A/N. And… here you go…

Sorry about the long wait, I'm embarrassed. But here's a nice plot-driven chapter for you all!

…~oOo~…

Chapter Sixteen: In Which The Girls Run

Chelsea hadn't mastered that feeling of being lifted and dropped that came with using the Floo network. So when they arrived in the fireplace in Malfoy's flat, she stumbled, catching herself on the mantle before she could fall. Mag landed gracefully, stepping out of the fireplace easily and opening her mouth to say something.

But Chelsea's ears were ringing and for some reason, that made her hold a finger out to silence Margot.

"Draco? Is that you in the Floo?" a voice came from the other room.

Mag's eyes popped open wide and she grabbed Chelsea's hand, pulling her up and right to the coat closet a few feet away. It was already ajar and she shoved her into it, closed it just enough not to make "shutting" sound doors were notorious for. They heard the footsteps and the smack of a walking stick.

"Where have you been? I've put on tea…" The man's deep, smooth drawl trailed off. "Draco?" he said. "Who's there?" he said darkly. He paused. "Miss Beauregard? My name is Lucius Malfoy, and I assure you, I mean you no harm… Your protector, Draco, he's my son."

Oh, no. Chelsea bit her lip. She didn't trust Draco, there was less reason to trust his father. They were all part of that organization, all part of the Ministry in odd ways. Lucius Malfoy was part of the reason she couldn't attend Hogwarts, that much she knew from listening in on Order meetings.

Chelsea couldn't see anything, but felt and heard Mag rustling around. Poking her to warm her of the noise she made, Chelsea bit deeper into her lip. Then all motion stopped when the slap of the walking stick stopped right outside the cupboard door. The girls held their breath, and Chelsea held onto a fistful of Mag's jumper. Then, faintly, Chelsea heard a sizzling sound, a light crackling. And felt some heat by her hand.

And when the cupboard door blew open, revealing an imposing blonde man, Mag lifted the handheld firework up by his face and the thing went off brilliantly, scalding his nose and setting fire to his hair.

"ARGH!" Lucius Malfoy roared, batting at his face and falling all over in his panic. Margot and Chelsea ran past him, Margot shoving him down into the glass coffee table for good measure. The table shattered and the man was still on fire.

Mag had Chelsea's wrist in his grip as she ran to a bedroom, went to the wardrobe, and shoved aside the clothing, grabbing at the wall frantically until she found the invisible knob and yanked the thing open. She shoved Chelsea inside, followed after, closing the wardrobe doors behind them.

The dark, dusty space was very cramped, but as Chelsea felt around she realized there was space to move back. As she scooted back, she realized there was no stopping. It was a crawlspace much bigger than the inside of a wall, but only big enough to go one-by-one and on their hands and knees.

"Keep moving," Margot whispered, nudging Chelsea's bum. Chelsea did, dragging her satchel of belongings alongside her, but gasped when she put her hand forward and found no more floor.

"What is it?" Margot asked.

"It's a drop," Chelsea whispered.

"How far down?"

Chelsea took her wand with a shaking hand and cast a Lumos. It was a narrow hole, big enough for one small body to slip down at once. But the light didn't reach the bottom, which didn't instill great comfort in Chelsea. It was more than a few feet. She reached into her pocket and found a coin. She dropped it over the hole. She counted four full seconds before she heard it hit the floor.

Mag heard the drop as well and twisted her mouth in thought.

"Move aside," Mag said, squeezing past Chelsea. "I'll go first and try to catch you."

"I'll crush you," Chelsea hissed, wide-eyed.

"You're lighter than me," Mag assured her. "Like a twig. It'll be fine."

And before Chelsea could stop her, Mag had jumped. Chelsea winced, waiting for Mag to drop. When she did, though, it wasn't nearly as awful as Chelsea had imagined. "Are you alright?" Chelsea asked down the rabbit hole.

"Perfect," Mag answered up from the darkness. "Landed on my arse. Come on, I'm ready."

Even in the dark, Chelsea felt the need to squeeze her eyes shut before scooting and dropping herself into the drop.

…~oOo~…

They were all in their pajamas and sleeping robes. Many wore slippers, Luna's were bunnies. And everyone tried very hard to ignore the elephant in the room – that in all of the panic of two children being missing, Hermione had donned Malfoy's shirt with her blue shorts and tall, warm, fuzzy striped socks. The midnight pajama party consisted of Luna, Hermione, Neville, Krum, Harry, Ron, and McGonagall who had swept in wearing a long nightgown and thick, burgundy robe once the news of missing children had come through her Floo at Hogwarts. Krum was still mostly asleep on the sofa next to Minverva, his head back and his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Draco was the only one absent among those who knew about the runaways. He'd gone through the Floo to their last destination.

Hermione paced the wood floors, her socks slipping occasionally. Luna was chewing on the end of her long blonde braid and Neville was rubbing his girlfriend's back comfortingly, though honestly he seemed to be more troubled. Minerva sipped tea. Harry's foot was tapping furiously with anxiety. The room was silent.

The Floo flared and they all honed in on it like it was a sacred artifact and they were devout, waiting for its knowledge. Out came Draco and he looked deeply annoyed. He said nothing at first, just tossed a bauble onto the table. It was a charred piece of cardboard colored with orange and purple. It smelt like sulfur.

"The girls had a run-in with my father, it seems," Draco said. "Though the girls are clever. They used their little firework project from the twins' workshop the other day to…distract him while they escaped."

Neville's eyes popped. "What exactly did they do?"

Draco smirked wryly. "Let's just say my father will be in need of a haircut."

"How did they escape?" Luna inquired.

"Neither of them have stepped foot in Diagon Alley in their lives," Minerva said, her firm tone burning with concern.

"They went out the escape hatch, I'm sure," Draco said. "It was part of the emergency plan I had in place for Margot. It would have deposited them behind the bookstore. But they weren't in that alley, I checked. And I couldn't stay for too long. With my father watching, I had to send word to Snow that Margot is gone."

Hermione shook her head and chewed on her thumbnail. "Now Snow will be looking for her too. And when they find Margot, they'll find Chelsea."

"Not if we find them first," Harry said with determination.

"How?" Hermione demanded. "Half of us are blacklisted! We can't send a search party of fugitives into Diagon Alley when it's crawling with Ministry officials and Death Eaters!"

"The only people here who truly can't be seen in Diagon Alley are you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter," Minerva told her. "And myself, as I am supposed to be at Hogwarts. But Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Lovegood are purebloods, as well as Mr. Malfoy. They can search with relative safety."

"Luna and I never got our blood status paperwork," Neville said, shaking his head. "If we were stopped by officials and asked for our papers… to Azkaban we'd go."

Minerva huffed. "Listen to me. I may not like this system any more than either of you, but those of us who can carry papers, must. So when happenings such as these come about, the Order is able to have people on the street without worry."

"None of that is important right now," Draco said. "We have to find Margot and Chelsea before Snow does. Or my father. He's sent out house-elves while he 'recovers'. The only real thing that needs recovery is his dignity, though, after being bested by a little girl."

"Did Lucius see Chelsea?" Hermione asked.

"No, he was blinded before he could see the girls," Lucius said. "They were hiding in a closet, waiting for him it sounds like."

"Why would they do this in the first place?" Hermione half-exploded, throwing her hands in the air. "They were going home tomorrow! If they wanted to leave, they were about to!"

"Margot wouldn't have been going home," Luna said, sounding sad. "Her mother has a deal with Snow. Margot would have stayed with Malfoy. Only Chelsea would have been returning home."

"Do you think maybe Margot was just planning to run away and Chelsea tagged along because they're friends?" Ron said from his armchair in the corner, speaking for the first time. "I mean, Harry, Hermione and I have done crazier things for friendship."

"But why without Adam?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed. "We wouldn't split up. Why would they?"

"None of that matters!" Draco said again, trying to bring focus to a group of Gryffindors – it wasn't an easy task. They all got sentimental and came up with stupid motives when planning would be more helpful. "Two girls who have never seen Diagon Alley before in their lives are missing out there and we need a search party! Weasley and Krum, you've got your papers, right? And the twins do too? Alright, you go fetch them and start looking around. Try not to look suspicious about it, alright?

"Lovegood and Longbottom, you two are bloody useless, but you should go to Grimmauld place and try to find some pureblood volunteers with papers – fake or real, doesn't matter – to go out. And for the love of all that's magic, make it clear that no one should look shady while doing this. Diagon Alley is heavily watched – if it looks like you're hunting for something, Ministry officials will be interested and stop you, if not follow you. So reign in your Gryffindor tendency to be obvious as a herd of Hippogriffs and just find those girls."

"I will do my best to stall Lucius in his interest in finding Margot himself," Minerva said with a grimace as she rose gracefully from the sofa. "Distract him with Hogwarts business. He's a horrible headmaster, but easily overwhelmed." With that, she left.

Ron and Viktor left as well to get his brothers and Luna and Neville headed to Grimmauld Place.

"What do we do?" Harry asked when it was only him, Hermione, and Draco left in the room. Harry didn't look thrilled with taking orders from Draco.

"We're taking muggle-borns home. No more waiting," Hermione said with conviction. "If you can borrow Hagrid's motorcycle, I'll get the Weasley's car. We'll take one at a time."

"No!"

They all turned in the direction of the protest. It was from a cupboard door. Draco sighed and marched over, wrenching the door open. Standing there, looking furious, was Adam.

"I'm not going home until I know Chelsea is safe!" Adam said brashly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco said, "Adam –"

"No!" the boy said, louder. "I need to talk to Chelsea!"

"We'll let you know when she's returned," Hermione said, "but for now, we are taking you home. It's where you're safest. Now go pack your things."

"Do as she says," Draco said sharply, narrowing his eyes at Adam. "I mean it. And don't you dare try joining the runaway parade, or so help me I'll skin you and make you into new Quidditch gear for Krum. The house is locked down. Don't even think about it."

Face red with anger, Adam ran out of the room.

Harry sighed and said, "I'll go see Hagrid."

"I'll be keeping an eye out in Knockturn Alley," Draco added, ducking into the Floo. As he threw down the powder, all he could think was, It's going to be a very long night.

…~oOo~…

"What do you bloody well mean you can find them?!" Ron shouted in the upstairs of the joke shop, standing in his brothers' flat, his leg aching like mad and now his head throbbing as well. And now, to find out that his stupid brothers actually had something to do with this madness with the girls – well, it was too much. He would have beat them both with his walking stick if he thought he could do so without falling over.

"They have a map," Fred said.

"And that map might be traceable," George said with a shrug.

"But how," Ron said through gritted teeth, his hand clenching tightly around his cane, "did they get this map? Because I happen to know two blokes who just might be fucking experts in finding and giving away magical maps."

George and Fred exchanged a look then both looked at Ron and shrugged in unison.

"Sounds like a couple of top notch blokes, if you ask me," George said, not even blinking.

"Yeah, real cool guys," Fred agreed. "Guys I'd like to be friends with."

Krum growled from the couch, his words unintelligible. He was still mostly asleep.

"Just trace the map," Ron snapped, "so I can go home and sleep!"

"We know exactly where the girls are," George said, getting serious, "and they're fine. Perfectly safe."

"If they want to run away, I don't see what the big deal is," Fred said. "We gave them the map so they can get to the Muggle world safely. Once they get out through the Leaky, they'll be fine."

"Fred, George," Ron said, his voice getting deeper and darker. "Either you tell me where the girls are or I kill you. It's easy as that."

"Two on one?" Fred said, arching an eyebrow skeptically. "I doubt it."

"Yeah," George said. "Krum's asleep and you're crippled. Easy win for us."

…

"I think we made a wrong turn," Margot whispered nervously when they found themselves in the back corner of a very dimly lit shop. They had been running from someone who'd spotted them in the shadows and went through the first door they found. It must have been a back entrance to the shop they were tucked in now.

It was dim – too dim to properly look for and buy things. Hanging from the ceiling like ornaments were instruments of steel and adorned with spikes, some sharp and others dull. On the walls were leering masks, peering down at the girls with empty, hollow eyes. Glass cases held jewelry carved from ivory and human bones with price tags. And at the front of the shop was a man behind a counter, talking very quietly to a customer in a clean, sharp silver suit.

When Margot saw the back of this man, his suit and his perfectly combed hair, she squeezed Chelsea's hand in alarm. It was Snow.

Neither of the men seem to have noticed the girls come in through the back, so they moved very carefully along the back wall, putting themselves behind shelves whenever possible.

Margot wanted to get out badly. But Chelsea's headache was getting bad and she found herself hopelessly drawn towards the objects on display. There was a vial made from a human vertebrae with a cork in the top of it. Also, a blade made of glass, reflecting Chelsea's green eyes back at her. With a particularly harsh throb of her head, though, Chelsea closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found blue eyes in the glass staring back at her. Crystalline blue eyes with blonde winged brows.

Chelsea looked behind herself and found no one except Mag who was hunched behind a rack of cloaks, eyes flicking all around, looking for an escape route.

The blade laid on top of a handkerchief. A very high quality handkerchief with lace along the edges, but a small tear in the lace. It was faded and thinned from age. And in one corner of it was the same symbol on the pocketwatch Chelsea found in the cellar of Moony's Academy. The triangle with a circle in the middle of it and a line bisecting them both. She reached out to touch it…

But then it started happening. Chelsea's vision became foggy. The world around her shifted, the shop changed. Tables were moved and there weren't as many items. It was lighter, cleaner, less dusty.

The dagger was no longer on the shelf.

The little bell over the door rang hollowly in her vision. In walked a smoky figure, both misty and solid. It only took one look for her to know it was the same man from her vision in the cellar, the man brewing the potion. He was as blonde and beautiful as she remembered. A gold chain dangled from the button of his waistcoat to his pocket – the watch. He wore a stout top hat that he removed from his head respectfully when he entered.

The layout of the shop in her vision had her right behind the front counter, standing beside a different man. An older gentleman dressed not nearly as finely as the blonde man walking in.

The men spoke. She could not hear their words, but saw the movement of their lips. The older man, the shop owner, seemed reluctant in whatever proposition the young man was making. But the blonde man saw this hesitation and gave the older man a genuine, assuring smile. From his pocket he took the glass blade wrapped in a fresh handkerchief, not yellowed with time, and held it out to the man gingerly.

This seemed to be what sold the older man. They shook hands and the shop owner led the younger gentleman towards the back of the store and to a loo. The blonde man laughed but clapped the shop owner on the back in good humor before taking out his wand and tracing a corner of tile. The tiles glowed and the blonde man bent down to lift it. With a flick of his wand there were stairs down the new hatch.

Chelsea was yanked from her vision by a sharp poking in her back from Margot. "Chelsea!" she hissed, frightened to find her friend in a mostly catatonic state.

"Oi!" a scratchy voice called from the front of the shop. "Who's back there?! Better think twice before robbin' me, you dirty thieves!" His boots slammed on the floor like thunder as he started towards them.

Chelsea emerged from her vision with a headrush, but took hold of Margot's hand and dragged her to the unused loo in the back, the shop owner hot on their tail. Chelsea slammed the door behind them, locking it.

By the time Mr. Borgin unlocked the door and threw it open, the girls had disappeared.

"Bloody, thievin', good for nothing miscreants," Mr. Borgin snarled, swiping his oily hair back from his face. He returned to the front of the shop, out of breath and agitated. "Beg my pardon, Minister," he huffed. "Kids these days don't have no respect, do they?"

"No, it appears they don't," Minister Snow replied, his voice smooth and indifferent.

"I'll get 'em next time," Mr. Borgin said snidely. "Funny, though. Most of the time it's the boys causin' problems. Never girls."

Snow perked up at that. "Girls? It was a girl?"

"Aye," Mr. Borgin confirmed. "Two of 'em."

"Two," Snow mused. "Did one have long dark hair? And blue eyes?"

"'Fraid I didn't get a good enough look," Mr. Borgin, scratched his chin. "One looked kind of like a boy, though. Don't think either was the girl you're out lookin' for, though. You said she was a pretty thing? Long black hair and blue eyes? Goes by Margot, yeah? I'll keep an eye out, sir. But you don't really see pretty little girls around these parts, no. They don't usually make it past the pubs in this ol' Knockturn Alley of ours."

…~oOo~…

"All this time arguing that we could go get the girls and have all this be done with!" Ron shouted. "Just tell me where they are and we can go talk to Hermione about where to go from there!"

Fred sighed and pulled a big piece of folded parchment from his pocket. "Well, the good news is the ink is still blue, which means they're still in magical London, if that makes you feel any better," Fred said as he leisurely began unfolding the map.

He spread it out on the kitchen table of the twins' flat for Ron to see. Unlike the Marauders' Map, it was a single layer map. No crazy folds or hidden spaces. It was quite big though.

George hummed as he looked around the map. But after a minute, he and Fred both swallowed and straightened up to look at each other.

"What?" Ron demanded. "What's wrong? What's with your faces?"

"Erm," George said, scratching the back of his neck. "The ink is blue, so they're definitely in magical London, but…"

"But they're gone," Fred said, dumbstruck. "Vanished. Their markers were little red stars and they're just…nowhere. But the ink is blue, so they're in Diagon Alley…"

"What does that mean then?" Ron commanded.

Fred and George looked at one another until George finally confessed with no lack of disress, "We haven't got a bloody clue."

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~