False Facades
A/N—Sorry if the whole Alexandria thing causes any confusion. Alexandria is Ginny, but no one knows her as Ginny, and since she has no memory for the time being, she does not know to correct them. So whenever someone refers to Alexandria, they are referring to Ginny.
God, I'm excited to write something angsty where it will be accepted and not bitched about. Insert pointed stare at Unconventional Commitments readers.
Chapter Three
Dr. Morrison slid quietly into room 731, his last stop before he went off-call.
His entrance went unnoticed by Alexandria, and he took a moment to observe her. She was staring blankly out the window, as the nurses often whispered that she did. They said that her vacant expression spooked them…it only intrigued the doctor.
In the five days since their hectic meeting, he had come to view Alexandria as more than a patient. Something about her called to him, and it had been so long since he had felt any sort of connection with another human being that he was not about to ignore it. Doctor/Patient codes be damned, he had all ready taken all of her medical expenses upon himself. The last thing that this girl needed was thousands of dollars owed to a hospital.
"Alexandria?" he called gently.
"Doctor," she greeted without breaking her gaze out the window.
He walked over and sat in the chair beside her bed. "Why do you stare out the window so often?"
"Why do you come in here at 6:15 every evening?"
"Because I am a creature of habit, what is your excuse?"
"I wouldn't know. It's like…I can feel someone staring back at me…does that make any sense?"
"Not especially. We are on the seventh floor; no other building faces this one. No one is spying on you, Alex."
"I didn't mean it that way. I just…I know it's naïve and I'd probably be better off to just accept the fact that I was abused or whatever and no one really cares for me…but it feels like someone is not so much staring at me, but staring for me. Like they are searching for me."
"I do not find that to be naïve. And just because you were misfortunate to be born unto a family that would mistreat you, that does not mean that you are uncared for."
She shrugged lightly. "I want to talk about something else."
"All right. How about we talk about…your release?"
Alexandria looked nearly frightened. "I'm being released?"
"In two days. You're looking well enough that there is no need for you to hang around here any longer."
"Where…where will I go?"
He took a breath. "Where would you like to go?"
She unconsciously turned to the window. "Someplace that feels like home. Someplace that will help me remember…anything."
Jack leaned up in the chair, "You understand that you cannot go to your home, correct? Your parents are under investigation…"
"I understand, you explained it to me yesterday. But, I what I don't understand is…you've talked to them, right?"
"Yes, I have."
"And they are from here?"
"Kentucky. Yes, they are."
"So how come I have a British accent then?"
"I...I don't know." Jack resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead, how on earth had that escaped his attention? Of course he realized that Alexandria was British, her accent was one of the many things that intrigued him, but…he had been too busy attempting to save her to exercise any common sense.
"I would like to talk to them," she continued.
"I cannot permit that."
"I am not asking, Doctor. I am obviously not a native, and you tell me that they are. Something doesn't fit, I need to know what."
"All right," he relented, "but I am to be present when you conduct this interview of yours."
"That's fine. May we do it tomorrow?"
"If you still feel determined to speak to them tomorrow, then yes, we shall call them in…"
Harry paced the grounds anxiously. Malfoy had swore on payment of death that his father would be at this exact location at eleven…It was five till.
How Lucius Malfoy had the means to unnoticeably come to Hogwarts grounds Harry did not know, nor did he care. If it meant his escape, and a conference with Voldemort, then he would call upon the devil himself if needed.
Three till. This was all just wasted time…every second that he spent standing around, Ginny was that much closer to being lost to him forever. How could he have been so dumb? Of course Voldemort would want her; it had all been so obvious—
"Good evening, Mr. Potter."
Harry whipped around. "Mr. Malfoy.
"You wished to see me?"
"Yes. Yes, I did. I want you to get me a portkey out of Hogwarts, and then you are going to take me to Voldemort."
Malfoy sneered, "And explain to me why I would do a thing such as that?"
"Because you are a selfish bastard who loves to use people at any occasion possible. Here I am, the very person that Voldemort wants the most, volunteering to allow you to present me to him. You should jump at the chance."
"Even you are not that thick, Mr. Potter. There are games afoot…"
"He has information that I need. I assure you that there is no trick."
"Your word means nothing to me."
"Then Vertaserum me or leave, for right now you are just wasting my time."
A look of comprehension came across Malfoy. "I see. This is about the girl, is it not?"
Harry glared in silence.
"Harry Potter, ever the hero. Very well then, Potter."
Lucius slid a thick gold ring off of his finger, "A reusable portkey to Malfoy Manor. Press down on the snake for three seconds to activate it."
Harry accepted the ring, and turned it to where the snake was visible. He took one last glance up at Malfoy, before closing his thumb over the snake and holding down so harshly that he felt his knuckle turn white.
He was nearly reassured by the uncomfortable tug at his navel, which alerted him that there was now no backing out. Malfoy saw him as a proverbial meal ticket, there was no way that Lucius would allow him to do anything besides go straight to Voldemort…
No matter. Harry wanted nothing more than to face Voldemort once more. He wasn't the inexperienced underdog that he had been in all previous encounters. He wouldn't be requiring dumb luck this time around.
At least, he hoped not. For Harry Potter's luck had long since run out…
Alexandria bolted up in her bed, panting heavily. It had been horrible. There was…
She nearly cried out in frustration, she had all ready forgotten! That dream was a connection to her past, she just knew it. If only she could just remember it…
She rubbed her temples, as if this action would will a memory out. It had been dark. It had been a nightmare. Only, it was not a nightmare, it was reality. Her reality.
She took a few deep breaths, and then rolled up the sleeves of her hospital gown. In an eerie fascination she stared down at the bruises and scars that lined both arms. Each one was a secret of her past.
Ever since she had made the accent connection, her 'parents' had been cleared in her mind. No one had abused her…someone had tortured her.
She took her right hand and ran it up her left arm. She bit back the flinches of pain, some of the cuts were more healed than others. Each had been inflicted at a different time. The bruises were of various coloring…
Some old couple could not have done this to her. No, this, this was the work of—
It was on the tip of her tongue. A name was just out of her reach…
It was so maddening! Every time it seemed as though she was about to recall something it would run away from her. It was like someone had put a spell on her.
Spell. She repeated the word several times over quietly, each time she said it, it provoked the same feeling in her abdomen that she had received with the name thing.
She felt tears stinging her eyes, but blinked them back. She had done so much crying ever since she woke up in that house. It shamed her to cry…but, of course, she did not know why.
Once rested back on the pillows, Alexandria attempted to locate sleep once more, for she was positive that the first clue to her memory was in her dreams…but sleep was no where to be found.
Several hours later, when day had broke and it was deemed a 'normal' hour for patients to be awake, Alexandria had possession of a large thesaurus in her lap.
She flipped it to the esses. Alternate words for spell…charm, curse, enchant, hex, suggest, mean, bout, interlude….there were dozens of words. None made any sense, either.
The book was closed with a huff; it was obviously her impatience and sheer will for familiarity that had brought on her reaction to the word. So now she was forcing almost-memories upon herself…how depressing.
The door opened and she turned to face the doctor, whom she had been expecting all morning.
"I still want to speak with them," she said the second he was within hearing range.
He appeared disappointed. "Very well, Alexandria. I phoned them yesterday evening, they are scheduled to be here at noon…but if you desire to back out at any time, I will support you in that decision."
She sat up on the bed, and couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. "I-I wanted to ask a favor of you. You see, I don't…that is at the moment…I have no clothes, other than these thin paper robe things. You don't suppose that you could possibly find me something else to wear?"
"The only things that I personally have right now are scrubs. But you wouldn't want to wear those—"
"Anything is fine, really. I don't want to trouble you, it's just that these robes…they have no back."
Morrison let out a bark of laughter, but then cleared his throat to cover it up upon seeing her look of reprimand. "Yes, I can see how that could be an issue. I'll go down to my locker now and get those for you."
She nodded, "All right." The doctor left the room, and Alexandria was once again left to her confused thoughts. She knew that she wanted to talk to the couple that had brought her here…but she had no idea what she wished to say to them.
How does one go about the business of accusing an elderly couple of lying? But why would they have lied and stated that she was their daughter, what could they possibly stand to gain out of that? It made no sense; but, then again, little in her life made sense.
Harry regarded Lucius Malfoy in the only way that he knew possible: wearily.
When they had arrived at Malfoy Manor, instead of dragging him straight to Voldemort, Malfoy had sat Harry down in his study and offered him a brandy. Which, Harry was not thick enough to accept; he wouldn't put poisoning above the likes of Lucius.
"If I wanted to kill you, Mr. Potter," Malfoy drawled, reading Harry's mind, "I would find a far more creative way than poisoning."
"I'm not thirsty," Harry responded shortly. Poisoned or not, it was not a stellar idea to consume alcohol right before meeting Voldemort.
Harry nearly smirked as he thought of his opponent. Vol de mort. Flight of death. He refused to find himself in a place of terror over someone that spent their entire life running from death. At least he, Harry Potter, did not fear death.
At times he almost looked forward to death. If he were dead then he wouldn't have to worry constantly. All he did was worry. Worry about Ginny, worry about the fate of the Wizarding World, worry that he would let everyone down…He was sick of it, all of it. Why should the entire future of the Wizarding World lie at his feet? He was barely seventeen, it wasn't fair.
"Thoughts of regret, Mr. Potter?"
"I regret nothing. Much as I appreciate this little scene that you have set up, you are really just wasting time. I am prepared to face Voldemort."
"You seem to be overly concerned with time, Potter. Time is, after all, only what it appears to be. It is easily tricked, manipulated, and changed."
"I don't understand."
"That ceases to shock me. I know what, or should I say who, you want…I see not why we cannot come to an agreement of sorts."
Harry looked Malfoy in the eyes. "You know where she is," he stated.
"That, Mr. Potter, is the true question here, is it not? You want your Weasley—"
"And what do you want?"
"That should be quite obvious. I desire power, Potter. Power which I cannot receive while serving under another."
"You want me to kill Voldemort."
"Quid pro quo, Mr. Potter. I give you information; you do that which I cannot."
Harry comprehended Malfoy after a moment. Upon receiving the Dark Mark, it is the same as a curse being placed on you. Anyone with the Dark Mark may not, at any time, harm their lord. It is a psychical inefficiency, if they attempt to turn their wand or any weapon on Voldemort, they become crippled and useless.
Harry had been planning on fighting Voldemort anyway. If he could find Ginny beforehand, then so much the better.
"I shall agree to that, Malfoy, under one condition: you accept my word that I have every intention of going after Voldemort, but only after I find Ginny."
"As I stated before, Potter, your word means nothing to me."
"I refuse to do anything until I see for myself that Ginny is alive and well."
"You were perfectly willing to go to Him when you called upon me without seeing your precious Weasley first."
"Well things have changed now. Take it or leave it, Malfoy."
"A blood promise first, Mr. Potter."
Harry unconsciously ran a hand thru his hair. "Fine."
Malfoy opened a drawer in his desk and placed a piece of parchment on the table. He lifted a quill and began to write:
Upon a blood oath, Harry J. Potter shall face the Dark Lord in two weeks time.
I, Lucius C. Malfoy, shall relinquish all information regarding one Ginerva M. Weasley beforehand. After which time Harry J. Potter shall have precisely fourteen days to complete his task of the demise of the Dark Lord.
Malfoy signed his name, and handed the quill to Harry. Harry followed suit before pricking his finger with the end of the quill, and pressing his bleeding index finger down on the parchment.
A/N—Sorry that this took so long to get out. I had about half of it written for a while, but I got stuck…the ending kind of sucks. I might change it later. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, the comments and support are much appreciated!