Author Notes: I'm nearly done writing this fic, so hopefully the wait between chapters won't be too bad. I thought I'd finish it this past weekend, but I ended up with a horrible migraine, which happens, sometimes, when I try to do too much in too little time. So I had to take a short break. However, I still think I'll be done by the end of the week. Looks like there's going to be about 4 more chapters after this one. Possibly quite long chapters.
There's sort of a lot of plot, in this chapter, and unfortunately not as much D/G interaction as I like, but I promise there's much more of them to come in the following chapters :D
Chapter Seven
Ginny lay awake in her hospital bed in St. Mungo's, staring up at the ceiling overhead. She was on the ground floor, in a ward for broom crashes. It was a large ward; there were eight other people in it at the moment, all of them sleeping soundly. It was very late—past midnight, she thought.
She'd fallen off her broom. She'd fallen off her broom. She had never fallen off her broom before. She thought she knew how Harry felt now, being attacked by Dementors, or having his scar hurt so badly that he fell. Because when the mark on her arm had burned like that, there was no way she could've stayed in the air.
She was lucky that the charm had held, the charm that that masked Death Eater had taught her, the one who had come to the Burrow at night and spoken to her. So when she'd woken up in St. Mungo's, with several broken bones and a concussion, no one was aware of the Mark on her arm, still concealed by the charm she'd cast on it, the charm she had to cast on it every evening.
That no one had seen it was a small comfort, however. Ginny was seething. Lucius Malfoy, Lucius bloody Malfoy. What was he playing at? Was he even in the country? That Death Eater who had come to see her really hadn't given her any information, or indication, about what Lucius Malfoy wanted, or what he was doing. Was it just a not-so-friendly little reminder, his twisted way of reminding her that he had some hold over her? Ginny had not been convinced that he did—not until now. Because she had not had control over this situation, and she could've died, falling from her broom like that.
As it was, her broken bones had been mostly mended, though some were so bad that she'd needed to take some Skele-Gro, and given her concussion, they'd wanted her to stay overnight. But her bones felt mended now, and she wasn't dizzy; she was wide awake, listening to someone else in the ward snoring away. She couldn't sleep, and she was stuck here, in St. Mungo's, totally alone—
Ginny paused. Totally alone.
Not quite.
Taking care to move slowly and quietly, Ginny slid out of her bed. She slipped on her slippers and a robe, and silently shuffled out of her ward.
There was no one in the hall. Everything was quiet. The staircase was just across the corridor. She saw no one as she crossed the hall and started upstairs.
It was a little harder than she'd anticipated; she was still sore, especially her ribs, for which she'd needed the Skele-Gro. But finally, finally, she made it to Spell Damage on the fourth floor, wincing with her last few steps, and struggling to keep her winded breathing quiet.
Once on the fourth floor, however, she realized her mistake—she had completely forgotten that the ward she was in search of, the Janus Thickey Ward, for permanent spell damage, was a closed ward. The doors would be locked, with no one around to let her in, and even if someone was there, she didn't think she was really allowed to be out of bed and up here at this time of night.
But when she glanced across the landing, towards the door that led into the ward, she spotted something odd. The door looked like it was a little ajar—just barely. Ginny limped towards it, leaning on to the wall for support. She reached out to try the door handle and—
Yes. It was open.
Instead of rejoicing in her good luck, Ginny was immediately put on her guard. Why should the door to a closed ward be left open in the middle of the night? That seemed extremely careless, and she was sure the staff at the hospital were not so careless. Wishing she'd brought her wand—it was downstairs, beside her bed on the ground floor—she eased the door open and stepped inside.
There was a small office on the right, where the Healers could usually be seen, but the door was shut and the blinds were closed. It looked like there was a light on inside, however. With some trepidation, Ginny tried this door and found it, too, was unlocked. She pushed the door open.
There was a Healer inside, a woman, but she was slumped over the desk. At first, Ginny thought she was just sleeping, but there was a stillness to her, and her position was so odd, as though she'd just collapsed quite suddenly. With a rush of foreboding, Ginny hurried over to her and felt for a pulse.
She realized, as she found it, that the woman was breathing. Perhaps she was just asleep, but the stillness about her, that she had not woken when Ginny touched her, seemed suspicious. Ginny thought she'd probably been Stunned.
Practically holding her breath, Ginny left the office, and went across into the ward. Inside, curtains were drawn around each bed, and as all was quiet, Ginny could only assume that everyone was asleep.
Except at the end of the ward. Because, at the end of the ward, on the right, there was a light on. Lit behind the curtains that were drawn around Narcissa Malfoy's bed.
Ginny swallowed noiselessly. She didn't have a wand. She'd had a quick look around for the witch's in the office, but hadn't seen one there either. It might've been more prudent to leave, to find someone and let them know that the ward was open, the Healer there had been Stunned, and there was a light on round Narcissa Malfoy's bed.
But Ginny stepped forward, her slippers silent as she walked down the ward. She had nearly reached the end—she was mere steps away—when the curtains were suddenly drawn back and Ginny found herself on the end of someone's wand.
Dread pooling in her gut, Ginny looked up into the face of the man standing before her.
It was Lucius Malfoy.
For a moment, they stared at each other, the both of them frozen still, rooted to the spot. There was absolutely nothing Ginny could do. She had no wand, nowhere to run—well, she could try to run, but she'd be Stunned, if not killed, in an instant.
But as she stood there, the seconds ticked by, and Lucius Malfoy didn't make a move. He only stared at Ginny, an expression torn between contempt and dismay on his face. It occurred to Ginny, then, that he was at his wife's bedside, and that he probably wasn't there for any sinister reason at all.
He was probably there just to visit her.
For some reason—even though he was Lucius Malfoy, even though he was a wanted felon and, the last Ginny had known, not even supposed to be in the country—this realization made her feel a bit embarrassed. As though she were intruding. She thought she flushed a little; she could feel her cheeks growing warm.
But then she reminded herself that he was a Death Eater, one that she quite hated, and that he'd lost any right to come visit his wife. He still hadn't made any attempt to hex her or hurt her, so Ginny chanced it and demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He still didn't hex her, but he didn't lower his wand either, not an inch. "I might ask you the same thing," he said stiffly.
"Yeah, well," Ginny retorted, "the last I heard, you weren't even in the country. Because you are still wanted by the Ministry, or did you forget?"
"And you," Lucius said, his quiet voice shaking with anger, "have absolutely no family in this ward, and therefore no reason to be here."
Ginny could feel her cheeks growing warm again, but she refused to back down. Her eyes flickered, very quickly, over to the woman lying in the bed, Narcissa, looking peaceful as ever; she might have been sleeping. But then Ginny looked back at Lucius, hardening her gaze. "I'm in the hospital for other reasons," she said pointedly.
"Not in thisward, surely?" Lucius Malfoy sneered. "Or am I to believe you got lost?"
For a moment, Ginny didn't answer him. She wondered how much he knew, or suspected. After all, if he was behind the burning of the Mark on her arm—and that masked Death Eater had told her as much—then he should realize that her being in hospital might have something to do with that. Yet it was odd; he seemed completely surprised, and not very happy, to see her—that is to say, he didn't seem like a man who had lately been trying to threaten her and pressure her, even if from a distance.
After staring at him in silence for a minute—tense and still—Ginny said, abruptly, "I wanted to talk to you."
The sneer actually left his face for a moment, as something odd—surprise, she supposed—flickered through his eyes. But then his expression of contempt returned, and he said coldly, "And you knew I would be here? How?"
"No, I didn't know," Ginny said impatiently. "I had no idea. But, now that you are, I want to talk to you." She held up her left arm, forearm facing out. "I want to talk to you about this."
The Mark, of course, wasn't visible; even without the charm she had cast upon it, it wouldn't be visible now, now that it wasn't burning, and so thoroughly covered by the scarring on her arm. Nevertheless, she knew Lucius would know what she was referring to.
He looked at her arm for a moment, his expression quite blank. Then—taking a moment to assess her, probably to be sure she had no wand—he said curtly, "Not here." He pointed over her shoulder with his wand. "In the office."
Ginny was not keen to turn her back on him, but she didn't have much choice, so she went, glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure he was following and not trying to hex her. They left the ward and went into the office, where the Healer was still Stunned, slumped over in her chair.
"Your work, I suppose," Ginny said dryly, as Lucius shut the door behind them.
"She's only Stunned," he said coolly, locking the door with his wand, "and I will cast a Memory Charm on her before I leave."
At the far end of the office, Ginny stopped, crossing her arms over her chest. He still held his wand, but he wasn't pointing it at her anymore, though she was sure he would curse her in an instant if she tried anything.
"So?" he said derisively, facing her. "Get on with it."
Ginny suppressed a surge of anger. "It's really you that should be doing the talking," she said impatiently, "seeing as you've been messing with me for the past four months. What exactly is it that you want? Or are you just trying to scare me? Remind me that you're still around?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed Lucius' face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about this, of course!" Ginny hissed, holding up her arm again. "About the Mark burning! I was on a broomstick when it burned today. That's why I'm here, because I fell off, and broke about half the bones in my body. I could have been killed. But then," she added bitterly, "I suppose you wouldn't really care about that, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't," Lucius said coldly. "But I'm afraid I still don't know what you're talking about. If your Mark has been burning, that's news to me."
Ginny stared at him. He couldn't be serious. Did he actually expect her to believe that? "Oh, right," she said, not bothering to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "No, of course not. Why would you have anything to do with it?"
"Listen to me, you stupid girl," Lucius said, and his voice was still quite calm, though there was a hint of impatience there. "I had that Mark put on you with the intention of using you to control someone. Someone who is no longer in my reach. So there is absolutely no reason for me to have been using it against you. As amusing as it is that you fell off your broom, I have more important things to tend to."
"Control someone?" Ginny repeated. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Who?"
Lucius eyed her for a moment. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as though to make sure no one was coming, though the blinds were still pulled shut, and he didn't make any attempt to look through them.
"A prisoner," he said coolly, finally answering her. "Someone who cared for you, Merlin knows why. We'd been having trouble with him. But as he escaped nearly six months ago, I have absolutely no use for you. In fact, ever since I left the Riddle House and left the country, I've had no use for you."
Momentarily disregarding the identity of this prisoner, Ginny demanded, "Then who's been doing this?" She waved her arm. "Who else knows about it that could've been doing this? And anyway—" She didn't give him a chance to answer, for she had suddenly remembered why she had thought it was him "—someone told me it was you, one of your people! A Death Eater came to my house—well, to the Burrow, I mean—last February, and he said you were behind it. That you wanted to use this Mark to get to me."
Lucius looked at her, his grey eyes narrowed. Oddly, he wasn't so much glaring at her as looking thoughtful, or suspicious. "A Death Eater came to your home last February?" he repeated slowly, as though thinking this through.
Ginny nodded.
"Who?"
Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. He was masked. And trying to disguise his voice, by the sound of it."
Lucius' eyes narrowed even further, only now, the hint of a smirk touched the corner of his mouth. He seemed grimly amused by something. "So someone—you don't know who—came to you—in February—and said that Iwas behind your Mark burning? What else did he say?"
Ginny frowned. She didn't like this. Lucius seemed like he knew something, but he wasn't telling, not yet. Nevertheless, she reluctantly answered him. "He said…he told me how to hide the Mark. A charm I could use. And he asked me why I hadn't told—" She broke off, biting her tongue.
Lucius Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Hadn't told…what? To whom?"
Ginny looked at him, wrestling with herself. There was a certain subject—or a certain person, really—that neither of them had touched on yet, had even mentioned. Ginny hadn't realized until now that she would have preferred to keep it that way. But she went on and said, "He asked why I hadn't told Draco about the Mark."
Lucius' cold eyes flashed at the mention of his son. He likely didn't like the reminder that Ginny and Draco were involved. It occurred to her that it was possible he didn't know they were married. Well, she wasn't going to be the one to tell him.
"And why haven't you told Draco?" Lucius asked coolly.
"None of your business," Ginny said forcefully. "Which is what I told that Death Eater who came to my house. Who wasthat Death Eater, anyway? Only, you obviously know something—"
"I suspect," Lucius interrupted, "that it was someone you know quite well. Only, he left us, you see. Not long before he came to see you."
"Who?" Ginny demanded.
"Blaise Zabini," Lucius said, his tone indifferent.
A cold shock ran through Ginny. Before she could really think it through—before she could even consider it—she heard herself say, "Blaise isn't a Death Eater."
Lucius' eyebrow hitched. He looked at her quite intently, as though studying her, or waiting for some other reaction. When she didn't give him any, he said, with clear surprise, "You already knew that he's alive."
Ginny opened her mouth to respond to this, and then shut it. She couldn't say anything except confirm it, and for some reason, she was unwilling to say anything about Blaise, to Lucius Malfoy.
"You've seen him," Lucius went on. It wasn't a question, but he seemed to take her silence for assent. "You've spoken to him." He paused. "Besides the time he came to your house masked, that is."
"That wasn't him!" Ginny argued, refusing to accept this. "I'd have known! And he's not a Death Eater, so that makes no sense!"
"He's not a willing Death Eater," Lucius said dismissively. "Or at least, he wasn't at first. But he has the Mark, and he was agreeable about taking it, unlike you."
"You're lying." Hot anger coursed through Ginny like liquid fire. This couldn't be true, any of it. He was trying to get to her.
"Blaise Zabini," Lucius said, ignoring her accusation, "became a Death Eater nearly a year ago. Before that, he was our prisoner. He was, in fact, the prisoner we wanted to control, using you."
"You—what?" Ginny blinked. "It was Blaise?" But this, unfortunately, only fit too well into what she already knew. That they'd had Blaise, at the Riddle House, and that they'd wanted information from him, information he didn't have. Perhaps they thought they could control her, threaten her, to get Blaise to give them this information.
"Yes," Lucius said. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the locked door. The tense watchfulness had left him; he now looked quite comfortable, complacent, even. No doubt he enjoyed toying with her. "But he eventually relented, you know. He joined our ranks—"
"I don't believe that!"
"If you're in contact with him, you can ask him yourself." Lucius shrugged indifferently. "You have spoken with him, haven't you? And—" His eyes suddenly alighted. "And, I'm sure you haven't told Draco, have you? Only, you do seem fond of keeping secrets from him."
Ginny bit back a retort, refusing to rise to his bait, refusing to respond to the jibe about Draco. She would not even give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that he had mentioned Draco.
"In any case," Lucius said, moving past the subject of Draco, "the answer to your initial question should be obvious now. Blaise Zabini is obviously the one who has been using your Mark to…contact you."
Ginny found herself nearly shaking with suppressed fury. "That's ridiculous. Why in Merlin's name would he do that?"
"Why do you think?" Lucius Malfoy snapped. "Do you think he's happy to know that you married my son? Living your life with him and my grandson, while he's been held captive?"
He wasn't, Ginny knew that he wasn't. He had said so. But that he would use her Mark to…contact…her, to speak to her, for no other reason, really, than to interrupt her life with Draco and Will…that was beyond mere jealousy or regret; that was twisted, that was obsessive. That was malicious; whoever had been doing this to her was doing it for no other reason than to upset her, to hurt her, even. She couldn't believe that of Blaise. She couldn't.
But she couldn't help it, now, thinking back to that night at the Burrow, when that Death Eater had lured her out and talked to her…there had moments, in that conversation, when that person had seemed familiar, when she thought she'd recognized the voice. Had that been Blaise's voice? Was it possible? It was too long ago now, and Ginny couldn't hear the voice in her memory anymore, not particularly. But he hadseemed to know her…he had seemed to know her quite well, even…
She shook her head. It couldn't be true. It was ridiculous. She looked up at Lucius and found him smirking at her.
"I don't believe it," she said quietly.
"Believe it or not," he said, straightening. "It doesn't matter to me. But Ihaven't had anything to do with your Mark burning. I couldn't care less about you, girl, not even enough to stoop to spending my time coming up with ways to annoy you," he said, his tone sardonic. "Now if you don't mind—" He raised his wand, and Ginny flinched, half-thinking he was going to hex her "—I need to wake this Healer and erase her memory. It's past time I was gone."
"Are you going to erase my memory, too?" Ginny asked boldly, looking him full in the face.
Lucius sneered. "No. No, I think I should like you to remember what I've told you about your precious Blaise Zabini tonight. You may say you don't believe it, but you'll consider it. You'll consider it, and think about it, until you do believe it."
Ginny stared back at him defiantly.
"Nevertheless—" His wand shifted slightly, and now it was pointed at Ginny. She tried not to flinch again, though a chill of alarm ran through her. "What am I to do with you? What's to keep you from running to tell the Aurors that I am back in England?"
"I won't tell them," Ginny said bitterly. It rankled her, but she knew she wouldn't. She knew what she had to do.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I'll tell Draco," she said calmly. She had decided this already, hadn't she, when she'd thought Draco was keeping his father hidden at the manor. As much as she hated Lucius Malfoy, she had too much understanding, now, about Draco and his father. "I'll tell him, and let him decide what to do with the information. And if you don't want me telling Draco, well, then, you'll have to kill me or kidnap me, because I won't keep that from him."
"Yes," Lucius said with contempt, "I suppose yet another secret wouldn't be a good idea, would it?"
Ginny bit her tongue. "So," she said, "are you going to let me go or not?"
Lucius looked at her for a moment. His expression was one of great dislike, and she knew he didn't like it, to let her go. Not only because he hated her as much as she hated him, but because he surely didn't quite trust that she wouldn't tell the Aurors he'd been here.
But he had said it. He had mentioned her being married to Draco, so he knew. She supposed, now, that he couldn't deny that she meant something to Draco, that she was a part of his life. And she believed that he wouldn't want to hurt his son if he didn't have. If he didn't really have to.
And so there he was, lowering his wand briefly, unlocking the door. He yanked it open, peered out into the corridor, and then jerked his head. "Go," he said shortly.
Keeping her eyes on him all the way, she stalked out of the office.
Ginny was released from the hospital the next morning, but she didn't yet have a chance to tell Draco about his father. Tracey accompanied her home from St. Mungo's, as Draco had needed to go into work early.
Ginny spent the day at home alone. Even Will wasn't there; Draco had dropped him off with Fleur in the morning. After a quick Floo call with Fleur, it was decided that Will would stay there until Draco could pick him up after work; her sister-in-law insisted that Ginny needed her rest.
Will, however, would have proved a welcome distraction for Ginny, a distraction from her own thoughts. Over and over again, she played through her conversation with Lucius in her head, trying to find the flaws, some hole in his explanation that would prove it made absolutely no sense. In the end, it didn't make sense, because she knew Blaise. And he wouldn't have done this. He wouldn't have become a Death Eater—he'd proved over and over again that he wanted to remain neutral, that that was in his best interests—and he certainly wouldn't have hurt Ginny, he couldn't have. She knew him.
Except that, an insidious little voice continued to creep into her mind, interrupting her arguments with herself. Do you really know him? What do you know, really? She had only dated him for a little while, not even six months, and that was eight years ago. Hadn't she realized, when she'd discovered Blaise was alive, that so much of what she'd felt for him, all along, had been her own guilt? That it had been herself, building up their relationship in her head, making it into something deeper, something more than it really was?
Yet if that were true…why would Blaise go through all the trouble of trying to get to her like this, why would he do that if their relationship had been nothing, meant nothing? Lucius claimed Blaise would do it because of his own rage, his own jealousy, over her life with Draco. And Blaise had admitted that he felt that way…but strongly enough to do this to her?
All these thoughts played through her head until she didn't know whatto think anymore. None of it made sense, no, it did make sense, no, there was no way…. Frustrated, Ginny found herself pacing in the townhouse sitting room in the early evening, waiting for Draco to come home with Will.
Early evening turned to late evening, and still, Draco didn't come home. Finally, when it was nearly eight o'clock, just when Ginny was beginning to get worried, Fleur Flooed and said that Draco had contacted her to let her know that he was going to be quite late from work. Fleur insisted that Will stay with them for the night, that that would be easier for everyone, and although Ginny was going stir-crazy, alone in the house, she had to agree on this.
She also agreed because an idea was forming in her mind. The more she thought about it, the more she managed to convince herself that she should just go and see Blaise, and ask him about all this. It probably wasn't true anyway—just Lucius spinning lies—and then she could stop making herself crazy.
But her doubts plagued her all the way through the tunnel into the manor.
Blaise was flipping through an edition of the Quibbler when she turned up in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor. He gave quite a start when she came in from the pantry, all but dropping the magazine in some haste. Ginny eyed him suspiciously.
"Where did you get that magazine, anyway? I thought you weren't leaving here," she said.
He frowned, looking puzzled. "You brought that for me last time," he said. "Remember?"
"Oh." Ginny did not, precisely, remember, but she had brought a stack of papers for him to read last time; perhaps the Quibbler had gotten stuck up in there. As it was, she hardly spared a thought for the magazine. She had other things on her mind.
"So." Blaise was sitting perched on one of the stools. He leaned back, balancing the stool on the two back legs. "Doesn't look like you brought me anything this time, Weasley. What—" He broke off, sending her a sharp look. "What's with you?" he said bluntly.
"Wh-what?" Ginny stuttered.
Blaise raised a cool eyebrow. "You're staring," he said. "At me." He frowned. "You've got a funny look on your face."
Ginny opened her mouth, but whatever words that were coming got stuck. She felt as though someone had stuffed something thick and sticky down her throat, stopping up her airway. Breathing in deeply, she shut her mouth for the moment. Blaise blinked back at her expectantly.
"Well?" he prompted.
His casual, even arrogant, tone of voice broke it out of her. "It was you, wasn't it?" Her voice came out hoarse, but she could hear the sense of betrayal throbbing in it. "You came to my house that night, to the Burrow. You showed me—" She held up her left arm "—how to hide this."
She hadn't meant to say it so baldly. She hadn't meant to say it with such conviction, as though she actually believed it, as though she knew it were true. Because she didn't believe it…did she?
The front legs of Blaise's stool came clattering back to the ground. He stared at her flatly, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes, like panic. "What are you talking about?" he asked warily.
She didn't like his reaction. It was subtle, but it was there. "It was you. You came to the Burrow that night. And you, you—" She swallowed. "You've been…using my Mark. Making it burn. That first night, and then a few days later, at the Burrow…and then—" She let out a breathy sound of disbelief, like a laugh that was not really a laugh. "And then yesterday—"
"Merlin, Weasley, what are you talking about?" Blaise demanded. A scowl had come over his face, but he had gone utterly still, like a deer that had been caught in the sights of a predator. He thought she hadn't noticed, but suddenly she could see it, all over him. A sense of guilt and alarm, that she'd figured it out, that he'd been caught.
"I almost died, did you know that?" she went on. She was almost shouting now, and she didn't know where she got the energy, because she still felt bowled over with the shock of it all. "I was on a bloody broomstick, Blaise, in the air, and I fell and broke half the bloody bones in my body, I hit my head—I could've been dead."
She paused, almost waiting for another denial from him. But it didn't come. He was staring at her soundlessly now, and his face had gone ashen. As if she needed any more confirmation that it was true, all true.
"I can't believe it," Ginny muttered. She took several, unsteady steps back from him and then collapsed onto a few crates packed on the floor, her legs going out like jelly. She shook her head. "I can't—how—" She felt nauseated.
"Ginny—" Blaise started to say.
"Don't!" she snapped, glaring up at him. "I can't—what else is true? What else of what he told me is true? Are you a Death Eater?"
"What?" Blaise pulled a face. "Don't be stupid. Why would I become a Death Eater?"
She had wondered that herself, but it made sense now. "They were holding you captive," she reasoned, almost speaking more to herself than to him. "And you've always been about trying to keep yourself alive, Blaise. If they wanted you to—if they asked you—you would've done it. I'm sure you would've done it. Wouldn't you?"
Blaise was glaring back at her now. "Who told you all this?" he spat. "It can't have been Draco. He doesn't know all this. Who?"
Ginny opened her mouth to respond, the hot retort that she'd spoken to Lucius Malfoy on her tongue, but the words didn't reach her lips before she realized what he'd said. "Wait…Draco?" She stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, Draco doesn't know all this? Draco doesn't even know that you're alive."
"Oh, really?" Blaise bit back at her. "Shows what you know."
Fury welled up within Ginny like a fire erupting. "Don't be stupid," she growled. "And don't try to turn this around on me, or on Draco! You've been lying, you've been trying to—to use me, I don't think I even want to know why, and now you're trying to turn this on Draco—"
"Merlin, Weasley!" Blaise erupted. He leapt to his feet so fast that Ginny thought he was going to hex her, or attack her, so she started to her feet as well. "You're bloody blind! How do you think I got in here? Who do you think showed me the tunnel, let me in? Did you really believe I overheard Lucius Malfoy talking about it? How unlikely is that? Who would he have been talking to about it, you stupid bint!"
Ginny stared at him. She was torn between alarm at how suddenly angry he was, and dismay at what he was saying. It couldn't be true…Draco couldn't have known Blaise was alive, let him in here, and never said anything…could he?
"Draco has known that I was alive for more than a year," Blaise seethed. He started pacing, back and forth, like a dangerous animal that had been cooped up too long. His dark, haunted eyes were alight with rage. "Ever since you two came to the Riddle House, for your bloody son. His father brought him to me, showed him I was alive. We didn't really have time for a nice chat, of course, because the Aurors got in, and Lucius had to flee."
Ginny stared at him, her mouth going dry. This had to be a lie…but he sounded so certain, and he had such details…making this up off the top of his head would have been awfully hard…
"There was a moment." Blaise stopped pacing abruptly, but he was breathing hard, as though he'd just run a marathon. "A moment when Draco and I were alone. And I asked him to help me." His hands clenched together in identical fists. "But before he could say anything, Lucius came back, and he took me and we left." Blaise shook his head.
Ginny felt bile rising in her throat, as she heard these words. And she remembered now, what Draco had told her, his exact words—when he'd told her he was keeping something from her, something he had found out in the Riddle House…he had told her…
"…at the Riddle House, I found out—my father told me—something…. I'm not hurting anyone by keeping this secret, okay? No harm will come to Will, or to—or to you. I swear that, Gin."
"No," Ginny whispered. "He would've told me. He would've—"
"Of course he wouldn't!" Blaise spat, whirling around to face her. "He's so bloody in love with you, he wouldn't risk losing you by telling you that I was still alive! You should've seen him, that night I turned up at your flat! He was scared out of his bloody wits, thinking I'd wake you, thinking you might see me! He couldn't get me out of there fast enough!"
Ginny shut her eyes. She pressed her hands over her mouth, thinking she might vomit again.
"So I left, and a couple of nights later, he brought me here. Told me not to leave, told me I couldn't do any magic." For a moment, Blaise seemed to hesitate, and Ginny opened her eyes, and looked at him. But then his gaze hardened, and all he said was, "I haven't seen him since."
Ginny felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of her. "It can't be true," she said numbly, but she no longer really believed that herself. "He—how could he not tell me?"
Draco had said that the secret he was keeping wouldn't hurt her. He'd promised that. But he'd been wrong. Because Ginny felt as though he'd slid a knife in her, right through her ribcage, cold and sharp.
"I don't know why you're so surprised," Blaise said, his voice full of rancor. "He's a Malfoy. He's Death Eater scum, just like the rest of his family—"
"He isn't a Death Eater." Of all the things Blaise could have said, to pull her out of this shock, to bring her back around to Draco, this was it. She felt herself straighten, she felt the cold fear and the stinging pain leave her, and she looked Blaise right in the eye. "He isn't a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater. You might've become one—you just as well admitted it—but Draco, he's—"
"He's what?" Blaise snapped. "Are you going to tell me he's changed, Weasley? That he's good now, good and noble and self-sacrificing like you and the rest of your barmy friends and family? Well, you're wrong." Blaise snorted. "You're dead wrong. Anything Malfoy has done, he's done for himself. You said it yourself, Ginny," Blaise said, his eyes gleaming with spite. "That I did what I did to keep myself alive. Well, anything Malfoy has done—bringing you in to his family, helping the Order, even getting in all chummy with your family—all of that, it's all just been to help himself. To stay alive, and to keep his happy, comfortable little life. Don't kid yourself into thinking otherwise."
"You have no idea," Ginny said, her voice shaking. "You don't know what you're talking about—"
"If he'd been in my position," Blaise cut in, "he would've done the exact same thing. If he'd been offered the choice of death or rejoining the Death Eaters, he'd have done it in a heartbeat, and you be damned." His eyes narrowed. "And if you don't believe me, go home and askhim, why don't you."
Draco sighed, glancing up at the clock on the wall in his office. It was past seven o'clock, and he still wasn't quite done yet. He was thinking he should probably Floo Fleur and let her know that he was going to be a bit late.
Just then, a memo zoomed in his open office door, and landed on his desk, in front of him. Wearily, Draco picked it up and opened it. His tired eyes passed over the words once, quickly. Then, when he'd realized what he'd just read, he sat up straight, suddenly alert, and read the note again.
Draco,
Meet me in the usual place. Now. This concerns your son.
L. M.
Draco stared at the letter. He'd only just finished reading it the second time through when it suddenly caught alight at the corner. With a strangled yelp, Draco dropped the memo, as it caught fire and then quickly burnt to black ash, left in a pile on his desk.
For a moment, Draco was frozen. His father. He knew it was his father. And he wanted to meet with him? About…Will? It was that last bit that resolved him, that got him moving right away. He was still stunned, that his father was here, in the country, in London, but if this was about Will, then he didn't have time to think it over.
He paused only to Floo Bill and Fleur, and let them know that he wouldn't be by until late. Fleur assured him it was no problem, and suggested that Will just spend the night at Shell Cottage, that Ginny could come pick him up in the morning. Draco agreed, and said goodbye to her.
He Apparated straight out of his office and into a tiny, dark little alleyway in Knockturn Alley.
Draco looked around nervously. There was no one in sight. His father had said "the usual place," which, Draco was very sure, was this alley. He was just beginning to think he'd got it wrong when a movement on his right caught his eye. He glanced aside sharply, just as his father came into view, his wand raised over his head as he removed a Disillusionment Charm.
Draco swallowed, looking at him. He glanced around nervously; he'd thought his father would probably come in some Polyjuiced form to be safe, but here he was, in his own skin, looking just as Draco had remembered him, though perhaps a little paler and thinner.
"Hello, Draco," Lucius drawled.
"What are you doing here, Dad?" Draco asked, resolving that his voice would not waver. He hardened his expression. It wasn't that he bore his father any ill will, not really, but Lucius had said this was about Will, and Draco and his father had never agreed when it came to Will. "Back in the country?"
"I'm here for you," Lucius said, his own gaze hard. "As I said in the note, I'm here about your son."
Draco pushed down the fear that leapt in his gut and said evenly, "What about him?"
"Lillian Moon is going to file for full custody of him," Lucius said.
Draco stared. He felt as though his father had punched him in the stomach. Of all the things he'd expected his father to say—that he wanted to take Will away, that Death Eaters were planning to come after him—he had not expected that. "Lillian—Lillian Moon?" Draco shook his head. "I—what—how can you—"
"I still have a friend or two in the Ministry, Draco," Lucius said grimly. "I hear things. In fact, I've made it my business to hear anything that concerns you or your son. You'll probably get notice tomorrow. She wants to take him away from you."
As the shock began to fade, cold, incredulous anger swept through Draco, running through his veins like ice. "That's ridiculous," he said shortly. "She can file for custody all she wants. She can't have him." He thought back to the party, on her insistence to see Will. For a brief, horrible moment, Draco wondered—just wondered—that if he'd let her see him, then maybe this wouldn't be happening.
No. She'd probably already been planning this. And coming to the party had just been her way of threatening him.
"I don't think you should dismiss this, Draco," Lucius said warningly. He glanced down the alley, but there was no one near, no one to hear or see them.
"She doesn't have a case," Draco said impatiently. "She'd need a pretty good reason to take a son from his father, even if she is his biological grandmother."
"And the fact that your son has already been kidnapped once? You don't think that gives her a case?" Lucius shook his head. "Will has been put in danger more than once because of you, Draco. Because someone was trying to get at you. It began in the hospital in France, just after he'd been born, and has continued to this day. You had to move out of your flat not two months ago because Death Eaters came after you."
"Lillian Moon may as well be a Death Eater!" Draco burst out. "And you think she's the better choice?" When he said you, he wasn't really referring to his father directly, but Lucius took him by surprise when he answered.
"Yes." Lucius sent him a very level look. "Yes, I do."
Draco took a step back. "You—what? You can't possibly—don't you know what that woman is?"
"Do you?" Lucius retorted. "Draco, what do you really know about Lillian Moon?"
"That she's a bloody sympathizer of the Dark Lord, for one thing!"
"I don't think she is." Lucius shook his head. "Oh, she may have been, at one time—when she was younger, perhaps. But having children can make you think twice about having someone like the Dark Lord in power, and to actually losethat child…I think you'd find she's changed, quite a bit, since she lost her daughter."
"And you know this how?" Draco snapped.
"As I said," Lucius said smoothly, "I have made it my business to stay informed on anything, any person, concerning you. That included Lillian Moon. She is Carina's mother, after all. I'm rather surprised, Draco, that you've been so lax as to ignore her all this time."
"She hasn't wanted anything to do with Will!" Draco snarled. "If she's so keen to have him, if she really cares about him, then why did she tell me she blamed him for Carina's death! Why did she tell Ginny that he was nothing more than the bastard son of a Malfoy!"
Lucius lifted a shoulder in a graceful shrug. "I would not be surprised if she felt that way, so soon after her daughter had died. She would have been grieving. But I also believe that, with time, she has come to see that it is not, of course, your son's fault that her daughter is dead."
"She saw Ginny only a few months ago," Draco retorted. "She was with Will, and Lillian said to her face—"
"Perhaps seeing Will is what made her realize she had changed her mind," Lucius pointed out.
"I—you—this is mad!" Draco exclaimed. "You can't be serious, Dad! You can't really be trying to convince me of this! What about me? Oh, right, I forgot—" Draco let out a short, harsh laugh. "You don't think I'm much of a father, do you? You've been in favor of Will being raised elsewhere since he was born—"
"Yes, I have, Draco," Lucius said sharply. "I have. And I wish you could see it. I wish you could see what I couldn't see, when you were a child, when the Dark Lord returned."
Draco stared at him. "What do you mean? See what you couldn't see?"
Lucius reached out and gripped Draco's shoulder. "I wish," he said quietly, looking into Draco's eyes, "that I had realized, when the Dark Lord returned, that I should have done everything in my power to keep you safe from him. That I should have sent you away—"
"No, Dad, you can't mean that—"
"—that I should have, even, shown absolutely no regard for you," Lucius said firmly. "Because if the Dark Lord had thought that I didn't care for you, he wouldn't have used you against me as punishment. He wouldn't have given you the task of killing Dumbledore, when you were still just a boy."
"I was sixteen—"
"And still a boy." Lucius withdrew his hand from Draco's shoulder and looked away. "And still my son. And I should have protected you from that. From all of that."
Draco felt sick. He couldn't imagine—he didn't want—
"And so," Lucius said, "I wish that you could see that. I wish that you could understand that. Not only the benefits of letting the boy go, not only how much safer he could be, elsewhere—"
"He's perfectly safe with me," Draco whispered. "Now that we've got the townhouse—we have all sorts of protective charms and jinxes. Anti-Intruder Jinxes, and Disillusionment Charms, and Anti-Apparition wards and alarms—"
"You had all that at the manor, and he still wasn't safe enough."
"I would die for him," Draco said. His voice was still pitched low, but it burned with intensity. His words rang with emotion. "I would die for him, and so would Ginny—"
"Yes," Lucius said, his mouth twisting bitterly, "and you'll both do him so much good, once you're dead."
Draco shook his head. "You can't be serious."
"And it's not only a question of how safe is he, how protected," Lucius went on, "but don't you see, Draco, can't you understand? If you let Lillian Moon take the boy—if you let him go, without a fight, if you made it clear, in public, that it meant nothing to you—"
"How could I make that clear?" Draco protested. His voice was shaking. "How could I ever pretend that I don't care about my own son? What good would that do, who would believe it?"
"If you could do that—" Once again, Lucius met his gaze, his grey eyes steely "—then you could save him, Draco. You could protect him. Because the Death Eaters, and anyone else, would have no reason to come after him, if they thought he meant nothing to you."
Draco stared at him. A lump was forming in his throat, and a horrible, weighty feeling pressed in upon him, from all sides. He was trembling from head to toe, even though it wasn't the slightest bit cool outside. "It's mad," he said, the words choking through him. "You're mad. I can't give up my son. I can't."
Lucius looked away. He glanced down the alley, his eyes distant. "I don't know if I could have done, either," he said quietly. "But I wish I had."
His father left him not long after that. Leaving Draco alone, in the dark little alley. Draco felt cold, and tired. He wanted, very desperately, to see Will. But it was late; Will was at Shell Cottage for the night, and Draco didn't want to turn up out of the blue and wake him up. So he Apparated home, instead, alone.
Ginny wasn't there when he got home. He found this very odd, and a small part of him felt a tiny bit anxious, because she'd come home from hospital this morning, and she should have just been here, resting. But he was too distracted to really worry about it, too caught up in his own thoughts.
He moved through the house alone, not bothering to light any lamps that weren't already lit. He drifted into his study, where he stopped to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey. He downed the glass in one go, and then poured himself another one, before wandering out of his study and into the small library. It was dark in there, only one small, dim lamp lit on the other side of the room. There was a small window at the back of the room, too, but it was fully dark out now, so no light shone through.
Draco sat heavily in the armchair in the corner, nursing his glass of Firewhiskey. He could not even bring himself to consider what his father had suggested. He couldn't actually consider willingly giving up his son.
He had kept Will safe until now; he could continue to keep him safe. So many of the Death Eaters were back in Azkaban now, and with the Dark Lord nowhere to be found, their general activity would die down in time. More of them would be caught or killed; the rest would slip out of the country for good, or find their way back into respectable society. They'd leave him alone, eventually. And until then, he and Ginny were perfectly capable of keeping Will safe.
Of course, none of that would stop Lillian Moon from filing for custody. It sounded as though she already had. And as convinced as he was that he could keep Will safe, Ministry officials might not be as sure as he was. His father was right on that count; it would be easy for Lillian to show what danger Will had been put in already.
They would just have to fight her. Draco nodded to himself, taking another gulp of his drink. Prove that Lillian was a worse alternative, and prove that Will could be safe with them. That's all there was to it. Draco was resolved on that. Case closed.
Yet as he sat there, in the near-darkness, his father's words continued to haunt him…his admission, that he should have given Draco up…and fear, fear of what losing Will could to him….
He sat there for close to an hour. Totally alone, except for when Tasher came in hesitantly and asked if he could get anything for him. Draco dismissed him absently, and remained there, until—
"Draco?"
Draco gave a start and looked around, to the open door behind him, which led into the study. Ginny stood there. She looked completely fine, unlike the mess she had been when he'd left her at St. Mungo's last night. He felt a rush of relief at the sight of her, and he realized, all day, he'd been on edge, worried about her. He covered this by asking irritably, "Where have you been?"
Her expression sharpened. "Where have you been?" she snapped.
"I was at work," Draco said crossly. He lifted his glass to his lips and realized there was barely anything left to drink. Putting it aside, he turned his back on her, facing forward in his chair. "Didn't Fleur Floo you?"
"Yes." Slowly, she came around in front of him. She stood facing him for a moment, her arms folded across her chest. He registered, vaguely, that she looked angry; her eyes were dark and narrowed as she looked at him, her whole body tense. "Draco, I know—"
"I wasn't," he said suddenly. He wanted to curse himself. Even now, after all this time, it was his instinct to keep secrets from her. He shouldn't do that anymore, not when he didn't have to. "I wasn't at work, I mean. Not all this time."
Her eyes narrowed even further. "Where were you?" she demanded.
"My father came to see me," he said numbly. The shock, of seeing his father, of hearing that Will could be taken from him, was still sitting inside him, just pushed aside by the whiskey. He felt unstable, vulnerable, like he could blow apart at any second.
Ginny drew in a breath sharply. "He came to—" She broke off. Draco waited for her to burst out angrily at him, but instead, she said, abruptly, "I saw him, too."
"What?" Draco jerked his head up to look at her. "How? When?"
"Last night, at the hospital," she said. "I—"
"He came to see you?" Draco demanded. "At the hospital?"
Ginny shook her head. "No, no, I…ran into him." She sounded faintly apologetic. "I had gotten up for a walk, in the corridors, and I…well, like I said, I ran into him. Basically."
"But what was he doing there, then?"
"I—" Ginny bit her lip. "Draco, I think he was—going to visit—"
"My mum," Draco finished, the realization hitting him like a hammer. "Of course," he said dully. Something twisted inside of him, something painful.
Ginny sighed. "I was going to tell you, as soon as I saw you. I told him I was going to tell you—"
"No need," Draco said bitterly. "He saw to that." He swallowed, suddenly afraid to look at Ginny. "He said—he heard something. That—Lillian Moon. She's filing for full custody of Will."
"What?" Draco looked up at Ginny, now, and she seemed to deflate in shock. If she had been angry before, that was gone now. The only thing in her eyes was concern. "She's what? She can't be serious!"
"That's probably why she came, to the party," Draco said wryly. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I think she was already planning to do it, even then. She wanted to see how we'd react, to her showing up."
"That cow," Ginny swore. "That miserable old cow."
"Yeah, well." Draco picked up his glass again, without thinking, then realized it was empty. He peered inside it, his mouth twisting in a grimace. "She can try to get him all she likes. She's not taking him from us."
"Of course she won't," Ginny said. Her voice was soft, but fierce. Something about it broke through Draco. A horrible, swooping fear went through him, and everything he hadn't allowed himself to consider, to feel, burst out.
"But what if she does?" he whispered. He stared at the space between him and Ginny, at the floor. "We haven't—she has a case. Will's been targeted by Death Eaters more than once, everyone knows he was kidnapped because of me. And she may be a miserable old bat, but there's nothing public, nothing on record—"
"Draco—"
"She has a case, Ginny," he said quietly. He felt miserable, afraid; the thought of losing Will made him want to crawl into a small, dark space, to escape from it, because he couldn't face it, couldn't face the possibility of losing him. "What if she does it?"
Ginny didn't say anything. Swallowing, he looked up at her. He saw his same fear reflected in her face, her eyes haunted at the thought of losing Will. She was afraid, too, and she didn't try to hide it from him. Draco felt a rush of affection for her.
Putting his glass aside, he stood from the chair, a little unsteady on his feet. He stepped in close to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. For a moment, she was stiff, but before he had time to wonder what was wrong, she relaxed, all the tension going out of her. Her arms went around his middle, and she rested her head on his chest. The sweet smell of her hair, the warmth of her body, was more of a comfort to him than she could ever know.
"You never said," he said quietly. "Where were you?"
One of her hands clenched at his back, her fingertips digging into him for a moment. Then she said, "I just went to Fred and George's flat for a late dinner. I…was alone all day. I just wanted company."
His arms tightened around her, sucking her in as close to him as she could get. Ginny, his only refuge, his only tie to the world. Her, he could not lose.
Ginny woke up very, very early the next morning, before the sun had properly risen. She lay awake next to Draco, who was breathing deeply, his face turned towards her. She looked at him for a moment before rolling on to her side, turning her back on him.
She had come home last night, after talking to Blaise, determined to confront Draco, to ask if he'd really known that Blaise was alive, if he'd helped him. But she'd found him sitting there in the dark, alone and upset, and when she heard what Lillian Moon was trying to do, all the anger, all thoughts of Blaise at all, had rushed out of her.
Her thoughts were consumed with Will, with figuring out a way to keep him. Draco, she could not think about. She was still angry at him, but she was willing to bury that, determined, actually, to bury that. Because if they were going to fight for Will, that had to be her focus. And she and Draco needed to be together on that.
She heard Draco stir, and begin to get up. Ginny shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep, as he rose from the bed and went out into the bathroom.
If she was honest with herself, this news about Will left her feeling a little guilty for being angry at Draco at all. A part of her felt she deserved to be angry; he had lied to her about something huge, someone she cared about. But then, a little voice inside her head said, you didn't tell him about Blaise either. You didn't tell him you knew Blaise was alive. You kept sneaking off to see him. Without telling Draco.
There it was. That was why she felt guilty. In the wake of the horrible possibility that they could lose Will, sneaking off to see Blaise seemed awful and insignificant, it seemed selfish and stupid. She had a family here, one she'd worked hard for, one she loved, and she'd risked it all, by keeping Blaise a secret. The fact that Draco had kept him a secret first seemed unimportant, compared to that.
When Draco came back into the room, she opened her eyes, and looked at him, just as he glanced down at her. "Morning," she said quietly, her voice sleepy, even though she'd been awake for some time.
"Morning." He crossed the room to his wardrobe.
Ginny rolled over onto her back, and watched him as he pulled out his clothes. "I'm going to pick up Will from Shell Cottage," she said. "First thing."
And she did. She left the townhouse shortly after Draco left for work, and Apparated straight to Shell Cottage. She didn't say anything to Fleur about Lillian's filing for custody, and if Ginny seemed a little overenthusiastic, a little overemotional, in greeting Will, well, she hadn't seen him since she'd been to the hospital after her fall from the broom.
They had barely arrived home, back at the townhouse, when the doorbell rang. Ginny left Will in Nuly's care, up in the parlor, and went down to answer the door herself. After some argument, she and Draco had elected not to cast Muggle-Repelling charms on the townhouse, so it was conceivable that a Muggle could come to the door. Therefore, the house-elves never answered the door, though they did sometimes come to let Ginny know who was there, if they were closer.
Ginny glanced out through the door's peephole before answering. When she saw who it was, she swallowed a curse and took a moment to regain control of herself before opening the door.
Lillian Moon stood there, three steps below the small porch.
Ginny stepped outside and quickly shut the door behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, without greeting, "What do you want?"
Lillian Moon did not bother to greet her either. "By now, assuming your husband has gone to work, he will have received notice that I am filing for custody of my grandson."
Ginny supposed that Lillian had intended to shock her with this statement, but Ginny, of course, was not surprised. She didn't allow herself any reaction at all. Instead, she merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for Lillian to continue.
A flicker of annoyance went through Lillian's cold eyes. "You don't seem surprised."
"No, merely unconcerned," Ginny said coolly. "Was there something else?"
"Yes." Shifting her handbag over her wrist, Lillian came up another step. "I have come to warn you, Miss Weasley, not to interfere."
"Not to interfere?" Ginny laughed derisively. "First of all, I have married Draco, as you well know, which makes me a Malfoy. Which means, secondly, that this is my affair as much as his. Legally, Will is my stepson."
"And both legally and biologically, he is my grandson," Lillian Moon said dismissively. "Which is a higher claim than any you can make on him, Miss Weasley. I am sorry—" And she smiled, displaying her white, even teeth "—but I am afraid you will never be anything more than a Weasley to me."
Ginny grit her teeth, but didn't rise to the intended insult. Lillian's meaning was plain: She did not recognize any tie, legal or not, that Ginny had to Will. "If you expect me not to help Draco fight this—"
"Oh, no, that isn't what I meant at all," Lillian said lightly. "What I meant was—let's see, how shall I put this? If you intend to—what is the phrase they use?—fight dirty—then be prepared, for I will too."
Ginny studied her for a moment, trying to decipher this. Finally, she said, "I don't know what you mean."
"You have some powerful connections, Miss Weasley," Lillian said coolly. In spite of this admission, she didn't seem the least bit worried or annoyed. "You are a friend to the Minister of Magic. Indeed, you have many friends in the Ministry. And your family, well—they made it clear how they feel at your party, didn't they? Imagine them, standing up to me—standing between me and my grandson! The nerve," she added, though she didn't sound at all upset. Only amused, if anything.
"What's your point?" Ginny demanded, nonplussed.
"My point," Lillian said, any trace of amusement gone from her voice, "is that you had better not stoop to trying to use any of those connections. This fight is between Draco and myself. If you wish to help him, on your own behalf, well, you are his wife, I cannot begrudge you that. But if you try to use anyone else to fight for you, to help you, well, then, I will be forced to play on my own connections. Or rather, my own information."
A chill ran through Ginny. "What information?"
"Oh, there are all sorts of dark things hidden in your closets, aren't there, Miss Weasley?" Lillian asked, smiling up at her. "Your closets, and Draco's. It would be only so easy to bring so many things to light."
Ginny stared at her, nearly shaking with anger now. How dare this woman come and threaten her, threaten Draco? "You're bluffing," Ginny said. "I don't think you know anything about us. What could you possibly—"
"You had a conversation, I understand, with Theodore Nott," Lillian said, cutting straight through Ginny. "When the Riddle House was raided. He asked you for a favor, did he not? And you saw it done, didn't you?"
Ginny felt her blood run cold. She couldn't move. She only looked at Lillian, hoping her expression was blank, utterly blank. How she could possibly know…who could've told her that…except maybe Theo himself….
"You have no proof," Ginny heard herself say. "I didn't do anything. You can't—"
"Oh, but to even bring something like that up, well." Lillian smiled again. "The Ministry would have to launch a full-scale investigation, wouldn't they? Into your life, and Draco's. And then what kinds of things would they find? What would they find out about you, Miss Weasley? Only I find it curious, you see, that Theodore Nott would make such a request of you…why he would think you could see it done…."
Ginny suppressed a flinch. The Mark on her arm suddenly felt as though it were burning, though she knew it wasn't, not really. She resisted the urge to hide it behind her back.
"And as for Draco, well…the Aurors would seize upon a chance to investigate him, to really investigate him. The only reason they haven't done so far is because he has a cousin in the Auror Office who is, I am told, fond of him. And I believe she has done what she can to, shall we say, suppress any suspicions surrounding Draco."
This, Ginny knew to be true. Tonks had told Draco as much after the Riddle House had been raided, shortly before they took the manor. She had warned Draco that she could only do so much, to help him.
"And yet, there are so many things suspicious about Draco," Lillian Moon went on. "That he knew where the Death Eaters were hiding out, at the Riddle House…that he may still be in contact with his father, and other Death Eaters…why, there are probably all sorts of secrets that he is keeping. Perhaps even from you."
Ginny remained quite still, struggling to remain impassive; she would not allow Lillian to see the effect her words were having on Ginny.
"So you see," Lillian said. She took another step up. She was quite tall, and level with Ginny now, eye to eye. "It would be only too easy for me to bring forth any number of things that would—quite aside from taking Will from you—completely destroy your life, and Draco's."
She was so blunt about it, so unafraid. "And why should I believe you won't do any of this anyway?" she asked icily.
"Oh, I won't," Lillian Moon assured her. "So long as you keep out of it, Miss Weasley. So long as you don't go looking for any favors or help from outside. I am more than willing to allow the Ministry to settle this, fairly and legally, without resorting to any trickery. I believe I have a good case, you see, without anything I just mentioned to you. So. Do we have a deal?"
She raised her eyebrows, looking at Ginny expectantly, waiting for some answer or reaction.
Ginny swallowed. She hadn't really thought about going to anyone else for help, not yet, though she supposed she would have, had it come to that. But what was she agreeing to, really…she and Draco could fight her, fair and square, without any favors….
Draco would never, ever let this evil woman take Will from them. Not ever.
"Fine." Ginny bit the inside of her cheek. It galled her to agree on anything with this woman, but this trade was nothing, really. If anything, she was helping them, Will and Draco, having Lillian Moon agree to keep quiet about a number of things that could seriously hurt them. "Fine. I agree."
Lillian Moon reached out a lace-gloved hand to her. Stifling her rage, Ginny took it, and they shook hands.
With her new resolution to stick by Draco in order to fight for Will, Ginny had decided she had to let go of Blaise, completely. She had to forget him, what he'd done to her, the secrets he had built up between her and Draco. So she decided to go see him, one last time, to let him know that she wouldn't ever be coming back. She should have said as much last time, when she'd confronted him, but she'd stormed out of there quickly, leaving much unsaid between them.
As soon as she emerged from the tunnel and came out into the pantry, however, she knew something was wrong. She couldn't see any light peeking out through the door; instead, the acrid smell of smoke instantly choked her, filling the little pantry. Spluttering and coughing, she pushed open the pantry door and stumbled out.
The kitchen, on her right, was filled with smoke. Ginny pulled her wand out and squinted, trying to see through it all. She tripped over something as she stepped inside; the crates, against the wall, had all burst open, their contents spilling everywhere.
Ginny tried to breathe, tried to see, but the room was thick with black smoke. "Blaise?" she coughed. "Blaise!"
She wiped her eyes. Then she saw it. A body, on the far side of the room, crumpled in the corner. Still holding her wand aloft, Ginny hurried over, through the smoke, hacking and blinking. "Blaise—"
But it wasn't Blaise at all. In fact, it wasn't even a man; that was the first thing Ginny noticed. She tried to peer at the woman's face, tried to see if she recognized her, but the smoke was so thick that Ginny couldn't see.
Hastily stowing her wand away, Ginny got her hands under the woman's arms and heaved her across the kitchen, through the smoke. She didn't stop until she'd gotten her all the way into the pantry. There, she laid the woman down, wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she took her wand out again and said, "Lumos!"
Her wand tip lit. Ginny bent down with it, and peered at the woman's soot-blackened face.
It was Hermione.
A sound that was half a gasp, half a cry, escaped Ginny's lips. Hermione. Hermione? What was she doing here! In Malfoy Manor? And where was Blaise, what had happened to him, what had happened here—
"Hermione!" Ginny took hold of her by the shoulder and shook her. "Hermione!"
Hermione didn't stir. Ginny swallowed, staring at her. She hadn't seen Hermione in years, though she had received letters from her, just stating that she was okay, that Ginny mustn't come looking for her. She had judged by those letters that Hermione was in hiding somewhere far off, yet she was here, in Malfoy Manor. Where Blaise had been hiding. Where Ginny had lived. What was she doing here?
Just then, a surge of shouting reached her ears. Ginny gasped and looked up, squinting through the crack in the pantry door. Someone was coming, a lot of people, by the sound of it. Either the people who had…attacked the kitchen…because that seemed a likely explanation…or Ministry officials, somehow alerted to something in the manor.
Either way, Ginny had to get the both of them out of there. "Hermione!" she whispered frantically. Pointing her wand at the woman, she said, "Rennervate!"
Coughing and gasping for breath, Hermione stirred. She blinked blearily, her eyes watering with the smoke covering her face. "Wh—what?" She looked blankly up at Ginny.
"Just hold on tight to me," Ginny instructed. "Okay? Do you understand? I'm going to Apparate."
Thankfully, this must have penetrated through Hermione's hazy state, because she wrapped an arm around Ginny's own arm, squeezing on tightly. Ginny stood, half-dragging Hermione with her; Hermione didn't seem able to stand on her own two feet. Ginny turned on the spot, and the dark, smoky pantry disappeared.
They re-appeared in the alley a block down from the townhouse. Ginny had only thought of home, but now she wondered if she shouldn't have taken Hermione somewhere else. The Burrow, or maybe even St. Mungo's. Because now they had to walk out onto the street in the middle of the day, and Hermione could barely walk, and was covered in smoke.
"Hermione," Ginny said urgently. "Hermione, can you hear me?"
To Ginny's intense relief, Hermione coughed and stirred. Ginny had thought that Apparating might cause her to completely pass out again, but she was still awake, even more so than before, it seemed. She let go of Ginny's arm and stumbled a little, over to the wall of the alley, and leaned against it. She looked round at Ginny with wide, frantic eyes. "Gin—Ginny," she gasped. "How did you—where—"
"We're just a block down from my house," Ginny said, looking at her in concern. "Can you walk down there? It's not far, not five minutes, I promise. Maybe we should go to my mum's, or to hospital—"
"No!" Hermione let out a hacking cough. "No, I can make it, I don't want—no—just give me a—a minute." She let out another cough and gasped in the clean air.
Ginny hastily removed her cardigan. She wiped Hermione's face and hair mostly clean with the inside of it, and then helped her put it on, over the rest of her clothes. Now she looked mostly clean, though still somewhat like a homeless vagabond. Together, they set out into the street, Ginny supporting Hermione as inconspicuously as possible. They only passed one other person on their side of the street, and the middle-aged woman simply shot them a quick glance and then kept on walking.
It felt like forever before they reached the townhouse. Once they were inside and the door shut behind them, Ginny shouted for Nuly and Tasher. Nuly came scurrying in from the sitting room immediately, and Tasher appeared a few minutes later, from upstairs.
Ginny had about a million questions for Hermione, but she stifled her curiosity, her concern. She had to see to Hermione first. She helped Hermione into the sitting room—she would have preferred to get her into a bed, but thought it best not to try the stairs yet—so they settled her on the long, comfortable sofa in the sitting room.
As Nuly set to helping Hermione get settled, propping her up with pillows and a blanket, Ginny went to get a wet cloth and towel. When she came back, Hermione looked comfortable though weary, blinking in the daylight streaming in through the long windows facing the garden out back.
"I can shut them, if the light's bothering you," Ginny said, half-raising her wand to do so.
"No," Hermione said quickly. "No, I've—had precious little daylight lately," she said, giving a weak little laugh.
Tasher came in with a tray laden with tomato soup, hot rolls with butter, three different kinds of sandwiches, a goblet of pumpkin juice, and a glass of water. Ginny marveled that he'd gotten all that together so fast. He set it on the small table beside the sofa, while Ginny sat beside Hermione with her wet cloth.
"Here," she said. She started to reach out, to clean Hermione's face, but Hermione seemed much more alert and awake than she had before. "Or, well—if you—"
"I can do it," Hermione said ruefully, taking the wet cloth from her. She ran it over her face, and then through her hair. "Ugh. I'll need a proper bath."
"Hermione—" Ginny shook her head. "I don't understand. What were you doing in Malfoy Manor? What—what are you doing here? I mean—I thought—"
Hermione put the wet cloth down abruptly. Her expression was one of such consternation that Ginny immediately felt sorry for even asking any questions. "Ginny, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. "I've—I know it's been ages, and my letters said absolutely nothing. I—well, like I wrote to you, I just…had to get away for a while." She swallowed visibly. "After what happened—at the Ministry—"
A flash of pain went through Ginny. She hardly ever thought of Ron anymore, not because she didn't love him or miss him, but because she had so convinced herself that he was still alive, that he was out there, somewhere, probably with Harry by now. "Do you—I mean—" she started to say, but Hermione went on before she could get the question out.
"But I haven't just been—I mean, I've been looking for Harry," Hermione said earnestly. "For over a year now, I've been trying to find him, and still trying to—well, to do what Dumbledore had left us to do. That's—erm—well, that's why I've come back here, really. To the wizarding world, I mean."
"But no one knows you're here?" Ginny asked.
Hermione shook her head. "No, and Ginny, that's why—that's why I didn't want to go to the Burrow, or—or anywhere else, really. I haven't—I didn't want anyone to know I was back, not until—I mean, it would just be t-too hard. I wanted to find Harry first, I guess, and maybe—maybe—"
"Miss Ginny." Nuly came hurrying back into the room from the entrance hall. "Miss Ginny, Master Malfoy is Flooing for you, Miss Ginny. In the fire in the parlor, Miss Ginny."
"Oh." Ginny frowned, tossing a glance at Hermione. She wondered how much Hermione knew about her life, if she'd heard, at all, about her and Draco. Hermione's eyes had gone wide at the mention of Malfoy, and Ginny quickly said, "Oh, don't worry, Hermione, I won't tell him you're here, I promise." She jumped to her feet.
"Oh, well, okay—but, Ginny—"
Ginny hurried out of the room and upstairs, to the parlor on the first floor. Draco's head was in the fireplace, lit all around by green flames. "There you are," he said crossly, as she crouched on the floor in front of him. "Look, I'm coming home early, I'll be there soon. Do I need to pick Will up from some place?"
"Oh." Draco usually Flooed before he left to see if he needed to pick up Will, as Ginny, Fleur, and Diana were constantly dropping their children off with each other, when one had to run errands or had an appointment during the day. But she hadn't expected him so early; it was not even four o'clock yet. "Erm—yes, he's at the Burrow—but what are you coming home early for?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound too desperate.
"There was some kind of breach at the manor," he said, sounding cross. It was odd; she thought he sounded like he was trying to make it out to be no big deal, but his forehead was wrinkled with concern. "Actually, it looks like someone attacked the place, apparently. I had to answer some questions…anyway, there's no point me staying here any longer, I just thought I'd come home."
"Oh," Ginny said awkwardly. "Well—okay. But—"
"I'll stop by the Burrow and then I'll be home. See you."
With that, he disappeared from the fireplace, and the flames died down. Ginny stared at the empty grate in consternation. She didn't want to move Hermione now, she could not see moving her. Maybe Hermione wouldn't mind if Draco knew she was here. It wasn't as though Draco would tell anyone, not if she asked him not to.
As she got to her feet and went back downstairs, she realized why Draco had seemed so distracted, and she felt an idiot for not putting it together before. Draco knew Blaise was staying at the manor, if Blaise was to be believed. And if the manor had been breached, attacked, then he must have suspected it had something to do with Blaise.
And had it? Hermione had not yet told her what she had been doing there, what had happened, at the manor. Had Blaise been there? Had he been attacked, maybe taken, by Death Eaters? She had no idea. She still didn't even fully understand what connection Blaise had with the Death Eaters—if he was one himself, or if he really had been hiding out from them. None of it made any sense.
"Draco's coming home," Ginny announced, as she came back into the sitting room. "In about five minutes. Apparently, they told him about the breach at the manor, they had to question him. Hermione, I know you said you don't want anyone to know you're here, but I think—"
"Oh, it's—it's all right, Ginny," Hermione said. For some reason, she had gone a little pink. "Draco knowing I'm here, I mean."
"Good," Ginny said quickly. "Because it's just easier if you stay here, only there's no time, he'll be home any minute—oh, damn," she said, another wave of realization hitting her. Too much had happened in the last half an hour, she couldn't think straight.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, frowning.
"Hermione, look—" Ginny crossed to the sofa and sat down opposite Hermione. "Listen, I—I don't want Malfoy to know I found you at the manor. Okay?"
"Erm—okay," Hermione said, looking a bit uneasy. "But, Ginny—he'll know—because—"
"I suppose you can tell him you were at the manor," Ginny said, thinking quickly, "if that's easier, but, just tell him that you Apparated here, okay? You can tell him you knew where we lived, it's been in the papers, so it wouldn't be that hard—"
"But, Ginny," Hermione interrupted, "why don't you want him to know you were there?" Then, before Ginny could answer, her brown eyes narrowed. "Is this about Blaise Zabini? You were there to see him again, weren't you?"
Ginny's jaw dropped. "I—but—how—" She felt as though her heart had stopped, for a moment. How did she know—?
Just then, the sound of the front door opening floated in through the open sitting room doors, and Draco called, "Ginny? Where are you?"
Trying to overcome this latest shock, Ginny shot Hermione a quick, panicked look, and said, "Just don't tell him, please." She hurried to her feet and darted out into the entrance hall, before Draco could come in.
Chapter End Notes:
I thought the end was a bit awkward, but this chapter and the next were originally one, only they had to be split, and there really was no other place to split them. I'll try to get the next chapter up by the end of the week! It's written, I just have to find the time to proofread it :)