Disclaimer: I own my characters. Rowling owns hers and I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Author's Note: All scripture was taken from the New International Version. Me no likie the KJV!
Thanks To: Oliverwoodsgirl who continues to be my number one reviewer. Thanks so much for your constant encouragement.
Hibiscus: You know, a few chapters ago you asked if Gabriel was Remus's child. That was very creative of you and I am sorry to say that my mind does not work in the obviously complex way that yours seems to. Gabriel's past is, I'm sorry to say, a little more contrived than that.
Chapter 15
Morning Star
"I don't want to talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you are around
Cause blood in my mouth is better than blood on the ground…"
Incubus: 'Blood On The Ground'
"Have you seen my sister, Ginny?" a voice called from the compartment door.
Imogen was startled out of her thoughts and shook her head at Ron.
Ron walked unceremoniously into the compartment and kicked Harry who was asleep next to her.
He awoke somewhat startled, more tousle-haired than normal. "What?" he asked in a slightly hassled voice.
"Ginny's not on the train," Ron said simply.
"She has to be," Harry said. "Where is Hermione? Maybe Ginny is with her."
Ron leveled impatient eyes on his friend. "Hermione went to ask the baggage attendant if Ginny's trunk is onboard."
Harry furrowed his brow. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"Hermione says that she saw her yesterday at lunch."
They both looked to Imogen who shrugged.
Ron walked out, frustrated and Harry followed.
Imogen took out a worn copy of Tale of Two Cities and attempted to occupy herself. She knew that Ginny would turn up eventually.
Harry returned to the compartment only five minutes before the train pulled into the station.
"Did you find her?" Imogen asked, looking over the spine of her book.
Harry shook his head distractedly and pulled Hedwig's cage down from the overhead compartment.
"Come on, Fang," Imogen said, nudging the sleeping dog gently with one foot.
She pulled her cloak on and took Hedwig from Harry, handing him Fang's lead instead.
They met Ron and Hermione out on the platform and it wasn't long before Molly, Arthur and Sirius found them in the holiday crowd.
Molly looked around with utter worry and alarm on her face. Rounding on Ron, she asked, "Where is Ginny?"
***
Ginny's heart fell in disappointment as she realized that she had been dreaming. In the earlier part of the morning she thought she heard Draco's voice, promising her that as long as he lived, he would love her. And it was just that: a dream. He was gone and she was left alone—again.
She pushed herself up slowly from the sofa and rubbed her aching neck. How long had she been asleep for? Had she missed the train?
"Good morning, or should I say afternoon?" a cold voice said from behind her, freezing her with fear.
Ginny turned slowly to see Lucius Malfoy sitting at the bench Draco had sat at the night before when he'd played Frank Sinatra's 'Fly Me To The Moon' for her.
She couldn't bring herself to utter a word. She just stood in horror.
He smiled back at her. "Speechless, are you? I must say, you Gryffindors are none of you too smart." He favored her with a smirk. "What luck is mine that I come looking for my son and instead find the one person that can answer all of my dire questions." He turned to the piano and placed his long and elegant fingers on the keys. They looked exactly like Draco's hands.
Something inside of Ginny was loosened by his unassuming air. He didn't seem to want to hurt her—at the moment at least.
"What makes you think I'll cooperate?" Ginny asked, taking the blanket she was clutching and wrapping it around her. She lifted her chin defiantly and held her ground, glaring at him as he played.
Lucius shook his head and continued playing. "I don't think you will. Don't be so presumptuous." He played as well as his son, but with less feeling and more mechanical drive.
"I won't tell you willingly, whatever it is. Voldemort tried. He said that I couldn't be forced. A seer cannot be forced to tell what they see."
"That is not entirely true or false. He was always a bit of a blunderer in my honest and humble opinion." Lucius glanced at her momentarily and winked.
"I wasn't aware that you possessed anything honest or humble," Ginny shot back.
"Very true," Lucius conceded. "He had a bit of a soft spot where you were concerned. He gave you a choice." He stopped and looked at the girl standing behind the sofa frankly. "I will not be so generous. I cannot make you see. But I can get into your memory, where you store the images that you have already seen."
"Memory Charms?" Ginny asked with a shudder.
"Yes," he answered with a grin of purest evil. "Let's sit and have a chat, like two civilized people. You don't need to stand on formality with me, Virginia. May I call you Virginia?"
"Whatever you want, Lucius," Ginny said, sitting back on the couch again as Lucius took the chair across from her.
"Ah, that's nice. We're friends already," he said with the same mocking grin.
Ginny only raised her eyebrows in response. There's a friend you don't bring home to meet your parents, she thought.
"You think me evil, don't you? I am. Don't think you're going to get away this time. You aren't playing with Voldemort anymore, child. This is serious," he said.
Ginny looked at him with eyes that showed no hint of her terror. "But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness; they do not know what makes them stumble," Ginny quoted. She believed this, it gave her strength.
Lucius laughed. "I believe you are catching on, child. Psalms 4:19. That is exactly why I need your help and why you are going to help me."
"I will not," Ginny replied evenly.
"I think you will," he decided, surveying her with malicious intent. "Go on. Test me again."
Ginny thought for a moment. There were many pertinent verses to this conversation. "An evil man is bent only on rebellion; a merciless official will be sent against him."
"Psalms seventeen verse eleven. You really believe that, don't you?"
He stared at her for several uncomfortable minutes. "I can see in your eyes that you do. A vain hope, Virginia. He is no match for me."
"Then why do you need me?" Ginny asked, turning the tables. "You just said that you need me so that you won't stumble. You believe it too, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Lucius stood, eyeing her menacingly. "Another," he commanded.
Ginny sighed. This was worse than torture. The anticipation of torture was always far worse. She cursed herself for getting into this situation, cursed Draco for leaving her. "How you are fallen from heaven," she began watching a gratified smile flash across Lucius' face. "O Morning Star, sun of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stairs of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly…'"
He leaned over her, one arm resting on the back of the sofa behind her head and one beside her on its arm, trapping her. "And so I shall. That is my particular favorite. Isaiah fourteen verses twelve and thirteen. Where did you learn to quote scripture?"
"My grandparents," Ginny answered.
"Adelaide Connelly?" he asked.
Ginny nodded, cowering beneath him.
"A remarkable woman. I have heard of her. Tom Riddle seemed to worship her in his school days." He favored her with another look, half admiration half impatience. "Morning Star, hmm? Though I appreciate the complement, Miss Weasley, flattery will get you nowhere with me."
He removed his wand before Ginny had the chance to react. She was plunged into oblivion in a fraction of a second. She remembered nothing after that.
***
"Harry, you and Imogen are to go with Mrs. Weasley," Sirius explained. "I will be back to get you by dinner time and then we can go home."
Harry nodded without a word as he watched Mr. Weasley and Sirius walk off in the opposite direction, toward the Ministry.
"Come on then," Molly said, herding the others off in the direction of the taxis.
Harry heard Hermione a few steps behind him trying to console Ron. "It's not your fault. She'll turn up."
At the Burrow, Molly explained to a worried Bill and Fred that Ginny had gone missing.
Imogen tried to stay out of the way and finally found a spot in the corner of the kitchen where she wouldn't be obtrusive. She watched with interest the people in the crowded room, Bill who moved toward Ron and smacked him upside the back of the head and began yelling at him. "Exactly how do you go for more than twenty-four hours without seeing your sister?"
"Ow!" Ron replied indignantly. "She's been in the infirmary with her for the past week." Ron pointed to Imogen unexpectedly. Imogen in turn blinked and stared shell shocked at the room full of eyes on her. She fidgeted and offered a small smile.
"Have you been ill, dear?" Molly asked in an overly motherly tone.
"I'm better now, thanks," Imogen said in a mouse's voice.
She was thankful when no more questions were thrown at her and the conversation turned once again to tea, dinner and an irresponsible Ron.
"This is going to throw the wedding into all kinds of chaos if she doesn't turn up by dinner," Molly raged, clanging a pot down on the stove.
"Mum, sit down. I'll make dinner," Bill offered. He ushered his frazzled mother into a nearby chair.
Taking a napkin off of the sideboard, she began to cry into it, covering her face. "She's God only knows where. It's getting dark. I hope she's not hurt. What if she's scared?"
Hermione came to sit next to her, placing an arm around her trembling shoulders.
"She'll turn up, Mrs. Weasley," she promised.
Imogen got up silently from the scene and tip-toed into the front room. She couldn't take anymore. She had a guess at where Ginny had gone. But if Ginny hadn't told anybody where she was going then it was no place of hers to speculate.
She relished in the peace of the adjacent room as the tones of the others were gradually muted. They talked of canceling a wedding and who's fault it was this time that Ginny was gone.
She scanned the wall opposite the front door. It was filled with family portraits and other, more random, snapshots. Imogen smiled. It must have been nice to grow up being part of this family.
"Why are you hiding?" Harry asked, coming into the room behind her. He moved over to where she stood and examined the same picture that had her attention. She felt his arm slide around her waist and winced slightly. "You don't like them?"
"Careful, my ribs still hurt," she said out of reflex.
"Sorry," Harry muttered sheepishly and then withdrew his hand.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. Who is this?" Imogen asked, changing the subject. She kicked herself for saying the wrong thing. He seemed to be walking on thin ice around her anyway and she had just made it worse.
"That's George. I think you were at school his last year there," Harry answered. "And that is his fiancée, Anni. She also happens to be my cousin."
Imogen brightened and smiled at him. "Cousin? Do I get to meet her?"
"You get to meet my entire family if you come with me to their wedding," Harry offered timidly. He only met her eyes reluctantly but was relieved to see her smile remained.
"Harry Potter, are you asking me to be your date?" she asked.
"Well…yes. That is, if it's not canceled by Ginny's disappearance."
"I don't have a dress," she frowned suddenly.
"That's okay," Harry began, "I have to be fitted tomorrow with Ron. Part of the wedding party and all. You can come too and look around while we're there."
"Where?" Imogen said, visibly intrigued by the prospect of shopping.
"London, of course," Harry shrugged.
"Muggle London?" she pressed.
"Yes," his eyes narrowed slightly, "Is that a problem for you?"
"No," Imogen laughed, "I haven't been shopping in Muggle London in years. Did you think that I would have a problem with Muggles?" She shook her head, "Way to perpetuate those stereotypes, Harry."
"Sorry. I guess I just wanted to make sure. My family is Muggle, you know," he admitted.
"Very cool," Imogen said. "But I guess all of that is beside the point if Ginny doesn't turn up."
"I know her. She will."
***
"At least it wasn't Bill that lost her this time," Fred said.
Bill shot him a look from the stove and Hermione kicked him hard in the shin under the table.
"Oh, I'm a bad mother!" Molly wailed into her napkin.
"No, mum. It was my fault entirely," Ron said, looking just as bad as he felt.
"Fred, don't tell your brother about this until tomorrow. I don't want him to be upset," Molly instructed, ignoring Ron.
"Nah, he's got the shop covered tonight anyway. He won't be home for another hour and a half. She'll be back before then." Fred was adamant and leaned across the table to pat his mother's arm.
"Where is your father?" she raged.
"Tea, mum," Bill said with a wink at Hermione and Ron. That usually meant in the Weasley household that it was spiked.
"Are they supposed to be doing that?" Fred asked, eyeing Crookshanks and Fang as they combated noisily by the door. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting, his head was held fast in Fang's massive jaws.
"They're just playing," Hermione explained.
Bill ignored all of them and busied himself with cutting broccoli. His attention wandered to the window where he noted absently that it had begun to snow again.
Focusing past the flakes that fell just outside the frosted glass, he noticed that the garden gate had been left open. He remembered specifically closing it behind the newcomers that afternoon.
All was explained as he took a harder look beyond the gate. Ginny was laying just off the path. She wasn't moving.
He threw down the knife, which clanged to the floor as he flung the back door open and ran down the path. Fred was just behind him.
***
Ginny dug her feet into the wet sand. They were nearly frozen, like the rest of her.
She stared blankly at the water. The sky was a back-lit canopy of indigo. The sun had set.
The wind whipped around her, biting at her bare hands, fingers, toes and cheeks. The icy surf beat against her ankles, soaking the hems of her borrowed pajamas.
She was cold but she thought nothing of it. Terror was fighting for dominion over her senses and was winning. The last thing she remembered was her dream. It wasn't like a normal dream. It was more or less just a voice, Draco's voice. He had promised her everything. When she had awakened, she realized that he had taken it all away when he had left her—for the last time. She wouldn't see him again.
The rest was a blank. How was it that she had lost an entire day?
She turned and with growing confusion noted the glowing white cliffs that trapped her against the water's edge. How had she ended up in Dover?
Oblivious to the chilly mist in the air, her wet and freezing hair, she bent to pick her wand up out of the sand. She nearly fell from dizziness and had to race the surf that wished to claim her wand.
She blinked once more, hopping that some glimmer of remembrance would come to her. But there was none.
She sniffed back tears of helplessness and fright and Apparated to the village limits of Ottery St. Catchpole. As this was one of the few pure wizarding communities left in Great Britain, wards were in place to prevent Apparating into its limits. One could Apparate in short distances once inside the wards, but not from without.
She tucked her wand in the waistband of her pink flowered pajama pants and walked the small main thoroughfare for ten blocks.
She finally caught sight of her house on the hill. Warm light emanated from the windows. Ginny sighed in relief and exhaustion as she urged her frozen and numb limbs just a little further. She felt so tired and so cold. She sank into comforting darkness as she pushed the garden gate open, leaning on it for support. She fell and felt the distant pain in her knees as they struck gravel, but she didn't mind. She was home.
Bill spoke to her, called her name. But she didn't respond. Her eyelids, covered in delicate snowflakes were shut and would not open in response. She was cold to the touch, he realized as he lifted her from the gravel path and rushed her into the house. Fred held the door open for him and looked on in shock. That was pretty much the consensus expression of everyone in the room.
Molly cried out in relief and then horror as the condition of her youngest child became clear to her.
Hermione held Ron's hand as he looked on guiltily.
Harry and Imogen watched silently from the doorway of the next room.
Bill disappeared up the stairs and into the room on the first landing. Molly went directly after him.
The rest were silent, eyes on the floor.
Bill returned to the kitchen moments later without a word.
An hour chimed by on the clock.
"Hey guys. What's up?" George said as he came through the door and brushed the snow from his cloak. "Ron, Harry, guess who was in the store today?"
No one answered him and only Hermione noted his entry. "What's wrong with you people? Have I died?" He asked, perplexed. He looked to Imogen and furrowed his brow, "Who are you?"
"George," Fred called, moving into the next room. George gave one last fleeting look at the inhabitants of the kitchen and then followed him.
Sirius and Arthur were the next two to enter. "No luck. We've filed a missing persons…but," Mr. Weasley shrugged. Worry painted his face.
"She's here, dad," Bill said and noted the look on his father's face fade into relief.
"Is she all right?" he asked urgently.
"Fine. Mum's got her upstairs," he said, fussing over dinner. He was more like his mother than any of them. When in doubt, cook!
Sirius sat down at the table. "Where was she?"
Ron shrugged. The others stared. Bill cooked.
"No one knows?" Arthur said with growing anxiety.
"She ended up unconscious in the garden," Bill explained. "I'm sure she'll tell us when she wakes up."
"Dude, this place is so cool!" an amused voice called from the front room. Anni appeared moments later and removed her ski jacket, shaking snow from her half-curly half-spiked hair. "I just ran into this guy out on the street when I stepped out of the taxi. I thought he was homeless at first. But he was trying to sell me dragon's toenails or something."
"You shouldn't talk to those people, Anni," Bill admonished, not turning around. "He was probably a black marketer."
"He had like this fake pirate accent. And I thought he was neat and so I asked him how much. He was all, 'Argh, lassie. For you ahl cut it halfway. Two sickles.' What's the conversion rate on that anyway? I don't even carry wizarding money."
Most of the room ignored her but Imogen was staring in wide-eyed, gaping-mouth wonder. "That's your cousin?" she mouthed to Harry.
"Hi! I'm Anni," she said, moving to shake the hand of the shell-shocked and speechless girl.
"This is Imogen," Harry answered for her.
"So, you comin' to my wedding? It should be a kick-ass time," Anni asked.
Imogen still hadn't found her voice.
"I've invited her. I don't know if she's accepted yet," Harry answered again.
"I'm going to give Molly a hand," Arthur said, excusing himself.
Sirius sipped his tea. "Anni, come and sit down. You're making all of us nervous," he sighed.
"What's going on?" she asked, looking between Sirius and Bill.
***
"Will she be all right?" Anni asked Molly as everyone sat down finally to dinner.
"Yes, love. She's just resting now." Molly looked hassled but hid it well.
Imogen watched her the most out of all of the Weasleys. There were few similarities to this woman and her own mother. She reminded her more of her grandmother whom she was missing very much. She also kept a wary eye on Ron who seemed to take pleasure in glaring at her.
She would have to corner him sometime and find out what the deal was.
"So, Imogen," Arthur asked with a smile, "What House do you belong to at school?"
Imogen opened her mouth to answer, but Ron had beat her to it. "She's a Slytherin." It wasn't kindly meant.
He jumped slightly and shot a sideways glance at Hermione. Imogen took this to mean that he'd received a deserving kick under the table.
"I've always wanted to know where your common rooms are," Arthur continued good-naturedly.
"You and every other Gryffindor," Imogen smiled and winked. Arthur blushed.
"I know," Sirius chimed in with a devilish grin.
"You're lying," Imogen challenged.
"Ah, no, Miss Spencer. You are talking to one of the illustrious creators of the Marauder's Map," George said.
"The what?" Anni asked. Imogen was thankful that she wasn't the only one that this sounded like gibberish to.
"It's a map of the school," Fred elaborated.
"It shows every living thing with convenient little labels, secret passages, etc."
"Which reminds me," Fred turned to Sirius and asked, "We found it in Filch's office. Which of you got it taken away?"
Sirius put down his fork and turned to Imogen and Anni, sitting next to each other. Both were listening attentively. "Remus, Peter, James and I were constantly finding new and improved ways for breaking the rules," As a side note he turned to Harry and Ron and said, "disregard everything I am saying at the moment." Ron nodded and Harry smiled. "This was one of our most precious implements of mischief. We wrote it—well, Remus and Peter wrote it in our fifth year at school." He turned to Fred and George and answered, "We didn't get it taken away. Lily turned it in to Filch in our seventh year."
"Women," Fred said with a mournful shake of the head.
"No, she was all right for a girl," Sirius admitted. "She actually was a lot like that one there," Sirius said with a smile, pointing to Hermione who sat quietly at the end of the table.
She looked up and beamed. "I wouldn't do a thing like that though," she said.
Ron coughed and Harry snorted.
"I wouldn't," she argued, looking sternly at the two.
"Firebolt," Ron coughed again.
"It was for your own good though," she said.
Molly changed the subject, mostly because she hadn't been listening to the prior conversation. "Sirius?"
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked.
"How is Arabella doing?"
Sirius tensed a little. "She'll be able to leave the hospital tomorrow. I'm taking her over to Remus' mother's house. I don't want her to be by herself. And, well…Mae is all alone on Christmas anyway."
"Very good for both of them. The poor dear." Molly shook her head and became quiet. "I'm going to check on Ginny," she said finally and left the table.
The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet. Molly returned after Bill, Anni and Imogen had cleared the dishes and said, "Imogen, dear. Ginny wants to speak to you."
Imogen said nothing. She followed Molly's instructions up to Ginny's room and entered tentatively.
"What happened?" Imogen asked, coming to sit next to Ginny on the bed.
"Honestly, I don't remember," Ginny said with huge eyes.
"Right." Imogen shook her head. "You show up, unconscious in the garden of your own home in my pajamas. And you don't remember what happened."
"You have to believe me," Ginny said.
"I will when you tell me the truth," Imogen said sternly.
Ginny bit her lip and decided to spill everything she knew. "After my last exam I came to visit you in the hospital, only Snape—well, that doesn't matter. I saw that you already had company and so I decided to look for Draco. I thought he might be at your grandmother's house."
"That'd be my guess. Why?" Imogen asked, still stern.
"Because," Ginny blushed momentarily bringing some color into her ghostly complexion, "he never said goodbye."
"He told me that he would before he left," Imogen insisted.
"He wrote a letter. I was asleep."
"You shouldn't have gone after him."
"I know. But I wanted to see him. I needed so badly to see him," Ginny said.
"And…did you?" she asked.
"Yes. It was raining. That's why I was wearing your things. I got wet," Ginny explained.
"Yeah, sure," Imogen said skeptically.
"Honestly, Lucy. I didn't do anything with your brother," Ginny swore.
"Shhh!" Imogen admonished, wide-eyed. "I haven't told him yet!"
"Yeah, you're Imogen. I get that. No one's listening to our conversation."
"Even so. Just be careful. And I don't want to hear what you've been getting up to with my brother. Any more pertinent information you can remember?"
Ginny thought for a moment. "We fell asleep around one in the morning. I woke up the next morning and he was gone." Ginny shrugged and shook her head. "That's it."
"And how long were you alone in my grandmother's house?" Imogen asked with growing alarm. She endeavored to keep an even expression. She didn't want to scare Ginny unnecessarily.
Ginny shrugged again. "I don't even remember leaving."
Imogen nodded.
There was a knock at the door and both girls turned to see Hermione peek her head through the door. "Imogen, Sirius and Harry are making ready to leave."
"Thank you," Imogen said with a smile.
"I brought you some tea," Hermione added, entering and setting a tray next to Ginny on the bed.
"Thanks, but what I'd really like is a bath."
Imogen stood. "Write me if you think of anything else," she said, bending to kiss Ginny on the forehead. She left her in Hermione's care and returned to the front room where she was being waited on.
Ron was still glaring, but Imogen ignored it.
***
"Hermione," Ginny began tentatively. "I think I'm going crazy." She scrubbed hard at her filthy feet and desperately tried to remember something new. She peeked her head outside of the shower curtain and favored Hermione with a tired stare. "Do you think I'm mad?"
"No," Hermione said from her spot leaning against the door. She sat on the rug and sipped at the tea that Ginny had refused. "I don't think you're mad, Ginny."
Ginny withdrew her head behind the curtain again and continued scrubbing. "It's just blank. I can't remember. It's scary."
"What's the last thing you do remember?"
Ginny bit her lip as she lathered her hair. She decided to tell. Hermione wouldn't betray her confidence. "I went to find Draco."
"You Apparated?" Hermione asked, it was more like a stating of fact.
"Yes, I did," Ginny replied simply.
"Did you find him?" Hermione continued.
"Yes."
"And…what happened?" Hermione urged.
There was a knock at the door and then Ron's voice called, "Gin, have you seen Hermione?"
"I'm here, Ron," Hermione answered.
There was a bit of hesitation. "What…you're both in there?"
Ginny began splashing around. "Early Christmas present. Can't two girls have a little fun without you interrupting?"
The was a disgusted howl from the other side of the door and then hurried footsteps.
Ginny peeked her head around the curtain and smiled deviously.
"I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do," Hermione said, trying to be as solemn as possible. Her face broke out into a huge grin.
"He knew I was joking…didn't he?" Ginny said.
"Fine, if you're not going to tell me the rest of the story, I understand. I have to go see what he wants," Hermione said, pushing off of the floor. She knew that Ginny was avoiding the truth. She had her way with secrets…but that never meant anything good.
***
Imogen padded silently down that stairs to where a light was glowing dimly in the kitchen. She knew that Harry was asleep and so the only one still up was Sirius. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning.
She came into the kitchen and saw that it was who she had thought. He was bent over stacks of legal papers and didn't notice her enter.
As she moved closer he looked up.
"Is something wrong?" he asked urgently.
"No. I couldn't sleep and I saw the light on," Imogen said. He briefly observed her socked feet and nightdress and smiled.
"You remind me of my sister," he said.
"You have a sister? Older or younger?" Imogen asked, taking a seat next to him. On closer inspection, she noticed that they were her files for patents and notes that he was examining. He knew about her Polyjuice experiments.
"Older. But, she's dead."
"Oh, sorry," Imogen offered. She brought a few of the papers in front of her and examined them. "You have them all mixed up," she chided.
"I dropped them. I found them in your room and brought them out to the kitchen and that's when I found her," Sirius explained.
"Here, let me," Imogen offered, setting to the task of organizing the notes again. She knew them all by heart and so this would be no difficult task. "I can't help feeling like I screwed up. I let them down."
"No, Lucy. You didn't screw up."
"Yes, I did. I was the only one who could help Peter. He knew what my father was up to. If I could have found out everything in time…we could have cleared him. And Arabella would never have tried to kill herself." She stopped and favored Sirius with a guilty frown.
"We all miss Peter. I know he was wrong, but I don't think anyone deserves to die. He was still my friend. I know I didn't act like it, but I still love him. I know that Remus and James do to. Friendship that strong doesn't die so quickly." Sirius leaned back in his chair.
Imogen stared at him for a long time and then wiped her eyes. "It must be hard to talk about them…to remember it all…like you did tonight. The Marauder's Map. You sounded inseparable then."
Sirius smiled. "We did everything together. James was the de facto leader, but it was Remus who was the brains behind every scheme. Anytime we managed to get into trouble though, Peter was always the willing scapegoat."
"And what part did you play?" Imogen asked over the shuffling of the paper.
Sirius thought about this for a moment and then shrugged. "I just liked being part of the group."
"I'm sorry I couldn't help Peter. And I'm sorry I couldn't help your friend Remus," Imogen said in a small voice.
"When did you ever know Remus?" Sirius asked with a furrowed brow.
"I never did. I was in Azkaban when he was killed."
"I nearly forgot about that," Sirius said, his eyes lighting with realization.
"I could have gotten to him…but I had to help my brother."
"There was nothing you could have done to help him. You couldn't have taken Peter on," Sirius said.
"No. But I could have countered the curse," she said hollowly, lost in the memory of that night.
"Curse?" Sirius asked sitting up straighter.
"The Imperious Curse. I saw Voldemort use it. I know all of the counter curses."
Sirius closed his eyes as if in prayer or deep contemplation. "Remus wouldn't have wanted you to choose him over your brother. He wouldn't have wanted Peter to die, either."
"But you did once?"
"I've personally tried to kill him twice," Sirius admitted.
"But he didn't hate you. He didn't hate anyone but himself," Imogen said.
"Perhaps," Sirius conceded. He changed topics just as quickly. "Did you ever know that Remus was a werewolf?"
Imogen wasn't shocked. "No. He doesn't seem the type."
"Met many werewolves, have you?" Sirius asked amusedly.
"I'm a Malfoy, am I not? Don't most people assume that we live in a dark castle and perform blood rituals and Satan worshipping?" she asked with a smile.
"Don't you?" Sirius continued with a wink.
"Well, maybe my father does," she smiled.
"I know Harry used to think along those lines. Probably not with such vivid imagery as you have brought to the table. But you changed his mind, I think." Sirius stared at Imogen.
She busied herself with her notes. "I can't tell him."
"Why? Don't you think he would understand?"
"I'm afraid," she admitted.
"That he won't look at you the same way he looked at Lucy. You haven't changed. You're still the same person," Sirius tried. He reached out and took her hand.
She set the notes aside and looked up at him. She had tears in her eyes. "I've done things that Lucy never would have done. D'you know what the first thing most people say to me when they meet me is?"
Sirius stared and shook his head.
"They say, 'you look like your mother'. I think if I were ever to be Lucy again, it would stomp on her memory. I can't be like her anymore."
"Dale would have wanted you whether or not you were like her. I can say that with authority. I knew her well."
Imogen blinked.
"Do you want to risk him finding out in some other way? He doesn't like being lied to," Sirius continued.
"I know I have to tell him. I just can't right now." Imogen got up from the table and left immediately for her room. She wouldn't get any sleep, but at least she could hide a little while longer.
