A/N: All right, you all, here's Chapter 8, within the month, just as promised. And now I have chapter 10 written – good lord, I'm on a roll! Chapter 9 in two weeks, anyone?
Bad news, though – I've started working. While I will now be swimming in the massively rich (in a way), I won't get as much leisure time to write and write and write. I promise to try and update within a month each time, nevertheless. If sometimes the chapter's long in coming, please understand. Even when I'm done writing it, there's the week/2 weeks process of sending it to my beta's and such.
Okay, nuff chat. Real quick thanks to my beta Tia and my smoother-over Elaine. You guys rock hugely.
Chapter Eight
An Old Witches' Tale
Several drinks and even more hours later, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Yorick, and the entire country of England were the farthest things from Ginny's mind. Had she in fact begun to think of it, she would've only giggled so violently she wouldn't be able to control herself. Maybe it was best the troubling matters weren't on her conscious mind.
The evening started out rather slowly. Ginny, Maili, and Penelope crammed into a taxi, Penelope promising them she knew the best places to go.
"I went to this restaurant the other night − Bocaíto," she told them. "Best tapa bar in Madrid."
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked despite herself.
"Tapa is food, basically," Penelope explained. "It can be anything – hot or cold. Yesterday before lunch I went into some random bar and I had an absolutely rancid salad tapa there. When I asked what was in it, because I saw more than just vegetables, the bartender told me the meat was pulpo – octopus. I just about threw up right there.
"But Bocaíto," she insisted, smiling at Ginny's disgusted face, "has great food. They have this really good ham, I'm not sure what was so special about it, but it was pretty amazing. There were also some tasty olives. There was a huge selection of hot dishes, but I didn't order any – by then I was going to explode."
She turned out to be correct on the food selection – while some were placed out directly on the bar, most of them were made to order. Penelope said it was best to eat with a copa of fino – a dry Spanish Sherry – so Ginny, despite how she really wasn't a big drinker, gave in and requested a glass.
As it wasn't ten in the evening yet, the crowd was thin. Most hovered around the bar, as the three of them did, smoking, chatting quietly, and eating tapas. The cigarette smoke made Ginny feel smothered and most of the food she saw didn't look the least bit tantalizing. She looked around, trying to hide her distaste, feeling quite the snob. She was beginning to disagree with Penelope's opinion of what "the best bar" actually was.
"How do you know so much about Madrid, Penelope?" Maili asked as they waited for their drinks. "It's as if you live here."
Ginny realized that Penelope's eyes were no longer a shocking gold; they were just plain brown now, a shade lighter than her own and leaning more towards hazel. She noticed this at that moment because Penelope's eyes clouded over, calling attention to them, before she lowered her lashes to peer at the counter. "I used to live here," she said after a pause, lifting her head to reveal a guarded expression.
Maili plunged on, cheerfully trying to make conversation and clearly oblivious to how the topic wasn't a good one. "Oh yes? Why aren't you staying with friends then?"
Penelope tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking away from Maili. She was saved from answering when the bartender brought their sherries and she hurried to say, "Let's order something to eat."
Ginny studied Penelope for a moment longer, curious about her. What had happened here in Madrid that made her avoid answering innocent questions?
I honestly don't care, she reminded herself. I have more important things to worry about.
"Oh, Merlin, I don't know what to get," Maili claimed. "You'll need to help me, Penelope – what's good?"
Penelope translated most of the selections, and Maili requested three things. Ginny, however, didn't order anything − "I'm not hungry," she said. And it was true. Penelope rolled her eyes and Maili mocked disapproval.
"A couple more sherries should loosen you up," Penelope vowed.
Ginny didn't think so; she wasn't planning on ordering another one. She was trying to figure out a way to gracefully go back to the inn.
Once the food came, Maili began to launch into her life story. She had no inhibitions about sharing her personal information with two near-strangers. While eating from three different plates, standing between Ginny and Penelope and turning this way and that to meet their eyes, she described with vigor – quite often with her mouth full and cheeks bulging – how it was growing up in her small Irish hometown. After she downed her second sherry and asked for a draught beer next, she launched into her tale of going to an even smaller wizarding school.
As she was recounting her first job out in the real world, the bartender came by and asked if they wanted anything else. Penelope asked for two sherries and Maili wanted another beer. Ginny realized the second sherry was for her and opened her mouth to tell Penelope she didn't want it, but Maili was already crying, ". . . . and can you believe it, I actually got promoted. . . ."
With a twang Ginny remembered that she was supposed to be promoted soon – but not if she was standing around getting drunk on sherries. She was going to leave at that point – she really was – but Maili wore no wedding band and she was awfully interested to hear about Kevin's father. . . .
By the time Maili got to Kevin's father – "Bastard . . . one hell of a lover, though, you can't imagine the times we had . . . left as soon as I told him I was pregnant and never heard of him since. . . ." – Ginny was already on her fourth sherry. She was developing a fondness for them and Penelope just kept ordering them for her and she just hadn't said no yet. . . .
Finally, Maili had brought the two up to speed on her life and finished with a loud laugh. Eleven thirty was approaching and the bar had gotten noticeably more crowded. The chatter had risen to a dull roar, and more bodies were being pressed up against the counter to order tapas and drinks.
Ginny felt completely transformed. Her earlier worries had all but faded away; she felt relaxed and light-headed . . . she knew she was approaching the drunken stage. She'd gotten drunk only once before and swore never to do it again. The hangover had been the worst feeling in the world. But she wasn't really caring that much. For the first time all day, she was able to put Draco out of her head and concentrate on something else.
It was a relief to admit to herself that she was now having a good time.
"So what about you, Ginny?" Maili demanded, a bit too loudly. She was on her third beer and the glasses were no goblets. "Tell us about your family . . . I bet you have loads of stories, what with having eight brothers. . . ."
"Six," Ginny said, holding up one hand and one finger. A giggle escaped as she made sure she was holding up the right amount of fingers. "Only six."
"Good Christ, girl," Penelope whistled. Her fifth Sherry was being set in front of her, just like Ginny's was, but she didn't look as affected as Ginny felt.
Maili prodded in with questions – "Did you have to wear your brothers' old clothes? I used to get my sister's hand-me-downs and I despised it" – and eventually, Ginny was describing her household in earnest. She'd never thought her brothers' occupations to be something of interest, but Maili and Penelope both watched her, occasionally sipping their drinks, genuinely enjoying what she was saying. Soon she had them all but rolling on the floor in laughter, describing the stunts Fred and George used to pull. She shocked them when she told them of her family's involvement with the Second War. She impressed them when she said she knew Harry Potter.
"You know him? Personally? As in, not just passed him in the halls at school or spotted him on the street?" Penelope said incredulously.
Ginny couldn't find it in her to dislike Penelope at the moment – the alcohol had made her a nicer person. "Yes, he's my brother's best friend. I can get you an autograph, if you like." She laughed, relatively hysterically, at the knowledge that Harry, even after all these years, hated his fame and would have a fit if she asked him to sign an autograph.
"What do you know, Penny," Maili said, clapping Penelope on the back heartily and shaking her, causing the sherry in her hand to slosh over the edge. "We have a celebrity in our midst."
"Not me," Ginny insisted, lifting her glass and trying to catch the bartender's eye. "I just know the bugger. I used to fancy him something wicked, you know."
"Who didn't?" Penelope retorted, holding out her newly emptied cup as well for the bartender to take as he swished by.
"So tell me how someone like you – someone who grew up with Harry Potter and six older brothers – got into writing boring biographies for a living?" Maili questioned. She released a loud belch and dissolved into laughter.
Penelope caught Ginny's eye over Maili's head, grinning. "Yeah, why don't you tell us, Ginny dear?"
Ginny, oddly, didn't feel annoyed or even the least bit upset. She was sure the alcohol had something to do with it, but she honestly wasn't that daft. Drunk or not, she found herself trusting these women. Maili was openly a good, decent person, and though Ginny had had her doubts, Penelope didn't seem to be much of a threat, either. When she'd met Penelope, she hadn't sensed anything sinister about her. The thought that she might be in league with Malfoy had passed Ginny's brain many times, but she dismissed the notion without much proof of her innocence. The only thing Ginny was sure about was that a) if Penelope knew Draco she would have told him already that Ginny most certainly did work for the Ministry, and he wouldn't have bothered to go on the first date with her, much less the second, and b) she had a knack for judging people. And she ruled Penelope to be – though quite annoying for being such a snoop – an overall trustworthy woman.
Of course, she also found that she didn't care about much at the moment. When she thought about how her job might be at stake, she discovered that it didn't bother her. Maybe it really was the alcohol's fault. It was quite stupid of her, she realized later, but she did it anyway. She told Maili and Penelope why she was really in Madrid.
The two listened intently, this time never pausing to take a drink. Ginny described what it had been like in Hogwarts, sharing a school with Malfoy as a kid, and then went on to summarize her job mission. By the time she'd finished it was midnight. The dull roar around them was now full-blown shouting – Ginny's voice had been steadily loudening matching the surrounding clamor to where her throat hurt slightly – and there was much movement and commotion. However, Maili and Penelope didn't seem to be concerned by what was going on around them.
"Well, Ginny," Maili said, exhaling loudly, "I suppose you do have a little more excitement in your life than I originally thought."
Ginny laughed. "Writing biographies was the absolute first thing I thought of when I had to lie about what I did for a living," she said, Maili's laughter mingling with hers.
"I think it all sounds suspicious," Penelope declared as if asked her view of the situation. "You have to bring him back England? That's just stupid. As he is British, I'm sure the Spanish Ministry would have to give him back to be tried in his own country."
Ginny felt a nudge in her mind. Penelope made a good point. She hadn't really thought on the matter of bringing him back to England too much; she'd accepted that that's what the Ministry wanted her to do. Considering it now, it was pretty suspicious . . .
"I'm sure they have their reasons," argued Maili firmly. "The Ministry wants him rather badly; they're not trying to make it impossible to capture him. There's probably some technical matter that calls for him to be brought back to England."
Penelope hesitantly agreed with a slow nod. But she still looked troubled. Ginny felt a little flattered that she was worried on her behalf. Especially after how rude Ginny had been to her.
"Don't worry about it," Ginny said, leaning forward to wave a hand in Penelope's face and dismiss the discussion.
"Yeah, it's your turn now, Penelope," Maili accused. "Tell us about your life."
But Penelope was – once again – saved from saying anything when there was the sound of whistles and cheers. The three of them glanced towards the noise and saw some musicians ambling across a stage on the far end of room, carrying guitars and trumpets; one man was even holding a sheet of wood. Following them and eliciting more cheers were three women, dark hair knotted on their heads and accented with large flowers, and white dresses that clung like elastic in the bodice and floated in the skirt.
"What is this, Penelope?" Ginny asked.
"Flamenco dancers," Penelope replied; no one noticed the hard edge to her usually sultry voice. "I forgot about them – they perform just about every night at midnight."
Ginny was interested to see the dance and settled her back against the bar counter, waiting patiently for the performers to set up. The five or six musicians sat down in chairs along the back of the stage, strumming their guitar strings or warming his horn up with a few short notes. The women did a few last minute stretches, bending their arms behind their neck or reaching for their toes. Finally, as the crowds' noise level reached a fevered pitch, the women arranged themselves in a stance that alerted the audience they were about to begin.
When all was quiet – Ginny had almost forgotten what silence sounded like – the trumpet players, instruments in their laps, started to clap out a rapid rhythm. Ginny was barely focusing on them before the dancers began their performance, drawing her attention.
The dance started out slow, exotic, despite the fast clapping. The women swayed, their skirts swirling about their legs, flourishing their arms in the air with fluid movements. Every time the man pounded the wooden block with a particularly loud thump, they would slide their feet with the beat.
Eventually, they began to rap their feet in a quicker fashion, much like a tap-dancer. They would join in on every thump with a clap; slap rhythms out on their thighs; turn their heads with the beat. When the guitar entered, the dance became even more frantic, yet unbelievably controlled and incredibly sensual.
It went on for nearly five minutes, and despite the sheen of sweat on the dancers' face, Ginny saw they never ceased to smile at the crowd, honestly enjoying what they were doing. They weren't fazed by the laughs and catcalls that were obviously outrageous; Ginny didn't have to speak the language to understand that.
When it was all over, Ginny clapped enthusiastically and shouted her appreciation, but the only thing that made her aware she was making a sound at all was the soreness in her throat. The entire bar was filled with pounding feet and screams as the ladies took a few bows, blew kisses to everyone, and waved goodbye. As soon as they filed off the stage, the musicians began to play a loud, upbeat song that made Ginny feel she was indeed in Spain.
She didn't think about Malfoy once more for the rest of the night.
* * *
Wednesday, 12 March, 2003
Likewise, Draco was not thinking much about Weasley. As Tuesday night progressed, his mood steadily deteriorated. He tried to read some of the books from his trunks, but couldn't concentrate. The more he tried, the more his mind strayed.
Finally, a little after midnight Draco went to bed. He wasn't going to wait up for them any longer. By then he was so upset that in the moments before sleep, he ran through his knowledge of hexes and picked the ones he wanted to use on them, if they even dared to step foot into his room during the middle of the night.
He slept soundly. It was almost nine when he blinked awake, noticing how bright the sun was. He was normally an early riser – he felt unaccomplished when he slept in.
He didn't dwell on the time; he got out of bed and left the room in his underwear, wondering if Pansy and Blaise had come by earlier and left already, knowing they would be seriously hurt if they disturbed him. But once again, there was no note or indication the two had been there.
Draco swore irritably. Where were they? Was it possible they had gone ahead to Greece without him? Pansy had been up in arms when he'd told her he had to spend the day with Weasley. It wouldn't be surprising if she'd dragged Blaise alone with her, just to spite him.
In a brilliantly abominable mood, Draco took a shower in hopes of calming down. He didn't. As soon as he was dressed, he pocketed his wand – the familiarity of it in his pocket gave him a brief thrill of satisfaction before his horrible mood smothered it – and left his flat. He wouldn't wait around any longer, even if they were still in Spain.
Knowing he'd feel better once he found a way to contact them, he set off in search of anything wizard.
He walked for a few hours, slowly feeling better. The day was a bit cloudy and humid, but pleasant enough, and the fresh air helped clear his mind. He was actually pleased, his hostility forgotten, when he found what he was looking for.
He discovered the Madrid equivalent of Diagon Alley – Esquina del Encanto – mostly by luck. As he was walking along the pavement and studying the shops briefly, his eyes ran over the words Owls for All and he had to do a double take. Owls for All. Muggles didn't sell owls.
The shop was small and clearly not visible to those who weren't looking for it. Upon entering, Draco asked the man behind the counter where he could find an Owlry. He was shown a backdoor that led directly into Esquina del Encanto.
It lacked the bustling activity Diagon Alley had, but Draco didn't care. Straight away he was attracted to the broom shop, where the latest model was displayed in the front window. SilverWing 2000. The newest one he could remember was a Firebolt 360. His expression of awe and desire reflected the young boys' who stood around him; they whispered excitedly about how fast it could go and how easily it turned, and they lamented at how much it cost.
He remained there for nearly ten minutes.
Finally, he remembered why he was here in the first place and set off for the Owlry. After scribbling a brief note − Where the hell are you? ~ D − and watching the owl soar away, he perused through the rest of Esquina del Encanto. He was upset to discover that he knew most of the news in the paper; Ginny had explained most of the highlights to him. So he went to the shops that were his favorites as a child – anyplace that had anything Quidditch, sweets, as well as the reptile houses – and spent most of the day there.
When Draco finally came out of Owls for All, back into the Muggle street, it was nearly dark. He decided it would be best to Apparate back home, just in case Pansy and Blaise were waiting for him.
They were. In his kitchen he found Blaise's head in the refrigerator and Pansy seated on the counter. He felt a stirring of what could've been relief; it vanished and fury replaced it.
"Hello, Draco," Pansy said dryly, instantly sensing his frame of mind.
"Do you have anything to eat?" Blaise complained, straightening and glaring in Draco's direction. "Oh, please, what are you so angry about?"
"Three guesses," Draco snapped.
"We were working," Pansy said throatily, sliding to the floor. "Everything turned out more difficult than expected."
"And I suppose it was too hard to take a three minute break to let me know what was going on?" Draco demanded softly. "I've been waiting since last night, and you know very well I don't wait very patiently −"
"Since last night, eh?" Blaise interrupted coolly, grinning. "Spent the entire day with Weasley, did you?"
Draco nearly stuttered. "I didn't see her at all," he managed cleanly. "I spent the entire day looking for wizarding shops."
Pansy was smirking, as if she knew the truth, but said nothing on the subject. "You'll be happy to know that we've secured a way to the blueprints," she told him instead.
"Will I?"
"Rafe Tannar is Gaius Tannar's cousin. He owns the villa in Greece where the blueprints are being held," Pansy explained shortly. Her smirk was slowly turning into her I-am-a-bloody-genius smile. "And guess who just booked a holiday at that very same villa for herself and two brothers?"
Draco couldn't contain his surprise. "You did?"
"That's where I was all night and most of the day," Pansy said, waving her hand as if it were nothing. "While Blaise was researching where the blueprints themselves were being held, I hunted out Gaius. He finally came to his senses and realized it didn't matter what his wife thought of me. I stayed the past twenty-four hours in his cottage on the Mediterranean. All I had to do was simper about how much I was dying to go to Athens, but simply couldn't afford to stay there, and he was Flooing his cousin to ask if I could stay at his villa. I mentioned I wanted my brothers to accompany me, and poof – that was all arranged." She paused, pleased with herself. "It's quite handy to have Gaius eating out of my palm. I think I'll keep him around."
Blaise pretended to vomit in the sink as Draco processed what Pansy had just told him. "We're going to stay in the very same house as the blueprints?" he confirmed.
"Yes. Granted, it would be good practice if we tried to break in," Pansy relented, jamming Blaise particularly hard in the ribs with her wand, "but it will be so much simpler this way."
"What's guarding the blueprints directly?"
Blaise, holding his side and wincing slightly, lifted a hand to demonstrate that was his area of expertise. "A few spells, nothing we can't break through," he answered. "Most of them are used somewhere in Azkaban and we've already figured out how to crack through those. The most rudimentary of the lot."
"It's still no walk in the park," Pansy interjected.
"True, but we know how to do it," said Blaise grimly. "The hardest part, however, will be getting past the guards."
"How will we?" Draco frowned.
"I roughly sketched it out," Blaise said, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "We Stupefy three of them – separately, when they're in their rooms or somewhere else private – and take their places. Simple batch of Polyjuice Potion. Then we Stupefy the rest; there are only six total, so that leaves one for each of us. We stun them at the same time and they won't remember what happened. We enter the room with the blueprints, set the originals back, and leave."
Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You really think it will be that simple?"
"No," Blaise shrugged, "but it's something to go on. We'll improvise once we get there, if we have to."
"Speaking of which," Pansy announced, "I informed Rafe Tannar we will be arriving tonight. We're going by Floo. Get some things together, Draco."
Draco, previous anger at the two forgotten, obeyed. He threw some clothes into his trunk and returned to the kitchen, ready to leave. They were going to Floo from Pansy's flat, as Draco's fireplace wasn't hooked up to the Network.
As he shut the door behind him, he couldn't help but feel slightly relaxed at the thought of putting distance between him and Ginny Weasley.
If only he'd known how close by Ginny was. The minute the door clicked shut, Ginny Weasley crept out from behind the couch, a Disillusionment Charm concealing her against the wall.
* * *
Ginny's morning started out horribly enough. Against her will, she lifted her fifty-pound eyelids to discover she was not in her room or even a bed. She was on the carpeted – though hard – floor without as much as a pillow. Groaning, she sat up. Her head felt like it was split open and her stomach was rumbling violently like an ocean in the middle of a windstorm.
She wanted to die.
Blinking around the room, she saw the lump of a person in the bed, buried under the blankets. She saw a mane of thick brown hair and the night's events came rushing back at her.
Oh, God, how late had they stayed out? Well into the wee hours of the morning, that was for sure. The last time she'd consulted her watch it had been three . . . or maybe it was a quarter after twelve, she couldn't really be positive. Her eyes couldn't have been too focused, what with her having consumed her body weight in alcohol.
But Christ, had she had fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed herself so much. Drinking without a care, dancing so idiotically she nearly wet herself from laughing, shouting out random and silly things . . . if she had to compliment Penelope on one thing, it was her idea of a good time.
Across the room, Ginny saw a mound of empty sheets on the floor and guessed that was where Maili had slept. Where was she?
As Maili heard her thoughts, she stepped in to the room from the connecting bathroom, levitating a china pot and three cups. Noticing Ginny awake, she beamed a wide smile that made Ginny marvel at how she could stretch her face when her head had to be killing her.
"Good morning, Ginny," she said, setting the pot and cups on the bedside table. "And good morning to you, you great lump," she added, ruffling the mass of blankets that was Penelope. The reply she got was a mumbling of swears and threats.
"If that's some Remedy Tea you've got there, I'm your new best friend," Ginny said, her voice still thick with sleep, as Maili poured from the pot.
"That's precisely what I've got," she replied, flicking her wand and sending the cup hurrying over to Ginny. "It's dim in here, but I can see from over here you look like crap. You must be less Irish than I thought; don't take drinking too well, do you?"
"I take drinking just fine," Ginny mumbled, blowing on the steaming tea. "It's the morning after I can't handle."
Maili laughed, crossing the room to pull open the draperies. Bright sunlight poured into the room; Ginny cried out and turned her face away. Penelope groaned in protest and rolled over. "There, that's a bit more cheery, isn't it?" Maili said happily.
Ginny took a hurried sip from her tea. Though it scalded her tongue, she appreciated the warmth spreading through her as it slipped down her throat, the sensation similar to that of slipping slowly into a hot bath. Her stomach calmed a bit and the pounding in her brain abated.
"So what shall we do today, girls?" Maili questioned, sitting on the foot of the bed. "Take the day and go to Valencia, see what there is to be seen there? I'm afraid we'll have to take Kevin along with us, but most of the time he's an angel, as long as he's got some toy to occupy him. . . ."
Ginny gave a small smile. "I can't do anything today, Maili," she said apologetically. "I need to get back to work." Her head gave an exceptionally painful throb.
"Oh yes!" Maili cried enthusiastically, negating Ginny's expectations; she thought Maili would be upset. "That's right, your little undercover assignment. Well, I'll be glad to help you. I'm sure Penelope will be, too," she sang, reaching back to nudge her.
"Fucough," Penelope half-moaned, half-whined.
"That's sweet of you, but it's something I should do on my own," Ginny insisted, already feeling the regret of telling them mix in with her queasy stomach. She swiftly took another sip of tea. "What time is it, by the way?"
"Nearly noon," Maili said. She laughed as Ginny jerked, surprised, and spilled her drink into her lap. "Yes, you did miss breakfast, but lunch should be ready in a couple of hours −"
"I need to go," Ginny interrupted, rising. The room swayed and the floor seemed unsteady, but after a moment or two she regained her balance enough to stumble to the door. "I have so much work to do," she added over her shoulder, taking another few sips of her tea. "I need to find out where Malfoy lives; I have no idea how to find him, and for all I know he could be halfway to China by now. . . ."
"You don't know where to find him?" Maili pressed, taken aback. Ginny stood with her hand on the doorknob, hurrying to finish her tea. "So what do you propose to do, just knock door to door until he answers?"
"I'll think of something," Ginny assured her, once again berating herself for letting that confession slip. "Thanks for the tea, Maili, and thank Penelope for a great night −"
"Just wait a moment, Ginny," said Maili firmly, getting to her feet and striding over to place herself in front of the door. "I might be able to help you."
Ginny wasn't sure why she was so reluctant to be helped, but she felt like this was her problem and she needed to deal with it. Already she was frightened of the fact that Maili and Penelope knowing her true business might lead to it somehow blowing up in her face; it would be better if she just kept them as far out of this mess as she could. "Really, I don't −" she began.
"Have you ever heard of a Locator Spell?" Maili plowed on, undiscouraged.
"I don't need your hel – a what?"
"Locator Spell," she repeated.
"Yes, but those can't be used on people −"
"So they say," said Maili, starting to grin knowingly. "But my grandmother taught me a whole bunch of spells that, according to my mother, were just a bunch of old witches' tales. Mostly, they were useless because they were so random that such a situation never arose that called for their power. There was one, though, that stuck out in my mind because I always thought, This might be practical someday. And that was the Locator Spell."
Ginny released a breath, wishing her head would stop thumping so excruciatingly and let her think clearly. "What would I need to do?" she said tonelessly.
"Well, it's a very simple, actually," Maili told her, eyes lighting up at the realization Ginny was letting her help. "Just a little flick like this" – She demonstrated with her wand – "Along with Repertum Viri . . . and . . . oh no."
"What?"
"I forgot," Maili said sadly, looking downright depressed. "The person needs to be tapped by the wand in order for it to work."
Ginny blinked. "In order to locate a person, they need to be standing directly beside you?" That does sound like a load of rubbish, she thought, but didn't want to hurt Maili's feelings.
"The spell works as soon as they're away from you," she replied, "at least, that's what Grandmam told me. She said that for the next twenty-four hours, you know exactly where that person is. But . . . they need to be present. . . ." She trailed off, sounding like she was already lost in her thoughts. A moment later, just as Ginny was beginning to think it was time to leave, her eyes lit up, indicating she'd had a wonderful epiphany. "A picture!" she exclaimed, and as Ginny's mind was already on other things and had long since abandoned the Locator Spell idea, it took her a second to register what on earth she meant. "Do you have a photograph of him?"
Ginny was reluctant to answer. She could very well simply lie and say no, and retreat quietly back to her room and work alone . . .
But what will it hurt? a voice demanded. What do you have to lose? Frankly, she needed all the help that was offered to her at this point. Any sort of plan was better than the one she had.
"Yes," she said tiredly, "it's in my room. I'll be just a minute."
Ten minutes later, Penelope was rolling out of bed languorously, lured by the appeal of seeing how the spell worked, and Ginny and Maili were sitting across from each other on the floor, cross-legged. In between them sat a picture of Malfoy crossing the street.
"Oh, he's awfully good-looking," Maili commented. "Penelope, you would like this. He seems like your type."
Ginny felt an odd twinge in the midst of her rumbling stomach. Instantly she felt her face flame with embarrassment; there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. She was better off not being Malfoy's type. In fact, Penelope and he would be perfect for each other.
Subject closed.
Penelope, wearing nothing but a thin, sleeveless white shirt and underwear, joined them on the floor. Her hair was mussed, her eyes heavy with sleep, and she had creases on her face from lying on the blankets funny. Ginny would have laughed if she hadn't been so depressed at the task that lay ahead of her once she proved to Maili this spell didn't work.
"All right, are you set?" demanded Maili. "Got your wand?"
As it was in Ginny's hand and clearly visible, she merely gave Maili a look.
"Okay then." She clapped her hands once. "Remember, it's a little flick like this . . . then tap the photograph directly on him . . . and then Repertum Viri as you hold your wandtip still."
"Got it," Ginny assured her.
She lifted the photograph in her free hand slightly off the ground, and the three of them pressed their heads together and peered down. Malfoy exited the picture, having reached the opposite street, and then reappeared on the other side.
I suppose it's worth a shot, Ginny thought.
She flicked her wand as Maili had demonstrated, pressed the tip against Malfoy's form, following him as he hurried along, and said loudly and clearly, "Repertum Viri."
She honestly wasn't expecting anything. Truly. But if she had been, she thought it would've taken a couple of seconds to actually happen.
She felt it immediately.
There was a bright flash, and then it was like being shoved backwards by two strong hands. One moment she was staring at the floor and picture, and the next she was blinking up at the ceiling, flat on her back. Her wand was hanging loosely in her hand, and the photograph was now just a picture of a street. There was a perfect cutout where Malfoy had been, its outline blackened as though scorched.
"Whoa," Penelope said, fully awake.
"Did it work?" Maili shrieked.
Ginny slowly sat up, concentrating. It did, she realized vaguely. In her mind's eye, she had a perfect vision of a fancily furnished, completely Muggle home. It was as if she'd been there dozens of times, as if she lived there, as if she was there at that very moment. She could walk from the living room, into the kitchen, into the bedroom . . . everything was as clear as day.
But the most important thing was that she knew precisely how to get there.
* * *
She hid there most of the day, Disillusionment Charm securely in place. Draco wasn't home all afternoon, and she'd convinced Maili and Penelope – not so easily, mind – that she had to do this alone and that she would hex them into next year if they dared to come with her, so she aimlessly wandered the place, bored, afraid to touch anything. She didn't want Draco to know anyone had been there messing with his things.
She knew where he was at the moment. He was in some sort of wizarding alley. She felt like she was living two lives; hers and Malfoy's, both simultaneously. Weirder still, she could sense some of his emotions; at first he was livid, then he was delighted, then he was nostalgic . . . it was constantly changing. Now that she'd found where he lived, she wanted the spell to wear off soon. She didn't want to feel Draco Malfoy's feelings and live Draco Malfoy's life for the rest of hers. But Maili had said it would last for twenty-four hours, so she still had some time to go.
She didn't leave the flat. She didn't follow him into the wizarding alley. By all accounts she should have. Wasting the day in his home achieved nothing, only the knowledge that he wasn't leaving Madrid in the near future. But she didn't leave. Once Draco came home, she decided she would spy on him. Find out what made him tick. And when the time was right, she would confront him again.
* * *
As soon as the three ex-Slytherins left the flat, Ginny sank down onto the couch with a heavy, bewildered sigh.
What had she just witnessed?
Draco is up to something. And he's not in it alone.
Ginny now knew who that black-haired man was. Once she'd seen him side-by-side with Pansy Parkinson (who Ginny would always remember until her dying day; the woman had buried herself so deeply into her mind), her memory had shouted out a name. Blaise Zabini. Another former Slytherin.
She couldn't recall much about Blaise; he'd always been quiet, dark, and dangerous. Though some of the younger girls had thought him handsome, Ginny had never particularly been attracted to him. She had assumed it was the same reason she'd never been attracted to Draco Malfoy; he wasn't a good person. But then, look how she felt now – she found Draco unusually appealing, and she knew for a fact he wasn't a decent human being.
Pansy, on the other hand, would always be a vivid reminiscence. In her sixth year, she had failed Charms – quite giftedly, too, with a ten percent for the entire year. She'd had to repeat sixth year Charms in her seventh year, and as the only open slot in her schedule had been when the current sixth year Gryffindors were in lessons; she had been dumped with them.
Ginny had despised the girl, to say the least. Pansy was snobby, malicious, and stupid. Oh, not stupid in the knowledge sorts – she was actually clever, and the only reason she failed was because she felt she was too above the work to actually do it. No, she was stupid in the sense of ignorance. She had no idea of anything but the world she'd grown up in. Second-hand books and clothing? Such a thing did not exist. Not getting what she wanted? Such a thing was never considered. The Dark Lord killing and ruining lives? Such a thing was a lie.
Though Ginny had never spoken with Pansy directly, their desks had been nearby and she'd heard every word Pansy had said to anyone who would listen. From that, she'd deduced what an awful personality the Slytherin had and had always felt uncharacteristically spiteful towards her.
What was Draco up to, still keeping in contact with the two of them? Wasn't he supposed to be dead to everyone but the Ministry?
Clearly not, she comprehended. He must trust Parkinson and Zabini rather well. They could easily turn him over to the Ministry – so easily it almost makes me uneasy.
There had to be some reason why the three of them were sticking with one another, especially when one was supposed to be dead to everyone who knew him. But Ginny could not, for the life of her, sort through the information she'd just overheard to come up with an explanation.
She heard enough to deduce that they were on their way to Athens, Greece, to stay at a Rafe Tannar's villa. She heard the mention of spells on Azkaban, blueprints, and guards. She could even make the correlation between most of it; Rafe Tannar's villa contained blueprints, which were being watched over by guards.
What did Azkaban have to do with it?
Perhaps it was just some random analogy comparing the difficulty of the spells around the blueprints to that of those in Azkaban. Perhaps it didn't mean anything. Perhaps he didn't even say Azkaban at all . . . but Ginny certainly couldn't come up with a word that sounded remotely similar.
And what were the blueprints of? Azkaban? Something else entirely? What did the repeated mention of Gaius Tannar mean? Was he as important as his cousin, Rafe? Was Rafe even relevant to all that was going on?
Ginny could feel the repeat of the morning's headache roaring back to life. Running her fingers through her hair, she inhaled deeply and blew the air out loudly.
Why is this so damn complicated?
Well, one thing was for sure. If she wanted answers, she would have to secure herself a holiday at the Tannar villa. Resolved by her decision, she stood up and tried to shake vigor back into her limp body.
She would find just exactly what Draco Malfoy was up to.
* * *
Notes: I made up the layout of Bocaíto, because quite obviously I've never been there. Other than that, everything is pretty much accurate about it.
Also, a mistake I made previously was to have the inn's lunch be at one p.m., when normally it's eaten at two or later in Madrid. As well as Ginny and Draco's meeting time the day before; instead of one, it's now two.
Esquina del Encanto – means pretty much "enchantment corner".
Repertum Viri – I had the meaning of this written down somewhere, and couldn't find it. Then I went back to the site I got it from and couldn't find it again. So suffice to say it means something like "locate" and "man" or something to that effect. And it probably doesn't even mean that because online translators suck. But you know what I was getting at.
A/N: Next chapter: lovely, lovely Greece, plenty of D/G action, and shirtless!wet!Draco. What more could you want?
Great news! I've got someone who wants to draw fanart for me! I'm so excited. Here's the first picture gorgeous picture, by Lauren, of D/Gness:
http: // img7.photobucket. com /albums/v21/scrumtriliscent/ibelieveinathingcalledlove.jpg (just be sure to get rid of all the spaces, because otherwise stupid ff.net wouldn't let me put this link in here).
Thanks to the reviewers!
Twinsofthesky (blah colds are gay. Hope you feel better now. Of course it's coming…soon…), Jade Summers (whoa, how many updates is that? I suppose I could count across and then count down and then multiply…but my brain is frazzled, having gotten up at 6:20 this morning…on a Saturday. Anyway, thanks!), LilJenReeds (shanks very much!), Icy Lullaby (everyone suspects Penelope! Haha, it's kind of funny. Thanks!), animefanatic 0 7 (sorry sorry, hope this one's a bit more to your liking with length. Thanks, I wanted to give a little background on Draco so people can kind of understand him a bit more. And I FINALLY saw the PoA trailer – I got so frustrated I went to warnerbros.com and watched it, hee. I didn't watch the Superbowl – I was working. Well, I lie. I got home at half time and caught Janet's boob. Then I got mad cause Kid Rock was there and he insults me because he's ass ugly – no offense if you like him – and I drifted onto the computer…story of my life, haha), anonymousHGDV (and I shall love you forever…for, uh, being you!), Nobodysbitch (thanks, I was afraid it was kind of tedious. Thanks!), Static (a kiss in the next one, promise! Thank you much!), Amanda (Thanks, I'm enjoying writing it! And yes, I do plan on updating again soon, probably within a couple of weeks), KeeperOfTheMoon (haha thanks!), MoonDevil99 (glad you like it!), Charmed-Goddess-07 (she followed him quite easily, actually…almost too easily, eh? Thanks!), FlavaOftheweek (snoot! That's the new word of the week. That's tieeght. Glad that at least one of your favorites is posting ;) Haha and your one of the few who thinks Ginny needs to be nice to Penelope – everyone thinks she's evil!), Nichole Malfoy (but of course!), xangelcrisisx (haha Ginny just rambles and rambles. And yes, Draco is a total prick. That's how we like him!), dragongirlG (we shall! I like this Draco a bit, too…*pets him lovingly* And yes, Penelope took them somewhere), Ili (I decided it was time to make an evil!Narcissa. She's been redeemed far too much), Mixuhi Sakura (thank you! I'm extremely flattered. Hope you continue to enjoy it!), Luna Writer (nope, it's not just you. Shtuff does happen), Madison27 (Yes, what is up with Narcissa? Very curious. Actually, he went to Greece, not France, but it's all good. And Pansy and Blaise are still around, of course), Sakura1287 (haha I think I would've gone home now too. It's a good thing Ginny secretly wants to ravish Draco underneath it all, eh? I'm flattered you still follow this!), Brooke Kenobi (Haha how could I let my fans wait for so long? I've done it far too much. Hmm, Maili does seem more suspicious then Penelope, doesn't she? Because she's so sweet she must be hiding something you know? Well, she's actually not, but…I can see where you're getting that. Woo! I totally surprised you with Narcissa. That was the goal. After you kill Voldemort, you need to think up new villains, you know? And what better than a villainess? Thanks for the review!), Miss Auburn (woo thanks!), Bess3 (I updated indeed. Haha, I'm glad I keep you interested with all the crazy, mad wild twists. That's my goal. Of course I'll keep it going. Thanks!), VioletJersey (hello lovely! D/G shipper…you know, that was funny, I was just thinking of that the other day. As you know The Brother Amulets is my first fic, and I remember sitting on my couch one day during summer of 2001, thinking, I want to write an HP fic using the characters already created. And I knew I wanted Draco in it. And I got the plot of The Brother Amulets all figured out, but you know who it was originally? HERMIONE. Yes. Just think. If I hadn't been struck with the idea to use Ginny, I'd be a hardcore Hermione/Draco shipper now. Frightening, no? Ahem…great story, huh? Want me to tell it again?), ginnymalfoy79 (whee thanks for ALL the reviews! Building plot is important, however boring. Thanks again!), Tinka (oooh nice guess! But you'll just have to see. Thanks!), and Mitchy (thank you much!).