A/N: Well, I completely expected to have this out about a week ago, before I went out of town. But then, like the complete 'tard that I am, I forgot to post it. I couldn't believe it. So sorry for the delay.
And, ha, well, uh, the predictions I made for this chapter in the last chapter were slightly off. I miscalculated, so sue me. This chapter turned out to be longer than I planned, too. But ah well, I think everyone will survive. Not much Draco, I apologize.
Disclaimer: Most everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. I do, however, own Ms. Okal, Maili, Kevin, Shannon, and Nathaniel Marksmon.
Special thanks to Elaine for fixing the Americanisms.
On with the show!
Chapter Two
The Amistoso Inn
Anid squealed with Ginny when she returned to the office. The minute Ginny walked in, she screeched, "I'm on a job!" causing Anid to leap out of her seat. The two of them had jumped up and down like little girls.
"I'm jealous!" Anid gasped, grabbing the parchment from Ginny's hands. "Okay then," she said, jealousy forgotten, "let's see what this is all about, shall we?"
Anid sat back down, and Ginny came behind her to read over her shoulder. The parchment read: Mission Malfoy: Ministry Eyes Only. Ginny tapped it with her wand, and the words melted away and a new image emerged. A short biography of Draco Malfoy, and a picture of him at the top corner. It was the most recent school picture of him, taken in his seventh year. He was leaning against the picture edge, his arms crossed, blinking every now and then to prove it wasn't a Muggle photograph. His expression was stony.
"Smiley fellow, isn't he?" Anid said cheerfully. "But good-looking . . . never really go for blondes myself, but even as an under-aged twit he looks good, eh?"
"He made lives miserable at Hogwarts," sighed Ginny. "I never really had the . . . opportunity, to view him as a potential boyfriend."
"Pity," Anid said, and they both giggled.
"Name," Ginny read, "Draco Lerato Malfoy - Lerato?" They laughed again. "What a horrible middle name. If only I'd known that at school, I could've used it against him. . . ."
"Birth: the first of July, 1980," Anid went on. "Hair: blonde, Eyes: grey . . . ooh, grey, that sounds delightfully sexy."
"Gray makes me think of a rock," Ginny muttered. "Height: 5'7," she read further.
"Short, isn't he? Seems like he'd be taller . . . Weight: 159 pounds. Sure are exact. I wonder how they got this information," Anid mused.
"I don't want to know," Ginny said, and Anid laughed.
Before they could return to the parchment, Jocelyn strolled in to the office.
"Oh, hullo," Anid called happily. "Have a nice shag - tea break, I mean?"
Jocelyn shot them a mischievous grin, dropping her purse onto her desk on the opposite side of the office. "I had a great shag, thank you," she replied, walking over to them. "What were you giggling about?"
"Just reading the statistics on Ginny's job," replied Anid casually.
The result was Jocelyn shrieking much like Anid had done. "A job! Oh, Ginny, that's not fair. I'm so jealous," Jocelyn said, proceeding to pout.
"It's perfectly fair," Anid said matter-of-factly. "She's been here four months longer than we have. It's about bloody time, I say."
Ginny smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Anid. Don't worry, Jocelyn, I'll be sure to bring you lots of souvenirs from Spain."
"Spain!" Jocelyn wailed. "Oh, you absolute evil bitch, rubbing it in my face like that." But Jocelyn apparently wasn't too heart-broken, because she came around Anid's desk to read over her other shoulder. "Well, let's see who this lad that you have to follow is. Name: Draco Lerato Mal. . . ."
"We've already read that part. We're on parents. Parents," Ginny read promptly, "Lucius Malfoy (currently resides in Azkaban prison). Narcissa Malfoy (now Narcissa Yorick, spouse of Havard Yorick; currently resides in Scandinavia) -"
"This rubbish is boring, let's see some more recent pictures," Jocelyn interjected keenly.
Ginny obliged; she'd be able to go over the information closely by herself anyway. Tapping the parchment with her wand, the biography disappeared. Across the bottom appeared a flap, and it took the girls a moment to figure out that it was a folder. Anid reached into the flap and pulled out a stack of square photographs, all of Malfoy.
Jocelyn emitted a low whistle and Anid sucked in a breath when they saw the picture on top. It was taken when Malfoy was unaware, obviously, and showed him crossing a street. He wore Muggle clothes, a pair of grey trousers and a black jumper. He had his hands in his pockets and was strolling, almost casually, across the photograph. When he walked out of view, he appeared again at the other side and began the same journey once more.
"I've changed my mind," Anid breathed, "I go for blondes."
"Ginny, my dear, I love you much, but I'm sorely tempted to knock you out, use your hairs to activate my Polyjuice Potion, and take your place," Jocelyn said with a bit too much passion.
"Thanks, Jocelyn," Ginny said grimly, slapping her back rather hard.
For the next ten minutes, Ginny watched with detached interest as her two immature friends perused the pictures. They oohed whenever there was one of Draco doing various activities, such as cooking, reading, writing with Muggle pens, even tying his shoes, which they got a kick out of. They particularly loved the one where Draco was removing his shirt. They booed at the few photographs of him with various beautiful women, though they continued to gush on how great he looked dressed up.
Ginny, on the other hand, looked at the pictures with growing dread in her stomach. Seeing Draco Malfoy's face again brought back rather painful memories of what the git had been like back at Hogwarts. She'd despised him back then; perhaps she still did, who knew. And now, after having not given the man a passing thought in half a decade, she would have to try and get close and personal with him in order to bring him back to England. She might even have to . . . become his romantic interest.
Ginny didn't have a problem with men or relationships with them. But a relationship with Draco Malfoy? She would rather become a nun.
It's for your job, Ginny, she told herself firmly. It won't mean anything. Strictly professional.
As she pondered it a bit more, she came to conclude that the hardest part wouldn't be befriending him. Oh, that would take considerable work, but there were more complicated issues to pursue. Saying that she did somehow weasel (pardon the pun) her way into his life, how would she ever convince him to come back to England? He might be vindictive, but he wasn't stupid. He wouldn't come back to the country where every official was waiting to lock him up simply because his mate or romantic interest chided him into doing so.
Before Ginny could think in depth, Anid's boss, Regina Winston, poked her head into the office and said she required Anid's presence to help her with something. Resentfully, Jocelyn admitted she had work to do as well, and they returned the pictures to the flap with regret. Ginny took the parchment and returned to her own desk, ready to pore over it in peace.
For the rest of the work day, Ginny read the information given to her. She read facts she already knew - somebody who was presumed to be Malfoy was found dead in late June 1998, the real Malfoy was spotted in France in April 2002, eleven Aurors (technically ten - one had been sent twice) had attempted to catch him over the past eleven months, and he was last seen a week ago in Madrid, Spain.
To be honest, she learned absolutely nothing of any value. She could tell anyone who was interested that Malfoy had been born in his own house, in the early morning hours of the first of July. Also armed with knowledge as ridiculous as the fact that he had broken his right arm at age three playing a child's game of Quidditch and had risked having it grow in shorter than his left, she felt she could easily pass any test given out on the topic of Draco Malfoy.
How is this supposed to help me? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. This is absolutely useless information that I could have lived another healthy sixty years without knowing.
At the end of the day, Creedmoore came by Ginny's office again. Both Jocelyn and Anid paused in their work to look at him, eager to hear what he had to say.
"I expect to see you in my office tomorrow morning for travel details, Weasley," said Creedmoore. "You leave for Madrid on Saturday."
* * *
"I," Pansy declared with flourish, "am a genius."
Draco glanced up from the book he was trying to read - the nonsense Muggle thriller couldn't keep his attention - and fixed his gaze on Pansy. She had just burst into his apartment and hadn't bothered to say hello. She was beaming, looking positively ecstatic with herself.
In one swift movement she had removed her lavender cloak and thrown it onto the sofa. She crossed the room in two strides, then stood steadily in front of him, crossing her arms. "Well?" she asked expectantly when he merely returned his eyes to his book. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm so intelligent?"
"If I cared," drawled Draco, turning the page, "maybe I would."
Pansy didn't listen. She perched herself on the arm of the large chair he was seated in, crossed her legs elegantly, and launched into her story. "Yesterday I did some research. Tried to do a little background check on every witch and wizard who's in the law enforcement department. Fortunately for me, I was granted access to all the information on Aurors and Hit Wizards. . . ."
Draco smirked. He knew what she meant by "granted access" . . . she'd probably slept with someone who had admission to what she wanted. That was how Pansy did business.
". . . and I read all I needed to know. It took a couple of hours, but I finally had narrowed our . . . prospective client . . . down to two trainees. One was some poor nineteen-year old who has every ailment known to wizardkind. The other was someone we both . . ." She trailed off, trying to think of the correct way to word it. ". . . have heard of," she settled on. "And do you know which one of the two I chose?"
Draco didn't reply, pretending to be reading his novel. Pansy was well aware that he was listening and plunged on, "I chose that dear, dear friend . . . Virginia Weasley."
It actually took Draco a full second before the name registered in his memory. He lowered his book to his lap and fixed Pansy with a blank stare. "A Weasley?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Pansy laughed, not quite girlishly enough to be considered a giggle, and clapped her hands. "Oh, but here's the best part. She's been a Hit Witch in training for six months . . . twice as long as the longest amount of time it took someone to leave training. That proves that she's quite incompetent, wouldn't you agree?"
Draco returned to his reading as a reply.
"It will be easy to have her out of our way," Pansy went on, unbothered by his lack of interest. "Because - here's an even better part - I made it so that she's not here to kill you, or stun you, as all the other Aurors had tried to do. No, she's here to bring you back to England. Out of your own free will."
He closed his book with an exasperated sigh. "All right, I'm listening," he snapped. He liked Pansy, and that was saying a lot, considering he really didn't like anyone, but there were times when she grated his nerves significantly.
Pansy trilled her laughter once more. "Last evening, after I had everything plotted out in my head, I visited our friend Octavious Dunnegan, Head of Aurors. I . . . persuaded him to write a letter to Weasley's boss, requesting her for this mission. I called it -" She laughed yet again "- Mission Malfoy.
"So now," she said vividly, standing up and twirling to face him, her skirt fluttering around her legs, "not only do you have a daft Weasley after you, but she's also trying to talk you into returning to England. That way, she'll need to spend a long amount of time down here, and therefore the Ministry won't send another, more able person after you. You can brush her off easily, and by the time she suspects something - that is, if she ever does - the Death Eaters will be running free."
Draco shook his head at her, reluctantly admitting to himself that Pansy had done a thorough job. He couldn't think of any flaws; not on the surface, anyway.
But . . . the idea of a Weasley being after him bothered him. He didn't exactly have a soft spot for the Weasley family. In fact, one of the perks of "dying" was that he'd never have to worry about running into people he despised.
Perhaps he hadn't really despised the Weasley family. But they irritated him in every way possible. Even thinking back on it, thinking about how much of a spoiled brat he'd used to be (but who was he kidding, he still was a spoiled brat), he couldn't find anything likeable about the bunch.
And yet he couldn't deny it would be easy to keep a Weasley off his back. All he had to do was throw a few crushing comments her way every now and then. It would be like old times.
Hmm. Maybe this could be fun.
"Thanks," he said distractedly, and opened his book once again.
"You won't get off that easily, Malfoy," Pansy warned, snatching the book out of his hands. She lowered her face towards his, smirking widely. "Come on, say it. You know it's true."
His mouth tugged into a grin - Pansy never ceased to entertain him - but he managed to get a hold of himself and sneered instead. "Fine. Pansy, you're a genius."
She all but purred.
* * *
Friday, 7 March, 2003
"You'll be travelling by the Floo network," explained Creedmoore the next morning, grumpy as usual.
Ginny was once again in his office (having arrived at work precisely on time, she reminded herself with a smile of pride) and receiving travel information while picking up on the fact that her boss was extremely bitter. He was scowling viciously at her from across his desk - must've had a rough night, she mused pleasantly, smiling wider at him. She herself had slept like the dead and was feeling brighter than ever at the prospect of getting to work.
"Apparting so far of a distance isn't safe," he went on, as if she didn't know. "I'm letting you go home early today, at lunch -" his frown deepened "- so you can pack all your crap. And I mean all. I won't have you wasting money because you need to buy more clothes, or a toothbrush, or shampoo -"
"What if I run out?" she asked primly.
He went on, her question falling on purposely-deaf ears. "You'll carry everything you're bringing along with you back to my office tonight at seven - any later and you're going possession-less. I won't wait around for you. I'll have all of your luggage sent straight to your inn in Madrid, so once you arrive by Floo all your things will be waiting for you.
"The place you'll be staying is Amistoso Inn," he added, shoving a leaflet across his desk.
She leaned forward to take it. Settling back into her seat, her eyes scanned the front flap. There was a photograph of a building that looked like a large house, white and welcoming. A plump grey-haired woman stood on the front porch, smiling warmly and waving enthusiastically. A sign beside the bright yellow door read, Amistoso Inn: Since 1887. Underneath the picture was a caption: On your visit to one of Europe's most fascinating Muggle cities, come spend your nights at Amistoso Inn! The friendliest inn "in" all of Madrid!
"Charming," Ginny murmured, a thrill of excitement running through her.
"It's not the only wizarding inn in the city, but it's one of the cheapest," Creedmore said, evidently feeling the need to make the fact known. "It's run by a British witch; communicating with her shouldn't be an issue. Then again, any sort of communication with you, Weasley, tends to be a problem."
She opened her mouth to intervene, but he hurried on.
"You'll be Flooed directly there," he instructed. "The owner - Aderyn Okal; I think that's her name - knows of your business, but I strongly advise you to keep it to yourself. Only discuss it with her if she brings it up, and if she does, keep your answers short and mostly vague. Hear me?"
"I hear you," Ginny practically sang, unable to stop smiling foolishly at his reddening face.
"Dunnegan is making the largest mistake of his career," spat Creedmoore, "sending you on this job." He glared so furiously at Ginny for a minute she actually felt bad. "Now get out of my sight before I burst a jugular vein."
Ginny hesitated. "Sir?" she asked, forcing her face to remain blank and smile-free. "I have a question."
Creedmoore was already shifting through the clutter on his desk, his eyes lowered. "Make it quick. I have work to do; not all of us get to go on holidays in Spain."
Ginny bit her tongue, holding back the urge to retort that it wasn't a holiday; it was work. And a lot of work, if she did it correctly. But instead she said, "Why do I even have to, well, use my personality to lure Malfoy back here? Why can't I just stun him and lock him in a trunk and have him shipped back?"
Creedmoore paused, meeting her gaze with a look of incredulity. "Are you really asking that, Weasley?"
She bit her tongue once more before squeezing out, "Yes, sir, I am."
"Weasley," he said flatly, dropping his arms on his desk heavily. "Let me just run a crazy idea by you. Just a simple, insane thing that you might laugh off."
Ginny didn't appreciate the sarcasm in his voice. She frowned deeply at him.
"What - do - you - think - the - Aurors - have - tried - to - do?" he said very slowly, as if she were an infant. "I'll give you three guesses."
Ginny gnawed her lower lip. Okay, so the man had a point. But that didn't mean he had to make her feel like a fool. She avoided looking at him, afraid his expression would ignite her temper. She couldn't risk exploding at him, not now.
"They've tried stunning Malfoy," Creedmoore snapped. "Tried, after attempts to kill him failed, nearly eleven times. Tried in all sorts of different scenarios. And before they get the chance, the bastard jumps to the next country. Somehow, he knows when the Aurors have found him."
"So what makes this time any different?" Ginny murmured, still looking at her feet. "What makes us think that he doesn't know that I'm coming?"
"We don't," Creedmoore replied in a tone that claimed he found nothing wrong with that alternative. "But Dunnegan's ordered you to try a new approach. To get him to come willingly. Is this in any way unclear to you?"
"No," Ginny said sharply, and raised her head. He seemed amused with her. It took a considerable amount of energy to keep her anger leashed. Standing, she announced rather calmly, "I'm going home now, not at lunch. I have a lot of stuff to pack, sir. I'll see you tonight at seven."
She couldn't get out of the office fast enough.
* * *
The truth was, Ginny had needed extra time, but not to pack. She needed to go home and tell her parents personally that she was going away for a couple of months.
Only her mother was home when she Apparted into the kitchen of her childhood. Even though all of Ginny's brothers were living away from home, there was rarely a time when the household wasn't bustling with family members. Finding the house empty wasn't quite a surprise, but it was a relief. Ginny had not been too enthusiastic on telling one or more of her brothers that she would have to go hunt Malfoy down in Spain. They would probably stop her from going. But as it was the middle of the week, and during work hours, none of the Weasley men were home.
Molly Weasley was sitting in the living room, knitting the Muggle way. Ginny knew that since all her children were grown and gone, Molly enjoyed doing things with her hands to keep busy.
Her mum was thrilled to see her, and beckoned her back into the kitchen. There she set the appliances to work making tea and sat down at the table, across from Ginny.
"So, Ginny dear," she said, smiling, "what brings you home on a workday?" Then her smile faded into a look of concern. "You weren't sacked, were you?"
Ginny laughed. "No, Mum, of course not. I've got some exciting news. . . ." She went on to explain her situation.
After she had finished, and the teacups had flown across the room onto the table in front of the two women, Molly had looked even more concerned than before. "Madrid?" she questioned doubtfully. "Ginny, dear, I'm not so sure . . ."
"I know it's short notice," she said hastily, a horrible feeling washing over her. What if her mother refused to let her go? "But it's the biggest chance of my career. If I can bring this man back here, I can be a Hit Witch, no questions asked." She'd carefully left out the fact that she knew the man's name.
Molly looked pained. "I don't know, Ginny," she said tiredly, sighing. "How long will you be gone?"
Ginny shrugged. "A couple months," she said, then went on to add, "at the most."
"Two months? That's such a long time."
"It'll go by quickly," Ginny told her reassuringly.
"So . . . this man you're after, he isn't dangerous, is he?" Molly asked cautiously. She stirred her tea idly and gave Ginny a suspicious squint, looking unsure that she wanted to hear an answer.
"Of course he is, Mum, that's why the Ministry's after him," Ginny said, exasperated. Wrong answer. At her mother's rapidly worsening expression, she hurried to say, "Definitely not to me, of course. He won't know that I'm after him. He's only a threat to the Ministry."
She didn't want Molly to know that she hadn't the slightest clue if what she just said was true. She didn't like keeping things from her mum, but sometimes it was best. Sometimes mothers didn't need to know everything.
"What if he finds out you work for the Ministry?" demanded Molly.
"Mummy, you won't have to worry," Ginny said, standing up. "I promise, nothing will happen to me. This isn't dangerous. It's just a challenge. When I come back in a month, I'll be the same. Maybe my skin will be a little darker, but that's about it."
Her mother smiled at that, because they both knew that the chance of Ginny's skin tanning was about as probable as her hair turning blonde in the sunlight. But she sobered quickly and said, "Ginny, darling, I don't want you to go."
Ginny glanced down at her mother, frowning. "Are you going to forbid me to go, then?" she asked, tentatively.
"No, no, of course not," she said. She stood up and placed her hands on Ginny's shoulders. She then fussed over her shirt, brushing off invisible dust and lint. "I trust your judgment, dear. If you think it's wise to go, then you go. I just don't want you to."
"Oh, Mum, I'll be fine," Ginny insisted, kissing her cheek. She stepped out of her mother's embrace. "I'll write you twice a week, and Floo you occasionally. Send Dad my love."
She Disapparated before Molly could say anything else.
* * *
Saturday, 8 March, 2003
At seven o'clock in the morning, Ginny stood in the middle of the main hall at the Ministry of Magic. Bleary eyed, stomach rumbling over the single piece of toast she'd eaten for breakfast, she waited fifth in line to use a Floo fireplace.
She hadn't slept much the night before. Nerves had kept her awake, and when she had drifted off, it was a light and restless slumber. Finally, around five thirty, she'd dragged herself out of bed and showered, dressed, and sat around for another hour, worrying.
What made her think she could do this? The prospect of living in Spain alone for months frightened her plenty, but having to do a difficult task on top of it all? She began to wish she had turned down the offer.
Then she'd scolded herself fiercely. There was nothing stopping her from doing this job. It was well within her capabilities; it wasn't impossible. Yes, it would take work, but all things worth achieving in life did. She would do it, and damn it, she would be proud afterwards.
Ginny's unsettled stomach gave a rather unpleasant lurch as the next person stepped through the Floo network. Now she was next in line.
She only carried a single bag; a Muggle pocketbook. In it, she had her wand and a roll of Muggle money given to her by Creedmoore ("This should last you the entire time; if I get any owls asking for more money, I'll have a heart attack and my death will be on your hands" - Ginny had found that threat a bit over the top, and rather temping as well). She couldn't really think of anything else to put inside it, as all her necessities had been packed in the two trunks that had been shipped ahead to Spain the night before.
The person in front of her stepped through the network. Her turn. She swallowed, bit her lower lip, and stepped forward to grab a handful of Floo powder.
I can do this, she thought with forced confidence.
She dropped the powder into the flames, which erupted in a blaze of green. Taking a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt, she practically leaped into them. With a surprisingly steady voice, she declared loudly, "Amistoso Inn!"
She was spun, violently, the motion causing her insides to clench and threaten to throw up her meagre breakfast. Clinging to her pocketbook, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the dizzying trip to stop.
After a full minute, it did. She just barely managed to keep her balance when the twirling halted abruptly. Feeling light-headed, she stumbled out of the fireplace, trying to gather her bearings.
She'd arrived into the front foyer. A glance to the right proved a front door - with a bay window above it - leading outside. To her left was a wide, green-carpeted staircase. Across the way was a receiving desk. There wasn't a soul around.
Ginny stepped further into the room, noting the cozy details of the place. On the pale yellow walls hung drawn pictures of various nature scenes. She immediately chose a favourite; a portrait of the rainforest, with multi-colored birds sitting on the branches and lizards scurrying up the tree trunks. As soon as the creatures spotted her, the birds began to chirp loudly, and the croaking of frogs was heard.
It made quite a racket. Ginny wasn't sure if that was normal, or if she should try to quiet them in some way. They might've been disturbing some of the guests.
Not a second later a woman came bustling down the stairs. Ginny recognized her as the one waving on the front of the leaflet. She had an irritated look on her wrinkled face.
"Oh, hush up," she said to the picture as she hurried across the foyer. Then she fixed her eyes on Ginny and smiled warmly. "Sorry about them, poppet," she told her apologetically, coming around the desk. "They get excited every time someone new comes. Which is everyday. I really should move them into a back room. . . .
"Anyway, your name, poppet?" asked the woman - Aderyn Okal.
"Ginny," Ginny replied, taking her eyes off the noisy painting. "Ginny Weasley."
"Ah yes, Ms. Weasley," claimed Aderyn Okal. "Right on time, you are. I've put you in one of the inn's nicer rooms - sounds to me like you've got a tough job to do, so why not be comfortable when you can?"
Ginny smiled her thanks and had to stop herself from trying to gain more sympathy from the old woman. Her job would be difficult; it would be nice to complain to somebody about it. But Ginny didn't always ignore her boss; she remembered his warnings to keep her business vague, and she planned on doing such.
"My name is Aderyn Okal, but you can call me Addy," she said kindly, smiling and causing her eye wrinkles to deepen. "Or Ms. Okal, whichever you prefer.
"Your belongings just arrived this morning. Shall I show you to your room now?"
"Yes, please," Ginny said politely.
Ms. Okal led the way up the staircase she'd come from. At the top there was a hallway spreading down to the right and the left. There was another staircase leading up, but this one moved. Ginny glanced upwards, seeing that it could swivel completely around and reach any door on the third floor.
"This used to be a Muggle house," Ms. Okal explained, leading Ginny down the right hallway and away from the swivelling staircase. "My husband - rest his soul - added the third story twenty years ago to make more room, which is why there's a moving stair. This floor doesn't have it, and I apologize."
"Not a problem for me," Ginny said. She wasn't used to having a stairway appear at her door every time she needed to go somewhere, anyway.
"Here's your room," Ms. Okal said, stopping in front of one of the several white doors. "Two-oh-three. The password is Gerwin. My husband," she added fondly as the door popped open. "This has always been my favourite room."
"Thank you, Ms. Okal," Ginny told her sincerely, and went through the doorway.
"One last thing, poppet," Ms. Okal said before shutting the door. "I like to do things old-fashioned around here. Downstairs you'll find a dining room; shouldn't be too hard to find. I serve my guests breakfast at nine, lunch at two, and dinner at eight. You're welcome to come to any meal you please."
"That sounds nice," Ginny said, smiling. "Thank you," she added once again, and Ms. Okal closed the door.
Now alone, Ginny glanced around her room. It was already lit, as if Ms. Okal had been expecting her precisely when she'd come, but the drapes were drawn, holding out sunlight. It made the place seem dusky, though cozy in a dark sort of way.
The bed was large, covered in a white duvet, with a wide wooden headboard, and one of her trunks sat at the foot of it. The walls were painted a bright purple, with gold fixtures and elegant blue candles placed in them. There was an armoire made of the same wood as the headboard, with her other trunk was placed beside. The wardrobe door had a full-length mirror on the back of it. There was a large, overstuffed gold chair beside the draped windows, and although Ginny didn't inspect the lavatory closely, it looked clean enough. At least she had her own.
If this is one of the cheapest places in Madrid, she thought with a smirk, I'd die to see one of the most expensive.
She crossed over to the heavy scarlet curtains and peeled them back, letting real light from the sun spill in. She had a view of the street; they were in the midst of a Muggle road. Cars sped by, people dressed in Muggle attire strode on the pavements, and she noticed one shop was advertising electronic devices.
With a sigh, Ginny sat down on her bed.
So she'd made it to Madrid. That was the incredibly easy part. Now, she would have to find some way to hunt down Draco Malfoy. And then she would have to approach him.
She inhaled deeply, and then stood up to rummage through one of her trunks for her parchments. It was time to get to work.
* * *
She drifted off. Around one thirty she awoke with a jolt, a blank parchment in her lap and a quill held loosely in her hand. Swearing, she rubbed the sleep out of her face and sat up. She'd wanted to outline a plan to find Draco, but now nearly six hours had passed and she had nothing to show for it.
Annoyed with herself, and her job, she hurried over to the window. The sun was stronger now, and the automobile and pedestrian traffic had slowed some, but being that it was lunchtime and most Muggles were out of work for a bit, it was still considerable. Her mind blank, she watched the people hurry by.
Damn it, Ginny, think! she thought ardently. Spinning away from the window, she paced her room.
Okay. First things first. Would Malfoy have an alias in this city? None of the information she'd gotten had said he'd ever changed his name, but it was entirely possible he could've done so now for extra precaution. If he had, then it would make him even more difficult to find.
She knew he had previously lived as a Muggle. The information had given her that much. But that didn't guarantee that he would still be living as such. Maybe he had moved into a wizarding home to outsmart the Ministry. To catch them off-guard. He had been intelligent enough to escape them eleven times; he would be clever enough to anticipate what they would expect of him, and do differently.
So all she had to do was anticipate what he figured the Ministry expected of him. To think as he did.
She snorted, and spun around to face her reflection in the full-length mirror. "This is going to be simple," she snarled at herself. "I have to figure out the mind of someone I haven't seen in five years. And I didn't even understand his mind back then."
No problem.
She resumed pacing again, afraid she might drop off to sleep once more if she sat down. Well, there really was only one thing she could do to find Malfoy. She would have to ask around.
The idea was risky. She would have to go to both wizarding and Muggle places, and ask various people if they had seen him. She could show other wizards photographs, yet she would have to describe him to Muggles as she had no stationary photographs. But either way, it was entirely possible whoever she asked would mention her to Draco. He would know for certain someone in the Ministry was after him, and would leave the city in the blink of an eye.
Well then, she thought briskly, I'll have to practice my Memory Charms, won't I?
Thrilled that she had a somewhat plausible plan, she decided to go downstairs and see if Ms. Okal's cooking was any good. Lunch would be served in ten minutes.
As Ms. Okal had said, the dining area was easy to find. It was as charming as the rest of the inn. There was a long, darkly polished wood table that could, at the moment, seat ten. Ginny suspected that it could be elongated by magic if the inn was unusually crowded with guests. A slight, though impressive, crystal chandelier floated near the ceiling, unchained, with thick, lit candles the color of those in Ginny's room. The walls were wallpapered in a gold and red striped pattern, and the carpet was colored a simple off-white cream. There was a sideboard made of the same wood as the table that held a beautiful flower arrangement. There was another pot of flowers - white and pink roses, Ginny noticed with a smile - in the middle of the dining table.
She seemed to be the first to arrive. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was five until one; perhaps she'd misheard Ms. Okal when she'd said the time for lunch? There wasn't any sign or scent of food.
But then Ms. Okal came bustling in from the doorway beside the sideboard. Behind her hovered a white porcelain bowl with a lid. She spotted Ginny and smiled.
"Oh, hello, Ms. Weasley," she said brightly. "I expect you've settled in well?" She flicked her wand gently and the bowl drifted softly to the table with barely a clatter. Another flick and the pot of roses had landed beside the other arrangement on the sideboard.
"I did, thank you," Ginny replied. "The room is lovely."
"It is," she agreed, her smile still beaming. "Well, I've made some vegetable soup for lunch; you'd be surprising how filling it is. If you want something else, then you're more than welcome to prepare it for yourself in the kitchen. This is an inn, not a restaurant," she added, though she said it kind-heartedly. "Please, help yourself, and I'll be back with some bread and butter and pitchers of water and pumpkin juice."
"Thank you, I'm sure the soup will satisfy me just fine," Ginny said graciously, and took a seat in the middle of the table.
Ms. Okal went back into the kitchen, and Ginny glanced around. Would she be the only one eating? It was kind of unnerving to eat at such a big table alone.
Ginny was just beginning to wonder where the bowls and utensils were when suddenly, ten blue-and-white China patterned bowls appeared at every seat. With them came a white napkin and a spoon, fork, and knife.
She lifted the lid off the large bowl of soup and was serving herself when three other people came into the room. Quickly, so as she didn't seem as though she were staring, she studied them.
One was a short woman, looking a bit older than Ginny, but nearly a head shorter, with dark blonde hair. Her eyes were a clear, pale green, and her face was littered with freckles, as were her bare arms. They reminded Ginny of her childhood freckles (she still had some, but for the most part they'd faded). She was dressed in a large green T-shirt that hid her slight frame and a pair of jeans.
Clinging to her hand was a little boy, about two or three years old. He had the woman's hair and freckles, but his eyes were bright, vivid blue. He wore a cute collared blue and white striped shirt and khaki trousers. At the moment, his lips were pushed into a pout.
The third was another woman, though she looked around fifty years old. She had greying brown hair, pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. A shapeless green dress hung somewhat pathetically around her skinny as a rail body. She reminded Ginny of a bird; her nose was long, her arms swung oddly at her sides, and she was thin as sin.
"Oh, hello!" the blonde woman said vibrantly when she spotted Ginny. "You must've just arrived, have you? I haven't seen you here before. I'm Maili O'Sheldon, and this bump on a log is my son, Kevin."
Her voice had a strong Irish lilt, and she spoke fast. Ginny shook her outstretched hand replied, "Great to meet you. I'm Ginny Weasley."
"Oh, I forgot, this old bat is my son's nanny, Shannon Andrews," Maili added, jerking her head back at the older woman who only scowled.
Ginny thought it was rather rude to call her an old bat, but maybe they had a relationship she didn't understand. She smiled kindly at the three of them as they sat on the opposite side of the table.
"Look, Kevin, darling, there's soup for lunch," Maili said to her son, clearly attempting to cheer him up. "Soup is fun to eat, isn't it? It's like eating water, except it has taste -"
"Mummy, I want to go to a toy store!" the boy howled. "I don't want to eat water."
"Kevin, how many times must I tell you I don't know of a toy store here that you'd like?" Maili asked, her voice hardening into that of discipline. "Now, won't you be a good boy and eat some lunch? Maybe then I'll ask around a bit and maybe we'll find a toy shop."
Kevin continued to pout, crossed his arms, and leaned back heavily in his chair.
"I'll take that as a yes," Maili grinned, winking at Ginny.
Ms. Okal came back into the room, a basket of bread, a platter of butter, and two white decanters following her in. She greeted Maili, her son, and Shannon warmly and they exchanged pleasantries; how are you today? Was your night comfortable? Going to get some sightseeing in?
Ginny considered asking the trio if they knew of Draco Malfoy, but she dismissed the idea quickly. They couldn't possibly; they were just visiting here, and had only arrived two days before, according to their conversation with Ms. Okal. Besides, she wasn't keen on using a Memory Charm on the young boy, and couldn't do such to his mother in front of him.
A few minutes later, another guest strolled in. It was a man, well past fifty, with snowy white hair and a stomach so round it seemed as if he'd swallowed about two and a half watermelons. He walked - rather, waddled - to the table and took a place beside Ginny. He said hello to Maili and her nanny, used their names to prove they'd met before, and then spotted Ginny, noticing she was a newcomer.
"I am Nathaniel Marksmon," he said in a rather pompous voice; he seemed to be looking down his nose at her. "And you are?"
"Ginny Weasley," Maili piped up before Ginny could open her mouth. "Got a strong, sturdy Irish look about her; she can't be too bad, eh?"
"Hmm. Quite," Nathaniel agreed absently, helping himself to some soup. "I see our, ah, American friend isn't down yet."
"Oh, you know her," Maili said cheerfully. "Always a bit late."
"More like only coming at her convenience," Nathaniel scoffed. He turned his expression into that of utter seriousness. "Did you know . . . I saw her returning to her room this morning. And she had a man with her."
"Well, God forbid," Maili cried, pressing a hand to her heart. "Can't have a woman take a man, now could we?"
Ginny listened with amusement, deciding that she liked Maili, disliked Nathaniel. He rather reminded her of her brother Percy, except somehow worse. Maybe because she loved Percy and could tolerate him . . . at times. She ate her soup as quietly as Shannon the nanny did, but paid attention just as intently.
"But in the morning!" Nathaniel exclaimed. "What kind of . . . of whore brings a man into a respectable inn -"
"Mister Marksmon," Maili interrupted, her friendly tone going frigid. "I would ask you not to use such language in front of my son. He does not need to hear it."
"Mummy!" Kevin wailed on cue. "I want a new toy! I want a new broomstick -"
Maili laughed, her eyes warming as she turned them on her son. "You must certainly are not getting a new broomstick," she told him firmly, ruffling his soft blonde hair. "The one you have is perfectly fine. . . ."
Ms. Okal came out to save the day with a rather large piece of chocolate cake. "Here you are, poppet," she said to Kevin, setting it in front of him. "But you must stop whining at your mummy, you hear?"
A smile spread across Kevin's face, making him look so adorable Ginny ached for a child of her own. The feeling past quickly, however, when she suddenly remembered the tremendous task ahead of her.
Ginny finished the last of her soup as Maili chatted cordially with Ms. Okal. She had an abrupt urge to ask Maili if she, Kevin, and even Shannon would like to tour the city with her.
No, she decided, I don't have time to socialize.
Later, once she'd successfully hunted Malfoy down, maybe she would attempt to be friends with the Irish blonde. But for now, she had work to do.
A lot of work.
* * *
Note: Amistoso means "friendly" in Spanish. According to my handy-dandy little translator:
http:// babelfish. ional chapter. Lack of action, blah blah blah. It gets slightly better next chapter, because Ginny sees Malfoy, and learns how to corner him. Plus we'll meet our American stripper.
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Thanks to the reviewers, I love you all!
Fantasiimaker (whee, first reviewer. Thanks!), Nobodysbitch (thank you! Yes, for some reason, Blaise strikes me as female. Dunno why), naturallyartificial (I'll try to keep it up! Hee, thanks), FlavOftheweek (yeah, sure took me long enough to come up with a new one, hmm? And thank you!), Lolita (yes, I have a new story, I really hope I'll finish it ;)), Miss Auburn (sure thing!), Luinthoron (hey, great to see your review again! Odd that I remember you, eh? Anyway, thanks!), myStiCaLYia (why thank you! Yes, they know, evil little Pansy planned it all; hmm, I seem to like Pansy, actually . . .), Crystal (heyo back! Hope I didn't make you wait too long), tiggergirl1306 (*evil cackle* No, I didn't die. I'm too alive for my own good…um, yeah), wikatcha (I'm glad I'm back too. I think I'm too scared to leave the D/G area. I will eventually, but for now, familiarity is comfort), MelissaAdams (I'm flattered, muchos flattered. Thanks!), kneh13 (yes, I thought it sounded rather cool meself. I hope it turns out good), bratgirl (your first? Girl, get your fanny out there and read lots more! There are so many good ones!), Wizzabee (well, glad to amuse you), TrinitYMalfoY527 (sigh, I know, I'm young. Ish. And thanks! I'm rather flattered you would go through so much just to guard my review…for that I gave you two ;)), Anaxandra (whee, I'm glad I have a new fic, too. Precisely, career vs love…it'll be great. Thanks!), Monica (thank you!), Silindro (*smacks self* I know I didn't tell you. I guess I'm modest when it comes to plugging in my fics. Yes, desk sex sounds like lots of fun. Maybe it'll happen . . . *plot bunnies attack*), Elaine (haha, yes, reading the first chapter definitely will help you with the rest), dragongirlG (why thank you), TomFeltons4ever (I'm rather eager to see where it goes as well), waterfairy-rose (Yes, I loff Ginny. Hee, thanks), lightning bug (the relationship that was mentioned? Nah, all I really meant by it was that they fought all the time, so by thinking that they got along, the Ministry was wrong in their assumption that she had an advantage…follow me? Sigh, I get confusing sometimes), !ncendio (Thank you! I'll be 16 soon…), Sakura1287 (Thanks! I try to make them character…ized and such), timmy (hey, sorry about that. I might get inspiration and go back and repost those two. Hope you enjoy this one!), Prongs (nah, not a year! Just a few months…okay, over 6 months. Wow, it's been ten months. Almost a year. Hmm, anyway, thanks!), Emily (thank you much!), Bulma Greenleaf (thanks!), Brooke Kenobi (well, I try ;)), The Ginneh (thank you!).
From CFFW yahoo group: Adrienne (thanks, I tried to make Ginny based on her newfound spine in book 5. And I'll make the relationship work out, never fret)
Wow, I can't believe how fun it was to go through and thank everyone individually. I've missed it!
If you review, I promise you'll get your own little thank you as well.
And I'm off for now . . .