The Stained Glass Idyll – Chapter 1b
By Ellipsis and Shiva.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Most of this isn't ours. Some of it is. We are making no money. Steal and die!
Warnings: Angst, violence, torture, drug abuse, coarse language, adult themes and situations.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Summary: Ginny Weasley has watched Harry Potter save the world time and time again and wondered what it would be like. Draco Malfoy has watched the same and wished he could be the one to end Potter's winning streak. Ginny wants to make her mark on the world, Draco looses himself in the last place anyone would ever look for him.
Then Ginny accepts an assignment to hunt down the most dangerous Death Eater at large and when circumstances intervene she begins to realise that it may not be a world she needs to save.
Additional Notes: Well, here's the rest of it!
~~~~~
Ginny hitched the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder and knocked lightly on the glass door of the office of Ernest Wilberforce.
"Come in," a voice rasped. Ginny walked in, quietly shutting the door behind her and surveyed the office in front of her. It was small, about a quarter of the size of Kingsley's and equally as messy. The walls were bare, except for a picture of a woman and two young boys, presumably the Wilberforce family. In the center of the room, behind a cluttered desk, made out of cheap pine, the kind that all the less important Ministry officials were commissioned with, sat a middle-aged man, with graying hair and a weathered face.
"Mr. Wilberforce?" Ginny asked politely, moving closer to the desk.
The man stood up. "Yes that's right. You must be Miss Weasley. Please take a seat."
"Thanks," she replied, seating herself and placing her bag on the floor next to her.
"So," Mr. Wilberforce said, folding his arms across his chest, "You're the lucky Auror who gets to take up the Malfoy case?"
"Yes that's right," Ginny said, slightly put off by his cynical tone.
"I'm glad to be rid of it," he said matter-of-factly.
"Oh? Why is that?"
He leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk. "I take it you haven't been an Auror for very long Miss Weasley?"
Ginny nodded. "I joined the force a bit over two years ago."
"Well I've been an Auror for over thirty years, I've survived both the Voldemort wars and their aftermaths, which in many ways, is the hardest time for Aurors. During my time I have had several cases that have reached a complete dead end, where there were no leads and where no new information ever turned up. Cases that are so bloody frustrating, my hair goes grey just thinking about them. This is one of those cases. I'll be glad to wash my hands of it and get on with some work that may actually be able to produce results."
Ginny raised her eyebrows, taken aback. This was not what she wanted to hear. "Do you mean to say that I have been sent on some kind of wild goose chase?" she asked, a note of indignation clear in her voice.
Wilberforce opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, looking at her closely. "It is not my place to say Miss Weasley. I will say this though." He crossed his arms across his chest. "No one knows if Malfoy is dead, personally I think he is, or if he is alive, he is hidden by a practically impenetrable anti-tracking charm. He disappeared without a trace, as many of Voldemort's followers did after he was defeated, most of who have since been confirmed dead. I personally don't think you have a chance in hell of finding him, but I will help you in anyway I can."
Ginny leaned back in her chair, processing this information. "Okay," she said after a moment's silence, "What can you give me?"
Wilberforce smiled at the defiant look on her face. He opened the filling cabinet behind him and pulled out a thick folder and a small wooden box. He placed the file on the desk.
"This is for you," he said, nodding at the folder, "It contains everything you ever wanted to know about Malfoy and some things you didn't. A lot of the stuff is basic, though you may find some of it useful."
Ginny took the folder and flipped through it. He was right, it was completely comprehensive. There was a copy of Malfoy's birth certificate, a copy of his Hogwart's record—it turned out Malfoy was a decent student—as well as medical and criminal records, both of which were fairly lengthy, and his Apparation license.
"What's this?" she asked, holding out a page full of numbers.
"His bank records," Wilberforce replied, taking the page from her. "This column here is the account number, this is the account balance and last date of withdrawal."
Ginny looked at the sheet in his hands. There was one lone number, in the left hand corner of the page. "What about that?" she said pointing to the number.
Wilberforce shrugged. "Probably some account related business, a password or something. Bank records are never much help. Most wizards have a private stash of money separate from the banks anyway. The Malfoy's never did have a problem with money. Nevertheless all his Wizarding bank accounts—and there are quite a few—have been tagged and you'll be informed if he uses any of them."
Ginny nodded slowly, but didn't dismiss the mystery number straight away. There was something about it that looked vaguely familiar, the odd pattern of numbers, she sensed she had seen something like it before. She took the page from Wilberforce and stuffed the folder in her bag, before turning her attention to the small box sitting on the table.
"And this is?" she asked, her curiosity roused once more.
Wilberforce picked the box up and flicked the lid open. "A Portkey."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "This Portkey wouldn't happen to take me directly to Malfoy would it?" she asked hopefully.
Wilberforce shook his head. "Nope, but it'll take you to his former residence."
"Oh?"
Wilberforce took a flat piece of metal, a bit smaller than a Galleon, and walked over to Ginny's side of the desk. "Malfoy Manor of course."
* * * * * * * * *
This new place was good, Draco thought, as he stared out of the window of his five-star bungalow into the pouring rain. It was a change from St Petersburg and he had taken two planes, a train and a ferry to get here. He doubted they would ever find him here, among the muggle tourists who he itched to kill with every breath.
He was painfully aware of the unkempt state of his person. He hadn't stopped moving for the last thirty-six hours and he was in dire need of bathing. He located the shower and turned the taps on while he dragged the damp, soiled clothes off his body. Stepping under the hot, running water was an epiphany and Draco almost expired with relief as he located some soap and set about washing all the stress and grime off his skin.
Draco was wandering out of the bathroom after his shower, when his attention was captured by his reflection. Once he had checked his appearance every time he passed a mirror. These days he didn't have time for reflections, and rarely noticed it.
Today he stopped and turned, facing the mirror full-on. His damp blond hair clung messily to his scalp and he had a towel wrapped carelessly low around his hips.
His hair, he noted absently, was getting long again, caressing his chin at the front and his shoulders at the back. He'd have to get it cut soon, or else tie it back in a ponytail.
He wondered if women still found him attractive. They had in his school days, he remembered. Even after that, he had thought, as he studied his face in the mirrors at Malfoy Manor, that the war and maturity had given his pointed features a certain sharp strength, given his mouth a determined slant.
Now he looked at himself, taking in the slightly slanted grey eyes, the aristocratic nose and the generous lower lip. He hated this face. It was soft and weak. It was the face of a boy, or a woman. Not one of a man.
His gaze moved to his chest, noticing distractedly the myriad scars gathered over his years at home, the war and what came after. He noted the barely defined pectorals, fading into a prominently visible ribcage and slender hips. It was a weak body, one to match the face. One which couldn't do the simplest task, but instead promised disappointment.
Draco's perfect effeminate lip curled in revulsion.
* * * * * * * * *
Although the rain had subsided, the clouds overhead were as dark and threatening as ever. The wind had also picked up and was whipping Ginny's hair around her face. She pulled her coat tight, and looked up at the house that stood before them. Ginny supposed it was a house, as it performed the same purpose as a house, but she had never seen a building that looked anything less like an ordinary house. It was the size of a small castle, made entirely of dark stone, with sinister statues and towers sticking oddly out of the structure. She guessed that it was hundreds of years old, but there was no way of telling for, although the architecture and design of the place seemed almost medieval, the grounds and the building itself were in perfect condition. The lawn was immaculate, and the rows of vines and trees that ran along the side of the estate looked as if they were pruned regularly. Ginny turned her head and gasped. Behind her, stretching for as far as she could see was miles and miles of green countryside, the type described in picture books. Rolling hills and green paddocks, thick forests simply begging to be explored, it was astoundingly beautiful. She breathed in the crisp, fragrant air and instantly fell in love. In years to come she would remember her first trip to Malfoy Manor and savor the awakening her senses experienced at that very moment.
"Where are we?" Ginny asked, still gazing in awe at the vastness of the land.
Wilberforce, who was wearing a large grey trench coat and a little tweed hat, put the Portkey safely in his pocket before replying. "Near Wolverhampton. Not too many miles from the Welsh border. Beautiful isn't it?"
Ginny nodded. Beautiful really didn't cover it. It was breathtaking. To think such gorgeous surroundings could foster such wretched human beings. A shiver went down her spine as she turned back to the Manor.
"You ready then?" Wilberforce asked.
Ginny shoved her hands into her coat pockets and nodded. "Lead the way."
"That's the main dinning room," Wilberforce said, pointing to a large doorway that opened into a room that was about the size of Ginny's entire apartment. The inside of the Manor was as spectacular as the outside, if not more so. The walls were high and adorned with expensive looking paintings and portraits. The ceiling was finished with an elaborate plaster cornice and in several of the rooms hung an enormous silver chandelier. There were vases in the house that Ginny had no doubt cost more than a year's worth of her salary.
"I tell you," she said, as they passed a display cabinet holding what looked like an antique sword, "I'd have hated to live here when I was growing up. I'd be constantly afraid I was going to break something."
Which was never a problem at the Burrow, as more often than not, everything was already broken.
"Yeah, and for some reason, I don't think Lucius would have been very understanding about it if you had," Wilberforce replied.
"No, not at all," she said, thinking of the few encounters she had had with that thoroughly unpleasant man. Unpleasant? Try down right evil.
They had reached a large circular room that had several corridors running off it, and a spiral staircase in the center. It was a bizarrely shaped room, not at all practical, but then in a house like this, Ginny reasoned, practicality wasn't a high priority. Wilberforce went to straight to the staircase.
"After he graduated from school, Malfoy Junior moved from his second floor room, and set up camp in the dungeons," he explained as he began descending the stone staircase.
Ginny followed, taking in the deep gunmetal grey of the stone walls that made the area both beautiful and imposing. "I suppose after being in Slytherin, dungeons were the only thing that felt like home," she remarked.
"Hell," Wilberforce muttered, "I wouldn't mind living in a dungeon either if it looked like this."
The space in front of them was not at all like Ginny expected. Unlike the damp, dark environment of the Hogwarts' dungeons, these were surprisingly well lit with many candles and tastefully decorated with mahogany furniture and high-backed cushioned chairs. It was the most comfortable looking area of the house Ginny had seen yet, and she could understand why someone would want to live here. It was somehow less showy, less ostentatious than the rest of the house. There was a simplicity in the angles and colours of the room that made Ginny relax a little.
""It is kind of nice down here," Ginny admitted, going over to a large tapestry that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. It was the first tapestry she had seen in the Manor so far. The Malfoy's seemed more like portrait people; tapestries didn't seem grand or expensive enough for their tastes, too quaint perhaps. But the one that hung on the far right wall of the dungeon was lovely and somehow vaguely familiar. She looked closer and it struck her.
Of course, 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black', it's the same as the one that used to hang on the wall of Sirius' house.
As far as Ginny knew, Harry had had that tapestry destroyed after he had moved into the house, which Sirius had left to him. It was interesting to see that another one, almost an exact replica in fact, existed.
"That's from Draco's mother's side of the family, as you can see by the Black family crest the on the left hand corner. No doubt it was a family heirloom that Lucius wasn't too fond of and banished to the dungeons," Wilberforce explained, coming up behind her.
Ginny nodded. It was odd seeing something she had always associated with Sirius in the Malfoy's house, it made her feel strangely uncomfortable
"So," she said, eager to change the subject, "What's that?" she asked, pointing to a small wooden trapdoor that was set in the far wall.
"Ah," Wilberforce said with a little smile, "That harmless little door is the entrance to the Malfoy safe, in which lies a large portion of the Malfoy fortune."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Oh? How did you get in there? Surely it's protected."
Wilberforce let out a snort. "Protected? Honey, you have no idea. It took fifteen of the best curse breakers, six Aurors and two weeks to get past the hexes, curses and other nasty stuff that guarded that damn vault. And we still haven't been able to remove the money from the Manor. That goes for most of the stuff here, the magic's just too powerful."
"I can imagine," Ginny said. There was no doubting that a family like the Malfoy's would have pretty tight security around their fortune.
"Do you want to see it?"
"See it? As in the fortune?" Ginny asked.
Wilberforce nodded.
Do I really want to have the mountains of gold and riches that lie behind that door rubbed in my face?
"Ah, no, I think I'll be alright," Ginny replied.
Wilberforce shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, moving over to one of the high backed chairs, "It's pretty bloody impressive though, I'd never seen anything like it."
"I'll bet," she said, moving over to the chair next to him, but not having the nerve to sit down.
"Millions of Galleons worth of stuff I'd say, unbelievable really. Wall to wall gold, there isn't an inch of space to fit anything else in," he gushed.
"Mmm," Ginny murmured again, "Well, the Malfoys had to live the life of luxury, didn't they?"
"But of course," Wilberforce said, heavily placing his feet on the expensive-looking chest that lay before them, "And such a life does not come cheaply."
"No," Ginny said thoughtfully, "It certainly doesn't."
* * * * * * * * *
Draco took in the scene in front of him. Three thugs had stepped out of the shadows and were eyeing him menacingly. He knew they were spoiling for a fight, possibly more. He also knew that he stood no chance of winning by himself—a skinny weak man against two overly muscled ruffians and their rat-faced leader. Calmly he lit a cigarette and took a drag, then he dropped it on the ground where it lay smoldering. There were people like this everywhere, he reflected. He'd gotten in his share of fights in St Petersburg too, and by luck—whether good or bad—had managed to survive them with only his collection of scars to show for it.
The leader—Rat-face—flushed angrily at Draco's nonchalance, unaware that Draco was mentally withdrawing as he always did when running away was not an option. Draco knew he deserved the pain he was about to be dealt and it would continue to be his due until he avenged his father's death and that of Lord Voldemort.
"What do you want?" he asked in a dead voice.
Rat-face, taking umbrage at this disinterested question, smiled meanly.
"Just a little fun," he replied.
Draco realised from the stranger's accent that he was not a local. In fact, Rat-face was most likely an American.
Figured.
At his cue, his two followers moved towards Draco who tensed, anticipating the pain. Number One held him, while the other punched him hard in the chest. Straight away, Draco felt a crack and then a searing pain that told him that one of his ribs was fractured. On the tail of the pain came a pleasure brought on by the belief that every time he suffered, a little bit of his debt for his cowardice was repaid. He smiled.
Rat-face's eyes narrowed. Number One, holding Draco's arms behind his back, squeezed his elbows together until Draco thought his shoulder would dislocate. He screamed and Number One released his arms and let him drop to the ground where he curled in fetal position. Number Two kicked him savagely in the stomach.
A rain of punches and kicks assailed him, but he rode them, watching Rat-face's countenance become redder and redder. Finally Rat-face called off his cronies and strode towards where Draco knelt. He watched Draco struggle to his feet. When they were eye to eye, Rat-face swung back his arm and punched Draco hard on the cheekbone. Draco swayed but remained standing, staring expressionlessly at his abuser.
Voices echoed at the end of the alleyway.
Rat-face's mouth screwed up and he glared poisonously at Draco with fury and frustration etched onto his features. Draco knew there was much more Rat-face would have liked to do to him. The beating had just been 'foreplay'.
Finally, as the owners of the voices came around the corner, Rat-face smiled sickly.
"Good-bye, my pretty." He said, producing a knife out of his jacket. Like quicksilver, he plunged the knife into Draco's abdomen and yanked it out. Then he and his cronies ran away.
Draco was drowning, but it was a delicious drowning. When he crumpled, the impact of his shoulder on the ground caused a light show to illuminate the haze clouding his brain.
He was dimly aware of screams, then vague humanoid shapes. Later he noticed a white ceiling and a man in which bending over to take his temperature. He floated in the darkness until he was returned, unwillingly, to his body.
A nurse was leaning over. She smiled when he opened his eyes and blinked them hazily a few times.
"What's your name dear?" she asked kindly.
"Dra—" Draco began, then remembered himself and fell silent.
He wasn't Draco Malfoy in the eyes of the world.
* * * * * * * * *
"So the Malfoy place was amazing then?" Colin asked as he brought the glasses of pumpkin juice and the plate of scones out onto the patio. The patio at the back of their townhouse was a place where the three housemates often spent time together. It a was small area and the blue paint was chipping of the most of the railings, but it looked out on their small herb garden and was a lovely place to relax.
"Oh yeah," Ginny said, reaching for a scone, "It was unbelievable, like a castle, only more interesting. It was like a work of art."
"What do you mean?" Orla said, before placing some of the oregano she had been picking on the cane table.
Ginny thought back to the angular arches and towers of the mansion, jutting out across the dark sky. "It seemed to, well-this sounds quite ridiculous really- but at times, it seemed to almost have it's own personality. There was this enormous, sinister looking castle in the middle of gorgeous countryside. It looked so out of place, yet at the same time it seemed to command the space. There seemed to be this immense power in the very architecture of the building, it was disturbing, but beautiful at the same time."
Colin smiled. "That's very poetic Gin, but what I want to know is if you found any dirty secrets on Malfoy, like a stash of naughty magazines under his bed or something."
"No, Colin," Ginny laughed, "Unfortunately there were no naughty magazines or other dirty secrets to be found. Malfoy lived a life of exceeding wealth and comfort, which we already knew anyway. Though I must admit, I was quite overwhelmed by the very scale of their riches."
Orla, who had just gotten up from her nap and was having a brief drink before heading back to the club, sipped thoughtfully at her juice. "If Malfoy's not dead, I wonder how he's coping without his satin sheets and caviar," she mused.
Ginny sat up straight in her chair. "You know, that's exactly what I've been thinking and the more I saw of the Malfoy Manor, the more it reinforced this idea in my head. Wherever Malfoy is, I can't ever see him roughing it. He must be getting money from somewhere," Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest in a thinking position. "He hasn't accessed his Wizarding bank accounts for over two years, and he couldn't have taken much from the Malfoy safe because Wilberforce told me that it was filled to the brim with gold. It's weird, it's like he's actually disappeared off the face of the planet. I mean he's not exactly inconspicuous, everyone in the Wizarding world would instantly be able to recognize him."
Colin leaned forward. "Maybe that's it, maybe he's not in the Wizarding world anymore," he said, a note of excitement in his voice.
Orla snorted. "Oh and where would he be then Colin? Living among Muggles? Draco Malfoy? You can't be serious, he couldn't survive- he hates Muggles more than anything in the world."
"Desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures," Ginny said, "I think Malfoy would rather live with Muggles than have to live in substandard conditions. He really is that pretentious. Comfort and luxury are everything to the Malfoys."
"Malfoy the Muggle," Orla said shaking her head, "Now there is something I'd like to see,"
Colin flicked a strand of hair from his eyes. "The thing is, Gin, even if he is hiding out in the Muggle world, chances of finding him without some kind of lead are pretty slim. There are so many more places to hide out there."
Ginny nodded. "You're right of course, but I think I may have a lead." Ginny reached behind her to where she had dumped her bag and pulled out the folder Wilberforce had given her.
"Colin, you have a Muggle bank account don't you?" she asked, pulling out the sheet of paper with Malfoy's bank details on it.
"Yes, two in fact."
Ginny handed him the sheet of paper. "You see that number in the left hand corner. Does that look at all like the number for your accounts?" Colin looked at it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You know what? I think it just might."
"Really?" Ginny said excitedly, she hadn't really expected her half-formed idea to be successful. "Are you sure?"
"Well, the Wizarding bank account numbers are a lot shorter than this number, as there are a lot less of them. My account number is quite like this." Colin grabbed the last scone off the plate. "Don't you have a cousin who is an accountant or something? Wouldn't they be able to help?"
Ginny stared at him. Why didn't I think of that? "Of course! You're a genius Colin."
Colin shrugged modestly. "I try."
Ginny jumped out of her seat and ran inside to the Muggle telephone they kept in the house that enabled Colin to keep in touch with his family. She got out her address book and found the phone number of Alfred J. Houndsworth, Ginny's second cousin and only Muggle relative. She had only met him a few times, but the Weasleys tried to keep regular contact with him, if only to have a link to the Muggle world, for, as nice as he was, the old chap was more than a bit dull. She looked at the number in the book and then at the numbers on the phone pad.
"Ah, Colin," she called out sheepishly, she still wasn't quite used to these Muggle devices. "I just have to type this number in and I will be able to hear the other person, that's right isn't it?"
"Yes Gin, and remember not to speak too loudly," he called from the backyard.
"Here goes then," she mumbled, clumsily typing in the numbers. There was the odd ringing noise that she remembered from the other few times she had used it and then-
"Good Afternoon, Anderson's Accounting, Alfred Houndsworth speaking."
"Oh, ah, yes, hello Alfred, it's um, it's Ginny Weasley here," Ginny stuttered.
"Ginny Weasley?" he repeated. "Oh! You're one of Arthur Weasley's lot aren't you?"
"Yes that's right, the youngest and only girl."
"Of course, of course, I remember now. Well, if this isn't a surprise, what can I, er, do for you Ginny?"
Ginny twisted the phone cord around her fingers. "I was hoping you could tell me something about Muggle, I mean, ah, your bank accounts."
"My bank accounts?"
"Well, not yours specifically, but- well the thing is, I have an account number, or at least I think it is an account number, it may not be, I mean for all I know it could just be some random number, but anyway on the slight chance that it may be an account number, I was hoping you'd know how to help. Maybe you'd know how to find out what bank it's from."
"Ok," Alfred said and Ginny could hear some rapid tapping in the background. "Tell me what you've got."
She would look back on her conversation with Alfred J. Houndsworth later and admire his efficiency. Muggle accountants must have a lot of power and be really well respected people in the community, Ginny mused. He had managed to locate an account with those details in Switzerland and had promised to call back when he could find out details of ownership and last withdrawal. Ginny felt a tingle of anticipation settle in the pit of her stomach and warned herself to not get her hopes up. This could easily fall through, who knows who owns this account or even if he does own it, why would he still use it if he thought the Ministry might be able to trace him through it. Even while these spurts of logic were mulling around her mind, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that she was onto something. The truth was that no one had even considered that Malfoy would venture into the Muggle world as it went against everything he and his family stood for. But what if he had; it would explain his virtual disappearance from the Wizarding world and his mysterious source of funds. And, if he hadn't been using magic, then locator spells wouldn't have been able to trace him. Ginny was weighing up these possibilities when the phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts.
"Ah, hello?" she said tentatively into the receiver.
"Ginny?" Alfred replied.
"Yes, it's Ginny. Is that Alfred?"
"It is. Now listen Ginny, I've found some rather interesting stuff about this account. You were in luck as my old friend Enid, whom I knew from University, still works at Credit Suisse and she was able to look up this information for me. I had to use a bit of cunning, told her I was checking out the legitimacy of a prospective client. Oh, it was all quite exciting," Alfred said breathlessly.
"I'm sure it was, now about the account," Ginny prompted.
"Oh yes, well the account it is owned by a Floyd Maroca, residence United Kingdom. Does this help at all?"
Ginny considered this. Obviously he's not going to use his real name, but could this be him? "Uh, how do you spell that, Alfred?" she asked, reaching for a pad of paper and the pen that lay near the phone.
"F-l-o-y-d M-a-r-o-c-a"
Ginny jotted this down. "Ok, and when and where was the last withdrawal?"
"December the 27th, nine o'clock and it was taken from an automatic teller in St Petersburg. Oh, but sometimes the information in the database can take up to two weeks to update."
"Right, well thanks for the info Alfred, I really owe you one," she said as she replaced the lid of the pen.
"You're welcome Ginny, do you think it will be of any use?"
"I can't really say now, but thanks anyway, you've been a great help."
"It was no problem, say hello to your parents for me," Alfred said kindly.
"Will do. Thanks again Alfred," Ginny said before hanging the receiver back on its cradle.
"Well?' Colin, who had come up behind her, said impatiently.
Ginny looked at the scrap of paper in her hand. "Floyd Maroca," she said with a laugh, "What kind of a name is that?"
"Can I've a look?" Colin said reaching for the paper. He stared intently at the paper for a second, and then grabbed the pen that was sitting on the table and scribbled something next to the name. "Oh my God," he breathed.
"What?" Ginny asked looking over his shoulder.
"I think," Colin said excitedly, "I think Malfoy may have done a Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Huh?" Ginny said blankly.
"Here," Colin said pointing at the paper, "Rearrange Floyd Maroca and what do you get?"
Ginny looked at the name and then at Colin. "Draco Malfoy," she whispered. "You get Draco Malfoy!" She laughed and threw her arms around a startled Colin. "This is unbelievable." She looked at the paper once more and shook her head. "Remind me again why I'm the Auror?" Colin shrugged, grinning widely. "What can I say? I have my moments."
"Mate, I owe you one, well more than one really."
"We'll work out a repayment plan later," he said throwing his arm around her shoulder, "Now though, you have to work out what you're going to do."
"What I'm going to do?" she echoed. "Well, it looks like I'm going to Russia."
