Disclaimer: All of the same legal stuff applies.

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Jennifer who cried when Lucy died. You flatter me.

Chapter Nine

Tears In Heaven

"Would you know my name

If I saw you in heaven

Will it be the same

If I saw you in heaven

I must be strong, and carry on

Cause I know I don't belong

Here in heaven…"

Eric Clapton: 'Tears In Heaven'

                "A rat, Ginny. I can't believe you blew our cover because of a rat." Imogen shook her head in mock disappointment.

                "I'm sorry. I hate them. I couldn't help it," Ginny said.

                As they walked out of the Great Hall and to their respective first classes of the day, a cold voice with measured impatience stayed them.

                "Miss Spencer, a word in my office." Professor Snape's voice stopped both girls.

                Ginny heard the barely audible response of Imogen: "Shit!"

                "Now, Miss Spencer." Professor Snape turned on his heels and headed off in the other direction. Imogen followed with shoulders slumped.

                Ginny shot her a piteous glance before continuing up the stairs to Charms class.

                Imogen didn't speak for the entire walk down to Snape's dungeon office. Neither of them did.

                Professor Snape, once behind his desk, glared at Imogen and asked, "I'm sure you have a very good excuse planned out as to why you were not in class yesterday. But I don't want to hear it."

                Imogen didn't look up. She knew what was coming next and she sighed a heavy, resigned sigh. Detention added to all of the other things she was expected to do in a day, compounded by the fact that she was up nights worrying about Peter and chasing Lucius Malfoy through the Middle Ages in her spare time.

                "You are getting detention for this."

                Imogen nodded. It was only fair.

                "Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Mr. Flich's office. I'm sure he can put you to some use." Professor Snape grabbed a stack of papers and began to flip through them. "You may go now, Miss Spencer."            

                Imogen gave a start. "You're not going to take points?"

                "No. Slytherin is in the lead, but only marginally. I think it would be unfair to the rest of your house mates if your indiscretions lost it for them. You're already very unpopular among them. Let's not push it further."

                "Thank you, Professor," Imogen said and then left, relieved that she hadn't lost any points for her house but dreading tomorrow night. What would Filch have planned for her? She almost didn't want to think about it—not before lunch anyway.

***

                "Tea, dear?" Ella asked her grandson as the house elves carried in the tray.

                Draco shook his head and continued his playing. It sounded different, their song. The melody was quite hollow without the cello that usually accompanied it.

                Ella sat in silence until the piece was finished. She knew she must talk to her grandson. He was suffering over something and it really was most unusual that he should show up on her doorstep tonight. He wasn't in the habit of visiting during the regular school months. He had planned to spend Christmas with her in the city, but that was weeks and weeks off.

                "Come here, child. Tell me what's been bothering you," she said in a very grandmotherly tone.

                Draco did as he was asked and came to sit next to his grandmother on the sofa. He remained silent, in thought, staring out at nothing. She had seen him like this before, but not since Lucy's accident.

                "How is the lovely Virginia doing, dear?" she asked brightly. She smiled as she noticed that the mention of her name brought him out of his solitary mood.

                "Fine, I guess. I don't see her much. We're both a little too busy to talk." Draco leaned back and avoided the elderly woman's stare.

                "That's a load of crap, dear," she scolded gently. "What are you doing? You'll regret pushing her away, mark my words. That girl would walk through fire for you. I know it. Lucy knew it. She loves you and you're too much of a coward to love her back." She smiled. She knew she was lighting a fire under him. She could sense his seething next to her. "Instead, you're here. Hiding out."

                "It's complicated, grandmother."

                "Then explain it to me. I am still of sound mind. I'm not too far over the hill yet. And there's certainly nothing you could say that would shock me, dear."

                "I know that there's really no one I can blame for what happened—," he faltered a bit.

                "For Lucy's death. Go on, dear."

                "But, I guess I thought I could handle it if I had someone to hate, someone to blame everything on. Voldemort and my father used Ginny to find the other heirs. So, I blamed her. I was unforgivably angry with her. I was so angry I that I didn't even notice that she was hurt. They hurt her, drugged her for the information and she almost died." He paused. "They used Veritas Serum on her, a lot of it. I didn't see it. I didn't want to. I assumed that she was like all of the rest of them. I thought maybe she was like everyone else. She didn't give a damn about Lucy, she'd turn her over to Voldemort if it meant saving herself. How could I have had such little faith in her?"

                "Because, you've had little opportunity to place faith in anyone. Certainly your father was never someone you could rely on." Ella stopped momentarily as she felt her grandson tense as she mentioned his father. 

                After a moment, Draco continued. "Yes, but how can I expect her to forgive all of that, for believing her capable of—if it had been me, I wouldn't forgive. I would hate. I'm sure she hates me."

                "And how are you sure about that? Have you asked for her forgiveness?"

                "You mean apologize? I never apologize. I'm a Malfoy."

                "That's bullshit, sweetheart. Do you want her forgiveness? Do you want to know if she loves you or not?" Ella waited for an answer.

                Draco nodded with a defeated sort of air.

                "Then you have to apologize."

                "Can I stay tonight?" Draco asked, after a labored sigh escaped him.

                "Yes, but you cannot hideout here. I expect you to be back at school by tomorrow afternoon."

                "Thank you, grandmother." Draco stood and stretched and then bent to kiss his grandmother's cheek. "Goodnight."

                "Goodnight, love. Think about what I said, will you," she called after him as he retreated from the parlor and up the stairs.

                "Yes, grandmother," she heard him call wearily as his footfalls on the stairs diminished.

***

                Draco was very weary. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he'd passed out on the sofa at the Manor the night before school started. He climbed the stairs with heavy feet and a full mind. His grandmother had given him much to think over. Too much, in fact, to give him any moment's rest.

                His room at the top of the landing was lit with a low burning fire. The room was dim and the flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, on a large painting that hung there—himself and his sister at ages seven and three.

                He'd forgotten entirely that this painting was here, taken for granted when she was alive. Now it was somehow sacred because she was no longer there.

                He lay down on the bed, not bothering to remove his shoes, prey to all of the memories that inevitably crept in while he was struggling to find sleep.

                He gave a start when he saw her eyes flutter open. She had been out for three days. Jumping to his feet he started for the door. His mother would want to know that she was awake.

                He was stayed by her as she placed a hand on his forearm, silently asking him not to leave her. He wouldn't if that's what she wanted. He placed his other hand over hers, bandaged, her fingertip where cold.

                He pulled a chair closer to her bed and sat, never taking his eyes from her.

                Silently he thanked God for hearing his prayer. She had come back to him. It was the only time he had ever asked God for anything, and the last time he would ever speak to Him again.

                Lucy tried to sit up and cried out slightly in pain.

                "Don't," Draco said, restraining her. He winced in empathy. She must be in terrible pain though her tranquil face would never give her away.

                After a few labored breaths she spoke, "What happened?"

                "You had an accident," he hated his mindless conformity to his father's excuses.

                She shook her head slowly and looked away. "I remember."

                "Lucy, what were you thinking? Why do you do it?" Draco asked, frustrated by her seeming proclivity to infuriate their father.

                She looked back over to him, her eyes gleamed with something like impatience. "I think I know what he's up to. I know what he's planning. I need to tell—," she paused. A look of horror and panic passed over her face. "Draco, I can't feel my legs." Her eyes were wide, searching his face for an explanation she knew he had.

                Draco stood again. "I'm going to get the doctor."

                "No," Lucy demanded. "You're going to tell me what's going on. Draco, what's wrong with me?" Her eyes were pleading.

                He wasn't the right person to tell her and he didn't want to be the one to have to. "Let me get the doctor. He can explain it for you."

                "Draco, just tell me!"

                Draco took a deep breath and braced himself. Still he couldn't remember anything that had been more difficult than this moment. "There was too much damage to your spine. They couldn't repair it."

                She began to cry.

                Draco moved to sit next to her on the bed, careful not to hurt her. He felt her shaking in his arms and he was terrified for her. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like to get news like that.

                "So…so I'm paralyzed?" she said through her sobs.

                Draco nodded.

                The silence was long and tense. Lucy's crying was the only sound in the room.

                "I can live with that, I guess," she said finally, smiling brightly. Draco would never know a stronger person.

                "I am so sorry, Lucy," he said after a moment.

                She yawned. Despite the shocking news she had just received, she was falling asleep again. The medication was kicking in.

                "Sorry for what?" she yawned again. Draco felt her slump in his arms. She was asleep.

                "Sorry that I wasn't there to stop him. I won't let anyone hurt you again," he promised and then kissed her forehead. "I will protect you, I promise."

                He'd promised in vain. She was dead.

                With the memory, his self-loathing kicked in. He hated himself. He promised her and he broke that promise. No one would ever be safe around him. His father seemed to prey on the people he loved. Ginny was better off without him. Even her brother seemed to pick up on that.

                He sat up quickly and opened the door, treading silently along the landing and down the stairs. He went into the now empty parlor and opened the cabinet in the corner. Typical French liquor adorned the shelves. He swore silently. Gin was his usual vice.

                Oh, well, he thought, anything would do. He wanted to drown out all memories, all guilt. He wanted to sleep for a change. He pulled a bottle down at random and drained it in a matter of minutes.

                He watched the dying flames of the parlor's fire from the couch. In no time they blurred into a fuzzy image and then ceased to be all together. And he was asleep.

***

               

                 Tuesday morning, late morning, found Draco blissfully unconscious on his grandmother's parlor sofa. She leaned over him and shook her head. She was growing more worried for him by the minute.

                She bent and untied the laces of his shoes and took them off, placing his feet on the sofa instead of seeing him sprawled out in the impossible position she'd found him in. She pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over him, leaving him to sleep it off in his own time. She intended to write to his Headmaster this afternoon to excuse his absence from school.

                Closing the door to leave him in peace, Ella was stopped by one of the house elves who announced that Sirius Black was here to see her.

                "Ah, how are you, dear?" she asked brightly seeing the familiar face of her friend.

                "Frustrated," Sirius admitted. "Dorothy has pulled funding due to the fact that I am representing Peter. I have a feeling she's going to make his next hearing and any subsequent appeals very difficult."

                "She has a lot of influence, that old bag. If it's the investigation team you are worried about, I'll fund it entirely," she said with an eccentrically elegant wave of her hand.

                "It's nothing to do with funding. I think she's going to do everything she can to see that Peter hangs." Sirius was looking very hassled about something. Ella guessed that it was nothing to do with Dorothy Fudge or Peter Pettigrew.

                "Dear, over half of the wizarding community would like nothing more than to see him executed. It's public knowledge that he informed on Harry's parents. That boy is a hero. Naturally the community would want to see justice followed through on poor Peter." Ella tried reasoning and then gave up all together. "It's nearly time for lunch. Will you join me? I know a lovely little spot by the park, excellent croissants."

                Sirius nodded and followed her out.

***

                Draco awoke to the sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Even with the parlor doors shut, the sound pounded painfully between his ears.

                He held his wrist up to his face and waited until the number on his watch came into focus. One o'clock. There went the promise to his grandmother about going back to school this morning.

                He sat up, an action that brought painful consequences. His head spun unpleasantly and his stomach churned. What was the last thing he had eaten? He couldn't remember. Just the thought of food left him teetering on the edge of nausea.

                He leaned over precariously with a rush of blood to the head and put his shoes on. Tying them proved to be more of a challenge than he was up to. He left the laces dangling loosely from them and stood on wobbly feet.

                He went to the desk—the same one he sat at only months before to write his grandmother explaining why he was taking Lucy back to England. It was just after Ginny had been taken. He wrote his grandmother now to tell her that he was going back to school and that he planned to follow her advice with regards to Ginny. At the end he thanked her and signed it with love.

                He grabbed his coat that was slung lazily over an armchair and left the house.

***

                Ginny walked carelessly around the lake. She was taking the advice of her physician. She needed exercise to rebuild her immune system. Ginny was following that suggestion. She was also advised to avoid stress.

                Oops! Ginny thought with a half-smile. I wonder if chasing evil Death Eaters through the past was considered stressful.

                She shuffled her feet along the soft earth at the water's edge. The wind had a cold bite to it, but it was pleasant enough for early November. She wrapped her cloak around her and coughed slightly. Great, she thought, a cold is just what I need right before end of term exams.

                She had come out here to seek solace from Nan's continual taunts. Honestly, what was wrong with that girl?

                The wind picked up more as she made another lazy lap and then it started to rain.

                "Argh!" Ginny raged, throwing her hands up at the sky, water dripping down her nose. "Am I always doomed to the worst of luck, or what?" she asked the clouds.

                She trudged miserably back up to the steps of the school, stomping as much mud off of her ruined shoes as possible. She was dripping and sniveling and she knew in a few days' time she would have a lovely cold.

                Just inside the entrance hall, Ginny stopped to catch her breath and to peel her soaking cloak off of her shoulders. Her clothes underneath were soaked too. Her hair was plastered to her face, giving her the appearance of a drowned dog. She hopped no one would see her as she sneaked up the stairs.     

                She was nearly to the portrait of the Fat Lady when a voice stopped her.

                It was Filch.

                She turned slowly, dreading what he would say next after he stopped her with a shout.

                "Tracks all the way up the stairs and down the hall. Do you think I have the time to mop up after every disgusting little student?" Mrs. Norris slinked silently around her master's ankles giving Ginny the haughtiest of stares.

                "I got caught in the rain, sir. I am terribly sorry." Ginny knew her pleas would get her nowhere. "I'll clean it up, I promise. I just have to change first." She looked down and noticed with dread that she was creating a large pool of rain water under her dripping robes.

                "Oh, you'll do more than mop, young lady. I'm giving you detention for this. Five points from…what house are you in?" he asked.

                Ginny blinked and then stared. "Gryffindor," she added, trying hard not to laugh.

                "Five points from Gryffindor then."

                Damn, Ginny thought, I should have said Hufflepuff.

                "Change out of those wet things and meet me outside of my office at eight. You'll have company, but I suspect that neither of you will find anything pleasant about your punishment." Filch turned and walked away, Mrs. Norris scurrying behind him.

                Ginny felt no hint of regret at once having petrified that evil cat. She had the uncontrollable urge at the moment to kick it.

                She sniffed and then turned and entered the common room.

***

                "Have there been any strange sort of abductions lately? Around here?" Sirius asked as he strolled next to Ella Bertrand through a park on the east end of Paris.

                "Abductions?" Ella asked stopping and turning to face her companion.

                "Children. Groups of them. Schools. Orphanages."

                "Yes, actually. One was raided two weeks ago. One that I regularly donate to, as it happens. Why do you ask, Sirius?" Ella furrowed her brow and stared intently at him.

                Sirius gestured to a bench and they both sat. He began his theory. "Two have been attacked in the White Chapel district, just last week alone. Arabella has been drawing comparisons between this strange rash and one that took place in the forties, Grindewald's great scheme."

                "What was he looking for?" Ella asked.

                "That's the thing. No one knows. Only in this case, the copy-cat is not killing at random. He's taking the children, killing only the workers and caretakers—adults." Sirius watched Ella's expression change from that of polite interest and curiosity into one of shock and concealed horror.

                "So someone is preying on the children, using them for something?" Ella asked slowly.

                "That's our best guess."

                "It's Lucius Malfoy. I'd place any wager on it." She nodded firmly.

                Sirius shook his head and regarded her as the oddest of conspiracy theorists. "Ella, Lucius Malfoy was presumed dead this past summer. It couldn't possibly—," he was cut off by her uncharacteristically sharp tone.

                "Did you find a body?"

                "Well, no. But, no one could have survived—," he was cut off again.

                "Lucius Malfoy is not just anyone. I wouldn't be surprised if he were watching us as we speak. He has disappeared but he is certainly not gone." She stopped and sat up straighter. "In fact, your conclusions seem to confirm what I've been suspecting for sometime. He is alive and he is behind this."

                "How can you be so sure?" Sirius asked, searching her eyes for some logical reasoning. Maybe the death of her granddaughter had finally gotten to her.

                "He's been using children in several different experiments forever. His family has funded an orphanage on their estate for years. He uses them. Uses the tenants' children. Dale was investigating this all along. I think she was on to something." She sighed and crossed one leg elegantly over the other. "But, then he killed her and that was the end of that."

                Sirius was shocked. He wanted to believe that she was just making some horrible joke. He didn't know what to say.

                "He tried to use his daughter once, too," she continued.

                Sirius still said noting, his face was the very picture of revulsion and anger.

                "A dementor, I think it was what Dale was trying to explain to me. She fought for that child furiously. That was when they came to live with me for a while. Lucy was only six years old at the time. Draco had just turned ten. "

                "Has he made any attempts to get to his son?" Sirius said with mounting alarm.

                "No. He wouldn't harm Draco. He only ever went after Lucy." Ella stood.

                "What do you think he'd do with all of those children?" Sirius asked, standing as well.

                "I shudder to think." Ella turned to walk back to the car where her driver was now waiting for her. He had just popped into the shop for some cigarettes a moment before. "I will poke around on this end. Use my connections, spies, to see what he's up to. I'll contact you in a week."

                "Bye, Ella." Sirius kissed her cheek and handed her into the car. "Take care of yourself. Don't do anything rash without me." She winked and he shut the door, stepping back up onto the curb.

                He watched the car retreat against a bleeding red afternoon sun.

                The car disappeared around a corner and Sirius walked back across the street and to the park. He was going to poke around the raided orphanage that Ella had mentioned.

                He hadn't even gotten halfway across the street when a loud explosion rocked the entire block, nearly throwing him to the ground. He whirled around and saw that flames were leaping wildly from the wreck of the car he had just watched pass. You wouldn't have even been able to guess that it had been a Jaguar the minute before this. Now it was an inferno of hot orange and red flames.

                Another explosion  rocked the street as the fire reached the gas tank.

                "Jesus!" exclaimed a shocked and panicked Sirius who headed back across the road and toward the wreck of fire and twisted mental. It was too hot to get closer. There was nothing he could do. They were both dead, driver as well as passenger.

***

                Ginny was only slightly more relieved when she saw that Imogen was to be her companion in detention tonight.

                They were summarily ushered into the dark bowels of the school where Filch merrily announced to them that they were to shelve three loads of books and other materials that had been recently archived. There was no room in the library and every so often another crate was packed up and shipped down here for sorting and storage.

                Ginny guessed that no one had bothered to shelve these books in quite a while. It would take them all night. She couldn't think of any useful spells that would expedite the job any faster.

                They worked in silence for a while until the novelty of the job wore off and they became bored with the task.

                "Do you think we'll go back again soon?" Imogen asked.

                Ginny sneezed at the dust and answered. "I don't know. Do you still want to find out what Lucius Malfoy is up to? I don't give a damn about the Founders and the chosen ones and all of that crap anymore."

                "Yes, I would like to know what he's planning."

                Ginny reached over to unfasten the last of the crates. Only this one didn't contain books. It was a case of wine. Ginny blew dust from one of the bottles and read. "Nineteen-twenty-three. Not bad." She looked suggestively to Imogen who in turn produced her wand and lit the opposite wall. It was covered in racks of rare wines. They were in a wine cellar.

                "What do they do with all of this stuff?" Ginny asked in amazement.

                Imogen turned and leveled and incredulous glare at her. "What? You think that the teachers are drinking pumpkin juice, same as you?"

                "Filch is an idiot for leaving us in here," Ginny laughed, expertly uncorking the bottle. "What should we toast to?"

                Imogen gave a moment's thought to the question. "No, wait! I've got it!" She cleared her throat and threw her chest out pompously. "Fuck the lot of them, let's get sloshed."

                "Right on!" Ginny agreed, throwing the dark red liquid back with an air of carelessness.

                They had no idea what time it was when they stumbled out of the cellar giggling hysterically.

                Ginny was crying with laugher, stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. She was crippled with the effort and so resorted to crawling on the dungeon floor as her only means of transportation.

                Imogen trailed behind, weaving with an empty bottle.

                There was a sliver of light at the end of the tunnel and so they gravitated toward it without thinking.

                Imogen comically put a finger to her lips as they neared. It was Snape's office. He was deep in conversation with someone. They both stopped to listen.

                Ginny secretly hoped that it was Crabbe or Goyle receiving some sort of punishment.

                They kept to a corner where they were reasonably concealed in darkness of the hall.

                "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this." Snape's voice had a nervous sort of edge to it.

                "Go on," an impatient voice answered. Ginny gasped slightly. It was Draco's voice.

                "There's no easy way to say what I have to—," the Potions Master was cut off with a clipped command.

                "Just say it. What could possibly be so bad that you dragged me down here at eleven o'clock at night?" Ginny could hear Imogen's loud breathing as she stood behind her.

                "It's your grandmother, Draco. She was killed in an accident this afternoon." Snape's voice shook with regret. Ginny was too hammered to tell if it was manufactured or genuine.

                Luckily her reflexes were still somewhat in tact.

                Imogen had dropped the wine bottle that she had been carrying. Ginny caught it just before it could crash to the floor. She wouldn't be responsible for blowing their cover twice in one week.

                "That just isn't true. I was there this morning," Draco was saying.

                "Mr. Malfoy, I assure you that it is true. If you'd like to talk to the Headmaster, I can arrange it. He has the most details," Snape offered.

                "Thank you, perhaps in the morning." Draco sounded stunned and disbelieving.

                "If there's anything I can—," Snape began.

                "Thank you. No, Professor. I'll be fine."

                "I will understand if you are not in class in the morning. Please feel free to take the rest of the week off." Snape's offers were politely refused.

                Ginny heard Imogen's drunken sobbing behind her and nudged the girl to shut her up.

                Draco came out into the hallway looking very much like a deer caught in the headlamp of an oncoming train.

                He closed the door and let his chin fall to his chest.

                Imogen's crying was loud enough for him to hear. He turned and looked into the shadows.

                "Who's there?" he called in a cautious tone.

                Ginny pushed herself away from the wall and came into view. "It's just us," she said, endeavoring to keep her tone even.

                Apparently he hadn't thought that they were eavesdropping and so ended the questioning when she explained that they were down in the wine cellar sorting books in detention.

                His comments ended with the general observation, "You're drunk."

                "Yes, very," Ginny said, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

                Draco bent and picked Imogen up off of the ground where she was still crying and forced her to stand upright. He placed one of her arms around his neck and braced her with a hand around her waist. She sniffed softly but didn't say anything. Her head lolled and hit Draco's shoulder hard.

                He looked from Imogen to Ginny and shook his head wearily, but didn't comment.

                She followed him as he supported Imogen and climbed the stairs to the upper levels.

                Once, Ginny stumbled on the steps up to the Gryffindor common room and grabbed at the back of Draco's shirt. He reached around and caught her by the wrist just before she hit the stone.

                With an agitated sigh he shifted Imogen's weight in one arm and supported Ginny with the other. This was becoming a bit ridiculous.

                At the top of the stairs, Draco caught sight of Harry just as he was heading to the Fat Lady's portrait.

                "Potter," Draco said with measured effort, supporting the dead weight of two rather pissed girls. "Give me a hand, would you."

                Harry looked thoroughly perplexed but rushed over and caught Ginny as Draco knocked her into his arms. "What happened to them?"

                "Detention was the only explanation I got," Draco said simply. He hoisted the smaller girl over his shoulder. She was still crying softly. It was a funny sight and Harry laughed as the pair retreated to the Slytherin common room.

                "Thanks for the lift," Ginny slurred after him.

                "Anytime," Draco called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the stairs with his load.

                "Come on," Harry said, unable to hide his amusement. "You're going to be in for it when Ron finds out about this. You know that, right?" he asked.

                Ginny's chin fell to her chest but she didn't say a word.

                Harry sighed in exhaustion and lifted her dead weight into his arms and stepped into the common room.