YOURS! WHAT IS IT TO YOU WHAT KIND OF LIFE HE HAS WITH ME?"
She didn't wait for his response. All the fight left her when the last word left her lips, leaving only deep shame in its wake. She turned away and slumped down to the floor; she leaned her head against the crib rails as she sobbed, her son almost quaking in her arms.
Oh Godric, Ginny thought when the fog finally cleared somewhat from her mind a moment later. Why did I say that? That…I shouldn't have…Harry…
Pulling herself up to her feet with one hand, she took a deep breath, hoping the baby would relax now that the screaming was over. His hearing was so sensitive, even if he hadn't understood the words themselves, he certainly understood enough to know that that they were awash in anger and to be frightened by them. If he wasn't exactly relaxed now, then at least he was wearing himself out. His eyelids drooped and the wrinkles on his little red face eased. The locks of his hair faded to ginger when he succumbed to a fitful sleep against her shoulder. As gently as she could, so as not to wake him again, she turned to the door.
It was empty.
"Harry?" Ginny rasped quietly, walking out into the hallway. There was no answer. Searching the rooms upstairs offered nothing so she made her way carefully downstairs. "Harry…? Are you…?" It was useless. She must have missed the crack of his Apparition amidst her tears. "No. Please, no," she whispered, looking out through the windows of the living room to see if he was by the dock. That was empty as well, as she had known it would be.
Harry was gone.
With a weary body that felt like it had been awake for days and a soul that felt stained beyond any washing, Ginny laid down on the couch, settling her son over her heart. "Rest," she told herself. "Just rest and…and it won't hurt as much."
Her eyes wouldn't cooperate. They stared vacantly at the clock on the fireplace mantle. The hands were pointed to 11:47.
Look at that. Beat the old record already.