A/N: I'm back. It's been a long three months, and this offering feels sub-par, but after the PMs asking if I had died and the members of The DG Forum hounding me endlessly, I overcame the writer's block. Keep pestering me; the guilt does wonders for my muse.
Warnings: Blood, Character Death
Ginny speared the filet of salmon viciously, glaring at each of her brothers as though she was observing a tennis game and fiercely hoping that both players would lose.
"So?" she interjected into the silence, "You told me to wait until dinner. It's dinner. What in the hell is going on?"
Charlie glanced at Bill, who covered his wife's hand protectively and cleared his throat.
"We've been noticing some...well, some patterns. What you told us this morning is confirming that."
"Your diplomat-banker skills are not going to work on me, Bill. I just went through hell and I deserve a real answer." Ginny shot back, staring hard at her brother and simultaneously forking the fish into her mouth. Narcissa would have hives if she were present to witness her behavior, she thought smugly.
Charlie sighed and set his fork down.
"We think that Lucius Malfoy is behind the Dark Lord's efforts to seal his control over the Wizarding World. We think he's trying to do more than raid and pillage; Bill's noticed some disturbing trends at Gringotts that seem to point to Malfoy."
"Why in the blazes would that seal his control over the entire world? It's a bank,"
Ginny said as she cut another piece of fish and speared it. Fleur looked ready to reproach her for her horrible manners, but Ginny gave her a withering look. After finally escaping Narcissa's watchful, pretentious eye, she'd rip the meat off the bones with bared teeth before she ate with decorum. The original shock of her rescue had been replaced with weepy relief, but now, hours later, she was feeling rather rebellious.
"No," Bill answered, "it's not the bank, though that's a large part of it. It's banking, investments, commodities, all of it. Someone with a lot of money and a lot of expertise has been carefully manipulating the system—perhaps for years. The economy is in a bad way already, and economics can have more impact on people than terror raids. Shaky money situations make people act out of fear more than a random Dark Mark splashed on the cover of the Daily Prophet ever could. And fear, if properly manipulated, equals control."
Ginny pondered this idea for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. She helped herself to another roll and slowly began to butter it.
"Okay, but what about the other things? The wands and transportation?"
Bill opened his mouth, but Charlie interrupted him.
"We're not sure. But if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is behind Ollivander's disappearance and subsequent reappearance to you and you alone, and also orchestrated your unplanned trip to Malfoy Manor, it leads us to think that perhaps the economy is not the only thing those scheming bastards are trying to overthrow. Take the mysterious stabilization of the Ministry of Magic after the Potter Riots, for example. I bet more than a few of those 'emergency' Wizengamot appointees are in the pocket of a Death Eater."
Ginny bit into her roll. "Wait," she said, butter dripping down her chin, "You're wrong. Voldemort can't be behind this."
Three puzzled faces gazed at her, questioningly.
"Voldemort is decrepit—literally falling apart. Whenever he made a decision about me, it was at Lucius's prompting. He wanted to give me to the Death Eaters, and Lucius talked him out of it."
At the mention of the Death Eaters, the table went silent. Fleur's eyes glistened with tears and Charlie began slicing his filet with vigor that resembled his sister's previous attack on her own dinner. Bill reached across the table and grabbed Ginny's less buttery hand.
"Gin," he said, squeezing her hand tightly, "I still can't forgive myself for not doing more to get you out of there. If they'd—well, I couldn't live with myself."
Ginny gave him a weak smile.
"You had no idea where I was. I survived, and they never really hurt me."
She swallowed. Her brothers had grilled her exhaustively, demanding to know if she had been touched or harmed in any way, and while she'd been truthful, she hadn't told them about either of Malfoy's "lessons." Once her brothers were satisfied that she hadn't been raped or tortured, they had eased up and stopped interrogating her. Still, she felt guilty for keeping that from them.
"Besides," she continued, desperate to talk about something else "you missed my point. That creepy bastard—Malfoy, not Voldemort—is up to something."
Draco stood on the veranda of the Italian villa, watching the sunrise. If he had to pretend to be on honeymoon, he reasoned, he would do it right. As the gentle morning rays of light began to uncurl and stretch over the vineyards, he heard a gentle knock on the doorframe and glanced behind him.
"Good morning, Blaise. Your shirt is bloody," he stated, turning back to the dawn.
Blaise glanced ruefully at his sleeves and quickly whipped out his wand to clean them.
"Your culprit isn't a Death Eater, Draco. They're all clean." He laid an invisibility cloak over the rail of the balcony and leaned over it, bracing his forearms against the hard marble and staring into the sunshine. He took a deep breath, taking in the cool, sweet air.
"You're certain?" Draco said sharply. "They're all clean?"
"Quite. And before you ask, none of them have any idea that she's gone."
"And the blood?"
"Oh, that's from something else entirely." Blaise smirked, and Draco raised his eyebrows and changed the subject.
"Has my father—you know—have you spoken to him?"
"No. No one I talked to has seen him since you did, night before last."
Draco straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. The sun played with the blond strands and they gleamed as the morning light filtered through them.
"Merlin, Draco. Did you sleep at all last night?" Blaise said, taking in Draco's unkempt appearance. His black trousers were wrinkled and his shirt hung unbuttoned, leaving his chest glowing in the sunrise, sharply contrasting with the black fabric that framed it.
"Yes, I did." Draco said proudly, then smirked ruefully. "At least, I think I did. A little."
Blaise smiled.
"So, we need to find your little bride, hm?"
"The Mudblood knows nothing?"
Blaise's smile faded. "Granger? No. She hasn't a clue."
Draco nodded and drew a sharp breath. "Blaise, I know you were probably more than a little shocked when I told you everything yesterday. I just…I want you to know…"
Blaise shook his head. "I'm not offended that you kept it from me, mate. I'd follow you to the end of the earth, and I wholeheartedly approve of what your father is doing. I was never sold out to Voldemort. You know that."
Draco sighed. "Yeah. I just wanted to make sure that things were good."
Blaise glanced sidelong at Draco and flicked open a cigarette case. He lit one and took a long drag as the two young men stared at the brightening morning.
"They're good. They'd be better if we knew where Weasley—sorry, Mrs. Malfoy—was."
Draco turned sharply and faced the villa, leaning back on the railing with his elbows.
"France. Last time I found her, she was in France...and her brother married a French girl. The one from the Triwizard Tournament. Remember her?"
Blaise smirked. "Oh, do I. Fleur Delacour. How'd a hot little piece like that end up with a Weasley?"
Draco snorted. "I have no idea…but I say we pay the Delacour family a little visit."
"Aren't they in hiding?" Blaise questioned, taking another drag.
"Aren't we all?" said Draco sardonically, buttoning his shirt. "Let's go."
"Can't a man get breakfast first?" Blaise joked as he followed Draco through the double doors into the sweeping master suite of the villa. The bed, Blaise noted, was untouched.
"Roosy!" Draco yelled, performing a dewrinkling charm on his clothes. The small House Elf snapped into the room loudly. "There you are. Pack Master Blaise and myself some breakfast. Fette biscottate and some strong coffee.
The elf was back by the time Draco had charmed his hair to fall in neat disarray. Blaise took a sip of his coffee.
"So, where to?"
"That's easy. We'll start at St. Galen's."
He pulled out his wand and Apparated with a light pop. Blaise tossed his empty cup on the table and followed suit.
Lucius Apparated into his study at almost the exact same time. The girl had been gone for two full days now, and he'd been putting off the inevitable in the hope that Draco would find her. But the news from Italy was not good; the young Zabini that his son confided in had spent the last two days performing a rather thorough investigation of the Death Eater homes, and hadn't found a thing.
During that time, Lucius himself had paid a visit to Bellatrix to see if she knew anything about Ginevra's disappearance. He shuddered at the memory. His sister-in-law had spent the entire meeting staring at the Dark Mark on her own arm and fondling it lovingly. She was far too insane to be involved in anything remotely resembling subterfuge. Lucius sighed over the loss of her sanity; he had once respected Bellatrix's ambition and cunning.
He added a dose of brandy to the steaming mug of coffee the House Elf had placed on his desk, thankful for the small, daily regularities. Stirring the beverage absently, he flicked his eyes over the Daily Prophet, which sat next to the coffee as usual. There was nothing of value in the headlines, but still Lucius' eyes prowled through the paper, knowing full well that the nasty little details on page eight could turn into the shattering events on page one if fed and watered with care.
There was nothing truly useful, and Lucius sighed. He was avoiding the task at hand and there was no more room to do that. He needed to act.
The powerful man stood and stalked to Draco's study, his footfalls light in the parquet hallway. The door to his son's room was slightly ajar, and Lucius entered brazenly, determined to hide his apprehension even from himself.
He moved to his son's desk and broke the charm that locked the drawer in place. He scanned the pigeonholes and then slid open the shallow center drawer. There, lying on a square of green velvet, were two wands, one of ash and another of birch. He locked the drawer again and placed all the charms back around the desk, then slipped out of the room.
Back in his own study, Lucius pulled a scroll from his own desk and then retrieved the shortest wand and examined it. It was just slightly springy, and he smirked before Apparating to Lord Voldemort's chamber.
The inhuman wizard lay in bed, his wand resting on his nightstand. He snored lightly and Lucius curled his nose up in disgust.
"My Lord," Lucius said, prodding the dying man with the tip of his wand, "My Lord."
Voldemort woke with a snort and narrowed his eyes at Lucius.
"What are you doing here, unsummoned?" he hissed.
"My Lord, I have the writ of inheritance. You only need to sign and the succession of your empire is guaranteed." Lucius unfurled the scroll, which shimmered with the subtle glow of a magical contract.
"Nonsense, Lucius. Where is your son? Did he complete the sang primoris?" the Dark Lord rasped.
"Draco is enjoying his lovely little bride, My Lord." Lucius said, inclining his head with a slight nod.
"I will guarantee him nothing until he steps into my presence and takes my mark." growled Voldemort, glaring fiercely, his eyes narrowing into gouged slits in his grey head.
Lucius was unfazed. He slipped the birch wand from his pocket.
"Accio wand!" he hissed, catching the thin yew stick as it flew from the nightstand before the older wizard could reach it. "Are you sure you won't reconsider, old man?" Lucius whispered with a tight smile.
"Very sure." Voldemort cackled, "you forget my skills as a Legilimens show me that you are too loyal to follow through on any threat."
"Oh, am I?" said Lucius darkly, his agate-grey eyes fierce and open as he dropped the careful layer of false truths, allowing Voldemort to see a few choice thoughts.
For years, Lucius had slowly built up the cranial façade of a simpering, loyal fool of a man. He had indulged the Dark Lord's fantasies about his undying service. It was almost as if the foul being wanted to convert all the cunning Slytherin minds that served him into docile obedient Hufflepuffs, Lucius thought bitterly, showing Voldemort every patronizing thought—all the arrogance, insurgence, and even pity that his mind contained.
"Using Draco, I will build your shabby rabble into an empire beyond what your vengeance-poisoned brain could imagine. You might be a descendant of Salazar, but by his name, you are nothing," Lucius hissed, stabbing the birch wand into Voldemort's throat.
"I won't reward a traitor, Lucius," rasped Voldemort.
"Crucio!" Lucius cried, pouring years of frustration, loathing, and hatred into the curse. He watched in disgust as the decrepit man writhed in agony before he released him.
"Will you change your mind?"
Voldemort shook his head and sneered.
"Crucio!"
The wizard formerly known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named began to come apart at the seams. Blood oozed out of his nose and ears, and yet when Lucius released him again and held a quill out to him, he spat on it.
"Well, My Lord," Lucius said slowly, as though he was talking to a child, "If that is your opinion, I suppose I'll have to go with my alternate plan." He leaned down and whispered, "Your reign is over either way. Avada Kedavra!"
The bolt of green light hit the Dark Lord's chest firmly, and Voldemort fell back onto the blood-stained sheets, his eyes staring in death.
Lucius looked down on the body of Tom Riddle with a sneer, and then he dropped the wand and let it roll under the bed. He pulled the ash wand from his cloak and Apparated back home.
He had lunch plans with Narcissa.
Ginny leaned out over the railing of a marble balcony at Beauxbatons and watched the sun dip over the horizon. She breathed in the cool night air and felt a sense of immense peace wash over her. The last sunset she had seen, two nights ago, had felt as if it had been signifying her death. This one felt hopeful, for she knew it would be followed by a velvety warm night complete with stars and a bright moon, and she let the peace enfold her.
Charlie stepped next to her and gave a low whistle.
"Have you ever seen a prettier sunset?"
Ginny shook her head. The two stood there in silence for a few long moments, comfortable in each other's presence. A peacock screeched and Charlie chuckled quietly.
"I'll never understand the attraction of having peacocks roam around a perfectly nice garden."
Ginny groaned, thinking of Malfoy Manor's pretentious white birds. "Tell me about it."
"Well, okay, they have the most annoying cry and they crap everywhere." Ginny punched him in the arm and he laughed. "Give me dragons any day."
Ginny laughed and sighed. It felt so good to be with people she loved again.
"Say, Gin, Bill and I were talking. We think that it might be possible for Malfoy to trace you here, and he does have connections in France. That is, if you think he's going to try to get you back."
Ginny stiffened against the railing. A sleepy breeze blew across the purpling sky and ruffled her hair as she turned, brown eyes wide, and stared at Charlie.
"You're going to put me in hiding again, aren't you?"
"Only to keep you safe, Ginny. We're thinking Muggle London. Kingsley's family."
Ginny felt her stomach begin to melt. "But…but you and Bill…"
"I know, Gin-Gin." Charlie wrapped an arm around her and was silent for a moment before continuing, "but we'd rather know you were safe and sound and far away than worry every second about you falling into the hands of those monsters—especially in the light of what you told us last night."
Ginny put her head in her hands and frowned into the sunset.
"I'd rather do something useful for once, Charlie. I feel like I've been locked away my entire life."
"If I promise to write twice a week and find something for you to do, will you do it?"
Ginny looked up into her closest brother's pleading brown eyes and smiled sadly.
"Muggle London, huh? Maybe I can finally figure out what rubber duckies are for."
Charlie clapped her on the back. "That's my girl," he said, pulling her in for a hug.
A/N: I'm aware that there is no D/G in this entire chapter (it was exceedingly hard to not write it in!). Stay tuned. I'm just getting started...muahahaaa.
Don't forget to review!