I wipe the sweat off my brow with a grimy hand, smearing wax on my face as I pause to take a break from waxing the floor. Hepzibah has been punishing me the last few days by forcing me to do menial tasks in retribution for the altercation with Tom. So far I had been forced to polish the silverware until I could see my own gaunt face in it, bullied into climbing into the earthen oven in the kitchen and cleaning grease from the inside, and prodded into planting two hundred red roses in the garden.

This work reminds me of a muggle fairy tale, Cindersmella or something, about a girl who is forced to be a servant until one day she is rescued by her prince and lives happily ever after. I snort as I imagine myself as her; my story is a little different than hers. I found and then lost my prince before I became a servant. There is no one coming to save me now and I'm no princess, if anything, I'm the dragon.

I am startled out of my thoughts by the sound of the ancient doorbell. I quickly wipe my face with my sleeve in a futile attempt to look halfway presentable and trudge to the door, my trepidation increasing as I hope against hope that it's not him again.

I open the door in slow motion and blink as I take in bright blond hair and alabaster skin offset with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. He seems so familiar, like I should immediately know him.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm here to inquire about Ms. Hepzibah Smith?" The apparition crisply acquires.

"She is not home," I reply distractedly, still trying to puzzle out his identity, "I can tell her you asked for her. She'll get back to you as soon as possible, if you don't mind leaving your name and contact information with me."

"Abraxas Malfoy," he responds automatically, looking taken aback.

I immediately realize my mistake. He is a prominent member of the pure blood society, every witch and wizard in England knows who he is.

"Of course," I say haughtily, trying to cover my slip up. "I'll tell her you came by."

I move to close the door and he hurriedly moves in between the door and the frame," Wait!"

"May I know your name?" He quickly blurts out. I give him a suspicious glare, my guard immediately up.

"So that I can tell the Ministry that you received me," he hurriedly explains, "It is for the report I have to write."

Ministry? Report? What is he talking about? Since when has any Malfoy worked a day in their life? Also, what does the Ministry want with Hepzibah?

"Ginny," I surlily reply, opening the door wider.

I watch him with hooded eyes as he pulls out a parchment with an official seal on it and scribbles down my name, "Full name?" He cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Ginny," I obstinately repeat.

He purses his lips and writes it down, "Last name?"

"Evans," the lie easily comes out and I watch him scribble it down too.

"Can you tell me what business you have with Hepzibah?" I ask.

"No, that is confidential information," he curtly responds, his pointy chin lifting up challengingly at the end of his declaration.

I nod and shut the door in his face, cutting off the question that is at the tip of his tongue.

Why is Abraxas Malfoy visiting Hepzibah? And what Ministry business does Malfoy have with her? As far as I know, Hepzibah was a law-abiding witch, except for the occasional indulgence in dark, cursed objects.

Or, perhaps he was here for another reason entirely; my thoughts drift down the morbid road that they often do and ice encases my soul as I think of the person who could have sent him here. Tom. Tom is suspicious of me, enough to send his lackey to investigate. Of course he would be suspicious, I acted like a neurotic basket case when I first saw him. I even spilled hot tea on him. He wouldn't stand for that of course. I'm actually surprised that he hasn't shown up directly to just kill me on the spot.

My heart starts beating faster as I imagine what is going through his mind. He wants answers and he is willing to do whatever it takes to get them and since Malfoy failed at getting much information out of me, I'm sure that soon enough the devil himself will come knocking again. The panic starts overwhelming me as one after the other, horrific scenarios run through my mind. What he finds out I'm from the future? He would wring all the information out of me and kill me or worse, keep me alive to see the horrific future pass. No, I can't let that happen. Should I pack my bags and go on the run again with Jamie? No, i barely have two galleons to rub together and we would never survive on the streets, especially during this time period. The muggle bombs would get us before anything else would. I push down the fear and curl my fingers into a fist, trying to fight off the panic clawing at my throat. I take deep breaths and quickly walk back upstairs to my room.

"Mommy!" James looks up from his pram and grins at me.

"Baby," I smile back at him and pick him up,"did baby miss me?

"Yes," he replies burrowing his head deep into my neck.

I smile again and tighten my hold on him. I'm not going to let the future happen, not again. It's time to start planning, I don't have the strength to keep running, not anymore.

Why did she not know who I was? I am Abraxas Malfoy, every witch or wizard worth a dung beetle knows who I am. I'm featured in the gossip column of the Daily Prophet every week as old biddies speculate about my eligibleness as a bachelor.

I frown speculatively at the door that was so rudely shut in my face and crumple the form in my hands.

Tom will be livid that I was unable to get any information out of her. The only lead I have is her name, Ginny Evans. Definitely not pure blood, most likely half-blood or mudblood. Merlin, if she's a mudblood Tom will have her head.

I shiver at the thought of the things that Tom Riddle is capable of. Humiliation is his key weapon and I'm glad that we were alone when he tortured me last week, it almost makes it bearable, almost.

I reach the gate at the end of the driveway and apparate back to the manor.

Tizzy opens the gate for me even before I ring the doorbell and stares at me with her large, wet eyes.

"Thank Merlin Master has come!" She wails loudly, "Ms. Ella is commanding Tizzy to be her dance partner and offered Tizzy clothes!" She spits out the word clothes like it is a disease.

"I'll take care of it Tizzy, go back to the kitchen," I brush past her and make my way to the sitting room.

Mother is seated in the center of the room, graciously reigning over her posse of similar minded-sheep-ladies.

She greets me with a smile and a practiced air of concern as I bend down to kiss her cheek. "You're back already darling? Is that useless elf of yours not taking care of you? You certainly look like you've lost quite a bit of weight."

I indulge her fussing as she continues eyeing my supposedly gaunt face and dark circles under my eyes, "Mother, is Ella here?"

"Of course darling, she's in the parlor," she smiles serenely at me as I nod at her and make my way to the parlor. I greet her friends as I walk by, nodding a polite hello here and there, many of them smirking at my apparent eagerness to see my true love. I push open the parlor door, and there she is, Ella.

She's sitting on the edge of her chair, absorbed in colouring a drawing, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail and her tongue poking out between the gap in her teeth.

I smile softly at the sight, the tension in my shoulders abating. I purse my lips and slowly walk up behind her, putting my hands on her shoulders, "My, my don't we look busy today."

She squeals in fright and whirls around, pushing my hands off of her. Her frightened face quickly morphs into a pout when she sees me and she purses her bow lips and looks away in a huff.

"What, you're not even going to say hello?" I ask her teasingly, stepping in her line of vision.

"No," the petulant reply comes instantly, "I don't want to see you or talk to you ever again."

I gasp in mock horror at her pronouncement and back away from her, "I'm hurt! Here I thought you would be delighted to see me and instead you won't even look at me."

"You said you would be at my recital yesterday and you didn't even show up!"

"Well, that was because I was buying you something so amazing, that I had to practically beg a man on my hands and knees to let me buy it."

Or I was being tortured by a psychopath for mistakenly calling him a dark Lord in public.

Her eyes pique in interest, but she tries to quell it unsuccessfully, "Oh, then where is it?"

"Here," I produce the shrunken object from the depth of my robes and tap it with my wand. I can't help but grin at the look of astonishment and happiness on Ella's face as I bow to her and present her with the gift, "Your servant is ever at your service."

She takes the music box in her hand gently, smiling as she watches the little ballerina twirl in the center as soft music flows from the box.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs, entranced by the figurine.

"Not more than you, princess," I take a seat near her and softly weave my hand through her soft curls, marveling at how beautiful she is. This is what makes being a part of Riddle's gang bearable, knowing that I'm protecting her.