I've gotten several messages in the last two months asking if I was going to offer any background on what's happened to the others in the last six years. Here, finally, are some of the answers. If you were reading the gratuitous lovemaking scene from the previous chapter and thinking, 'darn, I wonder what happened to McGonagall,' you don't have to wonder anymore. ;) I'm developing WERA in the next few chapters, and the plot sort of explodes. I apologize for the lack of Dramione; it can't be helped. They are a part of something bigger. In this chapter and the next, there will be character death, so just a warning. I do not plan on killing off any main characters or children, but other than that, well, you've been warned. Oh, and I did change some of the Ministry department names – since Voldie's in charge, and all that.
LCailan
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Pansy gripped the letter with both hands, as if wanting to destroy the very paper it was printed on. The Ministry of Magic letterhead taunted her each time she lifted her eyes towards it, the offending black lettering glaring back at her, mocking her with the finality of what was written there.
"Bloody hell!"
The curse echoed in the tiny tea shop where she was meeting Marcus Flint, and Pansy was so angry she didn't notice a pair of striking, dark eyes watching her every move. Indeed, she was so upset she hardly noticed anything around her, but for the official missive she had received from the Ministry just minutes before. She re-read it for the hundredth time.
Dear Madame Parkinson,
Due to the increased necessity for child experimentation at Azkaban, the Ministry requests the return of one Lily Potter who will be sent to the prison without delay. You are required to relinquish the child by the morning of the first day of the coming week. If a child is needed for your personal use, the Ministry will allow you a replacement as soon as is realistically possible.
Thank you and we apologize for any inconvenience to you or your family,
W. Macnair
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
Dementor Research Bureau
Dangerous Beings Division
Tossing the letter on the table, Pansy threw herself against the chair, frowning.
"Bloody hell," she spat again, wondering what she would do now.
Lily Potter had been the only bargaining chip in her efforts to secure Draco's eventual affections, and although it had been over two months now, she had been certain that soon enough the stupid Mudblood bitch Granger would have guilt tripped Draco into trading her for the little girl. Pansy knew Granger cared about Harry Potter's heinous offspring more than she cared about herself. Then why-
He has to have told her! It doesn't make sense otherwise. Certainly, he can't care for her! What's one Mudblood?
The thought stoked Pansy's slowly burning wrath. She didn't hear the bell tinkling to signal a new arrival, and nearly jumped when she heard his voice.
"Pans, what's got your knickers in a wad?"
Marcus Flint, ever the charmer, dropped himself into the chair opposite Pansy's, giving her an appreciative leer. She wanted to punch him in his troll-like face, but refrained, instead pushing the letter across the table at him.
"This."
Her jaw was clenched as he read it. She wondered for a moment if Marcus could even read; he hadn't been that bright during their school days. She watched as he looked up at her, scratching his head.
"We do need the children."
"I don't bloody care!"
The screech was a bit loud, and lowering her head, Pansy fought for control as she spoke.
"Lily is mine."
"Technically, she belongs to the alienage."
"Yes! The alienage which I run!"
"Well, don't throw a wobbly over it, Pans."
"Piss off!"
Marcus leaned back in his chair, a scowl on his face. He had hoped that Pansy would be in a good mood. Though their relationship was nothing if not volatile, her temper and his energy were often conducive to a fair tumble between the sheets, and frankly, that was all he cared about.
"Well, if you have a problem, go see Blaise Zabini. He's the one who requested the transfer. Got an owl about it this morning and Macnair approved. That alienage on the west side of London which Zabini runs is crawling with dirty, Mudblood children, and the truth is we need the bodies."
Pansy studied her fingernails, feigning casualness she didn't feel.
"Blaise, you say?"
She made a strange noise under her breath.
"Never did like him."
She watched Marcus, who sneered.
"Dodgy, he is. Quiet. Macnair is just chuffed to bits over him, though I don't know why. Blaise was his right hand man for awhile in the Department Care and Control, you know. Suck up, I reckon."
Pansy stared out of the window, a tight, pinched expression on her face. Perhaps, he was dodgy, and quiet, and a suck up. But, he was also in charge at the western alienage, just as Draco was in charge of the one on the east side of the city. And, the fact that the two men had been long-time acquaintances was not lost on Pansy, who was possessed of rather paranoid personality, especially when something didn't go her way.
It would be just like Draco to go behind my back, wouldn't it?
She gnawed at her lower lip.
Though I can't quite prove it, can I? Bugger!
"I don't give a toss if he IS smart! He's a bastard, just like the rest of us. Wagging his dick around until some Mudblood is up the doss? Rumor was that he was arse over tit for her, too. This world doesn't make a lick of sense sometimes."
Pansy refrained from rolling her eyes, her irritation making it difficult to have patience with Marcus, who was even mildly irritating on her good days. She kept him around simply because he was good for a little slap-and-tickle. Otherwise, he disgusted her.
She groaned and sat back.
"They never did find the cow he knocked up, did they?"
Marcus grinned.
"No, but there was some bitch for awhile that they suspected. Don't even know if the baby was born, or if it's still alive. He hid it all well, he did."
Disappointment reigned within Pansy, and she groaned. One way to eliminate the problem that was Blaise Zabini would have been to expose all the nasty secrets he had been hiding, but it looked like that was out of the question as well. Digging around wasn't Pansy's forte, and she didn't have that kind of time, anyway. There were too many eyes on her as it was, and to get caught snooping where she wasn't supposed to be would ruin her.
The dark eyes that had been following Pansy from the moment she walked into the tea shop widened now, and there were footsteps from behind, that stopped with a slight hesitation before their owner spoke.
"I have the truth about Blaise Zabini, if you want it."
The voice was clear and confident, and Astoria Greengrass offered Pansy a beautiful, yet calculating smile. Pansy's eyes widened with interest. Life was truly quite serendipitous.
"But, it will cost you."
Pansy groaned. And, annoying.
WERA headquarters, Paddington, London, England
Daisy began to wail lustily just as Padma let Dean Thomas into the rather small flat.
Parvati cradled the baby, whispering to her, trying to soothe her even though she had been grizzling all morning. The door was squeaky and the baby a light sleeper, which was unfortunate for the other occupants of the flat. But none would ever complain; this was their life now, it was what they had chosen.
Parvati gazed out of the window at the courtyard below, with the cement walk and sorry looking trees. Beyond that, the gray skyline illuminated nothing but worn down buildings and loose women walking along the main drag, looking for their daily coin. She shuddered inwardly, shushing little Daisy as she rocked her until the baby fell back into sleep. Turning her dark eyes away from the dismal view, Parvati put Daisy back into her crib, and then moved to join her sister and Dean, who were in the main room.
In spite of the darkness and misery life had dealt them, somehow Dean's smile showered them with a bit of joy, as did the weekly allowances of money that Daisy's father would send with WERA, consisting of one hundred galleons, ever week, without fail. It was enough to buy food and clothing for Daisy, and food for herself and her sister, Luna and her twin boys. Even though the flat was uncomfortably cramped for three grown women, a baby and two growing boys, it was still better than some of the deplorable conditions in which their neighbors lived.
No, life wasn't entirely horrid, though Parvati had never imagined that she would ever live the way she was living now. But she would do it, because Lavender had always been her best friend. And because, the other choice was to side with the Ministry, and that was no choice at all.
That day, when she emerged from the bedroom that Daisy shared with the boys, Dean's face was unusually grave, and it tugged at Parvati's heartstrings. She realized how much she had relied on Dean's natural happiness, and how much drearier life seemed without his smile. There was a similar, helpless look in Padma's dark eyes.
"How many died?"
Her tone was tight and she twisted a dark lock of her hair around her finger distractedly.
"Lor' love a duck. They captured a dozen of us. Dementors, I heard."
Padma sighed.
"How'd you hear that?"
"They were talking 'bout it at the pub, a day later. Some of those Minis'ry officials 'ave lips looser than the birds who 'ang around these parts."
He offered a smile, but both women could tell it was a weak attempt. Parvati felt a flutter of fear within her heart.
"You should be careful, Dean. It's not safe out there, especially for half-bloods like you and Seamus. You're the one who risks getting caught each time you come here, to check on us and bring us money. I hate to say it, but they should send a pureblood."
She folded her arms across her small chest and studied him firmly, her dark eyes unyielding. This caused the lanky man to throw his head back and laugh.
"Now, that's funny!"
This time, his smile was more genuine.
"Crikey! I grew up one street away from Cheapside. Nuff said. Never was a truer Cockney, if I do say so myself. And we know how to take care of ourselves, don'tcha worry none."
Though his words were meant to be light and assuring, the look on the Patil twins' faces were nothing if not grave.
Sighing, Parvati moved to the tiny kitchen to offer their weekly guest something to drink.
She spoke, unable to look at him.
"No one escaped?"
"About six of us, yeah? But then, there was a fight. It didn't go so well, know what I mean?"
They didn't. That was, until he told them. And it was worse than the twins had imagined.
WERA headquarters – East London, England
Seamus knelt on the hard ground, holding Oliver Wood's arm out. The other man had turned his face away from the sight of the blood and the strange way his bone was protruding from the general vicinity of his elbow. And, it bloody hurt. Sweat had broken out over his face and even though Seamus was trying to crack jokes, it was impossible not to think of the excruciating pain. But at least, he had survived. He couldn't say that for-
"Hold still."
The gentle yet firm voice of Poppy Pompfrey rang out in the stifling room. Oliver did, wincing as he felt her touch him.
Behind them, Minerva McGonagall stood surveying the situation, her face pinched and her lips pressed in a thin line. Her eyes flickered from Madame Pompfrey, Oliver and Seamus, to a very white-faced Hannah Abbot, who lay unconscious on the worn sofa nearby, and finally to the quiet sobs of Penelope Clearwater, who was curled up in the far corner, against a wall covered with faded, flowery wallpaper.
"It was too early, Mr. Finnigan. We should have waited."
Her words were hushed, but stern, and Seamus looked up, his eyes flickering with annoyance for a moment. He didn't know why it was; he respected Minerva very much, as they all did. Perhaps it was that he was no longer a boy in school, and therefore didn't take well to reprimands from a former Transfiguration professor. Or, it was simply that all his meticulous planning had gone by the wayside because the plans he had concocted to break the Muggle-borns out of Blaise Zabini's alienage had gone so terribly wrong. He had known that they could only help some of them; there were far too many to help them all. But, he had hoped at least some would have managed to escape. As it was, none had, and on top of that, WERA had lost some of their own.
And more than just one or two.
Seamus had hardly any patience to spare, even for a woman whom he very much admired. Clenching his teeth, he spoke.
"I trust Blaise, sure."
"Be that as it may," continued Minerva, "he is not the one who has lost a dozen compatriots, as well as suffering a multitude of injuries. Once Poppy sets Mr. Wood's arm, she must help Miss Abbot, and Mr. Macmillan. And, we nearly lost Filius! Each day he becomes more and more infirm! This war has taken a toll on the strongest men, and I'm just…I don't know anymore."
She was shaking her head, just as Kingsley walked into the room, and Seamus was silently relieved. It was often that Kingsley was able to talk Minerva down when she got this way.
"Blaise is one of us, Minerva, no matter his current situation."
He watched the room in sad silence.
"He provides us with funding, and we owe him much."
Minerva gazed at Kingsley with slight reproach.
"What we need is greater numbers, and we'll never have those if we keep running around higgledy-piggledy the way we have!"
Seamus stood up, wiping the dust from the ground onto his trousers.
"He's got a baby with Lavender! She be one of us, sure! He's got no reason to turn on us!"
Minerva sighed as Kingsley put a large hand on her thin shoulder.
"All I'm saying is that I think we should wait and regroup before trying again."
Seamus looked determined.
"I will in me brown!"
Sighing, the older woman turned around, looking at Kingsley.
"How are the boys?" she asked in a low voice about James and Albus, and Kingsley frowned.
"They could use some company. They don't know yet, but once they do…"
She nodded, licking her lips.
"I'll go sit with them awhile, then. The other night I had them entertained by changing the color of their toys." She offered a sad, tired smile. "I suppose we all need a distraction."
The others in the room watched the matronly witch walk through the doorway and disappear, and no one said anything for a few moments, the only sound being Penelope's soft sobbing.
Kingsley spoke first.
"I hate to disagree with Minerva, Mr. Finnigan. That night was all tomfoolery. It could have been much worse. As it is, it's bad already. What happened?"
Seamus sighed.
"They missed by a hair, they did. I thought Dean and I were goners, sure! And the others…"
He shuddered.
"I thought the Ministry be dense as bottled shite, but their aim is bang on. I was so scared, I nearly shit me cacks!"
Kingsley sighed.
"I should have given you reinforcements."
Seamus shook his head, avoiding both Kingsley's and Oliver's gazes. His face was one of misery.
"Nah, then more would have kicked the bucket, to be sure. I made a right hames of the job, didn't I?"
Kingsley felt a washing of sympathy for the younger man before him, and he moved to put a hand on his shoulder.
"We're all doing the best we can."
Behind them, Hannah stirred on the couch and then lay still, and Penelope sobbed a bit louder as Oliver watched her helplessly. All else was still.
"Come on then, we should help the others outside."
Beyond the dirty windows, Dennis and Colin Creevey were digging two deep holes, lifting dirt with rusted shovels, and clearing out a space. Terry Boot stood to the side, moving the dirt away, and none of them spoke to each other. Kingsley and Seamus left Poppy with the hurt and wounded, as they made their way into the autumn afternoon.
The sun beat down on all of them as they prepared to bury Arthur and Percy Weasley.
All had gone silent in the tiny teashop as Pansy looked down at the information that Astoria had just given her.
"Where did you get this?"
Her voice was sharp and criticizing. Astoria cocked her head, offering a smirk.
"What's it matter? It's what you need, is it not?"
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"I can't use it if I can't confirm it, you gormless bint!"
Astoria took a step back, snatching the papers away before Pansy could react, causing her to scowl in frustration.
"Well, then, I suppose you can't use it then, can you?"
The striking woman lifted a perfectly groomed brow. Pansy grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and then stood to face Astoria. Her face white with frustration, she stiffly reached out for the paperwork.
"Fine, I won't ask where you got it," she ground out, each word a difficulty, and Astoria offered a simpering, satisfied smile.
"I'm glad you see it my way," she continued, moving to hand Pansy the papers.
She stopped short of the other woman's outstretched fingers.
"Remember, it will cost you, though."
Pansy clenched her teeth.
"What do you want?"
Astoria's eyes were deadened.
"I want to know what my husband is doing with that Mudblood bitch he took in as our house girl. I can't ask him myself, because I have an image to uphold and insecurity is not part of that."
Her words were clearly vain, and Pansy wanted to laugh in her face. If Astoria was so blind and stupid that she couldn't see Draco was probably getting his end away with a Mudblood behind her back, well then…
I can't help this bint. She's hopeless. It's rather ironic, though. She must care for Draco to some degree if she's going to this length to learn of what he's been doing. I wonder if she'll be peachy if I happen to steal him from right under her perfect, ickle nose?
Grinning, Pansy offered a musical laugh.
"You've got yourself a deal, Astoria. Give me what I need now, and I'll give you want you want later. I'm sure if there's anything going on between him and that Mudblood, I can find out for sure."
Astoria gave a hesitant nod and then reluctantly handed over the papers which Pansy fisted tightly and handed over to Marcus who was still sitting behind them. Then, she offered her hand to shake with Astoria's. Two sets of dark eyes met over their clasped hands.
The deal was made.
The autumn breeze brought with it a sense of finality, and all around the two small mounds of fresh earth stood the remainder of WERA's organized forces, at least those who had been at the house near the Thames. Here, it was quiet. In the distance one could hear the faint sound of honking cars and if listening hard enough, the rushing of the river. Leaves fell from the trees along the small property, littering the dying grasses with brilliant bursts of color. Oranges, reds, browns and yellows fluttered down around them as Kingsley spoke a few muted words.
Cho Chang and Michael Corner stood nearest the trees, and Ernie Macmillan had his good arm around Penelope, who sobbed into his shoulder, tears of bitter sadness and despair. Her love for Percy had been unspoken, but just as real as anything else in the cruel, mad world. On the other side, nearest to Filius and Kingsley, the Creevey brothers stood with Terry, their faces masks of despair. Seamus stood on Kingsley's other side, his head down. Oliver, whose arm was now in a gray sling, had helped Katie Bell and Lee Jordan move Hannah's chair, for she had been too weak to stand, but still wanted to be there in remembrance of their fallen comrades. Luna had arrived, breathless as usual, but offering her soft words of encouragement all the same. Most of the others had gotten used to her often nonsensical ramblings, and had begun to find them comforting. It helped that her two sons, as identical to their mother as they were to each other, seemed to always bring their own innocent joy into any situation. Lorcan and Lysander, though having lost their own father to the war, had not been stripped of their innocence.
As everyone gathered around the plot of land, the boys ran around the side of the house, looking for James and Albus. Minerva had stayed behind to watch the younger ones.
Filius lifted his hands towards the sky, uttering protective charms under his breath, his fingers trembling due the pain he had gone through and his getting up in years. At the same time, Kingsley lowered his head, and began to speak in a low but commanding voice.
"In all things there is debt to be paid. It comes in many forms – money, time, loss of dignity, of peace, of status, and even of life. We must remember that in war, there is victory, but there is death. Even though it comes with pain and the sense that nothing will be the same again, we must remember those who have died, and that they did not die in vain. This is our battle, and we must see our ultimate goal and not how we have gotten there."
All stared down at the earth where Percy and Arthur had been laid to rest.
"Today, we remember two men who were not only extraordinary wizards, but good friends. We remember a man who raised children, who doted on his wife, and his grandchildren. We remember a man who was strong, steadfast, smart, and willing to recognize his mistakes and ask for forgiveness. He was an uncle, a friend, and would have made a good husband."
Penelope whimpered; her sobs were muffled against Ernie's shirt.
"We grieve loss of life taken from us too early. We cannot understand, and yet, we are asked to accept."
In the distance, Minerva walked along the periphery of the property, holding the hands of Harry Potter's boys, trying to distract them from the stark devastation around them, to offer her own brand of comfort.
Kingsley's voice carried on the breeze, as they all clasped hands.
"But in spite of all this, let us not forget that - even though we have lost loved ones, and will continue to do so until this war is over – we have each other. We have found new kinship and a new goal, and in this cold and lonely world, we can turn to those around us for support."
Minerva stood watching the horizon over the small sloped hill that bordered the property of the headquarters, as four boys walked ahead of her, along the grassy edge.
Let them never feel what we have felt. Let this be over soon.
She could only hope.
James was speaking to his younger brother and Luna Scamander's twin boys, who were listening attentively.
It was something about his father and seeing him again one day, for James talked of it often. He was wiser than his years – a boy so much like his father had been. The loss of Harry and the separation from their mother and Lily had caused Albus to develop a reclusive streak. The young boy hardly ever spoke, unless spoken to, and hadn't taken an interest in anything in months, save for the occasional moment when he could be distracted. Having their grandfather and uncle back in their lives had helped a touch, but the cruel world had taken another nasty swipe at them, and now the boys had only each other.
What a sad world it was indeed.
"Daddy can see us, you know."
Albus blinked.
"All the time?"
"Sure, I think. And Gramma Molly, too. Plus, now, Grandpa will see us."
"And Unca Percy?"
"I think so."
There was a silence. One of the blond twins spoke up, and it took Minerva a moment to determine that it was Lorcan, who was slightly taller and a bit heavier than his brother, Lysander.
"Mama says you'll get to see the Thestrals now."
Lysander, the quiet one, nodded at first, but then spoke up.
"Big black horses, with these huge wings! Mama says we can see them 'cause we saw daddy die."
Albus looked over at the twins curiously.
"Do you think your daddy is with my daddy?"
The twins nodded. James put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Probably. But, we won't know 'til we get there."
Minerva half listened to the conversation between the four boys, and she was reminded for a flash of another four boys whom she had mentored so long ago. All gone now, she realized with a frown. Those years had been happy, bright ones for them, and even now, knowing what would happen to them, the joy of that time was not diminished.
She fought a bout of tears and raised her wrinkled hand to her mouth and turned so that the young boys wouldn't see her pain. She took a moment to gather herself, and just as she did so, there were footsteps behind her and a tug on her long, plaid skirts.
It was Albus, gazing up at her with large, brown eyes.
"Missus McGoggal, can you do the thing with the flowers again?"
She had to chuckle at her name on the lips of a little boy, and though she was no longer young, she managed to lower herself to the ground, the boys surrounding her. And just as she had done each day since the leaves had begun to fall, Minerva lifted her wand and the falling leaves became flowers, floating on the autumn breeze.
This, she could do to bring at least a bit of joy to the lives of four boys too young to have been burdened with the weight of a cruel world.
Pansy watched as Astoria took a step back, and pushed thick handfuls of glorious, dark hair off her shoulders.
"You needn't worry about the authenticity of what I just gave you," she said coolly, gathering her coat and handbag to leave. "I found all that in my husband's study. It's all very real, you see."
Pansy tried to hide the anxiousness she felt, for she wished Astoria would leave her to the papers. Her fingers nearly trembled over them. The fact that life had handed her such rare treasure in a moment of utter hopelessness had truly been…well, not a blessing, she knew. Blessings did not exist. But, perhaps, it was sheer luck. And even a girl down on her luck had a brilliant streak once in a while, she reckoned.
"It's quite fortuitous then," she replied evenly, waiting for Astoria to finish what she had started.
"Remember," said the beautiful woman, "if you don't hold up you end of the bargain, I'll make sure this whole city knows you're the one who brought down Blaise Zabini. And, that's a promise."
Pansy's face twisted into a sneer, and she battled against nasty, biting words that begged to be spoken.
You plastic, doll-like bitch! I'll cut you!
"Of course."
The words she spoke were strangely cool. Astoria hesitated and then with a nod, she was gone, and Pansy stared at her retreating form, the way she carried herself so effortlessly and the expensive looking dress and matching robes she was wearing.
The moment that followed Astoria's departure found Pansy weak-kneed from an onslaught of emotions. She barely managed to sink into her chair, still gripping the papers which would ensure Blaise Zabini's demise within the Ministry.
"You look peaky, Pans."
Marcus' unnecessary observation rang in Pansy's ears, but it was muddled by ringing and her hammering heart. She thought she would faint, and fought with the feeling of light-headedness.
"I'm fine," she lied.
But, she wasn't. Looking down, trembling fingers pushed and lifted paper after paper, and she devoured the information with a nearly manic hunger as if it would disappear if she didn't read it right now.
She found herself at first shocked and then somehow irritatingly impressed with how long Blaise had been pulling the wool over the eyes of the Ministry. The baby had been born; it was a little girl. Six months old, and healthy. He was seeing her as often as he could, and giving money towards her care. And, as far as Pansy could tell, he still held a candle for the mystery Mudblood with whom he had taken to bed.
"There's even an address!"
Her gasp was barely audible as Pansy glanced up, her eyes wide. Though she felt her extremities were icy cold, only Marcus could see the color had drained from her face and that she looked positively stricken.
Yes, it was all there.
"You know what this means, don't you?"
The question was posed as a hiss, and her eyes were too-bright, almost feverish in the dim lighting of the small room.
"If someone finds out, Zabini's gets sacked, he does."
Pansy sat back, feeling weak, as she thought of Draco.
All this time! He's been keeping that sodding secret this whole time!
She couldn't help feeling somewhat impressed in spite of herself.
He's playing both sides, isn't he? Thick bastard doesn't know what's coming to him and Zabini both.
For a moment, Pansy felt a strange stirring of guilt within her belly. It sat there like the remnants of a meal gone bad. She felt nothing for Zabini, one way or another, but she loathed the idea of having Draco involved.
Maybe, if I play my cards right…
Distracted by thought she didn't want to be having, Pansy gazed out of the window at the early morning light. Then she sighed and glanced at Marcus, wondering if he had ever thought what the world would be like if Voldemort hadn't won. She realized that there were moments of weakness, of doubt, of wishing that the world was the way it had been before. Back when her parents were still alive, and she was just a schoolgirl at Hogwarts. It had all seemed so simple, hadn't it? Back then, her biggest worries had been if she would pass her O.W.L.'s in Potions, or if the silver in her dressing robes would match the green in Draco's shirt.
Now…
Her eyes watered and she closed them against the threatening storm of tears. Pansy didn't cry often and there was no way in bloody hell she would allow anyone, not even Marcus, to see her weakness.
"You sure you're all right, Pans? You look right-"
"I told you to piss off!"
The brutish man fell silent, a scowl on his face, and Pansy stood with a newfound determination. The truth was that the world was not what she had hoped it would be. The placid dream of settling down and having a family was as dead as her parents and the rest of the silly dreams she had indulged in as a young girl. No, this world was ruthless and cruel and she would refuse to let it control her. She was Pansy Parkinson. She was first in command to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And, most importantly, she fought for what she wanted.
And I'll have it.
She refused to relinquish the only chance she had to manipulate Draco into her bed, and that meant bringing down Blaise Zabini.
"Well?"
Marcus stood.
"What?"
"We're going to see Dolohov. He's in charge of the Executioners. And I'm going to need a few once we get to that flat in Paddington. I'm going to get that baby. And expose Blaise Zabini."
Then, without another word she spun on the heels of her boots and left the shop, her jaw clenched and shoulders squared.