Disclaimer: Same legal stuff applies.

Author's Note: I use the names Lucy and Imogen interchangeably. Mostly, she is referred to as Imogen when she is in that particular disguise—especially around Harry (who doesn't know about Lucy yet). I know, confusing girl, isn't she?

Chapter 14

Turn It Off

"It's amazing

How you make your face just like a wall

How you take your heart and turn it off

How I turn my head and lose it all

It's unnerving

How just one move puts me by myself

There you go just trusting someone else

Now I know I put us both through hell

I'm not saying

There wasn't nothing wrong

I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me

I'm not saying

We ever had the right to hold on

I just didn't want to let you get away from me

But if that's how it's going to be

Straight out from underneath

Then we'll see who's sorry now…"

Matchbox Twenty: 'Leave'

                Ginny stepped out into the hall thinking that she could have done a lot better on that last exam had she been in the proper mood lately to study. She shrugged and walked toward the Great Hall. She didn't care how she did. They were over. That's what mattered. She was free now to spend time with Lucy.

                She headed down the table where Ron and Hermione were in a discussion that rendered them oblivious to everyone else. Ginny sneaked by unnoticed and grabbed an orange, heading back out the way she had come and up to the infirmary.

                She never got there, however. Professor Snape came through the infirmary doors just as she was about to enter.

                "You were just the person I was looking for," he said solemnly. He handed her a piece of parchment, the same one that she had lent him just a few days prior. She took it silently and watched as Snape walked off down the hall without another word.

                When he had disappeared, Ginny took the letter in her hand, scanning the name on the front, her name, written in Draco's hand. She couldn't explain how she had come to that conclusion, but at that moment it struck her. She knew where he was.

                Peeking through the infirmary doors, she was reassured that Lucy wasn't alone—or Imogen wasn't alone, rather. Harry was sitting with her. But both were silent. Imogen hadn't spoken since she had woken up and asked for Harry. It was becoming worrisome.

                She shook her head. There was no need to fuss over her, Ginny reasoned. She was being well taken care of.

                She turned and headed to the empty Gryffindor Tower. Most of the students would be at lunch by now.

                She ran quickly to her room and threw her cloak over her. She knew what she was doing was highly illegal, but, she reasoned, she wasn't moving through time zones so no one would really kick up a fuss.

                Pulling the large front door of the school open, Ginny was accosted by the frigid wind. Snow was blowing wildly around her, sticking in her eyelashes and hair.

                Fighting the wind and snow, Ginny made her way past the gates and into Hogsmeade, a safe Apparating point outside of Hogwarts. 

***

                Sirius had explained what had happened with Peter. Harry sat there quiet, expressionless.

                "Why are you telling me this?" Harry had asked.

                "Because I thought you ought to know," Sirius answered. He watched with growing apprehension as Harry merely nodded in stoic understanding and turned to enter the infirmary again.

                He hadn't seemed surprised, shocked or in any other way concerned with the fact that Peter had shot himself just a few hours ago.

                He heaved a tired and frustrated sigh. He knew what he had to do. It would take a lot of convincing, but he thought it best. Lucy was in some serious trouble. Sirius saw no other alternative to taking her in for the holidays. And now it seemed that, in the odd state Harry was in, they would need each other. Snape was sure to protest. Arabella would certainly object, but everyone was in agreement that Lucy would not be going with her.

                He descended into the lower levels of the school. Knocking slightly before entering, Sirius noted Arabella's deteriorating state with alarm. When he had left, they were no clearer on how Lucy had come to be in Arabella's service or by what means. Sirius and Snape had both tried to talk to her. Since Peter had died, not even twenty-four hours ago, all she did was stare at the ground and rock methodically back and forth. She used to be fearless. She was a hardened Auror. Sirius wondered how long it would take her to snap out of this trance. Would she ever fully come out of it?

                "I've had only marginal success," Snape announced, not looking at Sirius as he came in. He was scribbling something hurriedly.

                "Which is?" Sirius asked, still eyeing Arabella with unease.

                "She says that she found the girl in a lake," Snape said, repeating the cryptic words with a futile air.

                Sirius furrowed his brow and gave the nonsensical phrase some thought. "A lake…loch? Could she mean a loch?" Sirius stopped pacing and stared at Snape.

                "Ravenclaw's castle," Snape agreed. "Did you see her pull anyone out of the water?"

                Sirius shook his head.

                Both were silent for a moment.

                It was Arabella who broke the silence first. She sounded very lucid and not in the least as crazy as they had thought she was. Her face was red and she hadn't stopped crying since Sirius had pulled her screaming out of Azkaban. But there was a determination in her eyes and permeated her voice that was very much characteristic of Arabella. "Is she well enough to leave? I think she should come home with me."

                "Ah," Snape said, sharing a momentary glance with Sirius. "Arabella," he continued, "That may not be the best of ideas, seeing as you are half the reason she is in the infirmary to begin with. Besides, she is not well enough."

                "She has a job to do. Or she goes to prison."

                "Lucy isn't going anywhere, Arabella. I don't know what you were thinking—," Sirius began, his voice rising with anger.

                Snape stood. "Black! This isn't the time or the place."

                Sirius ignored him. "She could have died. Didn't you care about that at all? What possessed you?"

                Arabella stood. "It was the only way. Malfoy knows something. He wanted Peter dead. He…it was the only way!"

                "She stays here." Snape broke through their argument decisively. "Arabella, you should go home and rest. We'll let you know when she's ready to talk, though I doubt she possesses the information you were looking for. Malfoy isn't that stupid."

                "I don't think she should stay at the school." Sirius looked pointedly at Snape. "He's gotten in easily enough before. If she does know something, he'll be looking for her. He knows the wards to this school, knows how they work. Need I remind you what kind of disaster resulted the last time he attacked the school?"

                Snape knew he was right. Lucius Malfoy had broken down the school's nearly infallible wards in order for Voldemort to strike. Mass death of students and teachers resulted. "What do you suggest, Black? That we pack her up and send her home?"

                Sirius took a deep breath. If Snape were in a taunting mood, he would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him annoyed. "I suggest she stays with me. There are wards over my house. He wouldn't even think to look for her there. Plus, she'll have someone her age around. I think it would be good for her. Maybe she'll start talking again."

                Snape took a moment to consider this. It was evident from his expression that he didn't like the prospect. "I blame you for what happened to that child as much as I blame Arabella and her father. What makes you think that I'll consent?"

                "It's not your place to consent or object. I've already spoken to Dumbledore and he thinks that it is best." Sirius moved to take Arabella by the arm and lead her out of the office. "I'll take her home."

                "I'm warning you, Black. One wrong move where that child is concerned and—," Snape began, but was cut off by Arabella.

                "Oh will you stop it!" she raged. "Both of you! Nothing is going to happen to her."

                Snape did as he was told. Arabella, Sirius thought, was the only one to have that effect over him.

                Sirius left without another word, Arabella in tow, shutting the door behind him.

                "Are you going to tell me what this was really about, or are you just going to play crazy to avoid the issue?" Sirius snapped as he and Arabella left the school.

                "I already told you. Lucy agreed to inform on Minister Grey. She seemed very excited by the job. We didn't know what to do with her. Her father wasn't aware that she had survived and we didn't think that it would be wise for him to find out. He would just come after her again, she said."

                "Why?" Sirius asked, impatiently.

                "Because, she said that she had spied on him in the past. He nearly killed her once before that for listening in on one of their many secret meetings. But, she offered an alternative to prison." Arabella paused a moment at the gates and turned to Sirius. The wind was howling and she was eager to get out of the storm, but there were things that he needed to know. "I didn't know that it would turn out like this. I seriously thought it was under control."

                "Well, it wasn't. She was hurt pretty badly. I want to know what it was all for," Sirius said harshly.

                "Peter told me, when I went to visit him—," Arabella began.

                "I told you not to."

                "I know. But I did." Arabella leveled an incredulous glare at him. "He mentioned a few things that he knew Lucius Malfoy was getting up to."

                "And?" Sirius urged, fighting the cold.

                "I was right about the rash of child abductions. Peter in so much as told me that it was Malfoy's doing." Arabella had a fleeting look of triumph on her face. "The fact that he attacked her as much as confirms that he told her his plans before he found out who she was."

                "That was a pretty dangerous game you played," Sirius scolded.

                Arabella nodded, penitent. "I didn't mean for her to get hurt."

                "I know you didn't, but she did, Arabella."

                They stood there for a moment and then Apparated to the warmth of Arabella's London home.

***

                Draco avoided the fencing room, even though it was the only place he could properly think. Every time, it seemed that he picked up a sword, his father would appear shortly after. He had no desire to see his father. In fact, he was only here to pick up a few things. Then, he would be on his way. This was too logical a place. His father was sure to turn up sooner or later.

                He pulled back the drapes over the drawing room window and looked out. The clouds threatened snow any minute now. He wouldn't mind if his cloak was thick enough. He couldn't spend another moment in doors.

                A few steps down the avenue of large and barren oaks the snow started to fall. Draco pulled his cloak tighter around him and continued on. He had decided that he should go to his grandmother's house—well, actually it was his house now. It was getting precarious staying at Malfoy Manor, especially if his father was looking for him. Draco would move on in a couple of days. And after a short stay in France, who knew where he would end up. It was looking less and less likely that he would ever see Ginny again. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

                He had convinced himself that she felt nothing for him, only guilt. It was easier that way, he reasoned.

                He stopped abruptly a little further down the path. He'd now become oblivious to the cold. He could only stare at the sight before him. It filled him with the greatest rage and disgust. Only one person could be responsible for this—his father.

                His breaths came in short gasps as he ran the rest of the way. In front of him lay his mother's grave, the headstone half covered in snow. Next to her was Lucy's headstone and a freshly dug hole in the snow and earth. There was no coffin, no body.

                His expelled breath beat out soft white clouds in the air, dissipating quickly on the frigid wind. He didn't know what to think, how to react. He stood there, looking on the scene in horror. It was some sort of gruesome message. His father was trying to tell him something.

                Well, if he wanted me to listen, Draco thought, he was going about it the entirely wrong way. Draco's hatred for the man he had worshipped not long ago was nearly solidified.

                Backing away slowly from the sight where his sister used to rest next to his mother, Draco clenched his fists and determined that he would leave immediately. Only he would not run from his father. He would wait for him in France.

                There was nothing Lucius Malfoy could say that would convince him now. It was time he told him so. There would be no more vacillating between right and wrong, good and evil. He belonged in neither camp, but he belonged to his father no more. He would tell him and then he would leave.

***

                "Harry, dear. Visiting hours are over, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey announced as she came around the curtain to see that he was still there. Her patient was awake, but still said nothing. "We have to change your bandages now, love."

                Imogen held out a hand silently, where gauze was wrapped around her forearm. She smiled slightly as Harry got up to leave.

                "I suspect you will be well enough to leave the hospital tomorrow," the nurse said with a cheerful air.

                "Leave?" Imogen asked.

                "Ah! I'm glad to see that you haven't lost the ability to speak. You're just fooling everyone," the nurse winked at her as she undid one bandage after another.

                "I don't want to have explain things yet," Imogen answered sheepishly.

                "I completely understand. I won't tell a soul," Madam Pomfrey agreed.

                "Am I being sent home?" Imogen asked in a rather displeased tone.

                "Oh, certainly not."

                "Can I not stay here? I know I'm not technically a student here, but—," Imogen said, sitting up and then wincing at the pain she had caused her slowly healing back.

                "Careful, dear. No, the Headmaster doesn't think it wise that you stay here. But he has offered an alternative, if it is agreeable to you."

                "What's that?" Imogen asked suspiciously. She would rather live on the streets than with Arabella again, if that was the alternative. 

                "Mr. Black has offered to take you in for the holiday, if you'll agree to it," Madam Pomfrey said with a smile, knowing that this alternative would be well received.

                Imogen just smiled and nodded, though smiling hurt her cheek very much, she couldn't help the reaction to the news.

                "Good, then you're all settled. I'll let the Headmaster and Mr. Black know of your consent." The nurse bustled off leaving Imogen to herself. Slowly, she got to her feet, her linen nightgown falling to her ankles. She placed a tentative foot forward until she came to stand next to the window, placing her hands on the sill for support. She caught the sight of two people in conversation at the edges of the school's grounds, Sirius and Arabella.

                As she watched them pass the gates and Apparate away, she set to the arduous task of putting her scrambled and fuzzy thoughts in order. She had to explain everything to Harry. The more time that passed in silence, the less she was sure that he would forgive her for her secrets.

***

                Ginny stood along the shore, her cloak whipping wildly around her. Staring out along the fathomless blue, she saw a small fishing boat out on the horizon.

                There was a chilly mist in the air that made her shiver.

                She was at the end of hope. He had not been at his grandmother's house as she thought he might. It had been only the glimmer of a hope, but now she was certain that she would never see him again, even though his letter had promised that she would.

                He left her again. One moment there were promises of forever and the next moment she had turned her head and he was gone. It was the same when he had found her in Ravenclaw's castle. She had thought she was going to die. He brought her from utter despair to overflowing joy and relief. And then he had pushed her away almost as quickly. He had ceased to care when he thought she had betrayed him. If it hadn't been that, it would always be something. Their relationship was doomed to be an impermanent and painful one.

                Perhaps he had realized this before she had. Choosing to break from this before it became too overwhelming, too strong to deny. Draco had left her and maybe for the last time.

                She realized all of this. So, why was she still standing here? Why was she still searching? Why couldn't she let go, as he had? Was it that she was too weak?

                Lost in her thoughts she didn't even hear the padding of horses' hooves in the wet beach sand.

                "What are you doing here?" Draco asked.

                She spun around, completely caught off guard. Her wet hair clung to her face as she looked up at him. Emil cocked his ears and whinnied, shifting his weight impatiently. Draco's horse even acted like him sometimes.

                "I thought I said that you should stay with your family. Ginny, you're not safe here," Draco said with stern conviction. He looked angry.

                "I thought you would at least be glad to see me," she said, disappointed.

                "I'm not," he answered decidedly. "You should go."

                "What?" Ginny said, wide-eyed and dripping. She was shivering, but she ignored it. "So, that's how it is? I should leave and you'll leave and we'll never see each other again."

                "Yes, that's how it is," Draco answered decidedly, looking out onto the water instead of at her pleading eyes.

                "So, this was a lie?" Ginny asked, holding out the letter that he had written her. "Your promise. You lied. You were never intending to come back?"

                "I was. But, I can't now."

                "Why?" Ginny was immovable. Her eyes demanded of him an explanation—a valid one.

                "Because…I think you should just go, Ginny," Draco faltered.

                "No."

                "Fine, then I will." He dug his heel into Emil's flank and spurred him forward. Ginny watched him round the beachhead and jump a fence behind the stable.

                Ginny set her jaw and went after him. He wouldn't walk out on her again.

***

                Sirius left Arabella pouring herself a glass of wine in the kitchen. He followed her directions to the room Lucy had been occupying. He found nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like a room inhabited by a fourteen-year-old. He wasn't sure what he had hoped to find. Any hint of what she knew about her father. None of them knew enough of his plans to stop him. Only she knew and she wasn't talking.

                He saw a caldron in one corner, but thought nothing of this as Arabella had mentioned her interest in experimental potions. The Polyjuice experiment she had been working on explained a lot. That was how she was disguising herself so flawlessly as Imogen, Ruthie and finally Elena. She was a surprisingly clever girl. Hermione definitely had a rival in her.

                He went to the desk where he found her notes, an entire thesis on her experiment. He picked it up along with several other notes and books related to her experiments. No doubt she would want these back, but first he would see if Snape could make anything out of them.

                "Arabella, I might have found something useful. I need Snape to look over a few notes of hers. Will you be all right by yourself for a wh—," Sirius stopped in his tracks, dropping all of Lucy's notes which scattered around his feet.

                Arabella lay on the kitchen floor. An arm protruding from around the corner was all of her that Sirius was able to see from his spot in the hall. But that arm was all he needed to see to tell she was in trouble. It was split, cut from the wrist to the elbow in one decisive slash. It was bleeding freely. The floor around her was a puddle of red.

                Sirius forced himself to move.

                He came around the corner and into the kitchen, dropping beside Arabella who wasn't moving. He brushed the large kitchen knife aside—her apparent weapon of choice, and felt for a pulse.

***

                She followed the sounds down the hall. It was a piano. If she were a student of music she might even be able to pick out the tune. She rounded the corner, where the music had terminated and Draco sat there unmoving on the bench. He didn't turn to face her but she knew her presence had been detected.

                "Why don't you just go?" he asked in an almost defeated tone.

                "Because, I don't give up as easily as you," Ginny said, raising her chin defiantly.

                He turned to face her, leveling cold gray eyes on her that made her shiver. "I could make you go. You have no idea what I am capable of."

                "Empty threat. I'm not afraid of you." Ginny moved into the room. She was aware that she was dripping, but politeness would have to wait a moment.

                "You should be. Imogen was," Draco said, turning to his piano again and playing to ignore her.

                Ginny walked decidedly over to him, slamming the keyboard shut with a cacophonous clang, nearly catching Draco's fingers in it. He favored her with a furious scowl.

                "What does that mean? Why was Imogen afraid of you?" Ginny asked. Draco got up from the bench and walked to the fire. "Don't walk away from me Draco-I-don't-know-your-middle-name-but-if-I-did-this-would-sound-more-threatening Malfoy!" she stomped one foot indignantly.

                He stopped and turned, a look of unexpected amusement on his face. He began to laugh.

                "Don't you laugh, I'm mad at you!" she raged.

                He just blinked and called to a house elf that lurked in the doorway. "Take Miss Weasley up to Lucy's room. Find something dry for her to wear. That will be all."

                The elf began to shoo Ginny out of the room.

                "Were not done yet," she threatened as the elf took her by the hand and led her down the hall.

                "We are for the moment," Draco called after her, apparently pleased to have finally gained the upper hand.

                She found him in the same room playing the piano again. She was no longer dripping. Her hair was pulled out of her face in a wet knot and she was in dry pajamas. She no longer felt angry with him and decided that it had been because she was damp and cold.

                She stopped behind him. He hadn't noticed her come in and continued playing. She watched his elegant fingers in wonder. He played beautifully and, though she had never much taken the time to appreciate music before, when he played she was in awe.

                "That was beautiful," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

                He didn't turn around, but she knew he was smiling. His hand moved to cover hers—recognition of momentary truce.

                "That was our song, mine and Lucy's. It sounds better when she plays," Draco replied in a small voice. "It's Lucas, by the way."

                "What is?" Ginny asked, perplexed.

                "My middle name."

                "Oh, good to know."

                He turned to face her. He stared at her for a very long moment. It should have been awkward. Ginny was never one to appreciate undivided attention. But it seemed natural somehow. He was frank and unassuming. He didn't judge her and he didn't look down on her. "Do you want to stay tonight?"

                Ginny favored him with a thoughtful stare for a moment. He should know about his sister. Indeed, that was her very reason for coming. But, somehow she felt that it wasn't her place to tell him. She didn't want to go home at the moment, either. "Yes," she said.

***

                "Go back to Arabella's. There are some notes there, on the floor in the front room that I dropped. I need them," Sirius said to Corbin.

                Corbin nodded and turned to leave.

                "Oh, one more thing," Sirius said urgently.

                "Yes?" Corbin offered.

                "Send word to Harry that he and Imogen are to take the train to London in the morning and I'll meet them at King's Cross."

                "Got it," Corbin said, scribbling this down on a scrap of paper and pocketing it.

                "And, Corbin," Sirius added.

                "What is it?" Corbin asked again, in as good-natured a tone as the hospital scene and the palpable stress of the situation would allow. They were all worried for Arabella, but none handled it so well as he did.

                "Thank you," Sirius offered.

                Corbin placed an understanding hand on his shoulder and then left to expedite his instructions.

                Sirius sat with the unconscious Arabella and prayed that he wouldn't lose another of his friends. He had been angry with her and she had tried to kill herself. He knew that she was taking Peter's death hard. He was too. But her way of dealing with it had been this. Sirius wondered how she could have justified taking her own life when she of all people knew how precious it was. She had daily experienced death and loss. Her brother Mundungus, Remus, James and Lily and now Peter. He couldn't make sense out of this as much as he tried. If she was losing her grip, there was little hope that the rest of them could hold on much longer.

***

                "I know. It's Ellen," Draco replied simply.

                "How did you know my middle name?" Ginny asked, lifting her head from where it rested on his shoulder.

                "I heard one of your brothers shouting at you in that hall at school one time," Draco explained.

                "Percy? That was an awful long time ago," Ginny said.

                "It stuck with me. I thought it was beautiful."

                "You're a liar," Ginny decided.

                Draco smiled, "I never claimed to be anything else."

                Ginny pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and shifted her weight on the sofa. "Draco?"

                "What?"

                "What happened between you and Imogen? You left that same evening and the next day, she left to." Ginny stared expectantly at him.

                He looked very much like he didn't want to answer that, but plunged ahead anyway. "My father was at the school that night. He wanted a book that he was sure she had taken from our house. He wanted me to get it back."

                "And did you?" Ginny asked, yawning.

                "I didn't want to. But, I did. She wasn't very willing to part with it and so I hit her," Draco said, his voice was infused with self-loathing.

                 "You did that?" Ginny asked, astonished.

                "Yes. That's why I left. I know my father won't stop there. I don't want him to hurt you—either of you. And I don't want him to use me to do it either. That's why you can't follow me," Draco stared pointedly at her.

                "Don't I get a say in what I can and can't do?"

                "No," Draco said instantly, but placated her with a kiss.

                She yawned again and laid her head back on his shoulder. "But, I'm here now."

                "Yes, you're here now," Draco said with regret.

                Sometime in the hours before dawn, Draco awoke. He knew he couldn't stay any longer. He had decided that he wouldn't run. But, he couldn't stay with her. He wanted to very much, but there was no possible way that this could work.

                He watched her while she slept for a few moments and then picked himself up off of the sitting room sofa. Covering her with the blanket, he whispered close to her ear, "Tante que je vis je t'aimerai."

                He kissed her cheek and left, much in the same way that he had left her only a few days ago. She wouldn't find him again, however. And he had made no promises this time.

                He shut the door quietly and was gone.

                "As long as I live, I will love you." The words registered somewhere in her consciousness, bringing her out of sleep, but too late.

                He was gone. And once again, she was alone.

***

                The train rocked gently and Imogen watched as the gentle movement caused Harry to sway as he slept. He hadn't slept in days. He had spent most of that week sitting up with her. Madam Pomfrey had been very indulgent of the two and teased her, calling them "little love birds." How untrue that name had been.

                She was having a hard time trying to decide just exactly what they were. She couldn't even speak to him, as ridiculous as that sounded.

                A nervous feeling arose in her stomach as she thought about it. There would be no avoiding the truth. How much longer could she avoid it?

                Slowly Harry's head drifted and fell to her shoulder as the train clanged rhythmically over the tracks.

                She heaved a painful sigh.

                What would he think of her when he finally knew?