DISCLAIMER: I own no part of the HP franchise. All rights belong to JK Rowling and WB/Scholastic, etc and so forth.
AN: Damn, child. It's been a hot minute. *cracks knuckles* Let's finish this thing. By that I mean, write several more chapters. I have time now, kind of. Also, desperately need a distraction. PLEASE BE SAFE LOVELY HUMANS.
"What do you mean, gone?"
Draco lifted stark eyes to hers and Ginny had to steel herself in order to survive that look and what it might mean for her friend.
"I mean...she left the flat." He drew a ragged breath and ran both hands up into his hair. "We were talking and she got upset and just...ran away. Oh, god."
Ginny tried not to flinch at the terror in his voice. "Well, then. I'd better start searching now, hadn't I? Any idea where she might've gone? Places she'd think of as safe?"
Draco shook his head, his grief apparently unfazed by Ginny's stoic presence. "No. There's nowhere. Just...here."
"Not even a park, or restaurant, or someplace she went by herself?"
Draco tried to think, he really did, but the truth was that she'd never gone places by herself, not really. He stopped and looked up at Ginny again.
"The grocery store?" he offered weakly. "Sometimes, only recently, she'd started to run the errands on her own…"
Ginny thought her heart might break. It was such a bleak existence for what had once been such a brilliant, independent woman.
"Malfoy, what happened to her?"
He began to shrug away the past as was his habit, but the explanations tumbled from his lips under the strength of his panic. "I don't know. I...she was kidnapped? Held hostage by a couple of madmen, tortured, emotionally abused, lost her memory - take your pick, Weasley, my god!"
Ginny recoiled as if struck. "You can't be serious -"
"What else do you think could possibly make a witch that brilliant withdraw in on herself so badly? Did you think I was hiding her away out of some vindictive Slytherin sensibility? Think I was trying to stick it to Potter and your brother?"
Ginny felt her own anger flare as Draco's words took on a furious, bitter tone.
"No, Malfoy. I thought no such thing. Why in hell do you think I was sitting on this information? I didn't know what to think and I still don't. All that matters now is that she's safe and so is London."
"Safe from some things, not from others." Draco's bitterness was turned inward now, and Ginny fought to control her temper at his mysterious words.
"Be clear!" she snapped anyway, and he closed his eyes.
"She's not safe from her magic," he replied through gritted teeth. "No one is at this point. The slightest thing might set her off."
"What the hell is she safe from, then? How is her magic her worst enemy at this point?" Ginny asked as her nervous energy drove one of her hands up into her hair, ready to pull it in frustration.
"Yaxley."
The name was spoken in such a harsh whisper that Ginny wasn't sure she'd understood him at first.
"Yaxley?" she repeated, utterly dumbfounded.
Draco gave one small, miserable nod. "And Carrow."
Suddenly certain the floor of the flat was tilting beneath her feet, Ginny reached out a hand to steady herself on something, anything.
"Carrow. And Yaxley," she breathed. "And how did you...how did you know they weren't a threat any longer? They're dead?"
"They must be," he replied. "Yaxley had some sort of spell on her. I couldn't get a picture of her - when I first found her, I tried to get a photo, in order to show the Aurors in Australia. They wouldn't listen to me, you see. Wouldn't believe me that she was there, alive, his prisoner."
Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. Merlin help those aurors when Harry heard the full story.
"So you went in for her by yourself? Against those two?"
"Carrow was half mad. Yaxley...I don't know, Weasley. I had to do something, didn't I?"
The expression on his face as he finally looked up at her was desperate and she swallowed back the bile that had risen in her throat.
"Yes," she replied, as gently as possible. "You did."
"But Yaxley...I was sure the fire had killed him, but I checked her for the spell nearly every day after her escape and it still...lingered."
"You mean you haven't been able to get a photo of her all this time? What makes you certain it's gone for good, that Yaxley is really dead?"
"The flyer," he rasped out. "I saw the flyer this morning and-"
A strange feeling filled Ginny's chest and she cut him off. "My flyer? The one I put up in the grocer's?"
He nodded. "I saw her face there and I knew you must have -"
"You thought I took her picture."
Her voice was curiously flat and she felt Draco's eyes on her face again.
"Yes, yes -" he stopped short and she met his gaze steadily. "Oh, gods," he breathed and Ginny was sure he knew what she was going to say.
"Malfoy, I didn't take her photo."
"No."
"That's right. So whatever spell you thought she was out from under, whoever you thought she was finally safe from…"
"But how?" he asked brokenly. "How did you manage the picture, then?"
"How else?" Ginny gave a single, sharp laugh. "Magic." She took a shaky breath, then another, and licked her lips. "Listen, Malfoy. I need you to think again. Hermione needs you to think again. And the minute you come up with something, you call me, do you understand?"
Draco was looking at her, his expression hard - as if this were her fault, somehow, and not his. As if the system hadn't failed all of them, all the old prejudices, all the new fears...but it was very hard to be understanding when he was looking at her with renewed anger and saying, "Understood, Weasley," as if her name represented everything he'd ever hated.
And although she knew their school days were behind them; although she knew he was hurting and bitter and in love with a woman who no longer knew herself; although she knew his entire life had been turned upside down once and was about to meet a similar fate; and all because he'd done the right thing for once in his life...she couldn't help meeting his bitterness with some of her own.
"I wish I could stay here and hold your hand, Malfoy, but you know bloody well I have to make sure she's safe -"
"Well she isn't," Draco spat.
"You don't have to tell me twice," Ginny hissed back. "Just...stay here. I'll check the grocer's. If anything happens, send a patronus. Don't bother with the telephone. We'll need speed on our side if we're going to contain this."
"You honestly think we can?" Draco asked, his voice suddenly tired, his fury gone in a flash as all his energy was redirected to worrying about Hermione...Jean.
Ginny hesitated. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Now stay here."
Jean's feet carried her to the corner grocer's and she turned in, her body on complete autopilot as her mind worked through the problem presented with furious speed.
She walked aimlessly through the produce section first, then the pasta aisle, then the soups... the meat department, the freezer section...all the while, her mind racing and her eyes unseeing.
Daniel had known who she was. Of course he had, he'd known her captors.
Daniel had saved her because he knew who she was. He'd never been acting magnanimously.
Daniel had helped her stay hidden away. It didn't benefit him to let her return.
Daniel had gotten her a therapist. Likely someone who had known her in her other life, too.
Daniel had spirited her out of odd situations constantly since they'd been back. Why hadn't she realized it before?
Why. Hadn't. She realized.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Jean glanced up to find she'd stopped moving and was blocking the middle of a narrow aisle - international foods. Ignoring the old woman who was smiling at her kindly, she turned slowly in a circle, truly looking at the shelves.
"Who am I?" she whispered to herself.
"Pardon? You're in the grocer's, miss," offered the old woman, who hadn't quite heard her.
Jean didn't bother answering and this time, when her feet carried her out of the store and in an entirely different direction, she let them.
Theo watched Ron Weasley's expressions thoughtfully. The other wizard was hunched over in his seat, running a hand over his hair every two minutes, looking for all the world like he was ready to pack it all in or run a marathon for the hell of it. There was a nervous energy about him despite the obvious strain on his tired face, and Theo wondered how he'd react if he compared him to Draco Malfoy just then. The two men could be twins, emotionally speaking, at the moment.
"Have you told him how you feel?" he instead asked gently, and Ron nodded.
"Yeah. 'Course. He just...doesn't listen, does he? And now…"
"Now the investigation is actually going somewhere."
"Yeah."
"And how does that make you feel, compared to what you've said you want?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I really...don't know. On the one hand, it's Hermione. Hermione, you know? I loved- I still love her. A part of me always will. But I had to grieve for her already. Otherwise…"
"No man can live with that kind of guilt," Theo finished for him. Ron's lips quirked up slightly.
"Right. And I know you and everyone else said it wasn't my fault, but the only way I could live with it was if…"
"If it was already over."
"I'm going in circles, that's what you're going to say."
"We have been over this material before," Theo said, his tone mildly amused. "But that's okay. If it's what you need to talk about again to make you trust yourself, that's all that matters."
"Right," Ron repeated. He looked out the window, his expression still tired, but less troubled. "That's what I need."
"It sounds...as if you've made a decision," Theo offered and was rewarded by a true smile from his client.
"I think I have. Thanks. Thank you, truly."
"Of course, Ronald," Theo replied. He stood up along with Ron and started toward the door of his office when the other man stopped.
"You've an owl, looks like," Ron said, tilting his head toward the window. Theo glanced back and could see his owl flapping its wings outside the office window, a missive in its claws. "Busy day for you already?" he inquired in a friendly manner.
Theo stuck a hand in one pocket while gesturing at the door with the other hand.
"You could certainly say that," he replied easily before seeing the man out. He heard the thunk of a message in the letter box at his window ledge as he closed the door behind them. The sound caused the smile on his lips to thin slightly, but if anyone noticed, it wasn't mentioned.
At the ministry, several things seemed to happen almost all at once.
First, Ron Weasley returned to the Aurors' offices and made a beeline for Penelope Clearwater as soon as he saw her.
Second, Astoria received an urgent memo from Daphne that she wasn't able to read in full because Clearwater hadn't seen Weasley yet and was watching Astoria like a hawk.
Third, a flurry of activity at the other witch's desk told Astoria that Harry Potter was also returning to the offices shortly.
Astoria had to make several quick decisions - a skill at which she was practiced, but that she hadn't needed to exercise under such stressful circumstances in years. First, she waved brightly at Weasley in order to draw Clearwater's attention away from herself. Second, she begged leave of Clearwater to visit the Witches lavatory, which the now distracted witch was eager to , she charmed herself unnoticeable as soon as she was out of reach so that when Potter did arrive, she would have gained a few minutes for...what, she wasn't sure. She only knew that it was vital to Draco that he have those few extra minutes before Potter hunted him down like a dog…
...and hunt him down like a dog, he will, she thought as she read over Daphne's disjointed note. Her sister had used the Malfoys' connections to get the memo to her through the Ministry's obfuscated channels and urgent was only the first word that came to Astoria's mind as she looked it over.
Draco had found Granger, apparently, and proceeded to drag Theo into the mess. Theo had, in turn, kept the entire debacle quiet and would likely face a trial, same as Draco...regardless of the help he'd been providing.
"Over my dead body," Astoria whispered, furious. Theo had made her sister happier than she'd seen her in years and she would not allow Draco's drama to befoul the one good thing that had entered the Greengrass' lives since the end of the war. Well, her choice was clear to her now. She had to speak up, to be as honest as possible in order to help the people who had bothered to care about her and her family after a madman had nearly destroyed them all.
Crumpling the memo in her hands and then setting a neat spell to destroy it, she tossed it behind her and stalked from the loo.
Potter still hadn't arrived, but Clearwater was past her first flush of speaking with Weasley and had begun to look around for Astoria.
"There you are. I was just telling Ron -"
"Yes, yes. I assumed so." Astoria turned to Weasley. "Apparently Malfoy might have something to do with these sightings of Granger lately."
"I - yes. That's what Pen was saying," Ronald Weasley replied, nonplussed.
Astoria was all business. "I have no evidence. All this is purely circumstantial and anecdotal."
Weasley looked as if he were resigned to another inconsequential game of make-believe. Clearwater looked piqued. Astoria smiled.
"Well? Do you want to take my statement or not?"
Without another word, Weasley gestured to his office and Astoria swept past him and Clearwater, head high...heart higher.
Jean walked past a park she'd only been to with Daniel and glanced in the gates. There was a young mother with two small children in tow - one following her closely, the other racing back and forth across the path to pick up small sticks, and flowers - to look at the bugs and chase birds and squirrels. She paused to watch their progress and wondered.
Coming down the path across from them was an old man, shoulders hunched, a soft cap smushed onto wild, grey hair. One hand held a small bag of bird seed, the other clenched the top of a cane tightly.
Far on the other side of the park, under the dim shadows of the trees, Jean could just make out a couple of people seated on the grass together, some sort of carryall slouched between them as they shared smiles.
Jean felt her heart ache for a moment. Had her life ever been so normal? So carefree? Would her life ever be the same? A sharp pain cut across her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fists to keep from rubbing at the spot. She opened her eyes wide, blinking furiously in the hope that the sensation would abate.
Another sight, painful to view, assaulting her tender, broken heart, greeted her wide gaze: two men and a little girl between them, holding both their hands and skipping along one, two, three times before being swung into the air. Her smile was infectious, the men's joy at her antics palpable.
"Daddy! Papa! Again, again!"
"Alright, there, bug, alright?" one of the men asked as they came abreast of her, and Jean felt her heart skip a beat. Her breath caught. Her eyes welled with tears.
The little girl didn't answer, for whatever reason. Perhaps she'd been distracted by a butterfly, or a loose shoelace.
Perhaps she'd seen the look of horror on Jean's face.
In the end, it didn't matter. All that mattered were the tears freely falling down Jean's face and the energy that suffused her upon hearing such a simple term of endearment.
Without further hesitation, she turned around and began to run.
The man at the grocery store watched the red haired woman leave, his expression indiscernible. She'd rushed in the door, demanded to know if they had video cameras, and then demanded to see the manager. Whatever she'd found in the manager's office hadn't made her any happier, but she'd given him a fleeting 'goodbye' as she'd rushed out again.
"Excuse me," he called after her, taking a chance. She just hesitated. "Excuse me, miss?" he called again
"I'm afraid I don't have time -" she started to say as her eyes focused on him, before he interrupted her.
"The manager isn't on the floor much," he said. "Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for, me and the staff might be more help."
The woman's expression tightened some as she sized him up. "Missing person," she said after a brief hesitation.
"It's that woman, isn't it?" he replied. "The one from the flyers."
She drew a sharp breath through her nose and then nodded. "Yes. Seen her?"
"Not this morning," he replied. "Suppose her family's worried for her?"
"Boyfriend," she said shortly. "But yes, he is. Very. Excuse me." She gave another nod and made to leave again - then turned back once more, on impulse. "If you see her...please don't hesitate to call me directly."
The woman walked towards him, close enough to hold out a business card, which he took.
He glanced at it and then looked up at her. He offered a sad smile. "I will, definitely."
"Thanks," she said quietly, and then she was gone again.
The man looked back at the card, his smile gone, too.
"Definitely."
