The man didn't look surprised to see her. She smiled at him, and he looked puzzled when she didn't produce something to sell. His shirt was heavy cotton today, a dark grey jacket over the top. Probably fine wool, from what she could tell, although to someone with a less trained eye it would pass for polyester.
"I'm buying today," she said, resting her hands on the counter.
"Oh?" the man said, "what did you have in mind?"
"Something pricey… although, if you don't have it, then information."
He cocked his head interestedly. He waited for her to continue.
"I brought a ring to you, a few months back. I'd like to get it back." She spread her hands apologetically. His eyes flickered alight with curiosity, then shook his head sadly.
"I'm sorry; that piece was very fine, and I sold it very soon after you brought it in."
"Is there any way for me to find out where it went?"
The man shrugged. "Not officially. I have several other nice pieces though… Ah, but you do not want other pieces. There was something special about that one ring?" He raised an eyebrow knowledgeably. Again, Ginny wondered if he was a wizard. She nodded.
"Then, off the books, for you are a very good customer of mine," he grinned, "I will let you know." He stepped away from the counter. "Mind the shop?" She nodded.
He went into a back room, closed the door. She heard him shuffling through a filing cabinet. After a long moment he came out holding a piece of paper. It was a receipt of sale.
"Look at it. Then I will put it back."
She did. A solid stone of dread settled in her stomach. The paper read, Pansy Parkinson, The Cottage, Wytham. The man took the paper back, and went to file it again. He came back out looking serious.
"Take care with that item," he said. "And do not take it by force. Such things must be given, not taken. Or they tend to take back." And he glanced at her left hand, then met her eyes again and turned away to sort some goods. Ginny's heart was pounding a million miles an hour, but she turned and walked calmly from the shop.
When she returned to the kitchen at the Leaky Cauldron, she was in a sort of daze. Molly and Maude were clucking around Snape, who had commandeered a corner of the kitchen, much to their disgust.
"Ginny, dear, tell this man to get out of my kitchen," Maude demanded. Molly turned to her daughter, and both women now wore identical expressions of frustration, and both had their hands on their hips. Ginny just walked past them, went over to Snape. He was finished with the potion, putting it into bottles. He put the last bottle down just as she reached him. He spoke without looking up, turning his attention to the dirty cauldron.
"He will stay here. I will take one of your rooms too, though I will not pay for it." He raised his eyes to challenger her, but turned from what he was doing when he saw that Ginny's eyes were glazed. He caught her forearms in his hands, shook her slightly. "Girl, what did you find out?"
She looked up. "I am doubly damned," she replied. "The rings… don't like being taken by force. Or stealth. And the Pearls… extract a price for their power. I… don't know if I am strong enough to pay both prices." She tried to turn away, but Snape held her where she was.
"Take this bottle up to Draco. Stir one drop into half a glass of water and make him drink the whole thing. Then do the same for yourself. And go and get some sleep. You won't fix this by collapsing in the kitchen." Ginny was surprised at his sentiment, but she couldn't comment – it was all she could do to nod, collect the bottle and climb some stairs. She left Molly and Maude clucking behind her.
Malfoy was in a first-floor room, like herself. She didn't quite know how she knew which room was his, but in her daze the first door that she opened was his. He was sitting in the armchair beside the window which looked out over the Muggle street. Ginny wandered in, trying to get a hold on herself.
"Snape sent me up with this," she announced. Malfoy nodded, not turning away from the window. Ginny sat on the bed, poured half a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table, and let a single drop of the vile-looking black concoction fall into it. She swirled it thoroughly, and handed it over. "Drink it all," she instructed. Again, Malfoy nodded, though he made no move to take the glass. Ginny repeated the process for herself, then drank the mixture down as quickly as she could.
"There are so many things I wanted to do," Malfoy said, still staring out the window.
"That's nice, Malfoy," Ginny replied. Her whole body tingled – from the tips of her toes up to the crown of her head.
"I wanted to see the beaches in Greece," he said. "I wanted to sample wines from every region in France. I wanted to be put in Witches Weekly as most handsome wizard. I wanted to find Harry Potter and shake some sense into him, make him tell them all what really happened out there… back then. I wanted to apologise to Severus…" He trailed off.
"You're rambling," Ginny said firmly. "Drink the potion Snape's made for you, and be thankful that you may have a chance to do all those things." She put the glass into his hand. He took it, looked up at her.
"Alright," he said, with no good grace. He swallowed it down, grimacing. "Severus always makes the worst-tasting potions, though. He always did. Mother used to say that he did it on purpose, so that I didn't enjoy being sick. Father would say that Severus just didn't want anyone else to be happier than him." He looked up at Ginny again. "They were both probably right."
"Wonderful," Ginny replied. "Now get some sleep." She stood and left the room, pausing at the doorway to look back at him. The potion was working, and Malfoy waved her away. Ginny shook her head and moved to take her own advice.