Bah, I'm sick of this, refer to the first bubbly thing. I disclaim, I own, I summarise and most of all I ramble. Do read on good friends!
Death, love and all that's in between:
# # #
Poor little mudblood. Everyone thinks you … HA! Yes YOU … killed that tag-along of a Weasley, his useless oppressive parents, that bitch McGonagall and pug-face Parkinson. As if! You have not the intelligence nor imagination to carry through these series of attacks. And why would you kill all those that have caused me pain? What personal vendetta do you have against them?
Don't worry you bucktoothed mudblood, you'll join your love oh-so-soon … never fear I promise you before this evening is over … you will be dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Then my plan will further unfold … 'Mudblood Murdered' the headlines will shout … and then the truth will be left once again a mystery. One more revenge following your death you dirty blooded witch and I'm through. My revenge will be complete. So sweet. Sweet like honeysuckle; so wickedly satisfying.
What do you think of that? You simple minded fools, shouldn't you know that the killer always frames another before committing other murders, the two most important? You dunderheads. You naive, naive fools … why was I, one of such superiority born into a world of such idiotic egotistical asses, where only a few match my attitude, intelligence and outlook on life?
Scream mudblood. SCREAM. I want to see your tears, I want to see the pain, and then you'll only feel a diminutive fraction of what I have felt from you. From your careless mouth. From your past actions. From everybody's love for you, above me! You deserve death you bitch. I hope you enjoy it, your dear boyfriend did.
Don't worry dear, the world will be a much happier place without the likes of you scuttling about. You will be dead, there will be one more to go and I'll be handed power soon afterwards. Isn't life grand?
# # #
Two weeks later
Harry felt to the floor; racking his body with sobs. No one; he had no one. Everyone he deeply loved was slipping away from him. First it was Mr and Mrs Weasley; they were his parents in every sense of the word but biological. They gave him everything they could and took him in as their own. At his graduation they'd bought Ron, 'Mione and him gold chains with each other's names and the year engraved into them. They looked after him when he was sick and they always helped him through heartache. Why would someone so good to him be taken away?
He then lost his two best friends in the whole wide world. Some deranged sicko had killed his two reasons for waking up each day, without them he was alone. Sure he had acquaintances … but no one knew him like Ron and 'Mione did, no one knew his past, no one knew how he thought, no one knew when to leave him alone … except them, and now both of them were gone. Both.
He wanted to hurt whoever was responsible for this. He wanted to see them murdered. He wanted to crumble their lives the way they had his. Hell he didn't have the slightest clue where to start in the hunt for this madman, or woman! Merlin, he didn't even know the killer's sex for crying out loud! How was he meant to track them?
What the hell did all the victims have in common … whom…?
* * * * *
Virginia sunk further into her bed, her warm warm bed. She stretched slightly and winced at her sore bones and bruises, she pulled out her wand and muttered them away in moments. She yawned and stretched like a cat, she went to her windowsill there was her Daily Prophet and an owl from Draco that probably arrived last night when she was out she mused. She'd reply it later today. She picked up the paper and shuffled over to the kitchen to have her morning coffee, she was a crab to anyone but Draco without it! Even Percy!
She stopped stirring her coffee for a moment as her eyes scanned over the headline.
HEADMISTRESS HERMIONE GRANGER … DEAD
Christ, couldn't they get more creative headlines? Virginia sighed at the story and read it over with glazed eyes. She took deep soothing sips of the warm liquid as she watched the scene of the body being pored over by aurors and magical experts. Fools.
She looked at the picture again and squinted. She pulled the paper closer to her nose and saw Harry sitting on the floor, his face glistening with tears and a haunted look passing over his features every time he glanced at the motionless body. So this hurt him? Would you push away like the others? Offcourse you would you selfish git. Virginia gritted her teeth and glared at the picture one last time before dropping it into the trash and hopping into the shower, to get over to the burrow.
* * * * *
Draco sighed; he'd tried to contact his Virginia last night, but no response. He'd rang, he'd owled, he'd apparated, he'd done all imaginable … but she wasn't to be found anywhere. He watched the hands drag slowly towards the 12 on his muggle watch, a gift from a client, 8 more minutes and it would be one p.m. Maybe he could visit her on her lunch break … Draco grumbled, if she was at work … and considering it was a Saturday, she wouldn't be.
Draco grimaced at the paperwork on his desk and his mind wandered to his redhead, he had suggested doing something last night but she'd said she was busy. He hadn't questioned it. He was bored. He missed her. His eyes wandered over to the headlines of the prophet
HEADMISTRESS HERMIONE GRANGER … DEAD
Imaginative he mused dryly, sitting down; while promising himself to hunt down Vir tonight and strap her to his bed for the next three days. He grinned decadently at that and hit his work with newfound vigour.
* * * * *
There were several, some of Ron and the twins when they were younger. One of Bill and his wife, Charlie and his pet dragons, The Weasleys on family holidays. Their bright smiling faces at all the graduations, 'Miones smiling face, Harrys grin while bear hugging Ron … the list went on. There were a small handful of Percy and Ginny, but not very many in contrast. Harry just shook his head at the passing thought. There were plenty of them as young children, actually more then fifty percent were from the time before Ginny started Hogwarts, Harry mused … he also spotted how Percy and Ginny were always closest to one another in photos. They were always close, but got closer as they got older he thought.
Then finally there was one muggle photo of Ginny sprawled out lazily infront of a beautiful villa in a country side, it didn't look like an English country side, too much sun too be an English country side … Italy he concluded. She was wearing a sundress, her red hair loosely held back by a clip, most falling and framing her face. It wasn't the fact he was realising that she was a lot older then he remembered her looking at the time … nor that she looked aloofly beautiful. No it was the fact that she was looking at the camera directly, unerringly, It was the glint in her eye and her cold smile that had caught his attention. She looked poignant, haunting … she looked almost … deadly.
Harry squinted at the picture as if piecing together a long lost mystery. He looked like a crazed man.
* * * * *
That's exactly how Virginia found him. Staring hopelessly at her picture. She hadn't wanted to put that one up … it was too exposed, she felt naked in it. But Percy had insisted claiming that she looked radiant in it, Virginia remembered the uneasy looks her mother gave her as she was placing it up. So what? Her mother was gone now. Virginia sighed and paused for a moment before clearing her throat to get Harry's attention.
Harry turned around, slowly dramatically as if expecting her presence upon his full turn. Her eyebrows met in the centre of her forehead in confusion … what was with Harry's questioning gaze?
"Harry…" she started but she saw no response lighting in those emerald eyes. He looked at her as if she wasn't there and then turned slightly towards the photo. He scrunched up his forehead in concentration and frustration. He then continued to turn from Virginia towards the photo. What was going on? "Harry…" she tried again, this time his head snapped to her and his eyes flashed.
"Ginny…"
"Harry…"
"What are you doing here?"
"Harry, this is the burrow…"
"And why does that matter, is it your home?" Virginia stopped at that; he made home sound sickly sweet. She knew the burrow wasn't her home it was her once in a while house. But why was Harry questioning any of that? She shook her head just as Harry plastered a false smile on his face, but she saw the glint in his eyes. She nearly dropped her handbag at the dull spark lighted in his eyes while drawing conclusions. Virginia sighed and made some quick decisions in her head.
"Um Harry … I'll be going now … farewell, I hope that you'll do okay with the loss…"
"Believe me I will, I'll finally have my revenge before this night is through" Virginia huffed in exasperation and stalked off from the malevolent grin and gaze Harry was sending her retreating back.
* * * * *
How could I have been so blind? I was so blind! It was so pain staking obvious. Pain, suffering … revenge All these people had one person in common. That person was a born performer. How hadn't he spotted it before? How had he missed the subtle looks … the double act!
Harry pounded his fist against his door. He was holding the various files of all the victims in his hand and finally making sense of this ludicrous puzzle.
Parkinson: twenty-eight, editor at Witch Weekly – 6 years, boss for 3, tormentor.
McGonagall: Headmistress, past professor, oppressor.
Weasleys: Loving parents … but to two, oppressive to one, this particular one.
Ron: Cavalier, oppressive, inconsiderate, left alone, blocking out all graciousness but from Harry and 'Mione
'Mione: Attached to the hip at Ron, inconsiderate, taking away the attention, measuring rod for academic achievements.
This is fucked Harry concluded, how did he get the killer by tonight? Where? What did he say to the ministry? What the hell was he supposed to do? Who would be next? Did they really think they could get away with this? He needed answers. He needed to think … to think fast. He needed to make sure the killer didn't plan anything for the future, the very near future. He needed … He needed…
He needed a drink. He walked swiftly out the door down to his favourite pub on Inebriation Alley with wild thoughts flying around his head of the files in his hands.
* * * * *
A/N: Now I know all you have figured it out … but I need to put in the final confrontation! Well toodles till the next chapter. And yes I know, the mystery aspect is pretty lost, we all knew who it was from the second murder … I promise never to write a murder mystery ever again … as it always turns out much too romantic.
Well, ciao!
Oh yeah and I apologise now because of the format of this, it's getting indents where I don't want them and not where I do! 'Scuse them.